Unthinkable Thoughts

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

~

THE MOST DIFFICULT THING YET

Professor Albus Dumbledore, the Greatest Headmaster of Hogwarts Ever, sat and considered this latest matter.  It was about a week after Sirius had left the castle - some time after lunch, but not, he suspected, late enough for tea.

He turned the news round and round in his head, studying hard the exact text of the latest message from Arthur Weasley, delivered by owl from the Ministry about an hour previously.  Even so, it was difficult to interpret it as anything other than horrendous news, and feeling his age suddenly, he reached for his Pensieve, raised his wand to his forehead and extracted all the thoughts surrounding Arthur's letter, then set the silvery strands swimming together noiselessly in the simple stone bowl.

He wandered over to the window and glanced out over the grounds of the castle for a few moments.  Hogwarts was such a peaceful place, so far removed from the troubles of the world outside.  But how much longer could it remain so?  Turning back to the desk, he caught sight of the Orbis Ardens, glowing fiercely as it always seemed to these days.  He drew out a good number of thoughts about Harry and Draco, and added those to the Pensieve too.

Suddenly his mood felt a bit lighter.

I wonder whether Minerva fancies a cup of Earl Grey? he pondered.

Idly he prodded the stringy, fluid nothingness in the Pensieve.  Then he picked up a quill and scratched a quick note to Sirius confirming their arrangement that Sirius would be back to see Harry at Christmas, a brief reply to that afternoon's message from Arthur Weasley saying that the latest matter had his fullest attention, and a longer, expertly worded letter to Lucius Malfoy.  He sat back, still agitating his thoughts gently with his wand in the stone dish in front of him.

The Pensieve didn't seem to be working as it should.  The whole point was that it cleared one's head of clutter, and enabled you to go back to it at your leisure without being niggled by it in the interim; but it seemed that he couldn't actually get everything relevant out of his head.

He clicked his tongue in irritation.

Then he raised his wand again and withdrew a vast wedge of silver thought concerning Lucius Malfoy and the book recently recovered from the library at Malfoy Manor.  The Pensieve was rather full now.  There wouldn't be room for much more, but...had he removed enough to be able to rest for a while?

No.  There was something else.  Something still troubling him.  He stared at Fawkes for some minutes more, and then smiled.

Of course.  When he'd first used a Pensieve, oh, hundreds of years ago it seemed, he'd thought that it was simply a case of removing the bric-à-brac of life from within one's mind until it made sense.  But he had since realised that it was only possible to remove something from your head if you knew it.  And that was what was bothering him now: not something that he knew, but something he didn't.

I'm going to have to take a look at that book.

He should have stopped there, but his mind went further.  Dumbledore was not afraid to look anything in the eye, but he had a dreadful feeling about what might be trapped somewhere in the pages of that little memento.

That would certainly explain why Lucius had taken it.

Hastily he scribbled a short letter to Alastor Moody and then set off with his correspondence for the owlery.  En route he changed direction and made for McGonagall's office, smiling.  It was definitely time for tea now.

***

Correspondence was on a lot of minds that day.

Draco sat in one of their armchairs, watching Harry sleep peacefully.  Since they'd had to do without sleeping draught, Draco had slipped right back into his former (pre-faun) sound sleep pattern, and had no real problems filling the majority of nocturnal hours with slumber.  But Harry's insomnia was taking longer to fade, and he was often so tired in the afternoons that Madam Pomfrey had consented to let him nap for a couple of hours or so should he need to, but only on the condition that Draco didn't get into bed with him. 

Spoil sport, thought Draco, smiling, then turned his attention back to the letter he was trying to write.

It was his fourth attempt; three other abandoned versions were currently scrunched up on the floor next to him.  But it was just no good.  He couldn't get past Dear Mother and Father...

After a while Attempt No. 4 was similarly discarded, and Draco turned to the other (slightly less serious) matter on his mind, grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and wrote quickly in his fast and elegant hand:

Dear Sirius,

Please please please help me - what on earth shall I get Harry for Christmas? It needs to be something that will prove how much I love him, but short of a complete new wardrobe everything I think of just seems extravagant or unnecessary.  I just wondered if you had any ideas.  Hope you are safe and well,

Affectionately, Draco

He wondered briefly whether affectionately was a bit too girly a sign-off for a letter to Sirius, but folded up the note and set it aside for whichever of their owls came to visit them next.  Then he thought Sod Pomfrey, slipped his shoes off and snuggled down next to Harry.

***

'That,' stated Hermione with conviction, 'is an excellent idea.  Needs refining a bit, and some of the details are yet to be worked out, but, essentially, excellent.'

'D'you really think so?' Ron asked, rather surprised.

'Yes.  Did you think it up all on your own?  Clever little bunny, aren't you?'

'No, he didn't,' laughed Ginny.  'And how on earth do words like little and bunny possibly relate to this lanky git?  You two are becoming more fluffy by the day!'

'Steady on, Gin,' Seamus grinned, lazing with his arms around Ginny on one of the sofas in the Gryffindor common room, 'we don't want to put an embargo on fluffiness.'

'Oh please,' yawned Neville.  'Where did you learn a word like embargo?  Find it poking around in Ginny's ear with your tongue, did you?  Anyway, it is a good idea.  Well done, Ron.'

'Why aren't I getting any of the credit?' cried Ginny, giggling as Seamus tickled her.

Neville rolled his eyes.

'Ahh!  Wossa matter Nevvy, feeling left out?' crooned Dean.  'Wanna cuddle?'

They all hooted with laughter, and got up for supper.

***

Over the time following Sirius's departure, there hadn't been any more astonishing revelations of Harry and Draco's magical abilities.

Clairvoyance had not been present to any noticeable degree in either of them, according to Sybill Trelawney, who had made a rare excursion out of her eyrie to give Dumbledore her verdict.  Dumbledore had nodded sagely and privately resolved to get in touch with an expert in the field, Arabella Figg, who would be able to confirm or deny this assertion.  (Getting Arabella up to Hogwarts would be tricky, though; she didn't fly any more and hated Apparating.)   Among the lesser areas of magical importance, Runes and Arithmancy and the like, neither Harry nor Draco had had much ability to begin with, so Dumbledore wasn't that surprised to find there was nothing to report.  But still, harnessing their wand skills and controlling their awesome ability at Charms was proving to be a full time job for the Inner Circle, and Dumbledore found himself daring to be optimistic about...well, he could hardly even think of it himself, but optimistic about what Arthur Weasley was so worried about.

Dumbledore had not interfered with McGonagall's teaching the boys the Animagus transformation.  He had agreed with her that it was madness not to pursue it, but had left it entirely to her; after all, she was the Animagus on the staff.  She had kept him informed of any developments, but there hadn't been any so far, as McGonagall was going about it with a meticulousness that impressed even Dumbledore.  I want no mishaps, she had declared.  They are going to be thoroughly grounded in the theory before we attempt anything practical.

Harry and Draco themselves were in no hurry to complete the Animagus work; they suspected (correctly) that with both of them now much stronger it was only this bit of unresolved magic that was keeping them in the Hospital Wing.  Their lives had fallen into an easy rhythm: meals and sleep and private lessons with either Snape or McGonagall.  Harry still wasn't sleeping well, but he was a long way from wandering the grounds all night every night.  His appetite had picked up though, and most evenings (although not all) he and Draco hosted Ron and Hermione to supper.  A couple of times Seamus and Ginny had come as well, and Harry had been delighted to see them again.  Ginny had been overwhelmed at the improvement in Harry; he seemed so well, and so happy - and to her delight she found Draco to be altered almost out of recognition.  Ron and Hermione had told her of course, but she'd not really believed it.

Draco had been surprisingly introspective after Ginny and Seamus had left that first time; he confessed to Harry that he had always particularly hated Seamus for reasons that he couldn't even explain then, let alone now, and he was sorry to think that his eyes had not only been closed against Harry, but all Harry's friends.  This feeling of regret was made even sharper when, the following night, Madam Pomfrey informed them that they had another guest for supper.

'Good-oh,' yawned Draco, sitting in one of the armchairs with Harry sprawled across his lap, going over Animagus stuff for the umpteenth time, 'show them in.  Aren't we popular, Harry my love?'

Madam Pomfrey looked warily at them, and left.

'Are you getting used to being popular, Draco?' smiled Harry.  'Blimey.'

Draco kissed him, and they laughed.  And when they looked up, Pansy Parkinson was standing in the doorway. 

The speed at which Harry and Draco shot apart was impressive, but, alas, totally in vain.  The three of them stood there, Harry and Draco blushing, desperately unsure of what to expect, terrified that they had just entered a new scenario without the slightest preparation, and Pansy, glowering, stony-faced, incredulous, embarrassed, disgusted.

Draco recovered his cool nearly instantly, which was a great deal quicker than Harry.

'Ah.  Pansy old girl.  And what brings you up here?  Slytherin House crumbling without me, is it?  Need some tips for Quidditch training?'  A grin flickered across his face.

'Slytherin House,' she choked eventually, 'is, it seems, all the better for your absence.  Draco, how could you?!!  He's...he's not even a Slytherin!'

'I'll thank you, Pansy, not to talk about Harry as though he isn't here,' snapped Draco, with a hard edge to his voice that Harry had not heard since the day of the fauns.

'"Harry?"' echoed Pansy.  'Since when have we ever called him "Harry"?  What is this, a love-in?  Please tell me I imagined you kissing him.'

'You did not imagine it,' declared Draco.  'Although I understand you can't be that familiar with kissing as a concept, so well spotted.  A kiss, and rather a good one, I thought.  One of hundreds.'

Harry winced.  There was no going back now.

'You kissed him?  Why?'

'Because I love him, you stupid bitch.  Why else would I kiss anyone?'

'Obliviate!' gurgled a desperate voice from behind Pansy.  The boys looked up to see Ron frantically brandishing his wand, as if he had lost control of it.  The spell bounced off the wall and out the window.

Pansy spun round and glared at him.  'You!' she fumed.  'Are you in on this as well?  What is this, a conspiracy?  What on earth do you think you're doing?  Memory charms are forbidden for students--'

'Obliviate!' cried a determined voice from behind Ron.  Hermione's spell hit its target and Pansy faltered for a moment.

'And you!' she yelled, quickly regaining her senses.  Hermione examined her wand as if it were faulty.

'Spell not up to scratch, eh, Granger?' ranted Pansy.   'That's a first.  Just wait till Professor Snape hears--'

'OBLIVIATE!' ordered a commanding voice from behind Hermione.   Snape pocketed his wand instantly the spell hit home, and then ushered Ron and Hermione quickly out of the room.

Pansy looked around bewildered, and then cried, 'Draky!  How we've missed you!  When are you coming back, sweetie?  The Quidditch team's in total disarray!'

Draco glared.  'Well, to be honest, with you as Seeker, Pansy, I'm not surprised.'

'Mr Malfoy will be back in the dormitories before too long, Miss Parkinson,' oozed Snape.  'But he still tires easily, and visits such as yours have to be rather limited, I'm afraid.'

'Oh Draky, how dreadful!  Stuck in this grotty room all this time with only him for company!  It's just too awful!  What shall I tell the others?  That you're OK?  Or that you're suffering terribly?'

'Tell them whatever you like, Pansy.  Whatever it takes to ensure I have no more interruptions before I am released back into the school - you've no idea, how intense it's been in here, Pansy.  I am quite weak from exhaustion sometimes...'

'Oh no!  Oh how awful - I can just imagine what it's been like!'

'Actually, Pansy, I seriously doubt that you can.   But thank you for your concern.'

'I think that had better be about enough for today, Miss Parkinson,' declared Snape gently.  'Mr Malfoy, I will be back to speak to you briefly once I have seen Miss Parkinson out of the Hospital Wing.'

The pair of them left and Harry and Draco stood looking at each other, neither quite able to take in what had just happened.

'Shit,' breathed Draco.  'I think I'm for it...'

Harry said nothing.  It was strange for him to feel grateful towards Snape, but that was exactly what he felt now.  It wasn't that he was embarrassed about being Draco's lover, far from it - at times, he wanted the world to know - but since the second he had laid eyes on Pansy he just knew it was the wrong time for the Slytherins to discover their secret.  And so typical of Draco to rise to the occasion in that way...blast him.  Why did Harry feel both proud that Draco should talk about him that way in front of others, yet curse his inability to avoid confrontation?  Love, I guess, concluded Harry.

Thank goodness Snape had been there with the memory charm.  Otherwise, even now, the news could be spreading round the castle like a stiff breeze, and, from there, it was only a matter of time before...

'That,' fumed Snape on returning to their room, 'was the most foolish thing you have ever done.  Bar none.'

'Sir, I...I-eh...'

'It is extraordinarily lucky for you that I was here.  You surely know how much of a gossip that girl is.  And Mr Malfoy, ask yourself this: who are her parents' close friends?  How long do you think it would have taken until your own parents found out what has been going on here?  Two hours, maybe one?  Do you think we have gone to such extraordinary lengths to protect you and Mr Potter from being exposed to danger just so that you can ruin it because you can't resist a little cheap theatre?'

'But, sir!  It was too late!  She had already seen us kiss--!'

'The Crimson Cloud may have given you ability beyond the understanding of many of our kind,' continued Snape, completely ignoring Draco's interruption, 'but it hasn't increased your intelligence.  If you do so love Mr Potter - as you oh so charmingly informed Miss Parkinson - can you honestly say that the best thing for you two would be for your parents to discover our deception?  In fact forget yourself for once, and put Harry's safety first: what do you imagine his immediate future would have held once your father knew of your situation?  Yours were not the actions of a lover, Draco, but those of an immature show-off.  Which is perhaps all you ever have been.'

Snape looked as if he had a nasty bout of indigestion as he glared at Draco and muttered, 'twenty points from Slytherin.'

Draco was crushed.  He looked at Harry in desperation. 

'And,' added Snape, the look of acute discomfort washing him over again, 'twenty points each to Weasley and Granger, who saw the real danger of the situation a lot quicker than you.  Even if their wand skills were hopeless.'

'S-sir!' spluttered Harry, 'it wasn't his fault - we were both to blame!'

'Typically noble of you, Potter, but you were not the one fuelling the flames of Miss Parkinson's melodrama.  There are issues here of which neither of you are aware, and it is now more critical than ever that news of the Crimson Cloud does not move beyond the small group already in the know.  Especially in the direction of Miss Parkinson and her cronies.  But more than any of that, you act as if the Crimson Cloud is a joke.  Something you can boast about and make light of in front of others, others who don't know and won't understand the real circumstances.  It pains me to think that you have been given this wonderful gift and yet you behave--'

'Excuse me, sir,' interrupted Draco, unable to listen any longer without responding, 'but I was not making light of it.  I am truly sorry for saying that to Pansy, but honestly, sir, what can you possibly know of what this is like?  Sometimes it gets so suffocating that I feel that--'

'I know a great deal more about the Crimson Cloud than you may think, Mr Malfoy,' countered Snape.  'You are by no means the first wizard to be so blessed.  So start treating it with a little more respect, and stop mouthing off in front of outsiders.  The time will come soon enough when this news will become public.  Until then, enjoy what little peace you have together.'

Snape eyed them both oddly.

'Now get on with your Animagus preparation, both of you.  Professor McGonagall will be in later.'

There was an over-theatrical swirl of black robes, and then he was gone.

***

Had Harry and Draco known, they would have spun out their progress towards a successful Animagus transformation even longer than they did, because the Inner Circle were rapidly becoming united in their opinion that no more could be achieved by leaving them in isolation.  Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape were all decided that once this particular piece of magic had been mastered, the pair could only further their progress by learning how to be apart. 

But.  Our heroes did not know.  They only guessed. 

Even so.  When McGonagall - who herself had insisted on a slow-and-sure approach - ranted at them that they were being so slow at perfecting this skill she could scarcely recognise the pair of wizards who had brewed a perfect Perceptivity Potion and supplied the energy behind the Dance of the Seven Charms, Harry and Draco knew the game was up.  And that evening, yet another extraordinary series of events was to fix itself near the top of the All-Time List of Great Shared Memories of Mr HJ Potter and Mr DL Malfoy.  Although only after McGonagall had reminded them of her authority.

'I think we might need another week or so,' pondered Draco.  'There are still some areas of the theory that neither of us understand fully.  Aren't there, Harry?'

'Oh, at least a week, I'd have thought.  I'm still completely lost on all that stuff about combining spells with life forces.  It does sound awfully complicated.'

'Stop playing for time, you two,' the professor commanded.  'You are ready.  We will proceed.'

Over the following half hour, she barked a hundred questions at them, concerning all aspects of the theory of Transfiguration and the nature of Animagi.  They answered all of them correctly and began to sense her excitement.  Harry was smiling, even though deep down there was something troubling him that he had not even confided in Draco.  He knew he was about to become an Animagus, he could sense his body preparing for it, and he knew his mind had been ready for some time.   And boy, had he looked forward to this moment.  It was a way to get closer to Sirius, even to be closer to his own father.  But, what if...?

McGonagall was pacing the room in anticipation, and realised that Harry was ready.  He was looking at her oddly, as if the only thing stopping him from performing the spell was the final affirmation of her approval, as if he was waiting for her permission.

'Go on, Harry,' she encouraged gently, 'I'm sure you are ready.'

She stood stock still as she and Draco watched Harry prepare to undergo the Animagus transformation for the first time.  Draco breathed in, unable to watch, unable not to.  He felt slightly cowardly at letting Harry go first; if there was a mistake in the theory, they would both have the same mistake as they had worked so closely together.  He closed his eyes to nearly-shut and concentrated only on Harry's face, praying that everything would be fine, that there would be no complications...

And then he triggered the spell in himself, quickly, efficiently, on the spur of the moment, and without time to get nervous.  A breathtaking magical glow spread instantly through his whole body and, once the transformation was underway, he screwed his eyes fully shut and prayed.  He could feel his body changing, could sense his centre of gravity moving closer to the floor, was aware that he was now a four-legged creature rather than a two-legged one.  But he daren't open his eyes.  Or could he?  Maybe it was OK now?  He didn't feel that small...

'Draco!' he heard McGonagall call in surprise from somewhere in the room.  Blimey, his hearing appeared to be amazing.  Suddenly he could hear voices from outside the room, even from outside the Hospital Wing; and his senses were instantly alive with things he had never noticed before.  There was one smell in the room that drove him crazy; it was so wonderfully familiar and comforting.  Before he even dared open his eyes, he started to snuffle round looking for the source of this fantastic smell.

'Oh Draco!' he heard McGonagall call again.  'Well done!'

Well done, eh?  She would hardly say that if...   It might be safe to open his eyes.  Just take a quick peek.  Everything did feel OK, he was sure...

His limbs seemed to be working in a way that was new yet completely natural.  They carried him closer to the smell that was pervading all of his senses, and, before he got to wherever his nose was leading him, he knew exactly what the smell was.

It was Harry.  His very living, loving essence.

Still with his eyes screwed firmly closed, he felt Harry's hands around his face, mussing his fur.  Yes, he had fur.  And Harry was down on his haunches to speak to him, he could sense that.  'Draco', he heard Harry whisper into one of his ears, 'Draco, my love, is it safe?'

'Yes,' said Draco.  Or at least, that's what he thought he'd said.  But instead, all three of them heard a kind of gruff little bark, which was an odd sort of noise, but, thought Draco, definitely not a squeak.

Oh, thank the Lord.

He bounded away from Harry and into the bathroom, raised his front paws up onto the sink and stared in the mirror.  Hey, Draco, not bad!  The same soulful grey eyes looked back at him, but the face had the chestnut red colouring of a young fox.  His fur was sleek and shiny, his body athletic and lithe, his demeanour clever and cute.  Draco-the-fox felt he wanted to dart across fields and hide in woodlands, but his most overwhelming emotion was not animal but human: sheer relief.

Just as he was going to get down from the sink and pad serenely back into the room, a whirlwind of energetic black fur came bounding at him, half yapping half barking in a delighted frenzy, all skidding paws and wagging tail and sloppy tongue.  It was a lean black sheepdog, some kind of border collie, with a white patch on his face and another on his flank, a mess of black hair over his bright green eyes, an ear that flopped forward that caused the dog to shake his head madly to try and get the ear to fall backwards, all wrapped up in a bundle of youthful exuberance.  It bounced round Draco-the-fox who regarded it in wonder.

WOW!

Was that his boyfriend?  If I hadn't already been in love with him, thought Draco-the-fox, I surely would be now...  Draco felt a helpless, smiling-too-wide-for-his-face sort of affection.  This was the kind of dog that would be your partner for life; open-faced honest, totally loyal, utterly trusting, endlessly giving.  Harry-the-dog chased Draco-the-fox around the room briefly, and then cornered him against the bath tub, where they snuffled together for a little while in innocent animal inquisitiveness.

Hey, don't mess my fur! thought Draco-the-fox, laugh-yelping in a sort of foxy way.  Communication - in the regular manner - was impossible, but each knew that the other's happiness was accompanied by a flood of relief.

Presently a sleek tabby cat, tail high, strolled into the bathroom and stood watching them in distant feline indifference.  Dog and fox stopped their cavorting and faced her meekly; only one animal was in charge here.  Suddenly McGonagall stood before them, human again, and spoke clearly, but with obvious enjoyment at what she had seen.  

'Change back now, please, both of you, but I warn you that this stage is just as difficult as the first.  Please take care.'

'Oh, thank God!' cried Harry as he grabbed Draco's arm once they were both in human form again.  'I never told you!  I was so scared of doing that!  Scared of what I might end up as!'

Draco had realised in the bathroom that Harry had been as troubled about this very issue as he had himself, but he hadn't noticed it in all the time they had actually been preparing for this moment.  He felt a sudden pang of concern.

'What, Harry?  What were you worried about?'

'I thought...' he looked straight at Draco.  'I thought I was going to be a snake.'

'Why on earth did you think that?'

'Well, you're forgetting,' said Harry, now looking away.   'I'm a Parselmouth.'

'Oh Harry!  You could never have been a snake, you tit!  Am I right, Professor, with his dad, and being a Gryffindor and everything?'

McGonagall smiled.  'I certainly never imagined a snake for him.  In fact it was you I was more unsure of.'

'Now I feel really stupid,' laughed Draco.

'Why?' asked Harry.

'I thought I was going to be a ferret!'

McGonagall laughed with them.  'Right, you two,' she snapped, 'look sharp.  We're all going out for a run.'

***

'I think this chapter is nearly closed,' declared Dumbledore a few days later.  'We may not know what the next one will bring, but, whatever, I want Harry and Draco back in the school before the end of term.'

The end of term was less than a week away now.  The castle had been decorated in magic icicles and frosted Christmas trees, and the school was buzzing with people laughing and packing trunks and making plans for the holidays.  Dumbledore and Snape were wandering through the entrance hall on their way to supper, and stopped to continue their conversation before entering the Great Hall.

'Will you tell them of your plans yourself?' enquired Snape.

'Yes.  In a day or two.  I'm going to London tomorrow, to the Ministry, ostensibly to see Fudge, but really to see Arthur Weasley.  I just want to know exactly what the situation is before we bring Harry and Draco out of hiding.  I know we can't keep this a secret for much longer, especially after that scare with Pansy Parkinson.  But, if we can just buy a few more days, or even better, until the beginning of the new term, I think they will thank us for it.'

'Longbottom!' growled Snape, temporarily distracted as a crowd of Gryffindors swept past into the hall.  'Don't you owe me an essay?'

Neville cowered slightly and began to stutter excuses at the Potions master, and Hermione took the chance to have a word in Dumbledore's ear.

'Professor,' she spoke softly while the pair of them watched the almost comically predictable interaction between Neville and Snape, 'could I have a word?  It's just I - sorry, we, I mean Ron and the others and me - have had an idea.  It's about Harry and Draco.'

'You've beaten me to it, Miss Granger,' smiled Dumbledore.  'I wanted to speak to you, actually.  Shall we meet in my office after supper?'

***

When Dumbledore entered their small kingdom in the early evening a few days later, both Harry and Draco knew instinctively what he was going to say.  They sat closely together on their bed, holding hands.  Dumbledore eased himself into one of the armchairs, and looked at them both.

'My boys,' he began.  'You've achieved more than I ever dreamt possible.  You can Apparate.  You're Animagi.  You've marvellous abilities at Charms and Transfiguration, and excellent wand skills to back them up.  If I'd imagined that we would achieve one tenth of this, I would have been fooling myself.  I'm hugely proud of you both.  But now I have to ask you to do the most difficult thing yet.'

Harry and Draco looked at him intently, breath held.

'I want you to return to your dormitories and to regular school life tomorrow.  Tonight will be your last night in this room.'

However much they had anticipated this moment, the actual chill in the air as the words clunked around the room was not something they could have been prepared for.  Draco gritted his teeth and stared at Harry, determined not to let the Headmaster see how much the prospect was unwelcome.  Hell, it was more than unwelcome.  It was unthinkable.

Draco held his tongue, determined to show his strength.

Harry couldn't though.

'Sir!  Only one night's notice?  Can't we have a little longer, just to get used to the idea?  This is going to be really difficult for Draco, for both of us, can't we wait until the end of term?  What's the point of making us go back just before--'

'Harry!  Calm down; you're gabbling!  It's a most unattractive habit.'

'Well said, Draco,' smiled the Headmaster.  'Now both of you, listen to me.'

Dumbledore took a deep breath and stared idly out of the window for a short while.  When he did begin to speak, Harry and Draco weren't sure whether he wasn't actually speaking to himself.

'Of course, you see, Minerva had said to me all along, we really shouldn't meddle in this, and I knew she was right.  She is nearly always right, you know.  But I tried not to think of it as meddling, I preferred the concept of just 'steering' a little...'

Harry and Draco exchanged slightly odd glances and decided to keep quiet.  Who could imagine what the stresses on his mind were?  Maybe he was usually like this, just saving his twinkly grandfather act for in front of the regular students?  Harry found himself slightly saddened by the melancholy pervading Dumbledore's whole demeanour.

'Dear old Alastor, you remember Alastor, Harry? -  you met him very briefly of course...what a desperate shame that whole affair was - anyway Alastor sent me a box of his little toys earlier this term, just because we were worried about the security of the castle, and well frankly - one can't be too careful.'

'No, indeed,' said Draco encouragingly.

Dumbledore looked at them both as if surprised to find them there.

'Rowena Ravenclaw made this one herself, Alastor says,' the Headmaster continued enigmatically.  'And on the day the fauns came to the Hogwarts grounds, it was glowing and buzzing and burning like a forest fire.  Hasn't stopped, to be honest.  And when I saw it first, I knew what Minerva called meddling would be unavoidable.  So much was at stake, you see, and still is; perhaps even more so now.'

He reached into his robes and pulled out a small glass sphere.  He passed it to Draco.  The boys regarded it in wonder.

'It's an Orbis Ardens,' he explained.  'A singularly beautiful piece of ancient magic.  And all those tiny little fireflies inside...they're normally lazy and pale, still and lifeless.  Run them past a couple hiding in the grounds, or expose them to the Astronomy Tower on a Saturday night, and they wouldn't alter, you know.  Because the Orbis isn't fooled by things like that.  Maybe those little flies haven't had anything to do for years...'

Close attention seemed the best course of action to this strange direction of the Headmaster's conversation, so Harry and Draco said nothing, staring intently at the Orbis.

'But.  With you two in the castle, the Orbis has been reminded of its true purpose, and it burst into life.  Which on one level was a joy of course, because it meant that the Crimson Cloud was again at Hogwarts.   But on another level it was difficult, because of the blasted meddling...'

'Er, professor...?' ventured Harry.

'It can detect things.  Love, mainly.  The strong, powerful, magical kind; not the usual teenage sort.  A visual indicator of the Crimson Cloud.  What you're looking at, my boys, is the strength of what ties you together.  And I've looked at it most days, and wondered about how we should go forward.  And I confess, that many of the reasons Minerva and I decided to encourage the growing closeness between you, rather than let it develop at its own pace, were selfish.  We simply couldn't risk it destroying both of you, you see, we needed to ensure that it made you stronger.  And so, we meddled.  We locked you both in here, and hoped and hoped, and watched, and hoped some more.'

He paused slightly, reddening.

'And for that, I must apologise.'

'What's to apologise for, professor?' asked Draco slowly.  'Neither Harry nor I would do these last few weeks differently even if we were offered an infinite number of attempts at them.'

'No, of course you wouldn't,' smiled the Headmaster sadly.  'But that's only because our gamble paid off; paid off beyond what any of us dared hope for.  But had it gone wrong, had you been too young to cope with the intensity of it, had you not been able to overcome your differences, had the news leaked out and placed unbearable pressure on you, it could all have been so different.  We decided never to tell you of the risks and of the dangers, because, I say again, we were selfish.  We needed you, Harry, to be fitter and stronger than you have ever been.  And we needed you, Draco, to be even stronger than Harry.  Because one day, Harry is going to be called on to play a major role in a terrifying drama.  And he'll need someone to inspire him and hold him, and someone to pick him up if he falls.  And neither Sirius nor I, nor Minerva, nor even Ron and Hermione could ever be strong enough for that.  But now, you can.  But only because I locked you away in here and took a gamble.  So again, I apologise.'

Dumbledore shifted in his chair and looked straight at Harry.  His tone became, if anything, sadder.

'Harry, my dear boy,' he said softly.  'It seems all your life I've been meddling.  I placed you with your dreadful Muggle relations.  Despite their natural objections, I engineered your being educated here.  I stopped you from spending the summers with Ron and his family, and I allowed you to step into all sorts of danger, hoping, knowing, that you'd come through it each time.  All of which makes it even more difficult for me to sit here and interfere once more by asking you to leave this small sanctuary you have built.  But I must do it.  And I hope you will listen to the reasons why, and understand them.'

'Sir - bringing me to Hogwarts was hardly interfering!' began Harry, but Dumbledore held up his hand and spoke again.

'As I outlined before, you both now have many new strengths, of which you should be justly proud.  But you also have a terrible, critical weakness: you can't exist separately.  We know how difficult it is for you to be parted, how the Crimson Cloud binds you so strongly that you both feel pain.  But that unfortunately is now a chink in your armour, and we must rectify it as soon as possible.   I feel personally responsible for this, for without my interference - yes, Harry, that is the right word - without my interference, you would have come to terms with its implications over a longer period of time, and within the boundaries of a regular life.  You would have got to know one another in smaller bursts, with time in between spent apart so that this current concern would never have been an issue.   But in keeping you in here for these weeks, I never allowed you that time apart, and so it will now seem much more painful than it would otherwise have been.  So, I propose that you spend the last three days of this term getting used to the idea.'

'But sir!' cried Draco.  'It won't be just three days!  There's the--'

Dumbledore appeared not to have heard Draco.  'You have to understand,' he continued, his thoughts drifting like they had when he had first sat down, 'that I would never have taken these actions with any other couple here at Hogwarts.  Think of your future; you may both have different jobs, different responsibilities.  Time spent apart will be inevitable.  I have done you a disservice by leaving you unable to cope with this aspect of the Cloud, so these last three days will be as vital to you as any number of charms and spells.  It is, I hope, a small and manageable period of time.  I promise it won't kill you.'

'But sir,' Harry said urgently, continuing Draco's previous thought, 'Draco is right.  It's not just three days.  There's the holiday after that, and that's about three weeks!'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore, the twinkle reappearing in his eye.  'It will be just three days.  Certain, um, arrangements have been made.  You will both spend the holidays here at Hogwarts, where you will be able to be much freer than you would during term time.'

'But...?' began Harry.

'How...?' wondered Draco.

'Draco, I wrote to your father a few days ago.  I have just received his reply.  He is absolutely delighted at your news.'

'Er, sir...what is my news?'

'That you came top in your year's academic standings this term.  Your father was, as you can imagine, rather pleased, as this is the first time you have ever beaten Miss Granger.'

'Crikey.  Did I really come top?'

'Quite so.  The list on the notice board says exactly that.  Position number one, top of the year: DL Malfoy, Slytherin.  I wrote it myself.'

'But I've not been to lessons for weeks!'

'True.  But you have learnt more than you ever could have in class.'

Draco paused, a pang of Slytherin pride rising in his chest.  'I smell a rat.  Did I come top on my own merits, or did you fix the standings?  Where did Hermione come?'

'Ah.  I placed Miss Granger second in the year, which is, I admit, slightly below her usual standard.'

'Blimey,' laughed Harry.  'I bet she's gutted!'

'On the contrary,' smiled Dumbledore.  'She seems highly satisfied with her own position, and sends her congratulations.  And no, I did not fix the standings, Draco.  Your first place is merited.  It has been difficult to compare you two with Hermione this term, with you not being in class, but one recent crucial spell of Miss Granger's was not successful, not entirely anyway, and the same cannot be said of you.'

Harry laughed again.  'That memory charm!  Wasn't it?!!  She looked so shocked when it didn't work on Pansy!'

'It did work actually,' corrected Dumbledore.  'But Miss Granger, being a fine student, had never practised an illegal charm before, and she miscalculated the force required.  She did indeed remove some of Miss Parkinson's memory, but only one or two seconds' worth.  Professor Snape has since helped her fill this gap in her knowledge.'

Draco looked pensive, still not entirely convinced.  'Where did Harry come?  Harry's achievements have been as good as mine, if not more so.'

'Ah.  I placed Mr Potter third, and here I must admit some tweaking of the facts.  Technically I should have placed you joint first, Harry, but I thought, under the circumstances that you would not mind this arrangement; you'll have to excuse my meddling again.  I'm aware that you've learnt just as much as Draco, but, the order needed to be er...just so, to produce the desired effect.'

'I don't mind at all, Professor.  Third is far higher than I've ever come before.  And I certainly don't mind being third to Draco and Hermione.'

'Are you sure?' asked Draco, marvelling again at the Gryffindor spirit.  'I don't want you to be denied something because of me.'

'Oh Draco, of course I'm sure!  I haven't been denied anything here!  And anyway remember how much more difficult than you I found Apparating?  Your first place is completely deserved, and I'm well pleased with third!'

They looked at each other in silent mutual affection; Harry delighted with Draco's achievement, Draco admiring Harry's effortless nobility.  Dumbledore coughed.

Draco looked hopeful.  'And exactly what was the desired effect you mentioned?'

'Ah.  Well, with your great academic achievements this term, your father acceded to my request that you remain at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday for some advanced tuition.  He seemed pleased that I was taking this special interest in your education, and wholly approved of the schedule I have outlined for such extra magical training.'

'You mean...?' Draco was daring to hope that this might work out a great deal better than he had feared.

'Yes.  Advanced Potions, some extra Charm and Transfiguration work, plus some more useful wand skills.  Although there is not, perhaps, the need for your father to know that these extra lessons have technically already taken place.'

He smiled at both of them.  'And, it seems, that for one odd reason or another, I can't quite work out why, not many people are staying here for the holiday this year.  In fact, I think it's only you two and a number of your Gryffindor friends, Harry.'

'So it will be only three days!' celebrated Draco, looking excitedly at Harry.     

Harry's smile was so wide he thought his face might split.  'Sir, how can we ever thank you for this?'

'Thank me, Harry?  There is no need to thank me.  It is I who should be thanking you, considering my meddling.'

'But sir, there is every need,' persisted Draco.  'We're both immensely grateful for this time you've given us together.  It's been wonderful.  Are you sure there isn't anything we can do?'

'Well,' smiled the headmaster, 'if you feel like that, yes.  Easy.  Have the best Christmas together that either of you has ever had.  Spend some time outdoors and get some colour back in your cheeks.  Catch up with some of the lessons you have missed, if you find a spare half hour.  Be good to your friends, who have suffered more than you may imagine during this whole episode.  And...'

Harry and Draco waited expectantly.

'...for Merlin's sake get back on your brooms.'

'Oh!' cried Harry.  'My Firebolt!  I'm not even sure I know where it is!'

'I think you'll find the youngest Mr Weasley has been zealously guarding it these last few weeks,' beamed Dumbledore.  'Hoping that one day you'll need it again.'

'God only knows,' despaired Draco, 'what those thugs in my dormitory have been doing with my stuff.  I expect they'll have managed to trash my Nimbus somehow.'

Instantly Harry smiled to himself.  He knew exactly what he was going to buy Draco for Christmas.

'So,' concluded Dumbledore.  'The Last Supper beckons.  Would you like to eat alone tonight, or are you open to guests?'

'We can be alone later,' replied Draco, knowing instinctively that he spoke for Harry as well.  'Anyone who wants to eat with us, they are welcome.  Within limits, of course,' he added, remembering the Parkinson Debacle.

'Quite so,' nodded Dumbledore.  'And what would you like to eat?  You may have whatever you want, but the school will tonight be dining on chicken-and-ham pie.  Isn't it odd how it keeps coming round on the menu?'

Harry and Draco laughed and laughed, and Dumbledore could still hear them laughing as he left the Hospital Wing, hoping, praying, that he had done the right thing.

***

When Draco had a moment to think later that night, he sat back from the table and regarded the three of them.

They had an almost telepathic means of communication.  Not like he himself had with Harry, intermittent magical surges of emotions and feelings and certainties; theirs was far more specific, rooted in shared experiences, shared interests, shared loves.  A single word would produce the same reaction from all three of them, triggering the same thoughts.

'Do you remember...?' Hermione might say.  They all remembered, and all remembered whatever it was in the same order.  The act of remembering was taken unconsciously for granted between them, and frequently the next comment to follow would be three or four steps down the line, leaving Draco wondering what they were talking about it.  'Do you think...?' Ron might suggest.  Of course they all thought it, so much so that nothing ever needed explaining.  They weren't defined by what they said, they were defined by what they didn't need to say.  'Couldn't we...?' Harry might wonder.  Yes they could, they could do anything.  Anything they wanted to.  They had rewritten the school rules for their own benefit, they had gained the confidence and respect of all those around them, they had forged their own way of existing, empowering by its strength and rock-like in its reliability.  They were a unit.  They were a family.  And they had no idea they were special.

But Draco didn't feel left out.  Because whereas this Holy Trinity were united by their pasts, their presents and futures included Draco, as one of them, as an equal, as a link in their chain.  And as so often as when he was with the three of them, he felt a warming sense of privilege, of joy, of genuineness.  He'd never felt like this before.  And he loved it.

Harry caught his eye.  They were talking about something, it didn't matter what.  Sometimes quiet and thoughtful, sometimes serious, sometimes overflowing with hilarity, but Harry caught his eye.  And he mouthed 'I love you' silently to Draco, and then grinned and nodded his head as if Draco needed convincing on this point, and again, 'I love you, I love you, I really do...I love you'.  Draco blushed, and again felt that overwhelming sense of belonging, and of security.  Hermione noticed this little interaction, and absently placed her hand on his forearm while she was talking to Ron about it didn't matter what.  That little touch, it said as much as Harry's endearingly over-the-top silent whispers.  That little touch, it left a mark, it branded him; it made him one of them.

He felt that he could easily get used to happiness.

Maybe it was this telepathy that caused Ron and Hermione to leave shortly after that, but more likely it was Hermione seeing the secret glances between Draco and Harry and deciding it was time to leave them alone.  But whichever it was, moments after the door had closed, and Harry and Draco were left together in their kingdom for one final night, they pulled off their clothes and fell into their bed, cuddled in each other's arms.  No talking, no kissing, no moving.  Just holding.

Draco was increasingly in awe of the magic of their relationship.  Sure, there was the physical side, which had been - and continued to be - a complete and joyous revelation.  As their inhibition had faded and their confidence had grown, they had explored each other's bodies and delighted in the other's reactions, as happy as two puppies snuffling around in a garden.  And sometimes it was more than playful discovery; sometimes there was a do-or-die feel to their love-making, as if their very lives depended on the closest possible physical contact, as if the walls of their castle might crumble if they didn't constantly prove to the other, in bouts of anguished, profane pleasure, that nothing else mattered in the world.  And it wasn't any one particular touch or kiss or intimacy that caused Draco to tremble with desire; for him, the high was Harry himself.

Which made the other side, the emotional, non-physical side to their togetherness, all the more tender.  At moments like this one, when they lay together perfectly content to think the same thoughts and breathe the same air, Draco felt as much ecstatic happiness and closeness as he did in any number of their creative and uninhibited games.  The peace of these moments allowed them both to bask in a glow of belonging, and for Draco, just looking - for whole minutes at a time - at the crown of Harry's head, or the line of his cheek, or the curve of his neck, filled him with so much wonder that he often could scarcely dare to believe that he hadn't spent the last few weeks daydreaming in delicious fantasy.

It was Harry who gently broke their reverie.

'Three days, Draco,' he murmured.  'That's all.  Three days.'

Draco kissed Harry lightly on his neck.  'I can manage three days.  Can you?'

'Knowing that when they are up, I will get to hold you again like this, yes; three days seems just about do-able.  I'm not so sure about the three nights though...'

There seemed no more to say, and curled up together they drifted into a peaceful sleep.