Mirror Tricks

05/? - Secret Assignations

Hermione and Ron found Harry the next morning at the Gryffindor table, leaning over his third cup of coffee. He looked up and smiled briefly at the two of them.

"Morning."

"Hey."

"You all right, Harry?"

"Yeah. Headache," he muttered shortly, sipping his coffee. He was trying not to think about the dream images of last night, of his friends being tortured before him.

"Eaten something yet?"

"Hermione, please. I can't stomach anything after that ghastly potion of Pomfrey's."

Ron was still acting a little stiffly, but seemed to have gotten the frostiness of the previous evening out of his system, Harry was relieved to note. Harry hadn't slept well last night. After falling asleep in front of the fire, he had eventually dragged himself up to the sixth year boys dormitory, and had had to contend with the varying pitches of snores from the other four, whilst their imaginary screams echoed endlessly in his ears.

As the Great Hall began to slowly fill up, Harry helped himself to some toast to keep Hermione's eyes off him. She pretended, instead, to be reading an especially large volume of the history of Transfiguration. Harry just shook his head, shared a look with Ron, who smiled and went back to nursing his coffee.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and turned to face the doors to the Great Hall. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, staring at Harry. Harry stared back, a consciously bland expression on his face, and turned back to his coffee. Malfoy reddened slightly, as if in anger, Harry thought, and stalked to this place at the Slytherin table. Ron raised an eyebrow at him.

"What was all that about?"

But Harry was spared from answering by McGonagall, who was handing out timetables. He stared at his, not really seeing it, but thinking about Malfoy. What was up with him? And why this change? Why this sudden intensity? Where had the irrational anger gone? Harry shook his head.

"Ooh, Transfiguration first, Harry. Then double Potions after lunch," Hermione said.

"No Defence 'til tomorrow," Ron grouched.

"What do you have, Ron?"

"Divination." It was almost a growl.

"That'll be fun," Hermione said blandly, sharing a sneaky sideways smirk at Harry.

"How about you, Nev?"

"Herbology. Can't wait," Neville said around a mouthful of cereal.

"We'd better go back up to the common room to pick up our books," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah," Harry said, finishing his toast and coffee, and stuffing his timetable in his robes' pocket.

Ron rose with them, and together the three of them climbed the staircase towards Gryffindor Tower, talking amicably. Harry noticed Ron had dragged himself out of whatever mood he had been in, and made an effort to do the same.

"Potter!" a sharp voice called from behind them. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned on a step to see Malfoy at the bottom of the stairs.

"What the hell do you want?" Ron snarled.

"I want to talk to Potter, Weasel. Do you have a problem with that?" Malfoy stood with his arms folded and an intended expression of boredom on his pointed face.

"What about?"

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione exclaimed, both whirling round to look at him in shocked surprise.

"In private, if possible. Will your keepers let you out?" Malfoy's top lip curled in disgust.

After a pause, Harry frowned and said, Hermione, could you and Ron grab my books for me? I'll meet you outside the Transfiguration classroom."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Hermione, really, it's okay." Harry started walking back down the stairs, wondering whether it really was okay. But he was too curious not to go.

Ron and Hermione shared a angry look and watched Harry and Malfoy walk side by side around the corner and out of sight, neither of them saying a word.

"Something very strange is going on."

"You're telling me."

~*~

Harry took a deep breath and followed Malfoy, walking almost abreast with him. The blond boy led him around the corner and into an empty classroom along the Charms corridor. Harry surreptitiously checked his watch, a birthday present from Hermione; they had about fifteen minutes until class started.

Malfoy had walked to the far side of the classroom, and stopped with his back to Harry. Harry, caught between puzzlement and annoyance, sat down on a table and waited for a moment.

"Malfoy, is there something I can do for you?" he asked at length, bracing his arms against the table at his sides.

Draco spun and glared at him.

"So fucking selfless, aren't you, Potter?" he spat.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

Harry heaved himself off the table and approached the other boy.

"I - I-"

Draco stammering? This was almost too much for Harry to take in. All the hate and animosity that had been between them for the last five years, to Harry it seemed to dissolve in an instant, and he felt something akin to pity for the pale, blond boy. He waited patiently.

"I wanted to say something."

"Yes?"

"Look, this isn't easy, you know!"

"What isn't easy?" Harry's patience, notoriously short these days, was being stretched.

"I nearly killed you the other day!"

Sudden understanding dawned on Harry.

"Oh, that's what all this is about. And this is your way of apologising to me?" Harry asked incredulously. He felt restless with a sudden nervous energy.

"No," Draco denied immediately.

Harry paced up and down, caught between the urge to run away and hide and the equally distasteful urge to strangle the other boy. He occasionally looked at Draco.

"Did you want to kill me?"

"Yes," he said defiantly, then crumbled. "At the time, perhaps. You put my father in Azkaban, Potter. How was I supposed to react?"

"You could have thanked me."

Malfoy snarled, wordlessly.

"This is not a game, Potter. My father was all the protection I had."

"Protection? What do you mean?" Harry stopped pacing and turned to face Draco.

"Look, Potter." Malfoy sighed impatiently. "It must be hard for you to understand, but I don't actually want to join with the Dark Lord. Not that I appear to have a choice in the matter. With my father there, the Dark Lord could pester him for the resources he needed for the campaign against your stupid Order-"

"How do you know about the Order?"

"Don't interrupt," Draco muttered irritably, a slight frown creasing his perfect features. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I watch and listen, and history has a habit of repeating itself. Of course there's an Order, just like there was last time. But this time it would be worse," he continued. "The Dark Lord has something to prove this time. My father told me about what happened after the Triwizard Tournament before you blabbed to the Quibbler last year. Which," he added, "was a really stupid move. Do you think that he can't read?"

Harry stared at him open mouthed for a moment as the torrent suddenly stopped. This was the most Malfoy had ever said to him at one sitting. He shook his head.

"Malfoy, I understand that; it was just more important to make the wizarding world believe me that Voldemort had returned, for their own safety, not for any personal want of attention."

Draco snorted derisively; Harry frowned at him and continued. "And anyway, if you wanted to protect me so much, why did you give that photographer Hermione, Ron and Ginny's names? You've put them in needless danger!"

"Potter, you are so naïve! He saw them with you at the Ministry back in the summer. And anyway, he knows who your friends are; he has people watching you. Even in Hogwarts."

"Draco, what are you trying to say? Are you trying to help me?" Harry sounded incredulous.

That seemed to stump Draco.

"I don't know," he admitted, in a softer tone of voice, looking away. "It's not because of fear for Weasel or the Mudblood-"

"Don't you dare use that term about Hermione!" Harry raged, drawing his wand on the blond boy, who looked taken aback for a moment.

"You won't protect yourself, but you'll protect her? Interesting, Potter."

"I didn't come here to trade insults with you, Malfoy."

"Oh? Why did you, then?"

"I thought you might have something worth hearing."

"Like what?"

Harry considered him for a moment, lowering his wand.

"If you're not the evil git we've always taken you for, then you could be useful."

Draco laughed, genuine amusement relaxing and brightening his face.

"You can't be serious, Potter? Things are never so black and white. You verse me; good verses evil? I don't think so."

"Then what? What reason could you possibly have for being such a bastard to me all these years?"

"Because you annoy me! Dumbledore's precious pet Potter. I'm better than you at everything, and still he favours you!"

"Maybe he doesn't like your methods. And anyway, I'm better at Quidditch."

Malfoy glowered.

"Whatever, Potter."

"Oh, go away Malfoy. If you can't be bothered with this-"

"And what, exactly, is this?"

"I'm not sure," Harry mused, eyeing Draco, his chin in his hand, his wand arm crossed across his body. He flicked his wand absently. "I think we can work something out to the advantage of both of us."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Meet me on the Quidditch pitch during dinner tonight; we don't have time now." Harry turned and headed for the door.

"What? I can't meet with you-"

"What have we just done?" Harry pointed out without turning around.

"How can I trust you?"

"You're just going to have to, aren't you? If you want to find out, that is."

Malfoy frowned, brushing past Harry fiercely and, muttering about stupid Gryffindors, disappeared down the corridor.

~*~

Harry flew high over the Quidditch pitch, his previous depression seeming to have lifted as soon as his feet had left the ground. Despite the warnings from Madam Pomfrey, Harry felt better in the air than he had in ages, light and free as he put his Firebolt through its paces. He leant forward and hugged the broom handle, leaning gently to the left and pushing himself into a tight spin, the speed and the wind dragging at his robes and hair. At this moment it felt great to be alive, the pressure, the anger and the guilt lifting away effortlessly.

Harry had managed to avoid Ron and Hermione after their afternoon lessons by being held behind in Potions by Snape. The Potions Master had assured Harry that he held no illusions as to how Harry had managed to gain entry into his class, and if Harry thought that this meant Snape was going to give in to popular opinion then he was very much mistaken. Harry had wisely kept his mouth shut, resolving to show Snape how good at the discipline he could become. It had been the most that Snape had said to him since the incident with the penseive last year, but Harry was certain that he would go back to being ignored immediately.

Throughout the lesson, Malfoy had avoided eye contact with Harry, indeed disregarding his very existence. All in all it had led to a pretty quiet and uneventful lesson, and Harry thought with this new atmosphere he would have a much better chance at proving himself. He knew he could do it, and despite his natural dislike for the subject, he was determined. If this was what it cost for him to become an Auror, then so be it.

Harry pulled himself out of the spiralling flow and dived sharply towards the ground, the thrill of flight and falling combined burning through his body, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and a grin of pure pleasure spread across his face. He did another couple of laps around the Quidditch pitch, abruptly changing direction, height and speed every few meters, until he became aware of the presence of someone else in the air with him.

Harry slowed and came gently to a halt and looked down to see Malfoy gliding sedately towards him, an almost serene expression on his sharp features. Harry nodded to the other youth, who nodded back.

"Potter."

"Managed to get away from your sycophants, Malfoy?"

"Evidently. I see you've avoided your fan club."

Harry grinned nastily. "If they knew I was here to meet you, they'd tear you limb from limb."

"Ah, yes, for corrupting the innocent?"

"Something like that."

"Is that part of your plan? How Slytherin of you, Potter. You can't beat a good minion."

Draco sighed happily as he looped Harry on his broom and sailed off towards the far goal posts, circling the central hoop lazily to the ground, where he jumped lightly off his broom and arranged himself on the grass. Harry followed him slowly, considering this change in attitude. He wasn't sure if he could cope with this new barely-civil Malfoy. The comments were still there but without their typical venom. Definitely interesting.

"So, Potter, what do you propose?" Draco drawled lazily, lifting his face to catch the last of the evening sunshine as it dipped below the mountain range to the west.

"Well, a combination of intelligence would be the most obvious thing."

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter. We're hardly on the same level here." His eyes were closed and his voice sibilant as he sunned himself.

"What?"

"I can access far more information than you can, obviously. You're not even a member of that presumptuous Order, are you? Whereas I am frequently appraised of events concerning certain rebel groups outside of Hogwarts." Draco turned his narrowed eyes on Harry, looking unbearably smug.

"There's more than one group?" Harry blurted, involuntarily.

"Oh, dear." Malfoy smirked. "We have got a long way to go, haven't we?"

"Are you going to help me out here, Malfoy, or what?" Harry ground out between clenched teeth.

"Now, now, Potter. We haven't established what I'm going to get out of this yet, and until we do, no deal."

"How about self respect?"

Harry watched Malfoy intently as a number of expressions flitted across his smooth features, trying to decipher them. Scepticism, irritation and possibly hope before he settled on a picture of mild query.

"Oh? And how do you plan to do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about by going to the greatest wizard of this age?"

"Dumbledore?" Malfoy spat incredulously. "That's your brilliant plan? Honestly, I expected better of you, Potter."

"Well, at least you passed the evil test." Harry smiled, smug in return.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked impatiently.

"You said Dumbledore instead of Voldemort."

"And you think that makes me not evil? That just means I have a knack for self-preservation. Except of course, that I'm sneaking around with a bone-headed Gryffindor with a hero complex."

Harry's eyes went dead, his expression tight. He stood up, gripping his Firebolt.

"Fine, if that's how you want it, Malfoy. May I just remind you that you're the one who came to me for help. And I know you had no real intention of apologising for the other day."

He started to walk away.

"You're the one who should be apologising to me!" Draco shouted after him, suddenly on his feet, his face furious. "You denied me right from the start! You pretend to be the great good Gryffindor, friend to all, saviour of the oppressed! But you're a fraud! What do you get in return for your services? Does Granger make you feel better about yourself, or is it the Weasel who does that for you? Do they all know that being linked to you is going to get them all raped and killed before they leave Hogwarts? Do they know the cost of your friendship?"

Harry very slowly turned around, icy calm.

"What did you say, Malfoy?" His voice level and low, quiet and dangerous.

"Do they know, Harry, that their champion should have been sorted in Slytherin? Did you tell them that? How ironic, that Gryffindor's golden boy should have such a taint."

"Who told you that?" Harry demanded, dropping his Firebolt and grabbing Malfoy's robes around his throat.

"I know everything about you." Draco laughed harshly. "Every damn thing! I am endlessly compared to you, and do you know why, Potter?"

Harry shook his head mutely, his teeth gritted and his hands still at Malfoy's throat.

"Because they want me to be your opposite. My purpose here is to watch and hinder you, using whatever means I can."

"You haven't been much good at it so far, have you?" Harry spat, shaking the other violently.

Draco laughed again. "I almost got you expelled last year. That would have finished you off, away from Dumbledore's protection."

"You don't know anything. I'm protected at the Dursleys."

Harry pushed Draco away from him, making him trip and sprawl on the ground. The blond youth sat up where he was, staring intently up at Harry.

"Is that what he told you?" he asked quietly, shaking his head. "That doesn't protect you from your family, does it? It doesn't stop your uncle locking you in a cupboard for days on end. It doesn't stop him abusing you, or your cousin using you as a punch bag."

"How...how do you...?" Harry asked, stunned. He had told no one about that part of his life; not even Ron and Hermione knew those details.

"Does it matter how I know?"

"They haven't done it for years..." Harry muttered, looking away, memories of cramped darkness and a constant sick dread that had always escalated in his stomach every time he had heard the Dursleys waking up in the morning.

"They still did it, and what will stop them from doing it again? Didn't you ever wonder why Dumbledore never came and took you away? He knew what they did to you."

"My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs'..." Harry mumbled distractedly, his eyes far away. "It was like a dream. Someone knew I was there and had finally come to rescue me."

"Were you really rescued? If I'm not mistaken, Potter, how much shit has happened to you since you left your cupboard? How many times have you nearly died? You're not even in the right house, for god's sake. Your friends take advantage of you and things are kept from you by those who are supposed to be protecting you." Draco shook his head. "If that were me, I'd be really pissed off."

"I was," Harry muttered. "All last year. The more they shut me out, the more I wanted to scream at them."

The anger of his fifth year at Hogwarts came flooding back, strangling his breath and making his heart beat furiously, heat rising to his face. He wanted to defend his friends, but something prevented him. His attention snapped back to Malfoy, who still sat on the grass.

"What the hell is this, Malfoy? One minute you hate me, the next you moan at me about Voldemort and now you're trying to council me? What do you care? What the hell is going on?" he repeated loudly.

Draco looked away from Harry's manic gaze.

"It's all just a game to you, isn't it?" Harry raged, waving his arms. "I'm not playing anymore, Malfoy, all right? I'm fed up of you always trying to get at me! I'm fed up of Dumbledore pretending to give a damn and keeping things from me that have influenced my life so much! I'm fed up of Ron and Hermione pretending to understand and never even coming close! The closest thing I had to a family was just killed by his own cousin and it was my fault he was there! And you think I'm pissed off?"

Harry sagged to the ground, his breathing irregular. A wordless half sigh, half snarl of frustration, anger and remorse escaping his clenched teeth as he let himself fall backwards to lie hard against the grass.

Malfoy had watched him with wide eyes, dragging his legs up to his chest and hugging them to himself. Now he sat in the same position, so silent that Harry had almost forgotten he was there. He heard a faint rustle of robes as Malfoy stood up and a long fingered hand was thrust into his field of vision. Wordlessly, Harry grasped it and the blond-haired young man hauled him to his feet and pushed his Firebolt into his hand. He stared into the expressionless grey eyes, unblinking.

"Come on, Potter."

Malfoy broke into a run down the pitch, jumped lithely onto his broom and launched into the air, in one smooth motion. Harry stared after him for a moment, then ran after him, flinging himself into the sky and raced after Malfoy's diminishing form. Once again the thrill of flight lifted his spirits; although he wasn't quite smiling, yet he was aware he was enjoying himself. He had never really flown if not training or in a Quidditch match. It felt great to fly with someone just for the pure ecstasy of it, even if that someone was Malfoy.

Harry frowned for a second. He had no idea what was happening with Malfoy, or what had brought about this sudden change. Or maybe it wasn't a change and Harry had misjudged him all this time. But then, no, how could he have? He shook his head. He didn't know.

He had caught up with Malfoy and swung below him and to the right, shadowing him move for move. Draco grinned down on him, his eyes dancing, and put on a burst of speed. Harry matched him, then overtook him, flying in front and taunting the other boy. Harry pushed himself into a gradual climb, Malfoy following closely. Then without warning, Harry shot to the left into a steep dive, one flash of light reflected from his glasses as he turned to check if the other was following. It was all the challenge Malfoy needed.

Harry plunged towards the ground, accelerating hard, his breath in his throat. He pushed his feet down on the silver rods at his broom's tail, levering his weight backwards to pull up out of the dive at the last possible moment, skimming the grass lightly and spiralling upwards once more. He turned to see where Malfoy was and was shocked to see the usually pale face ashen.

"What? What is it?" He pulled up next to Malfoy, but the other boy's eyes were staring past him.

"Shit," he murmured.

Harry turned and saw a small group of Slytherins standing at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, with Ron, Hermione and Neville next to them, for the moment unified in their horrified amazement. He flew closer to Malfoy.

"Dinner's over then," he commented dryly.

Draco shot him an acidic glare. "I'm glad you think this is funny, Potter. This is bad; this is very bad."

They were silent for a moment, both considering how to make this look better to their respective friends.

"Sod them," Harry said suddenly, turning back to Malfoy. "You may have been a shit to me ever since I met you, Malfoy, but you're the only one in the whole school who can fly anything worth a damn. So, come on."

"Fine!" Malfoy grinned manically. "Sod friendship, sod allegiance! This is about Quidditch!"

"Exactly!" Harry grinned back and pulled a small ball out of his robes pocket that Hermione had charmed for him to imitate a snitch. He released it and the two of them shot after it, ignoring calls and accusations from their audience.

After an hour of play (Harry had caught the makeshift snitch six times and Malfoy, five), only Hermione and Blaise Zabini were left sitting in the short grass, heads craned back, watching the two Seekers. They hadn't said a word to each other, but shared a glance when the two riders finally came to a halt in the air a way off from them, joking, laughing and actually complimenting each other.

"You're insane, Potter!" Malfoy was laughing. "The only reason you keep winning is because you've got a death wish! You leave turning, and especially pulling out of a dive far too late."

"You just don't have the nerve, Draco." Harry chuckled.

Hermione started at the use of Malfoy's first name. What was going on?

"I have nerve?" protested Malfoy in mock-outrage. "It's just this self-preservation thing, remember?"

"Self-preservation is for losers. You've got to take it when you can."

"You know, for a Gryffindor, you sound an awful lot like a Slytherin, Harry."

Hermione almost choked to hear those syllables from Malfoy's mouth, especially when said in what could only be called a normal tone of voice, almost completely devoid of its habitual sneer.

"Yeah, well, we all have our faults."

Malfoy laughed, Hermione noting how relaxed he looked. She had never seen his face unguarded before, and although every instinct in her body told her this was wrong, that Malfoy was evil, something dragged her mind back to the Sorting Hat's song the previous year. If the two unofficial figureheads of the two most hostile houses could be seen to get along... the thought spun in her head.

"So, fancy a rematch?"

"Yeah, why not? I can beat you twice in a row."

"No chance. After dinner, though."

"That's a good idea." Harry's stomach rumbled as he landed. "It'll be good practice for this inter-school Quidditch Tournament of Hooch's." He turned to face Draco. "Malfoy, I just want to say...thanks."

"Don't mention it. To anyone." Draco smirked.

"You're an irritating bastard, you know that Draco?" They both pulled up, as if seeing Hermione and Blaise for the first time.

"Time to face the music, hey, Potter?"

Harry pulled a grimace.

"Yeah. Does this mean you might be civil to me in lessons from now on?"

"I'm not sure. I'll see how things go tonight," Malfoy said, his smile fading as he saw Blaise put his hands on his hips and mutter impatiently.

Harry caught sight of the direction of his gaze.

"Oh. Right. See you then."

"Yeah. Good game, Harry." Malfoy looked towards Blaise, his expression fixed and determined.

Harry nodded to him, not needing to wish him good luck, and stopped before Hermione. All thought of Malfoy driven from his mind.

"Ron and Neville went back up to the common room?"

Hermione nodded, not sure what to say, whether to shout at him and ask him what the hell he was thinking by befriending Malfoy - the bastard who had made their lives miserable for the last five years - or just to ask him if he'd had a good practice. In the end, she didn't have to make a decision. Harry dropped his broom and enveloped her in a tight hug, resting his cheek against hers. She held him back, noticing how much taller than her he was.

"I was so worried," she murmured into his shoulder. "When you didn't turn up for dinner, I thought that something had happened, especially after Diagon Alley..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you. It's just after last night, the Prophet and what happened in Diagon Alley... He didn't mean it, you know, Mione."

"But he could have killed you, Harry."

Harry sighed.

"I think it really shook him up. I don't think he's as bad as we've always thought."

"How can you be so forgiving? And what about last year? When he ratted on the Army to Umbridge? The look on his face was vicious, Harry; he enjoyed getting you into trouble."

"I won't deny he's a git, but I think a lot of it is for show. Maybe he's starting to grow up at last."

Hermione sighed this time.

"Maybe," she agreed reluctantly. "But this is going to be very hard to explain to Ron, Neville and the rest. They won't understand as easily as me. Ron was furious when he left."

"I don't want to leave him out," Harry said, as he picked up his Firebolt, and they started to walk through the darkened grounds back to the castle. "But there are some things that he just doesn't understand."

"I know, Harry. But, how can either of us understand if you never tell us anything?" she chided him gently, poking him lightly in the ribs. He smiled ruefully and put his arm around her.

"Some things are hard to talk about."

"But you can talk about them with Malfoy?" She couldn't help the note of hurt slipping into her voice. She immediately regretted her words when he stiffened. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, hastily. "But I can't help but feel threatened by him. You've just spent four hours out here with him on a broomstick rather than with your girlfriend."

Hermione relaxed when she felt him chuckle.

"When you put it that way..." he conceded. "Don't worry, Mione, you have nothing to worry about in that respect." He sighed. "What am I going to say to Ron? That I just played a friendly game of catch-the-snitch with my school nemesis? The git that taunts him every chance he gets? That I think he regrets being such a bastard, but has to put on a front to protect him from some of his own housemates?" He shook his head. "I don't know what to do, Hermione. Malfoy is still a smug gimp, but I think he might just be all right. How will Ron understand that without thinking I've betrayed him?"

"He's your best friend, he'll understand."

"You know us both better than that, Hermione. He's going to go spare at me, and I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from saying something I might regret. He has everything I've ever wanted and still he moans about it. Just stop me, please Mione, if I start to say something stupid?"

"I'll try. Perhaps if you start from the Quidditch practice angle? But you should tell him everything. Honesty is the best policy, and all that." She squeezed his hand lightly as they ascended the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

He bent down to kiss her, his hands around her back drawing her close to him, trying to keep his Firebolt out of the way.

"Thanks, Mione," he said as he drew away.

"Mmm," she mumbled into his chest. "I'll do almost anything for you if you do that again."

"What, this?"

She laughed against his mouth as his hands traced ticklish circles along her sides.

"No! Don't!"

She pushed him away against the wall outside the portrait hole and pushed herself against him, kissing him hard. He stopped tickling her, his breath catching and eyes closed.

The loud clearing of a throat behind them caused them to break apart in shock.

"My, my, what guilty consciences you two must have." The Fat Lady was smiling at them benignly.

Harry and Hermione sagged against the wall in relief.

"Good evening," Harry said politely.

"Hi." Hermione looked faintly embarrassed.

"Are you going to give me the password so I can get some peace?" The Fat Lady had a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh.

"Oh, yes. Venomous Tentacula," Hermione supplied, dragging Harry forward by the hand as the portrait swung forward.

"God, Hermione, where did you learn to kiss like that?" he whispered as they stepped into the darkened common room. Only a few students were there, sitting around the fire playing chess and talking, although there was a lively game of gobstones going on in the far corner.

"Just something I picked up."

"From who?"

But Hermione just smiled at him, infuriatingly. He turned to sit in one of his, Hermione and Ron's favourite set of chairs just to the right of the fireplace, and saw Ron standing on the second stair up to the boy's dormitories with Neville and the rest of the sixth year boys, one hand on the wall, staring at Harry, his expression inscrutable.

Hermione squeezed Harry's shoulder and sat down next to him, beckoning Ron over at the same time. Ron looked away in disgust, but moved over to them nevertheless, the others following slowly in his wake. The common room had hushed, sensing the tension, all eyes on Ron and Harry. Ron stopped in front of the small circle of comfortable armchairs, his arms folded and a sneer on his face.

"So, Harry. Got tired of playing with Slytherins?"

Harry stood up to face him.

"Ron, I was not playing with Slytherins. Malfoy and I were just testing each other out for the school Quidditch team."

"Right, so that's what he wanted to talk to you about this morning? Privately? Come on, Harry, I'm not that stupid! You completely ignored us out there! You were more interested in Malfoy! Is something going on between you two? Because I really don't think that's fair to...to..."

Harry laughed gently, sharing a look with Hermione. Their relationship wasn't exactly public news.

"No really, Ron. There's nothing going on between us but Quidditch. Look, I promise you, Ron, that if something were going on, I'd tell you. I really want to make the school team, and Malfoy's the best Seeker out of all the other teams. It makes sense that we train together. Anyway, this is about Hogwarts against the world, not our houses." Harry stepped forward and put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Maybe you could join us? You could beat the Hufflepuff Keeper hands down. You'd be great on the school team."

Ron's expression had relaxed, and a small smile tweaked his cheek.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, of course. Anyway, I want to see a repeat of your famous match last year, since Hermione and I missed it."

Dean punched Ron on the arm from behind.

"He'd better get practicing if he's going to pull off another match like that."

"That was no fluke!" Ron cried indignantly, but he was still smiling.

Grins broke out among the eavesdropping Gryffindors; tension in the common room was never a good thing, especially when Harry and Ron fought.

"I've got to admit, though, Harry," Dean said, as the other sixth years came to sit down with them, "we were really worried when Ron and Neville came back raving about how you and Malfoy were messing about on the Quidditch pitch."

"You have nothing to worry about, honestly. It wasn't exactly friendly."

Harry could sense the tension in the room rising again, but to be fair to them all he could understand why him being caught on friendly terms with the boy they all loved to hate would upset them. Hermione slipped out of her chair to make way for Neville, and sat on the arm of Harry's. Harry recognised the diversion and pulled her onto his lap, making her squeak in surprise. Besides, he liked being close to her.

"So, Harry," Seamus said, arching an eyebrow suggestively.

"So, Seamus?"

Harry raised his back.

"You owe him a Galleon," Neville said, grinning.

"What? Why?"

"Oh, I bet Seamus that you two wouldn't get together until Christmas."

"Yeah, Dean has no faith in romance. When we saw you guys in Diagon Alley, I knew the countdown had started."

Hermione laughed.

"You lot had a sweepstake on us?" Harry asked, unbelievingly.

"Nothing to do with me. I had no idea." Ron said, waving an arm carelessly and nearly knocking over a glass pumpkin juice on the table by his arm. It was saved by Lavender, who had just come in through the portrait hole with Parvati.

"Hey, everyone."

"Ahh, look at Harry and Hermione!" Lavender nudged Parvati.

Parvati turned to Dean. "You owe me a Galleon."

"I'm glad to see Hermione and I are such a franchise. Perhaps we should ask for a cut of the profits?" He nuzzled Hermione's ear, and she leaned into him.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at Dean. "Perhaps we should ask for compensation for the infringement on our personal lives?"

The conversation degraded into teasing banter, and when Neville suggested a game of Exploding Snap, the Gryffindor sixth years played and talked late into the night. Harry felt warm and relaxed, glad at last to be back at Hogwarts and with his friends. He had drifted off to sleep against Hermione's shoulder.

"Go to bed," Hermione was saying, shaking his shoulder gently.

Harry opened his eyes to find the common room deserted, save for Hermione and Ron. The fire had died down and the lighting was low in the room. He yawned and stretched.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Ron said, standing up.

"Ron, wait a sec." Harry sat up; Hermione still sat in his lap. "I wanted to talk to you, without the others around. About Malfoy."

"Yes?" Ron sat on the arm of one of the chairs opposite Harry.

"Well, it seems he knows a lot about things."

"What things?"

"The Order, the situation outside of Hogwarts. He hinted that there are other groups that support Voldemort." Harry paused, looking at Hermione as well. "He also seemed to know a lot about me."

"About you?" Hermione echoed nervously.

"He knows things about me that happened before Hogwarts, that I haven't told anyone, not even you two." Harry looked away, really not wanting to think about it. Draco had dredged it all back up again, and coupled with his continued ache over Sirius, he could feel it all rising to swallow him.

"You don't have to tell us these things if you don't want to," Hermione said, stroking his hair at the back of his neck.

Ron looked like he was about to ask a question, but closed his mouth at a look from her.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, guilt rising in him at the other secrets he was keeping from them. The prophesy hung in his mind, something he had tried to forget, and was in no way ready to share. He hoped Malfoy didn't know about that. "What really worries me is how Malfoy knows. I mean, he said that there are people watching me, and us, constantly, even in Hogwarts."

He didn't say that Draco knew his worst secret, how close he came to being in Slytherin. Dumbledore may have tried to reassure him in his second year that he was put in Gryffindor for a reason, but the doubt still niggled at him. Should he really be in Slytherin? So much would be different if he had.

"What can we do about it?"

"The only thing we can do is for Harry to try and get more information out of him."

"Hermione! You can't encourage this!"

"Ron, come on. It's a really good opportunity."

"But how can we trust him? He's a Malfoy! The most evil Slytherin in the school!"

"He seemed sincere, Ron,"

"Harry, you'll trust anyone!"

"Why don't we just give it go?"

"Hermione! I can't believe you want Harry to continue this!"

"I'm meeting him tomorrow, anyway," Harry put in, shifting Hermione and standing up, yawning. "I'm going to go to bed. It's been a long day."

He bent to kiss Hermione, and with a muttered 'Night, Ron' through another yawn, headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, one hand on the wall. He undressed quickly, dragging on plain pyjama bottoms and slipping between his blankets, drawing the curtains as he lay down. The snores of his other roommates drifted around him as he tried to relax. He heard Ron come in and get ready for bed, and when his snores joined the others', Harry was still only drowsy.

He realised that he hadn't taken his potion from Madam Pomfrey. He reached through the curtains and grasped the bottle of the stuff that was by his bed and took her recommended dose. He lay down again, the drapes above him starting to swim, and he fell asleep.

Harry tossed in his nightmare, an incoherent babble of sound and colour. He couldn't make out any words, but there were cries and angry shouts in the middle of cold and calm commands. Pain flared across his scar and his chest, adding his own cry of pain to those in his dream, and he convulsed wildly, battling against a feeling of euphoria. He was aware of his curtains being thrown back and strong hands trying to pull his own clutching claws away from his head. He thrashed wildly as the pain became worse, burning him. Harry's movements became steadily weaker until he went limp and pliable, unconsciousness blessedly claiming him, the pain a faint residue in his aching limbs.