Inrevocabilis Cantanem

Prologue

He kept his eyes closed. He wouldn't have been able to see anything very well, as his glasses had been knocked off of his face long before, but he kept his eyes closed anyway. The blood from his left temple ran the length of his jaw and collected with the blood that ran from the right corner of his mouth. His heavy head drooping, the blood on his chin, mingling with the blood from the gash on his neck, darkened the red and gold of his Quidditch robes. He exhaled shakily but silently and tried to sharpen his hearing. Either he was alone, or whoever had put him here - wherever "here" was - was being extraordinarily silent. He chanced opening his eyes. The room was dark, and the cold, clammy dampness seemed to seep through his robes and burrow into his flesh. He stared ahead into the dark until his blurry eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He raised his head, looking up toward the ceiling. A dungeon, maybe? The Slytherin Dungeons? Slytherin.

"Malfoy?" Harry mouthed.

He looked wildly around, his eyes finally catching a slight gleaming of silver. He looked down. He could just make out the motionless, crumpled body of Draco Malfoy, the silver of his Quidditch robes and pale blond of his hair playing hide and seek with the dark. Harry drew in as much air as he could and made his mind remember what had happened. It was sketchy at best. He was on his broom. Malfoy was chasing him. He remembered landing and laughing heartily, holding the Snitch in his hand. The changing room. Then a voice, a spell. That was it. The last thing he remembered was hearing an incantation. Then darkness.

His mind toyed with the idea of trying to reverse the binding spell that held him to the chair. He realized that he didn't know what spell the caster had used, but he knew that he could figure it out. That and he was getting much better at wandless magic. He fought against the fastenings, but it was no use. He moved his bound feet and realized that a body was crumpled beside him. As he was running through all of the binding spells that he had stored in his mind, a silky, cold voice said from a considerable distance away, "Crucio." Harry recognized it immediately as the voice of Lucius Malfoy. At the uttering of the words, Draco Malfoy's body, laying at Harry's feet, suddenly lurched. A gasp and then a cry of pain expelled themselves from Draco's lips. Harry felt the blonde's body collide against his shins before Draco fell still, small whimpers of pain issuing from him.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly silenced by the sound of approaching footsteps. He swiftly put his chin against his chest, feigning unconsciousness.

Draco's body again contorted and twitched at Harry's feet. The elder Malfoy laughed deeply. The laughter seemed to hover just above Harry's head.

"I never tire of that," he drawled amusedly.

"He really is a beautiful boy."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry thought to himself. "Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange." He was sure, however, that he had heard three sets of feet hitting the hard floor in their approach.

"He's ruined," Lucius spat.

At the word "ruined," Draco's body lurched more violently than it had previously, as if it carried for Lucius the exclamation and fury that his cool voice had excluded.

"He made his choice long ago. For that, he must pay."

Harry felt Draco curl up into a ball, then straighten violently, causing his head to connect with both Harry's foot and the hard floor. Harry suppressed a whimper.

"True," Bellatrix agreed, "but you've got great genes." She chuckled and ran her fingers through his long blond hair.

"Hmm." Lucius almost purred, "Ah, I was mistaken - I've tired of this already."

Harry raised his eyes. Through his curly, matted black hair he could make out the tip of Lucius's wand. It was pointed at Harry's feet where Draco lay sadistically twitching.

Lucius cleared his throat as though ready to make a grand announcement. "Avada - " he began, but a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Now, now, Lucius. We've worked so hard to get them here."

Harry watched in disbelief as a hand suddenly gripped Lucius's wand. He allowed his eyes to travel upward, following the path the wand was taking.

"Lumos," the voice said softly.

Harry's eyes grew wide. Illuminated by the tip of Lucius Malfoy's wand was the face to whom the third set of footfalls he had heard belonged; was the voice which had so calmly stopped Lucius from killing his only son.

Harry looked deeply into the eyes that were set in the face of one of his dearest, best friends. Now those eyes twinkled maniacally. The usually playful, carefree face was carved with a hardened edge. Harry found himself shaking his head, his mouth gone completely dry.

"Oh, yes." Directed at the shocked face of Harry Potter was the beam of light that the wand was casting. "Let's have a little fun, Harry. Shall we? It'll be just like the good old days."

Chapter 1: The Line Between Friends and Enemies

Harry sat in the train compartment on the Hogwart's Express with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Ginny Weasley. Their loud, hearty laughter filled the compartment. Ginny sat next to Dean, her legs thrown in his lap. She was throwing Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in the direction of Seamus's mouth, and then using a levitation spell to guide them in. Seamus's exaggerated expressions conveyed which flavors he was eating, causing even more laughter from the quartet. While she was directing a bean into Seamus's mouth, Dean slyly tickled Ginny's inner thigh, causing her to lose concentration and lodging the bean in Seamus's throat. She quickly jumped up, hitting Dean playfully before running over to the choking boy, and then sitting on Seamus's lap. Seamus had managed to dislodge the bean while Ginny was rushing over to him, but Harry thought Seamus was playing the victim role very well as Ginny coddled and soothed him. He smiled at Dean, who seemed slightly put out, and mentioned to him how excited he was for this last year. Finally Seventh Years.

"Yeah," Ginny said, stroking Seamus's cheek and winking at Dean, "but how sad is this year's Leaving Ball going to be, what with my best mates deserting me? Who's going to take me to my own Ball?" She mock pouted.

"I'll come back and take you," Dean and Seamus said simultaneously.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. Ginny, he decided, had truly come into her own. He figured it had something to do with her being the only girl in her family. She was not shy about her sexual liberation and seemed to take extreme pleasure in watching Dean and Seamus, along with scores of other boys from the Sixth and Seventh Years, fight for her affections. She had, Harry noted, grown from a cute girl to an absolutely beautiful, nearly breath-taking woman.

Ginny was tossing the beans to Dean and levitating them into his mouth when the door to their compartment slid open. All four of the Gryffindors looked over.

Draco Malfoy stood with his back pressed against the compartment door. He had one leg crossed over the other. He stood silently. The four Gryffindors regarded him silently. Turning slightly so that the quartet could see what he was up to, Malfoy lifted the bottom of his robes and used them to shine the silver Head Boy badge on his chest.

Not taking his eyes away from the badge, he smirked and said, "All right then, Scarhead?"

Harry's jaw tensed. "We were doing just fine until you showed up, Malfoy." He spit the name out venomously.

Malfoy scoffed. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he drawled. "Am I ruining your fun, Potter? Were you all about to have a go at it with Easy Weasley?"

Instantly Harry was on his feet, pulling out his wand, and placing it against the base of Malfoy's throat.

"You be careful," Harry said dangerously, "or I'll make that pretty boy face of yours resemble the likes of Goyle's arse."

"Gods," Malfoy nearly groaned placing his hand on Harry's wand, lowering it, and rolling his eyes. "That was a low blow, Harry."

"Oh, yeah? What about 'Easy Weasley,' you prat?" Ginny giggled. "That little spat was between you and Harry. You certainly didn't have to bring me into it." She looked thoughtful momentarily, then highly amused. "Is that what they call me?"

Draco sauntered over to Ginny, taking her hand in his and kissing it lightly.

"No, sweet, they certainly don't. I'd surely hex anyone who dared." Much to Dean and Seamus's chagrin, Draco smiled at Ginny seductively.

"And does that include yourself?" Harry asked, smiling broadly at Draco.

"Ah, yes," Draco said, smiling back. "I guess my face will be resembling Goyle's arse, the fat lump." He shuddered. "Though I'd love to know how you'd know what Goyle's arse looks like anyhow, Harry."

He reached for Harry, pulling him into an embrace.

"Good to see you," he said into Harry's neck. "Damn good."

"You, too, Draco. Can you have a seat? Have a frog or two?"

Draco looked cautiously out of the compartment door.

"I don't know," he said. "That girlfriend of yours might have rules about consorting with the underlings."

Harry smiled at the mention of his girlfriend.

"Hermione's a little forgiving. I haven't seen you all summer!" Harry was nearly whining.

Draco laughed at Harry's pleading tone. He had been serious; he'd missed Harry more than mere words could express. He had wanted to spend some time with him at Granger's house over the summer, but Draco's and Hermione's relationship was strained at best. With her being Head Girl and his being Head Boy, he figured that he'd try his hardest to see to it that they put those five years of unpleasantness behind them. Aside, he wanted to befriend her for Harry's sake. He had tried hard during their Sixth Year, when his and Harry's friendship had taken off, but she was reluctant and untrusting. He knew she was disappointed with his appointment as Head Boy and he didn't want to be seen as the worthless Slytherin she thought him to be, but he simply couldn't resist spending some time with Harry. He ought to be, he knew, walking the train as Hermione was, but a few minutes surely couldn't hurt.

"All right," Draco agreed. "Just a few minutes, though. I've really ought to be responsible and all." He laughed at himself, something Harry always thought Draco to be incapable of.

Draco reached for a pumpkin pasty and stood by the open compartment door. He looked at Ginny, whom he had seen at Diagon Alley with her brothers Charlie and Bill over the summer, and remarked to himself what a beauty she had become. He actually liked most of the Weasleys. He'd spent time with Mr. and Mrs., Charlie, Bill, George, Fred, and Ginny during the Christmas holiday in his Sixth Year. He, Harry, and Hermione had had Christmas dinner with them at a, what Draco could only call "quaint," inn. Ron had, of course, been there as well, but since his falling out with Harry and Hermione, didn't say much to anyone. That was fine with Draco. He had taken a liking to most of Harry's fellow Gryffindors, but couldn't bridge the gap with the Weasel. The rest of the family embraced Draco almost immediately, taking their cue from Harry and the events that had proceeded the holiday. Mrs. Weasley had even knitted Draco a green sweater with a silver "D" on it and small, silver dragons on each of the sleeves.

It was no secret to anyone at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had become best mates. It was rare to see one without the other. Draco, though quite happy with his appointment as Head Boy, proof that Dumbledore did indeed trust him and have faith in his abilities, was concerned that his duties would sap the precious time he spent with one Harry James Potter.

"So, how was your summer, Draco?" Dean addressed the blond.

"Superb." Draco spit cake across the compartment as the words left his lips. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, shocking himself with each time he lost some of that cool, collected Malfoy grace. It was something that happened, he realized, quite often as of late, with his spending so much time with Harry as well as Dumbledore; both of whom he happily described as pleasing goofs.

He laughed joyously along with the group, brushing crumbs off of his robes.

"You lot have got to be the noisiest group on this whole bloody train."

Hermione strode past Draco, a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth. She stopped in front of Harry, raising a serious eyebrow, and putting her hands on her hips.

"Honestly, Harry Potter! A Seventh Year. The Champion of the people. You ought to know better. Let's see," she ticked off each offense on a finger, "I'm sure that you're contributing to the delinquency of those in younger years," she winked at Ginny, "you're filling everyone with loads and loads of sugar; you're keeping the Head Boy from performing his duties," she cast a small smile at Draco, "and you've not bothered once to check that your girlfriend is not being hexed by some rowdy George and Fred Weasley knock-offs." Hermione looked at her extended fingers. "My, my. How you're losing Gryffindor so many house points."

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Can I apologize?"

Draco noticed the twinkle in Harry's eyes that was only present when he and Hermione played their lover's games.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. These," she wiggled her fingers, "are very serious offences."

"Hmm. Maybe..." Harry blushed a little and leaned forward. Draco strained to hear what Harry was saying. "Maybe I can take it out in trade?"

Hermione smiled.

"What did you have in mind, dear?"

Harry raised his eyebrows suggestively and kissed Hermione. Dean, Seamus, and Ginny catcalled and whooped and whistled. Draco suddenly had a strong urge to look away. He found his feet very interesting.

"Ah," Hermione sighed, "I'm sure we can work out something. You lot keep it down."

She smiled, kissed Harry lightly, and turned to Draco.

"Shall we, Head Boy?"

"Your wish is my command, Head Girl. I'll see you lot at the castle."

Draco smiled and followed Hermione out of the compartment. He started to close the compartment door, but as an afterthought, he stopped and poked his head back into compartment.

"And yeah, you lot, you keep it down! Ruddy Gryffindors."

Draco winked at Harry, closed the compartment door, and headed down the train.

********************

Hermione had placed her hand on Harry's thigh during the Sorting Ceremony, occasionally squeezing, her fingers traveling upward toward his groin and then trailing back down to his knee. The castle was filled with a new sort of excitement as Harry sat at the table. It was an excitement that, he assumed, people on the victorious side of a war generally felt at the end; they were all filled with relief and a sense of being cleansed. He watched the First Years being sorted into their houses amid cheers and shouts in the Great Hall. He realized that with the defeat of Voldemort, along with the song the Sorting Hat had sung during his Fifth Year, separation amongst the Hogwarts students was almost nonexistent. With the exception of a few rogue students, the competitions over the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup had turned into friendly rivalries amongst all of the houses. Even Slytherin, who Harry thought unable of miscegenation, boasted scores of students who mingled freely with the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even their biggest rivals, the Gryffindors.

Harry realized that, despite all of the sweets that he, Dean, Seamus, and Ginny had eaten on the train, he was ravenous. He couldn't wait until the ceremony was over so that he could fill his belly. Moreover, he couldn't wait to head up to his common room and catch up with his friends, then sneak away to spend some time with Hermione in her private room, something that she and he had spoken about eagerly as soon as she had discovered that she'd been made Head Girl.

He looked across the table at Ginny, smiling brightly and clapping her hands wildly for every student after their sorting, and then at Dean and Seamus, plotting on how to make the First Years' lives hell. He allowed his eyes to travel to the far end of the table. At that end sat Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley. They were seated across from each other, both speaking quietly; they seemed completely dejected from the rest of the students. Harry realized just then that he hadn't seen either of them on the train. Harry, Hermione, and Hermione's parents and Mr., Mrs., and Ginny Weasley had met up at Platform 9 and ¾, but he hadn't seen Ron with them. Then again, Ron had been speaking to neither Harry nor Hermione for several onths, and spent most of his time with either Neville or Ginny.

Ron and Neville stopped speaking and, as if sharing one head, looked over and returned Harry's gaze. Harry managed a small smile, but Ron simply glared, his eyes narrowing slightly, and turned back to Neville. Harry let a heavy sigh escape from his lungs. Seeing where Harry was looking, Hermione squeezed his thigh again, and then used her index finger to draw small circles around his knee before taking his hand in hers underneath the table.

"It'll be okay you two, you know," Ginny said. "He'll come 'round."

She nodded as though trying to convince herself as well Harry and Hermione that her brother would place nearly a year's worth of jealousy and bitterness behind him and become best friends with Harry and Hermione again.

As the Sorting Hat sorted the last student and Dumbledore prepared to make his welcoming speech, the doors to the Great Hall opened. Every head in the Hall turned to see who had entered.

Draco Malfoy sauntered confidently through the doors. He sneered at Ron, who was sitting near the entrance, and then smiled up to the professors' table at Dumbledore. As he walked between the table where most of the Slytherins had gathered, and the other table where most of the Gryffindors had gathered, Harry noticed, though not for the first time, how handsome - no, beautiful - Draco was. It was no wonder, he thought, that many of the girls put their heads together to giggle and blush at his entrance.

Draco had allowed his silver-blond hair to grow. He wore it carelessly neat: locks of it nearly hung over his metallic gray eyes and the rest was brushed so that it sat just at his shoulders where it curled a little at the ends. Harry noted that Draco's hair always looked as if he had just emerged from the shower and wondered if he cast a spell on it to make it look that way. He was muscled, though not bulky, and the swell of his biceps pressed against the sleeves of his robes. He had heightened considerably, much like Ron, and stood just under six feet tall. His height added, if possible, even more grace to his already graceful stride. He seemed not to walk, Harry noted, but glide. Draco's eyes, the cool gray eyes that Harry had associated with hatred and loathing for much of his time at Hogwarts, were different: older, but at the same time, filled with warmth, light, and joy.

Draco stopped beside Harry, smiling down at him.

"Hey, Potty. This seat taken?"

During their Upper Sixth Year, Draco and Harry had been sitting behind each other at their respective tables in the Great Hall during lunch. They both had to keep leaning back to hear what the other was saying, then moving their heads when someone would walk between the tables. Draco, finally tiring of this, picked up his plate and, for what was "the first time in all of his years as Headmaster," Dumbledore later said, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. So began the practice of sitting at other tables during meals, with the exception of certain feasts and ceremonies where house solidarity was a tradition not to be broken. This particular night, just prior to Draco's entrance and just after the sorting ceremony had ended, quite a few students left their house tables and rushed to sit with their friends from other houses, buzzing with excitement and tales of the summer.

Harry smiled.

"You keep calling me 'Potty' and it will be."

"Old habits are hard to break," Draco laughed, sitting next to Harry.

"Welcome to another glorious year at Hogwarts!"

Albus Dumbledore's voice rang through the Hall, silencing the chatter and evoking a chorus of cheers and applause.

"Before we enjoy a wonderful feast - prepared with pleasure, love, and care," Dumbledore cast his twinkling eyes deliberately at Hermione, who "harrumphed," as she was still on about the mistreatment of House Elves, " - I do have a few start of term announcements, as do I always. First, to the first years: The Forbidden Forest is not to be ventured into. Inquire of some of your fellow, upper year students, as I'm sure their stories of times spent there will surely deter you from wandering off. Secondly, the corridor on the third floor is strictly forbidden to anyone who does not want to die a terrible death, the girl's bathroom on the second floor is a no-no, and Dementors will be patrolling the grounds."

There was a general murmur of unease. Harry's and Hermione's eyes met nervously.

Dumbledore laughed softly. "I have to admit that none of that is true. I'm sorry everyone, especially Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley. I could not resist."

The students of Hogwarts, long familiar with the famous trio's plights, laughed loudly. Draco clapped a befuddled Harry on the back, his eyes twinkling as magically as Dumbledore's. Harry winked at Hermione, who smiled and then shook her head in Dumbledore's direction, and then back down the table at Ron.

Ron's eyes cut through the distance between them. The hatred of the brown eyes met the soft pleading innocence of the green eyes with such malice that Harry felt a chill run from the base of his neck to the base of his spine and quickly looked away.

Draco looked from Harry to Ron. He saw the intense hate brewing behind Ron's brown eyes. When Harry broke the stare, Ron turned his hatred onto Draco: hatred that seemed to intensify as he stared into Draco's gray eyes. Draco's eyes turned from playful to treacherous as he challenged Ron's stare. Ron mouthed, "Bugger off," but Draco simply sneered, unblinking, unrelenting, until Ron finally looked away.

"Let the feast begin!" Dumbledore roared.

********************

The Prefects rushed to get the First Years to their common rooms while the upper year students mulled about for a bit longer. Harry had never eaten so much in his life. He was full, but not just from food. On Harry's right was Hermione, whose hand he held as they exited the Great Hall, and to his left was Draco, his arm thrown carelessly over Harry's shoulders. Dean and Seamus took up the rear. Ginny had gone to speak with and spend some time with Ron, no doubt pleading that he rekindle his friendship with Harry and Hermione, both of whom were more than willing and missed his presence.

"Harry?"

Harry, Hermione, and Draco turned quickly to face Dumbledore. The old wizard smiled paternally at the three standing before him.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I was wondering if I might have a word. Will you, after you've said your goodbyes to Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, meet me in my office for a short while?"

"Certainly, Professor," Harry said.

Harry smiled at Hermione, taking both of her hands in his.

"Well, love, I guess that works out. You have to see that everyone's where they belong, after all."

"True," Hermione smiled. "But, you won't forget, will you?" Her voice was throaty.

"How could I?" Harry said as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"Oh, dear," she muttered, noticing that Prefect Colin Creevey was having difficulty rounding up the First Year Gryffindors. "I'll see you soon, darling." She rushed off.

Harry was smiling as he turned to look at Draco, who was standing beside him, but the smile quickly vanished when he looked at Draco's face. Draco's mouth was set in a fierce frown, his gray eyes ablaze. Harry's eyes quickly followed Draco's, landing on none other than Vincent Crabbe and Greg Goyle. Standing surprisingly close to the two was Neville Longbottom. Harry thought, though, that Neville seemed more interested in talking to Tracey Davis, a very shy Slytherin girl Neville was rumored to have begun dating at the end of their Sixth Year. Tracey was now a constant companion of Crabbe and Goyle's.

Harry's hand ran between Draco's shoulder blades and ended at the curve between his shoulder and his neck. He rubbed gently, causing Draco to snap his head violently in Harry's direction.

"Whoa..." Harry softly intoned.

Draco's eyes softened. He loved looking into Harry's eyes. He realized that Harry carried with him a spark of childlike innocence that shone in those green eyes. No matter how much death Harry had seen, or been party to; no matter how much Harry lost or had taken from him, his eyes, Draco noticed, carried the innocence of babes. As he raised his hand, squeezing Harry's fingers, Draco realized he could vanish in those eyes; that he had vanished on a few occasions. He managed a wan smile.

"Hey," Goyle yelled across the Entrance Hall, "why'dunya two go ahead and kiss?"

Draco's and Harry's eyes flashed back over to where Crabbe and Goyle were standing. They were laughing riotously. He was surprised to see Neville and Tracey sniggering along as well.

"Are they still giving you hell?" Harry asked softly, vaguely aware that Draco was still holding his fingers.

Draco shook his head.

"Nothing that I can't handle. But..." His voice trailed off.

"But...?"

Draco looked back at Harry.

"Just...Just things in my head." He smiled warily.

"Things like what?" Harry asked, and then thought, Is he still holding my hand?

Draco nibbled his bottom lip. He was staring at Harry much the way he had stared at Ron earlier: his gray gaze unwavering. But this was different. It wasn't that just that this was softer. This was filled with some emotion Harry couldn't quite place, but he'd seen it before. He couldn't figure out where he'd seen it, but never from Draco.

Draco squeezed Harry's fingers before saying, "Dunno. Hey, you'd better not keep Dumbledore waiting."

********************

Fawkes settled comfortably on Harry's shoulder. Harry stroked his soft plumage lightly. Dumbledore had been, for the last five minutes, regarding Harry inquisitively. There was, in the old wizard's eyes, a mix of love, compassion, concern, nurturing, respect, and admiration. Harry fidgeted a bit, causing Fawkes to fly from his shoulder to the perch.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on his knuckles.

"I trust your summer went well?"

"Yes, sir. It was lovely."

"There was no trouble, then?"

The old wizard's eyes twinkled.

"No, Professor. Not at all."

"And, if I might ask, have you and Mr. Weasley patched things up?"

Harry hung his head a bit.

"No, sir. Not yet."

"Ah, I see," he said wisely as he unwrapped a toffee. He offered Harry one.

"No, thank you, sir. I've had enough sweets today to last me the rest of the year."

"Is that possible?" Dumbledore chuckled, rising from his chair and walking toward Fawkes. With his back toward Harry, he began, "Such is the predicament that love causes. Ron, I think, will come around. Harry, do you remember my calling you into my office at this very same time last year?"

Harry thought back. Sure enough, he had been in this very spot last year. But that time, Dumbledore had conjured up three cups of tea and some biscuits. That time, Harry had been disturbed and dismayed to see Draco Malfoy sitting in Dumbledore's office. That feeling of disturbance and dismay had quickly turned into shock and confusion as Harry realized that Draco was crying.

"So, 'why now,' you must be thinking, young Harry." Dumbledore turned, his robes catching the light from the many candles and throwing it about the room. "Well, last time, you and Draco needed each other. You proved to be a more invaluable pair than I could have ever imagined. This time, Harry, I think you'll find," Dumbledore looked over the top of his spectacles at Harry, "that love comes in many forms. As much as Draco needed you then, he's going to need you even more now. When the time is right, he will explain, for as of right now, I do not know if he is even aware of the need to explain anything. I wouldn't be surprised, Harry, if you find yourself."

Harry waited. He stared at the old wizard, who simply smiled and stared back, before saying, "If I find myself what, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes caught the light and twinkled mischievously.

"Be cautious, Harry. Comfort can be one of our best friends. But it can also prove to be one of our most lethal enemies."

********************

All Harry could think about as he descended the stairs from the Gryffindor tower and stepped into the corridor was snuggling up to Hermione. He walked quickly to her room, checking his Marauder's Map to see that he was alone on his trek. He smiled brightly as the map showed Hermione Granger.

She opened her door quickly, pulling him inside, and kissing him with more vigor than she had since their first kiss.

They didn't speak. They undressed almost completely with their lips bound together as if by magic, only breaking apart for Harry to remove his sweater. As he pulled the sweater over his head, Hermione ran her fingers along the ridges of his toned, sculpted stomach.

Harry gently pushed Hermione to the bed, lying his full weight upon her, his arousal pushing insistently against her inner thigh. She wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning something inaudible against his lips.

He pulled back, supporting his weight on his palms as he entered her, and gazed down into her eyes, the pupils wide and wild, filled with want and need and longing.

It was then that Harry realized that the emotion he was seeing in Hermione's eyes, that he had seen so often when she looked at him during times of their lovemaking, was the same emotion that he had seen earlier in the Entrance Hall.

Only then, it had been Draco Malfoy who was looking at him.