Adamo Redamo

Adamo Redamo

Chapter 4

You make it easy

Harry could feel the words forming on his tongue, but his mouth just would not cooperate. Sitting before him, each wearing shared expressions of shock, were the three people who he knew to be Draco, Hermione and Ron and yet…they weren’t.

“Ron, you…uh?” he managed, staring fixedly at his best friend.

Ron remained silent, his eyes wide as saucers. Staring down at his own hands, Harry desperately wished for a mirror. Apparently, all four of them had the same idea, resulting in a rather mad dash to the loo.

“Would you move over, you vain git,” Ron muttered, pushing Harry out of the way with his elbow.

“Ron, you do realize that it’s me behind you, right?” Harry teased, taking advantage of Ron’s distraction to get a good look at himself in the mirror. The image reflected there nearly made him faint. Well, no wonder…

After a lot of shoving and misplaced elbows, the four of them stared into the mirror as one. Hermione reached out a shaking hand and touched the surface of the mirror, just to be certain the image was, indeed, real. “We…look-“

“We look good” Draco breathed, staring at himself in true Draco fashion.

And they did. Harry took a moment to study the mirror, smiling. Golden blonde hair framed his face, set off by what could only be described as turquoise-colored eyes. Gone were his glasses and trademark scar, and his skin appeared sun-kissed. “I look like an American Muggle,” he joked, glad that Dumbledore’s little charm hadn’t gone so far as to give him an earring.

Draco, the antithesis to Harry’s goldenness, was still preening. His hair, now a striking raven color, fell to his shoulders. The familiar gray eyes that had more often that not stared at him with contempt seemed to be basking in their new hazel makeover. He looked…and Harry desperately wished for a better word…seductive. Clearing his throat to keep from saying something really stupid, he glanced at the other beautiful creature beside him.

Harry had always found Hermione beautiful. Now, though, with her brown bushy hair transformed into long, sleek light blonde curls, bright green eyes shining…if he weren’t gay, he would certainly be chasing her around the school. Harry smiled as she blushed hotly, catching this errant thought.

Certainly the most confused of the four was a freckle-less, chestnut-haired, blue-eyed Ron. “So, Dumbledore’s finally gone mad, has he? Cursing us, charming us and tossing us out of school weren’t enough, apparently.”

Hermione let out a huff of indignation. “Honestly, do the three of you ever pay attention?” At their blank stares, she shook her head. “I’ll go slow then. Read those lines one more time, and I mean really read them.” At that moment, Harry didn’t need to read Hermione’s mind to know exactly what she was thinking; the look on her face was one of patient exasperation. Therefore, he decided it would be best to do as she said and stay out of her way. “Chasing after the sun, flying so high, across the blue sky, until morning is nigh,” he repeated, still not completely comprehending the words.

Draco caught his eye in the mirror, and Harry could tell the confusion was mutual. “From pale into dark, across the sky you will sail. From pale to bright, deep into the night.” It was then that something clicked. “Wait…pale into dark, pale to bright. That…old coot used a glamour on us!”

“Very good, Draco. It’s nice to know one of you is paying attention,” Hermione said, rather condescendingly. “Now, we need to figure out the rest of this.”

//Bossy thing, isn’t she?//

Harry bit back a smile when he heard Draco’s voice. //Since the moment I met her.//

* * * * *

Draco peered down at the words, thanking his mother for persuading him to take advanced Latin. “I’ll need a few minutes to look this over,” he remarked, taking a seat. “Good thing at least one of us took Latin.” The last part he mumbled, flattening out his parchment.

The words were jumbled, no clear sentence structure at all. Figured Dumbledore would give them a Latin riddle. And why was he making them jump through so many hoops in the first place? It was not their fault…none of it. “Puer, fortitudo, plurimus…this makes no sense.”

“Roughly, what does that mean?” Harry asked.

“Boy, Brave, Most,” he answered, not looking up. “Praefigo, ager, aurum, invenio, possum. Which roughly means, all together, the most brave boy can find golden tip field.” He looked up at Harry. “So who’s the most brave boy?” //You know it’s you.//

//Then why was it on your parchment?//

“The silent debate isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Hermione interjected. “Ron, Draco, no offense but Harry is the bravest of you lot. Now then, the golden tip field. What does Harry chase around that field for hours on end? Think…”

Draco’s respect for Hermione was growing with each moment, and he felt as if he was getting smarter just by being near her. Too bad it had not worked as well on Harry and Ron.

//Funny, Malfoy, really.//

“The golden snitch. So I’m to go find the snitch out there in the dark?” Harry jerked his thumb over to the window, where just a pink-gold sliver of sunlight remained. “I need you, Draco-“

“Why, Harry, I didn’t know you cared.” He put on his best, faux-sweet smile. The one usually reserved for dealing with things like Pansy and Madame Pomfrey.

Harry glanced at him, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I don’t. I just need another seeker out there with me, so move.”

He couldn’t be certain, but Draco swore he saw Harry wink at him. The brat.

* * * * *

For having been such a sunny day, evening brought with it ominous clouds, pregnant with snow. Weaving through the ever-present crowds cluttering the twisted Diagon Alley streets, Lucius made his way towards a shabby pub near the end of the road. Albus’ report to him earlier that day had been encouraging; Draco and Harry would soon be away from Hogwarts. Everything was going as planned, and yet …

And yet…

Just when you think everything is going as you have planned it, no amount of magic can save you from the inevitable moment it blows up in your bloody face. Leaning against an expanse of age-worn brick, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His fingers brushed against something, and he plucked the object from its hiding space. It was a photo. Well, not just any photo; this was the annual Malfoy photo. Staring back at him from the image, so beautiful, so…unhappy, was his wife. Her hands, adorned only by her wedding bands, rested protectively on Draco’s shoulders. The expression contained within his son’s eyes haunted him with every glance.

Funny, how it took something as simple as a photo for him to realize what his family meant to him. Draco and Narcissa were stationary enough to be mistaken as those captured in a Muggle photo; standing dead and cold when they had the chance to be alive. Lucius need not glance at his own expression, since it would only radiate the same chill. “Took no less than five generations to conjure up arrogant indifference capable of hiding pain that deep,” he muttered to nobody in particular. Gently pocketing the image once more, he noticed a large, formidable dog at his feet.

“Where’s your littermate?” he asked conspiratorially. The dog turned its large muzzle towards “Scribbulus’ Ever Changing Inks”, where Remus Lupin had just exited. Pushing the door behind him open, Lucius allowed first the dog to pass him, then Remus. He then led them to a quiet alcove he’d found back in his seventh year. The pub was a filth-infested hole, but neither the dodgy bartender nor his regular patrons asked any questions.

Safely inside, Lucius watched as Sirius Black itched at a spot behind his ears before transfiguring himself back into a human. “Fleas?”

Smiling sardonically, Sirius nodded. “In a place like this, I wouldn’t be surprised, Malfoy.” He took a seat on a rickety old davenport, watching as Remus unloaded his purchases onto a table.

Spread before him were inkbottles of every size and color, a brilliant blue quill and four rolls of parchment. “Care to explain?” Lucius asked.

“We’ve all had our hands in this, have we not? I’ve not asked about your involvement, and I would appreciate the same respect from you,” Remus said quietly, not bothering to look up.

“Fair enough,” he replied. “I don’t suppose you know where he’s sending them.”

Both Sirius and Remus shook their heads. “That information cannot be risked. I have every confidence he will keep them safe,” Sirius explained.

Lucius considered this. “Very well then. Now, onto all Hallows Eve…” He paused mid-sentence as a rather large barn owl swooped into the room. Holding out its leg, the owl allowed Remus to attach the parchments before flying gracefully from the room.

“Sorry, you were saying?” Remus said lightly, plucking a feather from his cloak.

* * * * *

The wind slashed into Harry’s robes, bringing his mind back to the events of the past week. //Seems longer than a bloody week.//

Draco nodded, walking silently beside him. There was some awkwardness, but not as much as he had been anticipating. It’s not as if he wanted to talk about the kiss, innocent as it was. Besides, what would he say? Sorry I kissed you, I was dreaming about…no that would not work; Draco had been there in his dreams. He knew what had transpired in them.

Harry desperately wished for a moment of reprieve from the ever-present knowledge that the others could read his thoughts like a book.

//I switched to Ron and Hermione; they’re having a row again, something about chess pieces and birds.//

Harry chuckled at this. “You can switch? I end up with a jumbled mix of bossy know it all, angry and confused Weasley, and the scary grey matter between your ears.”

Draco stopped then, tugging on Harry’s robe. “Listen, I just wanted you to know that I won’t ever let what happened…in your dreams go any further than between you and I.” His words came out surrounded in puffy clouds of warm air, as the bitter wind blew at them from every direction.

The quietness of Draco’s voice, coupled with the tingle Harry felt with the front of his robe still clutched inside the other boys hand nearly drove him mad with desire. There was a sincerity in Draco’s voice that was not shown much, but one Harry knew Draco was capable of in rare moments. His voice was softer than Harry’d ever heard it, and he felt himself having to lean closer just to listen.

Whether or not Draco knew of the effect he had on Harry was another thing.

“Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened, had you not woken me up. Ron and Neville sleep through them by now, although Seamus has been known to dump water on me from time to time.”

Smiling, Draco shook his head. “You don’t…kiss Finnigan, do you?” he asked, his cheeks coloring as the words tumbled free.

Harry blinked, chuckling at both the idea and the abashed look on Draco’s face. “No…I’m much too afraid of Ginny,” he replied with a wink, cupping his hands together and blowing some warm air on them. It was a mutual outpouring of confusion, Harry could tell, but he made every effort to allow Draco time to think about it alone. Or, as alone as one could expect now. //So much for the lack of awkwardness.// “We should get going.”

Draco nodded, a fierce blush creeping into his face. “Right.” He pulled his robe tighter and followed the newly blond Harry onto the Quidditch pitch.

* * * * *

Lucius had detailed the plan in exhausting detail to Remus and Sirius, fighting the nervous tension that formed in the pit of his stomach. In all actuality, he was scared to death that the two former Marauders would think him mad. It had been difficult, giving voice to the actions that would hopefully erase Voldemort from the world. Still, if anyone could do it, and do it well…

Father to the oft-times cold and childhood-deprived Draco, he knew how much else was riding on such a tenuous plan. For his son to look upon him once with something other than complete and utter disgust…for his wife to wrap her arms around him and not shrink away in fear as his arms closed around her.

Thinking of Draco, Lucius fingered the quill in his hand thoughtfully. He thought about the curse that bound his son forever to Harry Potter. Adamo Redamo…

“What are you going to tell him?” Remus inquired, startling Lucius from his muddled thoughts.

“The truth,” he replied, simply. “Although I don’t expect him to give weight to any of it. Probably chuck it right out the window, knowing Draco.”

Remus shook his head, “He looks up to you, much as it loathes me to admit it-“

“He fears me, Remus. Fear is mistaken as respect more often then not; you of all should understand this. Both of you!” His voice had risen, echoing off the damp, brick walls.

Shaking his head, Sirius gathered his robe around him. “I’m taking a risk here as well, Lucius. I don’t believe Harry is equipped to handle another loss in his life.” This gave Lucius pause. For all of his talking, he had forgotten to think. “I know. I…we’ve all got something worth taking the risk for.”

“You do understand that…as a direct cause of Adamo Redamo, Draco and Harry could very well…” Remus trailed off, musing.

“Fall in love?” Lucius supplied, quietly. Remus and Sirius exchanged a worried glance; no doubt wondering how such a thing could possibly happen. Would it happen? Would Draco fall in love with another boy?

Overall, he mused, things could be worse. “Voldemort had urged me to betroth Draco to Pansy when they were mere children. It was only at the vehement refusal of Narcissa that we did not. Looking upon Pansy now, I can imagine that even if Cissa hadn’t killed me, Draco would have.”

Remus and Sirius both managed a chuckle. “Well spotted, Malfoy.”

* * * * *

As Harry and Draco approached the darkened Quidditch pitch, they could barely make out the Snitch, glinting faintly in the night. It appeared to be waiting for them, which, thought Draco, didn’t make much sense. His head was trying to piece together the meager clues Dumbledore had given them, all the while ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.

Although his question for Harry had been innocent enough, he found that he was almost relieved by the other boy’s reply. For a moment, long enough to watch Harry try to sneak up on the Snitch, Draco immersed himself in the fact that he just might feel…something…for Harry. The feelings washed over him, triggering the little voices in his mind. Right then. He knew…strike that, he thought he knew everything there was to know about himself. He was rich, he was powerful, and he liked women. And yet…and yet there was Harry. //Yeah, so you do like him. Maybe just a little. Accept it and move on.//

“Draco? You all right?”

Snapping to attention at Harry’s concerned voice, Draco’s face flushed hotly. “Er?” He mentally chastised himself, but Harry’s eyes were focused on him so intently at that moment that he nearly forgot why they were out there to begin with.

“I’m beginning to think this is a game,” he quipped, motioning at the two brooms hovering in the air. “Up to the chase?”

//Are you, Potter?//

Draco saw Harry’s grin, and wondered if perhaps he had caught just a sliver of the double meaning behind his innocent words. It was pretty hard not to, he mused. All Harry had to do was concentrate on him, and his internal thoughts would be broadcast like a Weird Sisters concert on the WWN. It was a slippery slope at best; although he was closer to admitting the attraction to himself, he was almost positive he did not want Harry to know. Not yet, anyway. “Shall we?”

Mounting the brooms, they soared along in the darkness. The Snitch was just ahead of them, hovering close to the boundary between the school and the forest. The cowardly part of him hoped that the damn ball didn’t suddenly develop delusions of grandeur and decide to skip merrily into the damn dark woods. “Where do you suppose he’s sending us?” he asked Harry, falling into an easy pattern of flying.

Harry shrugged. “Could be anywhere, knowing Dumbledore. I’m guessing it won’t be far, since he obviously expects that something horrible will happen, requiring our prompt return to society as we know it.” He raised an eyebrow at Draco, before grabbing the handle of his broom and diving down after the Snitch.

“Are you trying to kill yourself, Potter? If so, could you kindly leave me your invisibility cloak in the will?” Draco half-shouted over the rush of air in his ears. Leave it to Harry to fly a maneuver like that in the dark.

“Not a chance!” Harry quipped, leaning forward on his broom, and capturing the Snitch in one quick flick of the wrist. “Gotcha!” he declared, proudly.

Stifling the desire to roll his eyes, Draco settled on laughing. “If your fan club could see you now…” he said, dreamily.

Harry punched him soundly in the shoulder. “Fan club…yeah, the only fan club that comes with a lifetime guarantee of utter disillusionment and brushes with death,” he muttered, self-deprecatingly.

Well, he was not sure what he had expected Harry to say, but that wasn’t it. //We are alike in that manner, you know…well, that and the makeover//

The thought came across loud and clear, because Harry nodded in agreement. “I’m not meant to be a blonde, but it seems he was intent on reversing our appearances.”

Considering this, Draco took in the other boy’s features. It was kind of like staring into the strangest mirror imaginable. Then again, some of Dumbledore’s wisest lessons were a bit heavy-handed as of late. If the old man wanted Draco to see some of himself inside Harry, he could have been slightly less obvious about the whole damn thing. “So, we have the Snitch, now what?”

“We should…I don’t know, actually,” Harry said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t quite feel like going back inside yet though. Let’s just…fly.” And they would have, too, had the Snitch not beckoned Harry forward with a great tug. “Looks like the game isn’t over yet,” he quipped, staring at Draco with his blue eyes.

The quiet hesitation in Harry’s voice told him more than the nervousness he had sensed in his mind. On an unspoken command, they kicked off into the sky once more. This time, the Snitch led them to a dark alcove near the entrance gates. Resting there was a parchment tied with a glittering red ribbon. Harry touched down, followed closely by Draco. “One down.” Pocketing the parchment, they both headed towards their room.

* * * * *

Hermione and Ron were engaged in a rather one-sided game of wizard’s chess when Harry and Draco arrived. Hermione, especially, looked positively mutinous. “Anything?” she asked, halfheartedly watching her pawn get smashed into dusty bits.

Harry held the parchment over his head in victory. “Let’s just hope this one’s in a language we can all understand.” He cast Draco a sidelong glance, before undoing the elaborate ribbon.

“Hilarious, Potter, really. But while you and Weasley were ‘Unfogging the future’, I was being educated.”

Hermione giggled. “Spot on, Malfoy.”

“Quiet, let me read this!” Harry cleared his throat, spreading the parchment out before him.

“Very good. I’m impressed. Now then, since Mr. Malfoy is so fluent in the Latin language, perhaps he can inform you all what “Adamo Redamo” means.”

All eyes turned to Draco, who blushed to the tips of his pale ears. “Later. Get on with it, Potter.”

“The House of Potter, cursed once over with evil, shall rise victorious amongst the pure of heart. Use this, the guide for the lost of heart. Find with it the three that shall render it complete.”

//Lost of heart?// Harry sighed, turning the parchment over, watching as lines and curves filled it completely. One red dot appeared, a tiny ‘RW’ blinking below it. Thinking fast, he handed the ‘map’ to Ron. “Let’s go!”

* * * * *

Had Draco been paying more attention to where they were going, instead of trying to banish the image of Harry flying from his mind, he would have noticed Hermione dragging him through the portrait hole, and into Gryffindor Tower. As it was, the dozen or so suddenly speechless Gryffindors stared at them in open mouth shock. Wanting to wince from the sheer amount of tacky red and gold tapestry, Draco allowed himself to be blindly dragged through the common room. //Tasteful, Potter.//

//Shut it, Malfoy. Or I’ll leave you here with Lavender and Parvati.//

Ron smirked at this, taking a seat near the fire. “So, we’re here, now what?”

Laying the map out once again, Harry did his best to hide it from the spying eyes around him. “According to this, it should be right here.” He paused, raking his eyes over the orange-red glowing interior. “Oh. Draco, what’s ‘Latrunculi’ mean?”

Before Draco could answer, a decidedly squeaky voice broke the silence. “Chess, Harry! It means chess!”

Training his glare on Neville, Draco almost enjoyed the look of pure terror on Longbottom’s round face. “I’m so glad you’re here to tell us these things! Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, well, back to the matter at hand, Malfoy. Does it mean chess, or not?” Hermione cut in, sending Neville an apologetic glance. The overweight boy slid behind Finnigan, who whispered something to him about standing up for himself more often. //Yes, Granger, it does. Trust Longbottom to steal my thunder.//

“Think you’re the only pain the arse that can speak Latin, do you?” Ron asked, pulling his wizard chess set from underneath a huge, fluffy chair.

Feeling a pair of eyes on him, Draco looked up to find Harry glancing at him curiously. Didn’t Harry realize that he was about as comfortable here as he would be hanging out with a gaggle of giggling Hufflepuffs? //Can we find the bloody clue and get out of here already?//

Harry’s expression had not outwardly changed, but his voice was teasing along the bond. //Aw, but think of your Slytherin pride! I can see you’re just…itching to insult someone-//

//You want me to tease your friends, Potter?//

Before the question was answered, Ron had the second parchment in his hand. Wielding it above his head, he gave a little shout. “Come on, come on, where to next?” he whispered, helping Harry attach the two pieces of parchment together.

Once completed, they thankfully left the Gryffindors behind.

* * * * *

Hermione’s clue turned up inside a rather large book entitled “Arcanus Castellum”, which Harry saw went with her instead of back on the shelf. Also evident was the fact that Draco had grown increasingly nervous as they approached the final clue. Of all the places Harry had imagined, the lake had not even been a thought. Of course, he had no real idea on where Draco spent most of his time, and supposed that the past three hiding places were pathetically obvious.

Waiting for them there were Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. Seeing that they were all wearing grave expressions, Harry began to wonder what it was they weren’t being told. Snape was a new addition, but it made sense that he would be there as he was Draco’s Head-of-House. Dumbledore motioned them to come closer, handing Draco the final piece of parchment.

“And here you are, not even needing the extra six hours I’d allowed you. I see you’ve found a way to work collectively?” he observed, as Draco added the last piece to the map. “Your possessions have already been sent ahead of you. I expect you will be wanting to depart as soon as possible.”

Harry gulped a deep breath before answering, his hand traveling to the charm hanging close to his chest. “We will be…safe then?”

Smiling at them, Dumbledore nodded. “We will be waiting for you when you arrive. Stay along the marked path, and stay together.”

//When we arrive where? I’m tired…//

//I never knew you were such a whiner, Malfoy.//

Draco and Ron shared mutually macho glares as Harry and Hermione looked on. “Right then. We…but how do we get there, Professor?”

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore provided them with two broomsticks. “Double up, and fly safe.”

//Evasion, thy name is Dumbledore.//

Much to Harry’s dismay, Hermione attached herself to Ron’s side. Giving her a sidelong glance, he saw her wink. Pulling his most neutral expression, Harry mounted the broom. Draco sidled up behind him, wrapping strong arms around his waist. Harry’s entire body erupted into a warm rush of tingles, raising goose pimples along every square inch. Fighting to keep his mind on something wretched, he focused on the smarmy smile Snape was giving them.

Within a moment, the four of them were hovering a few meters above the ground, watching Dumbledore wave to them. The map came to life in Harry’s hands then, illuminating their ‘path’ with a brilliant orange color. Setting a course west of Hogwarts, they took off into the frigid night air.

* * * * *

//One hundred bottles of butterbeer on the wall…one hundred bottles of butterbeer-//

“Keep it up, Draco, and all hundred bottles will find themselves over your head,” Harry snapped, much to Draco’s amusement.

The air was absolutely freezing, and Draco was certain his nose was numb. He’d long since given up on his fingers, and idly wondered if Harry would object to him sliding them under his robe…

“Reach under the shirt and I’m tossing you over.”

Nearly falling off at that, Draco chuckled nervously. Harry’s voice rumbled low in his ears, intending them to be private. He carefully snaked his hands under the heavy material of Harry’s winter robe, curling them against the warm jumper there. Just then, Harry consulted the map and sent them spiraling to the left in a move that had always scared the hell out of Draco. Behind them, he heard Hermione scream at Ron’s sloppy attempts at keeping up.

It was odd, he mused, flying with Harry. For so many years he had flown against him, trying to keep up and not fly his broom into twigs. Yet, to actually fly with Harry, to be one with him, as it were, was an exhilarating experience. Along their bond, he felt a bit of the sheer bliss Harry felt whilst flying, mixed with curiosity and a complete feeling of utter cold. It was becoming easier to sense thoughts like these, and more importantly, to determine whom they came from.

Hermione’s thoughts tended to focus on worry, for Harry and all of them as a group, and on Ron. Not that she spent her days swooning, because even most of the ‘Ron’ thoughts were wrought with worry. Ron, in the meantime, focused on random things like the curve of Hermione’s lower calves, and whether or not they were going to eat soon. Whether or not any of this was weird was moot, since he knew it was damn weird.

Looking below him, he could see that they were moving further and further away from Scotland, and appeared to be headed south now. With some relief, Draco noticed that the path was growing shorter with every passing kilometer. “We’re nearly there?” he asked Harry, absentmindedly toying with the hem of Harry’s jumper.

Harry nodded. “According to this, yes. I just wish something would come into view already.”

Indeed. Below them, the ground was inky black and devoid of anything other than trees. He could feel Harry tensing at his light touch, but the other boy was doing his best to silence his thoughts from the group. In spite of all the strangeness around them, Draco allowed himself to revel in the utter comfort he felt with his arms around Harry Potter’s waist. His inner Malfoy was bouncing up and down like a child, while the more…rational part of his mind vehemently tried to deny the feelings. Well, he mused, to hell with being rational in moments like this. No, he was content to simply bask in the cold air whipping at his robes.

Upon a prodding from the map, Harry jerked them forward, nearly vertical with the ground. The action sent Draco’s upper body closer to Harry’s, his face smashed up against the back of Harry’s head. In those few seconds, the only thing that existed was the wild rush of air in his ears, and the death-grip he had on Harry’s jumper. He could feel the other boy’s heartbeat, and recognized the move as one of Harry’s more…Gryffindor…moves. There were times, Draco mused, when Harry’s skill as a Quidditch player outclassed even him. Which was saying something.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Harry whispered, righting them again. Draco relaxed his grip then, sniggering at the daggers Hermione was shooting at Harry. Her thoughts came across loud and clear. //Another move like that, Harry, and I’ll curse you myself!//

Draco was convinced that the aerial highjinks were not quite over, yet before long they were touching down to the ground again. For a long, silly moment, he felt gloomy at having to release his hold on Harry’s warm body. His own arms felt cold and lonely now, as the warmth Harry’s jumper had provided drained from his skin slowly. He wrapped his robe more tightly around himself, and tried not to think about how easily and unconsciously Harry invaded his every thought.

//I am in trouble…//

* * * * *

A long, overgrown path began where the directions on the map ended. Pocketing it, Harry stepped cautiously forward. It was dark, terribly so, and his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. Behind him, Draco, Ron and Hermione were silent, but he could feel their fear almost as keenly as his own. He guessed that Ron and Hermione were still too jarred from the flying to lecture him on the foolishness of wandering round in the dark, and Draco…

He did not want to think about Draco for the moment.

No, or the way the other boy’s arms had felt wrapped around his waist. Based on the superficial alone, Harry loved being with an attractive male; it was only when his brain registered the fact that it was Draco – straight Draco – that he wanted to smash good reason in with a hammer, grab Draco and have a go. Moreover, it had not helped that he had sensed that Draco was warming up to the idea of at least exploring-

//No! No, I will not even consider it.//

//Consider what, pray tell?//

Stiffening, Harry wished with every fiber of his being that Draco had not heard any of that. “Er, nothing. If you don’t mind…”

“Touchy, touchy, Potter,” Draco teased. “You weren’t having impure thoughts about Snape again, were you?”

Right. Well, at least he wouldn’t worry so much if that were the case. No, wait, he would, but…oh, hell. Time to get Malfoy off his back for the moment. “No, actually,” he whispered, “They were about…you.”

Priceless moments only came around every so often, and the sight of Draco Malfoy tripping over his own feet, and falling with a rather girly scream into the bushes ranked high on the list. He supposed he should feel bad, but it certainly did the trick. Leaning forward, he extended his hand down, helping Draco to his feet. “You really should watch where you’re walking, Malfoy,” he said, biting back a grin.

Draco grumbled something unintelligible, moving to stand behind Hermione. Harry chuckled to himself; it was rare that one had the upper hand with Draco.

“I see you’ve made it safely.”

It was Harry’s turn to scream when the bemused face of Professor Dumbledore came into view before them. “P-Professor! What, I mean, how…?”

“In due time, Harry my boy. Now, if you’ll all follow me.” He turned around, walking along a path that Harry was certain had not been there a moment earlier. “You must all be wondering why it was necessary for you to fly.” He paused, smiling comfortingly at Hermione. “Once you enter this gate, you will be confined to the grounds within. Not only are these grounds protected with wards tight enough to keep even the Ministry out, they are your greatest chance at remaining safely alive.” The gravity behind his words suddenly made Harry’s feelings for Malfoy seem horrifyingly trite and unimportant.

For the moment, anyway.

Still, spending months on end together was certain to make them all go mad. Had he not been utterly convinced that this was, indeed, the best thing for them, he would have turned around and flown right back to Hogwarts.

“Professor, where are we, exactly?” Hermione inquired, craning her neck to see what lay beyond the gate.

“You’re about to find out. Step forward, Miss Granger.” He beckoned Hermione towards the large, wrought iron gate. A massive structure, the gate was adorned with a continuing pattern of red and green carvings, and a large plate affixed in the center. Resting there, yet very much aware, were an owl, a stallion, a unicorn and a rather large tiger.

“Now then, place your right hand over the plate.”

She obeyed, her hand drawn to the owl, and Harry heard Draco and Ron’s gasp as well as his own as the plate slid to the left. The stallion ran forward then, its bright eyes staring right at Harry. On shaking legs, Harry moved forward. Brushing his fingers across the stallion, he felt an almost electrical jolt. His eyes snapped to Hermione’s, and he could sense her surprise as well. The plate shifted once more, as the unicorn timidly trotted forward, lowering its magnificent head at Draco. A puzzled expression passed over Draco’s elegant features as he stepped in beside Harry. The last creature, the tiger, growled low as Ron approached and then…had Harry not grabbed onto Draco for support, he surely would have fallen flat on his face.

Colors…reds, greens, purples, and every color Harry could imagine swirled around them madly. Growing larger by the moment, the plate shattered, and twisted itself into a door. It was the most awesome, yet unnerving thing Harry had seen in a long time.

Dumbledore stood by quietly, his wise gaze trained on the four of them. “A necessary measure, I’m afraid. The gate…this entrance cannot be opened without the four of you present. That is why it is imperative that none of you leave here alone. You are to remain together at all times when outside the castle-“

“Castle?” Harry cut in, shaking his head.

Dumbledore waved his robed arm at the sprawling structure just beyond the gate. “Your new home for the time being, of course.”

He was met with four identical pairs of astonished eyes.

* * * * *

It was clearly the most beautiful, strangely frightening castle Draco had ever laid eyes on. Huge, grey towers soared into the air, partially concealed in the clouds. A drawbridge //An actual drawbridge!// led to the gargantuan entrance way. It made the Manor, impressive it its own right, small and insignificant by comparison. Even Hogwarts itself would be outclassed, and he wondered why Dumbledore felt they needed an entire castle to themselves.

//An entire castle…to ourselves. Could be…interesting, don’t you think?//

Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering. Leave it to Harry! Try as he might, he could not keep his mind from flooding itself with images of teacher-free days and lounging around at his leisure. Then again, Hermione would certainly squawk in their ears daily about their upcoming NEWTS, hounding them as was her way. Still…six months or more away from Hogwarts was becoming more appealing by the minute.

//Certainly makes the chances for midnight rendezvous more likely; too bad I’m stuck with you.//

This time Draco could not fight the grin that spread across his face. //Midnight rendezvous, Potter? I would love to see what you consider a ‘rendezvous’. .//

In that instant, Draco felt the most terrific rush as Harry’s eyes zeroed in on his. It was clearly the most inappropriate of moments, but staring into the emotionally charged blue eyes before him, and hearing, feeling Harry’s words astounded him. //Anytime, Malfoy.//

The embarrassing tightness in his trousers did little to convince him that this attraction to Harry was under control. He had turned away from him, leaving the words hanging in the air, a challenge…a dare. It was all in Draco’s hands now…whatever ‘it’ was. Moment broken, he followed Hermione and Ron across the drawbridge. Dammit…how did he ever let it get this far? He was not…he did not want other guys! It was just the complete package that Harry offered, no pun intended. Smart, brave, reckless…more ready and willing for danger and downright naughtiness than Draco ever gave him credit for, really.

Part of him wished for some time alone with his thoughts, an hour even, but deep down he knew that if given that chance, he would deny himself these feelings. His thoughts whirled around like mad, trying to assemble themselves after Harry’s soul searing glance tore them with the ease of paper. He needed to lie down. He needed a stiff drink. He needed…

* * * * *

Slightly back down to earth, Harry stood beneath a ceiling enchanted to be eternally sunny. Puffy white clouds sailed along, occasionally taking the form of a broomstick, or owl. He stared into the clouds for a few moments, waiting for his heart to return to a more normal beat. Had he really told Ron that Draco wasn’t he type? Had he actually started flirting with the other boy? Those were the easy questions; what he did not know was why Draco had started flirting in return. And could he even call it flirting? It could just be typical Malfoy conversation.

It hadn’t felt that way though. He’d seen it on Draco’s face, felt that the emotions behind the words were real. Dumbledore hadn’t explained that they would begin to pick up emotions, but there had been a lot their Headmaster hadn’t explained, as it were. High above, two happy clouds floated determinedly towards one another; meeting in the middle and merging into one. It was beautiful. Shaking himself and with one last wistful look above him, Harry pushed the cloudy symbols of high romance from his mind.