Teamwork

18 -- Meeting Halfway

On Wednesday morning, Harry woke up feeling tired and discouraged, and might have skipped breakfast if Ron hadn't thrown a pillow at him and told him to get up. Hermione caught up with them just outside the portrait hole.

"Good morning."

Harry shot her a look. "Hi," he said tersely.

"What?"

"Nice to have you speaking to me again."

"Now that you're not avoiding us!"

"I wasn't avoiding you!"

"You're gone all the time!"

"I am not!" Harry stopped, both to catch his breath and to look at her. "Look," he said. "I have a schedule, precisely because Draco wants to be sure he's around Slytherin enough. We spend time together on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, so I'm not going to be available then."

"Oh." Hermione frowned, but there was more consideration to it now. "That doesn't leave a lot of time for schoolwork."

Harry grimaced. "Believe me, some of that involves schoolwork. He is Head Boy, you know. And an hour of Tuesday is going to be with Professor McGonagall. We're starting a project next week."

"With Professor McGonagall?"

"He thought she'd be more likely to do it for me, and that we'd both learn more together." As they crossed the landing, Harry nudged her. "We usually do, you know. My marks were better than usual, last year, and you saw how well we research together."

Her cheeks dimpled as she finally smiled. "I remember." Her gaze dropped as they started down the next flight. "But what about Sunday?"

"Oh." Harry shrugged. "I was with a friend," he said.

"A friend," Ron repeated, joining the conversation. "Last year, that meant Malfoy."

"Well, this is someone else," Harry said. "And no, I'm not interested."

"You would have said that about him too, though," Hermione pointed out. "As late as April."

"Really," Harry said. "I'm certain, this time. I mean, I know a lot more about myself, now."

"But you were doing something that lasted for hours."

Harry shrugged. "Not your business," he said.

"Harry," Hermione said warningly.

"Really. I wasn't drinking, I wasn't off the grounds, I wasn't doing Dark Arts.... It is none of your business."

She sighed. "Harry, I really think--"

"Mr. Potter!"

They had reached the third floor. The hail, in Professor McGonagall's clear, carrying voice, caught Harry like a grappling hook. He froze, turning more slowly than his friends. What could she possibly know about?

She hurried forward, continuing in a conversational tone once she was near enough. "Harry, I'm afraid I must interrupt your morning. You are needed in Professor Dumbledore's office."

She turned, and Harry jumped to match up with her long, quick stride. He was aware of Ron and Hermione lagging a little behind. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I sincerely do not know. The headmaster has two Aurors visiting, and he said to inform you that you were to cooperate with them as he would expect a student of his to do."

That had the precision of a coded message, and Harry's thoughts moved from the paranoid speculation that Lestrange's case was being reopened, and to the mysterious alliances that he had glimpsed that summer.

"Are they Aurors that I met during the trial?" he tried, probing for information. He decided he had hit on the right tack when McGonagall shot him a quick smile.

"One is, and one is not," she said, with a tight nod. "I am certain that you can place full confidence in Auror Tonks."

Harry nodded. In context, that message was clear; he could not trust the other Auror. He looked back at Ron and Hermione -- several paces behind now -- and waved them off. As they nodded and turned away, he realized two things: first, that they had obeyed his signal without question, and second, that he would not have noticed that a year ago.

Could I really take over Gryffindor?

"Ah, there you are, Harry," Professor Dumbledore greeted him brightly, as Harry entered the headmaster's office. His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, as if he were offering a delightful treat, or sharing a treasured joke. "This fine witch and wizard from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have come to talk to you about--"

An unfamiliar man in Auror's robes stepped forward, raising his hand in a demand for silence. "If you don't mind, sir, we will tell him what we wish to know."

"Yes, yes, of course," Dumbledore said brightly. "I'm afraid it slipped my mind in making introductions. I am accustomed to setting my students at ease, of course."

"Of course," the wizard said stiffly.

"May I make introductions?" At the Auror's nod, Dumbledore turned to nod himself, but at Harry. "Harry, this is Auror Richard Mason and Auror Nymphadora Tonks. Please cooperate appropriately with their investigation. Auror Mason, Auror Tonks, this is Harry Potter, a tolerable student, but an impressive young man, and a quintessential Gryffindor."

Harry looked at Auror Tonks. "Reckless, unmanageable, and blunt," he translated.

She grinned. "Well, I approve of blunt -- it makes our job easy."

Auror Mason rolled his eyes. "We'll take over from here, sir," he said, and Dumbledore, with a nod to him and a deeper one to Tonks, departed. The headmaster's office felt plainer and quieter without him there, although nothing else had changed.

"Have a seat, Harry," Tonks said, gesturing at one of the visitors' chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. She summoned a third one -- a stubby, squashy armchair -- from over by the wall and perched on the arm of it. Auror Mason sat forward and upright on a less deep chair.

"Now, there's no cause for alarm," Tonks said sincerely, "no additional sightings or anything -- but we want to ask you some questions about your encounter with Sirius Black, back in 1994."

"Why?" Harry retorted. "No one wanted to listen to me then." It was true, and it also gave him a moment to think. Dumbledore had made it clear that he should cooperate "appropriately." That probably meant that the strange Auror wasn't an ally, but he could say a lot of the truth. Anything he would have said that night, almost -- anything except that Sirius was an animagus. All of the truth that didn't endanger Sirius, he decided, as Tonks cleared her throat.

"Was there something you tried to say then?" she prompted.

"That he didn't hurt me," Harry said firmly. "That he was nice. That he said he was innocent. And everyone kept telling me to be quiet, and saying I was hysterical, or that I'd been Confunded, and they were going to suck out his soul without even listening to what he had to say, and I'm glad he escaped!"

He stopped. Auror Mason was staring at him.

"Sorry." He was sounding half-hysterical now. Harry hadn't expected to recall his feelings at the time so keenly. "I just -- I haven't talked about this since, really. But it was horrible. And Minister Fudge was right there, and he was listening to Snape, like an adult that had seen half of what had happened had to be more reliable than a teenager who had seen all of it."

"Was Professor Snape inaccurate?" Auror Mason asked.

"He hates Sirius, and he hated me, then, and he assumed things that were wrong." Harry let out a short huff of breath. "I do believe he thought he was protecting me, and looking back on it, considering what he knew, what he did was very brave." He was admitting that to himself, for the first time, as much as to them. Snape had known he was facing an unmedicated werewolf and a man who had carelessly nearly killed him as a boy, and he had thought he was facing a mass murderer. That wasn't just vainglory, or hatred of Sirius -- he must initially have been moved as much by the need to protect three students from what he feared himself. "It's just that he wouldn't listen."

"Well, we're listening," Tonks said. "Tell us what happened."

"Sirius grabbed Ron -- my friend, Ron Weasley -- and took him back to an abandoned house, and Hermione Granger and I followed. Except it turned out he wasn't after Ron--"

"He was after you?" Mason suggested.

"Let him talk," Tonks chided, and Mason quieted. Harry wondered if she had seniority.

"No, he was after Ron's rat. He said Ron's rat was Peter Pettigrew in his animagus form--" Harry had to stop again as Auror Mason laughed. Auror Tonks glared at him.

"Richard, do you have any training in interrogation protocol?" she asked pointedly.

"Really, Tonks! Clearly the man had gone round the bend." He looked scornfully at Harry. "Did you believe him?"

"Actually," Harry spat, "no. Not at first."

"What convinced you?" Tonks asked.

"Well," Harry said coldly, "I think that would be when he cast a spell on Ron's rat, forcing him to human form, and the man started begging all of us for mercy."

The room was silent. Suddenly afraid that he had said too much, Harry looked nervously at Tonks. To his relief, she smiled and gave him a little nod. "Well," she said, "that's certainly new information."

"We'd known Ron's rat was too old," Harry said. "Ron had had him for the three years that I'd known him, and he'd been Percy's rat for years before that, and the Weasleys had just found him in the garden -- spying, probably. And he was missing a finger."

"As Peter Pettigrew would be," Tonks said, understanding.

"Right. And Sirius told me that Peter had actually been my parents' Secret Keeper, although they let everyone think it was him, and when they died, he went after Peter, who turned into a rat and ducked down the sewers, and caused the explosion as a cover."

"And this rat animagus who was allegedly Peter Pettigrew?" Mason asked, his brow furrowed.

"Denied it at first, but then switched to saying he had no choice. While he was begging for mercy, I mean. He said that Sirius 'didn't understand' how terrible Voldemort was...." Harry had to stop and swallow. Why hadn't he just let them kill Pettigrew? They could have brought back the body, and said it was self-defense -- even now, though, he didn't think he could do that, and he'd been far more innocent then.

"So we knocked him out and were bringing him back. Except we'd already knocked Professor Snape out -- sort of accidentally. And when Professor Lupin turned into a wolf, Pettigrew revived and escaped as a rat, since Sirius was busy protecting us from the wolf, and then Professor Snape revived and kept us from going after the rat."

"During the time that you were with Sirius Black, did he explain how he had escaped from Azkaban?"

"No. Just that he'd seen the rat with Ron in a picture in the paper, and he'd known that he had to get to Hogwarts, because Pettigrew was set up where he could kill me if Voldemort came back, and Sirius wanted to protect me."

There was a moment of silence as they digested this, or possibly as Mason did, and Tonks pretended to.

"Have you heard from him since?"

Harry started to shake his head, but then stopped. "Just once," he said, letting his nervousness show. "He wrote to me after he escaped and told me he was safe, but that he was leaving the country and wouldn't be able to keep in touch."

Auror Tonks nodded. "I think that will do for today, then. I expect that Ron Weasley would be able to provide us with a picture of this rat?"

Harry nodded. "Probably. Shall I send him?"

"If you would, thank you," Tonks said. "That will give us time to make a quick report."

Harry nearly flew down to the Great Hall.

"Ron," he said, grabbing a sausage from the table and folding a slice of bread around it, "you need to come with me right away!"

"What about me?" Hermione asked.

"Come along if you like."

Harry led his friends out of the room and up the now-empty staircase. "The Aurors wanted to ask me about Sirius," he told them quietly, "-- about what happened in our third year, I mean. And they want pictures of Scabbers, Ron."

"I only have two that he's in," Ron said. "I threw most of them away."

"Well, that was silly!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Two's better than none," Harry said, waving it off.

"But they believe you?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Well, at least one of them did. I've heard that Pettigrew's been spotted, but don't tell anyone. Oh, and both of you should know exactly what I told them...."

During the trip up to and back down from Gryffindor, they settled the amended story of their encounter with Sirius, and decided that if a dog was necessary, it should be one that Sirius had kept under magical control. Harry raced off to Defense Against the Dark Arts feeling giddy with hope.

You're unusually cheerful this morning, Draco wrote in the Liber Geminus, as Professor Hecksban launched into a review of what they had learned so far about protecting enclosed spaces.

I talked to your cousin -- the one you met this summer.

She had news?

Not directly, but she and another Auror questioned me about what happened during my third year. I don't want to say more in writing.

Even here?

Right.

"Harry?" Professor Hecksban prompted.

"I-- Um, what?"

The young professor looked distinctly amused. "I was wondering if you had a hypothesis."

"Um...." Harry looked desperately around, but there was nothing to indicate what they may have been talking about. The blackboard had a ring of yellow loops drawn over a red box. It might have meant anything. "I'm afraid I missed the question."

"I see." Hecksban cocked his head to the side. "What was the last thing you heard?"

"You were summarizing the reading. Which, you know, I understood."

"However, two other people had questions, and it really didn't take that long."

"I understand."

"And will you try to pay closer attention next time?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry."

Hecksban nodded. "I had just introduced the next subject, which is how to protect spaces that do not have a physical delineation, such as walls or curtains. How do you think you would do that?"

Harry thought. A privacy spell of that sort would be useful. "Do you sort of imagine one, like with a shield spell?"

"Do you imagine a physical form for a shield spell?"

"Well, yes. For, you know, size and shape." To Harry's embarrassment, someone sniggered, but a moment later, Hecksban nodded.

"That's an advanced technique. You seem to have good instincts for combat spells. Draco?"

"Harry's half right," Draco said. "Except you don't just imagine it; you also draw it with your wand."

"Draw?"

"Sketch. Single lines where you want walls."

Hecksban nodded again. "Generally, yes. However, if your mental construct is strong enough without it, the sketching is unnecessary, so in that sense, Harry is more than half right." He smiled brightly at the class and drew his wand. "To start out, however, you will all use drawing, whether you think you need it or not. Like so...."

He whipped his wand around him in a spiral, and a glowing golden dome formed over him.

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed from the door.

Harry grinned back at him. Remembering Draco's advice from earlier, he tapped the table beside him, beckoning Ron to join them. To his surprise, Ron did.

The following several mornings, Harry couldn't help looking through the Daily Prophet for news about Sirius, although he suspected it was too early. He didn't find anything. It was Saturday when Hermione handed him the front section from Dean's Muggle paper.

"Here," she said, pointing out a small picture at the bottom of the front page. Harry looked. The man in the picture was immediately familiar. The text below described him as an escaped criminal.

"Police in Burton-on-Bligh consider Mr. Blunt the most likely suspect in the brutal murder of a local family two nights ago. However...."

Harry looked up. "And the Daily Prophet doesn't have anything?"

Looking troubled, she shook her head. "Nothing."

"That's mad!"

"Of course it is."

"If it was Fudge, I could understand, but Minister Ramsley is supposed to be keen on enforcement, right?"

She let out a breath. "That doesn't mean he wants to admit failure."

"People could get killed!" Harry's voice had risen. Other students were looking at them, he realized. Even some of the nearby Hufflepuffs were staring. He lifted the paper. "Look," he began loudly, but Hermione grabbed his arm, weighing it down.

"Later," she hissed. "We should think about it."

"Think!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "It's a cover-up! People need to know--"

"People here don't need to know now--"

"Harry," said Draco's cool voice. "You are making a spectacle of yourself ... over a Muggle newspaper."

"Nott escaped!" Harry retorted, shoving the paper at him.

Draco stared for a moment, reached his hand out, and then quickly pulled it back. "Put that in your bag," he said, the words clipped and precise. "Let's take a walk. We need to plan."

Nodding, Harry folded the paper and tucked it away. Hermione gave an exasperated huff, and Draco arched one pale eyebrow as he looked over at her.

"Well?" he asked. "Are you coming?"

"I am," Ron declared defiantly, but Draco merely nodded. "Very good. Anyone else?"

"It's my paper," Dean stated, standing with Hermione. For the first time in the encounter, Draco's expression soured. Harry jostled him.

"Come along if you like," he said to Dean. "It matters to you."

Surveying the standing Gryffindors, Draco slowly nodded his consent, and then turned away. As a group, they started towards the door. Linnet met them at the end of the tables.

"Draco...."

"Yes," he said. "Come along."

"Gilbert--"

"Not yet."

"Now wait a minute--" Dean began.

"Dean," Harry said sharply. "No. She's fine." He spoke with more confidence than he felt. He had met Linnet, but he didn't know her well. He would have preferred the neutrals that he knew better.

As if summoned by the thought, Blaise and Millicent cut ahead of them and left the Great Hall. Harry was not surprised to find them loitering outside it.

"Thought we'd tag along," Blaise said coolly, falling into step with the group. "Just in case you had something suicidal in mind."

Draco stopped short, and looked back at their group. "This," he said, "is ridiculous. Eight people?"

"Well, it's certainly not subtle," Blaise shot back.

"It doesn't need to be," Harry said.

With a huff, Draco resumed walking. Before they had crossed the courtyard, Ginny Weasley had joined them and was accepted without comment. The day was bright, but the wind cutting, and by mutual agreement, they went down to the pitch, where they could huddle in the lee of the stands.

"So," Linnet asked, as she stepped past Millicent, "what's up?"

Harry took out the paper and spread it against the wall, pointing at the photograph. "I'm sure that's Mr. Nott."

Draco moved forward and took a closer look at the caption. "Escaped criminal John Blunt," he read. "Police in Burton-on-Bligh consider Mr. Blunt the most likely suspect in the brutal murder of a local family two nights ago. Blunt had escaped police custody during a prison transfer earlier that day. According to police reports, the only items stolen from the victims' home were clothing and food, which the escaped prisoner would have needed. Investigators have no theory as to why two serviceable cars were left--"

"Because he can't drive," Harry said.

Ron squinted at the paper. "I'm not sure...."

"I am," Draco said. "And I probably saw more of Mr. Nott than you did."

"Theo must know," Blaise contributed. "He's been disturbingly cheerful since he got that letter yesterday."

"And here I was assuming his mother had found him a wife," Draco remarked. "Yes, that would explain a few of the comments he made last night."

"But wouldn't it be in the Daily Prophet?" Linnet asked.

Ginny snorted. "Not if the Ministry is hiding it."

"Why would they, though?" Ron asked. "Minister Ramsley has been trying to get support for tracking down Death Eaters, right?"

"All the more reason to not admit he lost one," Harry said bitterly.

"Unless," Draco suggested, "they want to lull him into a false sense of security."

"But people should be warned!"

"No necessarily. After this summer's trial, most wizards and witches would recognize Nott."

Harry hesitated. That was a point. "Recognize, yes," he said. "Know to keep their kids in, though? To not walk alone daydreaming, with a wand to be grabbed?"

"And it's especially dangerous for Muggleborn citizens or mixed families who don't get a Muggle paper," Hermione pointed out.

"So, do we duplicate this and post it all over school or not?" Ginny asked. Everyone looked at her. "Well? That is the question, isn't it?"

"Succinctly put, yes," Draco said. "Of course, Harry could also grant some lucky journalist an interview -- but that puts him in opposition to Minister Ramsley, and I think we should avoid that, at least while he is in school."

"Maybe we should talk to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said.

"Why?" Harry said scornfully. "So we can wait for him to handle it?"

"Why not?" Ginny asked, confused.

"I think that's an excellent idea," Draco said smoothly, with a quick, quelling look at Harry. "If he acts, we will have no need to. If he does not, we can consider some other avenue of approach. Miss Bones of Hufflepuff, perhaps? Since her aunt is already in the opposition...."

"Or just send a copy to my brothers," Ron said. "The twins could have that all over London in hours."

"Better to start at the top," Blaise opined. "In case there is a reason, and we just don't get it."

Harry couldn't think of any reason that would make the risk to the population worth it, but he lifted his chin. "All right. We start with Dumbledore. But we don't wait if he brushes it off."

After a moment's hesitation, Draco nodded. "Agreed. For now, this isn't a secret, but it's just gossip -- an oddity. Spread it in whispers, if at all. Harry, Hermione, and I will talk to Dumbledore." The Gryffindors looked to Harry, and the Slytherins to Draco, but within a few seconds, everyone had nodded. Linnet and Blaise headed back to the castle in silent proximity, and Dean left with Ginny, whispering. Ron and Millicent lingered.

"Is there some reason you're still here?" Hermione asked tightly, as Millicent looked out at the path.

Millicent shrugged. "In case someone doesn't approve of the company Malfoy keeps, of course. Is there some reason we haven't headed back yet?"

"We should make copies," Harry said. "Before we go handing this one to him."

"Harry...." Hermione protested.

"Look, I know he's on our side, okay? He just always thinks his way is the best, and I'm not giving this up to him."

Draco nodded. "I also would prefer the flexibility. One for each of us, perhaps?"

Millicent, her own copy of the article tucked inside her robes, left them just inside the Entrance Hall. Ron followed them up to the second floor landing. There, he paused and cleared his throat. "Er, would you like another...?"

"I think the office will be crowded as it is," Hermione said reasonably.

"Right. So why not just Harry?"

To Harry's amusement, Hermione and Draco shared a look.

"As Head Girl and Head Boy," Draco said, "we represent the students in general, as well as the two houses most closely tied to the matter."

"And Harry will lose his temper if this goes badly," Hermione added.

Draco nodded. "Better to launch three of us at the encounter, I think."

"I will not--"

"Yes, you would," Hermione said amiably. "But we don't mind."

Ron snorted. "We're all impressed you dare, honestly."

The password today was Blood Pops, which Harry found a bit disturbing. They rode the spiral staircase up to the antechamber and found the door to the office open. Dumbledore, standing next to Fawkes, turned as they arrived.

"Ah," he said. "I had thought that someone would arrive, but had not expected all three of you. Last spring's alliance survives, does it?"

Hermione shot a look at Draco. "Yes," she said.

"Impressive. And that, I believe, makes the strange group that left breakfast this morning more understandable. You have, perhaps, come to tell me what led to that sudden display of house unity?"

"Precisely, sir," Draco answered, and Harry took the newspaper from his bag and extended it to the headmaster. Dumbledore accepted it with deep nod. He frowned at the grey newsprint.

"Air Crash in Sumatra?"

"Below that, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore tilted the paper and adjusted his half-moon glasses. "I see more of this 'EU' curren-- Oh!" He lifted the paper closer. "Oh, dear."

"We didn't find anything in the Prophet, sir," Hermione explained. "But it does look like Mr. Nott."

"Looks like!" Draco exclaimed. "It is him; I'm certain."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore murmured, stumbling back and sinking into one of the chairs usually used by visitors. The paper was still in his hand. "How disheartening."

"The Ministry's covering it up," Harry said. "They have to be."

"Well," Dumbledore demurred. "I'm sure Minister Ramsley sees it merely as not mentioning--"

"They're endangering people!"

Dumbledore looked up, all weakness suddenly gone. "Oh, I quite agree, my dear boy. It is unconscionable."

"We thought," Draco said neutrally, "that you might inquire as to whether there was some extraordinary justification for this oversight. A hostage, perhaps, or a delicate plan to recapture the fugitive."

"And if not," Harry said, "tell people."

"Yes." Dumbledore stood, leaning for a moment on the arm of the chair before straightening. "That, I will do. Thank you all for coming to me. Now, I believe I must arrange a visit to London."

Draco and Hermione turned at the dismissal, but Harry did not. "If this stays secret," he said fiercely, "I want a reason."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. A moment later, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Of course you do, Mr. Potter," he said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "And I will see to it that you get one, although it may not be one you can relay to everyone that you left breakfast with this morning."

Harry nodded. "Understood." It wasn't, he told himself, promising anything.

"Good."

"Harry?" Ron called. On the verge of leaving the Quidditch changing rooms, Harry paused reluctantly, pulling the door mostly closed to keep out the frosty night air. Gryffindor's practice hadn't started until after dinner, but it had been a good one. Harry had taken a quick warming shower; he was looking forward to meeting Draco -- privately, this time.

"Yeah?" he said neutrally.

"I wanted to talk." Ron shook his still-dripping hair nervously. "About, you know, the divination thing."

That was enough to pull Harry back. He reviewed the team in his mind, confirming that everyone else had left. "Okay."

"I think I might, y'know, do it, but I want more information. About what's involved."

Harry nodded. "I think-- I know you two don't get along, but I think you should talk with Draco."

Ron's face closed a little. "Why? Don't know that I'll believe what he says."

"Well, Draco and me, I mean. I can tell you about some things, but he did the potions research, and knows more about some aspects of it than I do." Harry thought quickly. He didn't want to bring Ron down to the Chamber of Secrets before he was committed, but Draco was probably already waiting for him down there. "Look, how about this? I'll go and find Draco, and we'll meet you in half an hour, outside the library."

After only a moment of hesitation, Ron nodded. "Okay."

When Harry entered the Chamber of Secrets, Draco immediately crossed over to him and kissed him. While Harry was trying to remind himself that he had a mission, Draco began to nuzzle his hair.

"You smell like flying," he murmured, and Harry pressed against the warmth of his body.

"God. I wish I could just drag you off to bed."

"Can't you?" Draco pulled back enough to look at him.

Sighing, Harry moved to take Draco's hands in his own. "Sorry, but no. Ron's decided he wants to talk about the divination, and has even agreed to hear the details from you, so I told him I'd bring you up to talk."

"We're not doing that here?"

"Not if we're just talking. I thought the space on the fourth floor, where the Uncommon Room will be."

"Is it clean enough?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not great, but Mill and I have been working on it. There's a clear space big enough for twenty, at least."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Mill?" he asked mockingly.

"Well, she's good at throwing rocks around," Harry answered, ignoring the implied question.

"I expect so. Were you planning to inform me of this little project?"

Harry grinned. "When it was clean enough. I thought you might help with the lighting charms, and maybe furniture."

Draco looked around at their space, which now had shelves under the table to hold parchment, quills, and glasses. "Would it help to bring drinks?"

"I hadn't thought about it." Harry frowned. "I don't want to mess up his judgment. It's his decision."

"But it may help him to feel included," Draco argued. "Let's. Not too much, as you say; I wouldn't want him to feel tricked. I'll make a carafe, and we can pour off most of the less expensive cognac to leave here, and then bring enough for each of us to have a glass."

"I...." Harry didn't like the idea. "No," he said. "I don't want to be carrying it in the halls, and I brought it for here, anyway. Let's stop at the kitchens for butterbeer and cakes."

"That seems too ... everyday."

"But it needs to be," Harry retorted, his feelings finally coalescing. "Otherwise, he'll feel like we're paying him off, and he won't want to do it."

Draco shook his head. "Gryffindors!" he said, but he reached out to thread his fingers though Harry's. "Let's go, then."

Ron was waiting half-way between the main staircase and the library, and he stepped out of the shadows silently, giving Draco an almost furtive nod. Going along with the mode, Harry grinned at him and gestured at him to come along as he set off away from the library and toward the back stairs.

When they were safely out of trafficked areas, he stopped. "All right," he said, "I want to take you somewhere to talk. It's a secret, though; you need to promise you won't tell."

Ron hesitated. "What about Hermione?"

"Especially not Hermione," Harry answered. "Not now. In a month or so, maybe."

"So this isn't some other way into Salazar's hideout."

"No. This is a space I want for the Uncommon Room."

Ron shook his head, his eyes flicking to Draco and away. "I still think that's a bad idea. I don't like you visiting with Slytherins, Harry."

"You can't stop me, and you know it. Do you want be able to find me when I am, or not?"

Ron bit his lip for a moment, and then sighed. "All right. I promise."

"Come on, then."

Ron wasn't startled by the mirror. They had come this way as third years, shortly after Harry got the Marauders' Map, and had confirmed that the passageway was indeed blocked. He did give Harry an odd look as Harry tapped the glass and then reached through it to open the door, but he followed Harry through readily, ignoring Draco at his back. His eyes widened as Harry activated the glowing strip on the walls.

"We didn't notice that, before."

"No, and not all of it works," Harry said, leading Ron and Draco around the curve and into the wide space beyond. "It should be twice as bright as it is, in here. I need someone who can figure out the charm work to fix the one on the other side."

"You've been working on this," Ron said.

"A bit," Harry agreed. "Still no furniture, I'm afraid, but we stopped and picked up some cushions."

"Oh?" Ron asked, looking curiously at their school bags. Draco put his down and drew his wand with a flourish. Ron, Harry noted, brought his hand to his own wand at that.

"Observe," Draco declared and pulling a scone-sized object out of his bag, tossed it in the air and pointed his wand at it. It came down a large, thick cushion, big enough to sit on. He repeated the procedure with five more cushions, leaving a broad heap of them. Harry pulled the nearest one clear of the others, plopped down on it, and set down their picnic basket from the House Elves. He took out a platter of little cakes and biscuits, and then six bottles of butterbeer.

Ron snorted. "Planning to get me drunk?"

"Not tonight," Draco said coolly, extracting his own cushion. "It will do no good to have you make a decision you don't understand."

"Right," Harry said, overturning the basket and setting the platter on it. "And anyway, since when would two bottles of butterbeer get you drunk?"

Ron snorted. "Depends on whether you've added something else to them, like the twins used to."

Draco coughed slightly. "Ah," he said. "The twins."

"Seriously," Harry continued, "I want you to have all the information on this before you promise anything. I won't think less of you if you say no, but if you say yes, I expect you to mean it."

Ron studied him for a moment, and then nodded. "All right," he said, sitting down on a cushion, so his long legs sprawled out, one in front and one bent to the side. "Let's hear it."

Draco sighed, and sat on the other side of Harry, just out of reach, so the three of them faced in from a curve. "We have four options, so far." He took a large vial full of shimmering liquid from his pocket, and tilted it in the dim light. "Of these, we have only completed the base potion for one. This is the least Dark of the methods, but also the least likely to work."

Ron was staring, mesmerized, at the vial. Harry leaned forward to wave a hand in front of his face. "You in there, Ron?"

"Um, wha--" With a visible shake, Ron looked away. Without comment, Draco lowered the vial so it was obscured by the shadows from the folds of his robes. "Um, yeah," Ron said. "Go on."

"This one," Draco said, "is the least Dark. The base potion is not Dark at all, and the components were fairly easy to procure. As the diviner, however, you would need to draw Harry's blood -- not much; a prick of the third finger should do -- and drip it into the base potion for the scrying."

Ron, who had pulled his lip tight under his teeth at the mention of drawing blood, slowly relaxed and nodded.

"There is some chance," Draco continued, "that the act of bleeding him in a magical context will make the divination Dark Arts. I haven't tested this, for obvious reasons--"

"What, is Dumbledore keeping an eye on you?" Ron needled.

Draco's brow drew down in surprised puzzlement. "I have the Quiris," he said. "Didn't you know?"

Harry shrugged. "No reason he would. I keep forgetting it myself, since I haven't seen them, yet."

"Well, we need to remedy that," Draco said crisply. "In any case, the Quiris-- You do know what they are, don't you?"

"Magical, Potter-bred creatures that can detect Dark energies."

"Precisely. So if I attempted the experiment, and it did turn out to be Dark, they would repulse me and I would anger them, and I would be unable to see to their care."

Ron's eyebrows rose. "You've never struck me as an animal-lover, Malfoy."

Harry grinned. "The Quiris are a little bit different."

Malfoy nodded. "Their presence...." His mouth compressed as he bit the inside of his lip. "It feels rather like the first flush of fancying someone," he confessed, "but translated to an appropriate form for a pet."

Harry snorted. "If you haven't been doing Dark Arts."

"Can I see them?" Ron asked.

"Of course," Draco said promptly. "The headmaster has forbidden me to have them out in public, but they are not a secret."

"Why can't they be out in public then?" Ron asked, drawing an elegant shrug from Draco.

"Perhaps he does not wish to know who might flee them."

"You mean he doesn't want to embarrass Snape?" Harry shot back.

"An irresponsible allegation, Harry," Draco said calmly.

"Oh, yes, of course. An entirely unwarranted assumption on my part." Still, he smiled as he said it, and Draco returned it.

"It certainly should be," he retorted mildly. "In any case, Weasley, that is the first option. The second is similar, but adds a focus-enhancing potion taken before that. It would not add any potentially Dark elements, but would be a little more dangerous.

"The third option," he continued, at Ron's nod, "recreates the procedure used by the Seer whom Harry went to this summer. Have you heard about that?"

"Not in detail," Ron said, looking between them, and Harry sighed.

"It was kind of creepy," he said. "I paid her in silver, and she transfigured the silver into a bowl--"

"Leaving the tarnish as streaks," Draco added. "That turns out to be important, as is the fact of payment."

"Right," Harry said. "So you'd have to keep the silver afterwards, although you could turn it back into Sickles and spend it, of course. I just can't get it back."

"That's weird," Ron said.

Draco shrugged. "It establishes a contractual relationship between the diviner and the source of the blood."

"Oh, so this one uses blood too?"

Harry nodded. "A lot more of it." He started to reach for the butterbeer, but then took a chocolate biscuit instead. "She cut me where Wormtail did, and spilled a lot of my blood into the bowl. A cup or more. Snape gave me Blood Replenisher right afterwards. Then she poured a potion on top -- and that's not the nicest stuff, either; Draco won't be able to finish it himself if the Quiris are still here -- and combined them, then scried from that. Oh -- and she painted some of the potion onto her face -- eyelids and around the mouth--"

"Disgusting!"

"Yeah. And then I got to ask her one question--"

"Just one?"

"Yeah, but her answer wasn't just...." Harry tried to think how to explain.

"The question focused her divination," Draco said clearly. "From there, her answer could extend, if the nature of the question showed her paths."

"Right," Harry said. "Except she realized that she was mostly seeing me, and said it would take someone who knew me better to sort out the threads that were Voldemort."

Ron shuddered. "Well, with any luck, we won't need to go that far, and if we do, it should be enough."

Draco nodded. "With luck, yes. I would prefer not to go to the fourth method, as that would require you to drink a potion containing Harry's blood, and I can do nothing that would entirely safeguard either of you from unintended consequences."

"All right!" Harry said quickly. "Enough of that." He opened a butterbeer and cast a quick warming charm on it. "Ron?"

Ron nodded and took the bottle, but didn't taste it or look at it. His gaze was locked on nothing as his eyes narrowed and then relaxed. "I'll do it," he said, squaring his shoulders and looking at Harry. "The first three, at least." He lifted the bottle in a toast. "Cheers."

"Thank you," Harry said, passing a second warmed bottle to Draco before opening one for himself. "I appreciate it."

"Okay," Ron said, his voice a little bit hoarse. "Er ... so, shall I try it now?"

"No," Draco said. "Not here."

"We could move."

Harry shook his head. He wanted Ron to really understand this. "No. Next week will be soon enough."

"Besides," Draco said, "you've started on butterbeer. Thus, business is concluded."

Harry shot him a quick look. He was pretty sure that even a swallow or two of cognac wouldn't interfere with any divination that didn't involve drinking a potion. On the other hand, assuming that should keep Ron from arguing, and maybe that was Draco's intent. Or maybe it wasn't a warning, but just some sort of etiquette thing.

"All right." Ron sat back. "Though in some ways, it would be easier to do it right away."

"Gryffindor," Draco sniffed.

"You're involved with one," Ron retorted.

"Oh, I'm quite aware of that," Draco said, smiling at Harry. "Still, I can hardly help it if some of your attitudes continue to amuse me."

"Well, that's mutual," Harry interjected. "So, when should we go and see the Quiris?"

Draco considered. "After breakfast tomorrow? We have time before our meeting with Professor McGonagall."

"Why are you meeting with our head of house?" Ron asked.

Draco frowned. "For our project."

"Combined transfiguration, Ron, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"We've mostly been talking about Quidditch, this week," Harry explained to Draco. "Anything else has been in passing."

"Except this," Ron pointed out, with a scowl. "And Nott. I can pay attention if it matters."

"And you don't think schoolwork matters?" Draco said sharply.

"Not constantly," Ron answered. "Besides, it's not even my schoolwork."

"Ah," Draco answered. "That's true, I suppose." Harry could almost see the brittle tension behind the cool words. He turned on his cushion, nudging it closer as he moved, to sit leaning against Draco.

"Definitely not yours," he affirmed, before looking back to Ron. "So, how is your schoolwork going? It's odd only having you in three of my classes."

"Well, if you hadn't stayed in Potions, of all things..."

They talked for an hour, with Harry occasionally heading off building clashes between Ron and Draco. Despite the extra work, he was happy, and they both pretended that nothing was odd about the situation. Harry and Ron had second bottles of butterbeer, and when Draco pushed his second back to Harry, Harry nudged it over to Ron. While Ron opened it, Draco and Harry kissed. Afterwards, Draco continued to stare at him, his eyes promising more. With an effort, Harry looked away.

"It's getting sort of late...." he said. Maybe if they left right away, he could get some time with Draco.

"Wait," Ron said. He took a quick swallow of the butterbeer. "This thing with Nott...."

"Yeah?"

"Well, that's why I agreed to talk to you -- to do this. I talked to Dean about it, and he still had yesterday's paper, so we read about the murders ...." Ron swallowed. "And he talked about Gemma, and--" He looked away. "We need to do something. Cabot isn't getting the results the Minister for Magic claims, if they're having escapes."

Slowly, Draco turned away, though he kept one hand in contact with Harry. "I suspect it was actually a breakout," he offered. "Theo was doing his best to taunt me in the common room, yesterday. Ranting on about how his family was loyal to the Dark Lord and would be rewarded, whilst my father had ineptly attempted to play both sides, and he would suffer, and Professor Snape would suffer...." Draco swallowed, and tossed his head. "It was really quite tedious."

"Oh, so that's what Blaise meant."

"Among other strange speeches, yes. So I believe his uncle was rewarded by means of contriving his release, and he has been told this to strengthen his own loyalty."

"We should probably warn Professor Snape," Harry said.

"Already done. I did note his inclusion in Theo's list of blood traitors."

Ron made a face. "That's a pretty phrase."

Draco shrugged. "It's what he calls me."

"You don't believe that, do you?"

"What, that the majority of my ancestors would consider me a traitor to my line, for my current associations and alliances? I rather do, yes. However, I do not believe they would be right to do so. People used to think the sun orbited the earth. That something was once widely believed does not make it an indisputable truth." His proud manner faded to something more sullen as he twisted his heel against the stone floor. "And perhaps they wouldn't be as united as it seems. My mother seems increasingly less dedicated to the idea of pureblood superiority the longer my father is away." His face twisted. "Not that I expect any half-bloods to show up in my list of potential wives."

Ron laughed. "You're letting your mummy pick a wife for you?"

"It isn't as if I'll want any of them. She'll choose someone I can tolerate for long enough--"

"Why not marry someone you want?" asked Ron.

"I want Harry," Draco said fiercely. "However, he is neither a pureblood, nor capable of bearing me children, so I still require a breeding wife."

Harry hid his face in his hands. He was, at once, amused, dismayed, embarrassed, flattered, and insulted, and the muddle left him unsure what would show.

Draco touched his arm briefly. "I should not have said that, here. I--"

"I'd prefer you didn't, thanks," Harry mumbled. There was an awkward silence.

"I think you're an idiot," Ron said finally, but the statement was more blunt than cutting. "He loves you, and even I can see you love him. You'll be miserable, and for what? Someone's approval, that's all."

"It's more than that," Draco said, speaking fiercely to the table. "It's family. It's history. It's what I am."

"If what you are comes down to what you can pump out of your bollocks, you're a damn sight less than human."

Draco looked up, glowering.

"Enough," Harry interjected. "Ron -- I appreciate the support, but it's not your fight."

With a soft growl, Ron sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not that I like watching this disaster," he said finally. "I should get back to Gryffindor. Coming, Harry?"

Harry looked uncertainly at Draco, whose face had gone blank.

"Nah," he said. "Think I'll go down to Slytherin." He reached out to take Draco's hand. "Mind sharing your bed, love?"

Draco brightened. "I suppose I could endure it. Should we have you back before dawn?"

"Well, before breakfast, anyway." Harry looked over at Ron. "Will you cover for me?"

Ron winced. "If I can," he agreed. "You'd better be back before Hermione is awake, though."

"I think I can manage that."

It was early enough that there was no need for subterfuge while they were still in the public corridors, but late enough that few other students were out. Draco took Harry's hand as they started down the corridor to the less-traveled east staircase.

"I really am sorry," Draco said. "But he did ask."

"I know." Harry held on to Draco and wondered when that would pull him in two. "You just ... you talk about it like it makes sense."

"It makes sense to me," Draco answered. "You just didn't grow up with.... well, anything. Of course you can't understand." Harry looked away, but Draco let go of his hand to wrap an arm tightly around him. "We have this year," Draco said intently, "and most of next, probably. Stay."

"I'm with you," Harry replied.

"Just ... I couldn't bear to lose you in advance."

Harry didn't answer, but he wrapped an arm around Draco as well. It made going down the spiral staircase awkward and slow, but they stayed like that anyway. By the third flight, they had the rhythm of it.

Around the corner from the entrance to Slytherin, they stopped.

"You should put your cloak on."

"I don't want to hide."

"I don't want to be stopped," Draco answered fiercely. "Cloak, Harry. Be a bold Gryffindor in the morning."

Hiding stung in the aftermath of what Draco had said, but Harry saw the sense of it. He told himself he would leave without it, whatever Draco said then, and he pulled his cloak out of his school bag and swung it on. Draco winced as he vanished.

"Stay close," Draco whispered. "I'll take my time with doors."

Harry had been in the Slytherin common room before, but only once when the school year was in full swing. It looked less gloomy when full of students, some of whom had taken off their scholars' robes to reveal more colorful clothing. Slytherins studying and socializing looked a lot like Gryffindors studying and socializing. Harry would have said that he expected that, but it turned out to surprise him. He was also surprised when Draco went straight to the seventh-year boys' dormitory. Harry had thought Draco might have a different room as Head Boy, but he was still in the same one as last year. The seventh-years' room was a lot more spacious with Crabbe and Goyle gone. Blaise looked up from studying as they crossed the room.

"You're back."

"Shouldn't I be?" Draco said, pausing with the door to his room open. Harry edged past him and inside.

"Yes, but Theo will be disappointed. He was hoping for more scandal."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Do."

Draco stepped in, clicking the door shut behind him, and Harry immediately pressed him up against it. They kissed hungrily.

"Merlin, I thought I'd never get you alone."

"I just thought Ron--"

"Yes, yes, while the iron is hot, and all that, so no need for it now!"

"Right." Harry went back to kissing him. Draco moaned into his mouth, and his body pressed forward, hard against Harry's. He wrapped a leg behind Harry, getting it up to his thighs, and Harry tried to pull him up and forward by his arse, and they stumbled, and nearly fell.

"All right in there?" Blaise called.

They both froze.

"Fine."

"Silencing charm!" Harry exclaimed at whisper, and they both cast one, with laughs held in so tightly that they were practically giggles.

"I can't believe that!" Harry exclaimed. "We're so careful coming in, and then we do an idiotic thing like that."

"Lust is known for degrading the mental process."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No more of that."

"Oh?" Draco asked innocently. "Is there something you would rather?"

Harry considered. He thought he was expected to just return to kisses, but instead he stepped back. "Take your clothes off," he suggested.

"Just like that?"

"I know you don't mind attention."

Draco licked his lips. "Especially yours."

"Right. So take your clothes off. I want to watch."

Laughing uneasily, Draco lifted his hands to the collar of his robes. "You are far too confident for someone with so little experience."

"Uh-huh," Harry agreed, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms. "If you don't like the idea, you'll say so, right?"

Draco undid the top fastener on his robes and straightened. "Oh, I don't think I mind." His fingers moved deftly down hidden hooks, making his robes gap over shirt and tie. There was nothing particularly special about either, to Muggle sensibilities, but they were sexy by virtue of usually being concealed.

"Good," Harry said, and Draco gave him a little smile as his robes opened entirely, showing a lower garment that was wider and looser than Muggle dress trousers, but not quite out of acceptable range for a man.

"What next?" Draco challenged, and Harry thought for a moment. "Boots," he said, "and socks." As he had expected, Draco looked even sexier barefoot, with his toes sinking into the plush green carpet. "Tie, next."

Draco undid his tie with great deliberation, running his fingers sensually down the length of silk at the end of every untraced loop, so that Harry's mouth went dry and he had to suck his lips in to moisten them. With a smug look, Draco strolled forward, the length of cloth stretched between his hands. Harry waited. When Draco cast the loop of silk over his head and behind his neck, and then used it to draw him into a kiss, Harry all but melted.

"You are not in control here," Draco said intently, as he raised reddened lips from the encounter.

"Didn't think I was," Harry confessed.

Draco raised his head. "Just to be clear," he said, and walked away again, with enough of a sashay that Harry would have thought it stupid in any other context. In private, he was enthralled.

By the bed, Draco turned. "Shirt next?" he asked. "Or bottoms?"

"That," Harry said. "The trouser-ish things." The thought of seeing Draco in just his shirt was almost unbearably hot.

With a smirk, Draco unbuttoned the garment and let it fall. Rather than kicking it away, he stepped to the side, clear of the fallen fabric. Harry bit his lip.

"Oh, you're gorgeous," Harry said, quite without meaning to.

"Hmph. You're not looking at my face when you say that."

"That's gorgeous too," Harry admitted easily.

"Why, Harry!" Draco said slyly, sliding his hands down to undo the lowest button of his shirt. "I do believe you're as shameless as I am."

Harry laughed, though paradoxically, he could feel himself blushing. "Shame is just fear," he said.

"Well, then," Draco said, undoing another button. He was now showing a wedge of skin from his sternum down. "You won't mind touching yourself while you watch?"

In answer, Harry brought his hand to the front of his robes.

"Oh no," Draco scolded. "I want to see."

Harry shook his head. "No. Not until you're naked and lying on that bed."

With a strange, high sound, Draco nodded. He undid the last front button, and then his cuffs, and dropped his shirt carelessly to the floor. With a showy arch of his body, he pulled himself up onto the bed, and then squirmed back until he could reach a pillow and pull it under his head.

"I'm here," he said, his voice suddenly very small.

Harry smiled and strolled forward. "Don't sound like that," he said. "You're stunning, and you know it."

"It just feels..... You're still dressed."

"Not for long," Harry answered, dropping his robes. He was wearing an old T-shirt, which was unfortunate; if he'd been planning for this, he would have worn the green silk. Still, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them out of the way. "I just wanted a little time to feel all of how much I want you. Touch is so fast."

Draco whined, a noise so undignified that it must have been beyond his control. "Come here," he said. "Please?"

"Yeah?" Harry asked, stepping up until his knees bumped into the duvet.

"Touch," Draco said. "Now. Fast is okay."

Harry crawled over him. "Love that," he said fiercely.

"What?"

"When you stop speaking perfectly."

Draco laughed and pulled him down. Suddenly, no amount of touch was enough. Harry had to run his hands over every inch of Draco that he could reach, and Draco looped a leg over Harry to pull him close. They rubbed together in a frantic rut, Harry touching Draco's back, Draco's hair, and feeling Draco's teeth on his shoulder as another embrace. Draco lifted his head to cry out, and the drag of skin on skin was suddenly slicker. Harry pumped against Draco's suddenly collapsed weight.

"So hot," he whispered, and Draco raised his head to look into his eyes, and a moment later Harry was following after, losing all detail behind the blinding white lightning in his head.

"Harry?"

"Mm?"

The tingle of a cleaning spell wasn't quite enough to make him lift his head. He did open his eyes.

"You're not going to fall asleep on me, are you?"

"Just resting," Harry claimed. He hadn't done anything to get ready for bed, after all, except for discarding his clothes -- well, some of them. He curled up to struggle out of his T-shirt. "Wow. I'd planned on something a little more...."

"Artful?" Draco suggested.

"Something like that."

"Mm." Draco stretched back, the twist of his arm and the grace of his final pose demonstrating 'artful'. "That is what second rounds are for."