White Horses

HARRY ARRIVED BACK IN THE Gryffindor common room just in time to see his mate Ron coming down the wrong staircase. It wasn't the staircase that lead to the girls' dormitory (that was nearly impossible), but it certainly didn't lead to the boys' dorms either.

"Ron!" he exclaimed, "Where are you coming from?"

His friend jumped violently and slid down the last couple steps, landing hard on his rump. Harry pulled off the Invisibility cloak that he had forgotten about and that seemed to help things.

"Harry! Oh, I was... er... well," the ginger boy grinned up at his friend and confided, "you see, Head Girl has her own room..."

Mentally kicking himself for his hypocrisy, Harry said in a shocked voiced, "You didn't!"

Appropriately for a Gryffindor, Harry's friend was embarrassed and flustered as he denied any such accusations, "No, no! Not that."

The green eyes were wary as Harry contemplated the conversation that he really didn't want to have with Ron. But Hermione was his best friend, too, and he would do it for her sake.

"Ron, if you do ever... do anything... you would be safe, right?" His friend seemed to be at a loss for words as his face and hair warred over who could burn more brightly. Harry continued, "Because Hermione is still my best friend, even if she's your girlfriend. She's an amazing woman and she is really going to go far, so she doesn't need her life mucked up by something like, like... an unwanted pregnancy."

Ron, though he was mortified to an extent he hadn't even thought was possible to live through, had caught onto that 'unwanted.' He asked Harry unsurely, "You don't think she would want... me?"

Rolling his eyes, the Boy Who Lived's voice was dripping sarcasm as he reassured the other boy, "I'm sure she's just jumping at the chance to have her own herd of Weasleys. But not when she's only eighteen, you prat!"

The redhead frowned at him and said sulkily, "You spend too much time with Malfoy; you even sound like him." But it was measure for measure, so as a bit of payback for his embarrassment, Ron challenged the dark boy, "And what about Malfoy, hmm? Would you use protection?"

As turnabout, it worked rather well and Harry's face was quickly suffused with that warm glow as he thought about the night before. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, "Well, Ron, I have a boyfriend, in case it slipped your notice. Pregnancy isn't such an issue between us."

Ron couldn't deny that one but he did manage to add, "Still! You could get one of those TNTs."

Harry rolled his eyes as he helped his friend up, though the thought hadn't actually occurred to him before, "They're called 'STDs,' Ron. TNT is a type of bomb."

Willing to let the embarrassing sex questions go for now, they made it all the way up to the boys' seventh dorm before Ron remembered, "Hey, where have you been all night?"

Shit.

Draco's unnaturally white hair was still damp as he came up to the common room. Thank the gods for private bathrooms. He was back in his regular school uniform and fine black robes. It was so bizarre to him, to be in those familiar clothes and back in the Slytherin dorm. It seemed literally like decades since he had been the boy who had lorded here. He could barely connect himself to that young kid who had once swaggered through these caverns, no concern bigger than pleasing his father and humiliating Harry Potter. But he wasn't going to be able to just fall back into that role, even if he had wanted to - and the others certainly weren't about to let him either. Something needed to be done about Slytherin house.

He noticed the hatred and resentment on many of the uppers' faces, particularly the seventh year students'. Draco was able to delude himself for a moment that it was just left over from the drama of the last year and Blaise's coup. But then he caught sight of Pansy Parkinson's gloating expression. Though he'd known that she'd gotten out of the Malfoy dungeons, he had been hoping that she would fear him enough to not say anything. Had she really told the others that he had been the one to kill all the Death Eaters? A rigid new cold crept through his body, sucking out the warm afterglow that had been left by Harry. Frowning at the Slytherin girl in passing, he led the new students up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione was up by the staff table when she saw Malfoy lead his students in. She waved him over and as soon as the nervous new students were settled the Head Boy strode over to join her, his long legs eating up the wide floor of the Great Hall in just moments. When the sharp ringing of his boot falls began to fade, he stood in front of her as if a stranger. His face and voice were both cool as he asked brusquely, "What is it, Granger?"

Handing over a sheaf of parchments, she only had time to say, "These are the Slytherin timetables-" before he nodded and walked stiffly away, clutching the papers tightly. All his usual grace was gone and for some reason, within 24 hours of returning to their world, Harry's boyfriend had retreated back into that unfeeling shell. What was going on?

THE HEAD GIRL STILL HADN'T said anything to the other members of the Trio about Malfoy's odd behaviour when they were heading down to the dungeons. Ron was bemoaning their fate loudly, "Potions! N.E.W.T. Potions on the first day back! And of course it would be with the Slytherins."

Harry added equivocally, "The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws will also be there, just like last year."

Ron raised his ginger eyebrows and said archly, "And why do I think it is neither a Hufflepuff nor a Ravenclaw that you are so eager to see?"

Harry was trying to hide his excitement at getting to see Malfoy again so soon (not very successfully) as he shrugged, "Well, since you and Hermione are always partners, I guess I'll have to fine someone to work with."

Ron laughed disbelievingly and it was no surprise to anyone in the Trio when Harry immediately sought his boyfriend out in the Potions classroom. The boy was sitting alone at a desk and staring abstractly into space when Harry sidled up to him and, seeing his distracted state, said lightly, "Hey, Malfoy. You planning on actually doing anything today, or just staring off at nothing while I do all the work?"

Harry thought he saw something move behind that blank mask, but the Slytherin's voice was almost toneless as he replied, "I'll do my share of the work, Potter."

Blinking at this radical shift in the boy's attitude, Harry asked quietly, "Malfoy, you all right?"

The blonde pulled himself together and even managed a weak smirk, "Oh, just Head Boy duties and all. Nothing you could understand." Harry laughed sarcastically and felt comfortable enough to at least sit down next to the boy, now. But Draco slid almost completely back into his shell and was subdued for the entire lesson, leaving Harry wondering if something really was wrong.

They were over three-quarters the way through their invisibility potion when things went wrong. Draco was listlessly stirring the potion, though he didn't seem present at all. Harry wasn't concerned about the brew at least, since it was one he had learned from Snape the year before. He was also lost in thought, worrying about the boy next to him, when something bright and blue flew before his eyes. He recognized it an instant before it landed in their cauldron; after all, he had used the same prank himself once. It was a Filibusters No-Heat Wet-Start firecracker, and as soon as it plopped into the thick brew, Harry exclaimed, "Malfoy, watch it!"

The cauldron started spewing blue sparks and globs of potion everywhere within a five foot radius and the boys (and their neighbours) quickly back away. The room was filled with the echoing shrill squeals and loud pops of the firecracker until it thankfully died about a minute later. Harry and Draco had been the worst hit, but luckily the incomplete potion didn't seem to be causing any ill-effects. Then Snape bore down on them like the spectre of Death himself.

"What is wrong with you two?" His eyes glittered angrily as his lank hair fell over his face, spitting out, "Potter, you have made this potion before many times! Are you just purposefully trying to be stupid to test my patience?"

Harry said honestly, used to the Potion Master's scorn, "Not at all, sir. Something was thrown into our potion-"

Snape waved off his excuses and told the two boys, "Be that as it may, it was your potion that blew up, so you two will be the ones staying after to clean it up." Harry opened his mouth, wanting to protest, but Draco was finally present enough to shake his head discouragingly. There was no arguing with Snape.

They spent the last thirty minutes of class mopping up the mess that their potion had made and trying to scrape the chunks of burnt potion and blackened fireworks from the inside of the cauldron. Finally, the three and a half hour class was over and the rest of the students left for lunch, glad to be free for a whole week from Snape's presence. Unless they were so unfortunate as Harry and Draco, who would have to come back for 'lab' time, to complete their ruined potion.

After the last student had left (which didn't take long in this class), Snape closed the door to the classroom. He turned back to the two boys; Draco was watching him and Potter was dabbing at the stains on his clothes. The professor gave Draco a short nod and the blonde pulled his wand. "Potter, you prat. We can use magic for that." He cast a quick cleaning spell on both of them and they were as pristine as they'd been when they'd arrived in class.

Snape swept back to his desk and said matter-of-factly, "I saw what happened, Malfoy. A Slytherin threw that firework in your cauldron. What's going on?"

Draco finally gave Snape some straight answers, though he hadn't for anyone else, and Harry noticed that the two's seemed to have changed again. Snape no longer seemed hateful toward the student, nor did he favour him as he had when they were children. Now the former Death Eaters seemed to act like equals; two men who weren't sure they liked each other, but knew they were on the same side.

"It seems as though Pansy Parkinson revealed my part in the downfall of the Death Eaters. Many of the Slytherin aren't very pleased with me, knowing that," the Head Boy explained briefly.

Snape looked thoughtful and said, without a trace of his usual bad humour, "No, I don't imagine they would be."

Seeing the lack of malice from the only other ex-Death Eater in the world, Draco dared to ask, "Do you have any advice on how to precede, sir?"

But the Potion Master's response was just what the boy expected: "You have to take care of it yourself, or nothing will change. If I intercede, you will lose all your standing."

Draco accepted this with resignation and Harry did agree to some extent, but as they left the classroom, he couldn't help thinking it would be nice to have a teacher's support nonetheless. He heard Draco sigh next to him and the blonde complained, "This is so frustrating."

Harry smiled sympathetically and ventured, "The problems with the Slytherins?"

He was surprised when Draco laughed dryly, "Well, that, too. I was thinking more about walking next to you in a deserted corridor and still knowing that I shouldn't dare do anything."

Harry searched those silvery eyes before looking hurriedly ahead, with only a hushed and breathy reply of, "Oh."

He had been doing all right, but now Harry was also reminded of the possibilities of the situation. He hadn't felt so desperately the need to touch the other boy, until he had remembered that he couldn't. Draco laughed at the two of them, though not very convincingly, and brushed it off with, "Oh well, we have Friday, right? And then you'll get to hear me whinge on about the Slytherins and their drama." Harry agreed quietly and they parted at the doors to the Great Hall. Neither could help feeling that this day had gone rapidly downhill from when they had woken in bed together that morning.

GIVEN THEIR RATHER MELANCHOLIC PROMISE to see each other on Friday, it was quite a surprise to both to meet in Dumbledore's office the next night. They barely saw each other during the day and never got the chance to talk, so Draco was not at all expecting to see his boyfriend staring stonily at the Headmaster when he was summoned to that high office.

He quickly took his seat next to the Gryffindor and asked, "What's going on?" It seemed like a common question these days, now that Draco was trying to readjust to being back in the Wizarding world, but the Slytherin felt an uncomfortable fear over being summoned here with Harry. Did the staff know about the two of them?

He didn't know whether to be relieved or more alarmed when the old man said, "Mr Malfoy. I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet with the two of you earlier, but I've wanted to discuss the events of last year."

Harry asked sharply, "What's to discuss? It's all over now."

Draco was a bit surprised to hear such a bitter attitude from the Gryffindor, but he wouldn't discredit the boy by showing it. Then Dumbledore said mildly, "There is still the murder of Voldemort and his Death Eaters to discuss," and Draco closed off.

The cold attitude he was projecting should have frozen the old professor solid. Despite how different he looked these days, it was definitely Lucius Malfoy's son who said flatly, "I agree with Potter: there's nothing to discuss."

They both stared at Dumbledore with identical ungiving expressions. The Headmaster was beginning to show his ire as he addressed Harry, "The prophecy-"

"Doesn't mean anything!" Harry finished for him quickly. Malfoy shifted slightly toward the smaller boy in his seat, presenting a solid front. He didn't respond at all to their exclamations, despite never having heard anything about any 'prophecy.'

Dumbledore stared at them wordlessly, before saying placatingly, "We are only trying to confirm that Mr Malfoy orchestrated everything and that he was the one to execute Tom Riddle and his followers." The Slytherin didn't answer, so Harry confirmed it for him. "And should we report that?"

Green eye's flashed to Draco but the Slytherin still wouldn't say anything. Harry said briefly, "No, that wouldn't help things."

Those bright blue eyes were snapping as the headmaster said, "Fine. Then if you would excuse us, Mr Potter - I need to speak with Mr Malfoy in private for a minute."

Neither moved and it seemed Draco had finally found something worth commenting on, when he told the headmaster, "Potter doesn't need to leave."

Losing his patience and cursing the day that he had ever thought involving the infuriating Malfoy boy was a good idea, the old man stood up and strode to the door. He ushered them out as he said shortly, "Fine. Mr Malfoy, I just wanted to inform you in private that your mother has been missing for nearly three months and is now presumed to be dead. Good day."

The two boys had already been on their way out when that bombshell hit and Dumbledore shut the door after them. Draco just kept on walking and so Harry had to step onto the rotating stair after him as he started uncertainly, "Draco..."

The Slytherin didn't turn around so all Harry could see as they rode down was that stiff, slender back. "I've got to be getting back, Harry. I'll see you on Friday, right?" They had reached the corridor and stepped out from behind the phoenix statue. Draco didn't even wait for a response, but walked away, leaving Harry alone in the hall to uncertainly murmur, "Right..."

The Gyrffindor stared after his boyfriend, wondering about this strange behaviour as he stood at the base of Dumbledore's stair. Was it the thought of his mother's possible death that had put Draco in such a rush to be away from him? How must he feel, for the mother who had put him so much?

Harry heard the stair grinding behind him and looked over to see Dumbledore coming down, still looking ruffled. He stood next to Harry and followed the younger man's line of sight, as if he could still see Malfoy striding away. "I must say, Harry; I honestly never expected any of this."

Harry looked up at the old man curiously, until Dumbledore continued, "That young Mr Malfoy would do something good, of his own volition..."

Harry turned furiously away, ignoring the headmaster's authority as he always had as he spat, "Don't talk about things that you know nothing about." Then he left as well, following Draco's path to the school main.

FRIDAY DID COME, AT LONG last, and with it came Malfoy. After not too much persuasion, Harry was sitting at the far end of the Hufflepuff table with Ginny, Luna, Hermione and Ron. It was just like a year ago, and the illusion was completed when Draco arrived and immediately collapsed gratefully into his seat next to Harry. He laid his blonde head on the table and Harry patted him on the back in friendly commiseration, secretly relieved to see the boy acting normal again. The Slytherin rolled his head to the side to say tiredly, "Thirty-nine more weeks."

Ginny laughed at him and said, "Well, that's not too long."

Still looking at Harry, the blonde continued, "Yeah, but then it means only thirty-nine more Friday's like this."

Harry and Draco exchanged silent glances and Ginny mused aloud, "You're right. It almost seems too short when you say it like that." She looked around at all her seventh year friends, and asked the dreaded question of any graduating student: "Do you guys know what you're all doing after?"

Draco finally sat up and looked at her. "After Hogwarts?" he asked thoughtfully. "Before the war ended, it never bore much thinking about." Ron also looked completely lost and Harry was staring up at the dusky sky.

Hermione was the only one to provide any answer: "I'm going to university. Although I don't where yet."

Harry looked over at her, since he was probably the only one who knew about Muggle higher education, "Really? You're going to uni?"

She grinned broadly, "Of course. Would you expect anything else? There is no higher education for magical arts in the UK. If I wanted to continue my education - aside from the apprenticeships available here - there are so-called magical institutes, in Italy and in America."

Those Purebloods in the group didn't entirely follow the conversation, but Ron knew enough to exclaim, "America?"

Hermione made a face like his and said in a slightly embarrassed tone, "Yeah, I know. But there are several 'Muggle' universities that have programs for witches and wizards. And American schools have so much more freedom you know." There were stars in Hermione's eyes as she contemplated the joys of unlimited study. Her voice was dreamy as she said, "Imagine, I could be studying economy at the same time as organic chemistry and international affairs. Anthropology, physics, linguistics, philosophy, ecology, sociology, bio, calculus - all the things that the Wizarding world doesn't even learn about! I could learn everything."

She managed to return slightly to reality, parting from her fantasies of seven-hundred page texts and pulling all-nighters, "It'll be hard, of course, since I don't have a regular education, but I've been keeping up with all my Muggle friends as best I can."

"What!" Harry exclaimed disbelieving, staring at his far-too-academic friend, "You mean you've been keeping up with A-level work at the same time as taking O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. courses and being a prefect? And now, Head Girl?"

Hermione didn't seem to notice his horror and she nodded, saying matter-of-factly, "Of course. I borrow their texts every summer to review what they've learned."

Harry was shocked speechless and the others - though they didn't understand the implications of 'A-levels' - realized that Hermione had done something perfectly Hermione once again. Harry had never even thought about university as anything more than fleeting fantasy. The Dursleys certainly wouldn't have paid for him to go. But he did still have more than half his parents' money, thanks to his frugal paranoia. He wondered if his Muggleborn mother would have wanted him to go to uni.

Plus, I'm only seventeen. The war is over and I'm free now, he thought to himself, questioning the future as he had never dared or been able to do before Voldemort's death, do I really want to go straight back to fighting by joining up as an Auror?

HARRY AND DRACO WERE IN the library later that night, when the Slytherin asked his boyfriend, "Are you seriously considering this?" He only received a blank stare so he repeated forcefully, "This. This university idea of Granger's."

The dark-haired boy chewed on his lip before saying, "I'm not 'seriously' considereing it - but I guess I am considering it."

Pushing his textbook away, Draco propped his elbow on the table, one hand buried in his white hair. "Why?"

The Gryffindor looked around Hogwarts' fine library: it was the most complete collection of knowledge in the Wizarding world, all recorded in well-worn tomes that gleamed in the torchlight. He tried weakly to explain his vague thoughts, "You forget, Malfoy - I'm not like you. I'm not a Pureblood. This isn't my world."

Draco frowned as he protested, "Of course it is, you're a wizard."

Harry looked down at his hands, which hadn't changed that much over the years. They still looked so small and childish to him. "I am a wizard. But I was a Muggle first. I didn't belong in the Dursley's world, so I thought when I started here at Hogwarts that I must belong in the Wizarding world. But I was wrong. I love many of the things about the Wizarding world, but the longer I'm here, the more I think about my Muggle roots. I think the main reason I just assumed that I'll live as a proper wizard is because I have no ties to the Muggle world; no family, or friends. But sometimes I think I miss it, now. I don't think I belong anywhere."

Despite the way they had lived over the summer, Draco couldn't imagine his boyfriend as a Muggle. He was Harry Potter, for god's sake. How could the Boy Who Lived live like a Muggle?

Instead of expressing these doubts though, he said scornfully, "Well, that's because no one else would have you. I guess I'm just stuck with you then." His silvery eyes were unreadable as he said, "We'll just have to find some place to belong." Together. He left the word unspoken, but it hung in the air between them as Harry looked sharply at him. Draco continued to look as unemotional as if he had just pointed out the spot that Harry had on his shirt.

The Gryffindor let his smile grow. He glanced around to be sure that the door was shut to their private study alcove, and then leaned in to give the blonde a short, sweet kiss before he exclaimed, "Now, get back to work! If you can't even pass your bloody sixth form exams to graduate, I'm not sure I'd want to belong to any place that would have you."

After that, they refocused on their studies. Draco had to learn an entire six months of work in the three months before the winter hols, as well as keeping up with his ongoing N.E.W.T. classes. Harry was very glad that the Slytherin - insufferable though he might act at times - was in fact very bright and a very good wizard.

Hermione began to drop in about once every hour to check in on them and their progress. She was proud to see Harry's proficiency and his good humour when dealing with the prickly Slytherin. She was also astounded by how quickly Malfoy was mastering the many new charms and, though Harry had to lead him through a couple of the transfigurations, they were still progressing exponentially faster than the classes had.

Hermione realized for the first time that maybe they had actually worked together and been studied (and not just snogged madly like particularly short-lived rabbits) when Harry had spent so much time with the Slytherin the year before, given their familiar ease with each other's learning styles. But despite their unbelievable pace, Draco seemed to be getting frustrated by his increasing rate of mistakes and so Harry asked mildly, "Hermione, do you think you could get us some coffee? Or anything with caffeine?"

The boys watched as that bushy head left their alcove and then Harry turned on his boyfriend. Draco flinched slightly, half-expecting a lecture like the sort he used to get at home if he couldn't learn something, or some kind of derision from the Boy Who Lived. Instead, Harry pulled the wand out of his tight grip and started to run his thumbs over Draco's palm in soothing circles. "Malfoy, you're doing amazing. This shit took me weeks to learn and you've got it all down in one night. I could see how shocked Hermione was - she might just have her worst rival back."

Draco laughed dryly at that, then Harry hazarded, "But you've got to ask questions if you need me to clarify something. Let's face it, I'm no professor - I've no idea really how to teach this stuff. I know you hate to ask for anything, and with Hermione here you've completely shut down... but we'll only make more mistakes that way."

The blonde looked down at the smaller hands massaging his cramped one and realized how well Harry had played him. The Gryffindor had sent Granger away, knowing that asking Draco something like this in front of an audience would oblige his Malfoy pride to refuse. And the Gryffindor had bunked his criticism in a compliment, all while effacing himself and making sure to distract him physically - since they were both crap at resisting each other's touch.

He smiled at his strangely Slytherin Gryffindor boyfriend and agreed sulkily, "Fine. But we'll make a game of it then. For every question that I have to ask, it means one that you have to answer later. When we're alone."

From where Hermione was standing on the other side of the stacks, she heard her best friend reluctantly agree and say, "Er, I think I'll take a lot more care with explanations then." It was the second time recently that she'd eavesdropped on Harry, though the first time had been an accident.

She had been coming out of her Head Girl room, ready to start the day bright and early in the library, when she'd heard Ron and Harry talking on the stairs below her on Monday morning. Her small (even though he was now taller than her, Harry would always be small in her mind's eye) friend was saying seriously, "...Hermione is still my best friend, even if she's your girlfriend. She's an amazing woman and she is really going to go far, so she doesn't need her life mucked up by something like, like... an unwanted pregnancy."

For a moment, she didn't know whether to be furious or humiliated that her best friends - one of whom happened to be her boyfriend - were discussing her sex life. Then she realized with a shock that Harry was just acting like a protective older brother for her, which was shocking enough considering that they boy didn't even have any siblings himself.

That conversation and now this one with Malfoy - both unthinkingly overheard by Hermione - forced the girl to realize that Harry really was growing up. He had always been such a mature child, but that was just a child playing at being an adult. Now, as she carried a quickly conjured tray of drinks into the room, she saw the boy (and his boyfriend) not as an old friend, but as a stranger might.

Harry was good-looking in an unusual way. It was largely the uniqueness of his features that drew people's attention to him: his wide and unbelievably green eyes, shocking black hair and a fine little face that would make most people describe him as pretty rather than handsome. He sat with a sense of independence and self-controlled defiance, and yet his attachment to the boy in front of him was just as obvious.

Malfoy was just as shocking, in completely opposite ways. His hair was whiter now than even a baby's, a pure sparkling white against his light golden skin. And those eyes, that Hermione could no longer help but think of as wolf eyes once she'd made the analogy, were watching her now with a muted version of Harry's curiosity. Malfoy was also self-contained, but it was a wary containment that allowed him to always play off his opponent's reactions before showing his own.

Hermione placed the tray on the table, realizing that she must have been staring. "A little spell of my own: three scalding hot, triple-shot mochas!" she presented with a flourish, and Draco looked unsurely at the bittersweet smelling drink in front of him.

"What the hell is it?"

Harry shrugged and took a swig, before pulling a face and shuddering, "Oh, good God, that's some caffeine."

Hermione sipped hers, managing not to change expressions at all, and told the Pureblood, "It's a coffee drink. With chocolate and steamed milk. And three shots of espresso, of course, which is believe is rather like super-concentrated coffee." She bared her teeth in a feral grin, "Try it."

The two Muggleborns watched avidly as Draco took a swig like Harry's, never one to be outdone. As soon as he swallowed, his eyes popped wide open and then shut as he started coughing. "People actually drink this stuff? For pleasure?"

They laughed at him and Harry said, "Shut up and drink your coffee, Malfoy." While they alternately savoured and grimaced at their caffeine, Hermione helped by going over the last years Arithmancy with the Slytherin, since Harry didn't have that class. The Boy Who Lived drifted in his coffee haze as they spoke in tongues (actually just the technical jargon of Arithmancy, but there was no difference to him).

After discussing the first three of the ten chapters he'd missed, Draco had had enough of Arithmancy and Hermione's professor-like teaching style. He and Harry spent the last hour going over all the lessons for the past week and reviewing anything Draco might need to now for the next week's assignments as well, since the holes in his knowledge were keeping him from successfully completing his work. Hermione slept on top of the table, defying the effectiveness of her espresso shots, but by two a.m., even the coffee-uninitiated like Harry and Draco were beginning to feel the pull of sleep.

With the aid of a simple Lightening charm, Harry picked up Hermione and the girl curled up in his arms trustingly. He carried her to the Gryffindor dorms, Draco trailing behind with all their books. The Slytherin surprised him by saying "Tigerlily" when they arrive in front of the Fat Lady, and as the portrait swung open, Draco reminded him, "Head Boy gets passwords to all the houses, you know." He actually hadn't known, but he would certainly remember now.

When they carried Hermione up the stairs to her room, she came awake enough to trail her fingers across the heavy oak door and murmur some kind of password under her breath. Draco stayed in the open doorway, watching as Harry carefully laid the girl on the bed, pulling off her shoes before he tucked her in. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and whispered, "Thank you, Hermione. Sleep tight, and don't let the bedbugs bite."

She didn't open her eyes, but the Head Girl was smiling as she mumbled sleepily, "G'night, Harry. Love you." Then the two boys left Hermione to sleep and stood in front of her closed door in the dark Gryffindor Tower.

It was nearly two-thirty and Harry could feel the pain of a headache gnawing at his temples in his fatigue, but he asked, "So, where to?"

Draco could see the boy was fading and said firmly, "I'll take you to your room and then you can get some sleep."

Harry blinked tiredly but was still able to protest, "No, but it's Friday..."

The blonde was smiling slightly. "Potter, you're exhausted; you need to sleep."

He couldn't help biting down a bigger smile when Harry wheedled, "Yeah, but can't I sleep with you?"

Wrapping an arm around the shorter boy's waist, the Slytherin told Harry as he led them out of the Gryffindor dorms, "Now, you know I would never deny you that, Potter."

Harry stumbled a bit as they trekked across the school, his eyes nearly crossed as he tried to force them to focus in a futile attempt to stay awake. He was leaning more of his weight on his boyfriend by now and didn't even notice when Draco said the password to the Slytherin dormitories. The dungeon's common room looked empty and all the fires had been banked for the night, so only the dimmest glow suffused the floor. Draco knew his own House well enough, though, that he and Harry made it down to his room without incident to fall into an exhausted but comforting sleep.

BACK IN THE COMMON ROOM, Pansy followed the path that Malfoy had just taken. She pressed her ear against the Head Boy's door, but couldn't hear anything. She thought to herself, Of course, the filthy perverts probably put up a Silencing spell. Pansy berated herself for not thinking of this ammo earlier. She had been waiting for Malfoy just to deliver the threats that she and the other Death Eaters' children had decided on, but this would be so much better. Summoning several more vials of the invisibility potion she had snuck from class, Pansy waited outside that locked door.

There was never a sound from within, but at around half-seven, the door suddenly swung open and Draco came out of the room. Pansy knew that Potter must still be inside, but she decided that this was still well her best shot. She could take care of Potter, if need be.

She carefully slipped through the door as it fell shut after Malfoy's departure. She found herself in the nice, spacious Head Boy's room. There was an entire wall of artificial windows, covered with sheer white drapes that made the morning light look cool. A large and lavish bed was done up in yards of black silk, and lying peacefully asleep in that rumbled pile of blankets was Harry Potter.

It was disgusting, and it could absolutely destroy Malfoy. But she needed something that could be used as evidence and spread about.

Moving silently across the thick black carpet, she went to check the Head Boy's desk. The drawers slid out smoothly, without a single sound, on perfectly oiled tracks, but there was nothing in them save books and school supplies. Pansy tried the trunk, but it was too heavily warded even for her to break into. She bitterly cursed the Malfoy's Slytherin paranoia - to keep his trunk locked in his own room, against his own lover - but she wasn't willing to leave without something to show. Glancing around the room, she noticed the ragged, broken down box on top of the desk that she had ignored earlier.

Sliding off the books that were stacked atop the small box, Pansy glanced once more at the bed before she tugged the top off. It was full of those strange, still photos that Muggles used - they alone could be considered contraband among the Slytherins - and as she dug through the pictures, she found exactly what she'd been hoping for.

The photo looked like it had been taken during the summer. Malfoy and Potter were walking together through some Muggle town, in the middle of conversation. The two boys were in sharp contrast to the out-of-focus background and their infatuation was as clear to see as their figures. In the photo, Potter was glancing up at the blonde, who had his arm around the Gryffindor's waist and was focussing entirely on the Boy Who Lived. They looked young, attractive, and in love. Perfect.

She shoved the picture down the front of her robe. Looking down at the raggedy box which for some reason was precious to Malfoy she felt her hatred for the boy swell so strongly that for a moment her eyes were blinded by the dancing black of her rage. With a strange sort of glee, she picked up another picture of the Boy Who Lived. She tore it straight through the middle. Then again. And again. She started to shred the rest of the pictures that she'd pulled from the box. Especially any that she found of Potter - those she tore into the tiniest pieces she could without having to use magic. Just as she was getting to the bottom of the box, there was a stir from the bed and she heard a sleepy voice ask, "Malfoy?"

Pansy froze, unsure what to do. Before she could decide on an escape route, Draco came back in through the door with a covered tray. Potter sat up in that sinful bed and the Slytherin girl was shocked and pleased to see the horrible scar on his chest. Wonder if I could get a picture of that? Then the boy turned his fuzzy green eyes to Draco, "I thought I heard someone. Did you just get back?"

Malfoy's posture immediately became wary and he quickly saw the torn up pieces of paper that hadn't been on his desk when he'd left. He tried to feel any extra magical presence in the room, but whoever it was, they weren't strong enough for him to notice - unlike Harry, who stood out to him like a magic beacon.

The Gryffindor scrubbed his hands through his hair then looked up and glanced around. Pansy was horrified to see his eyes - the unnatural green seeming to glow as the irises drowned without a pupil - fix directly on her. "She's standing there, to the right of the chair," the boy told Malfoy, pointing at her.

Before she could pull her horrified eyes from Potter, Draco had leapt across the room at Pansy. He grabbed onto the sneak, his fingers clenched into invisible cloth, and tore the potion from her, just as he had in the Malfoy dungeons. Pansy appeared again, ruffled and glaring up at him as she spat, "Damn you, Malfoy."

He gripped her painfully by the arm and dragged her to the door, slamming her against the solid wood. He hissed furiously, "No, damn you, Parkinson. I thought you would have learned your lesson over the summer, but apparently it didn't stick. So this is your one warning: Don't mess with me or mine. You won't like what happens if you do."

The pug-nosed girl didn't look very intimidated as she glared up at him insolently, and so he told her in a dangerous voice, "Pansy, Pansy. Didn't you wonder what happened to my mother?"

She stared up at him, not having expected to hear this. He let the truth show in his cold eyes, leaving her to imagine the countless horrors he was capable of. He said softly, his mirror-like grey eyes boring into her frightened ones, "She mistreated me as well."

At last Pansy looked suitably frightened and he shoved her out the door. Harry was staring at him from the bed and started out, "Malfoy, you..."

Draco turned to look at him and for an instant only his eyes were still as dark as his thoughts. Then the blonde shook his head and said dismissively, "What? It made a convincing threat."

Harry still looked unnerved as he agreed, "Yeah, convincing..."

Draco kicked off his shoes and crawled back into the bed, still wearing his silk pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Leaving the breakfast he'd collected from kitchens forgotten on the desk, he pulled the slightly resisting Gryffindor against him and soothed the boy, "Come on, Potter. Don't think about Pansy - I'll deal with her later. But we've only had four hours of sleep and that won't do either of us any good." Harry only held onto his reluctance for a moment, then returned his boyfriend's embrace. He felt the adrenaline begin to fade from his body and fell back into an uneasy sleep. The Slytherin stayed awake longer, making plans.

IT WAS ELEVEN BY THE time they both woke up again. Harry was in the bathroom, taking a shower, when Draco lit a fire and quickly cast the spell to summon the Head Girl. "Granger, you there?"

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and into his room, wearing her weekend clothes. He was surprised to see the girl in a short jeans skirt, a wide-necked pink jumper and knee high socks with no shoes - he didn't think he'd seen the girl in anything more colourful or casual than her school uniform in years. She brushed the stray bits of ash off her clothes and asked, "What's going on, Malfoy?"

The Head Boy was sitting on the floor, surrounded by bits of paper and eating from a platter of fresh fruits and croissants that sat next to him. Hermione looked down at the fragments, realizing that they were photos, and squatted down next to her fellow Head as he magically reformed the torn pieces with his new wand. He explained to her how Pansy had snuck in that morning and seen Harry. His face became even more grim as he put together the last few photos.

"Parkinson also went through all my pictures," he explained, "and tore them to pieces. I thought it might have been just to get back at me for... well, for various things. But one picture in particular is gone. A picture of Potter and I, together."

Hermione's face turned red as she struggled not to say anything unforgivably insulting. Instead, she asked in a falsely patient voice, "Are you sure that it's missing?"

She looked down at the stacks of pictures, flipping through them to try and find one of the two boys. Then she began to look more slowly and finally stopped, with a picture of Harry in her hand. The boy in the photo looked lost in thought, not even noticing the camera pointing at him. But it wasn't the same weighty pondering that Hermione was used to seeing in him. His hair was being blown about his face and he looked like he was lost in some pleasant memory, a faint smile teasing his lips but not fully realized, as he dangled his glasses from his loose fingers.

"When you said that Pansy went through 'your' pictures..." she started, looking from the Muggle photographs to the unexpressive blonde, "did you mean that you actually took these?" The boy nodded and Hermione bit her cheek, looking down at the picture of Harry again before continuing her search for the missing incriminating photo. She didn't find it either, but she did think to herself as she waded through the images Malfoy had captured, Perhaps there's even more to him than just being not-evil.

Hermione started to say, "Well, if Pansy does have the photo-" but she was cut off by a yell from the bathroom. She hadn't really paid attention to the muted sound of the shower, until she heard her dear Harry's voice calling out.

Both the Head Girl and Head Boy flushed slightly as they looked at each other and Malfoy excused himself. He hurried into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind him. Hermione stared at that door with wide eyes, able to hear the muffled voices behind it.

"What?" was the first thing she heard, as Malfoy had to exclaim over the loud sound of the water.

The shower was abruptly cut off and she heard her best friend say to the Slytherin, "Lemme use your razor."

Malfoy laughed, surprisingly, and asked, "Since when do you ask before using my things, you prat?"

Insults were exchanged and then Hermione heard Harry again, "So, what is it?"

"What is what?" Malfoy asked, before snickering, "I'm going to laugh at you if you cut yourself, just so you know."

Harry was obviously frowning as he said, "Shut up; as if you even shave, you albino freak - OW! Mother fu-"

The sound of Malfoy's laughter echoed off the tiled walls, and the Gryffindor was protesting, "That doesn't even count as a cut. Shut up. And I was asking why you looked so bloody serious when you came in."

The last tinge of laughter died in Malfoy's voice when he told the other boy, "It looks like Pansy stole the picture that Mrs Margera took of us. You remember the one?"

Apparently he did, because Harry came rushing out of the bathroom even as Draco was exclaiming, 'Harry, wait! Granger's-" But it was too late. Thankfully Harry did at least have a towel slung around his narrow hips, but it did nothing to help hide the scar on his chest, the one he had never told his best friends about. He froze, one hand still clasped to his neck where he had apparently cut himself, and looked absolutely mortified to see Hermione sitting on Draco's floor and staring up at him.

The blonde quickly bundled him back into the bathroom and this time, Hermione could only hear the quiet murmur of soft voices through the thick door. Her mind was still trying to process the rough Dark Mark that she had seen, in the briefest of flashes, cut into her best friend's chest.

Within a couple minutes, Malfoy came out and sat down amid the photos again. He only had time to urgently tell the Head Girl in a soft, unMalfoy voice, "Please don't say anything. You know how Potter hates it when someone makes a fuss."

Then Harry came out of the steamy bathroom as well, this time fully dressed in his jeans and a sombre blue pull-over of Draco's. He stopped in the doorway, unsure of how to move next. His boyfriend patted the spot next to him, and glad for some direction, Harry came and sat closely to the blonde. Sighing at the thought of all the crap he did for Harry, Draco purposefully drew the attention away from the boy by pushing up his sleeves and revealing his own Dark Mark.

"At least we're a matching pair," he said lightly as Hermione's stare was dragged to the faded Mark. She looked up at Malfoy, surprised that he was showing this to her, and he took her stare challengingly. She knew then that he was doing this for Harry and she had to force herself not to glance at her best friend to see how he was reacting to this gesture.

She asked the Slytherin, "Did it hurt?"

The boy didn't show any reaction as he answered her. "Like a bitch. Not just physical pain, but mental and emotional. It's like being raped - the feeling that your body isn't yours any longer, that nothing can be safe and clean again. But it's your soul that's violated and there's nothing you can do to fight it, nothing that ever makes it go away. It was enough to wake me from unconsciousness when they did it."

Hermione was horrified by his description and repeated faintly, "Unconsciousness?"

The Slytherin nodded and rubbed an elegant hand over that disfiguration. He explained, "My mother drugged me and gave me to Voldemort, after beatings and spells didn't convince me to give myself up."

Hermione could say nothing, only watch as the two scarred boys leaned on each other. She wondered dimly how two such fragile people, who had each been through so much, could possibly help each other - let alone how they had saved the Wizarding world. How would they survive it if Pansy really did leak the truth about them?

Even those worries were overshadowed though, by the unthinkable revelation: Malfoy didn't want to be a Death Eater? It wasn't Harry's influence, but Malfoy was good from the start?

'Good' might have been a little too strong, but it was still an earth-shattering idea for the Head Girl.

Malfoy continued with little difficultly, "This doesn't have much to do with Pansy, except perhaps..." He looked at his boyfriend, who had effectively forgotten about his own scar, "does she know about what happened after Christmas?"

When Harry shook his head mutely, Draco gave a brief explanation, with some details Harry hadn't even heard yet: "As you know, I betrayed Potter by giving him a portkey-" Harry protested, but his boyfriend ignored him, "-which he still wears, for some incomprehensible reason." The black-haired boy's hand flew to his neck and Hermione noticed anew the chain that she had gotten used to him wearing last year. That was the portkey?

"So, Harry arrived, I took his gun, and shot Voldemort. Then I cut off the bastard's head, just to make certain he would stay dead. I sent Harry back to Hogwarts because things got a bit more difficult after that. I summoned Voldemort's lieutenants with his own prearranged signal and managed to get all of them with the sword I'd used on the Dark Lord. But when it came to the Death Eaters... there were too many of them."

Malfoy had closed his eyes and seemed to be trapped in the bad memories, his whole body taut though his voice remained carefully blank, "I couldn't get them all, but if I didn't, I knew they would have just gotten free and tried to resurrect Voldemort or start their own regimes. I sealed them all in the house and then Apparated outside myself. I burnt the rest of them alive, trapped in that building."

His audience didn't say anything, though Harry did rub a hand over that stiff back soothingly. Draco spoke, "The long and the short of it, my mother found me - since we were on the Malfoy grounds - and threw me in the oubliette for the next six months or so."

Hermione, being much better read, didn't need to be told what an oubliette was and she gasped, "Six months...!"

Draco nodded and finished, "Yes. On rare occasions she would come... talk to me. And then finally, Potter came."

The Head Girl turned to look at her fellow Gryffindor, exclaiming, "You did?"

But Harry was shaking his head, looking as wide-eyes as her, "No, I never did."

"No, you never did," Malfoy laughed, a bitter sound. "It was Parkinson, she must have been using Polyjuice or something, though Salazar only knows where she could have gotten something of you. I broke her illusion and she told me that my mother had given her permission to 'play' with me, since they knew about my history with Harry. I threw her in the oubliette and managed to escape Malfoy Manor. That's when I went to Surrey. And that's why Pansy hates me even more than the rest of the Death Eaters' children. She's the only one who knew about me and Potter, as far as I know."

The silence reigned for long minutes. Neither of the three teens looked at each other as they absorbed all this. Finally, Harry asked, "So, what do we do about Pansy? What is she going to do with that photo?"

Hermione looked at him with a terrible pity and Draco drew slightly away from his boyfriend, telling him blankly, "Isn't it obvious? I'm sorry to have dragged you into my mess, Harry. Because Pansy is going to out us."