The Cloak of Shadows

The death eaters were in Hogsmeade. That was the rumor circulating amongst the six students in the Great Hall that morning. Ron had owled Hermione to tell her his father had apparated home the previous night to warn him and the others to stay out of the village. Dumbledore sat at the head table looking troubled. Harry couldn't blame him; the outlook wasn't good. The headmaster rose slowly and the students quieted down immediately.

"As I'm sure you all know," began the headmaster, sounded old and tired, "the death eaters have now infiltrated Hogsmeade. Shortly after we left the village, they moved in, taking over several shops as well as The Three Broomsticks. It seems their number is growing by the minute. Already the homes of several prominent wizarding families have been broken into and decimated. Fortunately, we anticipated these attacks, and all the families were taken to safety. We are now working closely with the Ministry to form an army of our own."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He had known a great battle was coming, but he'd been so distracted by - other things - that he hadn't given much thought to Voldemort, or the impending war.

Dumbledore continued. "Any wizard who is of age, seventeen or older, may join. Once their training is complete, they will be stationed at Hogwarts, which will serve as the army's base. Until then, your lessons will intensify. The six of you, along with Mr. Weasley, myself, and the professors, will be commanding various divisions. I trust you all with this responsibility." The headmaster swayed a bit on his feet. Professor McGonagall, who was seated beside him, grabbed his arm and lowered him into his chair, casting a worried glance at Remus, who was seated on his other side. She stood up then, one hand still on the older wizard's shoulder.

"That is all for now, students. Lessons will begin immediately after breakfast, and continue until dinner. No one, I repeat, no one -" her eyes flicked to Harry, and then to Draco, who still insisted on sitting at the Slytherin table, "will leave the castle after dark, for any reason. Anyone who does will have the utmost punishment inflicted upon him or her." McGonagall paused to let this sink in. Once she was satisfied with the nervous looks on all the students' faces, she continued. "Very well then. Breakfast is dismissed, please proceed to your lessons."

Harry remained behind for a moment, concerned about the headmaster. "Professor -" he began, walking up to McGonagall. She didn't allow him to continue.

"Off to your lessons, Potter," she said briskly.

"But professor, I was just wondering... the headmaster..." Dumbledore had been helped from his chair by Hagrid, who looked to be half-carrying the man out of the Great Hall.

"The headmaster is fine, Potter. He is tired and worried, as well he should be. Once he gets some rest, he will be back to his old self." Harry couldn't help but note that Professor McGonagall's voice faltered as she said this. "Now, go on. I believe Sirius and Remus are waiting for you."

Harry had no choice but to exit the Great Hall and head to the DADA classroom, but a great sense of foreboding had settled in his stomach. Upon entering the room, it grew even worse. Remus was seated in the corner of the classroom, staring solemnly out the window. Worry lines creased his normally young face, making him look much older than he was.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked, immediately anxious at his godfather's absence. Ever since fifth year, when everyone thought Sirius had died in the fight with the death eaters, Harry had been almost as protective as if he were the parent and Sirius was the child.

Remus sighed. "He's not feeling well Harry. He said to tell you he's fine and he'll be back tomorrow for your lesson." He attempted a smile, but it died halfway through and he sighed again. Harry knew Remus worried about Sirius just as much as he did.

"Is he taking his potion?" Sirius had been returned to life by none other than Professor Snape, his one-time worst enemy. The spell involved a very complex potion, steeped in the dark arts, which Sirius had to drink once a month to keep his strength. When Sirius had been brought back, Remus had joked that the two of them would drink their potions together before the full moon. Dumbledore had been resistant to using the spell to bring Sirius back to life, but after seeing how distraught Harry was without him, he allowed Snape to perform the spell.

Remus nodded. "Last night. He always gets weak just after he takes it." Harry nodded, taking a seat at one of the desks. Neither he nor Remus spoke. Harry suspected they both had more important things weighing on their minds than this lesson.

Harry gazed longingly out the window of the classroom, his thoughts drifting to flying, to the Firebolt that had been locked, unused, in his trunk since the end of sixth year. Remus watched the boy sympathetically. In the brief time they had both thought Sirius dead, they had grown as close as a father and son. They had grieved together, and laughed together over old memories together. Remus could vividly recall the night Harry had caught him sobbing on Sirius's bed at the old Black home at Grimmauld Place. He had tried to hard to be strong for Harry, to shield from him the pain he felt over losing his other half for the second time. The strain had finally become too much to bear.

The boy had wrapped his slim arms around his former professor's shoulders and cried with him. He had whispered that everything would be alright, that they would get through it together. That moment had cemented their relationship permanently.

When Sirius was brought back, they had shared their joy. The three of them, in the week before Sirius once again had to go into hiding, became a family of sorts. A bit odd, perhaps, but full of love nonetheless.

Remus sighed, catching Harry's attention.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Harry asked, his green eyes full of understanding.

"Of course," said Remus simply. "And you're thinking about Quidditch."

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "Yes. Well, not Quidditch necessarily, but flying. I miss it so much."

"It's in your blood."

Harry smiled a bit. "Yes. I've always felt it was a part of who I am. When I was banned during fifth year, I thought I would die." Remus frowned, remembering. "Rem, do you think Dumbledore -"

"No."

"Well then, maybe Sirius -"

"No, Harry. No one is going to give you permission to go flying around the grounds." Harry grumbled at the way Remus could read his mind. "It's too dangerous Harry - you know that. Now come on, you and I have wasted enough time today. Let's work on your Patronus, and then I'll let you go."

Harry's breath caught in his chest. This was what he'd been dreading, having to face the boggart again.

"Um, can't we work on something else Remus? I - I don't think I'm up to the boggart today."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Harry, I'm surprised at you. I thought after Dumbledore's speech today you'd be raring to go."

Harry felt his cheeks go pink with shame. "Sure. Sure I am Remus. I just..." Harry had no excuse. "Well, would you mind just - maybe stepping outside for a while?"

Remus looked confused. "Harry, I'm not sure I understand what the problem is. Sirius and I were both in here the last time you faced the boggart -"

"Yes, but you were behind the wardrobe doors and you couldn't see anything. You didn't see anything, did you?" Harry asked quickly.

"No, you had it pretty much under control by the time we realized anything was wrong. Look Harry, I know you may be suffering from some sort of performance anxiety, and you think it'll be easier if I'm not standing over your shoulder -"

"Yes!" said Harry, nodding, a little too quickly. "Yes, that's it exactly."

"And that's precisely why I'm not going to leave." Harry's face fell. "Harry, what happened last time was very dangerous. The vision itself can't hurt you, but the boggart can. It feeds off your fears, makes you weak. If you can't fight it, it will overpower you. You've been away from the Dementors for a long time now, you aren't used to combating them. I need to be in here in case something goes wrong." Before Harry could protest any further, Remus walked to the wardrobe and flung the door open, moving to stand a bit behind Harry, so as not to confuse the boggart.

Saying that Harry was even more stunned than last time would have been an understatement. He had been prepared to see Draco standing before him, and indeed, he did find himself facing the attractive blonde Slytherin. However, there was no softness in the gray eyes, no secretive smile.

Harry heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and knew that Remus had seen his worst fear. Harry wished he could gasp too, wished he could show emotion, but found he was numb, rooted to the spot.

Standing in front of them was Draco, slate gray eyes glazed, mouth slightly open, unmistakably dead.

Harry raised his wand almost imperceptibly. "Ri-riddikulus," he whispered. Nothing happened. He could see nothing to laugh at about the situation. Harry began to feel light-headed, and knew the boggart was growing stronger from his fear. In a moment, he would collapse. He would give into the fear, and it would take him. Where, he didn't know.

Suddenly, Remus moved forward, pushing Harry behind him. As Harry fell to the floor, he vaguely saw Draco's lifeless form change into a floating silvery orb. Then, his eyelids fell, and he allowed darkness to overtake him.

***

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been out. He awoke to find himself lying prone on Remus's desk, the older man peering worriedly into his face.

"Harry? Harry, oh thank goodness," he said, relief flooding his eyes. "How do you feel? Should I send for Madame Pomfrey?"

"No," Harry croaked, his voice only slightly above a whisper. "I'm fine. I just -" His head was beginning to spin again. Whatever the boggart had done had taken a lot out of him. He leaned back into the hard wood of the desk as a though rushed into his mind. "Draco!" he said, trying to sit up. Remus placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back gently.

"Lie down Harry. You need to regain your strength. The boggart took a lot of energy from you before I was able to stop him."

"But Draco," he said, fighting against the older man.

"Draco is fine, Harry. The visions aren't prophetic, they simply show you what you fear most." Remus paused for a moment, as though he wasn't sure he should continue. "Harry, can you tell me why Draco's death is the one thing you fear most?"

Harry groaned and shut his eyes tightly. He could no longer pretend it away. Remus had seen, and he would have to answer for it. "No," he said truthfully. "I don't know why."

"But that's what you saw last time? That's why you were so upset."

"Yes," Harry admitted. Then he thought back. "Well no, not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Draco last time, yes. But," Harry took a deep breath, trying not to shiver as the image of Draco, pale and limp, came back to him. "He wasn't dead. He was just... I mean, he looked... He was fine." Remus pondered this for a moment.

"So last week your greatest fear was Draco himself, and this week it's his death?" Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say. Remus frowned. "Well, I'll speak to Sirius, maybe he'll have an -"

"No!" Harry shouted, abruptly sitting up, ignoring the splitting pain in his head as he did so.

"Harry, I think it's best -"

"No," Harry said again, a bit calmer, but just as firm. "I don't want Sirius to know. He doesn't need to be bothered with this." Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Harry cut him off. "Sirius will just worry for no reason. I don't want him to know Remus. Please." Something about the pleading note in Harry's voice seemed to change Remus's mind, and his eyes softened.

"Fine Harry. I won't tell Sirius -"

"Thank you!"

"But," he said firmly, "this isn't over. You and I need to figure out what's going on here. As I said, the visions a boggart sends aren't prophetic, but you've been known to predict things before. It's possible your subconscious is warning you about some upcoming event. If so, Mr. Malfoy's life could be in danger. Here, take this," he said, rummaging through a stack of books and handing one to Harry. Harry took it and nodded quietly, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to discuss this matter further with Remus.

"Alright," said Remus. "You can go. But Harry -" he said, as the boy jumped off the desk and headed for the door. Harry turned over his shoulder to look at him. "Be careful. And keep your guard up until we figure this out."

"Alright Remus," said Harry, opening the door.

"One more thing Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't tell Mr. Malfoy about this little... erm... incident. I'm not sure he'd take it at all well."

"Oh, there are no worries about that Remus, trust me," Harry said wryly.

"Right. But you may want to keep any eye on him. Just in case." Remus gave him a significant look which Harry couldn't quite read. He decided not to think about it anymore and headed out the door and towards his room, trying desperately to shake his disturbing vision.

***

Harry found Draco in the common room, sitting on the floor, staring placidly into the fire. Firelight reflected in his hair, bouncing crimson and gold hues among the silvery strands. Harry felt a jolt somewhere in the region of his stomach, looking at the boy so calm and unaware. Feeling as though he was intruding, Harry made for the door to the bedroom.

"How did your lesson go?" came Draco's voice, soft and without it's typical malice.

"Um, fine," Harry said, surprised. "Just fine. And yours?" He turned towards the boy, and found him still staring unblinking into the fire.

"Good," Draco mumbled. "I worked with McGonagall today."

"Oh. Well... that's nice," Harry said, caught off guard by Draco's lack of spite and sarcasm. He hesitated for a moment, and then moved to sit on the arm of the couch, above Draco. "How was McGonagall?"

"She's really a great professor. I gave her such a hard time all those years. It's no wonder I thought she was a hateful old bat - I never gave her any reason to treat me otherwise." Harry didn't know what to make of this sudden honesty, particularly when Draco had been avoiding him like the plague since their return from Hogsmeade, so he simply remained silent.

"I'm going to Malfoy Manor tomorrow, to spy on my father," Draco said with quiet simplicity. Harry nearly fell off the sofa.

"No!" he shouted, sounding panicky. Draco finally removed his eyes from the flames to look at him questioningly.

"Why not?"

Harry sputtered. He didn't know what to say. He certainly wasn't about to tell Draco what he had seen. "Well... I just meant... what I mean to say is... it's awfully dangerous isn't it?" he stammered. Draco raised his perfect eyebrows.

"Well, yes I suppose so. But I'll be going as the cat, so -"

"What if he recognizes you from Hogsmeade?"

"Trust me Potter, my father is not that observant. Particularly when it comes to house pets. No, he'll think I'm one of the strays who wander around the guest cottage. I'm sure it will be fine."

"But what if it isn't?" Harry whispered, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. What if my vision comes true tomorrow? What if you die? What if I never get to tell you - tell you what?

"Why are you acting like such a girl, Potter?" asked Draco, back to his typical lazy drawl. He stood up from the floor and stretched, looking more than anything like a pale, silver cat. How fitting, thought Harry. "I thought you Gryffindorks were all so brave?" Smirking slightly, he walked into the bedroom. Harry followed close behind. "I'm going to take a nap before dinner," he said, to no one in particular. Harry nodded, but he doubted the other boy saw him.

Draco pulled off his shirt and flung it towards a chair. Before it had landed, Draco quickly hurled a spell at it, so that it drifted neatly to the chair's cushion, perfectly folded. Throwing a quick grin at Harry - Show off, he thought - Draco hopped into his bed and rolled over, leaving the curtains open. Harry was left standing purposeless in the middle of the room. He stood there, feeling lost for a moment, and finally grabbed the book Remus had given him and sat down in the chair opposite the one Draco's shirt was now lying on.

After ten minutes of reading, "Boggarts, being asexual creatures, feed on human fear until they are approximately twice their original size. They then divide, forming two twin boggarts, born of pure fear," over and over without retaining any of it, Harry threw the book down disgustedly. Standing up abruptly, he moved to the other side of the room, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste. Feeling frustrated and cooped up, Harry began to pace the length of the room, at times muttering angrily to himself. His thoughts and emotions were in turmoil, and he couldn't begin to work them out. What I need, he thought, is to fly. Everything makes sense when I'm flying. He walked to the window and looked out over the mountains, where the sun was beginning to set in a frenzy of pink and orange. Slamming a fist against the window, Harry yelped in pain.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," came an annoyed voice from the large bed. Harry jumped and then nursed his injured hand. "How did Weasley ever sleep in a room with you all those years?" Harry shot him a nasty look, which Draco returned. "Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't be able to sleep for all the racket you're making." Harry sat down on his bed, sulking. "So what's your deal Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry snapped, prodding his hand, which was beginning to bruise from its encounter with the window. Draco got out of bed and moved toward him, grabbing his wand from the nightstand. He sat down on the bed beside Harry, surprising him. Suddenly, Harry was all too aware of the almost naked body next to him, Draco's chest rising and falling softly with each breath. Staring resolutely into his lap, Harry tried to edge away, but only succeeded in bouncing the mattress up and down a few times. Draco reached out and took Harry's hand, and though Harry tried to wrench it away, the boy had him firmly in his grip.

Looking intently at the purplish bruise on the side of Harry's hand, Draco tapped it with his wand and muttered the same spell Hermione had used on Neville that day on the train. Immediately, Harry noticed the pain was gone. The bruise had faded to a yellowish color, and was quickly turning to pink. In another moment, it was no longer noticeable. "There," said Draco, dropping Harry's hand unceremoniously back into his lap. "Now I won't have to listen to you whine about it." His words were harsh, but a smile tugged at his lips. Harry found himself momentarily entranced by that mysterious half-smile. It seemed so real - so Draco.

"So, wonder boy, care to tell me what all the angst is about?"

Harry rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but then opened his mouth to speak. "I just hate being cooped up in here like a -" He stopped abruptly, a thought forming in his mind.

"What?" Malfoy prodded, looking confused.

"Malfoy, what do you say to a game of one-on-one Quidditch, tonight after dinner?" His green eyes now had a mischievous glow, and a smile played upon his lips. Draco looked intrigued, but wary.

"You know McGonagall would kill us if she caught us," he said, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye.

"Who says she'll catch us?" Harry said, grinning broadly now. "Come on Malfoy, it'll be an opportunity for you to prove you aren't a totally worthless asset to the Slytherin team." Before he could say anything else, Harry felt the breath knocked out of him by a large feather pillow from his bed. He grabbed for the pillow, which Draco was still holding, and shoved him back on the bed, his eyes dancing. "Not up to the challenge Malfoy?" he said breathlessly. He wasn't sure if his lack of oxygen was due to the recent pillow attack, or the nearness of Draco's slightly open mouth, but he didn't stop to ponder it.

Draco pushed against Harry, sitting up quickly. He was breathing heavily, but there was a faint smile on his lips, and he made no move to put any distance between them. "What about the rules?" he said quietly.

"I thought Malfoys were above rules?" Harry said, lifting an eyebrow. This won a genuine laugh from the other boy.

"And I thought you were the golden boy," he said, looking at Harry curiously.

"Well," said Harry, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, "I guess we both have some preconceived notions we need to clear up." He moved his face imperceptibly toward Draco's. The other boy didn't flinch. If anything, he inclined his head closer to Harry's, so that all Harry could see were his large, luminous eyes. His pupils were dilated so much that only a thin ring of gray was visible around inky black pools. Harry's hands closed over Draco's, which were still clenched around the pillow. He tensed for a minute, but then relaxed, releasing the pillow.

Harry, seeing his chance, grabbed the pillow and thrust it in Draco's face, who was screaming muffled obscenities into it, and pushed him down into the mattress. Harry laughed and removed the pillow, laying back on the bed beside Draco.

"That was so wrong," Draco said next to him, in a small voice. Harry glanced over at him, and saw that he was laughing silently. There was a vague look of disappointment in his eyes, which were beginning to return to normal, but Harry chose to ignore it.

"So, what do you say? Meet me tonight, on the pitch?"

Draco stood from the bed, trying to regain his composure, and stalked over to the chair, trying to put his shirt on with some dignity. Unfortunately, it got caught on his arm, and it took him a few tries to get it on. Harry snickered, but quickly stopped and gave Draco an innocent smile in return for the glare the other boy sent him. "I'll see you there, Potter." Draco said, heading for the door. "Be ready to see how a real Seeker plays."

"Oh, I'll be ready Malfoy. I'll be ready." Harry sat on the bed for a moment, feeling happier than he had in days, and then quickly followed Draco down to the Great Hall for dinner.

***

At nine p.m, just after dinner, Harry told Hermione and Neville he wasn't feeling well and was heading to bed early. He went into his room and grabbed the invisibility cloak from his trunk. There was no sign of Malfoy, so he left the room quietly and headed down to the Quidditch pitch, slipping silently through the front doors of the castle.

Ten minutes later, a breathless Malfoy appeared from the changing rooms, running a hand through his blonde hair. Harry, still hidden by the invisibility cloak, watched him for a moment, admiring the way the moonlight seemed to radiate around him, giving him an ethereal glow. The boy glanced around, a frown creasing his forehead, and Harry let the cloak drop from around him.

"'Evening Malfoy," he said, causing the other boy to jump. "Lovely night for a game of Quidditch, isn't it?"

"Indeed," said Draco, looking him up and down. "Would it have killed you to share the invisibility cloak?" Harry smiled, but said nothing. "Never mind, I'm resourceful enough to have found my own way here. So, what are we waiting for?"

Draco was carrying his new Nimbus 3000 over his shoulder. He flipped it over and mounted it, eyeing Harry's Firebolt, which was clutched tightly in the boy's hand. He mounted his broom also, and dug into his pocket for the snitch he had kept as a souvenir from his last Quidditch game. "Ready?" he said, staring intently at Draco.

Steely gray eyes met his, and Draco nodded. Harry produced the snitch, held it up for Draco's inspection, then flung it into the air. Immediately, it unfurled its delicate silver wings and darted away, out of sight. The two boys kicked off the ground and sped into air, heading in opposite directions.

The first catch was pure luck. Draco was taunting Harry from the other end of the field, daring Harry into a dive. Never one to pass up a challenge, Harry performed the difficult dive, yet another one similar to the Wronski feint, perfected by Quidditch star Victor Krum, flawlessly. As he neared the ground, he felt something hard hit him in the arm. The snitch had flown up his sleeve and was now beating its wings against the inside of his robes. Harry grinned and pulled the snitch out, holding it up triumphantly to a scowling Draco.

The second time, Draco spotted the snitch first, but Harry was closer. As the Slytherin began to speed after it, a blur of jet black and silver against the night sky, Harry maneuvered after it, relishing the feel of the wind as it bit into his skin. In his euphoric state, he barely even realized he had caught the snitch, until he heard Draco swearing spiritedly. Giving him a smile, Harry released the snitch one more time.

The third time, Draco should have had it. He was closer, faster, and he was flying better. Harry, on the other end of the pitch, knew there was no way he would make it to the snitch in time to beat Draco, but he flew for it anyway, the moon shining behind him. Draco, lying flat against his broom, arm outstretched, fingers almost brushing the snitch, glanced up at Harry, and made his fatal error. Seeing the boy flying towards him, silhouetted darkly against the glow of the moon, Draco faltered. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Harry's shadowed face, and in his moment of hesitation, Harry whipped past him, plucking the snitch effortlessly from the air.

The fourth time, both boys were beginning to tire. But Draco, being the stubborn git that he was, was not going to give up until he had the snitch. They spotted the golden glint at the same time, and fell into a dive, plummeting toward the ground. Harry's hand was close enough to grab the snitch, but he fell back just a bit, and Draco reached for it, setting down gracefully on the ground. Harry soon touched down behind him.

"I caught it," he breathed, looking at Harry's with those enormous eyes. Harry grinned broadly, nodding. "I really caught it. I beat Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lets Other Boys Win Because He Feels Sorry For Them." Giving Harry a bitter look, Draco tossed the snitch at him and turned on his heel.

"Draco! Wait!" Harry ran to catch up him, and almost ran into him as the boy wheeled around.

"I do not take charity, Potter," he said through clenched teeth. "If I catch the damn thing, it will be on my own merit, understand?" Harry nodded, eyes wide. "Okay. Go on then, let it go." Harry, not wanting to disobey Draco when he was this angry, tossed the snitch into the air and watched it zoom away. Both boys mounted their brooms and were off in a heartbeat.

It was neck and neck from the start, with plenty of false alarms. Each boy spotted the snitch several times, but each time it darted away before they could get close. Draco, as tired as he was, was putting every ounce of energy into this game. Harry was beginning to think they would be there until morning, when he caught a glimpse of a golden shimmer just beyond Draco's broom. Harry zipped off, whipping past Draco in a matter of seconds. Draco, immediately knowing Harry had spotted the snitch, turned and was behind him in a flash, catching up with him and staying in hot pursuit. Harry expected Draco to try to knock him off his broom, as he had at so many other matches, but apparently Draco wanted to play this game fair and square. The two of them dipped down, following the path of the snitch, their arms reaching out ahead of them, Draco's graceful fingers stretching just a bit beyond Harry's. Harry urged his broom forward, but it was too late. Draco had closed his hand around the snitch. At the same moment, their brooms became entangled, sending both boys hurtling to the ground, which was thankfully only a few feet below them.

Landing on top of Draco, Harry pushed himself up, looking worriedly into the other boy's face. "Draco?" he whispered, praying his eyes would open. Draco made no move, but his mouth opened slightly. Harry thought he was saying his name, and he leaned down, putting his ear closer to Draco's lips.

"Would you mind getting the hell off me?" he said, in typical Draco fashion. "I can't breathe."

Harry rolled off of him, but remained lying in the grass next to him. Draco opened his eyes cautiously and opened his hand, keeping two fingers clutched around the snitch. He looked bewildered, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"You did it," Harry said, out of breath himself. He wasn't sure how he felt. It was the first time he'd been beaten fairly, and while he was happy for Draco, he couldn't help feeling a bit upset with himself. Until he saw the look of utter joy on Draco's face as he stared at the snitch. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Harry closed his hand around Draco's, allowing it to linger for a moment before taking the snitch and thrusting it back in his pocket. Draco turned and smiled at him, leaning on his elbow and propping his head up on his hand.

Harry felt his heart thud erratically in his chest as Draco continued to smile at him. The effect the boy was having on him was completely terrifying, but something inside Harry didn't want it to stop. He felt like he should say something, but he didn't want to ruin the moment, so he kept quiet. Instead, he opted to run one shaky finger along Draco's cheek, watching, detached, as it progressed along the smooth skin, as though he couldn't control its movement. Draco grabbed his hand, and Harry froze, berating himself for doing something so stupid. Of course, Draco would think he was completely bonkers and probably never speak to him again. And just when Harry had been so sure they had a chance at friendship. But, to Harry's confusion - and delight? - Draco flattened Harry's palm against his cheek, turning his face into Harry's warm flesh and planting a soft kiss on the most sensitive part of his hand.

Harry gasped at the sensation, and Draco took this as permission to further the touch. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the lines of Harry's palm, eliciting a sharp sigh from the other boy. Harry, who was slowly being driven mad by Draco's touch, scooted closer, so that his chest was nearly touching Draco's. He nudged Draco's thigh with his knee, and the boy lifted his leg and placed it over Harry's, pulling him closer. Harry took his hand away from Draco's teasing mouth and ran it down his chest toward the flat planes of his stomach, delighting in Draco's hitched breathing, which he could feel beneath his robes.

Harry gazed directly into Draco's eyes, searching for any sign that this was a joke, that Draco would suddenly start looking at him spitefully, and laugh at his stupidity. He saw nothing but honest wonder and the same shadowy desire he knew was reflected in his own eyes. Harry, whose teenage hormones had officially kicked in, pressed his feverish lips eagerly against Draco's, leaving them both breathless. Harry pulled away and waited, smiling at the stunned look on Draco's face. Once he felt the boy's heartbeat against his chest return to normal, he leaned in again, making this kiss slower and deeper. He took his time, exploring every inch of Draco's mouth, learning what the other boy liked by responding to his gasps and sighs. Draco, for his part, had his long fingers tangled in Harry's hair, tugging softly at it. Harry was sure he had never felt anything more wonderful. Draco's leg moved next to his, rubbing against his calf. The combination of this movement, along with the gentle tugs at his scalp, sent shivers all the way through Harry's body.

He pulled away suddenly, leaning back to look into Draco's face. Draco, breathing heavily, gave him a small smile. Harry was suddenly struck with a memory - that same soft smile, those eyes shining with emotion - Draco looked exactly the way he had during Harry's first encounter with the boggart.

Harry scrambled up into a seated position, backing quickly away from Draco. If his first vision had come true, what did that mean for the second one? The image of Draco, cold and lifeless, invaded Harry's mind, and he couldn't shake it. He looked at the real Draco, eyes wide and frightened.

"What is it?" Draco asked in a throaty voice. He was still overcome with emotion, and worried about the look on Harry's face. Harry shook his head wildly, trying to rid himself of the vision. Draco sat up and scooted close to him, taking Harry's bigger hands in his own. "Harry?" he said tentatively. Harry threw his arms around the boy, clutching him desperately, pressing his face into Draco's shoulder. Draco held him, rocking gently back and forth. "It's okay, Harry. Whatever it is, it'll be okay."

***

Hours later, Harry sat in the same spot, Draco's head in his lap. He toyed carelessly with random strands of silver-blonde hair, gazing up into the night sky. He had quickly regained his composure, apologizing to Draco for losing his cool. Draco didn't press anything, but Harry could tell he had questions. He knew there would come a time when they had to talk about it, but for now, Harry was loathe to ruin the moment. They had been talking contentedly for some time now, and Harry was pleased to find Draco could carry on a decent conversation, when he felt like it.

"I've been wondering," Harry said, picking a blade of grass from Draco's hair and tickling his nose with it, "the other day in the alley, when your father almost caught us - how did he not see me? I know you had transformed, but all I had to disguise me was some smelly trash."

Draco smiled, blowing the blade of grass away from his nose. "Think, Harry. Was the trash the only thing disguising you?"

Harry bit his lip, thinking. Draco found it rather adorable. "No. I mean, I was wearing clothing of course. You had thrown your cloak over me... wait. Your cloak. Is there something special about it? It isn't an invisibility cloak is it?"

Draco grinned. "No, it isn't an invisibility cloak. It's called a Cloak of Shadows. They're very rare. My grandpa brought it back to me from India, and he made me promise never to show my father. It sort of turns the wearer into a human chameleon, allowing him to blend in with his surroundings. It actually bewitches whoever looks at it to think that you are whatever you want them to believe."

"So when your father saw me wearing it..."

"He saw a gray lump surrounded by trash. But all his mind registered was the trash. To him, you became a part of your surroundings. He was tricked into thinking he saw something he didn't. He saw a pile of trash, and suddenly felt the need to turn and walk out of the alley."

"So it's kind of like the Force?" Harry asked. Draco, having never seen a Muggle film, looked at him confused. "Never mind But Draco, this is really cool. These could help us out when the war starts."

"I know," Draco said nodding. "I've already talked to McGonagall about it, but she seemed hesitant to mention it to Dumbledore. You see, the Cloak of Shadows contains a wee bit of dark magic..."

"Leave it to you, Draco," said Harry, but he was smiling.

"But I still think we could use them! I know the man my grandpa got mine from, and I'm sure I could contact him, and try to get more. My father's never even heard of one before, and I'm sure You-know-who doesn't have any. It could be our secret defense."

"Well, it sure sounds good to me. We'll have to go to Dumbledore -" Just then branch snapped and the boys knew they were not alone. Draco's frightened gray eyes looked up into Harry's green ones, and he sat up quickly, looking around. The two of them drew out their wands and slowly stood up. Just then, a figure stepped onto the pitch.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter!" The boys sighed in relief at Professor McGonagall's voice, until she began yelling at them. They didn't understand much of what she was shrieking, but they caught enough bits and pieces to know that they were in trouble, and if Voldemort and the war didn't kill them, Minerva McGonagall would.