When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ XIV: Part Two

So See the Survivor in Control

"You won't know how well you've played until you've won..." Embrace

It was an odd party who left the cottage at quarter past seven on New Year's eve. It was already dark and the near-full moon had risen. It had snowed earlier in the day, but for now the air was clear and their breath sailed away in wisps.

Six Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws and a Slytherin setting off for a night out together was not exactly a common occurrence at Hogwarts. Harry and Gavin led the way, playfully scattering the powdery upper layer of snow and kicking it at each other before giggling and falling into a sideways hug as they carried on. Behind them, Ron dutifully had his own arm around Hermione, and Fred, Gina and Simon dawdled after them. A few dozen yards behind them, George finished locking up the cottage while Draco, who had actually been assigned the task, waited nearby, levitating a crate of Hobgoblin Ale.

Fred turned back to glance over his shoulder and gave a little knowing smirk as he saw his brother take the blond boy's free hand and pull his glove on for him, so that he didn't have to put down the crate. It was a pity he wasn't the only one who noticed. Ahead of them, Harry had turned around to see where everyone was and obviously witnessed the action.

"Oh look," he called out, "Likkle Pumpkin can't keep his hands off his delicate likkle Snowflake for one minute, bless."

Fred had had enough, and without pause to think about it he snapped, "Maybe you should pay more attention to your own boyfriend instead of someone else's, Harry."

"Well," Harry replied, "you see the thing with that is that neither of them have the decency to admit it."

"You know what? Maybe if you left them alone for ten minutes they'd find the time to work it out for themselves. I'm sure you can't help being jealous, but it's about time you got your priorities straight, don't you reckon?"

Gavin, still standing a few feet behind Harry seemed to deflate a little at the words, pushed his hand through his hair and wandered a little further away.

Harry glared at Fred for a moment, before reaching out to grasp at Gavin's hand defiantly, only to realise he wasn't there. He whirled around in surprise, the others watching in uncomfortable silence, until he laid eyes on the older boy, walking off into the dark. He hesitated, glancing over he shoulder for an instant, and then sprinted after him.

"Gav! Gavin - wait up..."

Gavin stopped and sighed, reluctantly turning to face him.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked as lightly as he could, even though he could feel his stomach contorting with the real reason. It felt worse when the older boy cast him a reproachful look and turned away; "Gavin!"

"Wha' d'you wan' me t' say?" the older boy shrugged tiredly. "Get on wi' it, don't mind me. I'm only the boyfrien' Weasley's referrin' to an' ev'rythin..."

"Oh come on. You don't actually take him seriously, do you?"

"See, if it were jus' Fred, then no, I prob'ly wouldn'. Bu' s' not, is it? S'ev'ryone an' it's written all over y' face."

"What?"

"How much fun d'you think I'm 'avin' watchin' that, eh? 'Cause it's not exac'ly a barrel a' laughs, 'Arry."

"Gavin, don't..."

"Don' what?" he asked helplessly, "Admit I c'n see it? Point it out? Tell you s' not okay? It's New-bloody-Year! I' not seen you since before Chris'mas an' I come back t' this."

"Nothing's happened!"

"No, obviously not, b' I don' think it's 'cause you're no' interested. I think it's 'cause Draco ain't!"

The silence spread between them for several seconds, and the others, barely a huddle of silhouettes across the lawn, started to move away and head for the gates.

For Harry, he felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat and was throbbing there and making his eyes prickle. "You don't trust me..."

"I did," Gavin replied miserably - softly, as if speaking about it would jinx everything. "An' I wan' t' trust you, but... It's as if you don' even think 'bout my feelin's. Like you c'n jus' say anything' you want an' I can' let myself care 'cause you'll treat me like I'm stupid if I do..."

"I - "

"It's as if you don' realise how cruel you are. No' jus' t'me, but t' your own frien's..."

"I'm sorry," Harry said pathetically, reaching out to him and trying to pull him nearer. "I don't meant to... and you - well, you've got it all wrong... Draco's my friend and I'm used to having his attention and I suppose I quite like that, but then someone who's meant to be my own friend comes along and takes up all his attention instead, when I could have done with it the most and... It worries me that Draco's in this fragile state because his parents are dead and everything and I mean - we're not talking about someone sweet and decent like you - we're talking George Weasley! It's like throwing a baby seal to a killer whale."

Gavin looked at him and shook his head, "Mean. Again, see? Being mean 'bout people y're meant t' be close to? Didn' you tell me once the Weasleys were your fam'ly?

Awkwardly, Harry nodded, "They are."

"An' so essentially, y're being really mean an' 'urtful t' someone you view as your own brother?"

"But only because I'm looking out for my friend! He doesn't know what he's getting himself into!"

"Oh don' be stupid!" Gavin said in exasperation, but pulled Harry close to him, wrapping his arms around him so that Harry had to tilt his head right back to look at him. "What y're doin' is well intended idiocy. You've gotta let Draco work things out fer 'imself for a start. An' what if you're wrong, anyway? What if George worships th' groun' 'e walks on? You wanna spoil tha', do you?"

"Well... I s'pose not - but - "

"'Arry: Shh. Listen, I don' wanna spoil New Year. Y're daft in th' head, sometimes, but I 'ate fightin' wi' you," he leaned down and kissed him on the lips, which Harry received gratefully, and continued, "Bu' if you keep actin' like this..."

There was an ominous pause.

"What?"

Gavin grimaced slightly and said, "Jus' don' disappoin' me, eh?" with a sort of fearful, hopeful inflection.

Harry squeezed him tight and buried his face in the other boy's chest in shame; "Please don't dump me..."

Sighing and stroking Harry's hair, Gavin murmured, "I'm no' goin' t' dump you..."

"You're the one really grounding thing I have in this world and I love you and...I love you. I really, really love you. I'm sorry, Gavin, I am - I'm an idiot. Promise you won't..." And he meant it. Deep down he could feel it - the desperate anxiety at the prospect of losing the one person who stuck by him relentlessly, without the duty of obligation. The one person who ever treated him like he was normal and just genuinely seemed to care about him.

The older boy didn't even hesitate before saying, "Promise, bu' only if you stop bein' so 'orrible."

"I promise. I promise - and if I'm horrible tell me off. I don't mean to be... I just worry about my friends, that's all."

"'S 'cause you' got a messiah complex, love," Gavin laughed softly and kissed his hair, "Sooner you realise you can' 'elp ev'ryone, the better for ev'rybody else."

Across the lawn, still levitating the crate of beer to trail along wrapped in Harry's invisibility cloak, Draco was finding it impossible to drag his eyes away from the barely-visible scene.

"C'mon, Snowflake," George said, reaching out and wrapping a supportive arm across his shoulders, "stop thinking about that. We're going to have a good time tonight, if it kills us."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, "Given your day-to-day antics, I don't entirely doubt that it will," he replied, and briefly leaned his head against George's shoulder before putting a respectable distance between them again. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw George look at him and smile a little before looking away.

A moment later, a figure not much taller than him appeared by his side and said, warmly, "Hello, Draco."

"Hello," he replied, as neutrally as he could and forcing himself to remember that she had been one of the group who had helped keep him alive.

This faded somewhat as she asked, sounding like she was speaking to a victim of galloping consumption, "How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly indescribable, thank you."

George gave him a side-long smirk.

"How was Christmas? It can't have been easy after everything that happened... Harry wrote to us and told us about it."

"Well, I'm sure my side of the story is entirely superfluous, then," he replied with a set smile.

"Snowflake," George began warningly, picking his free arm up and slapping the wrist, "play nice."

Draco turned and gazed at him for a moment, about to demand to know who, precisely, George thought he was; but the mischievous glint in the older boy's eye pacified him to the point of giving him an amused look and saying, "I do apologise, Hermione, I have not had the most pleasant of times, recently."

The girl regarded them with suspicion for a moment and said, "No, it would appear not."

George elbowed him lightly, so he continued, "Did you have a pleasant Yu - Christmas. You Muggles don't celebrate Yule, do you?"

Granger gave him a look that suggested she wanted to scalp him. "No," she said stiffly, "we 'Muggles' tend to celebrate the modern festival. Although mother and I did make some low-sugar cakes and pies from recipes we found at the library."

"You actually went to the library on your school holidays?" Draco asked flatly.

"Of course! There's really far too little on our matters in the public domain, you know. It's terribly sad. Perhaps if Muggles had access to our idea and our methods - "

"They would use them against us," Draco finished stonily.

There was a sharp silence; the very brink of an argument. Hermione's lips were thin and very pale - she was evidently desperate to debate the point.

"That is the one thing I learned from my father that I actually believe: there can be no peace where suspicion remains. If we made our world known to them, tried to compromise, we would just give away our knowledge to people who would eventually turn it on us. We would have no defence, then. You see how they decimate each other for scrappy pieces of land... The Muggle nation that had us on their side would be both a target and an aggressor; some would want the power, some would fight to protect the power and others would just abuse it. Trust me, I'm a Slytherin."

"Oooh," George said, leaning an arm on his shoulder, "now how could we possibly justify trusting you?"

Draco set his expression, lest he should give away the pang he felt in his chest, "I think I've proved myself already, don't you?"

George gave a slight flinch, and moved the arm to slip around his shoulders and give him a brief squeeze, before letting it fall away. "'Course," he said, nodding. "Of course..."

Draco continued to stare straight ahead of him.

Hermione looked at them for a moment, before uncomfortably saying, "I'm truly sorry for what happened, Draco. It must be awful for you... I shouldn't think that anyone really doubts you, now. Even Ron."

"Well, you'd know."

"He's very rash and he's very stubborn, but he's good-hearted. Ron doesn't mean nearly half of the things he says... He just doesn't take the time to think before he speaks. Then, I suppose that's what being a Gryffindor is about, isn't it? Harry is just the same."

Draco gave her a half-glance and flickered an eyebrow slightly in response.

"I know Harry is dreadfully insensitive, but I'm sure he'll get used to the idea..."

"The idea of what?"

"Well..." she looked at them both and opened her mouth to elaborate, before closing it and looking away.

Draco turned to George who was gazing off in the other direction, giving every appearance of not listening.

"If you're suggesting - "

"It wouldn't matter, Draco. He may seem terribly annoyed, but Harry isn't quite like anyone else - "

"Well that's that understatement of the week," George muttered darkly.

"Granger, Harry's opinion is irrelevant. And for your information, George and I are nothing more than good friends."

"Don't let Harry get in your way. He didn't let you hinder his and Gavin's relationship, did he?"

"You are over-stepping your mark," Draco replied coldly. He glanced at George, hoping for some support, but the older boy was not paying attention, gazing instead at the snow as they waded through it, both hands stuffed into his pockets.

Hermione looked at Draco for a moment, before glancing and George. She opened her mouth to say something again, but instead glanced back at the seventh year, and quickened her pace to catch up with Ron.

"How dare she?" Draco fumed, scowling after her. "Who the hell does she think she is?"

"She thinks she's someone who knows Harry. And she's right."

"About what?"

"You didn't stop him and Gavin living it up in their soppy little world, did you?"

"It's hardly her business."

"No, but she's trying to be kind."

"Well she has no business being kind."

"Oh, shut up, Snowflake. You're being as much of an arse as he is."

Draco gave a reluctant huff and murmured an apology. He always felt a little afraid of pushing the older boy away. The last thing he wanted was to displease him sufficiently for him to decided he didn't want to spend time with him any more. He'd be lonely without him. As kind as Black and Lupin were being to him, it was just charity. Harry was a moron Draco was rapidly growing sick of the sight of, the stroppy sod. But George liked him; made the effort to spend time with him and seemed to enjoy it. Draco actually felt a little pathetic for relying on him so much.

Up ahead, Hermione joined the merry band of straight people and was almost immediately accosted by Ron demanding, "Well, what do you reckon?"

She paused thoughtfully for a moment, before saying, "Well, you remember that time you went to Egypt...?"

Harry and Gavin, meanwhile, followed behind at a comfortable distance, easily out of ear-shot if they spoke quietly. The older boy had his arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry an arm around Gavin's waist. It had only really occurred to them as they watched the others together that they would have to spend the evening mostly apart if they wanted to keep their relationship a secret. It marred things a little because it would have been nice to spend the evening as they had done in Wales, with Gavin's friends. There had been no need to pretend, then, because once one had been told the news seemed to spread like wild fire.

Harry remembered what had happened to Hermione when the papers had printed those ridiculous stories about her. It was the last thing he wanted to subject Gavin to, never mind himself. Being the media's darling was bad enough, being its punch bag was much worse. Besides, he didn't want everyone knowing his business. He had been naïve, early on. He had wanted to convince himself that he was normal be happy and average and be seen in public and face no repercussions. It was fortunate that Gavin had more sense than he did. He couldn't bear the thought of making him a target.

Harry smiled softly and leaned his face in towards the other boy, pressing his cheek against his chest and taking a deep breath. It felt so safe, being with Gavin. Despite the fact that Gavin was a soppy git who wouldn't hurt a fly. He was certainly capable of it; the boy was keeper of the Ravenclaw team, for goodness sake! He was six feet tall and thirteen stone! He could probably knock most people's heads off, but he wouldn't because he didn't like hurting people. Harry sometimes suspected this was because of Jack... With a brother capable of such aggressive behaviour - and having seen the anxiety it must have caused their parents - Harry didn't think he'd want to risk it, either.

Gavin's grip around his shoulders tightened slightly and they came to a stop.

"Here," Harry said, pulling him round to face him, "might as well make the most of the last chance we're going to have..." and he reached up to kiss him. Gavin willingly obliged. They stood for a minute, hugging each other tightly.

"We don' 'ave t' stay apart all nigh' do we?" Gavin asked a touch regretfully. "I mean, 's not that I don' think I can live wi'out you or nothin' - " he gave a little chuckle and gave him another little kiss " - bu' s' been ages since we' been together an' I 'ave t' go back again tomorrow..."

"I know," Harry sighed, shrugging. "We can get away with hanging out together a bit, surely? I mean, it isn't as if people don't know we're 'friends', is it?"

"No... s' true."

"So, a bit, I suppose... we just have to be careful we don't do anything stupid without thinking..."

"O'viously Mr Rash Gryffindor."

"Shut up!" Harry laughed.

Gavin pinched at his ribs and teased, "Bein' mean again..."

Harry gave such a squawk that the others stopped and turned to see what was happening, and playfully slapped at Gavin's hands.

"Bastard."

"Oh, tha's nice!"

"You know I'm ticklish!"

"Well, yes, y' nearly broke my nose once, 'member?"

"That was your own fault..."

"Only 'cause you never warned me!"

"Fair point...I suppose."

"An' 'Arry?"

"Yes, dearest darling?"

"Wash y' mouth out."

"Why, we haven't even done anything yet!"

"Oh, you're foul, you are!" the older boy said, trying to sound serious and not quite managing it. "Your godfather's gonna go mad if 'e 'ears you talkin' like tha'..."

"Who, Sirius?!"

"No... Lupin."

Harry gave a dark chuckle, "Nah, it's alright, he's normally too busy telling Sirius off for swearing in front of me to bother about what I'm actually saying...Heh - let alone doing!"

"Well..." Gavin said dubiously, "I 'ope so... Got 'orrible feelin' I'll be squid food t'morrow, otherwise..."

"Well, in that case maybe we should skip the party altogether, go home and make the most of your last few hours, then."

"Is there a word f' male nymphomaniacs? 'Cause I think you're it."

"Only because of you."

"Rubbish!"

"OI! YOU TWO COMING OR NOT?"

"DON'T YOU DARE ANSWER THAT, POTTER, OR I'M GOING TO THROW UP!"

"Yeah, sick with envy, probably..."

"'Arry!" Gavin took his wrist and slapped it. It probably wouldn't have hurt any more if he hadn't had gloves on at the time.

"No, I'm sorry, he asked for that."

"T' be fair... I agree, but still. Behave."

"Well I tell you one thing, I'd better be well-rewarded."

By the time they were making their way towards the Hughes household's front gate, Draco was feeling deeply uncomfortable. He had dressed down, as George suggested, and was wearing his oldest pair of jeans (which were barely a year old anyway) and a plain black sweater that he had been forced to watch in horror as George and proceeded to 'rough up' and stretch in various places before handing it back to him and forcing him to put it on over the only plain white t-shirt he owned. He felt marginally like a tramp. And feeling like a tramp when you need to feel your most confident in a building full of people who very possibly hate you, is not particularly conducive to optimism. He almost wanted to run away when Fred reached out to ring the bell, and must have looked fitfully around him because George gave his hand a quick squeeze and offered him a reassuring wink. It helped, a little. At least he wasn't alone.

A familiar-looking Ravenclaw wearing square glasses and a grey-blue tank top over a striped shirt opened the door, grinning.

"Ah! The Gryff party!" he said brightly, "Come in, make yourselves at home! Drink in the kitchen, bathrooms on the other side of the utility room and on the right at the top of the stairs; bag and coats can go in the utility as well and I would be much obliged if you could keep smoking to the patio, which is heated for you comfort, ayethankyew." He beamed and bowed, a mess of large fair curls bouncing merrily.

"He's one of your friends, then," Draco whispered to George, who made a strange rasping snort as he tried to suppress a giggle.

"He's like Perce with a sense of humour..." he whispered back.

The others filed in to the hallway smiling and saying hello as they started to unwrap scarves and un button coats. Draco resolved to keep his chin up and not allow himself to show how uncomfortable he felt. He had as much right to be there as anyone else.

Oscar gave him an odd look as he walked in; it wasn't hostile at all, but perhaps curiously surprised to see him there. The Ravenclaw glanced over at Ron and then gave an amicable grin, holding out his hand to shake.

"Malfoy. Pleasure to have you with us, my friend. Pleasure. If anyone plans on falling off the back veranda I'll get them to give you a heads-up first, shall I?"

Taken rather aback by the reception, Draco did little other than shake the proffered hand shortly and say, "Provided it's not Millicent Bulstrode."

Oscar gave a gasp of delighted scandal and said muttered, "Brilliant! Fantastic! This way ladies and gentlemen, please," ushering them into the living room, "this way please..."

The living room was already quite busy. It was large enough for three sofas and a scattering of large bean bags, and opened out into the conservatory. About twenty people lounged around, chatting and laughing while some fashionable Muggle music played in the back ground. This all ceased almost instantaneously as Draco walked in, and he could feel their eyes on him like a particularly heavy overcoat.

There was almost enough time for an uncomfortable silence to fall before their host bounded in front of them and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, guys and dolls, can we have a little round of applause for our resident hero, please? No, no, Potter, not you - haha!" He dragged Draco out from where he was desperately trying to hide behind George, growing more and more mortified by the second, and continued, "Mr Draco Malfoy, people. Well, come on! This guy saved a man's life, you miserable bastards!"

There was another uncomfortable pause before a Hufflepuff from over in the corner got up and walked over, handing his drink to someone on the way. Draco half expected a smack in the mouth, and was deeply relieved when instead he took his hand and clapped him heavily on the shoulder and said, "Nice one, Malfoy. Can I get you a drink?"

Following his obvious and deliberate lead, someone else called "Well done, mate," and a few sparse claps were offered, and slowly the mood in the room returned to what it had been before, more or less. But now everyone was talking about more or less the same thing.

"Hm," Oscar muttered with obvious surprise, "They didn't exactly run with that, did they?"

The temptation to snap "No shit?" was great, but Draco suppressed it, for fear of losing the one genuine ally he appeared to have outside of their own party.

"Where do you want us to put the booze, Osc, old chum?" George asked, having plucked the crate out of mid-air at the door and lugged it into the living room himself, leaving Harry to deal with his cloak.

"Oh, you can stick that in the fridge or somewhere. I'd hide it, though, it'll be gone before nine, otherwise. You could even stick it in the larder, actually...Follow me."

He led the way into the kitchen and Draco was the first to follow, glad to be away from the heavy atmosphere of the living room. He cast George an uncomfortable look, and received a wink of "Don't worry" in return. It did nothing to reassure him of a spontaneous about-face and sudden wave of people falling on their knees to worship him, but it reminded him that he had a true friend amid the hoards; that helped.

In the hallway, Harry, Ron and Hermione had off-loaded their coats to Gavin and Simon, who obligingly went to stash them in the utility and find drinks, and made themselves comfortable away from the crowd in the living room. The night was still young and if they didn't catch up sooner there would be far too many people around later to have a proper conversation anyway.

"So, then her dad goes, 'Glad to know you're okay, Ron' and I just totally thought he said 'Glad to know you're gay' which I seemed a bit weird, and everything, and said, 'Oh - no... that's Harry.'"

"You git!"

"Well, I just thought she'd told him about you! How was I to bloody know he'd said 'okay'? Never occurred to me that if she'd said that to them it might be so they didn't go mad about me staying. I was nervous enough as it was!"

Hermione, sitting on the stair below Ron while Harry leaned against the foot of the banisters, patted his knee and sighed, "And it all went down-hill from there, really. I'm not sure I'll ever look at a can of whipped cream quite the same again..."

"Look, that bloody cat was going to go for me! It was the only defence I had!"

"Well, I must say I've never seen any cat look quite so shocked in my life before... It was rather funny. I wish we had had a camera to hand..."

"So you covered her pussy in squirty white stuff in front of her parents?" Harry chuckled, expertly dodging a horrified slap from Hermione, "You had a good time, then? Got through it relatively unscathed..."

"Hardly!"

"Well, there was an incident involving a mince pie puppet and a cocktail sausage."

"I didn't know they were there! We thought they'd turned in for the night!"

"I think poor Daddy almost suffered heart failure."

"I'm never going to look at a mince pie without cringing again, am I?"

"I tell you what," Harry replied, grimacing, "I'm never going to look at a mince pie again!"

"Yeah...I like mince pies an' all... Whatever you do, though, please, please don't mention it to the Twins. I'll wake up with a load of them shoved down my pyjamas or something..."

Tucked around the corner, out of sight, Fred and Gina gave each other wickedly triumphant looks and went to find the food.

"How was your Christmas, Harry? Your letters were rather hurried... I could hardly read parts of it. That'll count against you in exams, you know. If they can't read your answers they might not give you all your marks."

"Yeah, I know... I was just in a rush to get everything out and get you two up here," he shrugged, hoping to avoid a lecture. "If I'm honest, things have been really... messed up. I went down to -" he leaned back and looked around to check that no one was listening "- Gavin's so early on that it felt like I had the whole holiday with nothing to do. Drac wasn't even around then, was he? But I came back and suddenly George is at the Shack all the time, Fred's got Gina Coleraine on his arm and the only people I've got to talk to are Sirius and Moony. Who, by the way, are on a dirty weekend away together."

The other two gave him matching looks of astonishment for entirely different reasons.

"What," Ron spluttered, "You mean... Sirius and - and Lupin?!"

"Yep."

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't know?" Hermione asked with a pitying inflection to her voice. "Really. You ought to pay attention once in a while..."

"Oh, come on, Mione! Sirius Black? The man used to have a motorbike!"

"Oh, I'm sorry - I wasn't aware that that was a viable measurement of heterosexuality Ron. Apparently I should be going out with Bill or Charlie and you should be seeing him, instead." She gestured to Harry with an exasperated eye roll. "I really would have thought, after all you've seen this year - "

"What?! Shut up! I'm straight! Harry's not my type anyway! He's a rubbish ki- er... He's my best mate! That's disgusting! And if you ever suggest that again, I'm dumping you."

"I bet he's a better kisser that you are. And I don't even want to imagine how you think you know that."

Ron muttered darkly something that sounded like, "I imagine he's had more practise..."

"Oh yes," Hermione said, regarding Harry with appraising suspicion and folding her hands neatly in her lap, "I'm sure you have some updating to do as well, Harry..."

Harry immediately felt himself turn red. "Like what?"

"How was you trip to Wales?"

"Er..."

"She's asking if you shagged him."

"Ron! Shh! If someone finds out about us - !"

"Whatever..."

"Think of Rita Skeeter! All I need is for someone to find out and there'll be headlines like, 'Boy Who Lived Takes It Up Arse From Teenage Quidditch Stud' or - "

He nearly jumped out of his skin as a small cough announced a paper cup of butterbeer and he turned to see a drily amused Simon Wood on the other end of it.

"Yeh know, if yeh carry on like that, I'd say people finding out is a fairly reasonable assumption."

Behind him, an exceedingly red-faced Gavin slid down the wall to sit on the floor in apparently insurmountable mortification. Ron just looked like he might faint.

"Ahem. If yeh'll all excuse me, I have a nice, normal girlfriend to go and see. Weasley - your drink." The Scot handed Ron the paper cup and turned to leave, stepping over his best friend and muttering, "Pull yerself t'gether, man."

Guiltily, Harry walked over and crouched beside the other boy, "You alright?" he asked, stroking his hair. Gavin nodded and swallowed, before offering a slightly mischievous smile that Harry read less like a book than a billboard poster, and replied, "Easy, girls present."

"Never mind her," Ron protested, "I'm present!"

Harry stood up and held out a hand to help the older boy to his feet. "Time to part ways for a bit?" he asked reluctantly.

"S'pose so," Gavin nodded. "Not too long, though?"

"Nah, not too long." He risked a quick kiss and immediately regretted it as the doorbell chimed loudly and an instant afterward Oscar bounded back in, crying, "Make way! Make way!" and apparently oblivious to the scene before him. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, the former having flopped on to her chest for comfort, and cried, "Oi-oi - keep it clean, this is a family establishment!"

Gavin looked suspiciously as though he was about to burst.

In the room that formed a convenient loop between the living room, kitchen and hallway was the dining room, where Draco now sat with George, who was talking to his Twin in a series of unfinished sentences about something Draco could only assume was linked to the abundance of mince pies he was forcing his girlfriend to collect in a make-shift basket in the front of her top.

"So he said...?"

"Uh huh, so we have to..."

"Oh. And then - ?"

"Uh-huh. Twice..."

"I SEE."

Feeling rather left out, as Gina appeared to be entirely in on the plot already, Draco asked, "Am I allowed in on this joke, or...?"

"Just feeding little Ronniekin's food fetish," Fred winked. "You'll love it, trust us."

"To be honest, anything that renders Fat Head and the know-it-all annoyed, uncomfortable or in moderate-high pain I'd probably enjoy."

"Ahh, I'm starting to see the attraction, now, Georgie."

"Fuck off."

"Right, stage two... C'mon, Gin."

They watched as the other two left, cackling quietly.

"Don't you mind?" Draco asked, looking at George as he leaned across the loaded table and picked up a cherry tomato. He continued to watch as he relieved a piece of cheese and a piece of pineapple of their connecting toothpick and proceeded to stab said tomato with relish, making high-pitched cries of agony in a Northern Irish accent. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Whose twin does she think he is, anyway?" George asked, finally spurting the wounded tomato's insides into the centre-piece punchbowl and chewing deliberately on the rest.

"That thought draws up the most disturbing mental images..."

"Yeah, I know - there could be two of her!"

"Why do you insist upon making it sound like you are sleeping with your brother, Pumpkin?"

It took several minutes and an eye-watering choking fit for George to dislodge the small piece of tomato from the back of his throat, at which point the promptly clipped Draco around the back of his head.

"Sod off, you sick, sick puppy!"

"What? I didn't accuse you, I just asked why you insist upon making it sound that way. You know as well as I do that rumours do not need any encouragement at school..."

"Well, how am I doing that?!"

"The level of jealousy towards his girlfriend, for a start. That is simply not normal. I'm sorry, but it's not. Unless you're just jealous that he's enjoying liaisons you are not for the precise reason that you are not."

"What? Leave it out, Snowflake..." George still looked rather red, and Draco wasn't entirely sure that it was connected to the choking fit any more.

"Are you? Are you jealous because Fred's enjoying a full and fruitful sexlife and all you have is little old me?" Draco leaned across the sausage rolls and took a glace cherry from the nearest Christmas cake. "I bet you are."

George gazed at him for a moment as if somewhat lost for words, before catching his wrist so he couldn't deface the cake any further.

Draco smirked at him, "Poor Georgie-Pumpkin," he teased, "all wound up and to one to go for." He leaned across with his other hand instead and snatched another cherry defiantly, before giving George a smug grin.

"That's the last time I give you booze at the start of an evening," the older boy complained, pulling back and staring at him. "You're going to be really difficult all night, now..."

"You bet I am. I'm going to have a good time tonight, because I bloody deserve it. They can be their prim little Ravenclaw selves if they want; I'm not."

George looked rather afraid as he rested his head in his hands and his elbows on the table, muttering, "Oh God..."

"What? You're supposed to be 'up for a laugh' wherever, whenever..."

"Hmmm."

"Come on, first things first: I intend to be absolutely paralytic by the time I leave here, so you'd better show me where you put the beer."

"No."

"You'll do as you're told, Weasley, or I'll be forced to accidentally tell everyone you're jealous of Paddy the Leprechaun because she's stealing your man."

George immediately made a grab for him, dragged him into his lap and splattered another innocent baby tomato into his forehead.

"Say it again, go on, Fairy Boy."

Gasping with shock and outraged disbelief, Draco grabbed a handful of tomatoes of his own and practically straddled the older boy's lap as he tried to retaliate in kind, but found himself restrained by both wrists, struggling to try and reach. "I'll teach you to - ow! Oh, Pumpkin! Stop!"

"Er, you know... that's probably not a very hygienic thing to be doing around food," Oscar said as he wandered through on the way to the kitchen. "At least find a bedroom, for God's sake..." He then appeared to realise who he was speaking to and did a double take. "Christ, Weasley, what is it with you and Quidditch players?"

"What?" Draco demanded, immediately righting himself and trying firmly to act as if nothing had happened.

Oscar gave him a sympathetic snort of laughter and said, "Well, it's a very homoerotic sport, really, isn't it?" and walked off into the kitchen.

Draco turned back to George for clarification, to find him rather red in the face and trying to arrange his scarf again, which for some reason he had chosen to keep on. "What was that all about?"

George sighed and stood up, muttering something about wood that Draco didn't quite catch, and made his way into the living room.

Harry was slouched on a beanbag on the floor next to an armchair Ron and Hermione were sharing. He wasn't paying much attention to the conversation because it had a tendency to reduce itself to bickering; that and the fact that Gavin, Simon, Bambi and some others had taken up a station directly opposite him. It was hard to concentrate on anything while Gavin was smiling at him entirely unsubtly over his friends' shoulders. Or, he had been until he had given Harry a playful glare, as if to say, "Stop distracting me, you!" and manoeuvred around so that he was on the other side of the circle, and now had his back to him. Which was even more distracting for Harry... He began to contemplate the prospect of grabbing the other boy and leaving early.

As an hour or two slipped by, Draco began to relax. This was, in part, due to the alcohol, but primarily because he and George were having fun - and no one had attempted to burn him at the stake so far.

There was a boy, across the room, who had been giving him small smiles half the evening. Draco didn't think he knew him, but had started to wonder if perhaps he should. He had the idea that the boy was (yet another) Ravenclaw, but unlike Cross and Wood, in Draco's own year. He probably shared a couple of his classes, even... Maybe he was just being friendly.

He returned his attention to George as the older boy got up and said he'd get them a drink, before bounding off into the kitchen, already slightly merry himself. He seemed to be enjoying himself, too. He was smiling a lot, which Draco was pleased about, because he doubted George would be grinning if he'd rather be off doing something (or someone, for that matter) elsewhere.

It only came as a mild surprise when the Ravenclaw sat himself down in George's seat and said, "Hi."

"Hi," Draco replied warily, not sure what the grounds for this approach were.

"I'm Wil, I don't think we've really spoken before."

"No, I don't think we have."

"Well, pleased to officially meet you, then," the Ravenclaw said, offering the wrong hand for him to shake. Draco shook it awkwardly with the right one. Wil suppressed a smile a little, which gave him a slightly bashful air that Draco rather liked. He started to feel more at ease. "So, how come you chose to spend New Year here?" he asked, "Not that I mean to pry - "

Draco gave a small shrug and said, "Well, you know how it is, I had so many things I could be doing..." he paused for comedic effect "...suicide, watching paint dry... that I thought I'd go with the simplest and stay home, but Weasley wouldn't let me."

Wil gave a laugh and sipped his drink, leaning sideways against the sofa. "You're staying with Harry Potter now, aren't you?"

"Alas, yes. You seem to know an awful lot about me for someone I have only just met."

"Well," the other boy blushed a little, "there has been a lot in the newspapers, recently. It's difficult not to hear things..."

Draco quirked an eyebrow and replied, "Yes, I should imagine."

"I, um... I'm sorry to hear about your parents. I know this is entirely not the time to talk about it, but still - I just wanted to say that you have my condolences."

Quietly, Draco cleared his throat and said, "Thank you."

"I nearly lost my mother in the Halloween attacks; the past few weeks haven't been entirely happy ones." He gave a small, pained smile and returned to his drink quickly, before resolutely adding, "But it's New Year - no time to be miserable! Do you have any resolutions planned? Or is that too personal a question? Don't feel obliged if it is... I've been here since quarter to seven and I'm quite into the sauce, I'm afraid!"

Draco gave a laugh himself and said, "Join the club... but I think that was my main plan for this evening: to get entirely what George would call 'shit-faced' and force him to carry me back to the cottage."

"Really?" Wil asked, "Are you very close, then? I'd heard rumours - "

"Oh - stuff the rumours! I'm sick of other people's opinions!"

Abashed, the Ravenclaw continued, "Well, I was just going to say that your families were far from friendly..."

"Oh. Well, no... they weren't. They're not. I can't stand the prat I caught at the Quidditch match, but Pumpkin-head's alright."

The other boy laughed again. "Are you sure you're not one of them? That's a bit noble for a Slytherin, isn't it? Risking life and limb for someone you can't stand?"

"Well," Draco replied, casting a glance at Harry as he gave an entirely unsubtle nod of 'come here' to Cross, "sometimes you have to make sacrifices to take the king." Or in your case, Potter, the Queen. "Greater scheme of things, and all that."

"I see. So is there a master plan I'm missing or...?"

"No, I just owed someone something, that's all."

"It must've been a pretty serious debt."

"Hm, possibly. But if you're going to do something you may as well do it thoroughly."

"Oooh, matron," Wil laughed, tapping Draco's shoulder with the back of his hand.

"If I was sober I'd lecture your for hours on that."

"Be my guest...I can spare the time."

"Do you Ravenclaws think about nothing but education? 'Ooh, lecture me, baby!' I bet you lot use that sort of thing as a chat-up line, don't you?"

Wil gave another laugh and looked away shyly for a moment. When Draco smirked at him, he shifted a little nearer.

In the kitchen doorway, George was debating what to do with the two drinks in his hands. It didn't look as though Draco and his new friend particularly wanted to be interrupted. He returned to the kitchen and slid one bottle across the worktop to Fred who was loitering in there with Gina.

"What's up?" Fred asked, catching the bottle and watching as George leaned back against the sink and shrugged, raising the bottle to his lips. He frowned a little bit and immediately shifted nearer. "Georgie?"

Silently, George returned the frown and shook his head.

"Is it - ?" he nodded towards the living room door.

"It's fine. Honestly."

"What's fine?" Gina asked, moving over to them and uncapping a bottle of ale with her teeth.

"Nothing," George replied impatiently. "I'll just give it a few minutes, that's all."

Fred stared at him for a moment, and glanced at the door back to the living room. He hesitated for a moment, before turning and going over to look outside.

"I see."

"Look, just leave it, Fred. It's fine. Seriously."

Fred gave him an appraising 'Hmm' and leaned back against the small island worktop instead, mirroring his brother's arms-folded stance perfectly. "You just going to let it go?"

"There's nothing to let go!" George replied impatiently.

"You're not talking to just anyone, Georgie, you're talking your big bwuv, right, so cut the crap."

George gave him a slightly dejected look and shook his head, "Yeah, so you know there's nothing to let go, then..."

"Excuse me," Gina interrupted, moving to stand right next to them, "You know - non-twin, here, wants to know what the hell we're talking about."

"Yeah, well, Twin Stuff, here, none of your business," George replied in a half-mimic of her accent.

"Hey - I'm just tryin' to help, y'know..."

"Well there's nothing to help, alright!"

"So why are you tantruming like a big girl, then? It's meant t' be some fat chick sitting in the corner crying at parties, stupid."

George clenched his fist under his arm to keep from slapping her one. "Look a bit cosy, don't they?" he asked Fred instead.

"A bit," his brother shrugged, "nothing that can't be disrupted."

"No - no, don't go doing that... it wouldn't be fair."

"Since when have you cared about fair?" Fred smirked, but quickly dropped it when he realised his brother wasn't prepared to return it. "George, why don't you just take the drinks and go back in there?"

"Oh c'mon, Fred - does it look like I'm needed, particularly?"

"Yeah, well, who was it harping on about appearances being deceptive the other day, eh? Go on."

"Look, I've said no, okay...?"

"Fine." Fred turned, digging his wand out of his pocket and looked out through the door again. The two boys were sitting together, laughing. It did look cosy and it did look like it needed to be broken up; soon. It was a nonchalant little action, but it served its purpose: he gave his wand a little flick and deposited the remainder of the Ravenclaw's drink all down his front. He turned, quickly and winked at his Twin before sidling back to appear entirely innocent.

George stared at him. "What did you do?"

"I broke it up."

"Fucking hell, Fred, if you've upset him, I'll kill you!"

"Which says it all, really, doesn't it?"

"I can't - " he stopped and glared at Gina before looking back at Fred and continuing, "You know I can't."

"You think too much. Just get out there with the drinks, will you?"

"Do you have any idea how unfair that was?"

"Yeah. Poor Wilfred. Now get the fuck out there."

"I don't think there's much point... Malfoy's just gone out down the garden."

The Twins exchanged looks of alarm.

"With Wil Rider-Digby?"

"No, on his tod."

"George, get your coat and fuck-off."

George gave his brother a half-annoyed, half-grateful look and dashed out through the utility room, completely forgetting their coats in his hurry.

As soon as Will had disappeared from sight, Draco made a break for the garden. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying the other boy's company - on the contrary, he was pleasantly surprised to find that not all Ravenclaws used apparently photographic memories to fritter away study time on canoodling with underage Gryffindors - but he was starting to feel a little suffocated. It was all a little too much. Draco was not as naïve as certain people assumed; he knew when someone was coming on to him. It made him wonder, as he stepped out onto the magically heated patio where small groups or couples loitered, if there was an entire gay underground at Hogwarts that someone had not seen fit to tell him about. Which would be ironic, seeing as George thought he was the campest thing since the invention of the tent.

He made his way through an arch in winter-rosed trellis, and into the darkened wilderness beyond. The moon was surprisingly bright. Not full for a few days, yet, but certainly bright enough that he could make out the forms of wild-looking plants, arranged to give the impression of an untamed cottage garden. They encroached upon the gently sloping pathway he followed, forcing him to brush past them as he made his way along the slightly shimmery surface, spotted with the remains of the snow. It was broken into sections; benches were tucked away along its length, in shaded confines between scented bushes blossoming out of season and from further down, he could hear the sound of water - he followed it, wondering where it was coming from.

Ahead of him, when he thought he must be some two or three hundred feet from the house, he finally saw it. A large walled pond with a central granite mermaid holding an over-flowing water pitcher reflected the moon in its surface. Draco hesitated for a moment, then stepped up to the edge. The wall was above waist-height for him...he wondered why they had made it so high as he dipped his fingers into the water.

"I can sing if you wish."

The voice startled him, and he looked up in alarm. The mermaid was smiling at him, fluttering eyelashes as if she thought it would encourage him.

"Er... no. I'm quite alright, thank you," he said, and turned to lean against the wall. When he looked over his shoulder, she seemed to have settled back into her statuesque pose, and he tugged himself up to sit on the ledge with relief.

It was cold outside. He wondered if Will had noticed his departure yet; he wondered, again, where the Hell his supposed friend had disappeared to and why he had abandoned him for so long. Git. He'd only agreed to go to the party because George had promised to stay with him.

He's probably off crammed into a closet with some unsuspecting Hufflepuff. Draco almost laughed at the thought, but it was slightly bitter. If George really had deserted him for a quick grope with someone else he'd be absolutely furious. If he was honest, he didn't really think George would do that to him. He was probably with his brother and the Irish freak.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. He was starting to get a little bored of them, really, but if he tried to suppress the urge it became as frustrating as being desperate for a snack or unable to reach an itch.

He was staring at the silvery blades of grass forcing their way in through mismatched slabs of slate, trying to establish quite how drunk he was - which was difficult without any real reference points - when a shadow cast itself across the stone. It glided forward slowly, stretching out, and Draco followed it with his eyes, travelling in the opposite direction.

George tutted and sauntered over to him shaking his head. He snatched the cigarette out of the younger boy's mouth and held it out of his reach, saying, "These things'll ruin your love life you know..." he took a quick drag and held it out of Draco's reach again, and Draco flailed for it and reached up so high he nearly slipped off the wall altogether - and would have done, had George not leaned forward and pinned him there, squashed against it - and yet still couldn't reach.

When George laughed at him, the smoke issued from the sides of his mouth and for a moment he looked like a Chinese Red about to snap a deer in half with its jaws.

"That said, it doesn't seem to deter Wil Rider-Digby that much..." He flicked the cigarette into the pond, where it floated miserably.

"Would you like me to sing for you now?" the mermaid asked with a delighted, subservient giggle.

"No."

The water feature gave a dejected little hm and settled back down.

Draco was about to complain that his smoking was nothing to do with George, when it occurred to him that he was squashed against a wall being held in place by nothing except the Gryffindor himself. He looked up at him with some semblance of irritation, but at the indulgently smug smirk on the other boy's face he gave up all intention of attempting complaint or wit and tried to shuffle back on to the wall. George allowed him to struggle a bit before chuckling at him, scooping his hands underneath Draco's backside and lifting him back onto it. He pulled his hand away and immediately sucked at two of his knuckles.

"Ow."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing much," George shrugged, shaking his hand, "just grazed my fingers on the wall, that's all."

Draco snatched at his hand and help it close to his face. "It's nothing, you big baby."

"No, I can see that, but it bloody hurt... What are you doing out here, anyway?"

The blond boy shrugged and tilted his head almost on to his shoulder. George mirrored his actions and demanded, "What, Snowflake?"

"Nothing."

Humouring him, George shrugged and said, "Fair enough."

There was only a very short pause before Draco caved and asked, "Do you really think he's interested in me?"

"Who?" George wasn't actually sure why he bothered asking that, but he supposed it staved off the inevitable.

"Wil..."

He gave a small laugh and pulled back slightly. "Yeah, it's obvious."

The younger boy nodded, and seemed to be waiting for this to sink in.

"Interested, are we?" George asked teasingly.

Draco grimaced at him and replied, "Not especially."

"How come? He's not bad looking, he's pureblood, he's New Money, admittedly, but at least you know he's not just after your stash..."

"I don't know..." Draco shook his head with an uncharacteristically clumsy motion and said, "I'm just not, I suppose... not very much."

George regarded him with knowing dubiousness; "Harry."

A pair of flashing silvery eyes scowled up at him. "No."

"Oh my God! It hasn't happened? You haven't finally got over him, have you?" he asked in false surprise.

"Stop it, Pumpkin..." He sounded dimly defeated and somewhat confused.

"You all right?"

"Oh yes, yes, probably..." Draco told him dismissively, wafting at the air with his hand. George caught it, grabbed the other one and held them both still so that they couldn't flap at him.

"Are you having a good time?" he asked sternly, trying to catch a proper look into the younger boy's eyes to try and judge quite what he was thinking and exactly how inebriated he had become.

"Hm... yes..." Draco shrugged. "It would probably help a bit if I didn't have to watch Harry and Cross fawning over each other from the other side of the room in a transparent attempt at being something close to normal, but aside from that... more or less." He paused. "I'm getting better at this, actually... I only want to break one chair over Cross's head, now."

George rolled his eyes and sighed heavily at him, "When will you learn not to waste so much bloody energy on all that anger? It's like you've got this little piston engine firing away all the time... Can't you just shut up for a minute and try not think about Harry and how much you'd like to smack his boyfriend?"

Draco looked at him doubtfully, "I could try."

"Good..."

"I don't enjoy it..."

"I'm starting to wonder about that, you know..."

Draco stared up at him again, apparently intending to say something else. Instead he shrugged and looked down at the hands holding his wrists. There were serpentine knots tying themselves in George's stomach, but he ignored them and said the same thing he said every day, "Snowflake, there are plenty more fish in the sea, you know?"

"Yes, I do..."

"Ones without boyfriends you can't stand. Ones with more things in common with you than Harry... Ones who can make their bloody mind up..."

The Slytherin glanced up at him before sighing and shrugging and said, "I know... but I hardly know him."

"Who?"

"Who do you think?"

"Oh. Yeah... right..."

"In theory, I should be perfectly happy to abuse the idiot's friendliness. I've had enough practise..."

"But?"

"But..." Draco continued, awkwardly, as if he didn't like to admit it, "I wouldn't like to think I was doing to someone else what bicycle-face has been doing to me. There is underhand, conniving deviousness... and there is below the belt. I'm not sure I believe in 'by any means necessarily' right at this moment."

"What if you had a willing collaborator?"

"Don't be stupid. I may have seen the error of certain ways, but I don't exactly have a social death wish. I'm in enough of a predicament already, without asking the son of the Head of Leisure and Tourism to be a convenient distraction from the fact-- Oh, stuff Potter! I don't want to talk about him anymore..."

It took quite a bite to George's tongue for him to suppress the words, "Makes a change."

"Besides," Draco continued, apparently oblivious, "he's too studious. Interesting, yes, but I get the feeling his Ancient Runes project is going to turn into one of those life-long sagas that all lecturers seem to fall into making their life's work. I refuse to come second to a bag of pebbles."

Draco sank forward and pressed his face into George's shoulder in either exhaustion or despair; George let go of his wrist and wrapped an arm around his shoulders supportively.

"Maybe," he began in loaded tones a deaf highland cow couldn't fail to understand, "you're not looking to the right people, then..."

"Who else is there? You're the only friend I have. None of the others can stand me and I've been excommunicated from my own house!"

"Take off the blinkers, dunderhead."

"I don't want to. I'm too disturbed by the prospect of what I may see..."

Uncomfortably, George patted him on the shoulder and pulled back again. "I guess," he shrugged, "it's best some things go unseen, isn't it?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Can we go inside? It's a bit cold out here."

Draco stared at him and realised for the first time he wasn't even wearing his jumper. "You utter moron, Weasley! What are you trying to do, freeze yourself to death?"

"Not originally, no... I was just looking for you. It seemed quite important at the time..."

Draco looked up at him questioningly; "Why?"

"I was in a rush... we weren't sure where you'd gone or anything..."

"I see," Draco shrugged stiffly.

"Come on," George said, stepping back to allow Draco to jump down off the wall, but Draco held out both arms like a child expecting to be carried, so he stepped nearer again and rolled his eyes, tutting, before picking him up. He paused for a minute, looking at him, and Draco looked back, feeling as though there was something he was meant to say at this point - something they were both subconsciously waiting for. But instead, George gave him a half smile and dropped him back on to the snow, gently, before leading the way back up to the house.

"Hi, Potter," a soft, Welsh voice said over Harry's shoulder and made him smile so half his Hobgoblin dribbled down his chin.

"Cross," Harry replied, smiling wryly and nodding. And wiping his mouth. "How are you doing?"

"Bored," the older boy sighed and moved around the sofa to drop down beside him.

"It's almost half ten," Harry said quietly, "give it a bit... we'll go home."

"We can' jus' leave!" Gavin laughed. "Don' you think people's gonna notice?"

"They can't prove anything," Harry replied, mischievously, hardly above a whisper.

Gavin opened his mouth to answer when a pair of Hufflepuff girls appeared, one throwing herself down on to the sofa on Harry's other side.

"Hiya!" she said merrily, her cheeks rosy from the alcohol.

Harry glanced at Gavin before staring at her in bemusement for a minute and saying, "Er... hello."

"Happy New Year!"

"Um... yeah."

"Are you having a good time?" the girl asked, smiling and shifting to sit much closer.

"Yeah, thanks."

"So, who are you kissing at midnight?"

"Gavin," Harry said immediately, and laughed. So did both the girls. Gavin gave a nervous chuckle.

"No, seriously... because if you haven't found anyone..."

"Oh. Right... er..."

"Och, th' last thing yeh want teh be doin' is kissin' him!" Simon's voice said as he leaned heavily over the back of the chair. "Weren' yeh jes' sick, Harry?"

Gavin looked up at his best friend in surprise and said, "Oh. Oh yeah - all over. Proper nasty, it were."

The girls recoiled slightly and looked at each other, while Harry pulled a deliberately nauseous face.

Both girls made a very quick exit.

"And Wood saves the day again."

"Aye, well, it's not like yeh gimme a choice."

"Sorry, mate," Gavin said, giving him a grateful smile. "Ach'ly, we were jus' thinking' tha' maybe we shoul' go back soon..."

Simon gave him a suspicious look. "Oh yeh did, did yeh?"

"Well, y'know how it is..."

"No, Gavin, and neither d' I wanteh."

"You're coming back to mine later, aren't you?"

"Hm, well, don' think I'll have a lotta choice, seein' as I've had the spend half th' evening babysitting this one," he sighed, patting Gavin on the top of the head. "'Bel's not in a good mood anyways... Girlstuff, apparently."

"Oh, gross!"

"Aye, console yerself wi' the fact it's not a concern yeh'll ever have teh face. From either side."

"I have," Gavin muttered darkly. "'S no wonder I ended up...er... yeah."

Harry patted his knee, glad that the room was mostly deserted, "Suits me."

Simon groaned and stood up straight, "You two're disgraceful. Yeh're a bloody lad, Gavin, can't yeh go back the actin' like it, yeh soppy bastard? And you, Potter! Stop corruptin' th' man! He were perfectly blokey before you. Well. I say 'perfectly'... what I actually mean is 'just about', but at least it were something!"

Gavin laughed and reached over the back of the chair to thump him, and missed.

It struck Harry then, just how true that was. Gavin had always been one of the boys as far as Harry could tell. He was friendly and pleasant, Harry already knew that, but he seemed to have been so much more boisterous and laddish, before. After he and Harry got together, he seemed to change, slowly. If he thought back he could probably even pin-point specific things that indicated the change more clearly. But Harry didn't mind. As he watched the older boy laughing and flushed in the cheeks he felt such a rush of adoration for him that it was difficult not to throw himself upon him right there. Maybe they should leave sooner, rather than later.

Somewhere downstairs a voice yelled out that they were going to play a game of spin-the-bottle-Truth-or-Dare and the rest of the room cleared immediately. Simon watched everyone leave with interest and said, "I hope yehs know I cannae leave yeh here."

"Oh, what?" Harry laughed, "Come off it, Simon..."

"Nope. I have a moral obligation not teh let the man embarrass himself in public."

"Fine, then there's only one thing for it." Harry playfully slapped the side of Gavin's arse as he half-knelt on the sofa, "Get your coat, Gav, you've pulled."

Gavin chuckled and said, "Y' wanna go?"

"No, I'm feeding you bad chat up lines for the sake of it."

"'Kay," he grinned and climbed to his feet.

Simon gave a reluctant groan and raised his hand to his head, "Oh man... yeh know, on second thoughts, I think I saw quite an inviting bench out there..."

"Well you can always come back with the others later. In fact, can you come back with the others, later?"

"Yes, yes, I think I c'n manage it," the Scot nodded, grimacing. "I'm getting frightening enough images wi' out sound effects."

They slipped out more or less unnoticed, just giving Hermione a brief wave of acknowledgement so there was no panic when they 'vanished', and made their way up the winding slope back to school. There were a few people milling around outside the town's two most popular pubs as they passed through, but the rest of the lane was isolated and picturesque in the pale blue of the moonlight on snow. They walked with their arms around each other, as soon as they were confident no one was watching. Just like anyone else would. When they got in, instead of dashing straight upstairs and jumping into bed, as Simon had evidently assumed, they lit the fires in both downstairs hearths and pottered around making hot chocolate (with a liberal amount of cherry liqueur in) and buttered crumpets.

For a couple of minutes, while the crumpets were toasting, they sat by the kitchen hearth and Harry climbed on to Gavin's lap for a cuddle. It was so nice to be alone. Back in Wales they had had one night where they were reasonably free from interruption, but they had both been so nervous - and eager - that night that just having space hadn't been a priority. None of the others would be back for a couple of hours yet, and regardless of any intentions of sexual activity, they had somewhere where they could sit and talk and be cosy without anyone telling them they were soft or soppy.

There was no one to be dismissive of their feelings. Harry was pleased about that. It was starting to grate a little.

They took their snacks and settled in the living room, curled up on the sofa with Harry slouched against Gavin's side. And they talked - about everything and nothing, from getting butter out of fabric when Harry dropped one of his crumpets on the sofa to whether Winchester or Glossop would win the league and, briefly, Harry's parents. Harry always found a way to include them, somehow.

When they finally got up to go to bed - and Gavin insisted on washing up before they did, because that's what his mum always did and always told him it was bad luck to leave things unfinished, so you couldn't start the day afresh - they made the effort to wash and brush their teeth and then climbed in together and settled down peacefully.

They didn't do much, at first. They carried on random conversations, and eventually, when it seemed like a good time, Harry apologised for his behaviour. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him. Gavin was irreplaceable; Harry was starting to think that they were meant for each other, and he didn't even really believe in things like that. He couldn't imagine anyone else tolerating his insensitive behaviour the way Gavin did, or being so boyish and yet so good-hearted and kind. Gavin understood the Family Thing, too. They talked about that quite a lot. Gavin knew things about Harry's childhood that even Sirius and Remus didn't, and sometimes he didn't know what to say, because his upbringing had been out in the West, by the sea, for the most part, and with a loving family who desperately wanted children and he couldn't relate - but he tried, and he listened. And he was just as fallible as anyone else, which just made him all the more human. Harry loved him to pieces and he knew he was on to one hell of a Good Thing; it was just that sometimes he needed reminding.

Kissing the side of his neck and sliding a hand down the front of his boxers was actually a fairly good way of reminding him; it seemed that Gavin was starting to realise that.

"WHY DID YOU LET ME DO IT?"

"Because you said it was your purpose for the evening, Party Boy," George said scooping a hand under Draco's arms and steadying him on his feet, lest he should skid over on the compacted snow again.

"That's no excuse and you know it," Draco replied, slurring petulantly.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Just warn me if you're going to throw up or something so I can drop you."

"Don't you dare! No one'll want me with bruises all over my arse!"

"One, you underestimate people's kinks, mate; two, if they get close enough to see your arse I think that a bruise is the last thing they'll be bothered about."

"Well... perhaps. Yeah...yeah, perhaps, Pumpkin..."

"I bet Wil wouldn't mind your poor, bruised little botty."

"Who says he'll get to see it?" Draco wrapped both his arms around the older boy from half way behind him, and allowed George to half-drag him up the slope.

"Well, you looked pretty cosy, if you ask me."

"What," Draco demanded impatiently, "so I can't talk to people without it being some disreputable precursor to debauchery?"

"Not all blokes are as prudish as you, y'know. In fact, you'd get a right reputation if everyone knew."

"I AM NOT FRIGID!"

"I am, it's bloody freezing out here."

"Really, really UNFUNNY, PUMPKIN!"

George reached back and wrapped an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tight. "You love it."

Draco grumbled incoherently.

"You're not going to remember a moment of this in the morning, are you?" George asked, glancing down at him. "And then I get to tell you all sorts of stories about what you got up to and hold it against you for the rest of your life, don't I?"

"You can bloody try..."

"Trust me, I will."

Draco gave another indistinct grumble and muttered, "I don't doubt it for a minute..."

By the time they stumbled in through the kitchen door Draco had regained control enough to be almost dignified and was actually feeling just a little belligerent. George still decided that drinking a ridiculously large glass of water and about a pint of coffee was in order, and eventually pinned him down on the table and threatened to pour the water down his throat by force if he didn't get on with it. Draco wisely chose to give in, but not without considerable complaint. The Gryffindor proceeded to rummage through the cupboards and make him a ham sandwich, apparently to 'absorb some of that booze'. Draco's observations that if he wanted to do that he should have absorbed it before he diluted it fell on deaf ears.

When he stood up to go to the bathroom he tripped over his own feet and was only saved from breaking his nose on the stone floor because George grabbed the back of his jumper and pulled. Instead, he ended up crumpling to his knees and crouching there laughing. George laughed, too, and called him a daft git, before standing over him and heaving him up under his arms.

"What have you done to me, Weasley?" Draco whined playfully.

"I haven't done anything! You did it yourself."

Draco slumped back against the older boy and tilted his head back as far as he could to look up at him. He started to slip, so George wrapped both arms across him and half-laughed, "Easy..."

Draco closed his eyes and relaxed so that George was holding almost all his weight. It felt quite nice. Warm. George tightened his grip and he could feel the older boy's breath over the side of his face.

"Drac, you alright?"

He nodded and took a deep breath.

"You know, you can't really stay like that forever..."

Draco rolled awkwardly, so that his face was crushed against George's chest and the older boy had to fumble quickly to keep hold of him before he slipped to the floor altogether. "Killjoy."

"Do you wanna sit down or something?" George asked, clearing his throat.

"No."

"Yes, you do, come on..." He tried to make him stand up or his own accord and move, but Draco refused.

"Don't, Pumpkin, 'm comfortable..."

He heard the older boy give a small huff of laughter, and then felt himself being heaved up into George's arms and dragged into the living room, before being dumped unceremoniously on to the sofa. He could feel George sit down beside him, lifting his legs up and dropping them back down across his lap. Draco opened one eye and squinted at him. George was absently stroking the top of his left foot; he couldn't quite remember taking his shoes off. It was soothing, anyway, and if he stayed there he thought he might actually fall asleep.

At that thought, he snapped both eyes open and sat up sharply. George jumped and dropped his hand. Draco didn't quite understand why, but he forgot to wonder when he found himself being tickled on his soles instead. Screeching with laughter, he clambered over and grabbed at George's hand, kneeling beside him and trying to prevent the older boy from tickling him. George was laughing and defeating him continually, so he writhed and flailed and eventually collapsed on to George's shoulder, breathlessly ordering him to stop. Draco didn't mind when one of George's hands came to rest on the small of his back or lightly clasping his hand. In fact, he hardly noticed where they were, just they were there, because it just seemed strangely appropriate.

And there was the breath again; much more ragged from laughing and a little faster. After a minute, he could feel the older boy's face move against his hair, and a careful, almost uncharacteristically hesitant, "Drac?"

"Hmm?"

"You... um..."

He felt the older boy let go of his hand and instead move to his shoulder, pushing him back slightly. Suddenly hyper-aware of everything and feeling every hair on his spine standing on end, Draco leaned back a bit and looked back at him languidly. George's lips looked a little bit dry and he had them half parted as if he was going to say something. Draco watched with interest for a moment, before suddenly blurting out, "Are you going to kiss me?"

George gave a small laugh, or maybe it was a gasp, it was so small Draco couldn't really distinguish, and asked, "What makes you say that?"

"I dunno... I thought you were going to, before..." he shrugged, scrunching his eyes up and blinking at him, trying to clear his vision properly. His mind didn't feel that drunk, but his body certainly did.

"Oh yeah?"

The hand on the small of his back was twitching.

Draco nodded. "A few times...In - in the garden...when we were fighting with the tomatoes... I just... I thought you would."

"What'd you reckon if I did?" George asked, neutrally, giving a slow nod.

"Yes."

"'Yes' what?"

Draco thought about answering, but gave up, closed his eyes and never actually remembered if he had been the one to lean in, or if George had actually taken the hint and pulled him down; all he remembered was climbing on to George's lap and being held there, and liking it, and liking the feeling of lips against his and a tongue against his own and not feeling quite so much of a child for a change.

He tried to move closer, kneeling either side of George's waist where he had slumped against the cushions, one hand on the older boy's shoulder, the other wedged between him and the sofa. George's hands had drifted to settle one on Draco's backside and one on the back of his neck, stroking through the fine blond hair at the nape. He liked it; he genuinely liked being touched like this. He hadn't much thought that he would - someone invading his personal space and letting them get to him, finding out his weaknesses before he really did - but crushed so close to him it felt like the best thing in the world. The warmth and the adrenalin and the intimacy. This was what Draco had been missing and he'd be damned if he was going to have it kept from him any longer! He pressed closer, cramming the last slivers of space out from between them; George pushed back and gave a small, deep-throated murmur, shifting against him and apparently trying to drag him closer.

He'd made him do that! Suddenly, Draco realised that he was shaking.

Carefully, he pulled away, and his lips felt damp and cold and George looked up at him with surprised, dilated eyes, as if he had just realised what was happening. They were both breathless and as Draco opened his mouth to speak, George began, "Drac, I think - "

Suddenly gripped with the certainty that George was about to tell him it was a misunderstanding, a mistake, and desperate to absolve himself of the obvious humiliation, Draco cut in, "You're right. You're completely right - you should go. You were supposed to go back once I was home. The others will be missing you." He climbed off of the older boy's lap and stood, awkwardly, turning to the kitchen and wiping his mouth awkwardly on his wrist.

"Right..." George said, flatly. "I suppose I should."

Draco nodded fervently, not even sure whether George was looking or not. What have I done? Suddenly he felt horribly sober.

"You going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure - ?"

"Yes, really."

He heard George give a sigh and concede, "Okay," before slipping past him into the kitchen to get his trainers and coat on again. Draco waited by the door, hugging himself uncertainly. Was this an example of things going very badly wrong? It felt like it. It felt so tense, so nerve-wracking. If he had got this wrong - if he lost George because of this...

His train of thought was cut off as George pulled his coat on and untangled his scarf, looking at him with a bemused half-frown. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he asked dubiously.

Draco nodded jerkily as an iron fist clenched itself around his stomach. You're just going to walk away, aren't you?

"'Kay," George sighed, and opened the kitchen door. He stopped on the threshold and turned to look at him, then, suddenly, he reached out and pulled Draco to him, firmly pressing their lips together once more. When he pulled away and ducked abruptly out into the garden, Draco felt as though something small and hot had exploded in his chest. Staggering slightly, he smiled to himself and shut the door, making his way toward the stairs.

He sank on to his bed in a vaguely delirious stupor. He - George - he and George! He wasn't sure he'd believe it if his lips weren't still numb and tingling. So many times he had thought that was about to happen; so many times he had feigned obliviousness or broke away from the opportunity. A nagging part of him had wanted to, but it seemed such a stupid idea that he hadn't let it happen all the times he thought it could have done. It went against all the roles they had formed for themselves. He was - he loved Harry - and George was his best friend. Until about five minutes ago. It was all broken, now, anyway. You didn't kiss your best friend and mean it and it not change things. Because he and George fitted and Draco enjoyed his company and if he couldn't have Harry... why shouldn't he try? If this was what George wanted, Draco was prepared - wanted - to try.

He stood up, still deep in thought and dragged his clothes off, not bothering to put his pyjamas on before he fell into bed. He curled up, bundling the covers into a ball he could bury his face into, and gave a sigh that surprised him by deteriorating into a giggle. He was happy. George liked him - liked him liked him - alright, so he'd panicked at first, but when George had turned back and kissed him goodbye at the door he thought that he wasn't wrong after all. George had wanted to kiss him. He couldn't wait to do it again.

When a loud cry sounded through the wall to Harry's room, he found he didn't even care that much, never mind the fact that it sounded somewhat pained. Not as much as he would have if his head wasn't full of red hair and freckles and hazel-green eyes that laughed so easily... and then there were the slightly chewed lips, that reminded him of the mouths on ancient Greek statues, and the slight feel of stubble. Draco would probably never have stubble worth mentioning, he realised. Harry probably wouldn't until he was about forty-eight, either. Draco's mind drifted again, trying to re-live every moment of the kiss, every point at which his body had been pressed close enough to feel the hardness of bones beneath their clothes and the very first moment when George's tongue had bumped against his own...

Draco's eyes flew open and he rolled onto his back gasping sharply. Maybe he shouldn't have thought about that in quite so much detail. He stared up into the dark, trying to think respectable thoughts; he failed, and started to feel deeply frustrated. It was his own fault. If he hadn't dwelt on it... He couldn't do anything about it - it would be utterly improper. Utterly, utterly improper. His fingers drummed themselves against his stomach. George wouldn't mind, though. God - he'd never actually know. But still, utterly improper. Utterly.

His father was right; he was weak, after all.

He woke up to the sound of voices downstairs. People were laughing, and there was the smell of bacon wafting up the stairs. Groggily, he sat up, throwing back the covers before half falling out of bed and scavenging across the floor for his pyjama bottoms. He dragged them on and in the absence of the matching top, he pulled on a t-shirt instead. Rubbing his face and taking a moment to straighten the worst of his hair in the mirror, he took a breath and headed downstairs.

Empty sleeping bags were strewn across the floor from where everyone else had already woken and apparently converged in the kitchen. He braced himself for coming face to face with George again, and felt his mouth try to pull into a smile, but he wouldn't let it. Not yet. Besides, he was half afraid that they'd be able to tell what they had done; what they'd done, what he'd done and the sort of scandalous dreams that it had induced

He opened the door to havoc. Gavin was in the process of burning his fingers as he plucked slices of toast out of the grill, Harry was showing off, flicking slices of bacon out of the pan and onto a plate, Gina was sitting of Fred's lap and squealing at him, Hermione was in the process of extricating herself from the rabble and Ron's grip to let in an owl that was tapping expectantly at the window and as they saw him enter, he was greeted by a round of cat-calls and cheers.

"Oi-oi, here he is! How was it, lover boy?"

Instantly, Draco felt himself turn crimson. "What?"

"Aww, yeh've made him go all shy!" Gina laughed, bowing over so her head almost rested on the table. "Poor sweetie!"

"It had to happen sooner or later..."

"What are you talking about?" Oh my God, what has he been saying?!

"Down to get him breakfast in bed, are you?" Harry asked, smirking at him.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, Draco, we all know - "

"Where's George?" he interrupted, just as Hermione untied her copy of the Daily Prophet and gasped.

Ron immediately turned to her, but the others continued to tease Draco. "Look, give it up, now, we know exactly where he is. Tell him to come down because you're not fooling - "

"WHERE - IS - HE?"

Everyone abruptly fell silent.

Fred blinked a few times before saying, "Well...we just thought he stayed here. Your light was out when we came in... we just...we assumed..." he glanced at Harry, looking somewhat confused, "Did you hear him come in?"

"Only when they first did. We could hear them talking..."

"Bu' no' much else..." Gavin conceded uncomfortably.

"We weren't really paying attention, to be honest..."

The Welsh boy blushed and mumbled, "'Arry wasn't feelin' too great..."

"My scar...You know how it is..."

Draco swallowed and said, starting to feel panic welling up inside him, "He left - he went back to the party - !"

"Did anyone see him?" Simon asked, quietly, looking around them.

A few people murmured 'no' and everyone shook their heads, except Ron and Hermione, who were both now reading the news paper, ashen-faced.

"THEN WHERE IS HE?!" Draco yelled, furious that no one had noticed. "HE COULD BE OUT THERE - DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW COLD IT WAS LAST NIGHT? HE COULD BE LYING IN A DITCH AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE!"

"Nah," Fred said, shaking his head without conviction, "Nah, if something had happened... I mean, I'd know."

"So where is he?" Draco demanded coldly.

Fred shook his head again, obviously having no idea.

It was only then that they realised Hermione was clinging onto Ron, crying. Harry rushed over to her and tried to help comfort her, asking, "Hermione, Hermione, what's wrong?"

Everyone fell silent again and gazed at her worriedly. Ron gazed at Harry for a moment with knitted brows, and handed him the paper. Emblazoned across the top, in large, black letters were the worlds, "RESOLUTION OF EVIL: TERROR AT PENDLE AS MUGGLES AND HALF-BLOODS BURNED AT STAKE"

Harry read out a few lines, heavily, "...it is believed that among the dead are up to a hundred children taken over night from homes in the Pendle area and an unknown number of Christian ministers from across the country. Eight ministry officials known for their Muggle sympathies have been reported missing."

"Dad!" Fred cried out, leaping to his feet and pushing Gina away in a panic.

"We'd have heard, wouldn't we?" Ron asked anxiously. "Mum would have flooed us - she knows where we are..."

"My dad - " Gina said, for once sounding scared, and clinging to Fred desperately, "my dad's a Catholic minister..."

Draco turned and made for the stairs.

"DRAC? Where are you going?"

"I don't have time for this," he replied, "While we're fussing over Muggles getting their just desserts we don't know where George is or what's happened to him. For all we know - " he stopped, mid-sentence, feeling his lip quake, and forced himself to take a breath, "I'm going to find him. You lot can do what you want, but I won't sit here and do nothing!"

The others looked at each other anxiously, before scattering to get dressed or floo home to check everyone was safe. There was no time to waste.