Come Hither

Chapter 9

It Crumbles From Within

"Huh, huh, huh, huh..." The air split open in front of him, the world flew past. Harry tore down the dark corridors, half knowing, half-unknowing of why he was running so fast, why he was going back to fetch his wand, what Dumbledore had in store for him, but he was excited.

Then, a force so powerful hit his chest, crushed his heart, stopping it altogether, twisted it, and didn't let go. So powerful, it struck down his last nerve.

"Draco."

Time stills, expands, solidifies, fills the air between Harry's cells, between his eyes, between him and that boy in front of him - barely standing, tittering on the last vestiges of his balance and his pride, hardly moving forward in the dim torchlight of the hallway.

"Draco."

Harry, categorically stunned, every process in his body screeching to a deafening halt, eyes glazed over with a jaded sheen, seeing everything, aware of everything, unseeing, aware of nothing else, doesn't stand there, but is frozen by a power that couldn't be of human function.

"Draco."

Pale face, paler than usual, shone with profuse tears, bare feet staggering.

A force slammed into Harry's back and he found himself hurtling straight for the figure.

"Draco!"

"Dear God, dear God, dear God..."

"Draco!"

As soon as he was within reach of him in the corridor, the other boy's arms flung around him and Harry's own hands held the body tightly as they both twirled to the floor.

Draco was hyperventilating, edgy, and he was holding onto him as though his very life depended on it.

"Potter." It was said in that same broken vein that Harry had heard in the dream... nightmare... only minutes or perhaps hours ago.

"It's okay, it's okay, he's not here."

Draco started crying openly, gripping onto Harry so tightly it hurt. Harry didn't care; he was overwhelmed with such worry and sympathy for him. Draco held onto him firmly, straddling him unknowingly. He shook from head to toe. They sat there, holding each other in the wan torchlight. Draco's broken pants were the only existing sounds.

Harry didn't think about his arch nemesis crying on him - he thought about a boy, Draco, needing comfort from a terrible ordeal only imaginable by the most tainted of minds. He couldn't even approach imagining going through what Draco had, so he cried along with him. His previous mission forgotten, he continued to hold Draco close, tightly, and rubbed him all over consolingly. His vision was a little blurred by his tears, but he saw well enough to notice a shadow flitting past a faraway window; night never held good things - it brought shadows and disgusting visions.

After a few minutes, Draco had calmed down significantly: now he was breathing almost evenly and his grip on him had relaxed somewhat; his knuckles weren't white anymore. And now that the moment of heightened emotion, raw crisis, and crying was gone, Harry was awakened to their intimate positions.

... The short, slender form. Long, platinum-blond hair arranged elegantly on a handsome, smooth pale face; pale feet peeking out from under the robes...

Harry stilled his calming motions, green eyes stunned.

Pale, pure, pliable skin; platinum-blond, long, flowing hair... fingers, so beautiful, long, pale, thin, immaculate, pure...

Harry, in panicked disgust, started delicately extricating himself from the boy. Draco didn't resist, he let go of Harry--

...Feel the heat of warm flesh in contact with his own robes, can feel his body shaking, and it's calling for him, has his name branded all over it. It was his...

--And his face came up, eyes still watery but not spilling over, complexion even paler than usual, white-blond hair falling slightly over his shining eyes - beautiful.

...Face so flawless, artistic, unblemished, pale - an artist's aspiration to capture; lips, small, thin and shell-pink - a drawer's dream to design on canvas...

"Not afraid, my Lord, I'm yours."

"Not afraid, Harry, I'm yours."

...It was his to take...

Mine.

"Potter?"

Harry flung himself off Draco completely, and then started backing up away from him, averting his eyes. The cold hard bricks of the wall jabbed at his back and he covered his face in shame, and for a while, remained like that, but then he looked up from his heated self-admonition to see Draco limping up the corridor leading up to Dumbledore's office. Berating himself profusely once more for his inconsideration this time, he stood up and trotted over him.

"Draco, what- where are you going?"

"The name is Malfoy and stay away from me, Potter."

It was like a cold, finger-nailed slap to the face. "You ju- I held you and all you can say is 'Get away from me, Potter'?" Harry's near whisper wasn't indignant at all, only incredulous.

"Yes, Potter, I would have known if you had a hearing problem. Now - get - away - from me."

Harry stared at the closed off silver slates of Malfoy's eyes, his legs still tracking his progress up the corridor dazedly. Then, suddenly overwhelmed by a rage he couldn't quite account for, he grabbed the other boy and slammed him against the nearest section of wall, and Malfoy's look of sheer terror and surprise didn't make him falter however.

"Listen here! I know what you went through, okay? I saw all of it!" Harry couldn't continue his diatribe at Malfoy's once more shaking form and his horrified expression after hearing his words.

Thick silence descended upon them, stifling everything that existed before it, including Harry's flared anger.

Then, a small, tenuous voice, "You... saw everything he... did to me?"

Harry sighed and nodded. "Yes, Draco, I have a connection with the Dark Lord through my scar."

Malfoy gaped, barely breathing, silver marbles caught between glaring defensively and turning vacant in despair. Malfoy started fighting Harry's grip off, limbs flailing, but Harry danced this dance with him, and fought to keep the other boy from turning away and walking off, but Malfoy was absolutely enraged, but just as suddenly, he lost all impetus.

"What do you want from me?" said the tearful voice, which made Harry guiltily loosen his grip, and Malfoy used this to shake off the last bit of grip Harry had on him. His humiliated eyes bored into Harry. "You want to rape me too? You wan- here..." Malfoy's hands delved for Harry's pyjama bottoms and tore them down, revealing Harry's thighs and penis to the outside world. Draco tore off his emerald robe, spun around, and stood completely naked in front of Harry, bracing his hands on the wall and pushing his arse out in offer. "Then do it, you're no different!"

Harry's mouth worked but nothing came out, so stunned he was at the motion. His hands idly dragged up his pyjama pants whilst his eyes fixed upon Draco's fully naked body, effectively, for the second time that night being offered to him.

... It was his to take...

Mine.

"Malfoy, put your robe back on." The words were spoken deadly calmly, deadly seriously.

Draco whipped around. "Why should I? Don't you want this? You and him are the bloody same!"

"I'M NOTHING LIKE HIM!"

The six surrounding high glass windows and the immediate torches shattered into a million pieces. Harry instinctively lunged forward to shield himself and Draco from the flying shards of exploding glass, and the other boy's hands reflexively wrapped around his neck as his head ducked down into the crook of it. They were cast into immediate darkness, and all that could be heard for the moment in the stark silence was Harry and Draco's erratic breathing and the sprinkling sound of raining glass on the cobblestone floor.

They didn't move but remained in their huddled postures.

Then there was silence again as the last of splattering smithereens died out. Harry found himself acquainted with Draco's body for the third time that night - how familiar, how foreign - warm - evocative. He thought he heard footsteps, which way they were coming from, he couldn't make out.

"Lumos."

Both boys' heads turned to the source of the light.

"Harry." Dumbledore turned to the other boy. "Mr Malfoy," he said with a slightly surprised look at the nude figure and their compromising position.

Malfoy made quick work of ridding himself of Harry's hold, not even bothering to look as embarrassed as Harry did. Then he surprised Harry with his next words:

"I seek your refuge, sir."

Harry's jaw dropped, the warmth of embarrassment in his cheeks dying out swiftly.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was looking to be doing completely well at those words and after seeing Harry hugging a naked student in a darkened hallway strewn with sand of broken glass. Blue eyes pierced into Malfoy's grey eyes, the look all the more intense due to the sole wandlight. Harry's awed face swivelled from Dumbledore to Malfoy, who seemed not to have any qualms about being naked in front of his peer and headmaster but just stood there, shiny silver eyes giving a confident, unwavering gaze at his headmaster, pale hands slightly fisted, alabaster abdomen rising and falling steadily, pale thighs and legs gleaming like two candle sticks in the dark.

Dumbledore's eyes shifted from Draco's to Harry's and back. "Mr Malfoy, if you are serious about seeking my refuge then I will have to have you under an Unbreakable Vow. This is to ensure you don't disclose any information, inconsequential or otherwise, to any... unsavoury characters."

Draco knew the significance of such a pledge; his mother had read him many moral stories of the absoluteness of the Unbreakable Vow when he was younger. Some were tragedies, some triumphs. Would this be his tragedy or his triumph? Would he be a Prince Zerold the Mindless?

"So be it."

Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "That is excellent, then," he declared. "Perhaps we should proceed to my office?" he asked kindly with a sweep of his hand. All of this relatively normal conversation was taking place as though Malfoy here wasn't completely starkers in front of them.

Malfoy turned to Harry and gave him a particularly flat look before grappling around for his robe. Dumbledore angled his wand downwards so that he could find them more easily. Malfoy straightened and slipped it on in silence, then joined Dumbledore's side without a second glance at Harry - a sight Harry would never thought he'd witness; Malfoy had never been pro-Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Harry, I think that earlier plan of ours should wait for far less dire a time. Go have a good night's sleep. We shall meet again at... Ah, yes, it's already Sunday. Perhaps we should make it ten o'clock, then. Ten o'clock in the morning?"

"But I-I..." His eyes inexorably fell on Draco, standing there beside Dumbledore with an impassive face, naked under that robe, bare-footed, vulnerable... Prey or protect... "I want to come with- no, I don't- I-I--"

Dumbledore raised a white, patient eyebrow.

Harry shook his head and walked the opposite way before breaking into a run, away from Dumbledore and Malfoy.

There was something wrong with him.

There was something hugely wrong with him.

"What's going on, Harry?" came Hermione's urgent voice as soon as he stepped into the common room.

Harry's befuddled face turned to Ron, who sheepishly shrugged. "It seemed worse than usual, Harry; I had to tell her."

"And you did the right thing, Ronald," Hermione asserted firmly.

Harry shot him a betrayed look, at which Ron scuffed his socked toes with the floor and muttered under his breath.

Hermione rounded on Harry. "Harry, what the hell is going on? You better tell me or, Merlin, I swear I'll pump your stomach with so much Veritaserum you'll be babbling even your mother's prenatal secrets!"

Ron flinched from the passionate threat, his surprised eyebrows shooting up and camouflaging with his red hair.

Harry was quite taken aback by this as well, and was quite convinced Hermione was capable of all that at the moment; the fire always did make her hair fiercer, scarier, more threatening. "I just had another vision, that's all."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and re-enforced her folded arms. "What was the vision?" she asked primly, pursing her lips expectantly.

"I can't tell you that," Harry said firmly, looking at her straight in the eye. He imagined them troubled and grey for just a moment.

This stark, unusual forwardness floored Hermione, making her recoil and frown a little. "Why can't you tell us?" she prodded relentlessly.

Harry released a frustrated sigh and turned away from her. "I just can't, okay? It's..." He shook his head dazedly, abandoned by words.

Hermione scrutinized him intensely as he stood there, reading every line on his face. All the truths were in his green eyes; Harry unknowingly wore his heart on his sleeve; he was so easy to read. And now he was worried about something... or someone.

"Who is it, Harry?"

Harry whipped back to her, surprised by the accuracy of her words. He should have known Hermione could read him like a book.

"It's nobody," he answered a little too quickly.

Hermione remained silent. She glanced at Ron and then swept her eyes over the quiet, empty, warm-lit common room. In the stark silence, save for the cackling fire, which glittered in her eyes passionately, Hermione said, "You still keep things from us, Harry. I thought we went through that."

Harry thought this wasn't fair. "This is not a secret. It's... I just can't tell you, Hermione. God, it wouldn't be fair, it wouldn't be proper, and you wouldn't want to know. Just... forget it. I do tell you guys everything and I don't keep secrets. But this..." He trailed off, shaking his head in dismay, eyes staring into the distance.

Hermione's heavy look remained on him. "Well, if you think you can tell us then please do, Harry. We understand - we can't pressure you to tell us everything - you have a life of your own, after all." She gave him a warm smile.

Harry found he could afford a small smile of his own in a time like this. "Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione hugged him deeply. Then instantly, the nice, cheery mood disappeared when she pulled back sharply and had a sharp look on her face. "Now it's time you boys go to bed, it's morning already." Ah, and the prefect in her comes out.

Ron made a surreptitious gesture with his hand, making a sweep to his neck with his finger, showing, 'otherwise, we're hippogriff fodder.'

Too bad Hermione caught this just in time before she turned around to head for the girls' dormitory. "Ron, do you want me to go and tell Professor McGonagall that I did just about the whole of your essay?" she asked in a sweet lilt attributable only to one's detriment.

Ron's face screwed up unattractively and then turned awed. "You wouldn't," he breathed incredulously.

Hermione raised a bushy eyebrow and crossed her arms.

Ron gaped, barely believing she could risk losing points from her own House, especially after they had already suffered a huge loss courtesy Snape. But given it was Hermione and her predisposition of following the rules (most of the time), it was possible she was capable of this. He hurried up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, dragging Harry along with him.

They entered the dormitory and went straight for their beds. There was a silence before a tentative, "Goodnight, Harry," came from Ron's bed.

"Goodnight, Ron," Harry said.

This time he made sure to do his meditation before sleeping - he had learnt his lesson - and what felt like minutes later, his eyes still closed, Harry first shook his wristwatch alarm before he processed that he had to press that little button on the side to shut it up finally, which meant opening his eyes upon a new day. He did so and was glad for the now banished noise. This nice contentedness didn't last, however, when an intruding thought reminded him of his breakfast with Cho. Pushing his curtains aside and climbing wearily out of bed, Harry winced as the obtrusive sunlight from his bedside window blasted him full in the face; groaning slightly, he trudged along to the bathroom.

He hadn't slept well. He'd had tormenting visions of a Draco Malfoy limping in the middle of a hallway, his form surrounded by dim torchlight. He had kept seeing dark emerald robes, exposed flesh, his hands roaming over milky skin; kept seeing long fingers taking off his robes; kept seeing his hand grabbing an arse cheek, squeezing, and his finger delving into a hot hole; he kept seeing a pale stretch of neck, bent backwards as he slammed into the naked body; kept hearing deferent voices, deferent eyes, terrified eyes, crying eyes, shaking body, warm body. He hadn't slept well that night at all.

A few minutes later, he joined Hermione descending to the Great Hall, leaving Ron to snore lightly in his bed. It was only close to eight-thirty but Harry knew his friend wasn't going to be seen until the afternoon. He, too, wasn't an early riser but he was glad for waking up this early today, considering his... disturbing dreams, that he had already set the alarm for half eight to meet Cho in the Great Hall.

His mind was torn into two - Malfoy and his terrible situation and Cho Chang and all of her emotional baggage.

Harry and Hermione walked through the massive oaken doors. Harry saw Dumbledore look up and smile at him warmly from the High Table, then continue to chat with Professor Snape, who looked distinctly irritated. Hermione gave him a smile before she proceeded ahead to the Gryffindor table, leaving him to brave the Ravenclaw table, having seen that Cho was already sitting there with her full, intimidating entourage of girls.

She beamed at him as he approached. One of her faceless friends beside her gave up her seat and scooted to the next empty one, and Harry awkwardly smiled at her in thanks as he claimed her seat.

"Good morning, Harry," greeted Cho cheerfully.

"Morning." Harry smiled back.

They remained staring at each other like this for a few seconds before a conspicuous cough broke the moment. Needless to say, they were both secretly very grateful for it. They simultaneously cleared their throats embarrassedly and faced their breakfast, scarlet in the face. When Harry braved a sweeping glance over Cho's friends, he noticed that they too were a little red in the face as they were, as though they even blushed together with Cho apart from giggling with her twenty-four seven, underlining that sense of indestructible girl unity he so loathed. He ventured another quick look at Hermione and saw her smiling by herself as she carefully filled up her plate. Girls...

As they ate, he chatted with Cho and her friends - who disrupted the flow of the conversation with their undying giggling - for a few minutes about inconsequential things, such as this year's O.W.L.s and the DA.

That is, until the doors of the Great Hall opened and in walked Malfoy.

Harry stopped mid-sentence as his jaw dropped and his heart stopped for a second when he saw the blond boy again. His frozen, gaping face tracked Malfoy down the Hall to his seat at the empty Slytherin table, and never once did the boy pay attention to him or anyone else.

Beside him, Cho looked as though she didn't know what to do with herself, given that Harry seemed so taken. Her friends looked uncertain at all of this as well.

There he was, as calm as ever: the same natural subtle swagger, the same arrogantly inclined chin, and the same impassive, grey eyes. There was nothing new, nothing that spoke of the horrors of last night. Harry could almost believe that it never happened at all.

But it had happened! He had seen Malfoy staggering in the corridor, he had seen what happened to him by Voldemort's hands, or prick, rather, and he most certainly had felt Malfoy's body on his own!

Two tables away, Hermione's eyes darted shrewdly between Harry and Draco.

A throat was cleared.

Harry snapped out of his... observation and gazed at the people around him, suddenly finding himself in an uncomfortable silence. Cho's face was closed off and her friends were eating their breakfast religiously, but then, out of the blue, Cho started crying. Harry was too thrown off to be irritated at first.

"So I see," she sniffed, turning wet, betrayed eyes on Harry, and they had a spark to them that had Harry's trepidation growing.

"Sorry?"

"Why don't you just go now and jump him in front of all of us!" she spat tearfully.

Harry didn't understand her words but he guessed they were probably caustic and that the word 'jump' wasn't too complimentary at this moment in time.

"Cho, what are you talking about?" he asked delicately, trying not to aggravate the emotional Ravenclaw.

"You're practically drooling over your food! Does he look better than her? Do you like him? Hm?" asked one girl acidly.

Harry gaped once more. What was she on? "What, Malfoy? Of course not, that's crazy--"

"Oh, she's crazy now, is she?" one of her friends said vehemently in defence of the previous girl.

Bugger. This unity thing was getting tiresome...

"I mean, I don't like him like that, that's disgusting; he's a bloke--"

"Well, you weren't too convincing right then, were you?" another friend accused.

"Oi, this is between me and her, all right?"

The girls made harsh, dismissive sounds, as only girls could, and turned their backs on him.

Harry ignored them and gritting his teeth, he turned to Cho. "Cho."

She shook her head. "It's all right, Harry; I understand."

Wait, this couldn't be happening. Cho was leaving him because of Malfoy? "Wait, you can't honestly believe--"

"You know, I always have rotten luck with boyfriends," she said as he stood up and threw her serviette on her food, "one dies and the other becomes an overnight ponce." She ran out of the Great Hall before Harry could stop her.

He remained standing there, shell-shocked at what just happened: she had left him because of Malfoy. He was temporarily tempted to laugh at it all out of sheer incredulity, and he did, and the girls turned to give him scathing looks, probably thinking him insensitive and inhumane at being capable of laughing after hurting their friend like that.

He turned to Malfoy and saw him tossing his hair out of his eyes as a hand came up to bring his fork to his lips. It was hard to believe that that soul there had been violated, that that person right there had been raped, raped only the previous night. Harry felt that the sympathetic disconcertion usually elicited by considering a victim. Victim. Malfoy would rip his throat out if he were to know Harry thought of him as this. Realizing he was staring again - one girl threw her hands in the air out of exasperation because of this - he immediately skittered over to the Gryffindor table before Cho's friends had something to say about that as well. He could barely process what had just happened between him and Cho. So, it was over, as quickly as it had almost begun? He would have to explain himself later - he couldn't be known as a bloody fag, in his opinion.

He sighed heavily as he sank down into his seat and started filling up a second plate, since he had eaten only a little back at the Ravenclaw table, and it wasn't as though he could go back and reclaim it; no, Harry wasn't going to risk the scorn of Cho's friends.

"What happened with Cho?" Hermione asked with a curious frown.

Harry shook his head, still awash with disbelief. "I don't know. One moment I was talking and smiling with her, and the next, she's crying and starts accusing me of..."

Hermione's lips twitched. "Yes?" she cajoled sweetly.

"They just said some mean things," Harry muttered evasively, unsure as to why he felt even a little embarrassed.

Hermione's chin was quivering. "Such as?" she managed to squeeze out.

Harry hesitated for a moment but then thought why he had to be embarrassed. It wasn't as if it was true. "They just said I wanted to, um, 'jump' Malfoy was the word they used."

She creased her eyebrows, lips still aquiver. "Jump how?"

"Look! It doesn't matter what the--" Harry stopped mid-sentenced when Hermione burst into a fit of laughter, thumping her chest and drops of tears were already squeezing out of her eyelids. If she were any more overt, she would be rolling on the floor. Harry stared at her blankly, but only moments later his own lips turned upwards and he joined her in hysteria.

Finally, Hermione seemed to compose herself, clearing her throat and giving a concluding sigh, and Harry's giggled started fading. "Calmed down much?" Harry asked. He had intended his tone to be derisive but couldn't hit that dry note at the moment.

She drew a deep breath. "Hm, yes. That was good. It was great to have a laugh, especially in these times with these serious issues on our hands."

Harry smiled at this. Yeah, it felt good to feel just 'normal' again, even for a while.

"It's Malfoy, isn't it?" she inserted lightly, delicately carrying the question forward with the lightness of the moment.

"What's Malfoy? Is it Malfoy Day today or something?" Harry asked a little exasperatedly. "Sunday Malfoy Day today. Hey, it rhymes!"

Hermione ignored this tripe. "The vision? It had something to do with Malfoy." It was quite a statement rather than a question, as only she could achieve this. However, she still couldn't make the connection between Malfoy and Harry's visions because she only knew of Harry's scar to give him insight into You-Know-Who's mind exclusively.

Harry's face closed off. Damn her intelligence. She was getting close, too close. He still couldn't tell her. As much as he would be the first to line up for teaching Malfoy a lesson or two, he couldn't dare do that after the bloke had experienced what he did, and especially when he, Harry, had had a front row seat to the torture.

"Malfoy? How can Malfoy be in my visions? I don't think Voldemort is interested in Malfoy enough to pay him any attention; he's just a kid." And, Merlin, he was just a kid and Voldemort was interested in him because his snaky prick had been at attention.

Hermione frowned. "Then why were you staring at him like that when he came in?"

"Because!" Harry exclaimed in frustration, having no answer just yet. "Because... I... choose to." Nice, Harry.

"Because you choose to?" Hermione deadpanned sceptically. "Since when did you 'choose' to check out Malfoy?"

Harry's head whipped up. "I wasn't checking him out!" he said indignantly. "I was- I was assessing him."

Hermione's flat face gave a lazy quirk of a bushy eyebrow.

Harry set his jaw, refusing to answer anything else, and continued eating his breakfast. The girl desisted, thankfully, for Harry didn't hear any forthcoming arguments or questions.

Breaking the tense mood was a fluttering noise. Harry looked up to see a horde of owls spilling into the Great Hall. Since it was nine in the morning on a Sunday, most of the students weren't present, so the majority of the avian mass merely swirled around in the air before eventually retiring with their parcels and flying out of the roof. Harry's heart gave a tiny leap when he saw his snow-white Hedwig soaring in the air with a small, rolled-up missive tied to her leg.

But instead of coming to him, Hedwig flew over to Dumbledore and landed on the shoulder of his purple-coloured robes, with stars and all. This infuriated Harry, who felt violated as it was, knowing of Dumbledore withholding his mail. Hedwig was supposed to be loyal to him only, and now the first person she reported to was Dumbledore? He felt betrayed by her, and so incensed was he, he almost didn't notice the elegant flight of Malfoy's large, eagle owl.

Even Harry had to admit the blasted thing possessed a certain superiority no other owl in Hogwarts even dreamed to approach. Harry scowled as it landed almost disgustingly gracefully on the Slytherin table and waddled on its two legs to the blond aristocrat, its head bobbing and beak high in the air, as though possessing its own arrogance and pomposity like its owner. A gold collar with a precious emerald stone eye embedded in it encircled its neck. The bird held out one leg regally, remaining absolutely still.

Disgusted, Harry turned away from the two of them, imagining what brutal torture the bird had to go through to act so polished. Well, the bird lived, didn't it? It couldn't have been that bad. How much does one have to hurt a bird before it keels over, they were relatively delicate creatures? Although in his opinion Malfoy's eagle owl could be described as anything but delicate. Those powerful-looking talons...

Harry watched as Dumbledore muttered spell after spell on the little note with which Hedwig had flown into the Great Hall, thinking he was tainting and defacing it with every tap of his wand. Nonetheless, he eyed the missive with rapt attention. Would this be another fire-call appointment from Sirius? Upon his shoulder, Hedwig looked positively fascinated with this magical diagnosis: her head bobbed with every tap and her feet shuffled about on Dumbledore's shoulder excitedly, and she occasionally gave a little appreciative ruffle of her feathers when a particularly impressive spell with a nice, bright colour issued.

A few seconds later, apparently satisfied with his thorough check, Dumbledore carefully furled the letter, pushed it into Hedwig's beak, and patted her affectionately before she took off, whereupon Harry looked away before he could think of more disgusted thoughts, though he eyed Hedwig with his peripheral vision as he flew over to him and landed on the table. He would like to think it was just as graceful a landing as the eagle owl over his shoulder had made. Smiling at her, he caressed her feathers, and gave her some toast to nibble one whilst he opened the letter. Hermione, on the other side of the table, was calling Hedwig over. However, the bird remained next to Harry, probably expecting a similar show of colours with his wand as Dumbledore had performed.

Harry,

Your common room fireplace

12:00

Just the same as last time. Harry was somewhat disappointed with this but he pushed it down, comforting himself with the fact that he would see Sirius again tonight, which was far better than were a couple of lines of sentimental words. Face to face (in a way) was more direct and intimate.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as she ruffled Hedwig's feathers, who had waddled over her to after realizing that no lovely sparkles were forthcoming from her useless owner. She now had her eyes closed, basking in the attention of Hermione's ministrations; one could clearly see the absolute euphoria in which she was.

"It's from Padfoot. Same time, same place," Harry replied cryptically.

"Oh." Hermione nodded and continued petting Hedwig.

Harry wondered if Malfoy had received those sweet packets usually delivered by his eagle owl instead of tatty, old, hope-giving missives, and looked over his shoulder just in time to see Malfoy grimace as he looked down at his hand. Malfoy then put his ring to a piece of parchment, which wasn't clearly visible from three tables away. Harry knew there was some kind of authentication spell put on the letter if Malfoy had to use his family ring to open it, as he had seen him do this a few times before.

Wait. When... in his dream, Malfoy hadn't been wearing a ring. Yes, and he hadn't been wearing his 'M' necklace, and he also hadn't gelled his hair as he always did; he had just walked into the room completely naked, figuratively speaking - no jewellery, no hair gel, no shoes. Just bare, natural, pure... Pure. Voldemort had wanted him like that. Harry's heart gave a thud. That word that had encompassed Malfoy that night, that had represented him so eloquently, his pale skin and striking attractiveness only emphasising the whole effect. Harry's blood surged through his body, whether from excitement or just being terrified of remembering how he felt when he was holding Malfoy yesterday in that hallway, he didn't know. He looked at Malfoy's face in intense trepidation for a reaction.

He had known it. As he thought it, Malfoy's eyes widened and Harry could see the letter starting to shake in his hands. Horror for him so unadulterated seeped into Harry's bones so smoothly, he thought it had been there even before he even saw Malfoy's reaction. Malfoy look down at the table, trying to calm himself, it seemed, and then looked up at the High Table. Harry's head whipped over to that point of focus and saw Dumbledore gazing back at Malfoy with a fixed but indecipherable expression. He looked over to Malfoy again and caught the tail of a nod before the boy stood up from the table and strutted out of the Great Hall. Harry's widened eyes tracked the boy's progress to the doors until he learnt once more that one couldn't see around corners.

His investigative eyes turned back to the High Table and saw Dumbledore chatting to Professor McGonagall with a smiling, carefree face. He didn't know exactly what this all meant but he did have an idea, and he didn't like it one bit. Harry turned around to face his plate fully and absent-mindedly went through the rest of his toast and eggs. He hadn't known he had been shaking his head in dismay the whole time until only minutes after Dumbledore excused himself from the High Table, Snape accompanying him. The seated McGonagall had a sharp gleam in her eyes as she tracked the two men's progress, and her lips were compressed into two thin strips of flesh; she was suspicious.

Suspecting that these seemingly isolated incidents (Draco leaving the Great Hall and the two professors departing minutes later) were connected - actually he was hundred percent sure they were connected, since the four of them: Snape, Dumbledore, himself, and Malfoy, had been under one roof together - Harry grabbed his toast, sprinkled some of his leftover scrambled eggs on it to make a sandwich, and left the Great Hall at a medium to quick pace, too dazed to even mislead Hermione with an excuse, however futile it would have been.

As soon as he made it out of the massive room, he broke into a run, heading straight for Dumbledore's office - it was the only logical place to go, but before rounding a corner, Harry all but skidded to a halt and thought that his presence probably wouldn't be welcomed in such a sensitive issue by any of them, if his suspicions were correct; thus, he swiftly changed direction and took off for Gryffindor Tower.

After nearly obliterating that infuriating Fat Lady when she wasn't quick enough to open, doing it in her usually slow, supposedly graceful sweep, Harry took the stairs two at a time and burst into the fifth year boys' dormitory, heading straight for his trunk, thus missing Seamus' rocking bed, which immediately stilled upon his entrance.

Ron was still lightly snoring away in sleep just as he had been when he had left him not too long ago.

Harry flung his lid open and searched desperately for his Invisibility Cloak, and pulling the smooth, flowing material out from under heavy textbooks and other paraphernalia, he stood up and draped it over himself quickly before any of the boys woke up and caught Harry Potter doing a disappearing act.

He made his way out of the room, vacillating between tiptoeing to conform to the visage of invisibility the Cloak was affording him, and just making a run for it, damning the consequences. Harry half-ran in a crouch all the way to the portrait hole, climbed through, and pushed it aside only to see a seriously narrowed-eyed Hermione keeping active guard on the other side.

Harry froze in surprise for a moment before he was forced into action by her hands, which were waving around in the open air to feel for him after she saw the portrait frame swinging open, undoubtedly. Harry backed up into the common room again as quietly as he could, and hardly believed Hermione was stopping him from going to Dumbledore's office.

Hermione slowly inched into the common room, her hands still feeling at the empty air for Harry, whom she knew had an Invisibility Cloak on at the moment, apparently.

"Harry." She said in a manner as though to testing the waters, possibly not wishing to start talking openly if she was alone, thus making her doubt her own mental stability. "Harry, I know you're here. You're wearing your Invisibility Cloak and you're going to follow Malfoy somewhere."

Her eyes whizzed around the room, focussing on suspicious areas randomly. Harry kept silent, covering his ragged breaths with his hand. Merlin, he was wasting time; he didn't have time for this! If he had any chance of sneaking into that office, he had to go now, when someone was going to give the password to the gargoyle, ascend the stairs, and get into the office. He couldn't do all that if he was invisible! He needed somebody to go with, and that pool of 'somebody's was now rapidly diminishing the longer he stayed here!

Hearing no forthcoming response, Harry saw Hermione incline her head and purse her lips resolutely. She backed up in front of the hole and stretched her arms wide, effectively blocking the only way out.

"You're not leaving this room until you come out and talk to me."

I can't talk now, dammit! Harry's panic and anxiety was picking up; he needed to get out of here. Now.

"What's going on?"

Harry turned around in dismay and saw Ron standing at the top of the stairs, bleary-eyed, pyjama-clad, and wearing a frown on his face, looking straight through him to Hermione.

Great. This was getting out of control.

Ron started descending the stairs. That was it. Harry ripped the Invisibility Cloak off and turned angry green eyes on Hermione.

"Get out of the way, Hermione."

The girl's head shot into his direction. She shook her head firmly.

"No, Harry, you're going to talk to us. What's going on? Ever since you came back from the summer, you've been closed off. You laughed and spent time with us, sure, but you're still not the same. When Sirius appears in the fireplace, your whole face shines and you completely forget about us! Then you're busy goggling at Malfoy, apparently having visions of him, and now you're starting to follow him around! Or maybe this is not the first time. What's going on, Harry? Aren't Ron and I good enough for you anymore? Don't we make you happy? ...What's going on with you, Harry?"

Ron shifted awkwardly on the last step of the stairs.

In a calm whisper, "I don't have time for this, Hermione. I need you to get - away - from - the hole... please."

Hermione's eyes shone with unshed tears, but she refused to sway. "Tell us what's happening to you. I think, as your best friends, we deserve to know." Her eyes momentarily shifted from Harry's to Ron, then back.

Harry felt his anger rising. He stepped slowly, calmly, towards the girl. "Get - away - from - the hole. I will explain everything later, I promise." How long would it take Draco to get to Dumbledore's gargoyle? How long would Dumbledore and Snape take to get to the gargoyle?

"Hermione, let him go, he said he'll tell us when he gets back from wherever. Let him go."

Harry could kiss Ron right now.

The words never registered with Hermione. She kept her determined gaze at Harry, unshaken.

This was the one time he wished for something to blow up due to his anger, but it wasn't happening. Perhaps that occurrence was solely reserved for Voldemort, such was his hatred for the man, if you could call him one.

Merlin, he needed to know what was going on with Malfoy. He couldn't stand here and waste time with these emotional frivolities he could deal with when he got back!

It was down to a choice. Choose Malfoy or choose his friends. Choose to find out about what Malfoy's letter entailed or have a hearty talk with his friends. Of course, he would choose the latter; they were his best friends and were very special to him. But this choice was more complicated than that at the moment. He needed to get to that office, it was that simple. He took out his wand.

"Don't make me do this, Hermione." His eyes, too, had become shiny. He didn't fully understood why he was choosing to do this, but he was determined.

Hermione looked floored by his brandished weapon, and her betrayed eyes shifted between it and his own brimming green eyes.

"Oi, mate, that's not necessary, all right?" Behind him, Harry saw with the whites of his eyes Ron's wand clearing his pyjamas and held uncertainly, Ron vacillating between holding it up forwardly and passively. Did Ron carry his wand everywhere, even in the showers?

"I don't know you..." Hermione whispered despairingly as one tear ran down her cheek.

Harry would never admit how much it hurt to hear those words and see to those tears, so he resorted to his anger, it being the emotion he could cope with at the moment. "Look," he growled through clenched teeth, asserting his wand, "this is bigger than all of us, okay? He's suffering and I have to- I have... I have to find out what happened...!" Even to him his words didn't make sense. Only raw emotions were at play here; he couldn't be blamed.

Hermione was shaking her head dazedly, for what, Harry didn't know, and this confusion only added fire to his blazing jades; he unleashed a spell. He had to choose. Let this not break their friendship...

"Petrificus To--"

"Stupefy!"

And just like that, they chose for him. Ron's spell was first to issue, having the least syllables, and Harry's Stupefied body toppled to the floor.