Somnio Salvus

Harry stared incredulously at the door, which had just slammed shut behind the departing Slytherin. He was still gripping his wand so tightly that his fingernails were digging painfully into his palm, but he hardly noticed.

He flung the wand onto his disarrayed bed and set to work picking pillows and assorted clothes off the floor. The conversation played over and over in his head, but he still didn't know what to make of it - there was too much to take in. Draco had confessed to invading his dreams, but he hadn't explained why. Although he did hint that he just couldn't stay away, put in that helpful little voice that lived at the back of Harry's head. Then there was all that nonsense about a plot to abduct him. Harry was sure that if that were true, Dumbledore would have told him. But it wouldn't be the first time Dumbledore kept something important from you, 'for your own good', said the little voice.

He sat down impatiently. On balance, he would sooner trust Dumbledore than Malfoy. But his thoughts kept returning to a conversation from a dream, in which Malfoy had openly condemned Voldemort and everything he stood for, before revealing the depth of his feelings for Harry...

His head was starting to hurt with the effort of trying to understand. He got up and changed into his Quidditch robes. His original plan of working off some excess energy on the Quidditch pitch seemed more appealing than ever.

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

Draco returned to his dorm in a state of emotional devastation. If ever he had toyed with the idea of owning up to Harry about the Somnio Salvus potion, that wasn't the way he had wanted the conversation to go. There had been far too many harsh words and flying pillows for his liking.

He couldn't help feeling that he had made matters worse. Harry was determined to go to Hogsmeade now, just to spite him. Perhaps he wouldn't have gone, if he hadn't said anything.

Draco sprawled face down on his bed with a groan of frustration. Why, oh why didn't I pour that stupid potion away? He might have believed me if he wasn't already furious with me about that...

He buried his face in his pillow and swore softly into it, several times. Then he turned onto his back and sighed deeply. He really was furious. He must hate me for what I did...and there I was beginning to think he liked it...

A picture of an enraged Harry, brandishing his wand like a dagger, appeared in Draco's memory. There had been a moment when he thought he saw a hurt expression flash across Harry's face. It had been right after the explosive rage, and just before the quietly suppressed fury. A tiny flicker of hope softened the guilt that stabbed viciously at Draco's heart. If Harry feels even a little bit hurt or sad about what had happened, then maybe that's a sign that he did want me in his dreams...for a while at least...

Draco allowed himself to be comforted by the thought. Then he jumped up and rummaged in his trunk for his cloak. He still had three hours. There had to be something else he could do to save Harry. He didn't share Dumbledore's optimism that the Aurors in Hogsmeade would be able to stop the abduction, and he certainly didn't like the idea of Harry being used as some kind of live bait in order to catch Voldemort.

It's not as if Voldemort would carry out the abduction himself anyway, thought Draco angrily. It'll be one of his minions...He suppressed the thought that the category included his father, and busied himself with tying his shoelaces. Then he firmly thrust his wand into his belt and swept out, heading for the main gates.

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

After an hour of careering madly around the Quidditch pitch, Harry felt a lot calmer. He ambled back to the Castle, looking forward to a leisurely soak in the bath. His anger with Malfoy had abated somewhat, but he still couldn't get the morning's conversation out of his mind. He was mystified as to the Slytherin's true agenda, but at least he could think about things clearly now, without wanting to throw furniture.

As he walked, he caught sight of Malfoy leaving the Castle and striding purposefully towards the main gates. Harry thought it reassuring that he was alone. If he were really planning something evil for me he'd have those empty-headed sidekicks with him, he observed.

It was getting harder to remain convinced that Malfoy was lying. As Harry climbed the stairs to the portrait hole he remembered that desperate, pleading expression on the Slytherin's face just before he'd sent him packing. Malfoy had tried to deceive him many times before, but Harry had never seen him look so...worried.

He had to admit there was a part of him that wanted to believe Malfoy, because if he was telling the truth then that would mean that he did care for him after all. He decided that he would go to Hogsmeade, just to prove that he had a mind of his own and could look after himself. But he wouldn't stay long, and he wouldn't go to the Three Broomsticks. If nothing happened, he wouldn't look like a fool for listening to Malfoy. If it turned out that there was an abduction plot, he would still be safe.

He allowed himself a brief fantasy about apologising to Malfoy for throwing his bedding at him, and thanking him graciously for the warning. He was just getting to the good part when the portrait swung open and Ron and Hermione emerged. They looked a bit tousled and flushed.

'Oh! Harry, we were just coming to find you...' said Ron, blushing. Hermione smiled and smoothed her hair nervously.

'Sure you were,' grinned Harry. 'Are you going to Hogsmeade?'

'Yeah, umm, are you coming with us?'

'I'm going to have a bath first, you go on ahead and I'll meet you somewhere.'

Harry saw a flicker of shy gratitude as Ron smiled.

'We'll be in Madam Puddifoot's,' said Hermione. 'See you there in a bit.'

Harry watched them scurrying away and grinned. He found it adorable that they thought he didn't know about the two of them. Everybody knew! He'd been a bit hurt at first that they hadn't confided in him, but he soon realised that they were just not ready to talk about their relationship. They'd talk when they were ready. In the meantime he could just be happy for them, and be as helpful as possible whenever Ron came to him in a panic because he thought he'd done something to upset Hermione.

As he ran his bath, he found himself wishing there was someone he could worry about upsetting. Someone he could hide a secret romance with, and get embarrassed about if anyone came close to guessing. Once again Draco Malfoy jumped into his head and he felt his pulse quicken.

He determinedly pushed the Slytherin out of his thoughts and lowered himself into the steaming bath. He helped himself to some Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, which someone had conveniently left next to the taps. Voldemort's forces of darkness might try to kidnap him but that was no reason why he shouldn't look nice.

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

It was nearly one o'clock when Harry finally made his way along the path that led into Hogsmeade. It was a bright, warm day for October and he was feeling remarkably light-hearted considering that his life was supposedly in danger.

As he approached the busy shopping street, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see a girl he didn't recognise running to catch him up. She looked quite young, and definitely wasn't a Gryffindor.

'Hi!' she said brightly. 'You're Harry Potter aren't you? Sorry to bother you, it's my first Hogsmeade weekend and I've managed to lose my friends already. Can you tell me the way to Honeydukes? They said they wanted to go there, that's probably where they are now. I've heard they do really good ice creams. It's quite a warm day isn't it? I really fancy an ice cream...'

The girl stopped talking just long enough for Harry to offer to show her the way to Honeydukes, then she launched into a non-stop stream of chatter that would have sent Colin Creevey running for cover. Harry allowed his mind to wander as they walked, and was only vaguely aware of the girl gabbling away monotonously by his side.

Arriving at Honeydukes, the girl suddenly squealed with delight. 'Ooh! Look, there's a special offer on ice creams. Buy one, get one free! That means I can get one for you, too, for showing me the way...'

Before Harry could tell her that it was quite alright, he didn't really want an ice cream, and he really had to get going, she had dived into the shop. He toyed with the idea of making a run for it while she was occupied. But what's the rush? He pondered. I can't go to the pub. Ron will be only too grateful for as much time alone with Hermione as possible, and I really haven't got anything better to do. Besides, I'm getting hot. Maybe an ice cream isn't such a bad idea...

The sun really was quite strong. Harry squinted against the glare, looking up the street to seek out anyone he knew. He spotted Seamus hanging around Angus Quaff's Grog Shoppe (probably trying to buy Irish Whisky again, thought Harry) and decided to join him as soon as he'd shaken off the annoying third-year.

The girl appeared after a few minutes, brandishing two large multicoloured ice-cream cones. She thrust one at Harry, prattling on about how she didn't know what flavour he'd like so she got a mixture of everything, and they'd run out of nuts so she got chocolate sprinkles but some people are allergic to nuts so it's a good job really because she never thought to ask...

Harry began to wonder if this girl ever stopped for breath. Ignoring the relentless chatter, he took a mouthful of ice cream. The combination of flavours assaulted his taste buds in a startling manner, but at least the coldness was refreshing.

The girl watched him expectantly. Harry realised she was waiting for him to comment, and murmured, 'Mmm...it's good. Thanks.'

She nodded, satisfied. 'Well, I found my friends - they're all in there, buying fudge. I'd better go before I lose them again. I'll see you around I expect.'

Then she was gone.

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

Harry wandered off in relief. He headed for Quaff's but when he arrived, Seamus had disappeared. Harry looked up and down the street, debating whether it was too early to join Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to interrupt anything, but he was getting bored on his own.

He started walking in the direction of Madam Puddifoot's, which he knew would take him directly past the Three Broomsticks. As long as I don't go in, it doesn't matter, he reassured himself, although he felt rather apprehensive as he rounded a corner and the pub came into view ahead of him.

Madam Rosmerta was outside, putting out tables for customers to sit at and enjoy the Autumn sunshine. The notion of an evil plot taking place within seemed more absurd than ever when she started putting up colourful umbrellas, all adorned with cheerful logos recommending 'Murfin's Magical Mind Melter.'

Harry approached slowly, glancing up at the clock outside the Post Office. It was ten to two. He knew that he probably ought to steer clear of the place altogether, but he couldn't resist taking a peek through the large bay window as he passed. The pub was busy, as usual. Students, teachers and villagers packed the bar from wall to wall. After a few moments he laughed at himself, wondering what he had expected. After all, Voldemort would hardly be sitting in the snug, enjoying a pint of mild while he waited.

As he turned to go, something caught his eye in a corner near the door. He peered into the gloom, struggling to make anything out when his eyes were accustomed to the brightness of the street. He could have sworn he'd seen a cloaked figure, lurking in the shadows. But no, that's ridiculous - there's nobody there. He snorted and took a mouthful of ice cream. Malfoy's got me so paranoid I've started seeing Death Eaters in the pub!

He stepped away from the window and nearly walked into Madam Rosmerta.

'Oh! Harry it's you.' She smiled warmly at him. 'Aren't you coming in? Oh, umm, perhaps not. I mean, it's very busy in there.'

Harry noticed that she seemed a bit nervous and kept looking up at the clock.

'I can't. I'm going to meet Ron and Hermione.'

Rosmerta nodded and grinned. 'Of course. Well, would you like a Butterbeer to take with you? I'll get you one, wait right there...'

She disappeared into the pub, leaving Harry wondering why everyone seemed so keen to bestow complimentary refreshments on him.

He glanced anxiously at the clock. Five to two - maybe I ought to get out of here just in case. He looked around. There was no sign of anything unusual. Students ambled past, chattering happily and inspecting their purchases. A few local wizards sat under one of Rosmerta's umbrellas, smoking long-stemmed pipes and watching the world go by. Nobody approached him, or even looked at him as they passed.

Harry was suddenly, inexplicably, very scared. He was relieved when Madam Rosmerta re-appeared, carrying his Butterbeer.

'Here you go, dear,' she said.

Harry would later look back on the events that followed and remember everything in the tiniest detail. Time seemed to slow down as he stepped towards Rosmerta. The sun chose that moment to disappear behind a cloud, and the sounds of chatter from the street faded to a kind of distant hum.

As he reached for the bottle, a black-cloaked figure emerged from the doorway and lunged towards him. Harry turned to Rosmerta for help, and stared at her in bewilderment. Her pleasant, cheery expression had suddenly turned to a horrible, expectant grin. As he watched, her features appeared to shift and alter slightly in front of his eyes. He thought he caught a glimpse of black hair where there was usually bleached blonde, and the wide, sparkly eyes seemed to become dark and heavy-lidded.

He didn't have time to wonder about what that might mean. As his hand was about to close automatically around the bottle, the mysterious cloaked figure pushed him off his feet and seized it away from him.

He landed painfully on his back, and struggled to get up. His heart hammered in his throat as he tried to make sense of what was going on. He looked up from the ground to see the two figures struggling with each other. Rosmerta was shrieking furiously and trying to force her way towards Harry; the black-cloaked figure had a tight grip on her arm and appeared to be trying to smash the bottle against the wall of the pub.

As the Post Office clock began to whirr and click, Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of a face beneath the hood of the black cloak. The glimmer of familiar silver-grey eyes was unmistakable. The moment the first chime echoed ominously through the village, both Madam Rosmerta and Draco Malfoy vanished into thin air, right before his eyes.