Adamo Redamo

Adamo Redamo (2/?)

Chapter 2 ~Hostis/Amicus~

Scattered tomes surrounded the huddled figures of Ron and Hermione in the library. Well, Ron..when he wasn't busy sneezing from the dust...begrudgingly flipped through the books Hermione had handed him. Every once in a while, she would squeal out some obscure spell and jot in down on her parchment. Figures, he thought ruefully; Leave it to Hermione to find a way to make this a learning experience. After watching Harry and....Malfoy...clutching together like baby kittens, he wanted nothing more than to, oh, find a spell to forever erase the memory from his mind?

Bollocks.

With a great sigh, Ron opened the large book he had just been handed: No, I don't forgive you, A Guide to the Unforgivable Curses. Rolling his eyes, he carefully flipped the wafer-thin pages until he saw it. Plain as day, here for all to read.

Adamo Redamo: See also, Imperius Curse. Undoubtedly strong and often deceiving curse....

As he continued to read, he felt the warm presence of Hermione press against his shoulder. There was nothing knew here, just a reworking of what Dumbledore had already explained to them. Yet, as he grew closer to the bottom of the page, his heart began to constrict.

See also: Riddle, Thomas Sr; Magahly, Wilhelmina; Potter, Harry; Malfoy, Draco.

"'Mione, is it possible that this..." He trailed off, pointing to where Harry's name was listed. Certainly he was aware that the book was magic...but this was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

Grabbing the book from his hands, Hermione ran her fingers over the names. "Wilhelmina Magahly? do you think...that could be You-Know-Who's mother?"

"Give me the chills, why don't you? Here, just..." Pointing his wand at the book, Ron slowly said the strange name and watched as the proper page opened for them. Hermione raised an amused eyebrow at this. "I have managed to make it to seventh year too, mind. You're not the only one with tricks up their sleeve."

"Apparently." She teased, smiling. Turning her attention back to the entry for Wilhelmina, Hermione was amazed. The words were disappearing faster than she could read them. In a matter of moments, the page was blankly mocking her. "Aparecium!" she shouted, tapping the book with her wand three times. Nothing...and then this:

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, do not allow Madame Pince to catch the two of you reading this book. Please look up the following charm "Commendo Lateo" and return to the infirmary."

"A charm?" Ron sputtered, wearing a confused expression. "Harry's about to undergo...well, Malfoy, and she has us digging up obscure-"

"Protection Charms, Ron. Commendo Lateo is a powerful protection charm, used solely for the safety and well-being of others...but I don't see how this could help." Placing the book down, she rubbed at her eyes tiredly. Sure, being cuddled beside Ron all night had its merits, but she longed for some private time with her bed.

That and the fact that McGonagall was obviously finding crafty ways to get rid of them.

Yet...

Ron peered at her from behind the charm book, shaking his head. "I dunno, 'Mione, this sounds like rather complicated magic. We'd do well to just take this to McGonagall and leave it at that."

Hermione nodded, already placing the necessary books into her bag. Noticing her weary expression, Ron wrapped an arm around her waist. Beneath the heavy robe she was wearing, she could feel her skin tingle at his touch. Lavender had once told her that the body was conditioned to release pheromones and pleasurable feelings, when accompanied by the presence of someone you fancy. Unabashedly leaning into Ron, she bit back a smile. Pleasurable, indeed!

* * * * *

On the opposite side of the Castle, things were not as...pleasurable. In fact, they were the furthest from pleasurable one could be. Pacing in a mad circle, Harry tried his best to ignore the suffocating feeling that had crept into his chest. His body screamed for him to do something...to grab onto anything belonging to Draco. A foot even! He hated feeling so helpless, so dependent on someone. He supposed his independent upbringing had something to do with it, but could not muster the concentration required for proper brooding.

The sooner this...physical contact was removed from the equation, the better.

Finding himself unable to take a deep breath, Harry realized that it was either touch Draco, or be forced into Madame Pomfrey's mouth-to-mouth. Finding Draco the least disturbing of the two, although not by much, he launched himself onto the other boy’s bed.

As if some by some grand unspoken command, they both reached for each other at the same time. The elation was back, Harry noticed, as well as a feeling of extreme...desire. It's only the curse; It is messing with my mind. Shaking his head, he allowed his gaze to fall on Draco. Obviously feeling some sort of mixed emotions as well, his eyes were shut tightly.

"I...just wanted to say..t-thank you, Potter. I don't quite know what that was out there," Draco whispered, his cheeks flushing.

"You're welcome," Harry replied, with a long sigh. "And don't worry, I'd never tarnish your reputation by letting anyone know you actually apologized." The last part was said with a serious tone, but Harry's face held traces of humor that were picked up by Draco. They shared the smallest of laughs, but it passed too quickly for Harry to even be sure it had happened at all. "Can't say I'm looking forward to seven hours away from you." He mumbled, before realizing what he had just said.

Rather, how it was worded.

Upon seeing Draco's amused, smug grin, Harry backpedaled quickly. "No, I meant your body...arrgh...you know what I meant, Malfoy!"

Draco sighed, shaking his head. "Put the shovel down, Potter; You've a deep enough hole already, I should say."

Blushing up to the roots of his hair, Harry simmered in his own embarrassment. "On the other hand, perhaps seven hours isn't quite long enough."

"Now, now Harry," Draco drawled, "It's perfectly normal reaction. I can hardly blame you, really. I just...exude charm."

Harry snorted. "Oh, you exude something, Malfoy."

They were quiet for a moment, both wondering how they were, in fact, going to make it through the next seven hours.

"They still haven't told us who's behind this," Draco said, matter-of-factly. "Yet, they know all about this...curse. It doesn't make sense."

No, it doesn't. Harry had to agree. "I've been getting flashes of what happened, and I think I remember seeing...something, or someone dressed in black moving towards us. It all happened so bloody fast."

"Why did you do it, anyway? I know I'm not up there with Weasel and Granger on your list, so...why?" Draco's voice was so quiet, that Harry had to lean in closer just to hear him. It was horribly distracting.

Trouble here was, Harry didn't know himself. He hadn't had time to ponder the whys and how’s, only the fact that he could not let anyone get hurt, if he could help it. Was it as simple as all that? "You needed help," He replied, shrugging helplessly. "We've taken DADA together, and I know how weak your Patronus is..."

"Oh, so I was just some charity case then?"

Harry shook his head. "What else could you be? We aren't exactly friends, Draco."

That seemed to shut him up, Harry mused. What did he expect? Honestly, when he really thought about it, Harry didn't hate Malfoy; He just didn't like him very much. He reserved his undying hate for people that deserved it. Like the Dursley’s. Like Voldemort. Not school bullies like Draco Malfoy.

"I'm not entirely certain that I wouldn't have helped you either, as much as it hurts me to admit it," Draco admitted, dropping his head to rest on his knees. "Although, I do doubt I could conjure up a frightening enough Patronus." In spite of the fact that he was actually making fun of himself, Draco laughed.

Recalling the unending days of working with Professor Lupin on his Patronus, Harry knew it wasn't an easy charm to master. Besides, he doubted whether Draco had a happy enough memory. "You know the first successful Patronus I'd ever conjured was unwittingly let loose on you and those two goons you associate with."

A look of confusion passed over Draco's face before he finally remembered. "The Quidditch game! I think...Potter that was, by far, the most frightening thing I'd ever seen. I'll bet that Goyle wet his bed for a solid fortnight after."

Neither of them would ever admit it, but it felt good to have a civil conversation. Harry remembered what Hermione said, that it took the same amount of emotion to hate, as it did to love.

Not that he loved Malfoy.

Now, they were awaiting McGonagall arrival and the end of the beginning, so to speak. As if on cue, their Deputy Headmistress entered with Hermione and Ron along with her. Dumbledore entered behind them, locking the door. Their expressions were somber, and it sent shivers down Harry's spine. What else could there be to this situation? Did he even want to know? He felt Draco tense beside him, and gave and encouraging squeeze without realizing it.

"It warms my heart to see that you've not killed each other yet." Professor McGonagall quipped, fixing them with a thin-lipped smile.

"We're managing alright." Draco admitted, grudgingly.

"We've been thinking ahead to what will happen after you're released. There are several charms that will work in your favor, but only one that is certain to work effectively." Dumbledore explained, sitting on the foot of the boys' bed. "Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will kind enough to find the relevant details for us, and I'll allow them to explain it to you."

Draco rolled his eyes, but sat up to listen after Harry squeezed his hand a bit harder than normal.

Hermione, obviously working on nervous energy, stepped closer to the bed. "The charm is called Commendo Lateo and is, essentially, a protection charm. It's not altogether different from the Fidelus charm that your parents used, Harry, but it does not require a secret keeper, per say. With the Commendo charm, a person of your choosing acts as a 'guardian', committing themselves to your protection and safety."

Nodding, Harry tried to process everything she had laid out for them. "And if we don't use this charm? What happens if we do nothing at all, and let the curse run its course?" He asked, quietly.

Dumbledore sighed, smiling beneath his beard. "You, literally, hold very strong and powerful magic in your hands. Go on, both of you, open that door without your wands."

Exchanging skeptical looks, Harry and Draco shouted an unsure "Alohomora!" and watched as the door to the loo nearly flew from its hinges. "Oh." Draco replied, in a squeak.

"Your power also makes you vulnerable to those who would love to use it for evil." Dumbledore continued, somber as ever. "That is why Commendo Lateo must be performed. I suggest you spend the next seven hours thinking of the person you trust the most. We must have your answer by then, so we can begin as soon as possible."

Taking several deep breaths, Harry uncurled his fingers from Draco's. The pain returned vigorously, but it was not as bad as it had been before. At least, not yet. Part of him was going to miss the easy way he had been able to talk to Draco, but he knew that they could not go on like this. Nodding at Dumbledore, he walked forward and out of the room.

* * * * *

Not sure, exactly, where he was, Harry tried to calm his racing heart. With the soft words spoken by Hermione, he felt déjà vu all over again in a way. Here he was, having to place his safety, not to mention the safety of Draco, into someone’s hands. But who? He couldn’t ask Ron…that would be highly predictable. He didn’t have many other good friends other than Ron and…

Hermione.

Stubborn to a fault, Hermione was perfect. Yet, could he bring himself to place her in such danger? She will be anyway, you forget. Yes, Harry knew that no matter whom he chose, Hermione and Ron would be right there on the front lines with him. Right then, but would she even agree to it? Oh, Harry knew that she would want to do anything to help, but how far did it reach?

Worse yet, Harry knew that although the decision he’d have to make was difficult, at least he had two good friends to choose from. What of Draco?

Arrgh…too many questions, not enough answers.

All that, and he felt like running back to Draco and…

What? And what, exactly?

Pulling a pillow over his face, he tried to push the image of Draco Malfoy from his minds eye. It wasn’t easy, considering that every element in his being was screaming out for the other boys touch. Gah…why couldn’t it have been someone else? Anyone else?!

Had it really only been two days since all of this happened? He couldn’t even remember why he’d been out that night, anyway. Harry shuddered to think what might have happened to Draco, had he not shown up. Who was that man in black that had advanced on them? Had he imagined that? How did Dumbledore know what curse had been cast? His mind was racing round in circles, nearly as fast as his beating heart. Willing himself to relax, he thought again of Madame Pomfrey’s offer to give him a sleeping draught. It would certainly make the next…six and a half hours…go by faster. Before he had a chance to call her, Dumbledore’s distinguished face peeked around his door.

“May I speak with you, Harry?” The Headmaster inquired, steeping into the doorway. At Harry’s nod, he approached the bed. “I’ve been worried about you, Harry. This is no easy decision to make, by any stretch of the imagination.”

Harry remained silent, focusing on the green, nubbly duvet draped across his feet.

“I do know that you will make the right decision, but I feel that your concern lies…elsewhere.”

Jerked from his reverie by the words, Harry nodded. “I’ve two good friends who would protect me from anything. Draco has…nobody. I can’t think of one person who would give their life for him. It scares me.” And it honestly did.

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you, Harry,” Dumbledore mused, waving off Harry’s inevitable interruption. “These things have a way of working themselves out. I daresay you’ve found someone.”

Nodding, Harry pulled the duvet around his shoulders. “My first instinct was to pick Ron, but something about that felt wrong. I decided to ask Hermione, since she would know exactly how to hex her way out of mostly anything. She’s brilliant, you know.” He was babbling, he knew it, and his teeth had started to chatter. Lovely.

“I’ll send for Miss Granger.” Dumbledore said, smiling in mirth and using his wand to light the fireside along the wall. Its magical flames danced and jumped, radiating warmth. Harry smiled in relief, curling up on his side and not thinking of Draco Malfoy.

* * * * *

“Can you kindly close the ruddy window? Or am I to catch my death?” Draco growled, gathering a large, red quilt around himself. Figures that Harry was the one that had been spirited off elsewhere, leaving him in the bloody infirmary. One large window had been propped open, allowing a messenger owl to deliver Madame Pomfrey’s mail, and the icy wind seemed to be reaching down into his very bones.

Fixing him with a glare worthy of Snape, the witch promptly shut the window and placed a noxious-looking potion on his bedside table. “You should get some rest, it will ease the pain.” She informed him, scurrying about in a blur of activity.

Oh, no…he could not go to sleep. Was she mad? Sure, maybe Potter could curl up like a baby and sleep…he had friends who-

No, don’t think about it.

He could imagine having to explain this situation to his Slytherin housemates. If they didn’t kill him first, they would run directly to his Father. Then Lucius would kill him. Either way, he was fucked. There was only one person he thought might care if he lived or died, and that was Harry. That was just the type of person Harry was: Loyal, protective, and honorable. He was the anti-Malfoy. The thought made him giggle a bit.

Problem there? He couldn’t ask Harry. So then who?

Goyle got confused when changing classes sometimes; He could not begin to wrap his pea brain around something like this. And Crabbe…well, brute strength is useful in a fight, but would he really trust the boy with his life?

No in any language is still no, right?

Right, well there was no way he was putting his life in the hands of any of the Slytherins. He really didn’t know any Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs…well, okay that left him with only one option.

Gryffindor.

While they disliked him immensely…they were at least trustworthy. At least, the three he knew were. He went through them one by one, trying to remember which of them hated him the least. He knew there was still one Weasley…the girl who always had Seamus Finnigan hanging all over her. Those three simpering girls that fawned over Professor Trelawney were out of the running. That left well, nobody.

Nobody except Ron Weasley; Someone who would rather kiss Snape than help him, he was sure.

It can’t hurt to ask.

That is, provided that Weasley didn’t punch him out cold.

“Will you tell Professor Dumbledore that I need to speak with him?” He asked Madame Pomfrey, in his best, most polite voice. His mother would have even been proud. She

might have nodded, Draco couldn’t tell. All he knew was that in a matter of moments, Dumbledore was there.

“If he agrees, I chose Ron Weasley.” He told Dumbledore without preamble.

“Harry was very worried about you, Draco.”

Worried? About me?

“Is that so hard to believe, that people would care about you?”

Draco mimicked a fish for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing in a rather amusing way. “Is he…okay? I mean, I was worried too, I just-“

A smile. “Yes, he’s quite alright. He should be asleep…as will you after you’ve spoken to Mr. Weasley, I presume?”

Already dreading the experience, Draco nodded. “Can you send for him? I’d like to know what my options are, should he refuse.” His voice sounded frightened and small, something he wasn’t used to at all. It was wretched, feeling this way. If Ron and Harry and Hermione could-

Take away the fear?

“Something like that.” He whispered to himself. Wanting to bury his head inside the blankets and wait for the world to pass, he focused instead on the sound of Dumbledore’s retreating footsteps. Inside, he was keenly aware of the pain that pulsed through him with nearly every breath. It was…it felt like a part of him were missing. There were tingles, where Harry’s hand had been pressed to his chest. All along his hands, where the Quidditch-callused hands had gripped his.

“Okay, not going to think about that.”

“About what?”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Draco pulled the covers back to reveal an amused-looking Ron.

“Er…nothing. I was just…thinking. That’s all.” Cursing his traitorous stammering, Draco tried to act his calm, usual self. “I suppose you might know why I’ve asked you here?”

Looking incredibly uncomfortable, Ron sat down in one of the chairs near the bed. “At first, I thought it’d been Harry who called to see me. I was expecting that, actually. So, in a way, I guess I do know. You want me to be your protector, Malfoy?” There was no malice in his voice, to Draco’s surprise.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and find his voice. “I know you don’t like me, Ron, but I do need your help. There aren’t many people I can trust outright.”

Ron had to agree. “I guess I understand that. Other than Harry and Hermione, my trust only extends to my family. Pity anyone who had to put their life in the hands of Neville Longbottom.” Ron’s attempt to lighten the mood had worked a bit, as Draco felt himself smile at the shared joke. “I suspect Harry’ll choose Hermione. Even I’d be afraid to go up against her-“

“Mmm Hmm, that why you’re always gazing at her?” Draco teased, enjoying the exasperated look on Ron’s face.

“Oh, you know what I meant. She can out duel any of us, I dare say. Besides, if all else fails, she can always whack you upside the head with the copy of Hogwarts: A History she always seems to have handy.”

Draco was quiet, not having enough information to share in this joke. He didn’t know Hermione all that well, only enough to poke fun at her whenever circumstances arouse. “Do you fight a lot?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Sighing, Ron ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve actually had long stretches of time where we didn’t speak to one another. We are not as perfect as you would think, if that is what you’re asking. I prayed that ‘Mione would be sorted into any other house besides Gryffindor. How we became friends? I’ve no idea.”

“Why did you agree, really? I know that you hate me-“

“No, I don’t hate you…not in the way you think, anyway.”

“Explain?” Pulling the quilt around him, Draco winced, as a wave of pain seemed to seep directly into his very bones.

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “At first, I’d say it was jealousy. You know all about my financial state, and lack thereof, and I could see that you weren’t exactly hurting for money. When you’re forced to use a wand held together with spellotape…”

“Nobody should be jealous of me, for any reason.” Draco muttered, almost under his breath. Hadn’t you wanted that though? Hadn’t you tossed the Weasley’s finances in Ron’s face nearly everyday? “I’m a prat. Even I wouldn’t help myself right now.”

Taken back by Draco’s outpouring of civility and honesty, Ron could only shake his head. “You do need help, and I’m willing to help you. Although, I do believe anyone would be hard-pressed to harm you with Harry at your side. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than let anyone harm his friends.”

“We’re not exactly friends, Draco.” The words Harry’d spoken earlier that day seemed to tarnish the silver lining in that cloud. He wasn’t friends with Harry, was he?

“I don’t think Harry considers me a friend. We’re bound to one another, but-“

“Couldn’t we all do with a few more friends, Draco? Would it be entirely awful for you to be my friend? Or Harry’s?” Sure, a few days ago, Ron would have preferred to have eye of newt for breakfast than be nice to Malfoy, but things were changing, alliances had to be made anywhere and everywhere, if they were going to come out of all of this in one piece. Draco had yet again affected the fish face, and stared at Ron in shock. “N-no, I think…that would be, well I wouldn’t object to being friends.”

Just call me: The Boy Who Stammered.

Ron simply nodded, getting to his feet and extending his hand. “Get some sleep, we’re going to need it.” He said, mildly.

Shaking the proffered hand, Draco looked miserably at the sleeping draught. “Thank you, for everything.” Ron simply smiled and left the room.

* * * * *

”You’re certain that they’re safe, then?”

Staring at the man before him, Albus Dumbledore nodded. “Quite. Although I do believe we could have done this without the curse.”

A chuckle. “You honestly see them becoming friends on their own? And what better way to do it, with the very curse that was his undoing?”

“You would have done well to inform me before hand. Whom exactly did you use to carry out the curse? Hagrid found his wand out in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Noceo Parkinson. He was…the least likely to go running back to Voldemort.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up. “Pansy’s father? Last I’d heard, he was hiding out in America!”

Waving him off, the other man continued. “The only danger that remains is Wormtail. Eliminate him, and we’ll have a better chance. As will Draco and Harry.”

Considering this, Dumbledore nodded. “I will send for Black and Lupin. They will be, of course, doubtful of your change of heart, as I was.”

“Of course, I would expect no less. Use whatever means necessary to convince them, Albus.”

“The protection charm will be performed in the morning. I will expect you back here tomorrow night, Lucius.”

* * * * *

The ancient hallways, with their lighted torches and whispering portraits seemed eerily quiet as Draco made his way towards Dumbledore’s office. He’d been freed from his little prison that morning, with explicit instructions from Dumbledore himself. He was to stop and gather Harry first, and then they would begin the protection charm. It had been quite the relief to wake up both free of pain, and of the insane need to want to wrap himself around Harry like a blanket. Oh, he could still feel the curse crackling inside of him, mocking him in the way curses were known to do. No, it wasn’t gone yet. In fact, he was rather nervous about seeing Harry this morning. What if McGonagall was wrong and they were destined to be attached at the hip for all eternity? He shuddered, trying to picture it.

He didn’t exactly swing that way, and even if he did…it was Harry Potter for fucks sake!

Finally reaching the room that had served as Harry’s ‘prison’, he paused for a moment outside the door. He saw Harry and Ron, talking around their breakfast of toast and pumpkin juice. Feeling his stomach turn over, he recalled the bland porridge Pomfrey had insisted he digest. Figures Potter would get whatever he wanted; He usually did. He found that was surprised by the rather frank conversation he’d had with Ron the night before. All in all, Ron Weasley wasn’t the waste of space he’d convinced himself of. In fact, if things were different, he could see himself being friends with the two boys.

What am I saying? Things are different!

Yeah, and it looked as if they were going to have to be friends in order to make it out alive. Barring any outbursts from his rather excitable father, Draco fully intended on doing just that.

Stepping closer to the door, however, he wasn’t prepared for what he heard.

* * * * *

“Look, Harry. I know you like…er-“

“Guys, Ron?”

”Yeah. Anyway, I’m worried about you. I know that you don’t really feel that way about…Draco. You don’t right?”

“No, Ron.”

“Good! I mean, he’s a…well, he can be a decent person…”

“But?”

”He’d break your heart, and then I’d have to break his face.”

“I see.”

“And seeing as how I’m supposed to protect him with my life…you can see where this is going, right?”

A sigh. “Don’t worry Ron, Malfoy isn’t my type.”

* * * * *

And why the hell not? I’m everyone’s type! Bewildered, and more than a bit disturbed by his reaction, Draco cleared his throat and entered the room. He didn’t miss the blush that had crept into Harry’s face when they made eye contact, and decided to chalk it up to Potter weirdness as he always did. So what if Harry liked guys? It didn’t mean that…

It didn’t mean anything.

* * * * *

Willing himself to calm down, Harry gulped down the remainder of his pumpkin juice. He didn’t want to think about the fact that Draco could have heard his secret…Ron and Hermione were the only two people who knew outright. Although, he suspected that Seamus and Dean had some idea, since all the girls they had introduced him to were brushed aside with a wave of the hand. No, he’d figured it out last year that he was more attracted to men than women. He hadn’t lied to Ron though…Draco just wasn’t his type. He was too…whiny, or something. A brat, really. A sexy brat, but-

Arrgh…! Right then, thinking of Snape in a sexy nightdress usually worked at times like this.

“Morning boys.” Draco said, looking extremely uncomfortable. Harry could hardly blame him, but it was fun to see him squirm. Draco Malfoy was rarely caught off-guard and you had to take full advantage of those times.

Ron nodded in greeting, waving his wand over the now-empty plate of toast. He then handed it to Draco, motioning for him to sit down. “I’ve had the Pomfrey porridge, and from the look on your face, I assume the crazy old bat tried her best to shove it on you as well.” He joked, smiling.

Secretly happy that Ron was still being civil to him, he took the proffered plate and shoved a piece into his mouth. “She swears that the house-elves are spoiling us, and plans on speaking to-“

“Professor Dumbledore about encouraging unhealthy eating habits?” Harry cut in, having heard the speech more times to count.

Barking out a nervous laugh, Draco smiled at them. “I daresay you’ve been in the infirmary more times than any seventh year, Harry. They’ll probably name a wing after you when we leave Hogwarts.”

Harry groaned, leaning back into the pillows. “I swear, she delights in the fact that we injure ourselves. Ever see that predatory gleam her eyes get when something truly dreadful happens? It’s chilling, really.”

All three shared a companionable chuckle, delighting in the ease of it. When you took away their names, upbringing and rival-house-ness, what remained were three guys who could, if they worked at it, become friends. They were still smiling when Hermione entered, carrying a vast assortment of books. She cocked her head to the side, considering them. “What’s so funny?”

Draco took a sip of his juice before answering. “You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of Hogwarts: A History by any chance?” He asked, trying not to giggle.

Tossing the tomes to the bed, narrowly missing Harry’s outstretched legs, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Oh, not you too, Malfoy!”

Ron, who had been biting his lip, began the chain reaction giggle that spread to all of them. Draco smiled at her, a genuine smile. “Sorry, I think these two are rubbing off on me.” He winked at Ron, pleased to finally understand the joke.

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm again, and directed his one-track mind away from thoughts of rubbing anything on Malfoy. “What are all of these, ‘Mione?”

Brushing her hair back into a ponytail, she sat in a chair beside Draco. “Madame Pince gave me permission to withdraw several books about the Unforgivable Curses. I’m hoping I can find something that will help.” She explained, summoning a tiny book called “Holding onto your Mind: How to Overcome the Imperius Curse.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You do realize that it’s 4 in the morning, right?”

Waving him off, she quickly gathered up the remaining books. “Right, and we need to get going. Dumbledore was insistent that this charm be performed before sunrise.”

Sobering then, they all got to their feet. Outside, it was darker than Harry had ever seen it. No moon, no stars…just an unfathomable blankness that extended from ground to horizon. Yet, with his friends around him…yes, even Draco…he felt lighter and happier than he had in a while. Together, they made their way to the office of the one man sworn to protect them through this.

* * * * *

Muttering the password to the Gargoyle posted outside Dumbledore’s office, Draco led the rest of the group inside. He was honestly…well, there wasn’t a word for it, but pleased would do in a pinch…that they had all managed to have a conversation that hadn’t involved insults or snide remarks of ones parentage. Even good-naturedly teasing Granger had been fun, since he could see that even Harry and Ron did it. Besides, the pumpkin juice had soothed the rock that was previously known as porridge inside his stomach.

Dumbledore watched them with a curious eye. No doubt wondering when they were going to reach for each other’s throats. “Now then, since we’re all present and accounted for. I’d like you all to follow me.” Dumbledore spoke, getting to his feet.

Draco wondered why they had to come all the way here first. Why not just meet…wherever it was they were headed? More weirdness, he mused. A pit of anxiety decided to make a home for itself inside his stomach at that point, and it had nothing to do with juice this time. Everyone remained silent as they followed their Headmaster through the winding, ephemeral hallways. As always, the portraits whispered as they walked past, but he noticed that they all seemed particularly peevish this morning.

Harry was keeping a respectable distance from him, standing on the opposite side of Hermione, and Draco wondered what could be going on inside his mind. Smiling at a confused-looking suit of armor that kept pacing around in circles, he found himself wondering what Harry’s type was. He obviously didn’t go for the blond, handsome type.

Why do you care?

Biting back a groan, he willed himself to not look over at Harry. He didn’t care, not really. It was just, if he was going to be Harry’s friend, there were certain things he wanted to know. Did he prefer red heads? Fellow Gryffindors? Seamus Finnigan?.

Forcing the thought, and resulting imagery from his mind, he continued to follow Dumbledore, as he led them inside what appeared to be a room nearly the size of the Great Hall. Of course, Hogwarts held many secrets. Rooms that only appeared on Thursdays, staircases that led you down endless corridors…they were all commonplace here.

This room, however, seemed to have more than a few secrets of its own. About as tall as it was wide, it reminded Draco of how the Great Hall would look, if students actually lived inside it. Beds were pushed up against walls, draped in the customary way. Three

large fireplaces helped take the chill out of the otherwise chilly room. “Wow.” He heard Ron whisper, as he stepped up beside him.

“Suppose you would be able to find a new room everyday for the next 50, if you looked hard enough.” Harry retorted.

“Indeed.”

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore cleared a large circle in the center of the room. “Your trust in one another, and commitment to protect, in face of what we know will be trying times, brings me no small amount of pride. Although this is born from necessity, it’s no less powerful, or permanent. The actions you take here today will last beyond the grave. If there are any objections, any hesitations, please speak up. The lives of Harry and Draco depend on it.”

Draco saw Hermione take a deep breath and glance over at Harry. “Thank you.” Harry mouthed, and Hermione smiled. It was an awesome power, having true friends.

“No objections, Professor.” Hermione said, clearly and calmly. Ron followed, standing beside Draco with the same determination in his eyes.

Yes, that really is Ron Weasley giving his life to protect me. Will wonders ever cease?

There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Very well then.

Reach into your robes, and carefully remove the charm you will find there.” Dumbledore instructed them.

The small, wooden charm was not much to look at, Draco observed. He didn’t even begin to wonder why, or how, the charm got there to begin with. Some things were better left unexplained.

* * * * *

“Commendo Lateo is very advanced magic. Had you been any younger, I would have had grave reservations about you attempting it. The charms you hold inside your hands will be one of the many ways you will be able to communicate with each other over the bond.”

Stealing a glance at Draco, Harry held his charm up to the candlelight. He’d felt the other boy’s gaze on him since they’d left his room, and did his best to ignore it. Hermione had entwined her hand inside his, squeezing gently as Dumbledore continued

“Miss Granger, please step forward.”

Everyone watched as the 17 year-old witch walked into what appeared to be a solid wall of light. Closing her eyes, she held tightly to the charm inside her hand. Harry was next, feeling himself pulled forward by the light. Everything that happened after that was on instinct alone. Dappled light played upon them, casting everything outside their circle with an ethereal glow. Hermione raised her hand to his, speaking the charm in a calm, clear voice. “Commendo Lateo!”

For an instant, he felt as if his insides were being burned. Searing heat radiated where their hands touched, and in the charms themselves. Looking sideways, he could see Ron and Draco in a similar state. In the strange light, Harry mused, Draco looked almost like an angel. His hair, a bright combination of blonde and silver, shimmered into a halo. Trying to force his eyes away, he directed his attention to Hermione.

He could feel the powerful charm pulling both he and Hermione towards Ron and Draco, and tried to resist at first. Having that prove to be futile, he reached for her free hand and they walked across the circle.

Dumbledore’s concerned voice rang out in the cavernous room. “Finite Incantatum!” He shouted, watching as his efforts went bouncing off the circle of light. His concerned look made Harry’s hair stand on end. Very rarely did this man show emotion, but there it was…written all over his weary face.

Looking directly at Draco, Harry spoke the words “Commendo Lateo” himself, raising his charm high into the air. Draco followed, as did Ron and Hermione. Brilliant white light seemed to explode; showering them with its white gold sparks. All in one moment, hundreds of thoughts invaded his mind. Hermione’s wonder and fright…Ron’s utter disbelief…Draco’s honest fear.

//What’s happening?//

//How do we stop this thing?//

//Finite Incantatum! Finite Incantatum!//

Finally, it was Hermione’s unspoken commands that released them from the charm’s hold. Stumbling back onto the ground, Harry fought hard to find his breath. Had he been breathing the whole time? How in the world had he been able to hear them in his mind?

Dumbledore rushed forward, urging them to all have a seat on one of the many couches. “I…apologize for that. I had expected some time in between stages to inform you of the…shall we say, side affects of this charm.”

Hermione nodded. //Sure, he tells us now.//

//”Mione?//

//Yes, Harry?//

//Private conversation, or can anyone join?//

//Bollocks!//

Fixing them all with a smile, Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, as you’re well aware, you can speak telepathically. This does mean, however, that you will be able to read each others minds like an open book. Caution and discretion are of the utmost concern. Emotions can be sensed as well, especially when they are in the extreme. Not only does this magic allow you to speak over long distances, it is one of your most important tools for effectively protecting one another.”

They were all silent then, trying to best process all the information. “Anything else you didn’t tell us, then?” Harry asked, toying with the charm in between his thumb and index fingers.

* * * * *

Draco smiled, as Harry voiced what they were all feeling. He’d felt it to, the overwhelming sense of…having someone other than yourself inside your mind. It had been ever so fleeting, but Draco knew that he felt Harry’s honest concern for him. For reasons he wasn’t ready to think about, this made him want to smile and…give Harry a hug, or something equally as un-masculine and wretchedly un-Malfoy. Shaking it off, he glanced at Harry who, having been caught looking himself quickly shifted his eyes to the floor.

“When its needed, Commendo Lateo works in many ingenious ways,” Dumbledore began. “Should one of you be injured, the remaining three can protect and heal the injured party until help can be found. Touch your hand to the charm and ‘think’ or say the name of the person you are looking for, and they will be lead directly to you. I suggest you refrain from using that particular aspect during classes, however.”

Ron shook his head, “I’d forgotten all about the real world. This has been the longest couple of days.”

Nodding, Draco wondered what would happen once he stepped back down inside the dungeons. Had gossip already spread throughout the school, as it was known to? What excuse could he possibly give? //Oh, I’ve been hexed into-//

//Into what, exactly? I’d love to hear this, since we all need to stick to one story.//

Glaring at Harry, he shrugged. “I don’t…know. How much, if any, of this do we discuss with other people?”

Dumbledore tugged thoughtfully on his beard, staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace. “The school has been informed that an especially dangerous attack was attempted outside the grounds. Given our current state of affairs, this was the most plausible explanation, not to mention closest to the truth. You were both attacked by Death Eaters.”

Draco saw Harry’s shiver, and felt a pang of fear. Did his father know what happened? How was he going to explain this to Lucius? //He’ll kill me!//

//That WILL NOT happen//

The conviction in Harry’s ‘voice’, brought the happy-huggy feeling back. Doing his best to attempt certain thoughts from being shared with the others, he blushed when he realized it hadn’t worked. Ron smirked at him, mouthing “happy-huggy?”

//Jealous, Ron?//

Sensing that something was afoot, Dumbledore stood up to get their attention. “Now, your last mission should prove interesting. I want you to practice a bit with the bond, get into some, shall we say, innocent trouble. You can feel free to return to your own rooms, attend classes as usual. Things should not be that different all around. Should something strange happen, alert your head of house or Madame Pomfrey, if needed. Your first class today is potions, am I correct?”

//Shall we mess with Snape this morning?//

//Do you even have to ask?//

//He’s sure to give us detention!//

//Can we get breakfast first?//

* * * * *

Stepping into the Great Hall, Harry, Hermione and Ron couldn’t help sneak glances over at Draco. It felt…odd to see him sitting there with his housemates. Poking her fork into a stack of waffles, Hermione accidentally upturned an entire container of maple syrup onto Ginny, who was seated beside her. “Oh! Oh my…I’m so sorry!” Quickly clearing away the mess with a flick of her wand, she smiled at Ginny’s pained expression.

“Daydreaming about Ron again, were you?” The sixth-year asked with a wink.

//Actually…//

//Oooo…now this I have to hear…do go on, Granger.//

Instantly her eyes locked onto the gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. He was feeding strawberries to Pansy.

//Feeding your dog, Malfoy?//

“Good one, ‘Mione.” Harry whispered, giggling.

Hermione smiled at Draco’s glare. She could tell he wanted to smile, but a smile was not something seen much at the Slytherin table. Unless it was a sneer, of course. “She is truly vile.”

//You’ve never had to wake up beside her..// Draco shot back, sending the three Gryffindors a minute smile.

“Ugh, now that made me lose my appetite. Harry, Ron, I need to see McGonagall before potions-“

“What now?” Harry asked, slightly agitated.

//A little more research. Nothing you need to worry about, honestly.//

Harry nodded, waving to her as she left the table.

Across from Harry, however, Ginny Weasley wondered if her brother and two friends had finally gone mad.

~*~*~*~*~