Mirror Tricks

07/? - Already Initiated.

Harry sat, fully dressed in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, on the side of his bed, swinging his legs to test out the twinges he could still feel in them. He felt much better, save for some brief, but acute, nausea after another round of potions from Madam Pomfrey. Apparently she was pleased with his progress, although he had caught her watching him intently twice so far that morning. He sighed, closing his eyes, and tried to settle his stomach.

"Good morning, Harry. I trust you are feeling better?"

Harry's eyes snapped open in surprise to see Dumbledore standing about ten paces away from him. Harry was astonished that the old man could move so quietly; indeed, he hadn't even heard the door open.

"Oh! Morning Professor. You startled me."

Dumbledore smiled.

"My apologies, Harry. Are you rested?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm anxious to start my lessons."

The headmaster walked towards Harry and sat opposite him, arranging his heavy purple robes around him.

"Before we begin, Harry, I would like to ask why you would like me to teach you Occlumency?"

Harry frowned in confusion.

"I thought - Professor McGonagall said you both thought it best that I learn to guard my thoughts and dreams as soon as possible."

"Yes, that is true. I was just curious as to why you have changed your mind. I recall you being quite reticent about your lessons with Professor Snape."

Harry made a face, remembering those lessons well. His stomach plummeted as he remembered that Snape now knew Harry had been so nearly Sorted into the Potion Master's own house.

"I realised," he spoke at last, pushing the memory from him, "after last night, that there is little I can do to help the people I see." He looked away from Dumbledore's intent gaze. "It was something Professor McGonagall said. The dreams cause more problems than they solve. I doubt that Voldemort has forgotten this link, and he could easily use it against us again." Harry looked up, his eyes welling (with tears?) but defiant. "I won't let that happen again. I will not put my friends in needless danger."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"Thank you, Harry," he said, a small twinkle returning to his blue eyes. He stood up and began to walk about the infirmary, every now and then turning to Harry to emphasise a point. "I believe, Harry, that why your first attempt at Occlumency failed was because you wanted it to." When Harry didn't say anything, Dumbledore continued. "Now, however, I am relieved to find that you are indeed of the right frame of mind in which to pursue our goal once more. I will not lie to you Harry, this will be hard on you, and I do expect you to apply yourself completely. Now, I think we should concentrate on a different method than that which Professor Snape went through with you." He stopped pacing and turned to face Harry.

"Harry, if you would come over here?" Harry obeyed as, with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore sent the numerous beds in the infirmary shooting to the sides of the room, creating a surprisingly large space in the middle, bathed in the early morning sunlight.

"We will start with the most important aspect of this magic for the time being. Now, Voldemort attacks you with his Legimens when you are asleep. He is therefore generally at some distance from you, and you have no physical target to retaliate against. Hence, you will not be needing your wand."

Harry looked at his wand, ready in his hand, as it frequently was these days. He hadn't realised he had become so nervous of late. Well, at least it was different from the suffocating anger of before.

"There are no incantations in true Occlumency, Harry. It is a discipline of the mind, and it is therefore with your mind that we shall be working. We will see how to block someone who is attempting to enter your mind and influence your thoughts, and also how to expel someone if they do get past your defences." He looked at Harry then, his head cocked to one side. "I have noticed," he continued, "that closing off your mind, and indeed your true feelings, for that matter, has become a speciality of yours. Not always advisable, but admittedly in this case, imperative."

Harry was baffled for a moment, and tried not to let his confusion show by keeping his face as straight and attentive as he could. Dumbledore laughed merrily.

"Very good, Harry, very good! I should have expected no less. Indeed, that is the very method you should find most productive, only instead of preventing the play of emotion across your face, transfer it to preventing its play across your mind. In essence blanking out the presence of your thoughts from outside observation." Dumbledore abruptly sat on the wooden floor of the infirmary, cross-legged as if he were the student. "It might help at first to make yourself comfortable, Harry."

The headmaster opened his hand to invite Harry to sit also. Harry sank to the floor, suddenly surrounded by squishy yellow and orange pillows. He imitated Dumbledore by pulling them close around him and sitting on another, and found that he was very comfortable indeed.

"Right, Harry. Now, the trick is not to be tempted or distracted away from your goal by me, or anything else in this castle. We are indeed surrounded by many interesting and curious things..."

Harry had closed his eyes to ready himself, hearing Dumbledore's voice in the middle distance. He made his mind like the blank canvas he had envisaged Dumbledore's words to mean and tried to ignore the background sounds of the castle. He began to feel drowsy quite quickly, but tried not to think about it, concentrating on being dull and blank.

Images began to form in his mind, like photographs, although their clarity was blurred as if by water or fog. He saw the castle grounds high from the air, the Quidditch pitch in closer view, swarming with players and fans, and then Hermione's face animated with laughter. His grip on his dull canvas slipped and gave way, his head assaulted with sounds and images that he couldn't make sense of, clamouring inside his mind, straining to get in. He felt himself dropping as if from a great height, to land slap in the centre of his pile of cushions.

Harry opened his eyes, feeling sick and slow, to see Dumbledore leaning over him, shaking his shoulder gently. He sat up gingerly, muscles protesting.

"Oww," he groaned, squinting.

Dumbledore smiled.

"It is rarely a pleasant experience, having your mind invaded," he said. "Once you have your breath, describe to me what you attempted and how well you think it worked. Then describe how I entered your mind."

Harry took a deep breath, thinking about what had been requested of him.

"Well," he said after a few moments. "I tried to make my mind dull and blank, as if to say 'there's nothing here'. I thought that if nothing of me could be found then... then I would be left alone." He paused. "I think it could work better if I had more resistance. I don't think I resisted so much because the things I saw weren't bad things." Harry stopped, feeling stupid. "That was how you did it. You showed me things I would want to see, things I wasn't afraid of, so I wouldn't think them a threat."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"This is one of the hardest lessons we must learn; that the things and people we love can be used against us." He sighed. "It is a lesson I believe you have begun to learn already. Once learned it must never be forgotten. Voldemort may be a Dark wizard, but he knows well how good-natured people operate. He attacks through our good intentions, as we have seen, and is ruthless and mindless of what he destroys to gain his ends. Let us continue."

Harry prepared himself again, suddenly aware of the rushing of blood in his ears. He fought for control, making his mind blank, but a harsh, malevolent weight pushed at him. He knew it was in his mind, but he could feel it as though it was against his whole body. Resisting was not enough, he realised. His blank canvas could be seen through. It was time to push back. In his mind he put up a wall and pushed at whatever was behind it, forcibly willing them out of his mind. He recognized it was much like resisting the Imperius Curse, although no instructions were being forced on him. He repelled with all his might, grinding his teeth in desperation, he could feel sweat breaking out across his body. The darkness was becoming more complete, enveloping him and he once again gave way.

He lay on his back, panting heavily, feeling weak and exhausted. The cushions that before had felt so soft and inviting were now making him feel claustrophobic, and he knew he was about to hyperventilate.

"It's all right, Harry, breathe easily; you are safe."

Dumbledore was pulling the cushions away, leaving him lying on the hard wooden floor. Harry gulped air and tried to relax.

"Headmaster!" Came the scandalised tones of Madam Pomfrey. "I really must protest! The boy has been out of bed for mere hours and look at him!"

Harry groaned and forced himself to sit up, his breathing slow and measured, although still a little ragged.

"I'm all right!" he insisted, waving the matron off irritably. She subsided, walking back to her office, muttering about fool-headed boys not knowing what was good for them.

"Well done, Harry." Dumbledore was smiling. "You successfully deterred me for quite some time. I had to resort to brute force to push through. Why do you think you fared better this time?"

Harry shook his head, collecting his thoughts. That was better? He felt like he'd been mauled by a hippogriff. And then stamped on. Hard.

"It was more physical," he gasped out. "It was like fighting the Imperius Curse, just without a command to counter. I could push you away because it felt so... evil," he said, for want of a better word.

Dumbledore was nodding his head.

"Very good. So, we have found out this morning that it is easier to fight something that feels more physical and malevolent than something that is familiar and ephemeral. We have identified your weaknesses and established your considerable strengths." Dumbledore broke into a cheery smile. "That was an exemplary first lesson, Harry. You must have learned more than you expected from Professor Snape."

Harry was perplexed, and due to his exhaustion didn't bother to hide it.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't understand. You completely rode over me. Both times."

"Harry, look at the time," his headmaster instructed.

He looked at his watch and his eyes widened in disbelief. It was half past twelve. Where had the past four hours gone?

"Morning lessons are about to finish. Why don't you go down and join your friends? If you'd like to meet me back up here at two thirty, Harry, I have some business I must attend to."

Harry was left sitting on the hard infirmary floor in a daze as the sprightly Professor virtually leapt to his feet, showing no sign of stiffness or fatigue, and exited the room with a small wave of his hand. It took Harry three careful stages of coaxing to get his limbs to agree to support him, then he ambled slowly down to the Great Hall.

~*~

Harry became very conscious of the fact he was not wearing school robes when he arrived at the Great Hall. Lowering his head to avoid people's stares and whispers, he headed to where Ron and Hermione were waving at him from the Gryffindor table. He winced as he sat down, having to hold on to Hermione's shoulder to stop himself from falling.

"What have you been doing?" she asked, her eyes wide at his pasty face and shaking hands.

"Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore. Ouch!" he hissed as he took the bowl of chips offered by Ron without realising how heavy it was. "Thanks," he said as Hermione held it for him. He loaded his plate, and reached for his goblet of juice, which he drained in one go.

"Well, at least you've got your appetite back," Hermione said, smiling out of the corner of her mouth.

"It's exhausting."

"Looks like it."

"I'll bet it's interesting, though."

"Yeah, it is. I'm not sure how I'm doing half the things I'm doing, especially without my wand, but Dumbledore said I was doing really well."

"Good. Maybe then we can all get a whole night's sleep."

"Cheers, Seamus."

"I was only joking!" Seamus held up his hands for protection as a hail of angry glares assaulted him from the other sixth year boys and Hermione. "Glad to hear you're all right, Harry."

"Thanks." Harry smiled slightly, and reached for more pumpkin juice.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny called from further down the opposite side of the table. She continued when Harry looked up inquisitively. "We were just wondering when we're going to start Quidditch practice again? We need to find three replacement Chasers since Angelina, Katie and Alicia left."

"Why're you asking me? McGonagall hasn't chosen a captain yet, has she?"

"Well, you're the only real veteran player on the team," Ron put in. "You're the obvious choice."

"I think we should wait until McGonagall decides." Harry looked around at their disappointed expressions. "Well," he capitulated. "We could go out tomorrow evening. But it would have to be recreation only. I'm not allowed to train until I've finished my Occlumency lessons."

Smiles broke out throughout the remnants of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There were instant requests by non-members to come and watch. It seemed like most of the House wanted to attend.

"It's not a trial!" Harry exclaimed. "And in any case, I'm not captain."

"Yet," muttered Dean, smiling widely, as Professor McGonagall approached their end of the Gryffindor table.

"Potter, a word, if you will."

"Certainly, Professor." Harry got off his bench and followed her out of the Great Hall, trying to ignore the knowing looks from his housemates.

"Potter, how was your lesson with the Headmaster this morning?"

Harry couldn't help but be disappointed. He had to admit then that he really did want to be Quidditch captain.

"Oh. Really well, Professor. He said I was exemplary."

"Did he indeed? That is excellent news, Potter. With some more hard work I'm certain you will master this quickly. Then perhaps we can all go back to having a full night's sleep?" She smiled slightly at the expression on his face. "You may return to your lunch, Potter."

As Harry turned to go she stopped him.

"How does the Quidditch team look this year, Potter?"

"It needs work," he admitted honestly. "We need to find three Chasers and get them up to scratch before November. Our Beaters need to learn to work together better; we were rather spoiled with Fred and George. I'm especially confident in Ginny, although I do suspect she'd rather be a Chaser. Ron's confidence has been incredibly boosted since our last match of last year, I'm only sorry I missed it." Which suddenly reminded Harry of Hagrid. He must go down and see him soon. "All in all, I think we'll have a fair chance," he finished as he realised he'd let his enthusiasm run away with him. But McGonagall was smiling.

"Then be sure to train them well, Captain." She handed him a small scarlet badge with a yellow curling 'C' embossed on it.

Harry's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face.

"This will mean a lot of hard work, Potter, especially if you want to enter for the school team as well. But I have every confidence in you. Good luck, Potter."

"Thank you, Professor!" he said, gripping the badge tightly in his hand, knowing she knew exactly how much this meant to him.

"Off you go, then."

Harry nodded, beyond words, and sprinted back towards the Great Hall. He stalled and walked calmly into the Hall, aware that all the Gryffindors' eyes were upon him, but couldn't keep the grin off his face. He stopped at the head of the table next to Ron and Hermione who seemed beside themselves to find out what he was smiling about. Harry took the badge and pinned it to his t-shirt, and when his hands fell away to reveal the shining metal, the Gryffindor table erupted. Everyone was calling out congratulations and telling him how well they knew he'd do as captain.

"Congratulations, Potter," said a quiet voice behind him when the noise had died down.

Harry spun around to see Malfoy, obviously trying to look inconspicuous and failing.

"Thanks. It's what I've always wanted." Harry still couldn't help smiling.

"Well, you deserve it."

Harry looked around to see if anyone was watching them. He nodded to Hermione briefly, and beckoned to Draco as he walked out of the Great Hall.

"Draco," he said when they were alone. "I really appreciate the way you've been around Ron and Hermione. I just wanted to say thanks."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably.

"It's obvious Weasley hates me, but Granger seems willing to give me a chance."

"He'll come round, don't worry," Harry said, clapping Draco on the shoulder as he would do Ron, without even thinking about it. Draco was stunned for a moment, but recovered his poise almost immediately. "I just wanted to ask you, what changed your mind about us?"

Draco looked at him for a moment, and decided he was sincere.

"I haven't, not about them. I... had a bit of an eye opening experience this summer. It made me, I don't know, sort of re-evaluate my priorities, you could say." He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to think about that night. He shuddered almost imperceptibly. But Harry noticed.

"Hey, if you ever want to talk about it...?"

"Give over, Potter." Malfoy made a face, but was secretly rather relieved. It had been hell in the Slytherin dungeons with his whole house suspicious of him and only Blaise to talk to. Blaise was good company, but it wasn't what he wanted. Draco hated to admit it, but he wanted a friend. As Harry's face fell, Draco pitched in to save himself,

"Still on for tonight, though?"

"Sure." Harry smiled again, bringing back the sun to Draco's light-starved eyes.

Draco nodded. "See you there." He turned to go back to the Great Hall. "You look much better than yesterday, Potter. Slightly less green." He disappeared through the double doors, leaving a momentarily stunned Harry to burst into laughter.

~*~

At five o'clock Professor Dumbledore released a rather bruised and shaken Harry to his free evening, but not before Madam Pomfrey snagged him for his evening potions. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, although grateful that the majority of his aches had now been magicked away, he wandered down the wide stairs to the entranceway and the Great Hall for a much-deserved dinner.

Harry had worked doubly hard that afternoon, and Dumbledore had pushed him relentlessly. Harry had been buoyed up on his promotion to Quidditch captain (for which Dumbledore had congratulated him with a wide smile) and, surprisingly, on his conversation with Malfoy. He felt strangely pleased that the other boy had come up to him to wish him well.

Harry was smiling again by the time he reached the Entrance Hll. Hermione was waiting for him there. He went over to greet her, and she lifted her face to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your own," she said as he held her hand. "I didn't really get a chance at lunch."

Harry smiled remembering the crush around him to shake his hand. It was one of the very few times when he had welcomed the attention. He felt like he'd actually got something he deserved, and hoped that he would make a good captain for the Gryffindor team. After all, he thought, they really deserve a captain who can do a good job.

They spent a companionable dinner together, talking about the lessons he'd missed and their plans for the first Hogsmeade weekend, despite the face it wasn't until the end of October. Hermione complained vocally that they hadn't had a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson so far, because apparently their new teacher wasn't available yet. Once dinner was over, Harry accompanied Ron and Hermione up to Gryffindor Tower to collect his broom. Ron still wasn't entirely happy about Harry meeting Malfoy, especially since he insisted on going alone, but was forced to concede under the glares of both Harry and Hermione.

"I trust Harry, even if you don't," Hermione said irritably, as Harry said he would see them later and exited through the portrait hole.

"It's not Harry I don't trust!" Ron hissed back at her. "It's Malfoy. He still hasn't really helped us with anything-"

"He's told us that there are other factions outside of the Death Eaters, and of this 'Circle' of Voldemort's."

"Well, I won't be happy until he names names," Ron said stoutly, crossing his arms across his chest in such a stubborn manner that Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"Really, Ron, what are you like?"

He looked a bit hurt, but subsided with good grace when Ginny and Dean came over and suggested a game of Gobstones. Ron told himself he was only playing to pass the time until Harry got back.

~*~

Harry jogged down the steps from the front of the castle and saw Draco walking ahead of him, nearly at the Quidditch pitch. He broke into an easy run to catch up with him, and tapped him on the arm when he drew level. As he did so, Malfoy literally jumped out of his skin and spun to face Harry, his wand out and levelled.

"God, you scared me, Potter!"

"Sorry." Harry smiled, trying to get his breath back, both from the run and the shock he had received at coming face to face with Draco's wand. "You all right?"

Draco looked at him for a moment, shook his head and carried on walking.

"Hey, what is it?" Harry persisted as Draco moved away.

"Look... it's nothing."

That caused Harry to almost miss a step.

"It doesn't look like nothing from where I'm standing."

Give the guy credit, Draco thought as he continued walking, he actually sounds like he cares.

"Look." Potter was unrelenting. "I can't force you, but you might feel better talking about it."

"Do you feel better talking about things?" Draco's tone was almost acid.

"Not always," Harry said, his eyes glazing slightly. "Just sometimes. Flying helps, though."

"That's true enough. Did you bring that snitch of Hermione's?"

"Yep."

Harry pulled it out of his jeans pocket.

"You're going to have to go easy on me today, I'm afraid, Drake, I'm stiff as a board after lessons with Dumbledore."

Draco blinked at him. Firstly, Harry had called him 'Drake', something only his grandmother had called him when he was small; secondly Harry had asked Draco to go easy on him. He shook his head; life did not compute.

"Harry, I can never beat you." His eyes were wide and frank, surprising himself with his own honesty.

"That's not true. You've been inches away from beating me on any number of occasions. You're a great Seeker."

Draco laughed bitterly.

"Come on, Harry," he said, sitting down on the grass bank between the Quidditch pitch and the castle, looking down at the grounds below. "My father bought my way onto the Slytherin team and you know it. At least Granger could see that." He threw his Nimbus 2001 to the floor beside him.

"I know that you're the only other Seeker at this school who has got close to me. I've said it before and I'll stand by that."

"What about Diggory? He beat you to the snitch in third year, as I recall."

A spasm of pain crossed Harry's face and he looked away. He still couldn't bear to hear Cedric's name spoken. He had so much guilt inside of him: Cedric, his parents, Sirius, and they were just those who had died. Many more had been hurt because of him: Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Mr Weasley... the list was endless.

"Hey, what did I say?" Draco sounded casually worried.

"It's all right," Harry said, smiling briefly and unconvincingly. "Just another one of those things you can never talk about."

"Cedric Diggory? Oh, shit." Draco punched the ground in sudden anger. "I finally get a real friend and all I do is insult him," he muttered, bitterly, almost oblivious of Harry listening.

"Hey, Drake, you didn't insult me, don't worry. You've done worse than that in your time." Harry grinned at him, immediately lightening the mood. It was strange how Draco naming him a real friend could make him feel so jubilant. "So, are you coming, or what?"

"Yeah," Draco said, standing up and grabbing his broom.

The jumped into the air from where they stood and zipped down to the Quidditch pitch, skimming the grass to make themselves feel like they were going faster. Harry released the snitch and the two of them spent a pleasant hour zooming after it, neither counting how many times they caught or lost it.

Despite the physical exertion, Harry began to feel cold, a chill stealing over his limbs, robbing them of his strength. It appeared Madam Pomfrey's potions wore off if you exercised, Harry thought in annoyance, for he was really enjoying this time spent with Malfoy. He pulled up as his side began to cramp.

"Draco!"

He called, but the other boy didn't hear him, having just sped ahead to loop up and catch the makeshift snitch in his outstretched hand. He put a hand to his side, trying to make it easier to breathe. He flew slowly to the ground, and had to practically crawl off his broom as his legs failed to convincingly support him. He lay on the ground with his hand still pressed to the stitch-like pain in his side, his right leg bent up at the knee, feeling like a fish out of water.

"Harry!" he heard Draco shout in alarm, and felt a whoosh! of air as the blond boy landed beside him, also on all fours. "Are you all right? What happened? Where does it hurt?"

"It's... just a stitch..." Harry wheezed.

"Like hell," Draco muttered. "You've over exerted yourself, haven't you? Did Madam Pomfrey say you could fly yet?"

Harry shook his head.

"There was probably a reason, you idiot."

Harry was surprised to find that Draco was actually angry.

"I'm... sorry."

"Look, don't worry. I'll see what I can do."

Draco gently removed Harry's hand from his torso, noticing how he winced as he did so. He started massaging his lower torso, stretching round and under his back. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, as the tension slowly faded out of his tired muscles. He could suddenly breathe much more easily.

"Better?" Draco's hands paused.

"Yes, much. Thank you." He blinked as he sat up, still stiff but blessedly free from pain. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Oh, a magical-sports science course I did last summer," Draco said. "Cramp comes from a build up of lactic acid in your muscles. Often happens when you don't warm up properly, or if you're cold and tired."

"Isn't that a bit close to Muggle sports science?" Harry murmured as he lay back on the cool grass, closing his eyes against the low sun.

Draco laughed shortly, but ignored the question.

"Come on, I'd better get you back up to your common room. Your fan club will kill me if I don't return you in one piece."

Harry groaned as Draco pulled him up, half from the stiffness and half from his reticence to leave.

"But I was enjoying myself."

"What, the cramp, my massage, or flying?"

"Well, two out of three's not bad, is it?"

Draco laughed, flinging one of Harry's arms over his shoulder to help him walk.

"You're a wack, you know that?"

"Yep," Harry said shamelessly.

Their progress to the castle was slow, hampered in part by their general awkwardness and part by the fact they had to stop every few metres to stop laughing.

"Stop it, I'm going to drop my broom!"

"You stop it, or I'm going to drop you."

"Is that a threat?"

"A promise. Why do you bloody Gryffindors have to live so far away from the rest of the castle?"

"It is in the castle, just up instead of down. Anyway, it's necessary. We closely guard our secrets."

"Any secret this far upstairs can damn well stay secret," Draco grumbled as they stopped for a breather. "How much further is it?"

"Oh, a little ways yet," Harry said, waving his arm in a general upwards direction, and laughed when Draco growled wordlessly.

After two more flights of stairs and five rest stops later, they pulled up, both of them panting and exhausted, in front of the Fat Lady. She regarded them suspiciously for a moment, then intoned imperiously, Password?"

"Venomous Tentacula," Harry said, and she swung forwards for them, but not before raising one blond eyebrow at Malfoy. "Come on in."

"Are you sure?"

"Anyone who can't cope with it will have to deal with me," Harry declared, smiling slightly.

"That would be a quick fight," Draco muttered, but complied.

They walked through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. Draco's eyes widened. It was a large, warm room, not surprisingly decorated in the Gryffindor colours of scarlet and gold. There was a huge fireplace to the left of the entrance, and many groups of large red armchairs were dotted around the room of many different styles, with mismatched tables between them. That they were mismatched didn't matter to Draco, who was usually bothered by that kind of thing. The welcoming atmosphere of the room overwhelmed him. The Slytherin common room, although wasn't exactly cosy, was still a nice place to sit in and socialise or work, but it didn't have the warmth or the glow of this one, in the high reaches of the castle.

People had stopped and stared at them as soon as they had walked in.

"Hi," Draco said weakly, waving his arm from underneath Harry's.

"Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione came rushing over and almost careened into them in her haste. She helped Draco escort Harry to a squishy armchair that he sank into gratefully and sighed in pleasure.

"What have you done to him?" Ron demanded, moving in on Draco, who took a step back in sudden alarm.

"Nothing!" he retaliated. "The stupid bugger did it to himself."

"It's true, Ron," Harry said, passing an embarrassed hand over his eyes. "I didn't listen to Pomfrey and now I'm paying the price."

"Thank you for bringing him all the way up here," Hermione said, from where she knelt at Harry's side. "You muppet!" she chided him, not exactly gently.

"Hey! I'm sorry. I was just having fun."

He seemed not to have noticed the stiff atmosphere that had descended on the room, or if he had he was purposefully ignoring it.

"Thanks for helping me up the stairs, Draco," he said quite loudly. "Good game, too."

"Yeah, it was good."

Ginny had just come over with Dean when she stopped short, he eyes wide at seeing Draco in the Gryffindor common room.

"Malfoy! What the hell are you doing here?"

Surprisingly, that seemed to break the tension in the room. Harry, Hermione and Draco burst out laughing, Ron joining in.

"Ten out of ten for observation, Gin."

Ginny flushed scarlet, but a small smile spread across her face.

"You buggers," she muttered, as her smile grew larger, "Welcome to the crew," she said to Draco. "By the looks of it, you've already been initiated."

"Just about," Draco admitted, looking at Harry. "But if I have to talk about my feelings one more time... honestly." He shook his head despairingly. "So, what do Gryffindors do for fun?"

"Study," Hermione said, reflexively, and Harry and Ron threw cushions at her. "Aaghh!"

"Play cards, gobstones, chat, Quidditch, the usual." Ginny shrugged.

"Much the same as in Slytherin, then."

"Had you expected it to be different?"

"Well, there was this wild rumour about a sewing-circle..."

The cushions seemed suddenly attracted to Draco, who was bowled over backwards into another armchair. When he emerged from the pile, the whole common room seemed to have accepted that he was there and gone back to their own games and conversations, and the others were laughing.

Truly initiated, Draco thought with a bemused smile. The Slytherin part of him almost twisted in revulsion at what he was feeling, but at that moment he really didn't care. He'd had enough. If all he had to put up with was a little soppiness to have acquaintances (he couldn't quite stretch to friends for all of the Gryffindors) who weren't about to stab him in the back, then it was worth it.

~*~

It was just approaching curfew when Draco reluctantly stood up.

"I'd best be getting back," he said, not sounding too happy about it.

"Yeah, me too," Harry said, stretching and yawning hugely.

"Night, then," Hermione said, reaching up and kissing him.

"See you lot in the morning."

"Do you have to go back to the hospital wing?"

"Yeah, Pomfrey thinks he'll break if he spends one night away from her fussing!"

"Shut up, Ron." But Harry was smiling. "'Fraid I've gotta go." And he joined Draco at the portrait hole.

"Night all."

"Night."

Draco nodded at them.

When they'd gone the four Gryffindors looked at each other.

"That was weird."

"Uh-huh."

"He was really nice."

"Yeah, wonder what's wrong?"

"Ron!"

"What?"

"He was perfectly civil."

"But he's always been such a bastard!"

"Maybe he's changed. He certainly seems different."

"Don't be nice to him, Ginny, he doesn't deserve it."

"I don't know. Harry said he's been through some awful stuff. Wouldn't say what, but with a father like his, you can imagine."

"It's going to be hard to trust him."

"I know, Dean. But Harry does, and that's good enough for me."

"Hermione, you'll do anything Harry does."

"Will not! I've made up my own mind. I think he's all right."

"For now. But how long will that last?"

No one seemed able to answer Ron's question.

~*~

Draco offered to walk Harry back to the infirmary.

"It's all right, I think I can make it," Harry said with a smile.

"I think I had better. You'll get less grief from Madam Pomfrey if you're with someone."

"That's true enough."

"It's on the way down to the dungeons, anyway."

Harry, who knew the truth about where the Slytherin dungeons were from his and Ron's second year polyjuice potion jaunt, didn't say anything.

"Want to fly again tomorrow?"

"Sorry, Drake, I can't. I'm taking the Quidditch team out for a pre-season warm up and check out."

"You'd better watch out you don't collapse, then."

"I will, don't worry. Day after... do you?"

"Yeah, sure. I would check my diary for my extensive list of appointments, but I haven't seemed to have had any recently."

"Being a child of light is boring you?"

Draco faked a swipe at him.

"Believe what you want to, Potter."

Harry laughed. "I invariably do."

There was a pause as their slow footsteps halted outside the door to the infirmary.

"Well, night then."

"Good night, Draco."

The blond boy turned to go.

"Draco," Harry called after him.

"Yes?"

"Want to come up to the common room tomorrow evening?"

A genuine smile had just gained a small hold on Draco's lips.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, well, you didn't turn anyone into a frog tonight, did you? I think you can be trusted."

"But... did you see Longbottom come in, squeak and run out of the room?"

"Ah, he'll get over it. Come on, admit it. You enjoyed yourself."

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Sure. Do you remember the way?"

"Er-"

"I'll meet you in the hall. Eight o'clock?"

"Sure-"

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter! What are you doing?"

"Night, Potter," Malfoy called up the stairs as he scarpered. Harry cursed him and groaned inwardly as he turned round to face Madam Pomfrey and her inevitable bottles of potions.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey."

"Come on, inside and into bed with you."

Harry really groaned this time. He didn't think he could take much more of this.

~*~