Don't Answer Me

It had been two weeks since the football game on the castle lawn, and Harry was trying to forget about it; he was doing his best, but it didn't seem to be good enough. He kept himself busy, pouring himself in to his homework and quidditch practice, to the point where even his potions grades were going up and he had mastered the Wronski Feint, adding a little twist at the end that Ron had come to call 'the Potter dive bomb.'

In his free time, he tried to engross his mind in long games of exploding snap with his housemates, but that didn't occupy him long enough to make a difference. He tried several times to play chess with Ron, but couldn't even concentrate on that. It had gotten so bad that one evening, Ron had shouted at him for it.

"Pay attention, Harry," Ron said, "or I'll beat you in another five moves!"

Harry sighed. "Sorry, I guess my head isn't in it right now."

"You think?" Ron shook his head. "Are you okay? You've been kind of distracted lately."

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ron, really."

Even his occlumency lessons, which had been going really well lately, had been suffering. Harry couldn't empty his mind before bed each night like he had been able to do just two weeks before. Fortunately, he wasn't having the nightmares anymore; he didn't see the long dark ministry hallway when he slept, or Nagini the giant snake. Even the dreams about Sirius were fading as the hurt continued to heal.

But every night, he went to bed with a pair of grey eyes burned in to his mind, and he dreamed of silky blonde hair and the way it might twine around his fingers. It wasn't a nightmare, but it might as well have been. He put off going to bed each night; to sleep less was to dream less about Draco Malfoy.

On a Thursday night in early November, Harry made his way up to Albus Dumbledore's office. "Canary Cream," he said, and the staircase to the upper floor appeared in front of him.

When he stepped off the stairs, the Headmaster was waiting for him, his eyes sparkling like a child's.

"Good evening, Harry."

Harry nodded slightly. "Professor." He yawned, trying desperately to hide it behind his hand, but failing miserably.

Dumbledore noticed the yawn, then saw with great concern the blue shadows underneath Harry's eyes. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looked up, half dazed. "Oh, I'm fine, Professor. Just a bit tired is all."

"You look more than just a bit tired. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you a cup of tea."

Harry made his way to the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, and sat heavily in to it. He didn't have to wait long for Dumbledore to bring him that cup of tea, and when Dumbledore did appear, he found Harry sitting silently with Fawkes perched on the young man's shoulder, nestling Harry's neck with his feathered head. He was singing softly in to Harry's ear.

"Harry." Harry jumped at Dumbledore's voice as the older man handed him his tea. "Why don't you tell me why you aren't sleeping."

Harry lowered his eyes. "I'm sleeping, sir, I'm just kind of tired today."

"Harry, you look like you haven't slept in weeks. When you are this tired, I can't work as well with you. So why don't you just tell me what's going on, and then we can work on your lesson," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry sighed. He couldn't hide anything from Albus Dumbledore, and he desperately wanted to hide this from him.

"Harry, you can tell me anything. I won't judge you, and I promise to only listen unless you want my advice."

The Gryffindor knew that his professor was telling the truth, so he took a deep breath and began slowly.

"I've been dreaming. About a person."

"Voldemort again, Harry?"

"No, not Voldemort. I haven't had any dreams about him since..." he broke off. "Well, since June."

"Ah, I see." He nodded.

"This person isn't someone that I really want to be dreaming about though. Someone I really shouldn't be dreaming about. I can't seem to concentrate on anything but this person."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, taking a sip of his own tea. "Go on."

"Well, I... I think... I think that I am very attracted to this person, and I'm starting to really like this person."

"Harry, does this person - she - have a name?" Harry shook his head. "She doesn't?"

Harry shook his head again, and smiled slightly. 'And I thought Albus Dumbledore knew everything about everyone.'

"No, sir, this person isn't a female."

A light went on in Dumbledore's eyes. "Ah, I see, Harry, I see. Please continue."

"This just isn't a person I should be attracted to, and it bothers me that I am."

They sat silently, Harry examining the floor and Dumbledore examining Harry. This continued for a few minutes until the Headmaster spoke up, his voice soft.

"Is this... person... a student here?"

"Yes, sir."

"May I be so bold as to make a few guesses as to this young man's identity?" Harry shrugged, then nodded. "Can I assume that it is not the youngest Mister Weasley?"

Harry looked up, his eyes wide. "Ron? No, it's not Ron. He's like a brother to me. I love him, but not like that!"

"Then there is only one other young man that I can think of that would cause you so much distress that you aren't sleeping. I find, Harry, that sometimes naming names can be distressful, so without doing so, can I venture a guess that it's a certain blonde Slytherin?" Harry's shoulders sagged in defeat. "I thought so. Harry, I don't think you should be distressed about this."

Harry stood and began to pace. "Why not, Professor? He's been my enemy for five years, and all of a sudden, he's acting differently. I still have no reason to trust him, no reason to consider him safe, and yet I have felt this connection to him for the past two weeks that I can't get rid of. I'll be the first to admit that he's good looking. I would go so far as to say handsome, maybe even beautiful. But that's not why I'm drawn to him." He stopped pacing and looked at Dumbledore, shame painting his cheeks pink. "I looked in to his eyes, and there was something there that I've never seen before. I caught him in a totally unguarded moment, and I think I saw his soul. And I wanted to protect it," he finished softly.

"Do you think that you can protect his soul, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I'm not even sure that it's worth it to try. But I want to," he said.

"So you feel protective of him now. Is this because of the Defense Against the Dark Arts project?'

"Maybe. I've learned so much about him. He's changed, I can see it. But I'm so afraid it's all an act, and if it is, I don't know what I'll do. If I fall in love with him, if I tell him how I feel, what if I then find out it's all a game?" He turned away from Dumbledore then, and stared out the window in to the dark night. "What if he still stands for all that I stand against?"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts stood up and walked over to stand beside Harry Potter, and laid a hand on his student's shoulder.

"Harry, have you talked to Miss Granger or Mister Weasley about this?"

"What?" he yelped. "No, they wouldn't understand, especially Ron."

"I think you underestimate the love your friends feel for you. True, they may be shocked at first, but I think that, given time, they will come to accept him. They believe in you and trust your judgement; give them a chance to do so in this case as well." Dumbledore looked down at Harry. "But if I may make a suggestion, tell them separately, and tell Miss Granger first. She seems to have more influence over Mister Weasley these days."

Harry laughed, and it felt good. "You're right about that, sir." He paused a moment, then continued. "But what about my occlumency lessons? I can't concentrate on anything but him, and I go to sleep thinking of him."

"For tonight, Harry, we're going to skip the lesson. You're tired, you haven't been able to concentrate, and I'm afraid that I might see some things that would be more than you might want to share. I think you'll find that with a few good nights of sleep, we will be able to get back to the occlumency. And as for the sleeping part... well, I think that once you tell your friends how you feel about your project partner, you'll be able to sleep better."

"So I'm free to go then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, on one condition," Dumbledore said. "I want you to talk to Miss Granger tonight. The sooner you talk to her, the sooner you'll be able to sleep."

Harry grinned, the first true smile he'd had in two weeks.

***

"Uh, Hermione, can I talk to you?"

Harry had walked back to Gryffindor tower as fast as he could, while he was still brave enough to talk to Hermione about Draco. He could already feel that courage slipping away as she looked up from her book and smiled at him. Her smile slipped a bit when she saw the serious look on his face.

"Sure, Harry, what is it? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Can we go somewhere quiet though?" he asked.

"Sure. Did you want me to go get Ron?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione 's eyes widened, shocked by his short outburst. "Erm, I mean, I just need to talk to you about something, and I'll tell Ron when I'm feeling better about it."

"Alright," she said, accepting his answer. "Why don't we walk to the library and talk there. It should be almost empty at this time of night."

They walked in comfortable silence to the library, then all the way back to the tables in front of the restricted section. As they sat down, Hermione saw Harry tense up, and she laid a hand on his arm.

"Harry, what is it? What's troubling you? You haven't been yourself for two weeks."

Harry took a deep breath and spoke softly. "Hermione, what I'm about to tell you may upset you, but you need to know. There," he faltered, then continued, "there's someone I think I like. And I shouldn't really like this person, Hermione. He's the last person in the world that I should be attracted to."

Hermione cocked her head, her brows knitted in confusion. Then she paled, and understanding washed over her features. "Oh, Harry," she breathed, "no, not him."

Harry looked away from her, ashamed again. "Hermione, I..."

She interrupted him. "Harry, you can't... you can't have him. I know you love him, but... but he's mine, Harry, he's mine!"

"What?" Harry turned to her to see her brown eyes flooded with tears. "You think I'm talking about Ron? Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, no, it's not him." He took a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I'm sorry, I started that out all wrong. I love Ron, but he's like a brother to me."

Hermione dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. "Well, if it's not him then who could... oh!" she exclaimed. "Harry, is it Dra-"

"Shh!"

She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in to speak. "Draco? Is it Draco, Harry?"

He nodded, and she breathed a sigh, of relief, resignation, or disbelief, he couldn't tell.

"Well, he IS rather good looking. And he does seem nicer this year. He hasn't thrown anything in my hair in potions or called me a mudblood once," she said dryly. "I think maybe he has changed. But, Harry, why him?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Dunno. I've always kind of thought that he's good looking. You know, that day we played football in the courtyard, I tackled him." He grinned. "Not because I think he's good looking, because he had the football."

"Yeah, I heard. Ron said that you knocked the wind out of both of you."

"And then when he opened his eyes, he looked straight in to mine. I saw something there that I've never seen before, and I felt... I dunno, I felt something. It was like seeing his soul, and I wanted - want - to protect it."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Wow, that's really... wow. Are you sure we're talking about Malfoy, Harry?"

He grinned, which relieved Hermione immensely. Then he frowned again. "Yes, we're talking about Malfoy. But how do I get rid of this feeling?"

"Why do you want to?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Hermione, it's MALFOY for crying out loud!"

"Does he not feel the same?" she asked.

"I don't know, and I don't plan on finding out. The only thing I plan on doing with this information is telling Ron."

"Oh, I think it would be safer for you if I told Ron about this. And I also think that maybe you need to pursue this, Harry. If you truly feel this way about him, and it's not just lust you're feeling, then you owe it to yourself to find out if this could be something worth trying."

"But it's Malfoy, Hermione."

"And people change, Harry. I'm not saying that you should trust him completely, but honestly, I think he's earned a certain degree of trust." She stood up. "Maybe it's time for you to trust yourself. Now let's get back to the common room. It's freezing here."

***

Draco sat over his homework in the Slytherin common area, reading and rereading the same text and not comprehending a word of it. He kept grunting under his breath, not realizing that he was doing so.

The common room was almost empty; it was late at night, and most of the Slytherins were in bed. A few, like Crabbe and Goyle, were sneaking off to the kitchens to skive a late night snack and heap a bit of abuse on an unsuspecting house-elf. Others were snogging in the astronomy tower, avoiding Mrs. Norris. The few who remained in the common room were engrossed in homework or practicing new spells. Blaise Zabini sat in front of the fire with a book his father had given him.

Blaise and Draco's families had known each other a long time, though Blaise's parents weren't Death Eaters. They certainly had pure blood sympathies, but they didn't support Voldemort. So while Draco had known Blaise most of his life, they had never been close friends, until this year when Draco had started asking questions of Blaise about his own thoughts on some of the subjects troubling Draco.

Unlike Crabbe and Goyle, Blaise was intelligent and held a mean conversation with Draco about anything from spells to the state of the Muggle economy. He was built like Seamus Finnigan, but taller, and he had brown hair and hazel eyes. It wasn't uncommon to find him surrounded by Slytherin girls in the hallways between classes. And while he was friendly, he was also cooler in demeanor than Draco.

Which is why he was able to maintain his composure completely when he heard a low growling coming from the long wooden table behind him. The remaining students in the common room got up hurriedly and left when Draco began making the low noise, leaving Draco and Blaise alone. Blaise stood up from his chair and turned just in time to see Draco turn his inkwell upside down over his parchment, then throw the empty inkwell across the room; as it hit the wall, it shattered, tinkling loudly as pieces hit the floor. Draco growled again, louder this time.

"Feel better now?" Blaise asked. He pointed his wand at the mess of glass on the floor. "Reparo," he said, and watched as the glass came back together to form the inkwell. With a swish and flick of his wand, "Wingardium leviosa," he said, and sailed the inkwell back to the table in front of Draco.

Draco looked at the mess of ink on his parchment and pointed his wand at the spreading stain. "Scourgify." The parchment turned back to its ecru color, and Draco threw his quill down on the desk.

Blaise sat down across from Draco, who's head was on the table. He was beating the palm of his hand against the wood with a regular, dull thump.

"Are you ready to tell me what's got you so snarky lately?" Blaise asked.

"I'm not snarky," Draco retorted in muffled tones.

"Ah, so that's why the inkwell had to die."

"Piss off, Zabini."

"I'll make you a deal," Blaise said. "You tell me what's got your knickers in a twist, and I'll do something to restore that cool Malfoy demeanor that we've all grown to know and disregard."

Draco looked up. "What are you going to do?"

Blaise smirked. "I'll kiss Millicent. There has to be some entertainment in that."

"That's just disgusting. Nobody kisses Millicent, Blaise, not even her mum."

"Ok then, I'll kiss Gregory."

Draco couldn't help it; he laughed loudly at the mental picture that popped in his head. "I would actually pay galleons to see that. Throw in some tongue action and...."

"And I'll be sick as a dog, thank you, no," Blaise interrupted. "I am straight, Draco, no matter what you might think of the suggestion that I kiss Millicent just to entertain you."

Draco laughed again, then as the laughter left, he laid his cheek on the table. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," Blaise replied, "but I do believe in the Slytherin code of honor. So I promise that if what you say is so good I want to tell someone else, I'll just blackmail you with it instead."

"Bastard," Draco muttered, but he smiled. "OK, here's the deal. There's this guy I think I like, and it's driving me nuts."

"The only person I know who could produce this particularly horrendous mood is Harry Potter."

"Ding ding ding, and we have a winner. I'm impressed, Blaise. What gave it away?" Draco asked.

"I told you, your awful mood the past two weeks. The only other person who could make you as grumpy would be Ron Weasley, and then we'd have to fight off a jinx every time we mentioned your mood. You weren't actually destroying things, so I figured it must be Potter."

They sat in silence for a minute, each trying to figure out what to say to the other. Blaise finally broke the silence.

"Why Potter?"

"Indeed. I wish I had an answer. He invited me to play that stupid American game with him and his mates, and he tackled me. When I opened my eyes, Potter was lying on top of me, staring, and I had nowhere to look but in to his eyes. Something stuck. I can't explain it. I've been thinking about him ever since."

"Well, it's not as if you two are really enemies anymore."

"No, but it's not like we're best mates either. He's Harry Potter, dammit! The sodding Boy Who Lived." Draco slumped in his chair. "He'll never be the Boy Who Loves Me."

Blaise sat up straight in his chair. "Wait a minute, Draco, you think you might love him?"

"No! I'm just trying to prove a point. He'd never go out with me."

"Does he like men?"

"Yeah."

"Then you have a chance. All hope is not lost."

"Are you encouraging me?" Draco's jaw dropped.

"Sure, why not. I'll do anything to get you out of your mood," Draco opened his mouth to speak but Blaise cut him off, "short of giving Gregory Goyle tongue, that is."

"No really, Blaise. Why aren't you trying to Avada Kedavra me out of existence? This is not a small thing."

Blaise shrugged. "No, it's not. It's huge. But I can think of worse things than Draco Malfoy dating Harry Potter."

Draco smirked. "Name three."

"One, me having to give Goyle tongue. Two, seeing Snape naked. And three," he paused, "Voldemort coming back to power. As far as this goes, this is big, but the other things are huge. And there are worse men you could have picked to have a crush on. At least Potter is good looking."

"So what should I do?" he asked Blaise.

"What do you want to do? You don't have a wide variety of choices. You can ignore how you feel, and be miserable, or you can tell Harry, risking rejection but getting closure."

"Or I can go to bed and sleep on it," Draco replied.

"That too. And I'm sure you just LOVE dreaming of a certain brunette Gryffindor, don't you?"

Draco threw his book at Blaise and got up from the table. "Good night, Zabini. You tell anyone about this conversation, and you'll self-destruct."

"Slytherin code of honor, Malfoy, Slytherin code of honor," Blaise answered to Draco's retreating figure.

***

Saturday arrived, and with it a beautiful fall day, perfect for the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch match.

As Ron, Harry, and Hermione filed out to the pitch to get their seats for the game, Ron turned to Harry and said casually, "Don't watch him too closely today when he flies, mate."

Harry stopped walking, allowing Ron and Hermione to get about three steps ahead before they saw he wasn't following. "Huh?"

"Malfoy, don't watch Malfoy too much today," he said.

Harry caught up to them as they resumed walking to the pitch. "So Hermione told you then?"

"Harry, I told you I would," Hermione said to him.

"Yeah, and I wasn't very happy about it at first. But," he paused, glancing at Harry, "I know that something has been bothering you, and I know that this isn't something that you would do on a whim. Malfoy HAS changed, no matter how much I want to ignore it. So if you like him, then I'll do my best to support you, Harry."

Harry was shocked and touched by Ron's words, so he just nodded.

"But we agreed, Harry, that if he does anything, anything at all to hurt you, we'd have to kill him," Hermione offered.

Harry laughed. "Thanks, you two. That means a lot to me."

"So are you going to tell him?" Hermione asked. There was a note of excitement in her voice.

"Not yet. I need to sort through this a bit more before I go saying something stupid. And if for some reason he doesn't feel the same way, I still have to do the DADA project with him. I don't want anything to get in the way of that."

"So when will you tell him?" she pressed.

"Hermione, I don't know. I still have to get used to the idea that my friends might actually be OK with this, much less the idea of telling him how I feel about him."

They sat down in the stands and waited for the game to start, housemates milling about around them trying to find the perfect seat. Many of the Gryffindors had made banners supporting Hufflepuff, which flashed, shouted, and changed to reflect the score.

Ron turned to Harry. "This doesn't mean that you're supporting Slytherin today, does it?" he asked Harry quietly.

Harry shook his head violently. "Nope, I still want to see them lose. But you realize that's not going to happen, right?"

Ron sighed. "Yeah. It's still Hufflepuff, and Slytherin still has the second fastest Seeker in the school on their team."

At that moment, Ginny, Neville, and Seamus all appeared in front of the trio and sat down on the bench in front of them, each holding a sign that said, "Go Hufflepuff!" on it in blue and gold lettering.

As the Hufflepuff players flew out above the grassy pitch, Dean Thomas, who had been made the quidditch commentator after Lee Jordan finished school, announced the names of the players. He did the same with the Slytherin players, though with a small growl, and finished with, "... Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy."

The crowd booed and hissed, but the Slytherin team maintained their chilly composure, flying a lap around the pitch and getting in to their positions in the air

Madame Hooch stood below the players and looked up at the team captains. "I want a clean game from all of you." She released the quaffle and the snitch, and the game began.

***

Draco Malfoy loved to fly. When he was on his broom, he had the ability to forget about everything and concentrate only on the freedom and exhilaration he felt while in the air.

Today he needed to forget. Forget that for the past three weeks he had thought of nothing but his nemesis, his crush, the young man he wanted erald eyes, and the lopsided smile that made Harry James Potter seemingly unforgettable.

Even as he flew, he had trouble concentrating on anything but Harry. He allowed himself a brief thought about the Gryffindor, shutting his eyes and blocking out everything but Harry for a moment. "Now think about the game, Malfoy," he growled to himself.

That seemed to be enough, and all thoughts of Harry disappeared as he dove twenty feet in search of the snitch.

***

"Is he staring at him?" Ron asked Hermione softly.

"Well, he was, but I don't think he is anymore." She turned to him. "You're not going to watch Harry the whole game are you, Ron?"

"No!"

"Then why does it matter?"

Ron harrumphed loudly, causing Ginny, Neville, and Seamus to turn around and look at him. He glared back, and they turned back around to watch the game. "See that, Hermione! I was loud enough that they all turned around," he whispered, "but Harry didn't even notice. He's too busy watching that blonde prat!"

"Ron, lots of people are watching that blonde prat. That means nothing. Now hush!"

"But, Hermione..."

"Stop it, Ron. You said that if he liked Malfoy, you'd support him, and that's what he expects you to do. Get used to it. If he's watching Malfoy now, then let him. Now watch the game," she chided gently.

***

"... And Zabini put the Quaffle through the post. Slytherin leads ninety to twenty over Hufflepuff," Dean said. Follt something, like Crabbe or Goyle!"

"Dean Thomas!" Professor McGonagall roared. "No more of that, young man."

But she was too late - the Slytherins were booing Dean, and the rest of the houses were egging him on and encouraging the Hufflepuff beaters to club the Slytherin players.

Draco rolled his eyes, and flew down to Crabbe and Goyle, who had been sitting still in mid air for about three minutes. "Are you two going to do your jobs or not? Go after them already!" He flew off, leaving the two of them looking angrily at his retreating form. They said nothing though, and flew off to protect their chasers from the Hufflepuff beaters.

***

Draco lapped the pitch once, then a second time in an effort to find the snitch. He saw nothing - no glint of gold or the flutter of tiny wings. Frustrated, he did a third lap.

When he got to the Gryffindor section, he glanced up only to see Harry in plain view, looking right at him. Surprised, Draco did his best to look like he was concentrating on the game, and stopped in mid air, pointing his broom in such a way that he was facing the field, but had enough of an angle to catch sight of Harry if he wanted. He slid his eyes in the Gryffindor's direction, and saw that Harry was still watching him.

***

'Ok, I need to stop looking at Malfoy now. Stop looking at Malfoy, stop looking at - whoa! No, don't stop there, Draco, I can't stop looking at you if you're right in front of me!' Harry shook his head slightly to clear it. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to distract himself. 'It's not working,' he thought.

Draco flew off then, and Harry saw why: at the Hufflepuff goals, the snitch was darting about lazily, daring one the Seekers to catch it. Draco flew slowly at first, doing his best not to attract attention to himself, then leaned forward to accelerate when he saw the Hufflepuff Seeker heading the same direction. When they were within ten feet of the snitch, the small, golden ball dove twenty feet, then popped back up, soaring above the Seekers' heads as if bouncing on the air. Both dove to follow it, but Draco, the superior flyer with the superior broom, was able to stop his dive more quickly and follow the snitch back up towards the sky.

Harry sat and watched all this; he knew perfectly well that he could perform the same moves that Draco had just pulled, and on his Firebolt could probably do them even better. Yet he was still in awe at the grace and power Draco showed, the mastery of the broom and determination with which he followed the snitch. He had to check himself at the urge to stand and applaud - Draco was still the Slytherin Seeker, after all, and he still wanted Hufflepuff to win the game.

Just as that thought blinked through his mind, he watched as Draco held out his left hand and caught the snitch. A roar went up among the Slytherin students as Draco's team members circled him. A dismayed groan rose up from the other houses, but Harry barely heard it; from across the field, surrounded by his teammates, Draco Malfoy was looking straight in to his eyes, his face without expression.

Harry stared back, then nodded. Almost imperceptibly, Draco nodded back, then turned to his teammates and followed the captain in a lap around the quidditch pitch.

***

Harry made his way up to bed early that night, feigning a yawn and assuring Hermione that he wasn't getting sick. When he got up to his room, he put a couple of pillows in his bed and covered them up to make it look like he might be in bed, then pulled the drapes around his bed shut. He then grabbed his invisibility cloak and draped the silvery, fluid material over him, watching in the mirror as his body disappeared. He checked to makes sure he had the small bit of parchment in his jeans pocket, then made his way back down to common room so he could wait by the door for someone to open it.

He didn't have to wait long; two minutes later, a group of tiny first years entered the common room, and Harry slipped out quietly, taking care to not brush against any of them as they went through the door in opposite directions. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door was closed, then walked quickly to his destination, keeping the cloak snugly around him.

***

There was a knock on the door which Draco tried to ignore. The knock came again, soft, but insistent. He pulled himself out of the chair and, mumbling a few half hearted curses under his breath, answered the door, expecting to be able to curse the person who had disturbed him.

Nothing. Except the small piece of folded parchment that was at his eye level.

Draco looked down the dungeon hall to his right, then his left, seeing no other person, then took the parchment floating in mid air.

He opened the parchment up and read the brief note, smiling at the memory of writing these exact words earlier in the term. The messy, scrawled handwriting made him smile more:

Good game.

Suddenly, he felt someone else's presence, even though he saw nothing, and he knew, though he didn't know how, that the deliverer of this note was still there with him. He checked again to make sure none of his housemates were around, then closed his eyes and turned in the direction that he felt the presence most strongly.

"I know you're here," he whispered. "Thank you."

Draco opened his eyes and stepped back in to his room, shutting the door silently.

***

Harry took a deep breath through his nose and held it a moment, expelling it through his mouth to calm himself down. Draco had stood facing him, not ten inches from Harry's face. He held up a trembling hand, resting the palm against the solid wooden door.

"You're welcome," he whispered back, then made his way back to Gryffindor tower.