The Cloak of Shadows

Harry made his way through the halls, a dazed expression on his face. All around him, witches and wizards milled about, each wearing the same vaguely shocked look. The whispers echoing against the damp stone walls were deafening, and all Harry wanted to do was fall into bed, preferably with Draco in his arms.

After revealing the news of Cornelius Fudge's murder, Dumbledore had told everyone to go to bed. They would need the rest for a long, hard day of preparation for battle. Without Fudge calling the shots, it seemed everyone was looking to Dumbledore to make the decisions. With quiet resignation, he had announced that he saw no other option but to go into active combat against the Death Eaters.

Feeling sick and rather exhausted, Harry trudged up to the suit of armor and muttered the password. Upon entering the room, he could immediately tell that something was amiss. Goyle sat on his bed, looking nervous, while Crabbe and Neville were on either side of the door to the common room, peering in through cracks.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, immediately worried. Neville and Crabbe exchanged looks, both unsure if they should say anything. "Well?" Harry said, impatiently. "Don't just stand there - tell me what's the matter. Is it Draco? Is he okay?" Harry tried to keep the panicky note out of his voice, but it was to no avail. Draco had disappeared from the Great Hall soon after the announcement, and though Harry had tried to catch up with him, he had been detained by Hermione and the Weasleys, who were working on a plan to help Bill.

Neville sighed, and Crabbe looked as though he might throw up. Finally, he turned to Harry and spoke. "He hasn't said a word since dinner, Harry. He's just sitting there, staring at the fire."

"We tried talking to him, but it was like he didn't even hear us," Neville added, looking rather pale. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"No," Harry said. "Not exactly. But I think I have an idea." Pushing Neville aside, Harry opened the door and stepped inside the common room. Sure enough, there sat Draco in front of the fire, staring into the flames as though they held all of life's secrets. He turned back to the boys. "Leave us alone for a bit, will you?" They nodded, and Harry shut the door behind him.

Making his way over to Draco, Harry dropped to the floor beside him, and placed a hand on his arm. To his distress, Draco flinched, pulling his arm out from under Harry's touch. Harry tried not to let the hurt creep into his voice, but his words came out tense and high-pitched, and there was no disguising it.

"Draco? Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." Draco turned glowing silver eyes on him, and Harry caught his breath. Even like this, he was so incredibly beautiful. Draco opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it again, turning back to the fire.

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry," he said, after a long pause.

Harry nodded, staring down at his hands. "I understand. Whenever you're ready to discuss it, I'm here." Harry thought he heard Draco laugh, but he couldn't be sure.

"Right now, all I want to do is go to bed." Draco's voice sounded empty, as though he had no energy left to put into his words. It broke Harry's heart.

"Okay then," Harry said, standing up and holding a hand out to the blonde boy. "Let's go to bed." Draco looked up at him, his eyes flickering with raw emotion for the briefest moment before turning cold.

"I can manage just fine by myself," he snapped, standing and stalking into the bedroom. Harry winced at the harshness of the words, but was a bit relieved to hear some emotion coming from the boy, even if it was anger. Formulating a plan, he followed Draco into the room and walked to the large bed, sitting down on the plush velvet cover.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco asked, as Harry began untying his shoes.

"Getting ready for bed," Harry said innocently.

"I don't suppose you could do that in your own bed?"

"No, I don't suppose I could."

"And why's that?" Draco said, his hands balling into fists, as though it was taking his last ounce of strength to remain calm.

"Because I'm not staying in my bed tonight," Harry replied, as though the answer was obvious.

"What?" Draco said, incredulously.

"You heard me. I'm not sleeping in my bed tonight."

"And where, pray tell, do you expect to sleep?" Draco was practically fuming now. Harry was rather pleased with himself. At least he was getting a reaction from the boy.

"With you." The words hung heavily in the air, seeming to echo in the small room. Draco had turned a very unattractive shade of crimson, and he looked as though he were holding his breath. Harry could see his inward struggle. He knew that whatever Draco had witnessed at the Manor was causing him to pull away from Harry, to ignore him.

And I'll be damned if I make it easy on him,

Harry thought. Striding confidently to the middle of the room where Draco was standing, Harry pulled the boy almost roughly to him, kissing him resolutely on the mouth. Draco tensed, but didn't pull away. Neither did he respond. Harry was disappointed, but he was not so easily deterred. He ran his hands down Draco's arms, allowing them to rest lightly on his waist before running them back up across Draco's stomach and chest. The boy still didn't move, but Harry could feel his sharp intake of breath. He smiled, looking a bit like a predator moving in for the kill, and kissed Draco again, pressing the entire length of his body against Draco's, so that there wasn't an inch of them that wasn't touching.

Something in Draco shattered. The cold exterior slipped away, and he returned to the scared, sweet, caring boy Harry had come to know over the past weeks. He dissolved against Harry, nearly collapsing in his arms.

"Harry, no," he whispered. "We can't -"

"Shh," Harry said, tipping Draco's chin up so he could look in the boy's eyes. "Whatever happened today, it doesn't matter. We'll think about it tomorrow. We have time to deal with everything tomorrow. Tonight is ours. Tonight is about you and I. Please," Harry said, his confidence suddenly stripped away, leaving him sounding young and afraid. "Please, Draco, let's forget about everything that happened tonight - Fudge, the Manor, the war. Let's have just one night that is ours alone."

Draco nodded slightly, his grey eyes hazy with emotion. "Just one night," he whispered. "That's all." He seemed almost to be talking to himself as he said this. "One night couldn't hurt. After that..."

"After that, we'll deal with whatever comes," Harry said, brushing a strand of silky hair out of Draco's face. "Together." Draco shook his head, but allowed Harry to pull him in for another kiss. This time he returned it, leaving Harry breathless with its intensity.

Draco pushed Harry toward the bed, a somewhat desperate look in his eyes. He paused every so often to kiss Harry softly but urgently, and Harry returned the kisses with just as much fervor. When they finally reached the bed, Harry shifted so that Draco was pressed up against the edge of the mattress, and he pushed the other boy down, so that he was sitting in front of him.

"Draco," he said, his breathing irregular, "if this isn't what you want -" but his words were cut off as Draco forcefully pulled him down, sending them both back onto the bed. Any doubts either of them had were long gone, and the only thing that seemed to matter was making one another so delirious with desire that they forgot about what was going on in the world around them.

It was working.

Harry tugged at Draco's shirt, pulling it up above his stomach. "Take it off," he whispered, only too glad to sit back for a moment and watch as the blonde stretched his arms up, removing the shirt in one lithe movement. Harry's eyes were dark with longing as he stared at the half-naked boy before him. Draco was, in Harry's opinion, beyond perfection. His skin was impossibly pale and translucent, and he looked as though he had been hewn from marble. Harry felt his heart race just looking at him. He also felt suddenly insecure about his own body. There was no time to worry about this, however, as Draco had shoved him back against the pillows and was quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Harry gasped at the sensations Draco was causing with the merest brush of his fingers as the shirt slowly came undone. He unconsciously arched his back as Draco moved to the last few buttons, which were situated just above his hips. Draco swore softly, his fingers fumbling in his haste to undo the very last button. Finally, he had it, and he pushed the shirt off Harry's shoulders, sitting back to admire the boy.

Harry, still a bit self-conscious, looked away, a flush creeping into his face. "Don't," he whispered, finding it very difficult to breathe.

"Don't what?" Draco asked, confused.

"Look at me like that. I know I'm not as perfect as you are -" He was stopped by Draco's laughter.

"Merlin, Harry!" Draco said, looking down at him with wondering, lustful eyes. "You don't even get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Harry asked, unsure of what Draco was getting at.

"You are quite possibly the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on, and you don't even have a clue. You don't even realize what you do to me." His voice lowered to a seductive growl. "What you're doing to me right now." Harry flushed even deeper at this, but he didn't flinch from Draco's gaze. Draco pressed himself against Harry, and he no longer needed to question exactly what it was he was supposedly doing to Draco.

Harry was frightened by Draco's sudden intensity, but his own need and desire outweighed his fear, and he found himself reaching down to unbutton Draco's trousers. Shocked at his own boldness, he stopped, thinking that only days ago he would have rather been kissing Madame Hooch than Draco Malfoy. When had things changed so dramatically? And why?

Sensing Harry's hesitation, Draco pulled away a bit, staring deeply into the endless green of his eyes. "Just one night," he whispered, running a hand over Harry's face, hesitating for the briefest moment over his scar. "But Harry, if you don't want this -"

"I want this," Harry said firmly, his eyes speaking volumes more than his words ever could. "I want you." And that was more than enough encouragement for Draco, who felt a hunger deep within him, which he knew without understanding why, only Harry could fill.

Lowering his hands to Harry's pants and slowly tugging at the zipper, Draco gave him one last chance. "Harry, are you sure -"

"God, Draco! Yes!" Harry looked up at him with such desire and longing, and something else Draco couldn't define. He'd never experienced unadulterated emotion like that before. Never known what it was like to give himself fully to someone, and not care that they had the power to complete him, or destroy him.

Grabbing his wand and muttering a hoarse silencing charm over the bed, Draco lowered himself into Harry's waiting arms.

Just one night,

he thought. Just one...

***

"Have our guests arrived, Lucius?" asked Voldemort, his voice saturated with false cheer.

"Yes, my lord, they came during the night."

"And how do they find their accommodations?"

Lucius wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I rather think they haven't found them at all, master. They've congregated in a cave just outside the grounds."

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said, with a smile that was not at all amused. "My brethren are unaccustomed to these opulent surroundings, Lucius. I should think they hardly know what to do with themselves. Nevertheless, we must make them feel at home. How are the preparations for dinner coming along?"

Lucius once again wrinkled his nose. His normally alabaster complexion held a faint tinge of green. "Fine, my lord. Just splendid. I've had Cook send out the dogs. They are ordered to bring back every rat, opossum, and squirrel on the grounds. However, I'm afraid Cook is a bit perplexed as to what to do with them once they're caught."

Voldemort's reptilian eyes widened. "Do? Why Lucius, simply display them on your finest china, and the Anguionae will do the rest." This seemed to distress Lucius, but he said nothing and turned toward the kitchens. "One more thing, Lucius, before you go." Lucius turned back to face his master, making sure his knees were slightly bent, so as not to be taller than him. "I'll need you at Gringott's, tomorrow night."

"Gringott's, my lord?"

"Yes. I assume the first move Dumbledore and his army will make will be to rescue the eldest Weasley boy. From what I've heard, he's sure to bring your son along. I'm hoping we will be able to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak." Saying this, Voldemort's mouth twisted in a decidedly evil grin. Lucius shuddered involuntarily, before bowing and quickly exiting. The father-son reunion his master had planned would surely not be pleasant.

***

Draco awoke early the next morning feeling too-warm and rather sweaty. He struggled out from underneath a soft mass against his chest and sat up, slightly disoriented. His eyes widened when he saw a thatch of raven hair peeking out from under the blankets, and realized it had been Harry's arm that was slung across him.

Folding the covers back gently, so as not to wake the dreamer, Draco watched him for a moment as he slept, breathing peacefully. He looked so young and untouched by the world around him. Draco felt a pang somewhere in the region of his heart when he thought about what he had to do.

"It's for you, Harry," he whispered. "It's all for you." He ran a fingertip softly along Harry's bottom lip, and the sleeping boy sighed contentedly.

Draco slipped noiselessly from the bed, pulling on his robes. Pausing at the door, he turned back to take another look at Harry. "Remember," he said softly, "one night was all I promised you."

Saying this, his eyes hardened, turning the color of slate, and the old, familiar mask fell into place, as though it had never been gone.

***

Harry woke up smiling for the first time since he had arrived at Hogwarts only a few weeks before. He stretched his arms above his head and then reached beside him, to the boy he knew was sleeping there.

Except that he wasn't.

Sitting up quickly, Harry glanced around the room, searching for Draco's blonde head. It was nowhere to be found. Looking up at his clock, Harry saw that it was almost nine.

Well, that explains it,

he thought. Draco probably got up and left early for lessons. Thinking he ought to do the same, Harry dressed quickly and headed downstairs.

All throughout the halls, witches and wizards clustered, dueling each other in preparation for whatever attack Dumbledore was planning. Harry dodged a disarming spell narrowly, and ducked as a tickling charm hurtled over his head.

"Harry!" a voice called out, sounding relieved. Harry turned and saw Remus walking toward him, doing his best to stay out of the line of fire. "I'm glad to see you! I was beginning to wonder -" Remus was, unfortunately, unable to finish his sentence, as a particularly vicious silencing charm came whizzing at him.

"Oh, bollocks," he muttered, just before the charm hit him square in the face and his lips were sealed tightly shut. Harry laughed as Remus rolled his eyes and waited rather impatiently for the offending wizard, a young man Harry recognized as a friend of Oliver Wood, to scramble over and release him from the spell.

Remus sighed, brushing off the boy's apologies, and beckoned for Harry to follow him. "Come on, Harry, let's get out of here before anyone else can hex us." The two of them made a dash for the relative safety of the DADA classroom.

Sirius stood at the head of the class, looking bored out of his skull, a group of witches and wizards in front of him, practicing basic defense spells. When he saw Harry and Remus, he broke into a wide grin. "Harry, thank God you're here! They're all yours, Moony." Giving the put-out werewolf a sly wink, Sirius dragged Harry out of the classroom and into a small office.

It was empty, save for an ancient-looking desk and chair. Atop the desk sat a jar, containing several anxious spiders. Harry felt a sense of foreboding just looking at it.

"What's going on, Sirius?" His godfather grinned at him, but there was something about it that seemed strained.

"Well, Harry. I reckon Dumbledore thinks it's time you learn how to properly cast the Unforgivables."

Harry's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "Wh-what? He can't possibly! But why? Why now?"

"Well, Dumbledore's put a temporary release on the Unforgivables, owing to the war and all. Mind you, not everyone will be learning them. But, Harry, if anyone needs to know how to use them, it's you."

Harry had to admit, this reasoning made sense. But he wondered if he was capable of inflicting the killing curse on another human being.

"Now," said Sirius, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "You've obviously performed the cruciatus curse before... er..." Sirius trailed off, obviously remembering his supposed death, and Harry's pursuit of Bellatrix Lestrange. "But, as I recall," he went on, recovering, "you weren't able to use it to its full power." Harry frowned slightly. It had bought him some time, hadn't it? What else did he need it for?

Sirius went to the jar of spiders, and Harry had a flashback to the imposter Mad-Eye Moody, who had attempted to teach the DADA class about the Unforgivables. Sirius removed one good-sized spider and placed it on the desk. It crouched there, unsure of where to go.

"Well then," said Sirius lightly. "Should we begin with cruciatus?" Harry gaped at his godfather, disbelieving the man could be so glib about the curse that had sent Neville's parents to St. Mungo's.

Sirius sighed, sensing Harry's distress. "Look, Harry. I know this is hard on you, but you need to know how to use these curses. By now, we know that Voldemort is after you, and only you. When it comes down to it, the rest of us won't be able to help you fight him."

Harry shuddered at the truth in these words. He knew Sirius was right, but he didn't know how to muster enough anger to inflict pain on anything, even a spider. Especially not after last night, he thought, his cheeks coloring at the memory.

"All right then," he said, setting his shoulders. "If I have to learn this, let's just get it over with."

"That's my boy," Sirius said with a smile. Harry smiled too, enjoying the rare times Sirius acted parental. "Okay, Harry. You know what to do. Just concentrate and let it rip whenever you're ready. Remember, it's only a spider."

Harry took a breath and pointed his wand at the poor creature, repeating Sirius's last sentence in his head. It's only a spider, it's only a spider, it's only a -

"Crucio," he said, without much conviction. The spider twitched for a moment, then skittered away over the edge of the desk. Harry looked up at Sirius, shrugging slightly.

"That's okay, Harry. You'll improve with practice." Harry wasn't terribly sure this was a skill he wanted to improve much upon. "Let's have another go, shall we?" Harry nodded, and lifted his wand again as Sirius brought another unsuspecting spider out of the jar.

Several hours, and many slightly annoyed spiders later, Harry collapsed in his bed, wishing Draco would return to make everything alright again.

***

Draco came in some time later, going over his plans for the next night in his head. He froze when he saw Harry, curled up at the foot of his bed asleep, a book dangling from his hand.

He had just turned to go when a soft voice murmured, "Hello." Steeling himself for what he was about to do, Draco turned and sent Harry his best glare.

"Well, it looks as though you've been working hard, Potter," he spat, praying that Harry might someday forgive him.

Harry looked up at him, confusion evident in his emerald eyes. "Well, yes, I suppose so," he said slowly. "Erm, what about you? Had a long day?"

"Yes, Potter. Some of us actually have a job to do around here."

"What? What do you mean? Did I do something?"

Draco sent him a withering look. "I think we've just established that you've been doing absolutely nothing, Potter, while the rest of us are working ourselves to death, trying to save your sorry arse."

Harry looked positively stricken, and Draco felt his heart fall into his stomach. Merlin please, please forgive me for this. Please let him know that this is for his own good, that I'm only doing this for him.

"This isn't my fault," Harry said quietly, unsure as to why Draco was so upset.

"Like hell it's not!" the Slytherin shouted, venom dripping from his words. "We wouldn't even be in this mess if you'd never been born!" Even Draco winced as he said this. Harry's wide eyes sparkled with tears, threatening to fall at any moment.

"Draco," he whispered, but he wasn't quick enough. Draco couldn't allow the boy to speak too much, couldn't allow Harry to break down his resolve.

"Let's get one thing straight, shall we?" he snarled. "I've had enough of this familiarity. I'm Malfoy and you're Potter, is that clear?"

"But you're -"

"I'm nothing to you!" Draco's voice cracked, and he halted for a moment, trying to regain his composure. "And you're nothing to me," he added, his voice low and dangerous.

"What about last night?" Harry whispered, the first tear sliding down his cheek, dripping onto his clenched hand.

"Last night should never have happened," Draco hissed, and a change came over Harry. He swiped a hand over his eyes, wiping away any lingering tears, and gazed up at Draco with a look of pure hatred. It was a familiar look, and one Draco had, only a few days ago, thought he would never see again.

"You're right," Harry said, his voice cold and hard. "Last night shouldn't have happened. I was a fool to ever have trusted you." Draco wanted to cry out, wanted to fall to his knees and beg Harry's forgiveness, but he did nothing more than stand there, watching Harry with a cool eye, refusing to give an inch.

"I don't know what the hell I was thinking," Harry muttered, standing up and reaching for his invisibility cloak, which was slung over the edge of his bed, "to imagine that you'd actually changed. You're the same as ever, Malfoy - a selfish, manipulative bastard."

Saying this, Harry brushed past him and out the door, slamming it behind him. Draco's knees gave way and he leaned against the chair, finally allowing all the emotion that had been coursing through him out.

In the other bedroom, Neville swore he heard a ghost wailing plaintively from somewhere inside the castle.

***

Harry ran through the castle, stumbling blindly around corners, not knowing or caring where he was headed. Eventually, he slowed, taking in gulps of air. There was a sharp pain in his side, and he leaned over, trying to ease it.

It was nothing, however, compared with the hollow ache in his chest. He wanted to scream, wanted to hit something, to hurt someone. Anything to make that awful ache go away. Images of Draco, eyes full of loathing and disgust, swam before his eyes. Feeling dizzy and nauseous, Harry supported himself against the wall, leaning his forehead against the cold stone.

After a moment, he slid down to the floor, burying his head in his hands.

Why?

he thought, yanking at his hair. How could he do that to me, after everything that happened between us? After last night...

Harry sucked in a breath, remembering what he and Draco had shared the previous night. Spots of light danced in front of his eyes, and he suddenly found it difficult to breath. Oh God, he thought, I'm hyperventilating. He fought for control, and eventually his heartbeat slowed, and his breathing returned to normal.

The ache was still there, but it was burning now - burning with an anger like Harry had never known. Anger at Draco, at himself for being so naïve, at Dumbledore for forcing them together, at Voldemort for starting the whole damn war, and at the universe for simply existing. He sat there, letting the anger build and build, wondering vaguely where it would all go.

A small, black spider scuttled out from a crack in the wall and ran across Harry's path. Suddenly, Harry knew what to do with the anger.

"Crucio," he hissed, and the spider convulsed, it's legs jerking madly. Harry stared, mesmerized, until the reality of what he was doing sank in. He gasped, lifting the curse, and watched, sickened, as the spider hurried away drunkenly, it's body twitching every so often.

Harry lowered his head to his arms and sobbed.

~~~~~