When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ X

Give Yourself Away

"If I could be who you wanted all the time I would..."Radiohead

Draco lay in his four-poster bed, gazing at his canopy in the darkness. He hadn't slept all night, too depressed and frustrated to do anything but feel sorry for himself. His immediate reaction after Harry had tried to kiss him had been annoyance. Draco couldn't stand drunken people. There were few things he despised more than childish stupidity, which alcohol provoked in torrents, and Harry had fallen rather foul to its evils. Emotional drunks were Draco's absolute pet peeve (and Harry was clearly a distinctly emotional drunk) but, after he had stormed up to his dorm and settled alone inside, he had begun to relive the few precious moments when Harry Potter needed him, and the annoyance had faded to hurt. He had thought they were friends. Draco would never have abused Harry's trust like that; he would never have let him down because he wanted to get back at someone. He had thought he could trust Harry, like Harry could trust him. He could still feel the Gryffindor's breath on his neck, his rough, chewed lips pressing against his skin. He raised his hand, vaguely intending to brush his fingers over the tingling flesh, but caught himself and instead forced his fingers to tangle in his hair.

For God's sake Harry - why couldn't you just keep your stupid hands to yourself?

Draco was furious with himself for even considering whether he should have allowed Harry to kiss him. He had more self-respect than that - no one was to abuse him in such a way - but still... what would it have been like? Sloppy, awkward and intensely alcoholic... But all the same - it was Harry! What difference did it make? Harry had wanted to kiss him - wasn't that too good an opportunity to pass up?

No, because I am not going to torture myself like that, and I am most certainly not Harry Potter's second choice!

Oh yes, of course! With my masses of experience that would have been perfectly easy...

I have no desire to find out in such a situation.

Draco couldn't answer that; even to himself. But he couldn't help hoping that maybe, now Harry knew what the ape-boy was really like, he might see that Draco would be far better for him. Draco would never two-time him like that. He really loved Harry for what and who he was underneath that stupid scar - not just because he was the best and youngest seeker in over a century, or because he was the only person known to have fought Voldemort and come through alive. Maybe when he was younger he'd been drawn to Harry because of whom he was to the rest of the Wizarding world, but the more he found out about the quiet, skinny boy with the haunted eyes - which Draco sometimes thought looked like the sun shining through broken glass - the more he liked the side of him he knew very few people cared to look for.

Everyone wants him to be a 'hero' - no one gives a knut about what he's really like. Well, that stupid Neanderthal has dug his own grave, now. I didn't even need to hold Harry's eyes open to make him see the way that animal was slobbering over the carrot head. Maybe this is it. If being a Slytherin has its uses, it's when it involves turning a situation to one's advantage-

Draco sat up so suddenly that he almost gave himself whiplash. The dorm was filled with flashing lights and the sound of a bell tolling deafeningly. Around him his roommates groaned and demanded to know what was going on. It took a moment for the noise and its identity to sink in - it was the school alarm.

He flung back the covers and snatched his dressing robe from its hook, pinning on his prefect badge and stuffing his wand into his pocket as quickly as he could. "Get up, get your robes on and get to the common room immediately," he ordered, "And don't forget your wands!"

Draco whisked into action, joining the other prefects in rousing the other students and transporting them safely up to the Great Hall. The floating candles blazed in their hundreds, but the Hall seemed completely different to when the students lined the four house tables for meals. The Hufflepuffs were already assembled, huddled together and looking frightened in a corner. Ravenclaw followed the Slytherins, and Gryffindor, who had the furthest to travel across the castle, entered last - many of them clutching their wands as if ready for battle.

Harry wasn't with them. Draco scanned the group of Gryffindors repeatedly, then reluctantly turned to the Ravenclaws, half afraid that Harry was with them. Cross was sitting huddled with Wood, whispering and constantly running his hands through his hair. The carrot-head sat with her own little gaggle and threw him glances every few moments, clutching her book bag as though it were a comfort blanket. Harry wasn't there and Draco felt a small knot of panic building in his stomach. Where is he? Where the hell is he? He surely found his way out of the forest...? He had to... We weren't a long way in.... Draco's fingers tightened around the wand in his pocket. How dearly he'd like to hex them both into the infirmary for what they had done to Harry. If he was lost in the forest or something had happened to him...

He was distracted by the commotion made as Harry finally did appear, escorted by his guardians. Granger and Weasley leapt up and hurried over to them as though expecting him to know exactly what was going on. From the way he shrugged and Lupin patted Weasley on the shoulder before he and Black hurried away, Draco felt sure that they knew nothing either. He didn't realise he was staring until Harry caught his eye. He seemed about to come over but remembered that they were surrounded by people just in time. Draco very pointedly looked directly at the Ravenclaws, glanced back at Harry, then turned his back completely. He immediately heard Granger's voice rise an octave as she babbled something urgently, but he couldn't make out what it was.

Harry stared at the back of the blond head, now purposefully turned away from him. It had all flooded back the instant their eyes had locked and he could feel his cheeks burning as badly as his head. He glanced at Gavin, leaning heavily on Simon Wood and looking utterly exhausted. Harry felt as though he'd swallowed a bludger. He could almost cry. It wasn't fair - why did Gavin have to pick on him to use like that? If he wasn't feeling so depressed he'd go over and hit him. Thanks to that stupid git he'd probably lost one of his best friends.

"Harry? Harry are you alright?"

He turned his attention to Hermione as she gripped his arm almost tightly enough to bruise. "What?"

"What's the bleeding matter with you? You're blanking out again!"

"Harry, did something happen? Why are they bringing us here?"

"How should I know?" Harry shrugged impatiently, "My scar's hurting so I'd say it was a pretty safe bet that Voldemort's up to his old tricks again..."

Hermione gazed at him with abject horror; "Harry! How can you so blasé about this? People could be dead - could be being tortured - if Voldemort -"

"Look, I have my own problems at the moment, not to mention a colossal headache and I really don't want to talk about it, alright?"

"Problems? What problems? Harry, if this is because of - because of you new 'friend'..."

"I don't think he really wants to be my friend any more," he replied quietly. "Happy now?"

Neither Hermione nor Ron had time to respond, because at that moment Dumbledore appeared at the front of the room, flanked by the heads of the our houses, all looking rather sombre.

"May I have your attention?" he began, no twinkle in his eyes at all. "I must ask you all to sit down where you are, for I have some rather bad news of which to inform you." Instantly, hundreds of black velvet cushions appeared and those who had not already been sitting down did so. Dumbledore continued, looking extremely grave, "Tonight, I am sorry to have to tell you, there were a number of attacks staged on areas of public and political significance by forces which have been identified as those of Lord Voldemort." Horrified gasps rang out across the room and Harry saw Sirius, standing to one side of the raised platform, bow to a suddenly ashen-faced Remus and whisper urgently. "Among these buildings are the department of Muggle Protection, the Department of Magical Technological Development, the Department of International Wizarding Relations," he paused and appeared to hesitate, deciding whether to add his next location, "and St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies."

Many people cried out in anger, several Hufflepuffs and number of younger students began to sob and what appeared to be the majority of Slytherin faces suddenly seemed to blank of all emotion. There was a near-universal sense of rage, except for the corner in which the Slytherins sat, each looking thoroughly impassive, yet intensely and stoically alone. Harry glanced at Draco, who, like his housemates, gave no clue to his feelings. He realised, though, that the blond boy must be questioning his father's involvement; perhaps hoping that he had been caught and would be removed by the Aurors.

"In a moment your heads of house will ask those of you who have been directly affected by the night's events to leave the hall and join them elsewhere. I ask you to do so with courage and compassion. We are as strong as we are united, that you all know; let these sad and trying times be our opportunity to display our strength."

In silence the four teachers stepped down from the platform and began to approach their pupils. Professor Sprout was as distraught as her students and soon the small group left the Hall together, clinging to one another for support. A pale-faced Snape stopped before each of his own students, needing no gesture further than a slight nod before each one stood and strode towards the doors. Harry saw a tiny flicker on Draco's face as Snape followed. He thought it might be disappointment.

Harry turned his attention to the Ravenclaws; Professor Flitwick seemed to be taking more time with his students. He moved from a third year and Harry found, to his malicious glee, that his sympathetic hand was placed upon the shoulder of Claudia McKnight. Disgusted with himself, Harry grimaced and turned to Hermione just as she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. He blinked and looked around for Ron. To his dismay he saw four familiar ginger figures being led from the room by Professor McGonagall.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione sobbed into his pyjamas, "Poor Weasleys! What if - what if he's dead?"

"Who? Who's hurt?" he demanded, his own horror creeping up his spine like a glacier.

"Percy! They attacked his department, Harry, didn't you hear? Oh goodness, what if he dies? They can't lose another child! It would be dreadful!"

"Another child?" Harry echoed in confusion.

"Yes! Yes, didn't you see the boy at the supper? That was Archie!"

"Archie? Ron's never mentioned - "

"No," Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "they don't like to talk about it... Ron was only little when he died."

Harry's head swam as he tried to take in this new information. Surely they would have known? How often had he stayed at the Burrow and yet never seen a single picture of the tall boy he'd seen at the ritual? "How?" he asked, uncomfortably.

"He... he hanged himself, Harry - in the barn... Ron said he was a couple of years older than Percy. Wh-what if something really awful has happened, Harry? Oh the poor, poor Weasleys!"

"I don't know," Harry murmured, starting to feel exhausted again, "I had no idea..."

His head throbbed harder.

They returned to their houses shortly after, but it was nearly nine o'clock before those who had been taken from the hall returned. Harry had so far successfully avoided telling Hermione about the previous night's events. He couldn't face the prospect of her tirade on how stupid he had been to try and kiss the Slytherin; or worse, her sympathy. Finally, Ron staggered through the portrait hole looking extremely tired, but certainly not like someone who had just been bereaved.

"Ron? What happened? Is everything alright? Is Percy alright?" Hermione asked as the other three also climbed through the doorway. Ron gave a weary sigh and flopped onto the nearest sofa.

"They blew up his department," he shrugged. "Perce was working late - surprise, surprise - and he fell asleep at his desk..."

"They reckon he slipped out of his chair -"

"- and that's what saved him," the twins elaborated.

"Serves him bloody right, if you ask me! I mean, who in their right mind works on New Year, anyway?"

"Apparently he's sitting in some part of St. Mungo's that didn't get blown up asking if his report got it on time..."

"As if anyone bloody cares!"

"But he's alright?" Hermione asked, sitting down beside Ron and pushing her hair out of her face tiredly.

"As he'll ever be," Ron said with a half-grin.

"Looks like we'll have to bump him off ourselves-"

"-that way we can claim Hermes!"

"Don't be horrible!" Ginny squealed, slapping George on the arm. "Poor Percy's in hospital! Don't joke about him dying!"

To Harry's surprise, the twins looked downcast and Fred muttered what may have been an apology. Everything felt so different. Some of their housemates had lost loved ones and sat in corners sobbing or nodding bravely at those who offered their condolences. The stoicism was suffocating. Why did they have to pretend it didn't matter? The whole world they knew was falling apart again and they were all trying to pretend that they could cope. But it was worse to see the usually happy, familiar faces downcast and pale. It made Harry feel sick with frustration. This wasn't right - it wasn't how things were meant to be. They were kids! They shouldn't have to deal with this. Even the twins weren't really making light of things they way they usually did. They could pretend for a short while, but even they couldn't keep up the act. Nothing was the same, now... Harry couldn't face staying in the room any longer, and he slipped out virtually unnoticed.

For a long time he wandered the corridors; they were deserted. Death seemed to be finding itself at home within the school. The overwhelming sense of sadness and loss radiated from the walls, which usually echoed with the chatter and laughter of the castle's inhabitants. Somewhere, familiar faces probably had far more in common with him that he would ever realise. Other students would have lost families. He may be the most famous orphan in the school but there was a strong possibility that he was no longer such a small minority.

Eventually, he found himself on the stone steps, gazing across the lawns to the cottage. The windows looked dark and no smoke issued from the chimney, so there was evidently no one at home. Hagrid's hut lay dormant, too; he supposed the staff were having an emergency meeting. He sat down on the steps, almost forgetting about the cold November weather, and rested his forehead on his arms. Why did all this have to happen now? He was sick of his personal life being overshadowed by the actions of a man that should have died years ago. He just wanted to be normal. His mind drifted back towards Draco; he wondered what he was doing. Across the lawns, he picked out the area where he and Draco had stood the previous night; it looked so inconspicuous in the light of day. What had possessed him to do something so stupid? The drink mainly... But it was more than that. He'd wanted to feel the same for Draco; he'd wanted to reciprocate and give the other boy back some of the things he'd put into their friendship. But he had failed. All he had done was hurt and annoy him, which seemed to be the only thing he really was capable of. Some friend I am...

At that moment a hand ran across his shoulders and gently stroked his arm. "Draco?" Harry said, grasping at the hand just as he realised that the skin was certainly not pale enough, nor the fingers slender enough, to be the Slytherin's. He jerked to his feet and whirled around to find himself faced with the last person he wanted to see.

"Draco, 'Arry?" Gavin asked, an expression of hurt confusion on his face. "Since when did Malfoy do that?"

"He... I just..." lost for words, Harry closed his mouth and turned away. "It's none of your business."

"What? O'course it's my business, 'Arry - I'm s'posed to be your boyfriend, for God's sake!"

"Really?" Harry demanded, turning back to him furiously, "Well, you were the one who seemed to need reminding of that last night, Gavin!"

The Welsh boy blanched, then deep red patches formed on his cheeks. "Wha're you talkin' abou'?"

"Don't bother denying it - I saw you with my own eyes!" he yelled, fists clenched furiously.

"What'd'you see?"

"You actually want me to say it?" the Gryffindor cried incredulously, "Fine! If that's what you want - I saw you snogging that ginger girl from the Quidditch team. And so did Draco."

"What were you doin' wi' Draco Malfoy?"

"That's nothing to do with it! I saw you! Over there - by the trees. And for your information, I was nowhere near Draco at the time!"

"It weren' what it looked like..."

"So what was it? It didn't damn well look like CPR to me!"

"'Arry -" Cross began pleadingly, starting to reach out for him.

"I trusted you!" Harry bellowed back, pulling away roughly.

"'Arry, she kissed me! She's liked me fer ages but I don' like 'er back - not like that!" the other boy replied, the desperation in his voice sounding almost teary.

"Oh really? Well it didn't look like you were exactly fighting her off!"

"Look, I told 'er I don' like 'er tha' way - 'Arry, why would I willin'ly do anythin' wi' 'er when 'm goin' out wi' you?"

"Funny, that's exactly what I wanted to know."

"'Arry, please don' ruin things over something this stupid..."

"Stupid? Gavin, you were kissing someone else! I am perfectly within my right to be pissed off!"

"But it wasn't-"

"-What it looked like... Yes, I think you might have mentioned that part." Listen to yourself! You sound like Draco!

"'Arry, I never did this t'urt you! I did it to be kind t' someone else - there is a big diff'rence!" The older boy's voice cracked as he appeared to reach the very verge of tears.

"Well, what about being kind to me?" Harry asked, slightly less harshly than he would have done. He really didn't want to make the older boy cry. He'd already had enough malicious thoughts against Ravenclaws that morning.

"I'll make it up to you!" the Welsh boy said immediately. "Whatever I can do t' make it up t' you I'll do it. I promise."

"What makes you think you can make it up to me?" Harry asked. "Do you have any idea how I felt standing there, watching you - watching you... with her!"

"Pro'bly a bit like I feel knowin' you spend 'alf your time wi' someone we both know reckons 'e's in love wi' you."

"Leave Draco out of it, Gavin." Not that you exactly managed to, Potter...

"'Arry, don' you think I' got feelin's too? Don' you think tha' maybe I wonder why you spen' so much time wi' him? I made a stupid, stupid mistake an' I know it. But it's gotta work both ways..."

"This is not about Draco! If it was about him do you think I would be so hurt because of this?"

"'Arry, please...!"

"Don't compare what you did to my friendship with Draco - don't."

"God, 'Arry - I'm sorry, I' told you I'm sorry, will you please jus' lemme make it up t' you?"

"Gavin, it's not about making it up to me... It's about being able to trust you."

"I'll gi' you my word, that's all I can do. Please b'lieve me, 'Arry - 'll never let anything like this 'appen again. Never." He tentatively reached out and pulled him closer and Harry thought of the night before, when Draco had been struggling to help him stay on his feet. "I know things are goin' t' be really tough, now, an' I wan' t' be there fer you. If you jus' gimme another chance - if it kills me I'll be there fer you. Please let me..."

"Haven't you learned, yet? Being around me does kill people. I'm more effective than any cursed necklace. Maybe you should just think of this as a good excuse to get out of the firing line before it's too late..."

"No."

Harry looked at him curiously. The older boy's face was set in an expression of fierce determination, but his eyes looked... Frightened?

"Gavin..."

"Simon's dad was 'urt, 'Arry..."

"What?"

"'E works at th'ospital. Psychiatric ward. They don' know if there's anythin' they can do - even wi' magic. Now tha' we're under attack from them I'm afr -" he hesitated and closed his eyes for a moment, "Jus' please don' take this away from me now..."

Harry studied him for a minute. He looked genuinely scared; genuinely afraid of losing the people he cared about, just like so many of their schoolmates had. It was beginning to seem a little foolish to dismiss one of the few people who did care for him when so many of their friends were losing people they cared about.

"'Arry I need you..."

"No, you don't..."

"I do! Please, jus' gimme one more try..." the older boy begged, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly it started to hurt a little. "Please..."

Draco'll hate you for this... Harry thought, looking down at their linked hands, If he doesn't already... Distantly, he heard Hermione's voice echoing back what she had said in the common room, about not giving up on his life for Draco's benefit. Taking a small sigh, Harry gave in and wrapped his arms around Gavin.

~*~

"I'll do it."

Everyone in the room glanced up at the pale, worn-out figure that had spoken. An instant and near-unanimous chorus of "Don't be ridiculous, Remus!" was thrown back at him.

"You are not - fucking not - putting yourself at that much risk. No fucking way!"

"Sirius Black! You will watch your language!"

"I'm not fucking fifteen any more, Min - can't take any points from me, you know, and I'm not having him go out and get himself fucking killed for-"

"Sirius, I have to do my share-"

"Remus," the headmaster broke in gently, but with a firmness no one could reasonably hope to shake, "you will do your share, as you always have done; however, Sirius is indeed absolutely right. You cannot be allowed to take on a task such as this."

"Besides," McGonagall added, her tone slightly softened as she addressed him, "we need you here. The students will need you here-"

"'Specially young Harry," Hagrid said, pulling a huge, spotted handkerchief from his pocket. "Already lost one set o'folks, ain't 'e?"

"And you're one of the best strategists we have," Copia Vector added, nodding.

"Only because James isn't here," Remus sighed, shaking his head. "Really, who else is there? I have the perfect reason to join them - am the perfect reason to-"

"Bollocks!"

"Sirius-"

"Yes, Black," Snape sneered from across the table, "keep your House Elf under control without swamping us with expletives, if you please."

"What did you just fucking call him, Batfink?" Sirius growled, standing up and leaning over the table as though he wanted to grab the other man and slam his head into the wooden surface.

"Siri, please!"

"Sit down, Black, or Lupin may be forced to abuse his rolling pin."

Sirius had virtually sprung over the table and grabbed handfuls of the other man's robes before anyone else had time to get to their feet. "What's that fucking supposed to mean, you slimy little shit?"

Snape just had time to sneer triumphantly before Dumbledore boomed "Gentlemen!" a dangerous look in his eyes. "I will not tolerate such behaviour from my students, much less my staff! You will sit down and continue this meeting like respectable adults."

Sirius and Snape took their places in silence, both scowling menacingly. Remus slid down in his seat and half-covered his face with his hand, thoroughly humiliated.

"Remus, not only are you an excellent strategist, a superb mediator and trusted counsellor to any that meet you -"

"Not teh mention th' best Linguisty-thingy we' got..."

"-but an accomplished professor in the very subject which will be of the utmost importance to us; Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Hang on, hang on - are you giving Moony my job?" Sirius demanded, looking and sounding deeply affronted.

"I wouldn't want to take Sirius' job from him, Albus, you know that-"

"Of course not, Remus; Sirius will, if necessary, be moved on to Muggle Studies to-"

"MUGGLE STUDIES?"

"Yes, Sirius, Muggle Studies. As my memory serves, the Muggle lifestyle was something you always took great pride in your understanding of."

"Yeah, fifteen years ago! Pop culture! Not bloody politics or any sort of practical stuff!"

"I seem to remember a rather large and finely tuned flying motorcycle," McGonagall said primly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"How many Muggles do you know with flying fucking motorbikes?" Sirius cried incredulously.

"Approximately as many as I do wizards with those black vinyl discs which are used to create music."

"Records. They're called records. And I haven't got any - "

"Yes, you have," Remus corrected quietly without looking up.

"No," Sirius argued, "I left them all at your flat when I was thrown in Az-" He stopped suddenly and stared at the man beside him, "Wait - did you keep them?"

Remus felt himself blushing slightly, "They're in the attic," he admitted.

"Re, that's fucking brilliant! I can't believe you kept them! Have you still got my Cult album?"

Remus nodded, glancing around awkwardly.

"And Joy Division - what about them? Did they ever really get anywhere? So much promise, that band..."

"I believe the singer-"

"Ah, yeah - good old Ian Curtis. Fantastic musician... I worshipped him, you know..."

Remus gave an uncomfortable grimace, not sure how Sirius would react to finding out the chap was dead. He finally settled for, "Shall we talk about this later?"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely!" Sirius said enthusiastically, thumping the table, "What were we talking about? Oh. Yeah, fucking Muggle Studies..."

"Sirius, I am sure our students will find the mechanics of the late seventies a considerably more escapist take on the subject than the finer points of re-wiring a plug. Which I am sure we all agree would be a great benefit to them at this time."

Sirius gave an indistinct grumble, but it had to be said that the old man was right. "If he hadn't fucked up we wouldn't be having this conversation though, would we?" he complained, casting Snape a dark look. "Maybe if he'd told us what the fuck was going on a bit earlier - "

"If you know what is good for you, Black, you will not involve yourself in what you do not understand," the Potions master hissed through gritted teeth.

"What are you going to do, poison me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Oh, do put a sock in it, the pair of you!" Professor Sprout sighed impatiently. "We have much more to deal with than your petty bickering."

"Well, like I said, if Batfink here had told us about the fucking attack before it happened-"

"DON'T YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE DONE?" Snape bellowed suddenly, jumping to his feet. "Don't you think that I knew my duty? I knew nothing of these plans, you fool! Do you fail to see that this means they are aware of my allegiance to this school?"

"So basically you're saying you didn't cover yourself very well, aren't you?" Sirius replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Snape glowered at him, apparently on the verge of making a retort, but instead he turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, they left the castle via the courtyard, taking the route that led them past the north side of the Quidditch pitch. They walked in silence, a palpable tension between them. Remus was not an easy person to rile; in fact, he was infuriatingly passive at times, but when he did get annoyed his ability to keep calm was rather scary. Sirius tried his best to keep his mouth shut most of the way back to the cottage, but finally the tension was too unbearable and exploded, "WHAT?"

"What?" Remus echoed, his voice distinctly strained.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, aside from the fact that I feel more humiliated than I have done since-"

"HUMILIATED? What the fuck for? I got him back for you, didn't I?" Sirius demanded.

"Yes, and that is precisely my point."

"Re, I was just looking after you-"

"I don't need you to look after me, Siri! Don't you realise that he was trying to get a rise out of you?"

"But I want to look after you..."

"I am not your little woman, Padfoot," Remus told him impatiently. "If that's what you're looking for there's certainly no chance of things between us ever bearing any semblance to what they were."

"THAT IS HOW THEY WERE! I was always protecting you! Malphas, Snape, the fucking board of governors at the Academy..."

"And I hated it, Siri! I told you time after time that I could fight my own battles and you never listened. You never gave me the opportunity to learn to be self-dependant and then you weren't there to do it and I had to learn very quickly and all by myself. I'm not giving up my independence just so you can get one over on Severus."

"What do you take me for? I'm not fucking doing this to get one over on Snivellus! I'm doing this because the bastard was being a total fucking dickhead and I couldn't just sit there and listen to it!"

"You started it, Siri!"

"Are you being like this because you didn't get the mission?" the taller man demanded suddenly. "Because this isn't like you, Moony. You'd usually just-"

"Say nothing and accept the fate other people choose for me?"

"Moony they're right - we need you here! You wouldn't last five minutes out there anyway! Everyone knows how loyal you are to Dumbledore - to the kids - to everything this fucking place stands for!"

"I don't want to be the one left behind again, Padfoot-"

"What, so you want to go and get yourself killed so you aren't? That's very fucking considerate, Re, thanks."

"No, that's not what I meant..."

"So what then? Because I don't see why the morning after you and I start sorting shit out between us you're suddenly desperate to fuck off again!"

"Padfoot, it's nothing to do with that..." Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Then what is it?"

"Do you have any idea how I felt back then? I watched everyone around us putting themselves at risk to do things for the Order and what was my job? Researcher. I was probably the person who owed most to Dumbledore and everyone else who had made an effort to accept me and yet I was the one sitting in a nice, safe library reading. The only risk I came into contact with was my biscuit breaking off in my tea! I felt like a fraud."

"That's ridiculous, Moony! It was never about how much risk you took, it was about your loyalty to the Order!"

Remus gave a small, sardonic smile, "A little ironic, really, considering the fact that you thought I was the spy."

"What was I supposed to think? You started acting so strangely, Re! Refusing to see me, being secretive and distant - it wasn't like you, not when it came to us, and I just assumed that after - after we found you - you were under Imperius or something! Do you have any idea how much that ate at me? How hard it was to just let you distance yourself like that and try and convince myself that it was for the best?"

"I know, Padfoot, but I had to do that for that very reason. I got off so lightly and it didn't make sense - I assumed that they had done something to me which I didn't-"

"LIGHTLY? HOW CAN YOU FUCKING SAY THAT? THEY TORTURED YOU!" Sirius yelled, grasping him by the shoulders and coming very close to shaking him.

"Florry was dead, Sirius, do you remember? James and Lily were being hounded out of home after home and all they knew was that Voldemort wanted to take their baby from them. Your own brother was missing - I was still alive - that seemed far more generous than anyone would have expected from Death Eaters, wouldn't you say?"

"Maybe you've forgotten the state you were in when they dumped you on our doorstep, Remus, but I didn't. It's one of the few things I've always remembered far too clearly. Burns, welts - blisters all over you - you couldn't even speak for two days! You were in such a state and it was all my fucking fault!"

"No, Siri, don't start thinking that-"

"But it's true - if I had just fucking been on time they might never have got to you-"

"You had no idea that was going to happen and you can't keep taking the blame for what happened to other people. It was me who arranged to meet you there, wasn't it? It was me that wanted to take the risk-"

"I should have been there for you!" Sirius insisted, clenching his fists in frustration and looking as though he desperately needed something to take his temper out on.

"When will you learn that you cannot protect everyone all of the time? You were not responsible then and you are not responsible for me now. I don't need you, Sirius, and you've got to learn to accept that you can't control everything around you; especially not things that happened in the past."

"Right. If that's the fucking way you feel I'll get out from under your feet, shall I? I'll go and start packing."

"Don't be such an idiot! You know that isn't what I'm trying to say."

"You don't need me, Moony, you just fucking said so. So I'll get out of your way."

"Siri..." Remus groaned as the other man stomped away towards the cottage, "Siri, don't start throwing tantrums..." Sirius ignored him. Remus gave a defeated sigh and shook his head; this was not what he had intended to instigate. Wearily, he trudged across the lawns after the other man, feeling extremely mean and rather ashamed. Sirius had all the tact of a charging rhinoceros - he could pay a compliment and make it sound like a mortal insult - but Remus was far from used to upsetting people and he felt terribly guilty.

When he reached the back door he found it already open, and was met with the sounds of drawers being slammed shut upstairs. Apprehensively he headed for Sirius's bedroom. Sure enough, there he was, tossing various possessions onto the bed and completely missing the bag they were intended for.

"There's no need for this, Sirius," he said quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

"You said you don't need me, you don't want me protecting you... well, here you go. The less time we fucking spend together the less I can do it, right?" Sirius replied sulkily.

"Look, Padfoot, I don't want you to go storming off to stay in the castle at the first sign of a disagreement-"

"Well, if I go and stay up there permanently I can only do it the once."

"Oh for pity's sake, Sirius! Will you please grow up? You're too old for throwing tantrums, now."

"If you have nothing good to say don't say anything."

"I'm trying to say sorry. I phrased that poorly..."

"Too right you fucking did."

"Siri-"

"Leave me alone, I want to get this finished."

Remus gave a sigh and rubbed his eyes as Sirius very deliberately turned his back on him to pack the bag properly. Well, it seemed he had no other choice. He'd have to use the only kind of apology Sirius accepted. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he made his way across the room and grasped at the other man's arm, tugging him around to face him. I swear you're doing this on purpose... he thought as he reached up and took the other man's face in his hands, then leaned up and planted a lingering, but rather chaste kiss on his lips. He thought he felt them curve into a grin and for a fleeting moment it was as though time had turned back; it was 1981 again and he'd just said that the Hastings Harriers' star player looked like an over-sized Christmas pudding perched on a tooth pick. Only it was 1995 and things were very different; he pulled back and looked at the face of a young man he had once known, and hoped to know again.

You know me too well...

I know you're a manipulative git, at times.

But you always fall for it.

Anything for a quiet life, Siri...

"Anything?" Sirius asked hopefully, pulling the fair-haired man back towards him sharply.

"Not that."

"But-"

"Didn't your parents ever tell you to be happy with what you had?"

"I don't think they were quite thinking about this sort of thing when I was eight, Moo..."

"Well, no, I should hope not," Remus said with a slight grimace, "but none the less..."

"How could I possibly have forgotten what a tease you bloody are?" the other man said sulkily, folding his arms.

Remus gave him slightly wicked grin and muttered, "Selective memory."

~*~

It didn't take Harry long to find Draco; there were only two likely places for him to be, and he just happened to be in the first place that he looked - the secured room Dumbledore had assigned to them. The Slytherin was sitting at the table with his back to him, his head bowed, but as Harry walked in he demanded, "What are you doing here?" without even turning around.

"I was looking for you," Harry told him, carefully moving closer and feeling as though he were treading a minefield.

"Well, congratulations, you've found me. Now what do you want?"

"I think we need to talk about... well, about things, don't you?" he ventured awkwardly.

"About? Ohhh - about last night when you decided to abuse me in order to score points over the Neanderthal! Is that what you meant?" Draco asked with mock-curiosity.

"Drac, look, I wanted to say sorry - I really didn't mean for all that to happen," Harry told him truthfully. "I wasn't abusing you, either - not on purpose..."

"So you accidentally told me you love me and you accidentally tried to kiss me, did you? You seem very accident prone all of a sudden."

"Draco, don't be like that," Harry sighed, "you know that's not what happened."

"No, you're quite right - everything you did you did deliberately, drunk out of your tiny Gryffindor brain or otherwise."

"Look, Drac-"

"Drac-o."

"Oh will you just stop being so sodding pernickety?"

"No."

"I'm trying to apologise for my behaviour, Draco! I know I acted like a prat and I'm sorry. Can't you at least try to be gracious about it?"

"Why should I be gracious about it? If you learned to think about the consequences of your actions before you rushed in like a bull in an apothecary's and stopped acting like a prat in the first place maybe you wouldn't need to apologise quite so often."

Harry slumped down into the nearest chair and took a very deep breath. What else were you expecting, a welcome party and a trophy for being the biggest bastard in the school?

"Draco, just listen to me," he sighed, reaching out and placing a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "I care about you a lot and I never meant to upset you."

"Well you have."

"Then I'm sorry," Harry insisted, his thumb rubbing the area soothingly.

"At least you know what the Ravenclaw dolt is like, now. And I was right, wasn't I? He never liked you in the first place."

Harry looked up sharply, "For your information, Draco, he did - and he still does."

"Oh, stop deluding yourself! He was all over her, Harry! And just in case you failed to notice yourself, it-was-a-girl."

"I know," Harry replied, struggling to keep calm, "and he has explained everything."

"Oh really?" the other boy snorted, "And I suppose that made it all okay, so you gave him a nice big kiss and made up."

"More or less," Harry replied stiffly.

Draco stared at him for a moment, a look of a furious incredulity on his face, "Are you telling me that you have decided to get back together with him?"

"We never split up, actually."

The Slytherin gave him a look of sheer disgust and stood up abruptly. In seconds an over-stuffed armchair was a smouldering heap.

Oh great, Harry thought irritably, here we go again...

"I don't think I can be your friend anymore," the Slytherin said expressionlessly.

"What?"

"I said I don't think I can be your friend anymore."

"Why? Look, Draco-"

"Friends do not do this sort of thing to each other."

"Do what? Go out with other people? For God's sake, Draco, you don't own me!"

"Clearly."

"This isn't fair!"

"Which part? The part where I decide to remove myself from a situation which is not conducive to happiness on my part or the part where you ensure a lack of happiness on my part?"

"The part where you try to make me choose between you! That part!"

"I am not trying to make you choose anything, I merely refuse to jeopardise my sanity any further by playing a pawn in your pathetic little power game with Cross-"

"POWER GAME? What do you think I am, a bloody Slytherin?" Harry bellowed. "I've tried to tell you time after time that I did what I thought was a good thing! I was drunk, yeah, so my idea of what constituted a good thing might have been a bit off-centre, but I was doing what I thought would make you happy! I wish I did feel like that - I genuinely, honestly do - but I just... I don't know any more. I don't know... I want to make you happy but I don't... I like you - a lot - but I'm with Gavin and I like him, too, and..."

"You had the opportunity to find out, Harry, and you chose him."

"It couldn't work between us, could it? Even if I did feel...like... like that."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?"

"Oh forget it..."

"How can I?" the blond boy asked, almost helplessly. "It's staring me in the face all the time. How can you expect me to watch you do this knowing that I feel the way I do? Time and again he proves that he is not worthy of you and you expect me to pick you up and dust you down, without ever thinking about how it might affect me!"

"I do think! I did what I did because I thought that's what you wanted!"

"Then you are even stupider than I thought! I have a sense of self-preservation, even if you don't, and cannot continue to watch you do this and allow you to keep on wearing me down and making me think - " he stopped and looked away from him, a small pulse in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, "Making me think I had any reason to hope that you'll ever realise what it is that you could have if you asked for it."

"If you cared how I feel you wouldn't behave like this!" Harry replied, realising how pathetic he must sound just a fraction too late.

"I'm a Slytherin, Harry, we only care about number one," Draco reminded him sarcastically before giving him a long, contemplative stare and adding, "I think the Sorting Hat was right, you would have fitted in perfectly in our House."

Harry stared at him in silence for a moment, then strode from the room without another word, leaving the Slytherin to sink into the nearest chair, murmuring, "So much for happy birthday..."

Harry trudged into the Gryffindor common room miserably, paying little attention to what else was going on. After the morning he'd had the last thing he needed was to sit and stagnate in the pooled suffering of the rest of his House. He made his way up the winding stone staircase to the fifth year dorm, feeling like someone had transfigured his legs to lead. What had he done? What was he thinking when he said those things to Draco? He hadn't meant to, but they just seemed to come pouring out. He'd made it sound like he really had chosen Gavin over the Slytherin and he really hadn't - they weren't the same and he didn't have to choose between them because he liked them differently. So why had it ended up sounding so... So wrong?

He opened the dormitory door and was jerked from his thoughts by the sight of Hermione and Ron lying slumped against the ginger boy's pillows, his arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

"Oh..." he managed, vaguely, "I'll just... er... sorry..."

"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione asked, sitting up. "You look a little bit distracted."

"I'm alright, I s'pose...Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt..." He made to back out of the room, but was halted when she called after him:

"Harry, wait! You aren't interrupting anything."

From the look on Ron's face, he didn't quite agree, but he nodded and said, "Yeah, come here. You look like someone's broom-napped your Firebolt or something."

Harry wandered forlornly over to Ron's bed and perched on the end. "Everything's going wrong again," he declared.

Hermione gave him a pitying look and crawled nearer. "Oh Harry," she sighed, "We all knew he would be back, didn't we? It was only a matter of time."

"Yeah, and don't worry about Perfect Prefect Percy, he's alright," Ron added. "Worst luck."

"And Mr and Mrs Longbottom really weren't going to get any better. It's dreadfully sad for Neville, of course, but there was nothing you could have done and you can't expect to be able to stop everything Voldemort does."

"I wish you'd stop using that word, you two! Especially now!" Ron complained, moving down to sit on Harry's other side.

"I'm not talking about him."

The other two looked at each other in surprise. "Then what on Earth are you talking about, Harry?"

"D'you remember this morning when I told you Draco and I weren't friends any more?"

"You what?" Ron asked in amazement, "You're going to stop hanging around with Malfoy at last? Wicked!"

"Actually, it's more like he's going to stop hanging around with me, Ron."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a stupid prat."

"Well yeah, I reckon you were to start hanging around with him in the first place."

"Oh Ron, shut up! You're starting to sound like a stuck record!"

"Like a what?"

"Never mind."

"So what's happened? And why are you so sodding miserable again?"

"Because..." Harry stopped and took a deep breath; this was probably going to go down like a lead balloon, "Because last night I saw Gavin... er... I saw him kissing someone and I got a bit upset and so I let Seamus and Dean give me this stuff they had and I got a bit... drunk... and then I saw Draco-"

"Woah, woah, WOAH!" Ron interrupted, his face like thunder, "You saw Gavin doing what?"

Harry blushed and quietly admitted, "Kissing someone. Someone else."

"Oh right, 'cause I was expecting it to be the other you that's wandering around the school, you big poncey idiot," Ron tutted. "So, I mean - you've dumped him, right?"

Harry stared at his hands.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted suspiciously, "Have you dumped him?"

Harry shook his head. "No... He explained everything and it wasn't what it looked like, honestly..."

"So what the bloody hell was he doing and how come you're stupid enough to forgive him, eh?" Ron demanded, "That's a shitty thing to do!"

"No, Ron-"

"But Harry, how could you trust him after something like that? It's completely unacceptable."

"It wasn't like that, Herm, he didn't start it - she did - and then -"

"SHE?"

"Er... yeah, it was one of the girls from the team..."

"You've got to be bloody joking!"

"Um... no."

Ron gave an angry growl and muttered, "And to think of all the help we gave them! Bloody scumbag! It's a good job we only let him come to the one practise, Harry..."

Harry decided it was best not to argue with that, but instead explained, "He knows it wasn't the right thing to do and he has apologised, y'know? He thought he was being kind to her by not being rude about it. He says she's liked him for ages, but he doesn't like her back..."

"Personally, Harry, I think you're positively mad to trust him again. I know I wouldn't." She cast Ron a meaningful look and he cowered slightly, looking rather afraid. "But I don't understand how this is a problem for your... friendship... with Draco Malfoy."

Harry grimaced and quietly said, "Because he saw what happened too, and he came and found me and I was really drunk and I sort of... um..."

"You sort of what?"

"I sort of told him that I... that I... I want to like him back and I think I told him that I love him or something-"

"YOU SAID WHAT?" Hermione demanded at a near-screech, causing Ron to topple from the bed in alarm.

"I... well, I said I loved him and I think I tried to kiss him... But it was because I was drunk and I was just trying to be nice to him-"

"Nice? Is lying to the boy about something like that nice in your opinion, Harry?"

"I wasn't lying!" Harry protested, "It's only lying if you deliberately tell someone something you know isn't true!"

"And it's true that you love Draco Malfoy?"

"No-"

"Well, for God's sake Harry how can you expect us to know what you're on about when even you don't your-bloody-self?"

"I don't - I - "

"I almost feel sorry for Malfoy, you know - being lumbered with a great prat like you."

"It's not my fault! I don't know what's going on any more! I wish I'd never spoken to Gavin and that Draco and I still hated each other!"

Hermione gave an impatient sigh and told him not to be so defeatist. "One minute you're wishing you were in love with Malfoy and the next that you still hated him! It's preposterous, Harry. You really ought to sit down and have a long think about how you feel because it isn't fair on Malfoy."

Ron gave her an astonished look.

"Well, it's not!" she told him, "I don't like the boy one bit but that's no reason to make him suffer, is it?"

Ron made an indistinct grumble.

So, that night, Harry thought. Again. Only, this time there was a whole new angle on the matter. He tried and tried to think of Draco in a romantic light - and the theory was becoming slightly less weird and disturbing - but every time he did so Gavin's face would pop up and he would be stumped again, his concentration being rather taken with large brown eyes and an infectious chuckle that wouldn't seem to leave his mind. The Slytherin wasn't unattractive, either, but Harry had never really thought much of blonds; never thought much about them... Particularly about the sort of Ice Prince variety that Draco very definitely was. They'd always struck him as rather... sexless. Dull and not remotely tactile, which was something he liked very much about Gavin. It was perfectly okay to hold Gavin's hand or give him a quick kiss when no one was looking, but with Draco Harry really didn't think he could feel comfortable doing things like that - which took all the fun out of things as far as he was concerned.

And yet, there was an intimacy between him and Draco that he knew he didn't share with Gavin, but then, he and Draco had been through some considerably difficult times over the past couple of months. Maybe if Gavin was going to be murdered I'd be a bit closer to him, too... he thought cynically.

He tried to think of Draco in a more physical light - and failed dismally. It was all pointy elbows and cold skin; Draco always felt like he was recovering from Hypothermia. Gavin didn't; he felt pleasantly warm all the time. Like a normal person. And Gavin definitely was normal. Very normal. He was popular, he fitted in and a he didn't look like he'd snap if you hugged him. And yet, he wasn't arrogant or cocksure - in fact, he and Draco were complete polar opposites. Gavin gave him weird fluttery feelings; Draco gave him more stress that he really needed during an exam year.

But I know Draco wouldn't hurt me. I know that. And Gavin...He didn't do that on purpose, did he? McKnight jumped on him. And he won't do it again. I know he won't because he was so worried about it when he thought I was going to dump him. He looked so scared... I can't believe I mean that much to him. I couldn't go back on my word now... I did promise that I'd forgiven him, after all - it'd be cruel to change my mind now! But this is the last chance. If he does anything wrong again me and him are finished for good. For definite, this time...

The next morning classes started again. Harry made his way down to breakfast surrounded by a sense of valiant optimism through grief. Nothing seemed quite so dreadful in the light of a bright November morning; Voldemort had been defeated before - surely he could be defeated again? And with Dumbledore around they were in the safest place in the world, surely? Harry didn't feel quite so buoyant. It hadn't registered until that morning, when he rose to find Neville's bed hadn't been slept in, that his parents had been in the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's. He had been sent home to be with his grandmother and prepare for the funeral. Seamus and Dean were in the hospital wing, having practically poisoned themselves with their carefully modified mulled wine. He wondered how much they must have drunk to require medical treatment.

He had barely finished his single slice of toast when he felt a pair of hands clamp onto his shoulders and looked up to see who was standing over him, having learned his lesson well.

"'Lo," Gavin said with a forced smile.

"You alright?" Harry asked in concern, almost reaching up and covering the hand on his left shoulder with his own, but catching himself in time.

"C'n I 'ave a word?"

"Of course, what's wrong?"

"In private?"

"Oh. Oh... okay." He leaned down and picked up his bag. "I'll see you in Potions," he told the others, who both gave the Welsh boy dark looks and nodded at Harry with rather obvious disapproval.

"They're angry wi' me, aren' they?" Gavin asked at they passed through the hall doors, looking rather concerned and even more miserable.

"They're alright," Harry reassured him, "they're just a bit... protective of me, sometimes. They think I can't look after myself unless a situation involves Quidditch, dragons or Voldemort."

The Ravenclaw managed a weak smile back.

"Gavin, what's wrong? You seem really down..." Harry asked again, squeezing his hand.

Squeezing back, Gavin led him towards a dull wooden door and led him into the store cupboard beyond. "Simon's dad died in the night," he mumbled once the door was closed firmly behind them.

"Oh - God, I'm sorry..." Harry gushed immediately giving him a tight hug. "How's Simon? Is he alright? What happened?"

"Simon's bein' sent 'ome," the Welsh boy told him, holding onto him as if he was cuddling a fluffy toy for comfort. "I dunno what 'appened, really, but I'm frightened, 'Arry - who's next? Y' never think stuff like this is goin' t'appen t' you. T' people you know, an'... I'm glad I still got you an' you're 'ere 'cause I don' think anythin' c'n get us 'ere, an' if anythin' appens outside... t'my family... well, at least I' still got you, see?"

Harry cringed slightly thinking how he had been considering splitting up with him. I'm so glad I decided not to... He came to me, didn't he? How the hell did I ever think like that...?

Draco stood outside the Potions classroom carefully eavesdropping on the conversation between the two thirds of the Trinity he wasn't in the mood to throttle for a change. He'd seen what happened at breakfast, the Neanderthal demanding Harry leave the room with him and Harry following along like a pathetic little puppy. He actually gave a tiny gurgle of a growl and was glad for the fact that the rest of the class were making enough noise to drown it out.

"But if he's late-"

"Oh what does it matter anyway, 'Mione? He'll lose some points - big-bloody-deal. It's not like he listens to us, anyway, is it?"

"But Ron, did you see the look on his face? Don't you think it looked a little bit grim? A little bit like he had some bad news to tell? What if... what if Harry decided not to ... do anything about what happened and now you-know-who has and Harry's upset?" Granger gushed irritatingly fretfully.

Put the cotton wool away, wench. If he can dish it out he can take it.

At that moment, Snape swept into the room and snapped, "In. Now!" at the students waiting in the corridor. He was about to close the door when Harry dashed in. He was flushed and looked somewhat like he'd been dragged through a patch of Venomous Grumbling Shrubs a few times. Snape stared at him with a look of contemptuous glee and said, "Mr Potter. Late again. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry made no reply but merely walked to his desk. Snape ordered Zabini and the irritating little Patil creature to assist him with the ingredients for the day's lesson; Granger immediately began to demand to know where Harry had been. He shrugged and muttered something about the boy named Wood from the Ravenclaw team; the faces of the other two Gryffindors fell instantly.

"So where did you go?" the Weasel asked far too loudly for what Draco felt should have been a private conversation.

"Gavin was upset... I went to comfort him a bit. I mean, it's his best friend's dad, isn't it? He knew him really well."

Convenient little excuse, there...

"What are you waiting for?" Snape's voice demanded from the store cupboard, "Get your cauldrons out and begin heating them. Do your notes not state clearly that the metal has to be hot before the process can begin? Potter, ten points from Gryffindor for not setting an example."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered flatly, before sticking two fingers up at the professor's back.

"And another ten for assuming that I do not have eyes in the back of my head."

All three Gryffindors gaped after him in disbelief.

Time was dragging for Draco. It seemed to take forever for the pot to reach sufficient temperature and no sooner had he begun to add his African frog moss and raven bile to the already simmering pool of cat urine than Granger began whispering again. He tried to ignore her, but somehow knew she was interrogating Harry about why he had been late for class - he wished he could hear Harry's response over the bubbling of the cauldrons, but couldn't make out anything he said. Suddenly, Granger gave a high-pitched squeak and cried, "Harry! What on Earth happened to your neck?" which naturally attracted the attention of most of the class. Draco refused to look.

"Er..." he heard Harry mumble vaguely before the Weasel cut in:

"Bloody hell, Harry! Have you seen the size of the love bite on your neck?"

Every single cauldron fire in the room flared and almost simultaneously the cauldrons themselves exploded in a foul-smelling shower of cat wee and bile. Pugsy Parkinson and the horrible little bimbettes from Gryffindor burst into tears as they began to turn an ugly shade of orange and their ears swelled to the size of mangoes. Weasley burst into fits of laughter, pointing at Harry and Granger, who in turn pointed out that his entire body matched his hair, now. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other stupidly as if they had no idea what was happening and Draco himself was glad that he did not have a mirror to hand. He looked up to see a decidedly carrot-coloured Snape advancing upon him slowly, a look of sheer, unbridled menace upon his face. He raised his hand and pointed silently at the door for a moment before bellowing, "OUT! BLACK! NOW!"

Draco was rather glad for the excuse to leave; he suspected that if he had been made to remain his punishment for laughing at the furious, orange Potion Master's mango-sized ears would be considerably worse.

Black was sitting on the desk in his classroom when Draco arrived, reading something on a piece of parchment and tutting impatiently. He looked up when Draco knocked on the door, and promptly spent the best part of ten minutes laughing at him. This did not do much to improve Draco's mood.

"Fuck up with the Sincerity Potion?"

"How did you guess?" Draco barked back irritably.

"Remus blew up ours when we did it. He was crap at Potions and it's pretty volatile, isn't it?" Black explained, still grinning annoyingly.

"I did happen to notice."

"So what did you do to yours?"

"There was a fluctuation of cooking temperature."

"Meaning you back drafted the fires. I see. And what's my godson done to piss you off this time?"

Draco scowled, "That's between me and Harry."

"You always say that and I always find out," Black told him. "But, as it happens, I think I already know."

"Do you really?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well, do you plan to elaborate or are you attempting to annoy me further?"

"It's because the mental little sod otherwise known as my godson got completely off his tits last night and jumped you," he declared with an air as annoyingly superior as Granger giving the answer to a question for which no one else had volunteered.

"You think so?"

"I'd put money on it."

"Well, you're not very well informed, then."

"What?"

"Did Harry tell you what happened? Did he mention that so-called 'boyfriend' of his getting extremely cosy with one of the girls from his Quidditch team?"

"Yes, he did actually."

"Right, well, did he tell you who it was that tried to make him feel better? Me. Did he mention who had been warning him about the hairy monstrosity since all this began? Or who it is he comes running to when he needs to talk about something and doesn't want to come to you and Lupin or Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Brainiac? Me - as if I really want to know about his sordid little love life! I try to be his friend, despite everything, and this is how he repays me!"

"Oh come on, Malfoy - if you're going to give him mixed signals all the fucking time what do you expect? He's only bloody fifteen years old and he's got no idea what's going on with his fucking hormones - don't you start getting arsey with him because you lead him on and he responds! You didn't see the poor little bastard the other night, bawling his eyes out because you'd fucking yelled at him. If you've got a problem with him being the way he is you'd either better learn to fucking get over it or just fuck off!" Black told him defensively, "And I doubt he's fucking likely to do it sober, if that's what you're worried about."

Draco stared at him in disbelief. "You think this is because I have a problem with his sexuality?"

"I reckon you were offended by it when he tried it on, yeah. So if that is the case, Malfoy, you'd better learn to be a bit fucking more tolerant-"

"Tolerant? Maybe you should be telling Harry to be a bit less tolerant because he'd letting Cross get away with murder!"

"You what?"

"Oh? Haven't you heard about that either? Cross told him some sob story and Harry forgave him at the drop of a hat!" Draco told him, feeling the anger and frustration building up again; coursing through the veins around his neck, shoulders and arms in a wash of peculiar fizziness.

Black stared at him in surprise before composing himself enough to say, "So things are working out for them. Why can't you just be happy for him?" in a distinctly accusatory tone.

Draco completely lost his rag, and before he knew it he was yelling back, "Happy for him? How can I be happy for him when I'm in love with him? Why is it people assume that falling in love with someone renders you completely selfless and capable of watching passively while everything you want gets wasted on someone else? It doesn't desensitise you - it makes everything a hundred times worse! How can you expect me to be happy for him?" He knew as he said it that he was saying too much, saying more than he wanted to, but he couldn't stop himself. It all came flowing out in a long stream, but it did so with such conviction, such sincerity, that he simply had to let it. At the back of his mind he remembered something about a potion, but carried on, almost unable to stop himself. "I have tried so hard to help him and pretend it didn't matter and I'm sick of it! I'm not doing it anymore. He doesn't care - he runs straight back to the Ape Boy as soon as he clicks his fingers - why should I bother-"

"Malfoy, shut it for a minute, will you?" Black interrupted suddenly, looking at him as though he were a venomous tentacula about to strike, "You're talking a load of bollocks. What's all this crap about - what was it? - being in love with Harry?"

"Exactly what I said. What else would it mean, that I want to borrow his socks?"

"Don't get clever with me, kid."

Draco gave a frustrated sigh and complained, "It's not fair, Black. I've tried everything I can think of short of spiking his pumpkin juice to make him like me and all he does is tell me how wonderful the two-timing beast is. I can't do it any more."

"This is a fucking joke, isn't it?" Black asked warily.

"NO! WHY WON'T YOU DAMN WELL LISTEN TO ME?"

"I AM LISTENING!" Black yelled back at him, "You're telling me you're - you of all fucking people - are in love with my godson! What d'you expect me to do? Fucking dance? It's bloody ridiculous, anyway. You're fifteen years old, you don't even know what love is."

Draco glared up at him, trying to hold his lip from quivering. "I'm sixteen," he said through gritted teeth; "It was my birthday yesterday."

"Many happy returns."

"Happy? How do you expect me to be happy about anything? Harry is driving me insane, my father and his master have started to attack and I know that the more they do the sooner I am likely to die!" Draco replied, "What could I possibly have to be happy about?"

Black gave him an awkward smile and offered, "You'll only be orange for a couple of hours."

This was the straw that broke the camel's back. Draco sank into the nearest chair and murmured, "I can't do this anymore," placing his head in his hands. "I don't want to feel like this. If I had the choice I'd never have met him; you could never understand how much I hate him, sometimes-"

"Oi, that's my godson you're whinging about, kid," Black said unusually compassionately as Draco felt him move to sit on the table in front of him. "And I don't think you meant it, anyway..."

"He just makes me so angry, Black," the Slytherin sighed miserably. "I can not help feeling... like this... it's not something I enjoy, it's not something beneficial to me - it just gnaws away at me constantly and Harry is so stupid and naïve that he either doesn't understand or doesn't care when his idiotically Gryffindor actions get to me like this. And don't tell me I'm too young to know what I'm talking about because I do. You weren't so very much older than me when you went to Azkaban; how can you be sure you know what love is?"

"I was about five or six years older than you, mate. It's a big difference," Black said without his usual arrogant confidence, but with an inflection of what may have been wistfulness. It sat about as comfortably on his persona as a sombrero on a porcupine. "I've been in love. I know what it's like, I can bloody well assure you, and it may not all be moonlight and roses - definitely not where we were concerned - but it shouldn't be all misery and angst. That completely defeats the object."

"You've never known unrequited love, obviously."

Black sat for a moment without saying a word, then muttered, "I'm learning."

Draco stared up at him, slightly surprised by the comment. "How did it end?"

"It never really did. I just went to Azkaban and everything was left... unresolved," Black said carefully, adding, "You repeat any of this kid and I'll kick your arse."

"If you say so..." Draco shrugged despondently. "So now you're free what are you going to do?

"Try to pick up the pieces. I don't think things will ever be how I remember them, as he keeps telling me, but-"

"He?" Draco interrupted, almost sputtering in astonishment. "You are - you're...? It's a he? Who on Earth is it?"

"That's privileged information."

"Does Harry know?"

"No, and if you fucking tell him I'll string you up from the East Tower spire by your Quidditch box - and I've done it to people in the past, so don't think I'm joking," Black warned.

"I can assure you that I have no trouble believing that."

"Good, so you'd better keep your gob shut."

"Is it someone I know?"

"Could be..." Black told him slightly shiftily, "But like I said, it's privileged information."

Draco sat back in his chair and gave yet another sigh, "So what do I do? If you're such an authority on the matter what do I do?"

"Never said I was an authority on the matter," Black corrected, sliding off the table and standing up. "In fact, I'm crap at the tea and sympathy thing-"

"Oh, well, a great lot of use you are..."

"-but I know someone who's brilliant at it."

"Really?" Draco asked flatly.

"Yep. Come on, Pumpkin Boy, I think it's time you got to know an old mate of mine a bit better..."

"Lupin?"

"Absolutely."

"You've got to be joking."

Black shook his head and took a firm grasp on Draco's shoulder, as though preparing to frog-march him all the way to the shoebox of a cottage they all lived in, "Not even slightly. And trust me, if anyone knows about angst it's him."

"Lupin?" Draco said again even more doubtfully.

"The guy's been through more shit in his life than you can shake a stick at, so just bloody trust me, alright?"

Draco gave a dubious grumble, but reluctantly allowed himself to be led from the classroom.

Lupin was standing close to the kitchen window when they arrived, a vaguely distant expression upon his face that rapidly altered to a look of alarm when he registered their presence on the other side of the pane. He moved to the back door and greeted them with a bemused, "So I'm not the only one who can't make Sincerity Potions..."

Black gave him a twisted grin and said, "Nope. Reme, you know Malfoy, Malfoy you know Remus. Talk."

Lupin gazed at him as if he were suggesting he takeoff his clothes and dance around Hogsmeade singing Auld Lang Syne backwards. "What about?" he finally asked lightly, clearly trying to seem perfectly willing.

"Being miserable."

Lupin's expression turned rather cold. "Naturally, I'm the best person to deal with that sort of thing, aren't I?"

"Well... yeah. You've been through a lot of shit and I really can't do the talking thing like you can," Black told him almost like a child trying to win around a parent. He gave Draco a small shove towards the other man and said, "Malfoy's feeling a bit miserable because of Harry. It seems that our godson's not telling us everything..."

Lupin gave a faintly uncomfortable look and replied, "Really?" before asking hopefully, "Would anyone like any tea?"

"Don't change the subject, Moony," Black told him sternly, "You and me are responsible for the little maverick and said maverick has not only been copping it with the Ravenclaw kid - who he's forgiven, by the way - but has been leading Malfoy here a merry fucking dance."

"But I thought Gavin was kissing someone from his house, a couple of days ago...?"

"He was," Draco informed him. "Apparently, it was a mistake."

"Oh, I am sorry, Draco," Lupin said, laying a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder. "But if it's any consolation he was rather upset at the thought that you may be angry with him for... what he did."

"Oi!" Black cried suddenly, "Moony did you know about this?"

Lupin looked even more uncomfortable, "Yes," he admitted hesitantly, "but as Harry pointed out, it was neither his secret nor mine to tell, Siri-"

"You could have told me! For God's sake, how much is there going on in this household that I don't fucking know about?" Black demanded, causing the considerably smaller Lupin to give him a quelling look and murmur something about not talking about things like that when the subject was present.

"Don't blame Lupin on my account," Draco said, "I would be having words with Harry about that myself if I were speaking to him."

Both Lupin and Black stopped and stared at him as if he had just sprouted horns.

"What do you mean, you're not talking to him?" Lupin asked apprehensively. "Draco, really, that's a little extreme, isn't it? Harry was really quite upset the other night - "

"No fucking shit-"

"-and I really think that you should talk about all this before-"

"We have spoken about 'all this'," Draco said sulkily. "What do you think happened yesterday, when he told me he was planning to happily jump back in the sack with King Kong?"

"Fucking hell, they're sleeping together!" Black exclaimed, a look of horror on his face. Lupin gave a small sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose wearily.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco snapped, "It was a figure of speech." At least I hope it was...

"I wouldn't put anything past either of them," Sirius grumbled.

"Nor I," Lupin conceded quietly.

"Aren't you going to do something about it?" the blond boy asked. "Can't you ban them from seeing one another or something?"

"Oh no, I really don't think that would be a good idea," Lupin replied immediately, brushing his hair out of his eyes and casting Black a half-glance, "I've seen exactly that method go dreadfully wrong..."

"But if Harry-"

"Look at it this way, kid," Black began, laying a hand on his shoulder as if confiding in him, "what does Harry do to rules? Ignores them. What did James Potter do to rules? Break as many as he could. And coming from us two it'd be a bit rich, really, wouldn't it?"

"It would just exacerbate the whole thing and make him more determined to continue the relationship."

They had a point.

"It's not fair," Draco complained.

"Life isn't fair," Black reminded him cynically.

"Draco, I can assure you that as far as Gavin Cross is concerned, we are both on your side," Lupin told him kindly, "but we cannot dictate Harry's social life. That wouldn't be fair, either."

"Life isn't fair," Draco returned, bringing a smirk to Black's lips. "And it's not fair that when he needs sympathy he comes running to me and acts as if I'm a shoulder for hire, I spend every other breath telling him not to touch me because I don't like it and he just carries on and now, now he does this!"

Lupin, frowned thoughtfully and murmured, "No... no, that isn't fair..."

"Didn't he tell you that part?" Draco asked irritably, turning to Black. "And you accused me of leading him on!"

"Well, how was I supposed to fucking know? I didn't know all this was going on because no one tells me anything around here and even if I had I'd only bloody heard Harry's side of the story - what was I supposed to think?"

"There's no point in arguing about this," Lupin cut firmly before Draco could answer. "Draco, why don't you sit down and we'll have a proper discussion. Sirius... go and make yourself useful somewhere else."

"Like where?"

"Anywhere that isn't going to get my kitchen reduced to cinders."

"Oh, thanks, Moony, thanks very fucking much."

"Stop swearing."

"Piss off!"

"Oh grow up, Padfoot!"

"Excuse me," Draco said loudly, "when you've quite finished acting like children..."

Both men looked at him for a moment before fighting back grins.

"Fucking hell, it's Lily Evan's back from the dead..."

"I thought I told you -" Lupin began again before stopping and biting his lip a little self-consciously. "Right, Draco would you like anything to drink?"

"Strychnine?"

"No."

"Cyanide?"

"Anything that won't kill you?"

"No, thank you."

"Well, I'm making tea, so if you change your mind just say so," Lupin told him with a small grin. "Sirius, I've thought of something you can be doing, seeing as it's Wednesday and you don't seem to be doing the essay marking you're supposed to be."

"What?" Black asked suspiciously.

"Get up in the loft and see if you can find the box of albums we were talking about yesterday."

"You do it!"

"They're largely your albums and they're intended for what may well be your classes, Sirius."

Black scowled and muttered, "You're such a slave driver!"

"And you're a lazy sod. Go on, go." With reluctant obedience, Black sauntered off into the living room, while Lupin continued to make tea.

Draco was too busy gazing around at the worn but comfortable furnishings in the room to pay any attention to their bickering. The house may be small but he had to admit that it was spotlessly clean and tidy without being so neat you were afraid to touch anything. He supposed that this is how the average wizard lived. The ones who couldn't trace back their family trees for twenty-five generations and link in with every major aristocratic dynasty noted in history. He thought it had a strange, vaguely comforting charm to it. The fire in the grate was what actually seemed to heat the room, instead of the numerous warming charms they used at the Manor, where the ceilings were so high and the rooms were so large that they were virtually impossible to warm without them.

He looked up at the bespectacled face of his former teacher as he settled in the chair opposite and noted that his eyes were certainly much greener that the last time he had visited. He wondered when the next full moon was.

"So," Lupin began gently, "tell me exactly what has been going on, because it seems rather clear to me that Harry isn't telling quite the full story."

"Where do you want me to begin?"

"Wherever you think is relevant."

"That narrows it down..." Draco said, frowning, "My entire life revolves around him, these days. And he knows it."

"As foolish as Harry can be, Draco, I really cannot believe that he would do anything to hurt you. Not intentionally. He has a very good heart, even if he has a worryingly Gryffindor head."

"Yes, but his heart, unfortunately, is in completely the wrong place."

"As far as you're concerned, perhaps."

"Yes. And as far as I'm concerned it's where his heart is as far as I'm concerned that matters."

"Naturally," Lupin conceded with a small smile, before taking a sip from his cup of tea. "I'm sorry that he's being so difficult. I really had no idea before Halloween night that you liked Harry in such a way."

"He knew. It didn't change the way he behaved."

"Perhaps it did, though," Lupin suggested with a small shrug. "He kept telling me that he was only trying to be nice to you. Maybe he thought he was doing what you wanted him to."

He was... just for the wrong reasons...

"I don't want him to pretend. He only did it because he was drunk and miserable, it had nothing to do with genuinely being interested in me."

"With all due respect, Draco, he was absolutely distraught when he came home. I have never seen him as shaken as he was about this. I can't say that I'm sure what is going on in Harry's head, but I suspect that he feels rather awful about it, too..."

"With all due respect to you, Lupin, you clearly have no idea what he is like the rest of the time."

Lupin gazed at him curiously for a moment, then prompted, "Perhaps not. Would you like to tell me?"

"He's confusing," Draco began after a moment, studying the grain in the worn wooden table. "He'll sit with me and tell me all about things with Cross and while he's doing it he'll... touch me. On the hands, shoulders... things like that. I have told him not to so many times, but he never listens. He knows I dislike it because it makes me uncomfortable, but he still does it. He's always hugging me, touching me - it's so frustrating! Sometimes I can't decide whether I want to shout at him to stop or...or just reciprocate. If I did, though, I know I'd lose him altogether. Harry finds it far too hard to cope with the idea that I have feelings too... When we study together he sits as close to me as he can and... we get on so well, Lupin. I don't understand what he sees in that Ravenclaw idiot - the only thing they have in common is Quidditch! It isn't like us. Harry and I really talk... we really... we suit each other. It isn't fair for him to tell me he loves me when he doesn't. It... hurts."

"He told you he loves you?" Lupin asked inquisitively, his eyebrows knitted into a half-frown.

"He said it on Halloween, while he was sobbing on my shoulder and trying to... when he was trying to kiss me."

"I see," Lupin nodded, taking a sip from his tea. "I can see how difficult it must be for you. We have to remember that Harry is quite a tactile person, though, Draco-"

"That's rubbish and you and I both know it. I've known him since he was eleven and he hardly ever touches those friends of his."

"Well, maybe he's more so with you because he knows that you feel for him in a different way to Ron and Hermione."

"I don't want pity."

"Few people do, but sometimes you have to learn the difference between pity and empathy."

"'Pity' has no 'e'."

Lupin gave him a gently admonishing look and took another sip of his tea. Before beginning to say, slightly cautiously, "I do understand, you know. I may be a little past that sort of thing as far as someone your age is concerned, but there are things from my youth that mirrored your current situation really quite closely. I know only too well how futile and disheartening it can feel to be in love with someone you can't have and, even worse, to have to watch them enjoy themselves with other people while you try to be supportive of them."

"I hate it," Draco told him sullenly. "It was my birthday yesterday and I spent the whole thing by myself. I couldn't face walking into the Hall for dinner and seeing him... I can't stand being around my Housemates. They're a bunch of vile little creeps, constantly scheming and trying to better each other over petty things. Harry isn't like that... I thought he was better than them, but then he keeps on doing things and saying things that just make me want to hex him into dust. Are you sure Black isn't actually his father?"

Lupin gave a small, knowing smile and said, "Quite, quite sure." He took a long drink of his tea, perhaps to hide a broader grin, the admitted, "I think I owe you an apology, Draco. I let my opinion of your father cloud my judgment and I fear I may have been rather unjust in my attitude towards you. I'm sorry; you don't seem to be the sort of person I quite expected." He paused thoughtfully, then opened his mouth to say something else, only to be interrupted by an apocalyptically loud crash. With remarkable speed for one who looked so perpetually exhausted, he shot from the kitchen and through the living room. Rather more apprehensively, Draco followed. He could hear an apparently ceaseless stream of expletives pouring from upstairs, punctuated by the sounds of Lupin suggesting Black calm down.

He found them standing in the middle of a bedroom completely coated in dust and bearing a rather large hole in the ceiling. Black was scrabbling around trying to scratch his back and finally heaved his top off complaining extremely loudly about the dust being itchy. Lupin looked vaguely amused.

"I see you haven't located the albums, yet," Draco observed, cocking one eyebrow.

"Shut up," Black snapped, throwing his balled up top harshly onto the bed, then choking on the dust it threw up.

Lupin, too, gave a cough and fanned the air around his face before saying mildly, "Go and have a bath you clumsy lump. I'll fix this." He turned and headed back down stairs, muttering to Draco as he passed, "If you want something done ask anyone but Sirius..."

Draco gave him a small smile and looked back just as Black stomped out of the room and towards the bathroom. He left the door wide open as he leaned over and began to run the bath. He was thinner that he looked, Draco noted as he watched the small bumps of the man's spine protrude rather sharply. In the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades the Slytherin spotted something, a kind of marking imprinted in a dark bluish-black, and moved forward for a closer look.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?"

"That. On your back," Draco explained, "It's some kind of... is it one of those Muggle things? A tattoo?"

Black twisted and tried to see over his own shoulder. "Er..."

Draco stepped nearer and squinted at it, "It is. And... that's the astrological symbol for Cancer! What on Earth have you got that for?"

"Cancer..." Black echoed vaguely. "Who says it's not mine?"

"You - Cancer? Oh don't patronise me, Black! You - homely, generous, gentle, kind, intellectual? I think not. It sounds to me more like - " Draco stopped mid-scoff and gazed at him with sudden disbelieving realisation. But of course! Why hadn't he seen it before? It was so very obvious, now. "Ohh, I see," he concluded, a wicked little smirk forming on his mouth. "LUPIN?" he shouted down the stairs.

A moment later the sandy-haired man was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a book of "How to Wand Away... Household Disasters", looking up at them curiously. "Yes?"

"Lupin, I was wondering, do you happen to have any of those things Muggles call tattoos?" Draco asked innocently.

Lupin looked surprised and had begun to say that he had when Black called out, "No! Don't tell him, Moony!"

"Why on Earth not?"

"May I see it?" Draco prodded, still as innocently as he knew how, "I've been fascinated by Muggles for an awfully long time and I would really like to see one if you have one."

"Oh, well of course..." Lupin made his way back up the stairs and hesitated, giving Black a strange look, before lifting up his robes and trouser leg to display a small, curly V-shape low on his right ankle.

Draco gave a distinctly wicked grin, this time. "Ah yes, Aries. I thought so," he said, casting Black a triumphant look. "It's very sweet, you know - if a little tacky. But he's your Achilles heel, Lupin - what a compliment."

Lupin was suddenly rather pink around the cheeks. Black looked thoroughly miffed.

"Harry doesn't know, does he?" Draco asked, still smirking.

"No, he doesn't and if you fucking tell him -"

"Draco, this is a very complex issue for us. These tattoos were drawn a long, long time ago. Things change and..." he hesitated and cast the briefest of glances in Black's direction before looking very decidedly away, "...neither Sirius nor I know what will happen, yet. To tell Harry now would only make things more complicated and we really would prefer not to trouble him with this, too."

"Just keep your trap shut, basically. Or else."

"Oh, believe me, I have no desire to tell anyone about this."

"Good."

"I definitely don't need the mental images that would accompany it."

That evening, Harry strolled into the kitchen completely oblivious to any sense of anticipation or foreboding. All he knew was that he was supposed to visit the cottage after classes and had obediently trotted over at his first opportunity. When he walked into the living room and found himself met with a matching pair of grim faces; he halted rather abruptly.

"What?" he asked slowly.

"Harry," Remus began, and Harry suddenly recognised a slight look of concern amid the pale green, "we need to have a talk."

"Why? What's happened?" Harry asked worriedly, absently raising a hand to rub at his scar.

"We were hoping you'd tell us that, actually," Sirius told him, looking a touch annoyed.

"What?" Harry asked again, by now even more confused.

"We had a visitor, today, Harry," Remus began. "Sirius brought Draco to the cottage because he was rather upset."

"What? Is he okay? Is it his dad?"

"No," Sirius replied, "It's you."

"Me?" Harry asked with wide eyes, "Wh-what did he say?"

"He said that when you're not off fucking gallivanting around with the Welsh kid you're basically treating Malfoy like shit."

"What?"

Remus gave a slight grimace, as if unsure how to proceed. "Harry, he told me how you have a tendency to be... over affectionate with him - not just on Halloween, but often. He said that although he has asked you quite regularly to stop you still carry on, and he really finds it very difficult."

"I - I don't mean... You don't understand..." Harry said helplessly, sitting down heavily in the armchair. "It's not like that..."

"Unfortunately, Draco feels it is, Harry," Remus told him patiently, "and he's finding the whole thing rather unpleasant." He moved over to the side of the chair and crouched down beside him. "I don't believe for one moment that you would so anything to hurt him for malicious reasons, but Harry, really, some things are just not appropriate."

"You can fucking say that again!"

"But you don't understand! I don't mean to hurt him - I just... I say the wrong thing or I do the wrong thing...! I just want to be his friend and do what I can to cheer him up and... and I can't believe that you're taking his side over this!"

"Harry," Remus began soothingly, "we're not taking anyone's side and you are always our greatest priority, but we would like to understand. Maybe that way we can help clear up all of this mess."

"What did he say about me?" Harry asked forlornly, pulling the sleeve of his jumper over his thumb and tugging it with his teeth.

"He said he's in love with you, and he must at least think he is because he was under the influence of Sincerity Potion at the time..."

"Really? Mine didn't work..."

"I'm surprised anyone's did. The thing is, though, Harry, that he told us that you and Gavin have decided not to call it a day, and we've been wondering what made you decide that."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, to shield himself from the mix of worry and impatience; "Because I like Gavin. I really like him, and he knows what he did was wrong - it was stupid and it was wrong, but it was a mistake. All he wanted to do was cheer up McKnight and she... well, she y'know... she started it and he just didn't want to be rude or make things worse for her. He's a really nice person - he is - and he cares about me a lot. His best friend's dad died from one of the attacks and he's really scared of losing everyone he cares about... I know how he feels and I can't abandon him now. I couldn't, even if I wanted to."

Remus gave Sirius a glance that seemed to carry rather a lot of meaning, but he couldn't decipher what it was.

"So what about the Malfoy kid?" Sirius asked. "He reckons you've been acting like you aren't quite that decided. Like you think you might prefer to be seeing him."

"I don't know... I never meant to make things this complicated! I do care about him... I have wondered if...if I could..." he trailed off pathetically.

"And what were your conclusions?" Remus asked, moving to a more comfortable position.

"No."

"NO?" Sirius echoed, looking at Remus as if expecting him to decode the comment.

"I just... I'm so confused about everything! I like Draco... I really, really care about him - in some ways more than I do about Gavin, but... it's different. I wanted to, though... I wished so hard that I could be... that I could feel the way he does, but..."

"You can't?"

"Well, he's blond..."

"You're basing your entire conclusion on the fact that he's fucking blond? You're worse than I fucking was!"

"Not entirely! But I... I can't imagine...y'know..." he could feel himself blushing, and blushing very deep red.

"Oh..." Remus was blushing too, now.

Sirius gave an almighty huff and declared, "Look, even I know that's not everything! You're fifteen! You don't have to worry about what at your age."

"Don't be so patronizing, Sirius! I don't remember you feeling the need to wait for marriage before you started thinking along these lines."

Harry stared at him with a look of sheer shock on his face, "You were married?" he asked in disbelief.

"Fuck, no!" Sirius replied with an equally shocked look, "Moony's just trying to shut me up."

"Look, Harry, I'll be honest with you; I can tell you like Gavin very much, and we won't tell you to stop seeing him, but be careful. Make sure you know what you really want before you allow things to become too serious - in any sense - and don't forget that we are here. I hate the idea of you trying struggle through all this on your own, so please do talk to us if you need to."

"I know - and I will, but..."

"Draco doesn't seem to be quite as bad as I anticipated, I'll admit that - and I should be the first to avoid prejudice - and he clearly does think very much of you, so be careful with him, too. He has a lot on his plate just now and he could do with a friend he can feel comfortable with."

"I know he has... and sometimes we are. We can be really close, y'know?" Harry said, his eyes brightening as he thought of the hours they had spent studying Draco's condition, or sitting on the South Tower watching unicorns, "I like it when we're like that... I like it a lot."

"You managed to forget his birthday, though," Sirius said, raising an eyebrow.

"His bir - his birthday! Oh no! I did forget... Damn! I am so useless!"

"Calm down, Harry!" Remus said gently, giving his wrist a squeeze.

"But I forgot his birthday! We had an argument on his birthday! I can't believe that I was so thick!"

"Calm down, we can make up for it," Remus said again. "Just trust me, this time tomorrow everything will be alright."

~*~

Draco looked at the small piece of paper in his hands and frowned, wondering what they wanted.

'Draco,

Please come over to the cottage this evening before dinner. You will not need your notes.

Remus.'

It was nearly half past four already and he had nothing better to do in the mean time, so he gave in to his curiosity and followed the instructions. His discussion the previous day had left him feeling slightly better, as though he had had a large weight removed from his chest. He liked Lupin; even Black hadn't been quite as bad the previous day - even if he was as insane as ever. He was surprised that they had listened, surprised that they hadn't dismissed everything he had said and gone straight to Dumbledore to have him banned from seeing Harry. It was a relief. He was sick of having no one to tell about his feelings. There was no point in telling Harry, because Harry didn't seem to care - and it was embarrassing to keep telling him; it made him feel desperate and pathetic. He didn't need that on top of the misery of having to deal with Harry's idiotic behaviour. Who else was there to tell? Nobody, because even if his housemates had known of the situation he would have never told them a word. They weren't trustworthy enough. It would all go back to his father in the next post. He had already had to explain his social withdrawal, and was fortunate that his father had accepted boredom as an excuse. He thought that perhaps now he had spoken to them Lupin and Black would listen again. In fact, he was desperate for them to.

The cottage looked cosy and warm as he walked towards it from the castle. The small, diamond-paned windows glowed welcomingly and he thought that he may be beginning to see the attraction of the tiny little house - even if he didn't think he could bear living there. He knocked on the door but gave a step back when it was opened; behind it stood Harry himself.

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

"I live here," Harry replied. "Come in, it's freezing out there."

Draco hesitated, not sure whether he could face being in the same room as Harry for any length of time before he was reduced to hitting him. "What's going on?"

"Draco?" Lupin's voice asked from the living room, a moment before he appeared himself, "I'm glad you made it, come inside, you must be frozen!"

He gave Harry one last look, colder even than the November weather, before slipping past him and into the warmth of the living room. The fire was blazing merrily, giving an almost Yule-like feel, and Black and Lupin both stood near the coffee table, slightly nervous looks on their faces. It was only then that he noticed the table was laid out with various kinds of snacks - from cakes to batbites - and at one end sat three parcels of varying size, each decorated neatly and understatedly in green.

"What's all this?" he asked, carefully, pointing at the table.

"I missed your birthday," Harry said from behind him. "We thought you might like to have a kind of tea party to make up for it..."

"I haven't had a birthday party since I was ten."

"Then it's been far too long," Lupin said, smiling in that gently reassuring way he had.

"Um... here," Harry said, moving towards him and picking up a parcel, which he then thrusted into Draco's hands, before stepping back and pushing his glasses up his nose self-consciously. It was a soft parcel, malleable to the touch, and Draco was torn between ripping off the paper and throwing back into the Gryffindor's face.

"Open it," the other boy urged, sounding a little worried, as if that was exactly what he expected of him. Draco decided to open it, just to prove him wrong.

He pulled open one end and reached inside. His fingers landed upon something soft, which felt like wool - like angora or something equally supple. He removed it from the paper and held it up. It was a jumper, black with a tiny fire embroidered on one side of the chest. The fire was moving, flickering as it were real. Clearly, Harry had put some thought into what to buy him.

"Thank you," he said stiffly, giving the other boy a small nod.

"Do you like it?" he asked hopefully. "I think it's really cool - did you see that flame moving?"

"Yes. Thank you," he said again, without changing his tone. What do you expect, Harry? An award?

"Er - this is from me, it's nothing much, but I thought you might be interested..." Lupin told him, now holding out his own present. It was quite clearly a book; as it turned out, he appeared to have thought along the same lines as Harry. The book was an encyclopaedia of known pyroclastics and associated elementalists. Draco thanked Lupin far more warmly than he had Harry, and hoped he had made his point clearly enough.

The final present was, of course, from Black. He wasn't sure what Black had been thinking when he bought the present, but beneath the shimmering green wrapping was a carved wooden box, the top set with a large green stone. Rolled up inside the box, however, was what appeared to be a Muggle magazine - the people on the covers weren't moving, at any rate, for which, considering the picture, Draco was rather glad.

"What's 'Gay Times'?" he asked, holding it up for closer inspection. He just caught Lupin giving Black a look that suggested he may well find himself wolf food at the next full moon. Black was grinning.

"You said you were into Muggle stuff - I didn't think you'd like Loaded very much..."

"Wait - this is-! Black, you're insane!" Draco laughed incredulously.

"Sirius!" Harry gasped, looking over the blond boy's shoulder, "You bought my friend porn!"

"Don't be stupid, that's not porn! That's no worse than the magazines I bet half the girls in your House are reading."

"Dear God, will you look at that!"

"There's an article here on the best S & M clubs in London!"

"Harry, do you even know what that is?" Draco smirked, looking at him doubtfully.

"Er..." Harry looked up at his guardians who also seemed to be waiting for his response and muttered, "Maybe..."

Lupin shook his head and wandered out into the kitchen, telling Black to follow, now.

"I think Black's going to have a lecture," Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, Moony's alright," Harry grinned. "He'll just make him wash up, later."

"Yes, I'm sure he will..."

"Look, Drac," Harry said, moving round so they were more or less facing each other, "I wanted to say sorry - again. I behaved like a total dickhead and you didn't deserve it. I...well, I care about you a lot and I'd never deliberately hurt your feelings. You do know that, don't you?"

"I thought I did."

"Well you were right. I'm sorry. I honestly, truly am."

"You can't use me, Harry."

"I wouldn't do that!" the other boy insisted earnestly. "I'm just a stupid prat and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not used to this, and I keep on making an idiot of myself, but I don't want you to stop being my friend. I'll learn, I promise."

Draco took a deep breath and sighed, "Okay. Fine."

"So we're friends again?" Harry asked hopefully, staring at him with those wide, broken-glass eyes.

"Oh alright," Draco said, giving him a reluctant smile. A second later he found himself with arms full of Harry, as he was hugged extremely tightly. He staggered a little under the sudden weight, hesitated for a moment, and then hugged him back. "You're getting soppy on me, Potter," he said, half-heartedly.

"I know," the other boy replied, pulling back and looking at him again as if he wanted to add something else. Draco never found out what it was, for at that moment Professor McGonagall's face appeared in the fireplace.

"Remus?" she said, before she realised that the two boys were staring back at her in surprise.

"He's in the kitchen, Professor," Harry told her. She looked pale and agitated and without checking he shouted, "Remus! Remus, Professor McGonagall wants to speak to you!"

The kitchen door flew open and Remus appeared, closely followed by Sirius, a moderately sized chocolate cake in one hand.

"Minerva? What's the matter?" he asked, seeing her face and instantly looking equally concerned.

"Remus, Sirius, I thought you should know. They have just finished clearing the area of St. Mungo's destroyed during the attack. They assumed that Peter Pettigrew was trapped in the rubble but they have run out of places to look. His body has not been found. He is missing."

The plate and the chocolate cake both smashed onto the floor.

19