White Horses

HERMIONE STARED, AND THEN CAME over to perch in front of the blonde. Draco showed no awareness that she was there. She put a hand on his knee and he jumped in surprise at the new touch. With flaming cheeks, Hermione picked up his other hand and guided it to her own head, letting him feel the infamous frizzy hair. When his slender fingers snagged against the bushy waves, Draco's expression melted into relief and he mouthed her name as well.

The Gryffindor girl pulled out her wand and cancelled the Silencing spell that the vindictive Slytherins must have put on the Head Boy. As soon as she did so, Draco said disbelievingly, "Potter, Granger, you came?"

Harry nodded, before remembering that the boy couldn't see it. He bit his lip and murmured his response, running a hand through that silky white hair from where he sat perched in front of the boy.

Draco muttered, "I, uh, I still can't see or hear you, though."

Hermione turned over the palm she held and carefully traced letters onto the Slytherin's narrow hand, "W-H-A-T-S-P-E-L-L."

Nodding his understanding, Draco was calming down in the reassurance that Hermione could fix this, if anyone. His voice only shook slightly as he told her, "They used auditori silencio first. As a result, I obviously couldn't hear what they used for... for my eyes."

Of course Hermione knew the counter-curse for auditori silencio, so at least Draco's hearing was returned to him. He heard a loud pop and then the background pink noise of the castle rushed in to fill the void, seeming deafeningly loud. "Draco, can you hear me?" came Harry's voice, loud and full of fear.

Draco could hear the undeniable relief in his own voice when he replied, "Yes, Potter. It seems that I can't shut you up after all." He heard a breathy little laugh from Harry, then asked, "Granger, you're there as well?"

Her voice was cool but dependable, as she said, "I am. We were alerted by one of your first years, a Blythe something. And now we ought to get you out of here and down to Madame Pomfrey."

She pulled away and contacted Pomfrey via Draco's fireplace. While Hermione hurriedly explained the situation to the school mediwitch, Harry helped Draco to stand, holding the Head Boy's right arm and wrapping his own left arm around the boy's narrow waist. They made their way uncertainly to the fire in this way and Hermione said, "Harry, you go first - that way you can grab Malfoy when he goes through."

She ignored her friend's reluctance and pushed him into the flames. He disappeared in a whorl of green fire. Left alone with Draco, she asked, "Can you do this?"

The boy bristled, but wasn't stupid enough to push away her guiding hands. "Of course," he spat, and waited impatiently for direction.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she turned his body the right way, "Step forward, then."

Draco stepped into the dry heat and felt the dizzying rush of Floo travel, made so much worse by his temporary blindness. He came to a stumbling halt and pitched forward, not knowing where he was until he fell into a familiar body. Breathing in the smell of soap and shampoo that clung to Harry, he leaned gratefully against his boyfriend, his arms automatically coming up to wrap around the boy's back. Even without sight, he knew those familiar contours and leaned his cheek against the silky hair that he knew would be black and messy.

Harry allowed them both to enjoy that moment of comfort, then drew his boyfriend away from the fireplace. Hermione came tumbling through and Madame Pomfrey tutted disapprovingly at the sooty threesome. Draco realized belatedly that the old dame was in the room, and had been even when he'd embraced Harry so needily. Ah fuck, let's hope she doesn't have a problem with gays, too.

Madame Pomfrey surprised all three of the students, though, by chiding the boys, "My two most frequent patients. No wonder you would end up together, anyone else would probably die of the stress of living with either of you two." That was all she said on the matter, before she bustled Draco into a curtained bed.

Hermione had already explained about his eyes, so the mediwitch rushed about in a flurry, healing anything Harry had missed, as she explained, "We'll make sure everything else is alright before we try to tackle that little disaster." The older woman was checking Draco's vital signs to be sure that there were no more slow-acting injuries or curses, when she noticed the Slytherin's arrhythmia.

Making a considering little hum, she summoned a stethoscope. (At least, Harry assumed it was a stethoscope, though it didn't much resemble its Muggle cousin.) She moved behind Draco and lifted his shirt-tail to press the tool to that thin back. When Draco yelped at the sudden cold of the apparatus, Harry was sure it was a stethoscope - and Draco must've had some idea as well, because he cleared his throat and asked awkwardly, "Hey, Potter, mind getting me a change of clothes? This set is ruined." Nearly confident that the mediwitch was still behind him and that Harry was even watching, he mouthed forcefully, "My pills."

Harry squeezed the blonde's hand and then quickly headed back to the fireplace. He heard Pomfrey asking whether Draco had been sleeping properly lately, and then hurried through the grate. Stumbling into Draco's room, he first pulled out a pair of grey slacks and a large, clingy back sweater. Throwing these on the bed, he dashed to the bathroom, knocking over Draco's cup and haircare bottles in his haste, but finding no little plastic bottle of pills.

Back in the bedroom, he glanced around wildly. Harry pawed through the desk and nightstand both, but found nothing. Then he remembered the last time he had seen the boy with the pills - Draco had been on the floor with Hermione, next to his open trunk. The trunk. Harry dropped to the floor and tugged on the lid. It didn't budge and the Gryffindor could feel that there were more than just locks holding it shut. Cursing Slytherin paranoia, Harry laid his hand atop the lid, closing his eyes as he tried to find the spells. He didn't recognize the wards, though most of them felt like Draco's magic. Regardless, he was able to force them to part long enough to pry the lid off.

Straining against the lid that wanted to snap shut with enough force that it would probably take his hand off, he rooted through the trunk. Pushing through old school books, magical paraphernalia and a couple journals (Draco keeps journals?), he found the pills where they had fallen into a corner. Snagging the Muggle bottle, he pulled his arm free and happily let the trunk's lid fall shut with an angry, violated slam. He poured a couple of the pills into his hand, then grabbed the bundle of clothes and went back through the fire.

When Harry arrived back in the hospital wing, he heard Pomfrey saying cautiously, "It's probably just due to stress, but if it persists, let me know. It could be something more serious."

Harry tried to look nonchalant as he pushed back into the curtained area. The mediwitch looked up at him and he suggested, "Er, why don't I help Malfoy get changed, before you start on his eyes?" Pomfrey agreed to the suggestion with no more than a mildly suspicious look and took Hermione out to ask her more carefully about what she knew.

The two boys were left alone. Seeing the blood that still matted Draco's white hair and marred his pale skin, Harry performed a quick scouring charm on the boy, then muttered, "You know, I could have just done that for your clothes as well."

Draco gestured for him to come closer and when he could feel the boy leaning over him, he said, "I know, but I needed an excuse. Did you get them?"

In response, Harry pressed the little tablets into the boy's hands, whispering in an admonishing tone, "Of course. Two, blue."

Draco felt relief sweep through him before he even swallowed the pills. Then he nearly choked on them, when Harry murmured, "I had to mess with the wards on your trunk, though. Sorry. I think they're still intact." Draco jerked his head as if to stare at the boy in disbelief, but there was nothing there to stare at.

Harry never stopped shocking him with the magic he could pull off as if it were nothing - and the Gryffindor really seemed to think it was nothing. But those wards would have probably stumped even Snape. Harry's voice sounded bewildered as he asked, "What?" Shaking his head dismissively, Draco used his boyfriend's guidance to get up out of the hospital bed.

Once Draco was upright and stable, Harry helped him pull his shirt up over his head. Folding the white school shirt as if to hide its rusty stains, Harry left it on the bed and picked up the sweater he'd brought with him. He handed it to Draco, who - grateful for this sign that Harry thought he could take care of himself - carefully felt his way into the shirt. He slipped the soft, clinging matieral over his head and knew at once which sweater Harry had picked. Once everything seemed to be in place, he ran his hands around the neckline, checking that the tag was in the back and that he hadn't put his shirt on backward.

Harry's voice cut into the darkness, a faintly laughing tone, "Shall I help you out of your trousers?"

Draco smiled sharply and purred, "Why, Potter - I don't know what to say..."

Then Hermione tugged on the curtain, in place of knocking, and asked suspiciously, "What're you two doing in there?"

Draco threw back in his best bedroom voice, "Are you sure you want to know?"

Trying to stifle his laughter, Harry told the Head Girl, "Nothing, we're almost done."

Somehow, Draco managed to instinctively catch the right angle and whispered in Harry's ear, "Really? I was only just getting started."

As his face flushed red, Harry was momentarily glad that Draco couldn't see him. It was only momentary, though, because the blonde continued, "Why does your face feel so flushed, Potter? A bit too hot for you?"

Harry couldn't find any way to avoid the Slytherin's innuendos, so he said in a slightly exasperated voice, "Just take off your trousers, Malfoy."

The blonde darted back in to place a quick, uncertain kiss on Harry's cheek, then said, "Only for you." He did desist then, and dropped his trousers, holding lightly onto Harry with one hand as he stepped out of them.

Harry took the slacks without a word and handed Draco the fresh pair. The blonde sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the new trousers on with ease, standing again to button himself up. He stood patiently as Harry tugged his clothes into place and then brushed through his white hair with those little hands. "There, you're presentable, Malfoy," he told the Head Boy, before calling out to let the women back in.

Hermione was surprised to see Draco looking so vulnerable, perched on the edge of the bed in an over-large black sweater that fell midway down his thighs and down past the knuckles on his thin hands. With those blank silvery eyes missing their usual intelligence and sharpness, he looked nearly like another person. She hadn't realized just how much of Malfoy was in even those blank stares he would give her, until she saw these truly empty eyes.

Madame Pomfrey took the Slytherin's chin in her hand, tilting his face up so that she could check his eyes. She had already explained that she would have to try several different spells and charms, since she didn't know what curse had been used to cause the blindness in the first place.

"Couldn't you try that spell?" Harry quietly asked the Head Girl, miming pulling a string off his arm.

Remembering the spell she had used on her friend the year before, Hermione shook her head, "No, it only shows magical influences, not what specifically those influences are." Then they were both shushed by the mediwitch and they fell silent again.

Pomfrey tried a dizzying array of spells, with varied results. Once or twice, Draco reported being able to see shadowy figures; a few times, he saw momentary bursts of light. Finally, one of the spells allowed him to see the hospital wing and the Gryffindors - but the room was rotting away as he watched and he couldn't focus on his friends, seeing them at once as a dizzying collage of different versions of themselves. He squeezed his eyes shut and the twisting figures seemed to dance against the black of his eyelids. Draco bit out tightly, "Whatever you just did, please, undo it."

The mediwitch huffed, "I can't simply 'undo it,' but I'll try to lessen the affects, if they are bothering you."

She muttered a couple more long incantations and Draco heard Harry ask in concern, "What is it? Could you see something?" With his head still bowed, Draco cautiously opened one eye, then the other. He was looking down at his own white hands, and everything seemed normal. His eyes turned upward and all the hospital ward was normal, as well - all except Harry, that was.

Harry was watching him with his bright green eyes wide with concern. His face was streaked with blood and tear tracks, and his silky black hair was curling against his forehead, left damp with sweat and the blood oozing from his infamous lightening-bolt scar. Standing over his shoulder was the Dark Lord himself, and Voldemort had one hand wrapped around Harry's neck, and the other was plunged into the boy's chest, right through the other scar he had left on the Boy Who Lived. Draco drew a shuddering breath and covered his eyes tightly with his hands, the papery thin eyelids not nearly enough protection from such a ghastly vision. He couldn't block the cruel voice that seemed to whisper between his ears, "Death waits for us all - even you, Malfoy. Especially him..."

There were little hands tugging at his and Draco's protection was pulled away. Harry shook the blonde slightly and asked him what was wrong. Cautiously, Draco opened his eyes again, but this time he only saw Harry's open, worried face - clean from blood and tears alike. He let out the breath he hadn't even been aware of holding and looked around the room again. The Head Boy hazarded, "I think it's settled now, I can see pretty clearly."

Hermione was staring at him curiously and asked, "What did you see before, Malfoy?"

He looked at her carefully and then muttered, when she looked safely like herself, "Bad things."

Pomfrey check his eyes again and hummed to herself, "Well, they aren't perfect, but it seems that there was already some damage prior to this. I imagine that you suffer from photosensitivity?" When he nodded, she confirmed to herself, "Yes, defiantly some previous damage. However, this has made it even worse; you'll probably have to wear-"

The Slytherin cut her off quickly, exclaiming, "No. Not glasses."

The woman looked mildly affronted and started, "Now, now, Mr Malfoy. It would just be for distant objects, such as the blackboard in class. I'm sure you'd have no trouble with...-"

Draco was shaking his head stubbornly and turned unfairly on his bewildered boyfriend, "Goddamn you, Potter."

The boy's were wide behind his own round glasses and he asked uncertainly, "Me? Why, what'd I do?"

Draco shot him a dirty glare, his eyes full of fire and sharp again, "This is all your fault."

Harry's face fell and he said miserable, "I know, I'm sorry. I should've been there-"

The blonde scoffed his exasperation, and spat, "What, so you could get your ass kicked, too? Don't have some massive guilt-trip. I'm just mad because I don't want to be a four-eyed freak like you!" Draco dropped his head into his hands and moaned in disgust, "Ugh, glasses. Draco Malfoy in glasses." Harry felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. He patted the Slytherin in commiseration, grinning over the boy's defeated head as Pomfrey summoned a piar of truly hideous glasses from her apparent store of such oddments.

The mediwitch adjusted the strength of the lenses with a spell that would make them respond specifically to Draco's needs. She held out the bulky glasses - which had probably been stolen from a poor myopic accountant in 1969, from the style of them - and said promptly, "All right, let's have them on them."

Looking at those hideous glasses, Harry felt better about his own often made fun of round frames. They might look 'quaint,' but 'quaint' was surely better than 'monstrously nerdish.' Taking pity on his boyfriend, Harry plucked the glasses out of the older woman's hands and frowned down at the thick, square frames. Running his fingers around the lenses, he prompted the heavy plastic to change into light metal frames. Harry molded the metal and glass as if it would flow under his hands and, to Hermione and Madam Pomfrey's shock, it did.

"Mr Potter," the mediwitch pulled the glasses back from his hands, "what do you think you're doing?"

The Gryffindor matched her shocked stare with innocent green eyes, and protested, "Nothing. It was just a bit of simple transfiguration-" Pomfrey was checking the lenses and was shocked to see that Harry hadn't affect their strength at all.

Hermione was looking scandalized and said stiffly, "Harry, that was not a bit of 'simple transfiguration!'"

Her friend shrugged and argued weakly, "Sure it was. I wasn't even altering anything more than superficial values. It's still the same form and same elements."

Draco spoke up for the first time, as he pushed himself off the bed, "Forget about it, Granger. That's just Potter for you." He took the new glasses and held them up to check out, "Nice, Potter. They're at least decent now." The blonde slipped on the light rectangular frames and grimaced at the unusual (though insignificant) weight. Glaring over the top of the narrow square frames, Draco now looked like an entirely different person. The glasses made him look older and vaguely scholarly, and with his mussed silver hair and his baggy sweater hanging over his hands, he looked more like a young, disgruntled professor than Lucius Malfoy's son.

"Now you looked like Head Boy," Hermione told him with a slight tinge of satisfied laughter as she stared measuringly at this new Malfoy.

He glared imperiously at her and Harry added, "Well, no, now you look like Snape."

The Slytherin blanched and repeated incredulously, "Snape? Fuck this, the glasses are gone."

He moved to yank off the corrective lenses, but Madam Pomfrey stepped in, "I believe, Mr Malfoy, that he was likening your expression to my esteemed colleague, not your physical appearance. You will wear the glasses."

The protesting Head Boy gave up when he saw her face and placated the mediwitch by agreeing meekly. Harry didn't believe that acquiescient attitude for a moment, but it seemed to be enough for Pomfrey.

"Fine, then - be sure that you do. Now, I am releasing you into the care of Mr Potter and Ms Granger, and I suggest that you go back to your quarters to rest. I'm still concerned about that irregularity in your heart rate, so I'll trust these two not to excite you." This last statement was paired with a swift censorious glare at the Gryffindors and they both nodded in a hurry. They were all glad to head back through the fireplace and away from the mediwitch's critical eye.

As soon as all three students had stumbled back into the Head Boy's room, though, Hermione turned to leave again, explaining as she went, "I'm going to try to get a meeting with Dumbledore. Something has to be done about the Slytherins. Harry, you stay here with Malfoy - I'll come back as soon as I know anything." She already had one foot in the green fire and as soon as she finished rattling off her rushed speech, she was gone in a whirl of flames. The silence she left felt slightly strained as the two boys were left alone. Harry looked down at the bloody clothes in his hands, then quickly away again.

Draco interrupted the silence to say mildly, "I'm rather tired. All this persecution can really take it out of a body."

Given direction, Harry fixed his gaze on his pale boyfriend and saw that Draco really did look exhausted "You should get some sleep; Hermione and I can take care of everything from here on out."

Harry remembered vaguely that Draco's heart problems could cause fatigue and lassitude, and forced himself not to act worried. Draco sat down wearily on his bed's black duvet and toed off his shoes. He didn't bother to change his clothes, but eased back onto the wide bed fully dressed.

Harry carried the soiled clothes over to place them on an empty chair. Draco called out to him softly, and he turned around to see the blonde watching him lazily through his downcast lashes. "Pot'r, c'mere."

Fluent in the boy's sleepy mumbling, Harry came over and sat on the edge of the bed. He moved the glasses that Draco had left carelessly on the coverlet over to the nightstand, then was surprised when his boyfriend pulled him down onto the bed with him. Apparently he wasn't so far asleep as he appeared.

"Draco-" he started to protest weakly, but the Slytherin shushed him.

"Give me a couple minutes, Harry."

The blonde's breathing settled into the deep evenness of sleep, but Harry didn't immediately pull away. Ever since Pansy had snuck into Draco's room on Saturday, there had been a new awkward tension between the two boys. If he was being honest, Harry realized it might have been going on ever since they had gotten back to school and back to the real world. Now as things were becoming worse all around them, with the whole school disapproving of the two of them being together, Harry was becoming less and less sure on what he ought to do. He was becoming less sure of whether he ought to be with Draco. The incident today had been another clear example.

Is it worth this? I knew that people wouldn't be accepting - Hermione lectured me too much for any naïve ideas like that. But I still didn't expect this kind of active persecution. Harry listened to his boyfriend's soft breathing as he worried about the situation. He couldn't forget the sick fear he'd felt when he'd thought that the boy might have been blinded. They were lucky that Pomfrey was so skilled that she'd been able to find a way to restore his sight - but magic wouldn't be able to fix everything. But, he told himself weakly, even if we weren't together, everyone now knows that we're both gay. It probably wouldn't change anything to split up. Probably.

Not very reassured by his own reasoning, the Gryffindor pulled out of the sleeping boy's embrace. He sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he looked down at the blonde. He was still in this position when Hermione cam rushing furiously back in. Harry quickly hushed his angry friend and hurried over to where she was standing by the fireplace, fiercely beating the soot out of her clothes. "What happened?" he hissed at her as she twisted her hands into fists.

"'Unfortunate!'" she spat furiously, "Dumbledore told me that what happened was 'unfortunate!' Those bastards could have beat him to death. And he calls that 'unfortunate?!'"

Harry whispered back urgently, "You mean, he isn't going to do anything?"

The Head Girl took a deep calming breath and seemed to count to ten. Apparently ten wasn't enough, because she kept on counting until he had to prod her again. "Well, he told me to talk to McGonagall about it. That she could decide if punishment is necessary as Deputy Headmistress." Hermione's eyes began to narrow again as she said bitterly, "This 'one little incident' isn't of enough import to warrant the Headmaster's attention."

Harry remembered the old Scot's attitude on Saturday and hoped that she would still be feeling understanding. With one last worried look, they left Draco asleep and undisturbed to go in search of their house's head.

"DETENTION?" HARRY ASKED IN A faintly disbelieving voice. He knew McGonagall was their best (and only) chance for help, so he was making an effort not to seem too incredulous in the face of the Deputy Headmistress's suggestion. He pushed up his glasses and said unsurely, "Don't you think that something like this really calls for a more serious punishment than detention? I mean, detention is for being late to class or sneaking around after hours. These Slytherins beat Mafloy half to death and tried to do permanent damage to him - to a fellow student, to the Head Boy!"

The Gryffindor boy wasn't expecting Hermione to be the one with a retort, but she butted in before McGonagall had even said a word in her own defense. "Actually," she told Harry, "detention might just be perfect."

Harry blinked his wide green eyes at her and asked blankly, "How'd you figure that one?"

Seeming to feel a solution within her grasp, Hermione jumped out of her chair to pace through the problem, "Well, if we give all the students who had a hand in it detention - every night - then they couldn't possibly have the opportunity to do anything more to Malfoy, could they?"

McGonagall had a stiff frown as she tried to say discouragingly, "Ms Granger, be that as it may, that's not quite what I had in mind. I cannot justify keeping the students in detention all evening, every day. Their parents and teachers would complain if their grades suffered as a result."

The old Scot's frown deepened as she watched Hermione prepare to launch a new volley, the well-worn grooves of her face settling into familiar disapproving lines.

The Head Girl waxed on. "They are lucky to even be allowed to continue at school; they ought to be expelled for an offence like this! They could be permitted a study hall each evening, overseen by a professor. They have disrespected their house and they should lose privileges as a result - such as the privilege of studying and socializing in their own common room."

With this new condition, the Deputy Headmistress seemed to be seriously considering Hermione's idea and Harry held his breath. He was more than a little afraid that this punishment would only cause the Slytherins' resentment to grow. But his immediate concern for the Head Boy was more demanding than any fear of future retribution.

"All right," McGonagall finally agreed with a sigh. "I'll have to clear it with Professor Snape and the Headmaster both, and I'll have to find any teachers even willing to take on the reprehensible group, but I will recommend that the offending Slytherins be put into detention every evening, starting at 7 o'clock and that prior to their detentions they will be detained in a staff-supervised study period. That should keep them away from Mr Malfoy, for the time being."

Hermione was beaming in response to her plan's reluctant acceptance and she was still thanking McGonagall as she dragged Harry from the Gryffindor head's office. She breathed in relief, "Thank goodness. That should take care of the Slytherins for a while. Now I can get back to work on my NEWTs." They arrived back at the Head Girl's room in Gryffindor Tower and Harry wished he felt as relieved as she seemed to.

Really, he wanted to see something worse happen to Pansy and the other Slytherins. Preferrably something which involved chains and sharp, pointy objects. Then again, since they were Slytherins, they might just enjoy that more.

He wasn't as sure about what Draco wanted, since there hadn't even been time yet for them to process everything that had happened. But knowing his plotting, sneaky, Slytherin boyfriend as he did, Harry already knew that Draco would craft a revenge so dreadful that Harry wouldn't even be able to imagine it. It was surely only a matter of time. The Gryffindor thought fleetingly that he should probably dissuade his boyfriend from any rash actions that might land him in trouble, but really he wanted to see them suffer.

As he headed back to Slytherin, he paused at the grate of her fireplace and told Hermione awkwardly, "You, er, don't have to wait for me to come back."

The skinny girl raised an eyebrow suggestively, "Oh, really?"

Harry faltered and tried to explain, "No, I mean - I don't want to keep you up, and I know another way out of the Slytherin dorms, so..." By Hermione's expression, he wasn't making things any better, so he just finished weakly, "I just don't want you to have to wait and worry for me."

Hermione snorted and said, "If you're with Malfoy, I don't think there's anything for me to worry about."

Harry realized how incongruous that ought to sound and stepped back out of the hearth. Instead of hurrying to tell Draco what had happened, he asked almost warily, "What do you mean?"

The Head Girl had shrugged off her robes and was hanging them neatly in her wardrobe to coax out the wrinkles that formed over the course of a day. With her back to Harry, her voice sounded rather airy as she told him, "Well, come on. Like Malfoy'd let anything happen to you." Harry sat down on the edge of her bed and the soft fwump of his landing on the mattress caused Hermione to turn and look at him, "What is it, Harry?" Her dark-haired friend shook his head mutely and flopped back onto the crimson bed.

Earlier, when they had first been heading back to school, Ginny had teased him about Draco's feelings about him, and now Hermione was saying something similar. Even that damned portrait of Slytherin had told him. It seemed as if everyone else was much more certain about the Slytherin's feelings than Harry was himself. The two never actually discussed anything of the sort with each other - last weekend when they discussed splitting up was the closest they had ever come to confessing any kind of need for one another. Neither had wanted to split up, but neither ever expressed any sort of commitment either.

"Harry?" The girl came over and sat next to him on her bed. She brushed his hair out of his face and asked gently, "Is everything all right? You've never really talked about how you feel about all this... the articles and all..."

She was surprised when Harry sat up again. Bracing his hands against the soft mattress, he said briefly, "I don't really feel anything. I haven't had much any problems. Nothing like Malfoy."

He stood up and moved toward the fire again. Hermione wondered how true his reassurances were. Even she, Ron and Ginny had been harassed for simply being friends with the boys. She didn't believe that even Harry's hero status could allow him to escape without any sort of backlash - in fact, she expected that it was making things even worse for him than the rest of them. Before she had the chance to bring him up on his lies though, Harry said quickly, "Never mind, Hermione. Don't worry about it. I'm going to go let Malfoy know what McGonagall said - don't wait up for me." He threw her a weak teasing smile that didn't seem entirely genuine, then he was gone.

HARRY STUMBLED QUIETLY INTO DRACO'S dark room, glancing immediately at the bed to confirm that the blonde was still asleep where he'd left him. The sky outside the broad windows had lost its light; the dark, smoky clouds were not interrupted by either stars or moon. Looking at the stretch of windows, Harry wanted for a moment to leave through his hidden door and escape into the old Gryffindor dorms, without Draco ever being any the wiser that he had ever come back. But it was only for a moment.

He pulled off his shoes and placed them over by the wardrobe. Before taking off his glasses, Harry checked that the Slytherin's alarm was set properly for them both to make it to class on time. He pulled off his lenses and set them, folded, on the nightstand. He was a bit surprised to feel his fingers brush against Draco's new glasses as well. Looking down at the still figure that was barely distinguishable in the dark except for a pale smudge in the black sheets, he whispered softly, "Draco?" The boy didn't rouse at all, so Harry eased himself down onto that black bed. He lay down on his side and pulled Draco's limp arm around him. The blonde tightened that hold reflexively and as he tried to put his worries at rest, Harry stared into the dark night, waiting for sleep.

DRACO WOKE IN THE MIDDLE of his bed to the sound of morning birds. He glanced over toward his clock to check the time, surprised to find his vision oddly fuzzy - not so much that he couldn't see, but enough that he had to squint over Harry's back to see clearly the thin hands on the clock's face.

It didn't seem unusual that Harry would be curled up in his bed; Draco had a vague recollection of falling asleep with the boy early the previous evening. He pushed himself up on one elbow as he reached over the sleeping Gryffindor to turn off the alarm clock before its shrill cries would sound.

Draco was surprised to feel his muscles protest stiffly - he glanced down at Harry, unable to recall anything they'd done that would be vigorous enough to leave him sore. As he leaned over his boyfriend though, Draco stopped dead, frozen in his aborted motion as he stared transfixed at the sight of Harry's blood pooled on the silky sheets, spreading away from his deathly pale skin.