Inrevocabilis Cantanem

Chapter 2: Sources of Power

"Do you ever feel as if you're, I dunno, maybe betraying me?"

Ginny sat cross-legged on Ron's bed. Dean and Seamus's quiet snoring could be heard from across the room. Harry's bed was empty, Ginny noted as she entered the boy's dormitory, but that wasn't a surprise. What was surprising was Neville's empty bed.

Concerned because Ron didn't seem to have eaten much during the feast, she had Dobby bring up sandwiches and pumpkin juice. Ron had put off all of his Prefect duties, convincing Colin that he could handle it all by himself, and spent the evening with Ginny. At Ginny's insistence, Ron reluctantly ate half of one of the sandwiches. His hunger winning, he began to devour the food before him.

They had engaged in idle chat, with Dean and Seamus joining in occasionally before going to bed. When the conversation turned serious, as Ginny knew it would, they had drawn the curtains around the bed as so not to be disturbed.

As she sat nibbling the corner of one of the sandwiches, she thought. She would have to be careful about the way she responded. Ron was liable to fly off the handle at the smallest of things these days. Her answer would have to not only defend herself, Harry, and Hermione, but also let Ron know that she did love him and was saddened by his distancing himself from the group. Beside, her mother had wanted Ginny to address another issue that had been bothering both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny needed to have Ron calm when they spoke of it.

She tossed her mane of red hair and sighed. "I don't feel as if I'm betraying you, no," she began, "but I understand your frustration and how it must seem, what with my being around them so often and all. Ron, Harry and Hermione -"

"Harry and Hermione are heartless assholes!" he nearly yelled.

Ginny looked down at the sandwich in her hand. She could hear her brother breathing heavily, trying to control his emotions.

"Sorry, Gin," he said croakily, "but they are."

Ginny took Ron's hand in hers gently. He dropped his head, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"They don't see it that way, Ron."

He looked up at her, his eyes filling with tears.

"Do you see it that way, Gin?"

Ginny's eyes slowly welled with tears, too. She tightened her grip on his hand and softly shook her head.

"No."

"Get out, Ginny."

"Ron, listen. You're just upset. Harry -"

"Get the fuck out!" Ron roared, jerking his hand out of hers, picking up one of his pillows, and throwing it at Ginny. He caused the plate that the sandwiches had been sitting on to crash to the floor.

Ginny flinched, backing quickly away from her brother. With lightning quick agility and grace, he was behind her, his hand reaching through the curtain, and wrapping her hair around his fist. He pulled her by her hair sharply - triggering a yelp of pain from Ginny - through the curtain, and off the bed. He then threw her to his feet, causing her head to connect with the hard, stone floor.

Dean and Seamus both bound out of bed and ran the distance between their beds and Ron's. Dean knelt to help Ginny up, turning her to him to hold and console her, while Seamus asked Ron "what the bloody hell was going on?"

Ron sneered at the three in front of him before grabbing his wand and repairing the broken plate. Seamus and Dean stood staring at Ron, waiting for an answer, while Ginny wept onto Dean's bare shoulder.

Ron turned, looking at his sister.

"If I see you set foot in this, or any other dormitory not belonging to you, I will dock so many points from this House that it won't win a Cup for the next century. I guess, little sister, what that means is that you're going to have to find somewhere else to shag the scores of boys you've been shagging. I can't believe I'm related to you," he said, his upper lip curling as if he had just smelled something foul.

He turned, ignoring Ginny's wails, Dean's gapping mouth, and Seamus's threats, climbed onto his bed, and started to draw the curtains.

He stopped, looking over at Ginny.

"And you might want to give Potter and Granger the heads up that if I see his bed empty one more night, that bitch is going to lose her Head Girl position."

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

How many times during their knowing each other had Harry uttered the words, "Hermione is not my girlfriend?" Countless times, it seemed to him; and he had meant it. She and he were good friends and nothing more. But lying with her, their bodies sleeked with sweat from their lovemaking, he realized that he had always wanted to say, "Yes. Yes, this is my girlfriend. She's the brightest, most amazing witch of her time."

Harry had decided to take up Arithmancy during his Sixth Year. Hermione had been pleased that he was putting aside the Divination to study one of her favorite subjects. It was during the summer before their Sixth Year that she and Ron had started dating. Their relationship carried into the school term.

Harry, having given up on Cho during the summer, and not having much contact with the wizarding world, despite the efforts of Tonks, Moody, and Lupin, returned from the Dursleys to find Ron and Hermione holding hands on the train. He had, at the time, smiled broadly as they passed him, both of them making their rounds and stopping in to say hello to him, but as he sat on the train with Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, he felt uneasy. Surely he should be happy that Ron and Hermione put their squabbles aside and finally admitted to an attraction to each other. Surely he shouldn't feel bitter or sad about it not being him that Hermione chose. Why would she have? There had been no indication that she thought of him as any more than a good friend. Ron, on the other hand...

Hermione had sat in the common room with Harry a couple of weeks after Voldemort's defeat and a week prior to the Christmas holiday. The school was still in shock and its students kept mostly to themselves, mourning the loss of family and friends. It wasn't unusual, then, that the common room was empty aside from Harry and Hermione. She was helping him to catch up on their Arithmancy work, as he had been in the hospital wing, but had chosen not to opt out of his exams.

"Aren't you two done yet?"

Harry and Hermione both looked up distractedly at Ron.

"No, Ron, we are not," Hermione said, then looked back down at the book.

"Well, how long then?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"As long as it takes."

Ron muttered something. He fidgeted a bit, bouncing from one foot to the other, then began tossing about the quaffle that he had taken from their last match. The ball hit the tips of his fingers and then fell onto the table where Harry and Hermione had all of their books. Ink spilled across the figures that Harry and Hermione had been diligently working on for the three hours prior.

"Shit!" Harry yelped, jumping up.

"Ronald! Gods!" Hermione slammed her hand on the table. "It's going to take even longer now!"

"Sorry," Ron said, hanging his head.

Harry and Hermione dashed to salvage what they could of their work.

"Just - just use a spell," Ron suggested, pulling his wand out of his back pocket.

"NO!" Harry and Hermione screamed in unison.

"You'll clean up the ink, true," Hermione explained, "but you'll erase the figures."

She sighed and, after picking up the last bit of parchment, took Ron's wand, muttered, "Scorgify," and watched as the ink disappeared from the table.

She turned toward Ron saying, as she handed him back his wand, "Just let us finish, all right? We'll see you in the morning," and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Ron mumbled a soft goodnight and headed up to the dormitory.

Harry threw himself down in his chair. He never felt more like crying. He was getting really good at Arithmancy; moreover, he was enjoying it. Just like that and all of his hard work had been ruined.

"It's not so bad," Hermione encouraged. "Look. We've still got most of it. Just looks like the last few figures we were working on need to be fixed is all."

Harry nodded somberly. Sighing heavily, he picked up his quill and began to work, neither saying anything to the other for awhile.

He wasn't sure what scared him more: the sudden feel of something stroking the scar on his right arm, or the transfixed look in Hermione's eyes as she touched it. Whichever it was, he jerked his arm back quickly as if he'd been burned.

"Sorry."

"It - it's okay."

Hermione focused her attention back on the book.

A few stoic minutes passed before Hermione quietly asked, "Does it still hurt?"

Harry shook his head.

"I thought," she cleared her throat, "I thought I - we - might lose you this time."

"No such luck," Harry said, smiling softly. His smile died. Hermione was crying. She continued speaking as if Harry hadn't said anything.

"And I didn't want to lose you before I...Before I could tell you things."

Harry put down his quill.

"What things, Hermione?"

She looked at her hands, her fingers tangling and untangling themselves. Harry reached over to still them, holding her hands in his.

"What things?"

Hermione pulled her hands from Harry's to bury them in his black hair, and passionately kissed him.

"No."

Harry pushed Hermione away, repeating the word "no" again and again.

She looked at him, her brown eyes soft. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

"I knew you'd never have me," she managed to choke out.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "What? Hermione, I'd be lucky, beyond lucky, to have you."

She again spoke as if Harry hadn't said anything.

"That's why I never tried because I just knew."

"Hermione, that's rubbish."

Harry turned his chair so that he was facing Hermione. He grabbed the arms of her chair and turned it so that she was facing him as well. Their knees were touching and Harry put his forehead against Hermione's.

"Sweet, that's rubbish. I honestly never knew you...well...that you'd want me to have you. You've always seemed interested in Ron. You're with Ron now, right?"

Hermione looked quizzically at Harry.

"No, Harry, I'm not. I'm with Harry Potter's best friend."

Harry bit his lip. His mind was whirling. Did Hermione really fancy him? Was she just feeling sorry for him? What about Ron? His teeth released his lip with an audible smack and, as he was preparing himself to ask Hermione these questions, she kissed him again.

He immediately gave into the kiss, allowing her lips to explore his, her tongue to delve deeply into his mouth. The kiss seemed to go on endlessly, and Harry was trying to figure out just when and how to stop it.

She stood quickly and, before Harry knew it, straddled Harry's lap. She was vigorously grinding her hips against him and he began reciprocating, holding her hips vice like in his palms and pushing her against his groin.

He wasn't going to last much longer, of that he was sure. If she would just...

But she stopped suddenly and Harry groaned from the loss of pressure. He was just about to ask her what was wrong when she suddenly dropped to her knees and, with what seemed like one swift motion, unbuckled his trousers and took him into her mouth.

He tried to say her name. He tried to say something to affirm that this was right; that what was going on between them was right, but he couldn't speak. He could hardly move. All he could do was empty himself into his best friend's girlfriend's mouth with a guilty shudder of delight.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, he looked down toward his feet where Hermione was crouching, the same guilty shudder of delight running through her body.

"Merlin's beard," Harry muttered.

In the shadows on the stairway to the boys' dormitories, Ron sat. Though he couldn't hear what was being said, he watched the entire scene with only one thought in his head: Harry Potter never allowed him anything.

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

Harry and Hermione lie facing each other on her bed. Harry was twirling tendrils of her long brown hair between his fingers. He stared at her nose, smiling to himself as he realized that he knew exactly how many freckles dotted the bridge.

"Fifty-three," he said.

"Fifty-three what, darling?" she responded sleepily.

"Freckles on your nose."

"Umm. Are you going to look that up in your Arithmancy book, then?"

She smiled, nuzzling closely to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Maybe," he said into the top of her head before kissing it.

He placed his chin on the top of her head and stared off into the distance. He was wondering what Draco was doing. He smiled softly as he changed his line of thought. Rather, he was wondering who Draco was doing.

The rumor that began circulating through the Slytherin Dungeons and finally made its way through the whole of Hogwarts was that Blaise Zabini was gay, and that one of his conquests had been Draco Malfoy. Harry knew Draco well enough to know, however, that even if he had shagged Blaise, surely Blaise was the conquest and Draco had been the conqueror. Still, Draco simply smirked upon hearing the tales, neither confirming nor denying. And when Blaise finally confirmed the rumor that he was indeed gay, Draco's smirk only increased.

It must have been irksome for Crabbe and Goyle, perpetuators of the rumor, not only that Blaise proudly admitted to his sexuality, but also that Draco wasn't throwing hexes at anyone who inquired; moreover, Draco's popularity with the Hogwarts girls only increased with the rumor.

Harry was certain, gay or not, that he had misinterpreted the emotion in Draco's eyes. Even if Draco did like boys, he and Harry were just friends. Then again, he and Hermione had started off as just friends and now she was stroking him back into a state of arousal.

"You're far away tonight," she muttered against his chest.

He looked down at her and nuzzled her neck.

"I'm sure I could get quite a bit closer."

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

"Oh, bugger all!" Draco groaned as he looked in his bag. "I forgot my ruddy book."

He, Hermione, and Harry were standing outside of the Transfiguration classroom. Many of the First Year students were scrambling to and fro, trying to find the classroom for their second set of classes. As they were all familiar with the castle by this time, the upper year students took the time between bells to socialize and group together outside of their respective classrooms.

Harry, Draco, and Hermione were doing just that. Across the hall from them stood Ron and Neville, who was standing next to Tracey, his hand tentatively holding hers. Crabbe and Goyle, of course, were standing beside Tracey.

"You can share with me, Draco," Harry offered.

"Hmm," Draco regarded Harry for a moment, then looked at Hermione. "As fun as that may be," he raised his eyebrows, "I'll just use my own."

Hermione pinched Harry's side as Draco turned away from them.

"He didn't mean it that way," Harry whispered to Hermione, though he, himself, wasn't sure exactly what Draco had been playing at.

"Accio Advanced Transfiguration," Draco said, holding his wand in his right hand and extending his left hand.

Even Hermione had to laugh along with Harry and Draco as the textbook sped through the halls to Draco's waiting fingertips. Many students ducked and jumped out of the way, but Colin Creevey was watching Ginny walk down the hall. Ginny happened to be walking toward Draco, Harry, and Hermione, just as Draco's textbook was flying down the hallway in the opposite direction. It hit Colin squarely in the back of the head and, not to be deterred from its route, continued until it reached Draco's hand.

"Draco!" Colin yelled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sorry, Colin," Draco laughed. "I have no control over these things."

"Ginny, what's wrong?"

Harry heard his girlfriend addressing the only Weasley girl and quickly turned. Draco followed suit.

Indeed, Ginny looked as though she had done nothing but cry for several hours straight. Dean and Seamus, who always flanked her sides, looked less smitten and more protective as they both held one of her hands. Suddenly it dawned on Harry that the three of them had not occupied their usual spaces at breakfast.

Ginny shook her head, preparing to say something, but Draco glided forward, closing the distance between himself and Ginny. He soothingly ran his hand down her cheek, taking her chin in his hand and raising her head. With his head cocked slightly, he pierced her wet brown eyes with his silvery-gray ones.

The entire hallway seemed to grow still, watching with interest this scene: lithe, graceful Draco Malfoy holding Ginny Weasley's chin, delicately perched on the ridge of his index finger, and gazing deeply into her eyes. There was magic, Harry noted, emanating from Draco. Ginny seemed unable to look away from Draco's eyes. She stood, transfixed, staring at him, her eyes unblinking.

His jaw tightened. His eyes iced. He slowly turned his head, glaring at Ron.

He chucked Ginny gently under the chin and strode over to where Ron was standing. Crabbe and Goyle stood protectively in front of Ron, causing Draco to drop his cool demeanor briefly as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Harry," Hermione whined, grabbing the sleeve of Harry's robes, impeding his movement momentarily.

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry assured his girlfriend with a smile. "I just want to check that things are all right."

"Well, well," Ron scoffed as Harry stepped beside Draco, "if it isn't The Boy Who Lived and Monsieur Love. What seems to be the problem, Ferret? Have too many House points?"

Draco again cocked his head, smirking.

"I find it amusing, Weasley, that anyone can be so uninventive."

Ron scrunched up his reddening face.

"Ah, and the winner of the Battle of the Wits: Draco Malfoy. The crowd goes wild. You know, it isn't even fun anymore. It's just too easy," Draco drawled.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Crabbe grunted.

Draco continued smirking.

"And just so you know, Weasley, association with imbeciles does actually cause you to lose brain cells. It took me months to figure out how to walk again after a summer or two with these two lumps."

Harry chuckled as Draco turned to leave. Draco stopped, facing Ron again.

"This is far from over. You are aware of that, aren't you, Weasley? Far, far from over." He lowered his voice, its tone perilously dangerous. "If you ever presume to touch your sister like that again - or anyone else for that matter - I will see to it that your life is made a living hell."

He turned, walking to rejoin the group from which he came. Crabbe acted quickly, wrapping his arms about Draco while Goyle snatched Draco's wand from his waistband.

"Give it back, Goyle," Harry barked, holding up his wand.

"'Give it back, Goyle,'" Goyle mimicked, twirling Draco's wand around his fingers.

Harry, not sure he could be much more surprised this year, noticed that Ron and Neville were laughing. He longed for the days of "us against them," but knew that in wishing for that he would lose Draco as a friend.

Hermione, walking beside Harry and lowering his wand, put on her best Head Girl voice and cool, calm logic as she addressed Crabbe.

"You are looking at serious repercussions for your actions, Crabbe. I would suggest that you let Draco, the Head Boy, go and return him his wand."

"Ah, 'Mione," Crabbe grunted, "we're just havin' some fun. I'm just givin' Draco here a lil lovin'. I heard he likes it from the back."

With each of these words, Crabbe grunted and thrust against Draco, lifting him from the ground slightly, as if the two of them were engaged in some sexual act. Draco was grinning, but looking entirely bored with the situation, his right eyebrow raised so high that it disappeared under his silky blond hair.

More laughter from the Slytherin camp, Ron, and Neville.

Harry raised his wand.

"Incarcerous," he incanted.

Ropes flew about Crabbe's body, causing him to let go of Draco. The ropes quickly bound themselves around him, cutting into his body, making him bulge out between them.

Harry smirked. Hermione noted that that particular smirk looked a lot like a patented Draco Malfoy smirk.

Ron quickly stepped forward, pointing his wand at Harry.

He smiled menacingly at Harry.

Harry had no choice but to turn his wand from Crabbe, still bound with rope, to his former best friend.

"Don't do this, Ron," Harry said. He looked at Ron pleadingly. He knew that this was one fight that Ron would not win.

"Ron," Hermione began softly, "please don't."

Ron simply scoffed, tensed his arm in preparation for a spell, and set his mouth to incant it.

Before he could get the words out, Harry yelled, "Stupefy!"

A bolt of red shot of his wand, hitting Ron directly in the chest and throwing him backward, unconscious.

Hermione gasped, looking incredulously at Harry.

"Nice," Draco whispered, eliciting a small smile from Harry.

Harry pointed his wand toward Crabbe, winking at Draco, and said, "Engorgio."

Draco laughed loudly as Crabbe's body began swelling against the ropes.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted in disbelief.

She rushed forward, her wand raised. As she was performing the counter spells on Ron and Crabbe, Goyle yelled, "Hey, Draco. I still gotcher wand. Dunno. Maybe I'll break it."

Draco turned his cool eyes on Goyle. He smiled wickedly. Goyle's trousers and underpants abruptly sailed to his feet. The entire hallway burst into laughter.

Draco, still smiling, checked to see that no one was looking as he held out his hand. His wand floated into his palm.

Harry was staring at Draco in shocked disbelief, not hearing Hermione's tirade over his shoulder.

"How did -"

"Gods, Harry. To think you almost made my face look like that," Draco laughed pointing at Goyle's backside.

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

"You amaze me," Harry whispered to Draco.

Harry's face was close to his parchment as he copied from the blackboard. Normally he would have been concerned by Professor McGonagall's diatribe and disappointment after she rushed from the classroom to see what was happening in the hallway, as well as the fact that Hermione was so disgusted with him that she was near tears. Professor McGonagall had quickly magicked a few notes on the board, and then with a look that simply said that she was beside herself, walked with purpose out of the classroom, leaving strict instructions that her students were not to speak.

Draco smiled, casting a sidelong glance in Harry's direction.

"You really have no idea, Harry."

"Seriously, how did you do that?"

"Do what?" Draco inquired innocently.

"Don't give me that rubbish. You know exactly what I'm talking about. How did you do it?"

Draco regarded Harry. He allowed his eyes to travel from the warm, moss green eyes to the untidy hair. Harry had remained small, standing a good four inches shorter than Draco. Though small, his years of Quidditch had sculpted a tight, leanly muscled physique. What Draco liked most was Harry's mouth: full and pouty; the bottom lip was always a little tattered from Harry's constant chewing on it. He stared at Harry's mouth a while, his tongue snaking out between his lips to wet them.

"I'll tell you," Draco began, "but we're going to take it out in trade."

Harry placed his quill down.

"And what, pray tell, are we trading?"

"That, my friend, will be disclosed at a later date. As will all of my wonderful wizarding secrets."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"You're a dick, Malfoy. You know that?"

"Again, Harry; you really have no idea." Draco smiled. "But it will help to know that I like it from the back."

He and Harry laughed.

Hermione turned around quickly, giving Harry and Draco one of the nastiest looks she could muster, and then looking to their nearly empty parchment. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and returned to writing.

"You're in trouble," Draco sang, chuckling lightly.

"As are you all. Ten points from each of your Houses and the understanding that I am deeply disappointed by you both. Especially you, Mr. Malfoy, as you hold such a distinguished position."

Minerva McGonagall stood beside Harry and Draco's desk, her arms folded in front of her.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry and Draco both muttered, hiding smiles as she walked toward the front of the room.

She cleared her throat.

"Misters Weasley, Crabbe, Goyle, Potter, and Malfoy, and Miss Granger, the Headmaster would like to see all of you in his office. And I hope you did not have extensive plans this evening. You will be doing a lot of Transfiguration work."

Hermione quickly loaded her bag, her bottom lip trembling. Harry tried to stop her as she marched past him, but she deftly moved away from him.

"Big, big trouble," Draco sang again.

"Shove off, Draco," Harry smiled.

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

"I can't believe you," Hermione simpered.

Harry and Hermione stood against the wall next to the revolving staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. Across from them stood Crabbe, Goyle, and Ron. Ron was rubbing his head pathetically, while Goyle checked for lumps. They were loudly saying that Ron would need to see Madam Pomfrey and that Harry and Draco were a threat to the well-being of not just them, but of all Hogwarts students. Draco was currently in Dumbledore's office, as Dumbledore had called him up first. Argus Filch and Mrs. Norris stood guard over the troublesome students.

Harry shook his head at the trio and then turned to Hermione.

"Gods, Hermione. You act as if I had a choice."

"You did!" she spit. "You could have let McGonagall handle it, Harry. But no, you had to show off for you little friend."

Harry frowned.

"Number one, I was not showing off, Hermione. Number two, yes, let me allow them to torture Draco mercilessly and wait for McGonagall to get off her arse and come into the hallway. It took her long enough as it was."

"Harry," Hermione began, lowering her voice, "you could have killed them both."

Harry scoffed.

"Honestly, Hermione. They were simple spells."

"Generally, yes. But you...you had such a look on your face, Harry. I've never seen someone thrown so hard from a Stunning Spell. Aside, the ropes were enough. Did you have to make him swell, too? You could have killed them." As an afterthought she added, "And it would seem that Malfoy could take care of himself just fine."

Harry frowned again. His hands in his pockets, he pawed the ground with his foot, looking down.

"I guess...I guess I'm just tired of it all, Hermione. Ron and Neville hanging around with Crabbe and Goyle? That's disgusting."

"Hmm. Almost like you hanging around with Draco Malfoy? You told me, Harry, that people change. You insisted upon that when you and Draco became friends. You insisted that I put all of the filthy names and the trickery and the deception behind me because people change."

Harry furrowed his brow.

"Yeah, but I meant that they changed for the better," he nudged Hermione with his elbow, trying to lighten her mood.

She looked at Harry, trying hard not to give into those pleading green eyes.

"I really loathe you sometimes, Harry Potter."

"And I really love you all the time, Hermione Granger."

Hermione looked quickly at Harry. He had never said that before. He reached over for her hand, holding it tightly and protectively in his own. He turned so that his shoulder was pressed against the wall and he was facing her profile.

"I really do. I honestly don't know what came over me, love. I'm used to fighting. I've always had to fight. All of the sudden, Ron was no different than any other enemy I've ever faced."

"But he is, Harry," she said softly. "He is your best friend."

Harry shook his head sadly.

"That's not what he wants anymore. I can't force his hand. But I'm not going to hide my love for you or my friendship with Draco, either. I know you think that Draco's a huge troublemaker, and I don't feel like hashing out that debate with you right now, but he saw something in Ginny's eyes. That was why all of this started. He was protecting her from something."

"From Ron, though, Harry? Ginny doesn't need protecting from her own brother."

She ran a finger over his lips as if to silence what he might say next. They were both thinking the same thing: Ron was volatile. The incident in the hallway was even more proof of that.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and then inched closer to Hermione.

"You still mad with me?"

He batted his eyes and poked out his bottom lip.

"You're exhausting," Hermione smiled, finally giving in.

As he brought his lips to hers, Filch yelled for the two of them to break it up.

Harry and Hermione giggled, their noses still touching.

"What I think you should do," Goyle was saying to Ron, though loudly enough for Harry and Hermione to hear him, "is see that we get a better Head Girl. Don't think bein' the girlfriend of the Famous Harry Potter's good enough. 'Specially when he had to steal her from his best mate."

Harry and Hermione turned their heads to look at the three of them.

Ron was smiling maliciously.

"I agree, Gregory. I think a new Head Boy might be in order as well."

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

Draco sat in Dumbledore's office, his hands in his lap. He had spent last summer and a significant part of the summer before last in this very room, as Dumbledore had allowed him to stay at Hogwarts during the breaks.

It was Dumbledore, Draco acknowledged, who was instrumental in his and Harry's friendship. Moreover, Dumbledore had freed the child in Draco that years of patriarchal rule had murdered. As much as he had despised Dumbledore, Draco now saw in the old wizard a paternal figure of sorts. When Draco had nothing left during the summer after his Fifth Year, no family, no friends, no alliances, Dumbledore took him in, cared for him, and saw to it that Draco was at ease and, more importantly, safe. Draco admired more than anything Dumbledore's trusting and willingness to forgive and overlook. As he had with his father, Draco wanted least of all to disappoint Dumbledore.

Sitting here, under the scrutinizing gaze of the Headmaster, Draco was concerned about his future. He hung his head, not meeting the old wizard's eyes, and twisted his robes around his fingers. He realized briefly that this side of him, worried, saddened, and anything but cool and detached, was a side he had only shown to Dumbledore. And, he realized, Harry.

"Professor, sir -" Draco began.

Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing the young man before him. "You do not quite have anything to explain away yet, Draco, as Professor McGonagall simply told me that there was a row in the hallway. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Draco began, explaining everything to the Headmaster. He realized that he was speaking quickly, his chest tight. He finished, expelling a long breath.

Dumbledore smiled and conjured up a glass of water for Draco.

"Thank you, sir," Draco said softly.

Dumbledore nodded. He watched Draco drink before asking, "How long, Draco, have you been a Legilimen?"

Draco looked up quickly.

"A what, Professor?"

"Ah, Draco, do not think me old and foolish enough to believe you neither know the name of the practice nor the name of one who practices it."

Draco smiled weakly.

"About three years now, sir."

"Ah. Draco, I know that you are well versed in magic that is not normally taught at Hogwarts. I do not hold that against you. In fact, I think it may be a valuable asset."

Dumbledore stood, smiling down at Draco.

"Now," he continued, "tell me what you saw in Ginny Weasley's memories that was bad enough for hexes to be thrown."

Draco swallowed.

"Well, sir, I saw that Weasley - Ron - had hurt her last night. It...it infuriated me, sir. I know that I'm Head Boy and that he's a Prefect and I know that I could have handled it better, but I was...And then Harry, sir. Weasley was going to hex him and Harry...Harry stunned him. He...it was a bloody amazing stunner. Ahem. Sir."

Draco blushed, lowering his eyes.

"Do you know," Dumbledore was saying slowly, "why I appointed you Head Boy?"

"No, sir."

"Ah. Well, Draco, I will not remove you from this post. Not now, anyway."

"Thank you, sir. I apologize, sir."

Dumbledore nodded softly.

"But I cannot allow behavior such as this to go unpunished. For a fortnight, Draco, I will be extending your patrolling duties. You will relieve a Prefect of his or her duties and add extra time to your own. I do not expect your classwork to suffer."

"I understand, sir," Draco said, his head bowed. "And sir? About the Legilimency-" Draco began, but Dumbledore quickly held up his hand.

"It is not taught at Hogwarts. Not in classes, anyway."

Draco looked up at Dumbledore's smiling face. Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at Draco, deep into Draco's eyes, before saying, "Go on."

"Well...I...is it...I mean -"

"No, Draco," Dumbledore smiled softly. "It is not illegal. You will find, Draco, that what makes magic dark is its intent. The simplest spell cast with the wrong intent can surely qualify as dark. You may find that what you've been taught your entire life and thought to be the darkest of all magic, just may find a way to be light and positive."

Draco nodded soberly.

"Moreover, young Draco, you may find that others will find use in this magic as well." His eyes sparkled mysteriously. "You are free to go."

"Again, sir, I do apologize," Draco said as he stood.

"Well, let us just not make a habit of it."

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

"Bloody Weasel ruined my nights for the next two weeks," Draco complained as he, Harry, and Hermione walked into the Great Hall for lunch.

"It could be worse," Hermione said unsympathetically. "I think Professor Dumbledore was rather lenient with the two of you idiots. Look, there's Ginny."

Draco was about to retort Hermione's comment, but Harry quickly slapped his hand over Draco's mouth, shaking his head back and forth. Draco licked Harry's hand. He raised his eyebrows suggestively as Harry, laughing, wiped his hand off on Draco's chest.

The three of them sat across from Ginny, Dean, and Seamus. Ginny looked no better, though Dean and Seamus were trying their hardest, it seemed, to cheer her up. Hermione leaned forward.

"What happened, Ginny?"

Ginny looked purposefully at Draco, saying, "Ask him."

Dean, Seamus, Harry, and Hermione looked at Draco. He simply stared ahead at Ginny.

"It's your story, love," he said quietly.

"Yeah, but you know. It's like I felt you take my thoughts out of my head through my eyes or something. How did you do that, Draco? How did you know?"

Draco simply closed his eyes, an exaggerated blink. When he opened them, a sad smile spread across his lips.

"It's your story," he repeated again.

Ginny sighed, leaning forward to address Harry and Hermione. She told them of what had happened between she and Ron the night before. When she finished, tears rolling down her cheeks, Harry reached across the table to take her hand, but Hermione turned to Draco.

"Did you see that, Draco? Were you there?"

Draco shook his head, turning his attention to his potatoes.

"Then why - " Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.

"Ginny, I'm just...I'm awfully sorry that you have go through this because of us."

Ginny shook her head.

"It's not just you and Hermione, Harry. Though that has a lot to do with it, it's not just that." She sighed heavily, then looked at Draco. "What else do you know? Did you see anything else?"

Draco shook his head again, slightly uncomfortable with Hermione's dogged gaze.

"I wasn't looking for anything else, I guess," he said with more confidence than he felt.

"What else is there, Gin?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Just this...this...something...that Mum and Dad found in Ron's room over the summer. Right before we came back here. They didn't really say to me what it was, but it sounded bad. I overheard them saying what it was called, but I forget now. I guess they've tried to speak with him about it, but he claimed it wasn't his. That it belonged to a friend. That he didn't even know what it was. When they searched his room for it, he got quite upset and claimed that he gave it back to his friend. So, I assume he doesn't have it anymore. Dad was on about the trouble he would be in with the Ministry if they knew his son had this particular thing. They wanted me to see if I could speak with him. I," she sighed heavily, "I guess not now."

Draco seemed suddenly interested.

"Did you see this thing? Was it an artifact or something?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I personally didn't see it. Bill and Charlie are upset, as are Mum and Dad. With Fred and George still abroad, they haven't heard about it yet. Percy," Ginny scoffed, "couldn't care less and would probably turn Ron in, so they haven't mentioned it to him. You know how the Ministry is now, what with Voldemort gone and their on-going efforts to rid the wizarding world of any dark magic." She looked down at her plate, then quickly back up. "Gods, what if it's something really bad and I don't recall the name of it? What if Ron...what if Ron's into something horrid?" She looked at Draco. "Could you see it? I mean, even if I forgot what it's called? Could you look into my eyes again and see it?"

Draco was suddenly aware of five sets of eyes boring into him. He cleared his throat, looking anxiously at Harry, his tongue wetting his lips.

Harry's hand reached under the table to reassuringly pat Draco's thigh. Immediately, Draco put his hand on top of Harry's, holding the fingers tightly, causing Harry's hand to press more insistently against Draco's thigh. He looked searchingly into Harry's eyes, but Harry quickly dropped his head.

He let go of Harry's hand and looked across the table at Ginny.

"Okay," he said.

He and Ginny sat staring at each other for what seemed an eternity.

"All right," Seamus began, "this is ridiculous."

"Serpensempra: The Amulet of Walpurgis. The sorcerer's final incantation," Draco said.

"The sorcerer's final incantation?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes," Draco responded. "The artifact. It's an amulet. Vladimir Murdock, the sorcerer who made the amulets, or so the story goes, was killed just as the last one was being made. He was killed by the wizard who requested he make them. That wizard was Voldemort. Apparently, Murdock's death, his final incantation, made the amulets that much more powerful."

Hermione looked at the table thoughtfully, running through her extensive knowledge of wizarding facts.

"Don't hurt yourself, Granger," Draco began, "you're not going to find it in there." He pointed at her head. "It's considered a dark," he cleared his throat, "a very dark artifact of sorts. For the person to whom it belongs, it protects against death."

"Immortality?" Hermione asked testily. "And why don't we know about this?"

Draco snorted. "Why would you? And no, not so much immortality. An invincibility of sorts. You can die, but it takes quite a powerful spell cast by a powerful witch or wizard to kill you. It also allows the owner to bend others to their will. It's like having the Imperious Curse in a handy, travel-sized bauble. The amulets were crafted for Voldemort and his followers, but only one, or so I believe, is still in existence."

"And how do you know all of this?" Hermione asked skeptically.

Draco looked Hermione squarely in her eyes.

"Because it was mine."