When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ XII:i

Dance into the Fire

"In hope and desperation I find my only light..."Funeral for a Friend

Harry chewed his nails as Sirius paced the room in front of him. Dumbledore steepled his fingers at the large wooden desk and Fawkes sat on his perch, observing the scene with a peculiar knowingness.

"Where the fuck is he?" Sirius growled, stopping in his pacing and then striding towards the door, only to turn on his heel again and punch both fists into the air in frustration.

"I assume from your tone that you refer to me?" Snape sneered, appearing in the room immediately behind him, his lips thinner than McGonagall's.

Remus slipped in behind him and closed the door. "Perhaps we should save the fighting until later," he said, casting Sirius a significant look and moving over to stand next to Harry. "Are you alright," he whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry shook his head, worriedly. "He's going to kill him, Moony," he said, clasping onto his godfather's sleeve with a jittery desperation, "I know he will. He's going to kill him for what he did at the game..."

"It's alright, Harry, we don't have to panic yet. He has kept Draco alive this long, I don't think he's ready to kill him just now."

"But he's shamed him, this time! You know what Lucius Malfoy's like, don't you? You know he doesn't care about Draco! What if-"

"Calm down, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "this is but a battle in the war and, as with any conflict, hostages can be liberated with careful negotiation."

"Hitler didn't think so."

"Harry," Remus said firmly, "just trust us. Draco is safe for now."

"How can you think that? Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater who wants to feed him to Voldemort, has just stormed into the school and taken him back to Malfoy Manor! At least we think it's Malfoy Manor. It could be bloody anywhere!"

"You will watch your language, Potter."

"You will stop picking on my godson, Snape."

"You really ought to learn something about discipline, Black. We wouldn't want young Harry to end up as much of a failure as his godfather, would we?"

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore interrupted, an impatient look upon his aged face.

Remus stepped nearer and placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, "We know how frightening this must be for you, but for the time being the best thing we can do for Draco is cause no more ripples. From what I hear - "

"No, you don't know how frightening this is! You don't understand! Malfoy saw us all mucking around together! He must realise that we're friends - what if he takes Draco to Voldemort to try and get information out of him and then sucks out his Life and then - "

Remus reached out and pulled him against his chest in a hug, resting his chin on top of the boy's head, and casting Sirius a pained look. "Harry, it's okay, calm down, we'll do whatever we can, alright?"

"I don't want him to die, Moony," Harry whispered back, his voice cracking.

"He won't die, Harry, we won't let that happen..."

"Don't you feel it is a little dishonest to make promises to the boy that you might fail to keep?" Snape asked coldly.

"You shut your mouth!" Sirius ordered, moving over to stand by Remus and Harry, almost as if trying to shield the boy from Snape's words. "We're going to do whatever we can. And we're not going to let the poor little fucker die."

"So what do you plan to do?" Snape demanded. "Attempt a break-in at the Manor? I can tell you now that you'll be dead before you get within five hundred yards of the gates."

"We'll think of something," Remus replied, more to Harry than to Snape. "You're forgetting who we are, Severus."

"On the contrary, it is precisely that knowledge which promotes my concern."

"So, are you planning on doing something? He's your fucking student, after all."

"And you appear to be his surrogate parents."

"Listen to me, you bastard, you aren't getting out of this," Sirius growled, striding over and standing so close to Snape that their noses were practically touching, bearing down on the other man despite their equal height, "It's only your fucking fault he got in unnoticed in the first place. If the wards here we the way they used to be - before they were fucking relaxed so your snivelling arse wouldn't get stunned any time you touched something -"

"Sirius, the wards are not weakened by or for Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "Death Eater or not, Lucius Malfoy is Draco's father. He is well within his right to remove him from the school at any time he should so choose."

"But-"

"Harry, some times the best course of attack is to do nothing. I suspect that Lucius Malfoy will be anticipating the arrival of the Cavalry; to adhere to his apparent plans would be foolish and inexcusable on our part."

"We can't leave Draco there!"

"And we shall not. But we must not act too soon. You must trust our judgment and allow us to make plans that have some genuine potential of reaching their fruition. Charging in with curses blazing will only endanger Draco further."

~*~

Draco had never been more afraid in all of his days. They had been back at the Manor for hours and he had not seen his father at all. They had apparated back to Wiltshire from the school gate, and Lucius has said nothing to him except, "Go to your room." This was not a punishment, this was the warning alarm. It would only be a matter of time. Lucius Malfoy favoured psychological rather than physical torture, but he was not averse to the latter by any means. On the contrary, he preferred to combine them in chillingly inventive ways. Forcing an eleven year old to kill his pet labrador being one of them. Now, they were playing a waiting game, allowing Draco to torture himself with the fear of what would happen. The physical suffering could come later.

It was at dinnertime that Draco first began to piece together his father's intentions. He was locked into his room with no way of leaving and a House Elf delivered him a tray holding a glass of water and a meal - a perfectly pleasant looking meal, complete with garnish of salad. A risotto. It looked stunningly appetising, except for one thing - it was mixed in with an inordinate quantity of tuna. Tuna, as they had discovered during Draco's early childhood, disagreed with him. It disagreed with him so severely that he had been taken to hospital for fear that his screams of agony were due to a burst appendix. In fact they had been closer to food poisoning; his tongue had swollen and he had found it difficult to breathe, and then he had begun vomiting. Draco had not eaten the stuff since. His mother had ordered that it be banned from the house, lest he should somehow come into contact with it again. It had been like Sleeping Beauty and the spinning wheel.

Draco sat at his desk for several minutes, staring at the plate and willing it to be anything else, until the very smell made him nauseous and he had to cover it over and bury his face in his pillow to escape it. He curled up on his bed, knowing that this was the start of something truly horrific and that he had no choice but to see it through. He father would not be offering any alternatives.

~*~

Harry strode along the corridor driven in equal parts by anger, frustration and extreme urgency. If the adults, the people who were meant to be protecting them, would do nothing then they'd do it themselves. They'd done it before - they'd faced eighteen-foot Acromantulas and undead Dark Lords together, hadn't they? - they could deal with the arrogant, jumped up, pseudo-aristocratic bastard that was Lucius Malfoy. And when Harry got his hands on him -

"Harry! Harry slow down!"

Ah, yes, he'd almost forgotten that Hermione was scurrying along behind him, clutching armfuls of texts that he really wanted to tell her would give her a bad back if she didn't start limiting herself to the ones she actually needed and leave behind the ones that were merely affectations, and intermittently imploring him to 'slow down', 'be sensible', 'tell me what happened, Harry!'. He had, at some point, opted to ignore her, fully aware that she would follow him wittering all the way to the hospital wing where he would only have to say everything once.

The wooden door to the wing slammed back against the wall as he entered, and he was quite satisfied with the bang that nearly made Marmaduke drop the hideous concoction he was holding. Madam Pomfrey hurried out of her office, obviously assuming someone was being rushed in to be tended to, and looked vaguely bemused to see Harry stride up to Ron's bed the very picture of health.

"Mr Potter, what one Earth is going on?" she demanded, aghast. "You can't just storm in here like that, making all sorts of racket and disturbing the patients - "

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied, looking as apologetic as he could, "but it's really important that I talk to Ron and, well... he's the only person here, isn't he? So if you could just leave us alone, that would be really good. Thanks."

Madam Pomfrey stared at him in abject disbelief. "Mr Potter, I don't know where you got the idea that you may come into my hospital ward all curses aflaring like this, but -"

"I know, Madam Pomfrey, and I'm very sorry, but I really, really, really need to talk to Ron," he said very firmly, "Right now."

Madam Pomfrey gaped at them, staring from Harry to Ron to a very pink Hermione, and finally began to splutter, "Well, I should have a note from Professor McGonagall... she should have... I..."

"We're really sorry, there wasn't time, you see," Hermione said earnestly, glancing at Harry as if she was going to take his payment in blood, later, "but if you wanted to go and ask Professor Dumbledore or Professor Black I'm sure they'd agree and explain everything."

Madam Pomfrey stood and gave a snort like an angry bull, her hands fisted on her hips, and said, "Well, I think I will. I won't have students storming in here without proper reason! First parents, now students! I don't know what's to become of this place! There was a time when the only person who told me when they would or wouldn't be in was the headmaster - now look at the place!"

Harry opened his mouth to say that they did have proper reason, thank you very much, and that Lucius Malfoy didn't count as a parent in his book, but promptly shut it when Hermione stood on his foot and ground her heel into his toes. He gave a small whimper of pain and shoved her off with an irritated look.

"Sorry to be so rude, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione continued, "We really didn't mean to be - we're just in such a terrible hurry to speak to Ron..."

Madam Pomfrey gave her a slightly less furious look before muttering, "Well, we shall see about this," and striding right out of the room, and slamming the door shut behind her, calling, "Marmaduke, you're in charge!"

Marmaduke promptly responded by shutting himself in the office.

"What are you, a man or a mouse?" Ron called after him, "Squeak up!"

"Very funny," Harry muttered, before launching into a double-quick tirade about what had happened in Dumbledore's office.

"They're not going to do anything?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Sirius and Remus wanted to but Dumbledore thinks it's what Malfoy wants them to do, so they're just going to leave him there for that nutcase to do whatever he wants with him! He could kill him! He could let Voldemort have his life right now if he wanted to - "

"He wouldn't," Hermione said uncertainly, "he wouldn't do that, surely?"

"He bloody would," Ron said, scowling. "I can't believe Dumbledore's refusing to do anything. I really thought he was okay..."

"I don't know what he thinks he's playing at, but he won't. He said so. And Sirius and Remus say we have to wait, too - but we can't! We don't have the time to wait!"

Ron gave a loud huff and flung back his blankets, "And to think I thought this was going to be a quiet year..." he muttered.

"Ron, what are you doing? Get back in!" Hermione ordered, trying to pull the blankets back over him.

"Oh get off, 'Mione, you know we've got to do something. Even if the bloke's a prat half the time, we've got the obligation now," Ron sighed impatiently, gesturing to his bruised face.

"The only obligation you have is getting better!" she argued.

"I'm bloody fine, get off, woman!" Ron replied, "Stop fussing - you're worse than Pomfrey."

"I just want you to be alright before we start gallivanting off after the villain, this time..." she said, in what Harry deemed a border-line 'coochy-coo' voice and reached up to touch his face, where it was still purple, "I thought you were about to die once already this year."

Ron blushed and clasped her hand in his, "Were you worried?" he asked bashfully.

"Terrified..."

"Ahh, very sweet," Harry interrupted sarcastically, "Can you just get dressed if you're getting dressed before I end up in here from being made sick by you two?"

They moved apart very rapidly and Ron stood up, "Get outside, then," he said, "I'll only be a minute."

A couple of minutes later they were already on their way back to the common room, rabbiting on in harsh whispers about what they ought to do and what they might stand a chance of getting away with, taking routes that they had found through the Marauders' Map to avoid any unpleasant meetings with Madam Pomfrey.

"We need a route in," Harry said, "that's all there is to it. We have to find a way in to get him out."

"That's all well and good, Harry, but we aren't talking about using the tunnel to get into Hogsmeade - we're talking about the house of one of the top Death Eaters!" Hermione said worriedly.

"We'd be alright if we had Houdini, then," Ron muttered.

"It'd be alright if we had the Marauders," Harry replied, his shoulders slumping, "but the two we have won't help."

"Wait!" Ron said suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"If we can't have Houdini and we can't have the Marauders, who else is there? What's the next best thing?"

Harry and Hermione stared at each other with dawning realisation, "Oh my God! You're right! Come on!"

They began to sprint towards the tower, nearly crashing into the portrait of the Fat Lady in the Pink Dress in their hurry.

"Now, now, dears," she said irritably, "what's all the rush?"

"Oh CABAGES, you old bat!"

The Fat Lady scowled at them, "You children don't have any manners, these days - "

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it, will you?" Ron tutted.

She gave him a narrow-eyed look and appeared about to say no, when she was forced aside by Neville falling out of the hole behind.

"Whoops - sorry Hermione!" he said, blushing and clambering up from her feet.

"Don't worry, Neville," called over her shoulder as they barged past, leaving Neville to deal with an irate portrait.

They raced into the room, looking round for the Twins, but wherever they were, it wasn't the common room. Ron volunteered to run upstairs to check their dorm while Hermione disposed of her books and Harry asked Lee Jordan if he'd seen them.

"Nah, you know them," Lee shrugged, "probably off doing 'secret business' or something; I wouldn't eat anything for the next three days if I were you. You might end up as a slug or something... What's the hurry, anyway? You lot ain't off chasing You-Know-Who again, are ya?" He laughed as if he expected them to join in, and promptly stopped when they didn't. "Oh bloody hell you lot! Look, what d'you expect Fred and George to do? Prank him to death with rubber chicken wands? Just leave this shit to the grown ups for a change! You've only got a couple of years left before they'll let you take on all the responsibility you want anyway - make the most of it. "

"I've never had a time when I wasn't responsible for it," Harry told him, "but that's nothing to do with it anyway, we're doing something entirely dif - Ron? Not there?"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head and panting for breath as he made his was back over to them, "got an... idea... though..." he said between breaths, "C'mon."

"Off again, are we?" the Fat Lady called after them as they burst out into the corridor. "I hope you'll remember your manners next time!"

"Oh, shove off!"

They left the Fat Lady squawking indignantly and dived into the alcove half way up the corridor. Ron produced the Marauders' Map from his pocket and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am..." He stopped in the middle of his sentence, his mouth hanging open.

They stared at it in alarm as Mr Moony's very familiar handwriting swept the words, "You're never up to any good..." across the page.

It was quickly followed by, "Next generation, my honourable friend!" in Wormtail's minute hand and then by Mr Prongs' slashed, italicised one.

"Wouldn't wish it any different, Moony, old chap!"

"Wet blanket!" Mr Padfoot's spider-in-ink scrawl teased.

"Oh, but I never said I was complaining..."

The three of them stared in disbelief at the tatty sheet of paper, now displaying blueprints of the school and hundreds of tiny labelled dots, clustered in various areas. "Well it's never done that before."

"Well... it called Professor Snape some dreadful names..."

"It called Snape some accurate names!"

"Does it matter? Where are the Twins?"

They studied the sheet between them, getting in each other's way and impatiently trying to see through errant strands of Hermione's hair.

"There!" Harry said suddenly, pointing to a room halfway up one of the sub-towers on the West Tower's side, "There they are!"

Ron rolled up the parchment and they sprinted off down the corridor to the other side of the school.

There was a very loud, very peculiar hiss as they started up the final staircase towards the room the Twins were in. Above them there was a very sudden, very total silence, punctuated by the sharp plink of something metal rolling onto flagstones. Ron reached the door first and pounded on it with his fist. "Fred!" he yelled, "Fred, George open the bloody door!"

There were a few urgent whispers from inside the room and Harry distinctly made out the word, 'Ronniekins' and possibly the word 'hide'. What they were hiding he wasn't sure he wanted to know as long as whatever it was they hurried up about it. A few moments later the door was opened a crack and a hazel-green eye surrounded by bright orange eyelashes and almost hidden by an equally vibrant fringe peered out.

"What?"

"George, let us in - we need to talk to you, it's really important!"

"For God's sake, Ronniekins - I'm Fred, alright?"

"Same thing, just let us in."

"Wait there."

The door shut again and they waited impatiently outside, each looking to the others nervously. It was a couple more minutes before it opened again and they were allowed into a room furnished with a couple of tables, two armchairs and a large and unusual shaped object hidden underneath what looked like an old curtain. The look they received when they stared at it with interest gave them enough reason to believe asking about it was unwise.

"So what is it?" George asked, leaning against the windowsill and folding his arms, the last of the day's light spilling over his shoulders and reducing him to a silhouette. "Don't tell us you want some canary creams to feed the Slytherins because they were harsh to Malfoy - "

"--You're turning into a right bunch of free-love do-gooders, you are."

"It's worse than that," Harry explained, "no amount of canary creams is going to sort this out."

Fred cast George an interested look and moved nearer, "We're listening."

"Lucius Malfoy came to the school today, and took Draco back to - well, we assume back to Malfoy Manor - and we need to get him back."

"Missing him already?" Fred asked, smirking.

"Lucius Malfoy might kill him," Hermione said sharply. "This is an obligation, not an option."

"What?" George asked, moving away from the window and closer to the rest of them, "Why would he kill his own son - ?"

" - Dragon Boy's his pride and joy - "

" - he's not going to kill him just for managing to not drop Ron when he fell on him - "

" - that would be just plain stupid."

"Look, it's really complicated, but Draco and I have been friends since the start of term, his father's working with Voldemort - " there was a universal wince at the name "- and he's basically going to use Draco as part of some ritual, and me too if he can get his hands on me, and it'll mean we'll die. Now he's got Draco at home he could do the spell any time he wanted, so we have to get him back. Now."

Both older boys stared at him with looks of 'Could you please repeat the question?' before George finally asked, "Are you winding us up?"

"I wish."

"Look," Hermione began, taking the deep breath that invariably signified a lecture or a tantrum, "the fact of the matter is that Draco Malfoy saved Ron's life, and it's our responsibility to save his. He's in the hands of two of the most evil people we know of and there are absolutely no two-ways about it: no one else will help, so we have to. And that means finding a way into the manor. Now, we know you can help us, and if you love your brother at all you'll do whatever you can, because if it wasn't for Malfoy he wouldn't be here at all."

"Don't you use me as blackmail material!" Ron protested.

"Well," Harry said shrugging, "if you don't think you can manage it..."

George stared at them thoughtfully for a moment before leaning over and whispering to his twin. Fred nodded and grinned.

"A challenge!" he declared, imitating Sir Cadogan quite well, "Why, dost thou doubt us, mangy beast?"

"Either you will or you won't..."

"Honourable Knights ever decline a challenge, you lily-livered rogues!" George replied, wielding a fake sword, which he promptly clashed with Fred's imaginary blade. "Ching! No pun intended on the Lily front, by the way..."

"Great," Harry said, starting to wonder if this was such a good idea after all, as two seventeen year olds danced across the room in an imaginary sword fight. "So, is there a plan? What do we do?"

"Well that's obvious," George snorted, standing still for a moment.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, floo."

He jabbed his imaginary sword at his twin, who promptly fell to the floor behind an armchair wailing, "A hit! A hit!"

"Floo? You've got to be sodding joking!" Ron said, looking at them much the same as Harry was.

"No," Fred told him smugly, "absolutely true - "

"- place that size has probably got more fire places than Hagrid's got fleas - "

"How rude!" Hermione gasped indignantly.

"How true..." Ron muttered under his breath. Hagrid was great, but you couldn't help feeling a little itchy when he was too close; it was probably to do with all the weird animals he insisted on keeping around the place. And that included Fang.

"It's far too much trouble to have an entire network re-routed because of Malfoy's whims - " the Twins continued, ignoring her entirely.

"- and warding them's more trouble than it's worth because you have to be dead careful not to ward a block into the network - "

" - instead of just an exit porthole block."

"Right," Harry nodded, trying very hard to take all this unexpected information in.

"So basically, no matter what Lucie's 'donating' - "

" - the chances are his not-so-humble abode is riddled with connections - "

" - that aren't properly closed down - "

" - couple of invitation wards, maybe - "

" - which technically you can probably breach -"

" - cause this new best mate of yours is probably sitting there thinking - "

" - 'Oh, Harry! - "

" - Where is my great and speccy-faced hero? - "

" - Come rescue me on you charging Firebolt!' - "

"That sounds really gay..."

"Oh come on - think who we're on about, here!"

"Point..."

"Er," Harry interrupted, blushing, "So we should just be able to get through okay?"

"Well, apart from finding a fireplace that isn't in the school - "

" - now this place does have good protection - "

" - internal only - "

" - basic but effective - "

"But Sirius spoke to Harry through the Gryffindor fireplace..."

"Different system. Works basically the same, but you can't travel through a communifloo -"

" - has to be a portafloo - "

" - even though you can talk through a portafloo -"

" - and then you just have to make sure you don't come zooming out in the middle of Malfoy's study - "

" - while he's having tea with You-Know-Who."

"Well, how do I do that?" Harry asked worriedly. Landing in Lucius Malfoy's private rooms was the very last thing he'd ever need.

"Well, let's have a think - now, I know this concept might be a bit hard for you -"

" - having seen you Floo and everything - "

" - but in a very, very clear voice you just say - "

" - 'Draco Malfoy's bedroom, Malfoy Manor'."

"Quite a concept that, Harry - "

" - you sure you can manage it?"

"I'll be fine," Harry said determinedly, turning and heading for the door.

"Harry? You're not going to go now, are you?" Hermione asked anxiously, grasping at his arm.

"There's no time to waste, I have to see if he's okay."

"Where exactly do you think you'll floo from?"

"The cottage, of course!"

"Harry, the cottage won't work. If it's on the school's internal floo it won't be able to access external floos will it?"

"The girl's got a point, Harry, mate," George nodded, giving a sigh.

"Well, there has to be somewhere!"

"There is," Fred grinned, "it's called the Shrieking Shack."

"That rotten old shed?" Ron grimaced, "You don't reckon they ever stuck a floo link in there, do you?"

"It wasn't always that derelict - "

" - used to be a really nice place, according to Rosmerta - "

" - she says she saw pictures of it when she was a kid - "

" - and always wanted to live in a house just like it."

"Then I'll go to the shack."

"How do you two know all this?" Ron demanded suspiciously.

"We could tell you," George said, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully -

" - but then we'd have to tell mum about the time we caught you - "

" - introducing Rosie Palm and her five daughters - "

" - to one of her old pictures of Gilderoy Lockhart."

"What?" Ron virtually squealed in horror, "That's never happened! Ever!"

"Ah, well, you see -"

" - you know that - "

" - and we know that - "

" - but mum's quite gullible really, isn't she?"

Hermione stared at them aghast, "That is positively disgusting!"

"S'alright, Hermione," Fred winked confidentially, "we promise not to tell her about the time we caught him and Rosie with the picture of you."

Fred promptly ducked behind George at the look on Ron's face, and George dived behind a chair. Ron dived over the top of it and a plethora of thuds, laughs and groans ensued. Hermione merely stood in the middle of the room, both hands clasped over her mouth in apparent horror, her cheeks the deepest crimson. Harry took his chance and slipped out of the room.

He knew what he had to do - straight to the dorm for his invisibility cloak and then out to the shack to check on Draco. His stomach churned with thoughts of what might be happening to him, whether he was going to find that his efforts had been wasted and Draco had already been... It didn't bear thinking about. Harry almost felt as though worrying about it was akin to willing it to happen, and he certainly didn't want that, either. A few months ago he wouldn't have cared about this. He would have been as scandalised as the rest of the school at the news of That Malfoy Bastard being dragged off by his father, possibly to be sacrificed for Voldemort, but he probably would have thought it served him right. Didn't some poet say that children could be cruel? Excessively cruel... Yes, that was very true. All of those things they had done to each other were such a waste of effort when it just meant they'd had far more building to do on the pathetic foundations they had.

"'Arry!"

Harry stopped and whirled around, surprised to hear Gavin's voice at the end of the corridor. The other boy was running towards him, his cheeks red and his dark eyebrows knitted into a worried frown.

"God, I'm so glad I foun' you!" he said, taking a few deep gulps of air and flinging his arms around him, without a care for who might see if they stepped into the corridor. "There's been bloody rumours goin' roun' - Draco Malfoy's dad comin' t' the school an' takin' 'im 'ome and someone were sayin' tha' you an' 'im were 'avin a duel and they all know you stopp'd fightin' an ev'rythin' - so they said it were you tryin' t' save Malfoy from 'is dad an' I been doin' my soddin' nut tryin' t' find you...!"

Harry squeezed him back and rested his head against the other boy's shoulder; it felt solid and reassuring and it felt so wonderful to have someone who cared like that, someone to hug him and worry about him for reasons other than personal responsibility.

"'Arry?" Gavin said gently, stroking the back of his neck with his thumb, "'Arry, what's 'appened? Is it true? D'you duel wi' Malfoy's dad?"

"Not this time," Harry sighed, "but one day I'm going blast that man's brains into the middle of next week."

"Thank God... What're you up to, anyway?" Gavin asked, leaning back a little and looking down at him slightly suspiciously.

"Nothing..." Harry lied, knowing he was about as convincing as a novelty Groucho Marx disguise.

"Oh, right," Gavin said knowingly, nodding to himself, "I see now; you're gonna go on a rescue mission, aren' you?"

Harry opened his mouth to deny it, only to have one of Gavin's palms laid gently across it.

"Shh a minute, lemme speak. Now, I know you, 'Arry. I know wha' you're like an' I know that you've probably got your 'eart set on this, an' I won' try an' stop you. But if you do this I'm coming wi' you. I am not, absolutely not goin' t' let you do this alone, see? I couldn' f'give myself if somethin' 'appened t' you an' I didn' stop you from goin'... so I'm comin' wi' you. 'Cause at least I might be able to 'elp, then..."

"Gavin, you can't! This could be really dangerous - what if something happens to you? Do you think I could forgive myself either?"

"'Arry, I can' let you do this..."

"Look, neither can I - I'll have Ron and Hermione to help, you don't have to worry about me - "

"'Arry, I worry 'bout you all the bloody time! Never knowin' what sort of plot there is t' have you done away with or who you can trust! Frighten's the life outta me t'think that there are people in this school prob'ly writing 'ome t' mam and dad every night tellin' 'em what you been doin' -"

"There is, her name's Ginny," Harry said, trying to distract him. "And that's the scariest thing I can think of..."

"Oh, jus' be serious for a minute, please!" Gavin begged, gripping both or his shoulders and gazing at him with fearful brown eyes, "'I can't let you do this. Not without me. I'm meant to be your boyfrien' ain't I? I'm meant to be protectin' you..."

"You don't have to do that - I can look after myself, I promise."

"Don' promise, jus' don' stop me helpin' you - I need t' do this... I wan' to be involved because I know that this is goin' t' be important an' it means a lot t'you... If I can't be there when you need me most what kinda boyfrien's that make me?"

"Gavin, I really, really appreciate what you're trying to do, but firstly, I've dealt with Voldemort himself so many times - I can handle this - really. Secondly, I don't want people to realise - least of all Malfoy - that you and I are... y'know... together. It'd make you a target... Thirdly, you don't have to protect me - from anyone. I know it's just how you are," Harry said, rubbing the older boy's back soothingly, "you're lovely and you want to look after me and that's really, really great - it makes me feel... y'know... loved - but you're not going out with a girl, you're going out with me. The part that is Just Harry and the part that isn't... and the part that isn't can manage enough for Just Harry, too."

Gavin gave him a small smile and stroked his cheek, "Sounds like I'm goin' out wi' Dr Jekyll an' Mr Hyde..."

"No, just me..."

"Wouldn' 'ave it any other way..."

Some part of Harry's brain was tutting impatiently and lecturing him on the risks of kissing one's boyfriend in the middle of a school corridor, and how this did not improve the chances of him avoiding target status. Harry was just about to acquiesce when a voice cried, "Oh my God!" from the end of the corridor. Both boys pulled away quickly and turned to see whose voice it was, fearing the worst.

"Yes, it's horrible and stuff, but you learn to ignore it after a bit," Ron said, shoving a slack-jawed Twin out of his way. "Harry, you prat, I don't know what you think you're planning on doing, but you won't be doing it without the floo powder, you great pillock."

"Ron Weasley, ladies and gentlemen - "

" - International Master of Secrecy."

"Piss off."

"Language Ronniekins - "

" - mummy wouldn't want to hear you speaking like that, now, would she?"

"Harry," Hermione said, impatiently breaking away from the three squabbling redheads and walking over to Harry and Gavin, both of whom were standing there looking rather pink, "you - " she cast Gavin an uncomfortable look, "you can't just run off and do this without planning it first, this could be very dangerous - "

"I were tryin' t' tell 'im that!" Gavin told her, sounding desperately glad to have someone agreeing with him. "Tell 'im, 'Ermione - it's mad t' go there on 'is own. 'E won' lemme go with 'im..."

"What?" Ron demanded, turning and staring at him. "You know about this?"

"O' course I do - whole school's talkin' 'bout it. An' I know 'im, an' all - know wha' 'es like an' there's no 'ope in 'ell of stoppin' 'im, an' there's no way in 'ell I'm lettin' 'im go on 'is own!"

"Gav..."

"No, love!"

"'Love'? How the fuck - "

" - did we not notice this, you soft bastards?"

Ron looked at them like they were idiots, "Yeah, how didn't you notice?"

"You lot, just stop, will you! You can argue about me another time - at the moment we're meant to be helping Draco, okay?" Harry said impatiently, looking around at each of them, "So what do we do?"

~*~

Remus walked in the back door of the cottage rubbing his brow and headed straight for the kettle. Sirius followed, slamming the door so loudly it made Remus flinch, and wrenching a chair out from under the table so harshly that it swung back and clanged hard against the metal bucket near the fireplace.

"I hate feeling fucking useless!" Sirius growled, banging the table with his fist before resting his head in his hands, his no-longer-quite-short hair spilling though his fingers.

"We're not, Paddy, we're just biding our time, that's all," Remus told him soothingly, sitting down on the chair to his right.

"We don't have fucking time!" Sirius replied, looking up at him desperately, grasping at his hand and squeezing. "We can't screw this up - too many lives already, Moony... How many was it they killed on Samhain? Eighteen? Twenty?"

"Thirty-one."

"How can we just let that poor fucking kid suffer on his own without even doing anything? It's insane!"

"Harry concerns me more," Remus admitted gently, brushing the other man's hair out of his face. "God knows what he'll try to do, now. You know what he's like... He's very fond of Draco and he won't take 'no' for an answer. I was considering that maybe we should let him go to Wales with Gavin for a couple of days when the holiday starts. It'll give him something to look forward to and it'll distract him."

"Wales? No way - it's far too risky, Moony! We don't know who these people are!"

"Yes, we do, I asked Jemima Brown if she had any background on them, she said she knows Bryony Cross through her sister-in-law. They're an ex-Hufflepuff and an ex-Gryffindor, Siri, no connection to the Darkside by any stretch of the imagination. Bryony runs a baby clothes shop and Dennis is a taxi driver, believe it or not. They live virtually as Muggles. I think it'd probably be the safest place for Harry - it's actually a pity he'd only be there for a couple of days. If you don't believe me why don't you ask Dumbledore?"

"I do believe you, but what are the wards like there? How many people would know that Harry's there, where he isn't as protected?"

"I'm sure we can arrange to take him to and from the school with as little fuss as possible. Send Gavin home on the express without him, then take him down to Wales the next day when Gavin is settled back at home," Remus suggested calmly. "We have to let him live like a normal teenager, Padfoot. James would have fought tooth and nail for that; he has enough complicated problems to overcome as it is, stifling him is not going to help, no matter how well-meaning."

"But - "

"Siri, listen to me, he has to get comfortable in himself. He's fifteen years old, he has barely been out of the closet for six months and he has two boys - both of whom have their merits, I will add - who are fighting for him. And he doesn't know whom to choose. Now one of them has been snatched by his father who also happens to have plans to kill him. This is not an easy time for him. If we let him go he has something to look forward to and it will take him away from this place for a while. It'll be empty without the others and he'll have far too much worrying-time on his hands. We really have to let him do this for his own sake."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, before giving him a small, sad smile, "How did you become an expert on teenagers?" he asked leaning over and resting his forehead against Remus'.

"We were all fifteen once," Remus said quietly, giving him a tiny brush of a kiss on the lips, and sighing. "He means the world to Gavin, you know."

"Does he really?"

"Yes, Siri, really. He worships the ground Harry walks on and he knows about Draco. In fact, he thinks Draco is going to win Harry's affection and he'll be left standing."

"Harry's always so bloody adamant that he doesn't fancy blondie, though..."

"No, but sometimes I wonder if it's too late for that to matter."

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't reckon Harry's in love with Draco, do you?"

"They're very close..."

"So are Dumbledore and McGonagall, but you don't think they're shagging, do you?"

"I tend to avoid it."

"I think we all tend to avoid it!"

"Quite," Remus chuckled, stroking Sirius' face and gazing into his pale blue eyes. They'd changed. They weren't the bright, sparkling pools that the girls would sigh over in the common room, but they weren't the flat, colourless and vaguely inhuman things that they had once been. They had life in them again; some of the old Sirius was really beginning to seep through, like blades of grass through the snow. "I love you," Remus found himself saying, entirely without meaning to.

"Love you, too," Sirius smiled, looking slightly bemused. "You feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, I just... well, do I need an excuse?"

"No, but if you fancied dropping in a kiss as well I think I could turn a blind eye."

"Tart."

"Thank you."

"We were meant to be discussing Harry..."

"Harry can do, see, and go what, who and wherever he wants at the moment, I really don't care."

"My God, you're such a nightmare, sometimes!"

"Look who's talking."

"Seriously, Padfoot," Remus said, trying to disentangle himself from the man trying to nuzzle his neck, "You're treading thin ice. And we need to decide where Harry will be this Christmas. It's less than a month away, you know..."

"Okay, okay," Sirius huffed in mock annoyance, "Harry it is. I thought it was only babies that were meant to ruin your sex-life?"

"Siri, dearest darling, let us make something clear - you don't have a sex-life."

"Heh, yeah, and don't I know it?" the other man scowled. "Really, Moony, this separate room things has got to stop - "

"Thin ice, Siri."

"We'll give him a portkey with voice activation, have Moody scope the house and have Harry there by lunchtime on the day after the train leaves. He can stay two nights, and then he's coming back. One of us picks him up around dinner time on the last day?" Sirius said immediately, as if successfully dissuaded, "Happy now, slave driver?"

"Well, it needs a little refining but it's a start."

"Moony, doesn't it bother you that even our godson is getting laid and we aren't?"

"Coming from the one who had his hands over his ears at the mere mention of Harry kissing someone that's a little rich, isn't it? Besides, they aren't."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he hasn't told me and Draco hasn't come to me in tears, yet."

"Well, Draco's not exactly going to now, is he?"

Remus gave a sigh as the urgency of the situation with which they were faced was brought back to him, "No, I don't suppose he will."

"This is wrong, Moo..." Sirius sighed, resting his head on his hand and gazing at him mournfully. "This is going to go tits up, I know it fucking will."

Remus stood up to pour the kettle, stroking his hair as he passed, "I have a funny feeling that we'll get through, one way or another."

"Yeah, but what about Draco? Can you fucking imagine having to tell Harry the kid's been sacrificed? It'd screw him up for good, Moony!"

"It won't come to that. We won't let it. We may have to hold fire for now, but it won't last forever."

"Yeah, and what if that's too late? What do we do then?"

Remus stared down in to the swirling bubbles on the top of his tea, "I don't know."

~*~

The scene that night, should anyone have looked out of a window facing the Whomping Willow just after midnight, would almost certainly struck them as ominous. Six figures ran across the grounds towards the vicious plant and disappeared into a hole at its base. Together, Harry, Gavin, Ron, Hermione and the Twins stumbled along the darkened passage, lit only by a couple of Lumos spells.

"I can' believe I'm doin' this!" Gavin hissed excitedly, reminding Harry that while all the others were quite used to running around the school in darkness and had explored its secret tunnels more than once, Gavin was a fairly average student who only ever got detentions for not handing in homework and certainly not for helping Hagrid with baby dragons in first year; he felt around in the dark and grasped at Gavin's hand, squeezing tightly.

Ahead of them, one of the Twins flung open the trap door into the Shack and climbed up, holding the door open for the others while his brother moved around lighting lamps around the room. The others climbed into the room and looked around them curiously. Even for Harry, Ron and Hermione it had been a long time since they were last in the dilapidated building.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Harry asked, staring at the huge, long-burnt-out fireplace with anticipation.

"You got the floo powder?" Fred asked, removing his rucksack and dumping it near the hearth.

"Yeah, here," Harry replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small jar in which he had secreted some floo power from the cottage.

"We're going to have to build a real fire - "

" - magical ones are too traceable - "

" - but we've got the stuff, so it shouldn't take too long - "

" - then we'll do a test-run, see what we get."

The other four stared around at each other, nerves and excitement building as the Twins diligently unpacked their bags, slamming chunks of dry wood, an old copy of the Daily Prophet and some carrier bags of dry leaves and twigs down onto the stone hearth. Within a few minutes there were small, flickering flames licking out from beneath the near-conical pile of twigs, and both boys sat back in satisfaction.

"There!"

"Now we've just gotta wait for it to get a bit bigger..."

"Said the 'ousewife t' the vicar."

Everyone stared at Gavin, who promptly turned rather red and explained, "S' a sayin'... y'know - when someone says somethin' a bit rude-soundin'? Innuendo?"

"Riiight," Ron nodded, clearly thinking that he was a fruitcake. "So how do we make it bigger?"

"Tell you what, Ron - "

" - you take this bottle of lighter fluid, here - "

" - and see what happens when you pour it on there."

Ron stared at the bottle in his brother's hand and almost reached out with his own to take it, hesitating and withdrawing carefully. "Nah," he said finally, "I don't trust you two one bit."

The Twins looked at each other and laughed wickedly, "Looks like he's learning after all..."

"Shouldn't we at least try something?" Hermione asked, from where she stood close to the hearth. "We should try to get this over with as soon as possible."

"Stoke it," Harry said, reaching down and pulling at a longer stick protruding from the flames and using it to stir up the fire so that the flames rose in their intensity a little. "See? Can we give it a try, now?"

George tilted his head to the side, squinting at the flames, "I think it'll have to do, really."

"Yeah," Fred nodded, folding his arms, "get the floo powder and throw a little bit - "

" - just a little bit or you might end up there without meaning to - "

" - into the flames and speak really clearly, alright?"

Harry nodded and unscrewed the lid of the jar, handing it to Gavin and reaching inside to take a hefty pinch. He stepped closer, feeling the weight of all their gazes on him, and took a deep breath before throwing the dust into the flames. They gave a sudden roar and rose another foot in size, flickering green and then... dying down to their usual size.

"Damn!" Harry said, turning to the Twins for advice. They were frowning identical frowns, heads cocked to an identical angle.

"It's been a while - "

" - it's hardly surprising it won't go straight away..."

"Try again."

Harry turned back to the fireplace and took another, larger pinch of floo powder, tossing it quickly into the hearth, there was the same whoosh of fire and the flames flickered green - back to orange - and then, to their unanimous relief -

"GREEN! It's staying green!"

"Hurry up, Harry!"

"Um - Draco Malfoy's bedroom, Malfoy Manor. Wiltshire..." Harry added, just to be sure.

"Don't forget the postcode, Harry, mate," one of the Twins snorted in amusement.

"Ah, y'know - better safe than sorry an' all that..." Gavin grinned, kissing Harry on the top of his head. Harry barely noticed.

For several seconds there was nothing. They waited, staring into the hearth, each willing something to happen.

"Why don't you try saying something?" Hermione whispered.

"Er... um... Draco?" Harry began, trying not to speak too loudly, "Draco, can you hear me?"

There was another long pause and a strange shuffling sound, and then, to their delight, a bleary-looking and very pale face appeared in the flames.

"Harry?"

"Oh, thank God you're alive!" Harry cried, kneeling down to get closer to the fire. "I thought you'd be dead by now!"

"So did I..." Draco replied, trailing off as he looked over Harry's shoulder, "Oh my God, you brought the entire school! Is Lupin here?"

"No... why, did you want to speak to him?"

"No, I just thought you might be conducting a lesson on how best to get yourself killed by a Death Eater."

"Sarcastic git," Harry said, smiling indulgently. "How are you doing? Has he hurt you?"

The pale face in the flames looked away for a moment before saying, "No, not yet. He has been hoping I'll harm myself, though."

"What?" Hermione asked, immediately kneeling beside Harry.

"He has only allowed the House Elves to bring me food mixed with tuna - to which I am profoundly allergic. Very, very profoundly allergic. Of course, I can't eat something that has the potential to cause me great pain and possibly even death, so I haven't eaten. This is only the first day and I'm already hungry - he knows that either by eating contaminated food or by starving myself, I am very likely to result in killing myself."

There was some hurried shuffling behind them, and Harry glanced back to see George tipping his bag out onto an armchair and riffling through the contents. He turned back to Draco.

"Don't worry, Draco, we'll have you out of there soon - can you floo?"

"Ordinarily, yes, but not now."

"What? Why?"

"I'm grounded, of course - you don't think he'd just put me in my room and take no other precautions, do you?"

"What do you mean when you say 'grounded'?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

"I mean he has trapped me in my bedroom. I cannot leave."

"My mam grounds Jack like tha'," Gavin elaborated, stepping nearer, "involves a bit of 'air or somethin' and there's a spell that can only be released when the person who cast it puts one of their own 'airs into it, see?"

Harry turned back to Draco who stared up at Gavin for several moments, saying nothing. The look he gave Harry said plenty, though.

The tension was broken by George leaning through between Harry and Hermione's shoulders and tossing something into the flames. Instinctively, Draco caught them both and stared down at his hands, out of sight of those in the shack. He looked up sharply and stared at George appraisingly before asking, "Are these your novelty creations?"

"No," George told him, shaking his head slightly, "I bought them in Honeydukes. I thought they might tide you over until we can get you some food in."

"What d'you just give him?" Fred asked, glancing back at George's empty bag.

"Just a couple of Meal In A Mouthful bars... I think our apocalyptic stock can do without two for now."

"You never bloody know," Fred replied impatiently, "and you just completely wasted a really good opportunity there, an' all."

From the fireplace Draco looked up and nodded to George, breaking up their light bickering, "Thank you," he said with as much dignity as he could. "I'll repay you if I ever get out of here."

"Don't mention it," George said, shaking his head, "it's us who are in debt already, isn't it?"

"Can you lot try not to talk about me like I'm not bloody here?" Ron asked irritably. He was crouched beside Hermione, now, not far from the flames.

"Look, Draco, we'll sort out some kind of rota or something - we'll bring you food as often as we can - we won't let you go hungry just because your dad is trying to be a bastard," Harry assumed him, wishing he could reach into the flames and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "That way we'll see you often enough to be able to notice when something is wrong... if something is wrong."

"Meals on Wheels at sixteen," Draco smirked, "this does not bode well for my retirement..."

"Harry, I think we should start getting ready to leave," Hermione said, looking at her watch, "we've been here for long enough. I'm sorry, Draco."

"Granger, the very fact of knowing I have some avenue of contact with the world outside this place is reassuring enough. If you don't mind I'd actually quite like to continue my beauty sleep."

"You sure?" Harry asked.

"Quite sure. Really," Draco insisted. "Go. Before I start making unreasonable demands!"

"We'll be back," Harry promised as he began to scramble to his feet, "Tomorrow - about lunch time - is that alright?"

"We'll I don't know, I'll have to check my diary," Draco replied, rolling his eyes.

"Tomorrow, then. Sleep well..."

"Like the dead, no doubt. Good night."

They put out the fire with a bottle of water Fred had brought, and collecting their things, began to scramble down the tunnel back to the school. They made it across the grounds and up the stairs safely, parting company on the second floor landing as the Twins ran to their secret room to stow away their things. Ron and Hermione crept back to the Gryffindor common room, while Harry and Gavin stayed behind to say goodnight before they parted.

"You feelin' better, now?" Gavin asked, smoothing down Harry's hair affectionately.

Harry nodded, sliding an arm around his waist and just inside the other boy's zip-up track top; "He's not dead, at least."

"You gonna promise not t' do anythin' daft now we know that?" the older boy said, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against Harry's.

"I don't do daft things..." Harry replied, kissing him and then resting his head against the other boy's shoulder, cuddling him tightly. "Thank you for coming with us," he said softly, "I'm glad you understand."

Gavin closed his eyes and squeezed him tightly, "He's your friend," he said kindly, "I jus' think of what I'd be like if somethin' 'appened t' Si... Frien's 'ave t' come firs' sometimes, that's all."

"Gavin," Harry said, pulling back slightly and looking up at the Welsh boy earnestly, "I really appreciate the way you've been with me, recently. I know sometimes it must seem that I'm a bit..."

"Obsessed with Draco Malfoy?" Gavin offered, giving him a small, wistful smile and running his thumb gently on the back of Harry's neck.

"Obsessed?" Harry echoed, frowning worriedly. "Is that... is that how is feels?"

Gavin took a slow, deep breath, casting his dark brown eyes towards the ceiling, "Sometimes," he conceded softly. "An' it 'urts, a bit, but... I dunno... I live with it 'cause I don' wanna make you think you 'ave t' choose, I s'pose..."

"What do you mean, 'choose'?"

Gavin swallowed and winced slightly, "'Arry... 'alf the time we're together I'm scared you're suddenly gonna decide you like 'im better than me an'... an' jus' dump me. I couldn' blame you or nothin' but I really don' wan' to lose you, an'... well, look at 'im - 'e's better lookin' than I am, one day 'is dad's gonna be locked up an' he'll own ev'rythin' and most of all you're closer than we are." He swallowed again and gave a heavy sigh, "Tha' makes it soun' like I think you're fickle..." he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. "S'not what I were sayin'... I were jus' sayin' that if you... if you did I could see why..."

"What?" Harry asked in concerned disbelief, reaching up and pushing the older boy's hair back behind his ear, gently, "Oh, Gavin, listen to me - I really, really care about you. How many times do you want me to say that? He isn't... Draco just can't compare, okay? He's my friend and he's great, but I don't want him. I want you."

"You c'n 'onestly say you'd rather 'ave th' workin'-class lump from the Valleys an' not the beautiful, sophisticated heir to a massive ancestral estate?" Gavin asked dubiously. "You'd be mad."

"Who would you rather have?" Harry asked. "And he's not beautiful, he's just pretty. Like a girl - and I don't like those either. You, on the other hand," he said, sliding his hands up the front of Gavin's top with a mischievous grin, "are much, much sexier that anybody in this school..."

Harry kissed him slowly, trying to show that he meant it. He wasn't very good at that sort of thing.

"Well sometimes it jus' feels too good t'be true, tha's all..."

"Let me tell you something about 'too good to be true', Gavin - the day you picked up my books for me I had only just been thinking about the guys I'd fancied and liked at the time and you were one of them. When you spoke to me I almost thought I'd imagined it because I just didn't think you'd ever be even slightly interested in me. You should take a look at yourself, you know. You're one of the most popular people in the school - you're the captain of a sports team and you're brainy and gorgeous and there was absolutely no reason for you to like me. I'm lucky if people like me for being the Boy Who Lived once they actually meet me, let alone fancying me."

Gavin gazed at him for a few moments, his mouth slightly parted, "But I liked you fer ages!" he told him, as if this was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard, "I were waitin' for some excuse t'speak t'you - an' I thought tha' when I were made captain it gave me a reason, y'know? Like we 'ad somethin' in common... like we were equal. I were gutted when you asked out Cho..."

"But you went to the ball with that Hufflepuff girl - "

"What was I mean' t'do? Ask you to go myself? When you'd just 'ad the nerve to ask a really pretty older girl? You 'ad the respect of a lot o' people fer that, you know. An' besides, I started t' think tha' you did like girls, after all. Would've made a prat o' myself for nothin'."

Sighing, Harry returned his head to its previous resting place on Gavin's shoulder and said, "You're an idiot, Gavin Cross. A soppy, stupid idiot." He slipped his hand back to the dip of Gavin's spine and pressed his fingers flat against the warm skin. "Draco needs me - he's got no one else and so I feel sort of responsible for him, I suppose... and I mean, he's y'know... he's in love with me and everything and I know I make it difficult for him just by being with you, but I can't help that, because that's what I want." He looked up at the other boy and said, very firmly, "This is what I want. This - us... I care about him, but it's not the same. Not really."

"I...well... part of me knows tha'," Gavin admitted, rubbing Harry's back and brushing his lips against Harry's so gently he had to reach up and pull him down for a proper kiss, which seemed a little more slow and drawn-out than usual; more meaningful and somehow even more loving than Gavin's always-gentle touches. "But part of me," he sighed as he pulled away just enough to be able to see into Harry's eyes as he spoke, "part of me jus' thinks tha' this is too good to be true an' I'm always 'alf waitin' for somethin' t' ruin it. An' I know you don' love me back or anythin' but I love you an' even though I can' think of anythin' worse at the moment than losing you... I wan' you t' be 'appy..."

"I'm happy with you," Harry told him, mildly disturbed by how different his voice sounded in that moment. How his heart contracted in his chest and sent warm pulses to his stomach with every thump.

"You sure?" Gavin asked rubbing their noses together just a fraction.

"Completely."

"Good..."

They stood in silence for a few moments, arms wrapped tightly around each other, until Harry said, "I'm going to speak to Remus tomorrow - about Christmas and coming to your house and stuff..."

"Really?" Gavin asked, smiling happily.

"Yeah, really," Harry nodded, slipping the hand beneath his top down until the fingers were instead slid well beneath the waistband of his jeans. "And I thought that maybe..." he trailed off, taking a deep breath and nuzzling into Gavin's neck.

"Maybe...?"

"Maybe we should see if we can sort of... y'know... pick up where we left off at the cottage; and go a bit further..." Harry said hesitantly, not sure how to say what he was trying to, but very sure that he meant it.

"How much further?" Gavin asked, so quietly Harry wasn't sure he'd have heard it if he hadn't had his lips so close to Harry's ear.

Swallowing, Harry raised his head a little and kissed him awkwardly on the cheek before nuzzling back into the curve of his neck, "As far as we can."

~*~

It was strange, the first few days, when people he barely knew and for many years had hated began to appear through the leaf-green light in his fireplace and hand him food. People he had never liked were trying to help him, and although he hated the feeling of being dependant on them - of being little more than another Gryffindor 'cause' - he was grateful to them, because in their place he wasn't sure he'd make the effort. They often came in pairs, although there was one time when Granger had come alone, explaining that Harry and Ron had got into a fight with Zabini and Higgs and had detention, and sometimes Harry would sit and talk to him for a while. It was nice to have some company, but they never stayed for very long, always rushing to get back to class or afraid of being caught - or just plain disinterested.

It was one lunchtime that the hearth suddenly blazed emerald and Draco saw a familiar face peering through, the vivid sweep of fringe a distorted dark brown instead of its usual vibrant red.

"Draco?"

"George? I'm here," he said climbing from his bed and crawling nearer the fireplace. He looked through the flames himself, "Where's Fred?"

"What makes you think I'm not Fred?" George asked, smirking and tilting his head to the side.

"Well, I don't know, but it could possibly have something to do with the fact that you're George," Draco told him. "Unless you've taken to cloning yourselves and named the creatures after each other, moron."

"Hang on, hang on, hang on - we're identical!" George protested disbelievingly, "Even our own mother can't tell us apart - how the hell can you tell whether I'm me or not?"

"It's a gift," Draco snorted. "Or perhaps just a rouse on your mother's part to cover the fact she can't remember your names."

"Hm... that's possible, actually. All these years we thought swapping jumpers was enough to get away with murder..."

Draco smirked and waited as the other boy crouched down in front of the hearth and began to unpack his bag.

"Nothing special today, I'm afraid," George told him, passing the package into the fire, "they gave us loads of stodgy stuff, so I had to go down to the kitchens after and get this."

"You shouldn't have bothered," Draco told him, feeling slightly embarrassed. He unwrapped the parcel to find a couple of sausage rolls, a cheese and pickle sandwich and an apple. "Thanks," he said, folding it back together and putting it to one side. The other boy would be gone shortly and eating while he someone was actively watching made him horribly self-conscious.

"No problem," George smiled. There was a long pause and to Draco's surprise the other boy settled down on the floor, his knees brought up to his chest and his hands linked around them. "So, how're you getting on?"

"Me?" Draco asked in surprise, "Oh well, I'm fine, except for insane boredom and lack of hot food and fresh air."

"Harry thinks your dad's going to do something really bad," George admitted. "I probably shouldn't've said that, actually, but y'know..."

"I know what?"

"Well, not you know, but... y'know? Harry's worried. Your dad's a fruitcake, isn't he?"

Draco didn't say anything.

"He's good like that," George continued. "Cares about everyone... Daft prat gets himself into a lot of crap that way, though."

"Why are you here?" Draco asked, tonelessly. This was beginning to sound a lot like someone had been sent to drop hints and he wasn't sure what about, but he had a feeling that he didn't want to know.

"It's lunchtime..." the ginger boy said, frowning. "What's the matter?"

"So where is your brother?"

"He's... He's just busy. We don't wither and die on our own, thanks... Why, anyway?"

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, it's lunchtime."

"You know that isn't what I mean, Weasley. Usually you hand me the food and leave. I'm still trying to fathom out why you even do that. You've spent years trying to kill me on the Quidditch pitch, so - "

"Oi! Anyone'd think you'd forgotten what happened last time you were on the bloody pitch and exactly why it is you're there instead of here!" George interrupted. "Ron might be a bit of a twat but he's our little brother and like it or not, you saved his life the other day, so we're doing what we can to save yours. We can stop if it bothers you, y'know."

Draco took a deep breath and looked away from the fire for a moment. "I apologise; I just can't stand being trapped here and I can't... You're supposed to hate me."

"Water under the bridge," George told him immediately. "Circumstances change things."

"Right."

There was another lengthy pause.

"Look, if you really wanna know, Fred's not here 'cause he's off with this girl he's seeing," George confessed, staring at his hands. "D'you mind if I hang around for a bit? I've got a free after lunch anyway."

"You've nothing better to do that sit in a dusty old hut and talk to me?"

"Actually, I could be working on the latest Wheezes, but I thought you might like some company."

Draco stared at him for a minute; "If you want," he shrugged finally. "Don't feel obliged, though."

"I don't. I just thought that seeing as I'm feeding you every day it was best to get to know you as something other than The Anaemic Little Prat."

"How touching."

"Well... fair's fair, ain't it?"

"If you say so."

There was another long pause and Draco had the strangest feeling that the next hour was going to be as much fun as pulling teeth.

"So," he began again, as George sat and picked at the fraying hem of his jumper, "are you jealous?"

For a moment the other boy froze, before looking up at him very slowly. "Jealous? Who of?"

"Of the girl. Or maybe of your brother..."

George stared down at his sleeve again. "No..."

"I see," Draco nodded; clearly, he was lying. "So which one aren't you jealous of?"

"I'm not jealous!" the older boy protested crossly.

"Right. And it doesn't bother you at all? Suddenly you aren't needed and you're stuck with me... Two's company, after all."

George looked up and fixed him with a stare, "He's my twin," he said flatly.

"Yes, I know. But she isn't."

"Malfoy, are you trying to start a fight?"

"No, I'm just saying that it must be difficult for you when you're being pushed out like that."

"I'm not. We're different people, you know, we can have lives of our own. We're not co-dependent!"

Draco laughed at the flushed face in the fire. "That is a down-right fib, Weasley."

"Shut up... we're not co-dependent," George said again, less certainly.

"Well, Fred might not be..."

"Neither am I!"

"Except that when he's not around you have to come and waste your time with the last person in the world you'd ordinarily want to speak to?"

"It's not like that! I just thought I'd make the most of the time, that's all. If you'd rather I left I can just go now."

"No," Draco found himself saying, before he even knew why, "no, don't - I'm sorry. I suppose I'm reeling from the shock of hearing you finish one of your own sentences."

George tossed a piece of coal from the hearth through the fire and muttered, "Get stuffed," but he was starting to grin again.

"Well," Draco sighed, unwrapping the food parcel again and starting to pick at a sausage roll, "anything interesting happening at the school?"

George gave a snort of laughter and said, "Not much, 'cept Harry and Gavin Cross are fucking weird! Did you know they're going out?"

Feeling as though he wanted to bang his head against a brick wall, Draco nodded, "Yes."

"Ah. We didn't. We were dead surprised, actually. Never had Gav down as a homo... Harry... yeah, probably, but not Gavin."

"Quite."

"And we caught them snogging the other day - which was the first we knew about it, actually - and since then every time I see them they're all touchy-touchy. Makes you sick, doesn't it? Bloody couples. I hate all that soft stuff. I don't care who does what with whom, just as long as they're not practically shagging each other in front of me. Ergh."

The ginger boy grimaced and Draco was torn between not wanting to know the details and masochistic curiosity about what he wasn't being told about Harry and Gavin. Almost every time Harry was 'on duty' he brought Gavin with him. Draco really wished he would stop, just come alone for once so that they could actually talk. He saw him every day, but he still missed him, some how.

"Are they that bad?" he asked, forcing a laugh. He didn't want George to know about his feelings for Harry if he didn't already.

"Pretty bad. Not in public - I don't think they're that stupid - but Gavin comes and hangs out with us sometimes and when that happens... It's like watching a soft por -"

"Please stop."

George blinked at him, still half-grinning. "What's wrong, feeling sick enough already?"

"Yes. You could say that."

"Sorry, I'll shut up, now."

"Just change the subject..."

"Er... okay... So, um... what sort of music are you into?"

"Music?" Draco asked, bemusedly, "I'm not really a fan of anyone, really..."

George looked vaguely scandalised. "You're not into anyone. You don't appreciate music at all?"

"Well, no... I never really had the time for it."

"You have been missing out. A lot."

"I'd say that was a matter of opinion."

"I'd say that was a matter of fact!"

"Why do I have a horrible feeling you're about to enlighten me?"

"Can't," George said, frowning, "nothing to play it on."

"You play an instrument?" Draco asked, suddenly a lot more interested. Harry had gushed that Cross played guitar or something, and he wanted to find out if this was really as wonderful as Harry seemed to think it was.

George looked vaguely resigned and said, "Nah, what with all the stuff we need for Quidditch it always felt like a bit much to ask for instruments as well..."

Draco suddenly felt very guilty for the fact that his parents could supply an entire Quidditch team with brooms and consider it no more than pocket money; some part of him noted that this was the first time he had felt genuinely sorry for the Weasleys. He carefully suppressed a cringe.

"Don't you play anything at all?" George asked. "I sort of imagined you'd be trained in classical piano or cello or something poncey like that."

"No. My mother wanted me to take up piano when I was five but my father shared the opinion that classical instruments are, as you say, 'poncey'."

"Oh. Sucks."

"I can't say I'm that bothered."

"Yeah, but you had that chance, man - most of us would've killed to be able to afford stuff like that!" He blushed slightly and looked away, as if he felt he had said too much.

"Well, I would have killed to have a family like yours," Draco said quietly. "The only sibling I had was murdered at birth by my psychotic father, which drove my mother insane..." He looked up to see George studying him with a look of concern. "The grass is always greener, isn't it?" Draco said with a slight smirk.

George stayed for ages; in fact he missed his only lesson of the afternoon because they didn't notice the time. It had been an awkward start, but they were soon talking like old friends. George was so laid back once he was off the subject of Fred that it was hard for Draco not to tell him things that he knew were best kept quiet... Harry, his ill-fated suicide attempt, his pyroclasty... When George finally admitted that he did feel 'bored' without Fred's full attention, he knew to accept he meant 'lonely' and that being a twin was something far more intense and hard to comprehend that he could ever have realised, otherwise. "He's been there all my life," George had explained, "we've grown up together sharing everything, We know each other so well we could practically read each other's minds... People think we're too close, that there's something wrong with us; I know because I've heard them say it. They'd never understand, though... they can think what they want, the wankers. I'm not going to pretend to be something else just because they want me to."

Draco had raised an eyebrow, feeling that when he put it like that George made it sound like there was some foundation to the rumours; George threw several pieces of coal at him and promptly protested what Draco deemed to be far too much. He told him so, and George picked up a rusty old pair of coal tongs and shoved them at him, through the fire, threatening to break his perfect, aristocratic nose. Draco had laughed until his stomach hurt.

~*~

Harry's mind was not particularly focused as he packed his clothes for the trip to Wales. In fact, he had to pull everything out and re-pack twice and he was only staying two nights! Unsurprisingly, he was thinking about Gavin, which was why he had all the concentration of a goldfish. They had agreed, after carefully skirting around the subject and using progressively more obscure euphemisms for a couple of weeks, that this was what they both wanted to do. Ron would probably have a fit and rave for hours about sex before marriage if he knew, so Harry hadn't told him. He hadn't told anyone, even though he was fairly sure from the look of interest Simon gave him when he bumped into them both in the corridor, and the subsequent wink as the rest of the students congregated in the entrance hall before heading to Hogsmeade station that morning, that Gavin had told his best friend. Harry had blushed a lot, he was sure. He and Gavin hadn't been able to say goodbye as they would have liked to at the door, but they had met up early before breakfast and whispered promises, and assurances that had made his stomach flutter, between kisses. It was only a matter of hours until they saw each other again, but to Harry it felt like weeks.

The rucksack he was taking wasn't very big, and he had to take some smart clothes, too, because they were all going out on the first night, and he had tried and tried to fit everything in because he felt a little silly taking anything larger with such a short stay planned. He had been trying to ignore the fact that he was going to be meeting his boyfriend's parents, forcing himself to concentrate on other things. He was more nervous about that than the prospect of losing his virginity. They had agreed to wait until the holiday, when he was away at the Cross family home, because for all the convenience afforded to living on school grounds, having a werewolf with disturbingly heightened senses for a godfather detracted rather a lot from it where anything sexual was concerned. Harry had often thought that it must have been horrendous for Remus during his teens, when he had to share a dorm with three other teenage boys. Just the sounds of quietly rustling sheets embarrassed Harry to the point of burying his head under his pillow and reciting the Alchemic Alphabet backwards in his mind. Sometimes he though he might be slightly prudish and wondered at what point he had actually lost his mind enough to have such an intimate argument about embarrassingly private things in front of Sirius and Remus.

Other times, he felt exhilaratingly liberal; but then there did tend to become a point when everything else just stopped mattering when he was with Gavin. He liked that. Aside from the fact that he was very, very much a male of the species, Gavin was ordinary and that made Harry feel more ordinary, too. Well, in many ways Harry thought he was utterly extraordinary - there weren't many people who would put up with his so-called 'obsession' with Draco and be so very intelligent and so ditzy and so blond despite having such shiny dark hair and sparkly brown eyes and so strong and laddish but so soppy and cuddly and... Harry suddenly became aware that he was gazing wistfully at the dark blue t-shirt in his hands, which was about four sizes too big for him and had ended up in his possession sometime a few days ago when Harry had said he smelled nice. Gavin had taken off both his tops, handed Harry the t-shirt and put the jumper back on. Harry had then stuffed said garment under his pillow in the dorm (much to Ron, Seamus and Dean's amusement), only to come back after class to find conspicuously fresh-looking sheets and the t-shirt folded neatly on his pillow. Even the house-elves were dropping hints...

Harry sighed and sat down on his bed, grinning to himself and burying his face in the t-shirt, the fabric worn soft with use and age. It smelled of Gavin - like the Dolly Mixtures in the corner shop down the end of Foxglove Avenue in Little Whinging, and something sharper like Granny Smith's apples - and when Harry thought of Gavin it made his stomach twist in happy knots. He just cared about him so much that he almost bubbled over with excitement when he knew they were due to see each other in the night - something that had happened more and more frequently since the night in the Shack. Gavin made him so happy it actually hurt - a tight, jittery feeling just beneath his ribs - and Harry knew, now, that he couldn't keep hurting Gavin by putting him second to Draco. As much as he cared about Draco (and he cared about him a lot) it was Gavin he was going out with - Gavin who was going to be the first person he slept with (and he Gavin's) - and that had to count for something. Draco would understand, if only he'd let Harry talk long enough to explain without it turning into a fight again. He had to... And if he didn't... well, maybe Harry would have to start making some decisions.

To be continued...

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