White Horses

HARRY WAS LYING ON HIS side, turned away from Draco. His face was peacefully lax and his eyes were still closed as if in sleep. It was the blood that left the sheets shiny as it fled from his body which had stopped the blonde so abruptly.

Harry's throat had been completely torn out, the skin shredded and bits of white bone glaring through the mangled flesh. Draco, uncomprehending, reached out a shaking hand to the boy. Only then did he see that his own hands were slick with the boy's blood as well.

Unaware of the desperate whimpers he was making as he sucked in great gulps of air, Draco scrambled backward off the edge of the bed and fell to the ground with a loud thud.

He rushed to his bathroom to be ill and was hanging desperately onto the cold, clammy porcelain of the commode when he heard his boyfriend's sleepy voice, "Malfoy, what's wrong? You ill?"

Jerking his head up to stare in horror at the boy, Draco was floored to see Harry standing in the doorway, in one piece and looking unharmed. His glance flew back to his own hands, which were still coated with the slowly coagulating blood. Leaving his bloody handprints on the toilet's shining white porcelain, he shoved past the dark-haired boy and dashed to the bed, throwing the bedclothes about but finding no sign of the earlier gore. Collapsing to the ground, Draco stared at his hands, the only reminder of the horrific scene he had woken to.

"Draco, what the hell is wrong?"

Harry had followed the blonde from the bathroom, once he recovered from being pushed into the door, and kneeled next to him in baffled concern. Draco had his hands tucked under his arms, unable to look at the blood, and was muttering, "Fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck."

Harry tugged on the boy's arms until he pulled his hands free, trying to lace his own short fingers with the Slytherin's. Draco struggled against him, moaning, "No, Harry. You, your..." Still not understanding what had happened, Harry pulled his distraught boyfriend against him.

The Gryfindor tried to comfort the shaking Head Boy, unused to seeing him so disturbed and unsure what to do. "Shh, Draco. It's okay. Everything's all right now. You must've had a nightmare."

The blonde pushed away and help up a trembling hand to feel the other boy's neck. He was shocked to feel the skin whole and firm beneath his bloody fingers; the Gryffindors warm pulse struggled against his hands pressure. "But... the blood. All your blood was..." Harry watched as Draco stared down at his own hands, whispering, "But my hands are still covered with your blood."

Harry held tightly onto those thin hands as he said, "No, they aren't. It was just a nightmare, Mafloy. It wasn't real - everything is all right."

Draco allowed the other boy to cling to him, but didn't raise his own arms to embrace the Boy Who Lived. To his own eyes, his hands were still smeared with the Gryffindor's blood and he couldn't touch Harry with them. He heard his boyfriend murmuring reassuringly into his ear, "It was a nightmare, Malfoy. It's not real. It was just a dream."

Finally able to ignore the thick blood that seemed to be crusting his white hands, Draco pushed the Gryffindor away and lied, "I know it was a dream. I'm not a fool or Gryffindor, so childish as to be frightened by night terrors."

But he would not touch the other boy for the rest of the brief morning, while they got dressed in awkward silence, and Harry went his separate way to head to Gryffindor, then class, leaving through Draco's fireplace again.

When he arrived in the Head Girl's room, Hermione had luckily already left for the morning. Harry left her a brief note on her desk, though he would probably see her before she got it, and hurried out of her room and down the stairs. Striding across the common room, he was a bit surprised to see Seamus already awake and downstairs - there was no one else in the commons.

Nodding as he headed past the Irish boy on his way to the stairwell which led to the boys' dorms, he said absently, "Morning, Seamus."

The sandy-haired boy shot out a hand to stop him and pulled Harry stumbling back with a sharp tug on the back of his shirt, "Good morning, faggot."

DRACO WASN'T TOO SURPRISED TO find Harry in the library that night, now that he was getting used to the good-student-Potter bit. It was slightly odd though, how the boy jumped when he saw Draco. After what the Head Boy had awoken to that morning, he felt that he was the one who ought to be acting jumpy and uptight.

"All right there?" Draco asked in a neutral voice.

His boyfriend leaned forward slightly to block the papers he had spread on the table in front of him. He gave a tight smile and said, "Not too bad. You?"

Something in the Gryffindor's expression said things were worse than 'not too bad' and Draco briefly rested his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. Then he pulled away quickly and remembered belatedly to say, "S'all right now."

Trying to ignore the strange awkwardness between them, Draco started to explain as he distracted himself by shuffling through Harry's papers and ignoring the boy's protests, "McGonagall and Granger's plan might just work. Of course, today's just the first day, but I've been able to walk around... with... no..-"

He tripped to a stop and then asked blankly, "Potter, what're these?"

Harry snatched the papers back from him, hurriedly shoving all the pamphlets into a pile that he hunched over with his burning face. Smiling the tiniest bit just at the purely Gryffindor reaction, Draco moved behind the flustered Gryffindor and began to rub the boy's neck - which allowed him to look over Potter's shoulder at the papers as he brushed aside that silky black hair.

Harry jerked away and sounded truly scandalized as he exclaimed, "Malfoy. We're in public!"

The Slytherin pulled his fool of a Gryffindor boyfriend back as he said, "And we've been outed, so everyone knows your mine. Besides, no one is going to be blinded by this."

Harry tried not to think of the implications of being 'Draco's,' as he savoured the feeling of those thin, bony fingers digging into his tense muscles. It was a torturous mix of pleasure and pain, just like everything was with Draco. He managed to sigh, "Mmm, you're good at that."

The boy paused and Harry glanced up at him, wondering if it was somehow what he'd said that caused the lost look on the boy's face. Draco resumed his massage and explained shortly, "My mother used to let me do this, sometimes."

For the first time since Pansy had intruded in their private life, Harry remembered that Narcissa was still missing and believed to be dead. He had forgotten that Draco had that additional loss to deal with, and guiltily decided that his own problems were nothing compared to Draco's.

"So, university, is it?"

The Slytherin's sudden question knocked Harry out of his musings. He stammered, "Oh, er, well, Hermione just gave me all these pamphlets, you know... just to scope things out."

"In the States?" Draco watched as his lover chewed on his lower lip wordlessly, then said blandly, "Looks nice."

"It might," Harry started unsurely, "...well, it might be good, I thought. To get away for a while. From the UK, the Wizarding World, all of it."

Draco's hands had stopped moving on Harry's shoulders and his voice sounded a bit strange as he said, "That sounds good for you."

Feeling awkward, Harry swivelled in his chair to catch one of Draco's hands. He held onto the other boy, forcing the Slytherin to face him, "You know, you could go, too."

Draco stared back blankly. "I couldn't live with Muggles."

Holding onto those limp thin fingers, Harry looked up into his boyfriend's face. He said uncertainly, "You did, though. Last summer..."

"That wasn't living with Muggles." The blonde laughed shortly and it didn't sound pleasant, "That was taking a short enforced holiday amongst the Muggles while running from the law."

Hearing this rather disparaging description of the summer that he had treasured, the Gryffindor was a bit short as he reminded the boy, "We weren't really running from the law."

Draco started. "Oh... Yeah. Of course not." Harry blinked curiously, but the Slytherin continued before he could question it, "Besides, you are missing the point, Potter. It's not that I am not capable of acting like one of the magicless cretins - but why would I ever want to?"

Harry certainly wasn't going to humiliate himself by saying, "To be with me?" Instead he listened without comment as Draco continued his tirade.

"I'm a Malfoy, for Salazar's sake. Do you really think the Lord of Malfoy Manor would go live among filthy Muggle in America?"

I certainly don't now, Harry thought to himself. He couldn't tell by the incredible scorn in Draco's voice whether it was worse to be amongst Muggles or to be in America.

Draco pulled his hands free from Harry's short-fingered grasp and Harry felt like he had to reiterate, "I'm not going for certain, Draco. I haven't applied to any of these places - it's just one possibility. I could stay here or in England, if that's what..."

He trailed off, not sure how to end his statement. What was he offering? To stay in the UK if Draco was? Or if Draco even wanted them to be together?

"It's your future, Harry - it's nothing to do with me where you go." Harry burned with a shameful hurt at his lover's words and was looking down at his shoes as he heard Draco's voice moving away from him, saying almost reluctantly, "Well, I'll see you on Friday, Harry." And then he was gone, as quickly and inexplicably as he'd come.

ALTHOUGH HE HADN'T SHOWN IT in front of the other boy, Draco was quite flustered as he rushed out of the library. He ran into Ginny just as the Gryffindor prefect was walking into the library to study, and she immediately gave up any ideas of working as soon as she saw how riled up the blonde seemed to be. Hoping fervently that nothing more had happened between he and the Slytherins, she wheeled around to follow Draco out into the hall.

He tolerated her presence, but the Slytherin didn't slow down or make any kind of allowance for her. Long gone was the relatively bright and happy boy who'd greeted her warmly on the platform back in King's Cross, and she was left tagging after a serious and steaming Head Boy. "How are things?" she dared to ask. "Nothing more has happened, has it?"

Draco had stopped as soon as she spoken and he turned around just as she had finished her question. He immediately recoiled.

Standing in front of him was not the Ginevra he knew: sixteen, slender and showing the rough beginnings of true beauty. Instead he saw Ginny as she might be ten years from now: her hair was cut into surprisingly short layers, the red curls springing into a brilliant halo and brushing at her temples. She had filled out quite a bit, but that might have been in part thanks to the infant she held on one hip and the toddler who was clinging to her free hand. Although none of this was real, he was relieved to see this 'future' Ginny was wearing a simple gold wedding band and looked radiantly happy.

"Malfoy, what is it? Why are you staring at me like that?"

The Slytherin blinked and then the spell was over; the 16 year-old Ginny was looking up at him from the few inches that separated them - putting her at exactly the same angle as that which Harry always looked up at him from. He admitted to her, "I think whatever spell the Slytherins used to ruin my vision had some side-affects. That, or the spell that Pomfrey used to fix it."

He started walking again, almost pacing as he confided in Ginny what he hadn't to anyone else, "I can see all right, but I keep seeing people... not as they are. Just then, when I looked at you, you looked about 25 or older." He decided not to mention the kids. If he were a Weasley - gods forbid - he certainly wouldn't want to be reminded of his doom of having a mess of squalid, red-haired brats. He continued, "It's also happened a few times with Potter, but..."

But why do I see a healthy and happy Weaselette and yet always seem to see Potter in the throes of death?

Draco didn't feel particularly homicidal toward the boy and only occasionally had the urge to even hit the Gryffindor. Plus, he normally indulged his every urge to smack his boyfriend round the head and so there certainly wasn't a surfeit of repressed bile to thank.

Ginevra was surprisingly grinning and teased him as she strode along with her long legs, "So, what's this now? Malfoy's got the Sight, is that it? Tell me, is Harry even cuter in the future?"

"It's not the Sight!" He told her angrily, that harsh Malfoy expression looking more and more like his father's as he got older. Ginny had been glad not to see it on this new Draco - thinking that maybe he had finally gotten beyond that - but now that illusion as gone as well.

She understood his anger though, and felt an unreasonable thread of fear herself, when he explained, "Every time I see Harry, he's dying."

Ginny knew how serious the blonde was when he called Harry by his given name. Normally he would keep up his cool pretence and always call his boyfriend by his surname when other people were around, but this time he was truly worried - for Harry.

She blustered on, resembling her brother not a little, "Oh, well, I was just joking. You know that there are no spells that can give someone the Sight - it's only something you can be born with. I'm sure it's just part of some curse or something." She laughed self-consciously and tried to change the subject, "So, how are things with Hogwarts' hottest couple?"

Draco said shortly, "Everything's fine," but his attitude seemed a bit off. Sure, he was never the one to gush effusively about their great and wondrous love for the ages. But there was usually an extra gleam in his pale silvery eyes, which he only got when thinking about Harry, and the hint of a playful smirk lurking in his blank face. Today there was nothing.

"So," she pushed, "is that why you left the library in such a strop then?"

He stared back at her blankly, "A 'strop'? Excuse me, Ginevra, but Malfoy's are never stropy. We leave that to plebeians like Weasleys and Potters." She grinned and elbowed him in the ribs as they continued along, but she couldn't help wondering if things were really as okay as Draco said.

CURIOUS AND A BIT OF a busybody (as all good Weasleys ought to be), Ginny managed to catch Harry in the common room the next morning, before everyone started down for breakfast. She dragged him over to a set of corner chairs and pushed him down into one, before taking her place opposite him.

"Harry, I wanted a chance to talk with you seriously for a moment. How is everything?" she asked him earnestly, as he sat there looking flustered and uncomfortable.

"Er, everything?" Harry looked around desperately for help, but no one was going to save him from a determined Weasley woman. "Everything is just fine, Ginny. Um, thanks for asking?"

She eyed him narrowly and asked him with a determined glint, "So, everything is all right with you and Draco?"

Harry shut up. He certainly wouldn't share the information with Ginny, but it didn't seem too likely that Harry would be using the secret path they'd discovered to Draco's for any late night assignations, judging by Monday night. It was true that they had both been tired and absolutely beyond stressed, but that was still the first time Draco had ever let any opportunity slide between them. And then the next morning, yesterday, he'd had that nightmare or whatever, and had refused to even look Harry full in the face, let alone touch him. That innocent massage in the library had been the most action Harry had seen since the first article came out, and it certainly hadn't left the two of them on a positive note.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry wasn't aware of the melancholy expression on his face as he said, "Well, things have been a bit awkward between us, but that's all to be expected, right? There's a lot of pressure now - the newspapers are printing new garbage everyday and everyone is talking about the two of us... It really bothers Malfoy. You know how hard he tries to be perfect and how much his reputation means to him."

Ginny leaned closer in toward Harry, resisting the urge to take his hand or pat him on the head when he looked so lost. She asked him quietly, "But what about you? Doesn't it bother you as well?"

Harry looked a bit surprised, as if it were so unusual to be concerned for himself. He glanced quickly at Seamus, who was sitting with a group of sixth and seventh years, then said, "I guess it bothers me as well. I mean, I'm more used to having everyone hate me because I'm a parselmouth, or because Rita Skeeter's articles or my spreading 'lies' about the Dark Lords. Or any of the reasons that people are so eager to use." He paused and then told her, "Though I never really get used to the people I'd thought of as friends, suddenly hating me so completely."

Recalling that glance at Seamus, Ginny wondered if the Irish boy had been causing trouble for Harry. She would have to corner Ron later and see if he knew how the Upper boys were reacting.

"I've just been more worried about Malfoy," Harry continued, causing Ginny to bring her attention back to him with a slight frown. "This is all so much worse for him. He's Head Boy and has all the rest of these pressures, and I don't really have anything to complain about - with friends like you, I'll be fine. I'm not so sure about Malfoy."

Ginny was still unsure about how 'fine' Harry would be. She said, "But you would tell us if anything were wrong? You know, Malfoy worries about you as well - you have to watch out for yourself." Harry nodded unconvincingly and the prefect felt her unease growing.

HERMIONE AND RON WERE NEXT on the list. Ginny was officially on a mission now, and was determined to find out what was really going on for Harry and Draco. She managed to get the two of them to hold a private conference up in the Head Girl's room.

"I wanted to talk to you guys about Harry," she started out, immediately causing Hermione to exclaim in dismayed concern. Ginny quickly tried to backpedal and said, "No, it's just... I'm worried about how things are going between Harry and Draco."

Ron was, of course, the first to ask disbelieving, "Why?"

His girlfriend hit him none too lightly on the arm and scolded the ginger boy, "Oh, don't try to act like you don't worry as well."

He looked flustered and, seeing Hermione's angry expression, he muttered, "Well, sure. I'd be worried about Harry - he's my mate. But what do I care about Malfoy or, ugh, his relationship with the git?"

Ron shut up when Hermione fixed one of her McGonagall glares on him and the pause was enough for Ginny to interject, "You might care because Harry's relationship with 'the git' is currently make him miserable - though I've no idea what's going on. Both have tried to assure me that things are fine, but they both of them seem unhappy."

While her brother mumbled about how it was no surprise that Malfoy was making Harry miserable, Hermione told Ginny, "I knew that Harry seemed a bit off lately, but I thought it was just because the article. If it's been causing him problems with Draco... well... We'll just have to go on Friday and see."

"'We?'" Ron repeated, in trepidation.

"Yes, Ron. 'We.'" His girlfriend partnered her command with a fiercer glare and so Ron only thought to himself, not daring to speak aloud, Dammit.

FRIDAY CAME SLOWLY ENOUGH, EACH new day bringing new headlines and supposed interviews in the papers regarding Harry and Draco's romance. The renewed interest in the Malfoys had also spurned a more thorough investigation into Narcissa's disappearance, since the ministry had performed only the most perfunctory search necessary before Draco had come into the spotlight as the scandalous new Lord of Malfoy Manor.

Finally, though, the last classes of the week ended and the doubled group of Gryffindors went trooping down to the library after dinner. Hermione insisted that she was bringing Ron down to make him study for N.E.W.T.s and Ginny claimed that she could practice with Draco to get a leg up, since all the things he was learning would be introduced in her classes this year. Despite their convenient excuses, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit wary and uncertain about their sudden desire for group study as he led them all to meet with the Head Boy.

As soon as Harry opened the door to their private study room, Malfoy started speaking without looking up from his book, "Hey, Harry, would you mind-" He had turned around and spotted their audience. His face immediately blanked and he greeted the small crowd of Gryffindors, "Granger, Weasels. What an unexpected surprise."

Harry quickly spoke up, explaining in a rush, "Hermione-wants-Ron-to-study-for-N.E.W.T.s-and-Gin-wants-to-learn-the-Sixth-form-work." He sucked in a deep breath and said more normally, "What were you saying?"

"Nothing," Draco quickly switched tracks, "it was nothing."

And so they split up into rough groups to work and, although it might have been thanks only to Ginny's suspicions, Hermione thought that the other couple was acting a bit oddly. Their attitudes seemed a bit awkward and reserved, especially when compared with the previous week - there was definitely no comforting support or gentle encouragement this Friday. Instead they were acting something like a normal tutoring session between strangers. Of course, that might also be in part due to their larger audience this week.

Hermione looked over at her own boyfriend and felt a flush of pride when she saw that he was engrossed in his book. She'd already had to yell at him several times to make him do some work. The ginger boy turned to Harry and Draco, and started to make notes and diagrams as he discussed with the other boys.

Basking in the glow of the cooperation and the fellowship of study, she tuned into what the prefect was saying: "...so if we could even get Ginny to do a Wronskei Feint then the opposing Seeker would be taken care of and we could pull off the Bludger Bludgeon Break, assuming the other team was also distracted by the Wronskei and-"

"Ron."

The Gryffindor looked up when he heard his girlfriend's menacing tone, "Er... yes, Hermione?"

The Head Girl was gripping her text tight enough to whiten her knuckles as she ground out, "Are you not only neglecting your own work by making quidditch plays, but also preventing Harry and Malfoy from getting their work done? Do I need to remind you that Draco has to learn all the Sixth form material before the end of term?"

Properly chagrined, Ron tried to hide his quidditch diagrams with the book he had been reading from. Unfortunately for him, that only allowed Hermione to see the bold lettering emblazoning on the red leather text: 222 Terrifically Tricky Team Plays.

"Ronald Weasley!" The bushy-haired girl screeched as she seized the book, hitting him round the head with it - and doing a fair impression of the Weasleys' mother while she was at it. "You will start revision for you classes this instant or, so help me, you will learn just what powers the Head Girl has!"

Meekly picking up his copy of Mostely Potente Potions: Just like Moste Potente Potions but Without the Life Sentence!, he miserably propped the book up in front of him. Hermione noticed, of course, when he started doodling on his parchment instead of taking notes, but allowed it until Harry and Draco became caught up in his game (and apparently offended by some of his drawings) and started writing their own commentary on the scrap of parchment. Then she cleared her throat pointedly and watched magisterially as all three boys got back to work again.

Although this group session had been set up (unbeknownst to Harry himself) to examine how he and Draco interacted, Harry found himself watching the interplay between Ron and Hermione with some interest. They'd spent some time together during the summer without him (and he hadn't been at his most observant last year after Draco's 'death') and things had definitely changed between the two. Of course, his friends had been together almost as long as he had been with Draco - or, if one was counting the actual time spent together, and not long periods of imprisonment and mistaken death, then the Gryffindor couple had been together even longer than they - but it still surprised him to see this change.

Harry wondered to himself if the other couple had been excluding him - was that the reason he hadn't noticed before? Or had he been neglecting them, with all the drama in his life?

He was brought back to the present by Draco asking him a question about a bit of human transfiguration that allowed the caster to give a person the physical and sensory attributes of an animal; one of the early steps that lead to the Animagi transformation. Glancing at the blonde, Harry thought to himself, Maybe some change is just inevitable. Like this change.

Before long, Hermione was summoning caffeine by the tray load, as she had the weekend past, Ron gladly declined to try any - apparently Hermione had practiced this spell on him before. Ginny, when she saw the other three painfully slurping the hot drinks, at least deigned to try the coffee drink. After her first sip through, she quickly decided coffee was not for her; she would stick to tea.

Draco, surprisingly, showed his first sign of pleasure for the evening as he grimaced and grinned alternately at his bitter and sweet drink. He seemed to regard it as a personal achievement that he could choke down more of the Muggle drink than either Weasley - rather perverse of a Pureblood who claimed to hold Muggles in contempt. He even drank Harry and Hermione under the table as the night went on.

As midnight approached, Ginny stopped actively participating in Harry and Draco's practices and merely watched tiredly, her blinks growing heavier and her head sagging as she propped it up with her elbow. Though she might have survived through her O.W.L.s and though she might be known as the biggest partier in Gryffindor, she still was not accustomed to the hours the Seventh years kept. Shooting a bleary but conspirational look at Hermione, she finally staggered out of the library and off to the Gryffindor Tower. No one paid much heed to the fact that Ron had already long fallen asleep and was drooling on his book.

Although it was difficult for Hermione to spurn her revision with her books right in front of her, she did manage to spend some of the time discreetly watching the other couple. Harry was quietly reading a book on Muggle and Wizarding relations in North America. Draco was working on Defence Against the Dark Arts, although he knew more about the Dark Arts than the author of the text probably did. Occasionally he would interrupt Harry to clarify some point, but it seemed that all their hands-on practice was done for the evening.

The silence of the night pressed down on them, only occasionally interrupted by the brief wind of a page turning. Hermione was yawning frequently over her book, but every time she glanced up from her reading, the boys had not changed positions. They did not move more than was necessary to turn pages and Ron continued to sleep, face first in his potions text. No one seemed to notice when Hermione fell asleep herself at nearly three a.m., sprawled across the table.

It was over an hour later when Draco looked up from his text to realize that everyone else had fallen asleep. He blinked tiredly, raising his thin wrist to check his watch. It was nearly half-four. Across the table, the Weasel had fallen asleep, drooling as was expected of such an ill-bred sot. Granger had likewise collapsed against her ginger boyfriend.

Glancing over at Harry, who had dozed off with his glasses pressed against his face, Draco felt a strange spurt of emotion. He really did care about the boy (though he would never admit it) so much that his chest with it and he itched to wrap himself around the Gryffindor and eliminate even the small space between them.

Draco felt guilty about this new awkward distance between them, but he could not seem able to cross it. He didn't know what to do about the visions he was having. He didn't know how he could ever tell Harry the full truth about last spring. He didn't know how he could fix everything the articles in the paper had ruined. And now he didn't know how to react to Harry's seemingly serious interest in going to the Americas for University.

Everything was going wrong and now Potter would just leave, and Draco would be left alone with nothing but a ruined reputation and a large, empty manor.

Unless I went with him.

Harry had suggested much the same thing and Draco had of course refused. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't make it out there. Plus there was still his niggling unease about not telling Harry about...

Draco glanced over at the sleeping Gryffindor again, reaching out carefully to brush the silky black hair with the lightest touch of his long, thin fingers. He knew that the boy was wearing himself thin by working to exhaustion to help Draco learn his Sixth Year work. Would he be so patient, the Slytherin couldn't help wondering, if he had to help me learn Muggle life?

He tried to banish the thought, knowing it was pointless to even consider the idea. But he still remembered how easy and patient the Gryffindor had been with him during the summer. It doesn't matter, because it'll never happen. As if I would live among Muggles. As if he would forgive me when he finds out what I did.

Deciding it was definitely not the time for making weighty decisions. Draco closed his book and slid it back into his sack. He moved around the table and roughly pulled Ron's chair out from under him. The Gryffindor fell heavily to the ground with a surprised yelp and Draco clapped a hand over the boy's mouth.

While the Weasel stared up at him with wild eyes, Draco felt a smirk spreading across his face and he drawled, "Relax, Weasel. I was just waking you so that you might take Granger back to Gryffindor. She's also asleep."

Ron sat up carefully, shoving away the thin hand on his face. He saw Hermione and Harry collapsed across the table and was glad that even Madame Pince didn't seem to know about this room, because they were surely breaking more than a few rules by even being here.

The Gryffindor carefully picked up his girlfriend and the Head Girl hung limply in his long arms. He glanced over at Harry and his expression must've been clear, because he heard Malfoy say, "Don't worry about Potter. I'll see he has a place to sleep tonight. As if he'll be getting much sleep." The blonde smiled indecently and Ron looked ill, shaking his head in revulsion.

"Ugh. Thanks for that, Mafloy," the Gryffindor said. He shot one more disturbed look over his shoulder, then left.

Hesitating for a moment, Draco looked at the sleeping boy he'd been left alone with. He thought back to the last Friday, when they'd still been caught in the flush of their summer intimacy and eager to be together. Now it seemed as if they couldn't even be in the same room without feeling uncomfortable. Draco decided that he'd had enough of it (and he was trying to hide from the prickly knowledge that it might be his fault) and so he was going to have to do something to eliminate this damn awkwardness.

Casting a Lightening charm on Harry, the Head Boy wondered whether to go directly back to the Slytherin dorms. Even though everyone ought to be asleep at nearly five a.m. on a Saturday morning, he wasn't willing to take that chance after the events of the last week. If someone was waiting for him with an ambush, he didn't want any part of it tonight. Not with Harry.

He slowly eased Harry into his arms and lifted the small boy so as not to wake him and started off for the old Gryffindor dorms.

Despite his desire to somehow make things go back to the way they'd been in the summer, Draco couldn't help thinking that he could - and very probably should - send Harry packing to the Gryffindor's tower. But it was late and they were both tired; and if he were being honest (which he still hated to do), he didn't much feel like denying himself even the simple pleasure of sleeping with his arms around his own boyfriend. Even if it would all fall apart again as soon as they were both awake. Why go through all the trouble of being outed if he never got to reap any benefits?

Stopping in front of the door to the old Gryffindor dungeons, Draco shifted the boy in his arms so that Harry's weight rested on his right arm. Harry seemed far too frail as Draco buried his face in the boy's dark hair, and he reminded himself forcibly that it was only the Lightening charm that made it seem so. He tightened his hold and felt the Gryffindor's bony ribs - and was forced to admit to himself it might not be just the charm.

He picked up Harry's sleep-limp hand and wrapped it around the door handle. Curling his own fingers around the boy's, he pulled the door open, feeling a faint shock run through Harry's skin into him. Strange, that. Nodding briefly to the painting that must presumably be hanging on the dark wall, he hurried into the Head's room and, from there, to his own chambers.

Sighing in relief once they were safely back in his room, Draco let Harry slide onto the bed before cancelling the Lightening charm on the boy. He threw his own sack on the floor and quickly stumbled out of his day clothes and into pyjamas, then waved his wand over the Gryffindor so the boy was similarly attired.

Finally, he collapsed onto the bed and wrapped himself around his boyfriend, dragging the duvet up and over them. Hoping he would not awake to a scene like Tuesday's, he let his exhaustion win him over and fell asleep with Harry.