White Horses

IN RETROSEPCT, IT WAS A bad day. Hell, they had known prospectively that it would be a bad day and all the time it was going on, they were fully cognizant that it was a bad day. Retrospection wasn't helping anyone here, unless they were wishing they could retroactively tear Pansy Parkinson into pieces. But even with magic, there wasn't much they could do about that. (There's never a Time Turner around when you really need one.)

When Hermione, Harry and Draco walked into the Great Hall, there were only about thirty students present but they every one of them managed to stare without restraint. Those who didn't subscribe to the paper had been quickly filled in by their eager neighbours. The only teachers yet present were Professors Vector, who looked highly disapproving; Sprout, who was avoiding looking at her prize Slytherin student; and Snape, who was bearing down on them furiously. The entire hall hushed in preparation, not wanting to miss a word.

"What in Salazar's name is this, Malfoy?" the greasy professor practically spat in the boy's face as he waved the folded newspaper.

Calm and cool, Draco plucked up that flailing paper with a Seeker's ease and looked at the front of it. "Why, I believe it's a newspaper, Professor Snape. The Daily Prophet, in fact." The beady black eyes nearly popped out past his oil-shiny and overlarge nose. Harry felt a rather large twinge of alarm, since the last time he had seen Snape this angry had been thanks to Sirius.

Sirius...

Harry blinked in surprise, momentarily sidetracked from the current disaster by his thoughts, How long has it been since I've thought of him? Is that just life? I supposed it goes on for the living and the dead are left behind...

As if proof for this idea, his morbid thoughts were snapped off when Snape screeched angrily about the rather prominent headline. This time it was Harry's turn to try to expel his eyes from his skull, when he heard his boyfriend say, "Oh, that's all true," before turning to him and saying, "although it's not very flattering, is it, love?"

He exclaimed in horror, "Malfoy!" Even as he was staring into those blankly smiling silver eyes, Harry turned toward the professor, "Sir, I can assure you-"

"No, I can assure you, Mr Potter, that this is the grossest mistake you have made in your illustrious career of screwing up. And you-" he turned furiously on Malfoy, "you are a disgrace to the Slytherin house. Your role as Head Boy is under serious review - and after I was the one to put you there, you smug little faggot."

Hermione gasped at this vicious treatment and started to interject, but she got no chance to when the Potions Master cut her off, "Don't even get me started on you, Granger. Not if you want to at least keep your position." With that, he swept off in a swirl of his bat-like robes.

The Head Girl said in a shocked voice, "He's the one who should be up for review. Imagine - speaking to a student like that!"

But Malfoy just laughed hollowly and told her as he sat down, "Who would write him up? Look at them - they all feel the same way. We might as well have declared ourselves Death Eaters, for all the welcome and support we'll find."

Harry sat down next to the blonde and put a hand on his Marked arm, saying softly, "Hey, let's don't joke about that. You could be taken up by the Wizengamot still, and they are not an understanding lot." His boyfriend looked over at him with those flat eyes and Harry tried to sound light, "I can't have you carted off to prison for saving the world, not after..." He faltered, his composure almost cracking for a moment, then he finished in a forced voice, "...Not now."

Draco nodded, never loosening his cool, blank look. But Harry understood why the boy didn't dare to - when he dared let that mask slip, his emotions were powerful and expressive (as Hermione had learnt that morning), and he couldn't possibly let his worry, pain or shame show in front of their ravenous audience. Certainly not his feelings for the boy in front him, either.

Ron had rushed over from the Gryffindor side of the room as soon as he saw Snape leave them. He slid into the seat across from the boys, hunching into his significantly smaller girlfriend. "What's going on?" he asked earnestly, glancing between the ill-looking former Seekers, "Everyone's talking about you two!"

Hermione slapped down the paper, now well bent and wrinkled thanks to her stressful wringing. When Ron saw the front page, he exclaimed in a rush, "Wank, bugger, shitting, arsehead and hole!"

"Ron!"

Despite her scolding tone, the Head Girl didn't really admonish him though, and Malfoy nodded to the Gryffindor prefect, "I might have to agree for once, Weasel."

They fell into an uneasy silence as more and more students began to arrive and the number of hostile stares increased. An owl swooped down over their end of the table and dropped off a familiar-looking red envelope. Ron had barely pointed it out fearfully, whispering, "It's a Howler..." when several more letters began to arrive. Many were Howlers, others had curses on them that they could feel buzzing malignantly even through their envelopes. The hate-mail kept coming and the first of the Howlers began to smoke dangerously.

Ron glanced seriously at his best mate, remembering clearly the last missive like this they had received. He was privately hoping that none of the angry letters were from his own family, as he said, "Might as well get it over with. Maybe if they all set off at once, they'll drown each other out."

His advice wasn't well-met though, and before any of them could even reach for the letters, Harry had swept them into one large pile in front of himself. As soon as they saw his face, Ron and Hermione became wary. This kind of uncontrollable anger hadn't shown itself for almost two years, not since their fifth year.

Draco had never seen his boyfriend like this - the most angry he had ever seen Harry was when the boy had been faced with the Dark Lord, but that had been a cold hatred. This burning anger was like the fury that Draco himself had elicited in Harry in the past, but it made their fiercest altercations look like minor spats.

He started out in a dispassionate tone (which was fairly diplomatic for him), "Er, Potter-"

Harry turned to him with a slightly mad grin and everyone else started violently when the whole pile of hateful letters disappeared instantly. Hermione was the first to exclaim, "What did you do?"

The Gryffindor boy sounded very self-satisfied as he told them, "I Banished the damned things. To the bottom of the lake."

Hermione blinked and seemed at a loss, while Ron said, "Oh... well, poor Giant squid."

"Malfoy!" They all turned at the strident voice and saw Ginny striding stiffly across the Great Hall. She stopped directly in front of the Slytherin, her red hair crackling with energy and her tall, lithe body thrumming. "How could you break my heart like this? Leading me on all this time! Oh, I'll never love another man!"

For half a beat, Malfoy merely stared at her in surprise as she raised her eyebrows expectantly at him. Then he found his voice, "Oh, Ginevra!"

He laughed as he pulled her down into the seat next to him, "Darling, you will get over me. I know it seems impossible - since I'm the perfect man - but you will find some poor sot eventually. He'll have to be a useless substitute, I know, but I'm afraid I'm off the market."

They were all laughing and it seemed like they might even be able to pass for normal as they piled food onto their plates - until Ginny's current fling came over. Danny de Vere was a Sixth Year Ravenclaw and he was looking mightily displeased as he fixed an accusing glare on his girlfriend. "What are you doing with these freaks, Ginny?"

Draco continued to calmly spread jam on his toast as he said, "Five points from Ravenclaw."

The Ravenclaw's dark complexion grew even duskier as he flushed with anger, spitting, "What did you say, you queer? You think I'm afraid of you?"

Draco licked his knife clean in a move that would have made any mother faint and caused half the girls to swoon - despite their reservations toward the boys. Harry's eyes crossed as he watched and he listened wordlessly as the blonde said, "You ought to be afraid. Queer I may be, but I'm also Head Boy. So, let's make it a round fifteen points then." He bit into his carefully prepared toast.

Danny made a disbelieving sound as he scoffed, "Gin, are you really going to sit with these shirt-lifters?"

He was surprised when her expression became closed and cold. Ginny asked harshly, "Danny, are you really going to act so stupid as a Ravenclaw?"

He spluttered and looked around, all five students at the end of the Hufflepuff looking back at him coolly (except for Draco, who continued to munch on his toast), and said in disgust, "You… fine, you slut. Stay with your freak friends; you're one of them, after all." He turned sharply to walk away and before he had gotten five paces, Ron had leapt after him and spun the Ravenclaw around to punch him hard in the mouth.

As the younger boy doubled over, Ron hauled him upright again to growl, "Don't you dare insult my sister."

Draco had jumped up to pull the ginger boy back and, reaching across the table, grabbed Ron's arm, his thin strength straining against the taller boy. His voice was carefully controlled as he warned the Gryffindor, "Leave off, Weasel. You're a prefect, for Salazar's pity."

De Vere wiped his bloody mouth and asked snidely, "What, Weasley? Are you Malfoy's bitch as well?"

Now Harry stood up stiffly and Ron looked worriedly at his friend's narrow back. Those who were used to the Boy Who Lived recognized the hot power pouring off of him as he turned around to shoot a murderous glare at the Ravenclaw boy. All three boys were prepared to beat de Vere into an unrecognizable mess and Ginny certainly wasn't stepping in as a protective, concerned girlfriend. Hermione was scolding them uselessly when McGonagall stepped in.

The crusty old Scot was frowning darkly as she demanded, "What is going on here?" She looked around at the four boys who were still straining with the urge to inflict bodily harm upon each other. "Five points from each of your houses. Mr de Vere, do go back to your table."

The boy unwisely talked back, snipping at the head of Gryffindor house, "Why should I? They aren't at their tables, either."

Her frown would've frozen hot water as she told him angrily, "They will be coming to my office, and I just want you away from me. Now, go!"

Glowering, the Ravenclaw did as he was told, while the other five students followed the old woman meekly. When they were all ensconced in her barren office (Harry got stuck in the seat right in front of McGonagall's desk, Draco was leaning on the back on his chair, Ron and Hermione seated on one side and standing alone on the right side of the room was Ginny), McGonagall asked again, "What was all that about? I'll not have any of my students fighting - particularly a prefect."

Ron and Malfoy glanced at each other, but it was Hermione who explained responsibly, "Professor, de Vere insulted Ginny's honour and I'm afraid that Ron retaliated. Malfoy, as Head Boy, tried to stop him and then de Vere said... well, he made a rude comment toward the boys and they all got upset."

The explanation didn't do anything to ease that stony expression, and the professor said harshly, "Be that as it may, there is no excuse for fighting. You are in your final year and ought to have learned by now that violence is not the way to resolve a conflict. I would expect wizards who will shortly be free, licensed adults to be able to resolve their arguments in a more civilised manner. I will not tolerate another incident like this."

She looked pointedly at Draco and his arm that was pressed against Harry's shoulders on top of the chair, his knuckles pressed into the boy's shoulder as if it were the only way he dared to get close to Harry. "Did this altercation have anything to do with this morning's paper?"

They all fell into a wary silence, no one sure how to respond. Draco said cagily, "That may have been a contributing factor."

McGonagall snorted and muttered in frustration, "Fine. Run off, you five. I don't have any more problems with you if you keep out of fights. I may not approve of your choices, but you are nearly adults now and your personal lives are just that: personal." They all continued to stare at her disbelievingly until she waved them out. Not a one of them wanted to push their luck and they hurried out of the Gryffindor's office.

OUT IN THE HALLWAY, THE gaggle of Gryffindors (and their token Slytherin) slowly drifted to a stop. Ron looked around at his friends curiously, finally settling on his girlfriend to ask, "What is it?" The girl didn't respond, but looked over at Harry and Draco, who were standing close together, their hunched shoulders brushing against each other.

Harry smiled tightly and told his friends, "You guys ought to go on ahead. Enjoy your Sunday, if you can, with all this drama..."

The Head Girl looked like she wanted to protest, but Harry waved her on. With one last concerned look, Hermione allowed her boyfriend to lead her away from the little group with a soft, "Let's go, Hermione." Ginny stepped up to face the two boys.

Looking at the two of them was almost physically painful to her - because she knew how painful it must be for them, because she felt sure that things would only get worse, and because she really did care about the two of them so much. She took one of each boy's hands in her own and squeezed tightly, all she could say was, "I'm here, if either of you ever need..."

It was the boy who Ginny had been in love with through all her girlhood, who pulled free from her grasp first. Harry reassured her and glanced quickly up at his Slytherin boyfriend, saying, "Don't worry, we're just going to the library to study." They headed off opposite the direction that Hermione and Ron had taken and left Ginny standing alone in the stone corridor, giving a slight wave with one hand as she watched them both go.

THE HEAD BOY WAS GIVING his boyfriend a funny look as they left the Gryffindor girl behind. He asked doubtfully, "Studying? Really? Potter, I've never known you to study so much."

Harry didn't immediately reply, as they were passing a group of his housemates. Draco was a bit surprised to see the little bigots direct the most hateful glare at Harry as he had ever seen from Gryffindors - and he had been on the receiving end of a lot of Gryffindors' glares before.

Once they had passed the angry group, Harry explained, "You might be surprised, Malfoy, but I turned into quite the good student last year. I was second in my house; after Hermione, of course."

Draco raised his eyebrows at this little bit of knowledge, but only said smugly, "Good, then I can at least be sure you know what you're teaching me." They both smiled and shared a brief comfortable moment, before they entered the heavy and dampening atmosphere of library.

They pushed open the heavy door to the gloomy, sprawling catacombs that made up Hogwarts' library. Students were littered across the long tables of the main room and glared at the boys' intrusion. Harry lead the way quickly through the rows of annoyed and censorious faces, and aimed for one of the private rooms that were tucked away among the stacks.

Finally, they found an unoccupied study room that went generally unnoticed and unused, back in the History of Magic stacks, behind the section focussing on Goblin rebellions. If Hermione didn't find it necessary to go above and beyond on absolutely every assignment, Harry would have never known about this room. But Hermione was of course the one student to have ever done extra research on Binn's never-ending Goblin rebellions and so she had become probably the only student at Hogwarts who knew about the little room - till she'd told Harry and Ron, of course.

Closing the door behind them, Harry relaxed against the solid mahogany with a sigh, his eyes sliding shut as he finally felt free from the hostile prying eyes. He was interrupted from his moment of escape though, by Draco asking suddenly, "Potter, have you your textbooks?"

Harry's eyes popped open and he looked warily over at the blonde, "Err, no. Haven't you?"

The Head Boy threw up his empty hands in frustration, "Does it look like I've my books on me? Honestly, how stunningly brilliant, Harry, to suggest we go study when we haven't anything to study."

Feeling stupid and defensive, Harry retorted, "Well, I can teach you charms and transfiguration without any texts. Isn't it at least a relief to be away from all the crowds?" He pushed off from the door and moved over a wall to sit on the ground, his chin practically resting on his knees.

Draco smiled briefly when he saw this childish pose and moved over to sit leaning against the wall next to Harry. He nudged the other boy in the shoulder and told him, "Yes, it is better. But we can't run away forever, Potter. We can't even run away for more than today. We're going to have to face this, and keep facing it, because it isn't going to go away." He looked seriously at the Gryffindor, "This is who we are now - and we can't very well run away from ourselves."

IT WAS THE NEXT AFTERNOON and Draco was walking back to the Slytherin dorms after his last class. He'd been in N.E.W.T. arithmancy with Granger for the last three hours. They normally didn't address each other as more than vague acquaintances in class, but today they had sat together for the first time. Despite her reservations and their bitter history, Hermione was trying to take Malfoy's offer of 'friendship' seriously, and for his part, the Slytherin certainly was acting more open and amiable with her than he ever had before.

He'd made it through that morning of Potions with Harry, but barely. Snape had been back to his usual vindictive self with both of them and he didn't help at all when the other student singled out the pretty, young boyfriends. And if he hadn't been with Granger for the long arithmancy class, Draco might have had to have left class, lest he start hexing the students who were making snide comments all the while. He didn't even want to imagine what was happening to Harry - everyone expected the Malfoy to do horrible, unspeakable things, but the Boy Who Lived? That was something else entirely.

Lost in thought, Draco muttered the password to the Slytherin common room and ducked into the hole in the stone wall. He froze as soon as he stepped into his house, knowing something was wrong when he saw only the sixth and seventh years ranged before him. Before he could do anything, he was hit with a Silencing spell and immediately felt a familiar suffocating panic filling his throat in the place of a scream, dragged back into the nightmare of his winter spent in silence.

Draco spun toward the door, trying to run from the memories of his mother's oubliette. He was grabbed by the many sets of greedy hands before he could make it out, and thrown harshly back to tumble over one of the chairs, knocking the ebony piece down with him.

Meanwhile, up in the first year dorms, an eleven year-old named Blythe was staring in frustration at his first paper assignment from Snape. He glanced around at the other boys in the room, none of whom glanced up or met his eyes. Sighing quietly, he got up and murmured for no one in particular, "I'm going to go to the library, if we can't work in the common room." He headed down the stairs, still not understanding why the older students had told them to get out of the commons. As soon as he stepped into the room though, it became abundantly clear.

Surrounded by a ring of older students was a curled up figure with unmistakable blonde hair, though some of it was now dyed red by the Head Boy's blood. Too busy with the miserable figure on the floor, none of the students had spotted Blythe and he tried to deny what he was seeing, but just then Greg Goyle kicked the body on the floor sharply in the kidney. Malfoy arched back out of his fetal position, his face twisted in pain but still not making a noise, and Blythe fled.

As quietly as he could, he dashed back to the first year dorms and threw himself into the room he shared with four other indifferent boys. A couple glanced up when he came slamming into the dorm, but there was no real curiosity or concern on their faces.

I've got to help Malfoy, the First Year though desperately, he was the only person who was nice to me. We're both unwelcome here - I've got to help him. With a new feeling of resolve, he turned to Andy Turturro and asked him rather sharply, "Hey, Turturro. Can I borrow that owl of yours for a minute? I need something for my assignment." The boy looked shocked at his audacity as Blythe simply lugged the large cage of his desk with a hurried, "Thanks, mate."

Really, Blythe was thanking the gods that Andy always kept his beloved owl up in the dorm, instead of sending her to the Owlery like everyone was supposed to do. He tore off a scrap of parchment and quickly scrawled, "To Harry Potter - Please come to the Slytherin common room, Malfoy is in trouble." He signed with his name and year, and then quickly tied the note to the surprisingly gentle barn owl. Carrying her over to the wall, where there was a narrow window fifteen feet up that just barely cleared the ground outside, he whispered to her, "Take this to Harry Potter, okay? He's a Seventh Year in Gryffindor. Black hair, green eyes."

Blythe spelled the window open, an easy charm all the new Slytherins were taught. Promising the bird his breakfast tomorrow, he sent the owl off for help, barely daring to hope for any. You've got to help him. Please. Someone help Malfoy.

He was lost in the tight clench of his worry and cowardice, but he didn't have to wait more than two minutes for his message to come back to him, looking untouched. Feeling his heart sink and wondering what he could possibly do by himself to help the Head Boy, he unrolled the parchment. But Blythe's chest contricted again, a sharp hopeful pain growing there this time, as he saw new words scrawled in pencil along the bottom of his message: Thanks, Blythe. On the way. -HP

HERMIONE STUMBLED THROUGH THE FIREPLACE and into the Head Boy's room, upset by her best friend, who was clinging to her shoulder underneath his invisibility cloak. "Hurry, Hermione. The note said the common room," Harry urgently whispered and, trying to ignore her misgiving that this might just be a trick, Hermione lead the way out of the Slytherin Head's room.

They started up the stairs and sounds began to filter down - the unmistakable sounds of physical violence. They hurried in unspoken agreement as the grunts of exertion and meaty thuds reached them, occasionally punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin. There were no sounds of pain, though. Was Malfoy fighting back, or where they already too late?

Breaking into the common room, Hermione had to swallow hard to force the thick ball of sickness out of her throat. The older Slytherins were gathered in a rough circle in the centre of the room, several of them holding down a wildly struggling pale figure. The blonde hair was streaked with dark blood and Draco Malfoy was screaming with an abandon that had nothing to do with rational thought. It was only made more pitiable because there was no sound from the boy. His teeth were bloody from where his lip had been split and there were several bruises already blooming on his thin skin, blood oozing out of the cracks as if he were really made of paper and that easy to tear apart.

The Head Girl heard Harry's gasp of pain, even as she saw Pansy Parkinson moving forward with her wand trained on Malfoy. Three guesses, but there were none needed to figure that whatever spell she was planning to cast would not be pleasant. Harry's hand clenched painfully on the Hermione's shoulder, his little fingers digging under her collarbone.

Hermione gasped out, "Stop!" Her desperate plea was for both Harry and the Slytherins, but Pansy was the only one to really react. She turned her wand on the Head Girl, looking more than a little unstable. Hermione could feel the hot power rushing out from Harry though, and then everyone else in the room was frozen. Remembering how it had felt when Harry had used this same trick on her last year, the Gyrffindor girl hurried through the unmoving students to her Head Boy.

"Fifty points from Slytherin for each one of you." Her voice was shrill and fast as she tried to calm Malfoy, with little success. She dragged the taller boy to his feet and he had at least stopped screaming, though instead he was now stumbling like a sleepwalker. She knew Harry was supporting his boyfriend from the other side and she bit out, as they headed back down to Draco's room, "Congratulations, you've just lost your house 650 points. I doubt you'll even see positive numbers again before the end of the year. The rest of your punishment will be decided by the staff, for attacking the Head Boy."

The Gryffindors bundled the quiet boy back into his room and Harry immediately threw off his cloak, croaking painfully, "Malfoy, my god..." He quickly began to heal all the bruises and cuts he could, checking the unresisting figure for broken bones. Draco was beginning to tremble as he stared blindly into the corner of the room. Harry stilled from where he had been checking the Slytherin's arms for breaks and asked hesitantly, "Malfoy?"

The boy was taking breathy little gasps and Hermione whispered in the hushed tones that disasters demand, "I think he's in shock."

Harry took the Slytherin's cold hands in his own, wrapping his fingers around the familiar digits that were strangely unreciprocating. "Hey, Draco..."

The blonde flinched away from the touch and Harry turned to look at the Head Girl, who stared wordlessly back at him. Sitting carefully next to the shaking figure, Harry slowly eased an arm around his boyfriend. He tried to be reassuring but knew that he sounded more scared as he told the boy, "Malfoy, it's all right. It's over, okay?" There was no response from Draco, it was as if the Slytherin wasn't even aware of them.

"Draco. Come back now, Draco. We're going to be okay." Still nothing. "Please, I'm sorry-"

The Boy Who Lived was near tears as he rocked his seemingly-catatonic boyfriend, sitting on the edge of the bed. Not caring that Hermione was there watching, he kissed the blonde; a hard, desperate kiss against that close mouth. Harry whispered forcefully as he held that blanched white face between his littler hands, "Draco, you've got to come back. I can't do this. I won't."

There was the first faintest sign of cognizance as Draco blinked his silvery eyes. He slowly turned that painful mirrored stare in Harry's direction. He raised a shaking hand to his own lips and then ran that hand over Harry's left hand, still cradling his face. Harry had a horrible thought as he watched the boy blindly feel his familiar little hand and mouth his name.

Harry whispered to his best friend, "Hermione, I... I don't think he can see."