Lay Me Softly Down

LAY ME SOFTLY DOWN:

Chapter 4

Ron caught up with Draco, ranting furiously all the way. "No! No way Malfoy! There's no way in hell that I'm sharing a sleeping bag with you tonight!" Draco looked back, and fluttered his eyelashes at Ron. "What's the matter Weasley?" he said, now running his smooth, pink tongue over his lips.

"I know you're just dying to get me in the sack." Ron's hands balled into fists at his sides. Draco smiled wider than ever, now warming up to the subject at a brisk pace. He sat back languidly on one of the sleeping bags, and began running one hand through his hair, splaying it wildly about so that it hung seductively around his face.

"A little guilt-free sex might do you some good." Ron's face was beginning to turn red again. Draco smiled even wider. Ron thought that if Draco's grin grew any larger, it was likely that the top of his head would fall off.

"Haven't you had enough pounding for one day Malfoy? Or do you like it so much that you just keep coming back for more?" The smile promptly left Draco's face, and he let the hand that had been busy tousling his luscious blond locks drop limply to his side. He propped himself up to a sitting position on the bag.

"I was only joking. It's not like I don't know that you and Potter are joined at the hip, and a few other interesting places," he added, playfully smacking his butt in a suggestive manner. Ron's eyes darkened with fury, and he took a threatening step toward Draco.

"Hey, hey, cool down. I was only joking." He raised his hands above his head in a supplicating gesture. Ron stopped, and Draco could see the anger begin to drain out of his eyes.

With a grunt, Draco heaved himself off the bag, and brushed his robes free of some loose dirt. "You know Weasley, there are other ways to solve your problems than with your fists," he added, almost as an aside to himself. Ron looked at him in a calculating way. "I know that Draco. It's just that it seems that that's the only thing you listen to."

Draco sighed, and made a tut-tut sound with his lips. "Common brutality is for Muggles Weasley. We Wizards are more civilized then that." Ron looked as if he was about to say something in response to this, but he just bit his lip.

"You know, if we are going to be sharing a bag tonight, I'd much prefer it if you called me Ron. Is that okay with you?" At this, Draco momentarily blanched with a look of mild surprise on his face. Ron wondered if anyone had ever asked him to call them by their first names.

He recovered quickly, and put on what Ron supposed was his game face. "Sure thing…Ron," he said, saying Ron's name as if he were trying on a new pair of clothes. It felt strange for Ron to, he wondered if he'd ever get used to Draco calling him by his first name.

The neutral expression on Draco's face quickly vanished, to be replaced once again by his customary Devil-May-Care grin. "Since we're on a first name basis now, are you sure you don't fancy a quick snog?" And arched his eyebrows in a wicked way.

This time, Ron kept his cool, and, not without some effort, managed to restrain himself. "Gee Draco, I never knew that you fancied girls and boys. Though I suppose that's all in a day's work for the resident Slytherin Sex God."

At this, Draco laughed, delight evident in his voice. "I'm open to possibilities. Besides, you'd never see another guy after me for the money." Ron thought about this for a moment. Come to think of it, all the Slytherin girls were probably pursuing a relationship with Draco just because of his immense family fortune.

Ron, whose family was poor, but happy, couldn't imagine what it would be like to be liked just for your money. "That's rather superficial of them, don't you think?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Draco sighed, and for the third time that night, Ron saw the fight leave Draco's eyes. It wasn't just that, his posture seemed to lose it's formal air, his face took on a more serious cast, and his general look of un-approachableness seemed to leave him, as if shrugged off, like a heavy winter coat, leaving him looking vulnerable and defenceless.

A moment passed, when all was silent, and Ron waited for Draco to regain his composure. It didn't happen. In fact, as the moments dragged by, he seemed to look more and more sad, like his heart was weighted down, and was slowly, but surely sinking. Ron put a hand out, and gently laid it on the other boys shoulder.

This time, Draco didn't flinch from his touch. He merely sat where he was, looking tired and sad, almost like a little boy who had tried so hard to please, and had ended up doing too much, leaving him exhausted, and ready to go to sleep.

Ron started to gently massage the area where Draco's neck and shoulder met. Ron was something of an expert at this, his mother being prone to knotted muscles, who claimed that Ron was the only one who knew how to do it just right, and thus insisted that Ron be the only member of the Weasley household allowed to give her massages. (Although Fred and George had attempted it once, ending in disastrous results.)

Ron felt Draco immediately begin to relax under his skillful ministrations. Encouraged, Ron put his other hand on Draco's remaining shoulder, and proceeded to massage Draco's neck with vigour he seldom, if ever, displayed.

A low moan escaped Draco's lips. "Damn, that feels good Ron." Ron smiled, flattered by Draco's compliment. It felt strangely wrong, yet totally right, to be giving his worst enemy a massage. "You never did tell me why we're sharing a bag tonight. Care to explain Draco?" he said, feeling the muscles in Draco's neck start to loosen, bit by bit.

"Simple, Hermione's got some training as a Medi-Wizard, and, ah-" He grunted as Ron came upon a particularly hard spot. Ron sensed Draco's discomfort, and lessened up for a minute before continuing. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're too tense? You really ought to relax more," Ron said, mildly concerned.

Draco smiled again, but it was a tired smile, devoid of any real warmth. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? No rest for evil overlords in training." Then snickered into the palm of his hand.

Ron continued to massage Draco's neck, to his obvious delight, often groaning in a low, primal expression of his pleasure. "Hermione's got some training as a Medi-Wizard, and if anything happens to Harry, she'll know what to do."

Ron nodded, satisfied with Draco's reasoning, although he wasn't really thinking about that at the moment. Draco's cloak had fallen off his shoulders, leaving the silky smooth charcoal grey fabric of his undershirt exposed. Ron slowly eased off on Draco's neck, and let his right hand fall to Draco's shirt.

Draco had now given up any pretence of being formal, and was letting his head rest against Ron, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath the thin material of his undershirt, the only difference being that his was a dark, crimson red instead of a pale grey.

His head seemed to be bursting with excitement. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Ron was this good. Of course, before now, Draco would have been disgusted by himself if he had dreamed something like this.

Ron let his hand slip into the collar of Draco's turtleneck, and he began to ease it off Draco's shoulder, exposing creamy white skin that was worthy of a model. One shoulder exposed, Draco was now leaning into Ron, leaving himself open to Ron's mercies. His tongue slid out from between his lips, and ran slowly down Ron's ear, while he nibbled gently on Ron's lobe.

Ron continued to ease the turtleneck off Draco until one arm was completely exposed. Draco leaned close, and Ron could smell berries and honey on him, and a faint, barely recognizable odour of musky sweat that was beginning to form on his skin.

"You're such a tease Weasley," he whispered huskily into Ron's ear as he began to shrug his remaining arm out of the sweater. Ron let one hand fall into Draco's shirt, and run up and down his skin, while the other wrapped itself around Draco's waist, supporting him.

"Yeah! Take it off!" Ron yelped, and jumped into the air, startled by the voice behind him. Draco cursed loudly, and rolled onto his stomach while trying desperately to pull his arm back into the sweater.

Ron spun around, feeling furious at the peeping Tom who had invaded their privacy. "Whoever you are you're?!-" He stopped upon seeing the culprit. A few feet away, a boy who was unmistakably Seamus Finnigan stood by the dying fire, looking slightly embarrassed, but very pleased with himself at the same time.

His eyes were wide open, like a child's on Christmas morning, and his hands were worrying at the edge of his robes, which were now thoroughly wrinkled and sweat stained. Draco speedily rearranged his clothes to make himself look at least semi-decent, then proceeded to turn his formidable wrath on the sandy haired Seamus. "Damn you Finnigan! Did you enjoy that?!" he yelled, spitting every word.

Seamus at least found the decency to look abashed, and turned his gaze to his boots. Ron studied his face closely for a minute, and noticed that he was still smiling. Draco took a large breath, and continued his ranting. "You stupid Gryffindork!! Got your jollies did you?! How long were you standing there?!"

Seamus didn't answer, he just shifted in his boots looking mildly uncomfortable. Draco gritted his teeth together, his patience worn thin. He took one large stride forward, and slammed Seamus up against the nearest tree. "WHAT DID YOU SEE?!" he yelled, as loudly as possible into Seamus's face, his blue-grey eyes never leaving Seamus's brown ones. Ron stepped forward, and put a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Ease off Draco, I'm sure Seamus didn't mean anything by it," Draco snarled, and tightened his grip on Seamus's robe clasp. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt him…too badly," he said, his voice filled with quiet malice. He shrugged Ron's hand off, and returned his full attention to Seamus, who was now beginning to look very frightened. "What's the matter you stupid Gryffindork? Malfoy got your tongue?" Seamus still didn't answer, but he was now biting down on his lip as if to keep from crying.

Draco waited for a moment, leaving Seamus squirm, then spoke again. "You better talk Finnigan, because if you don't, I know a lot of interesting and painful curses that might loosen that large tongue of yours." Seamus clamped his teeth down hard over his lip, and shook his head once, resolutely.

"Have it your way then…" Draco muttered, then drew his wand, and pointed it at Seamus's midsection. "I think he'd make a nice toad, don't you Ron?" he said, while concentrating on Seamus's eyes. At this, Seamus, broke. "Alright, alright, I'll talk! Just don't turn me into anything unnatural or curse me!" he nearly blubbered. Draco nodded in satisfaction, and let go of Seamus, who promptly dropped to the ground on shaky knees, quivering with fright.

Ron stepped up to Draco again, and spoke with more force. "Let him go Draco. It doesn't matter what he saw. I trust him, he won't tell anyone," he said, with firm resolution in his voice. Draco cast his gaze to Ron for a moment, looking at him like he was nothing more than a fly, the cold sneer now in plain view again. Ron looked at him, disbelieving. *How can he be like this?*

He found it almost impossible to believe that mere moments ago, he had seen a totally different side of Draco. A side of Draco that was sensitive and sensual, a side of Draco that actually gave a damn about other people and their feelings, a side of Draco that could love, and be loved.

He shook the thought out of his head. He loved Harry, not Draco. He felt a red hot blush start to creep up his cheeks again. What would Harry do if he heard about this? What would he think of him? Draco waited patiently. Ron just stood there, looking stupid and useless. "Well Weasley, say what's on your damn mind." "Damn it Draco! Why do you have to be like this?!" Draco blinked, and lowered his gaze for a moment. "I don't know what you're talking about," he whispered, looking both sad and frightened at the same time.

Then, before Ron could say anything more, Draco turned back to Seamus, who had pulled himself to his feet during the brief respite, and was now looking at both Ron and Draco with an inquisitive, if not outright mischievous look on his face. "What did you see Finnigan?" Seamus looked at his boots again, and scuffed them on the ground. "I saw it all." Nobody spoke for a moment. Draco stood where he was, breathing heavily, staring menacingly at Seamus. Ron's face turned so red, that he looked like a freshly boiled beet.

"You were damn sexy too," Seamus added, looking vacant and dreamy. As Draco watched, Seamus licked his lips, and then smacked them together, like Adam must have done after seeing the forbidden fruit. Draco doubted that Seamus was even aware of what he was doing. Draco cleared his throat loudly. Seamus looked around, startled at being pulled out of his little daydream. "You will not tell anyone. Do I make myself clear?" Draco asked, mimicking the commanding tone of his father.

Seamus looked at him for a moment with his wet puppy eyes, before the lascivious grin broke out again, toothy and irrepressible. "I might…" Seamus said, pretending to think about it for a minute. "You'll do it," Draco said, not letting the doubt he felt in his heart surface in his voice. This time however, Seamus didn't look remotely frightened. In fact, he looked more amused then ever.

"Don't threaten me Draco. You try anything funny, and I'll yell it so loud that everyone within a mile will hear." Draco's hands balled into fists as his sides, his nails digging into his palms, leaving small, half moon crescents where they landed.

Ron stepped in, and lodged himself between the two. "Look Seamus, it was nothing. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't say anything." Seamus shook his head, and looked at his boots again. "I didn't mean it Ron. I just don't like him threatening me. He can't boss around everyone like he thinks he can."

From behind him, Ron heard an indignant bellow. "I agree. Thanks Seamus, I'm sure Draco appreciates it too." Seamus raised his hands, and shook his head feverently. "That's not what I meant Ron. I mean… I never thought you two would get together, but it's none of my business. If you're happy, then I'm happy."

Ron looked puzzled for a moment, and then grasped what Seamus was saying. "What? Oh, no! No! We're not together, it was nothing." Seamus smiled coyly. "There's no need to be modest about it Ron, you snagged yourself a real winner," he said, as he punched Ron playfully in the arm while making several * wink! wink! * gestures.

Ron punched Seamus back, clearly annoyed at Seamus's naivety. "No, really Seamus, I'm not with Draco," he said, enunciating every word clearly in the hope that Seamus would cotton on. This only succeeded in making Seamus laugh harder, and punch him in the arm again. "Come on Ron, you don't need to lie to me. You were just snogging the living daylights out of him. I know a couple when I see them." "No Seamus! We-are-not-a-couple!" he yelled so loudly, that some birds who were nesting in the nearby trees cawed indignantly before flying up and away, presumably to more peaceful places.

A couple students yelled at them from the woods. "Will you please shut up?!" "Yeah, just get married and be done with it."Ê Closely followed by the sounds of Silence Charms being cast. The smile faded from Seamus's lips, and his eyes lost their former twinkle, to return to the sad, brown-eyed puppy look that he had given them before. "Alright, alright Ron. I get it. You don't have to tell me twice. Who are you going out with anyway? And don't you dare tell me you're single, you sexy, madly blushing Weasley, you."

"Well, if you must know, I'm going out with Harry," Ron said, wondering why he had bothered to tell Seamus this piece of information. Seamus kicked the dirt in frustration, and Ron was reminded of a small child with a bad case of sour grapes. "Damn! It's not fair! You get all the sexy ones! And all these years I've had to make do with Neville!"

Ron looked at Seamus, slightly alarmed. Without thinking, he backed up a step. "Eewww, that's really gross Seamus," he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Seamus looked up, and the twinkle returned to his eyes. "I'm only joking Ron! You actually thought that me and Neville could…" he said as he made a hooking gesture with his pointer fingers.

Ron shook his head, laughing in a kind of queasy relief. "No! Of course not! That would be gross! I knew you were only joking!" Seamus looked at him sceptically. "Right… But seriously, I don't know what I would do if I hadn't found Fred." Ron's laughter was quickly choked off, and his face began to turn a powdery white, his eyes bulging with disbelief. "Okay, a joke's a joke Seamus, but that's a little too creepy, even for me."

Seamus shook his head rapidly from side to side. "No joke Ron. We've been together since last year." Ron's head moved from side to side. "Uh, uh, you're bluffing Seamus. Fred and George are not gay." "I'm not bluffing Ron. Bawdy, sexy Irish boys do not bluff." And Ron saw that Seamus was telling the truth of the matter from looking into his eyes.

"You mean it, don't you? So you and Fred are really…" Then Seamus cracked up, unable to help himself. For perhaps three minutes, he just leaned back against the tree, laughing so hard that tears streaked down his face. "Damn it Seamus! That was not funny!" Seamus looked up, and somewhere in between the bellows of laughter that were overpowering him, he managed to speak. "You should have seen… you should have seen the look on your face! You actually believed it!" he yelled, and then dissolved back into laughter.

From behind him, Draco's voice rang out, sharp as a knife's edge looking for something to cut. "Let me talk with the stupid git. We'll see if he still thinks he's funny after I'm done with him." Ron turned back to Draco, now slightly amused himself. "Gee Draco, If I remember correctly, "Common Brutality is for Muggles Weasley. We Wizards are more civilized than that," he said, his voice dropped in a surprisingly good imitation of Draco's low, silky and sultry tone.

Draco sneered again, and spat near Ron's boot, contempt written on his face, cruelly contorting his fair complexion and features into an angry mask that would have been hideous had it been anybody else. "You think that's funny Weasley? You may be able to pound me into the ground, or curse me, but I'd like to see you try and beat me in a real duel."

Ron raised his right hand, and lightly slapped Draco on the cheek, as if his hand were a glove. He drew himself to his full height, and then made a motion, as if to draw an invisible sword out of a likewise invisible holster. "You dare challenge me? The Great Weasel of Wankerton?!" As he twirled his imaginary sword in front of Draco's nose.

"Then have at me, you laggard!" Then Ron leaned forward, and extended the arm that held the imaginary sword, as if to thrust it through Draco's heart. Draco was not amused. He sidestepped Ron's imaginary sword, pulled back, and, taking advantage of Ron's momentarily imbalanced position, kicked him hard in the small of the back.

Ron lost his balance, teetered for a moment, then fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving ground. He pushed himself up, and then turned around to glare at Draco, who was wiping his hands off on his robes in a rather dainty manner, and was wearing an innocent *What? Me?* expression on his face, making him look almost angelic. Seamus was now laughing harder then ever, looking as if he was trying very hard not to burst with the sheer force of it. "What's so funny guys?" Seamus stopped laughing. Not little by little, but all at once, like a stopper had been shoved in it.

All three boys turned in unison to see the source of the voice.

Hermione was standing in the small clearing, a mildly curious expression on her face, her bushy hair strung in several large, clumpy knots about her head.

When nobody spoke, her expression changed to one of indignation. To Ron, she looked very much like his mother in that moment. "Well? I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important," she said in a rare instance of sarcasm. "I'd hate to be barging in on some sort of obscure masculine ritual."

From his place a few feet away, Draco snickered rather loudly, clearly amused. "Well boys, here's our sacrificial virgin. Do we just throw her in the volcano, or do we hand her over to Snape?" At this, everyone but Hermione laughed. When the laughter subsided, Draco walked over to Hermione, and slung one arm around her midsection. "Sorry about that Herm, I was only kidding." Hermione harrumphed loudly, and crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of stubbornness, although it was clear that she was not serious in the least.

A few stray hairs fell from her forehead, and she blew them away, still trying to look serious, although a small smile was forming at the corners of her lips. Draco lowered his eyes in an attempt to look bashful. "I'm sorry mummy. Is it our bedtime now?" At this, Hermione's rapidly fading control broke. This time, she joined in the hearty laughter, adding her own unique, charming laugh to the boys voices, giving a nice contrast to the generally basso sound.

She tried to look miffed, and failed miserably. The smile on her lips had now widened into a goofy grin. "Seeing as how you're my boyfriend, I'll let that one slide," she whispered softly into Draco's ear. She felt a shiver of pleasure run up Draco's spine, and he leaned back, and whispered back, so softly that she could scarcely hear him. "Since I've been so naughty, I was wondering if you had something in mind?…" He let it trail on purpose, leaving Hermione to imagine all sorts of wonderfully sinful things.

"How about a good spanking?" he suggested, still whispering, but loud enough for Seamus to hear. Seamus smirked, and waved a finger in Draco's direction. "I wouldn't if I were you Hermione. Wonder Boy here's already had enough heavy petting for one night."

Both Draco and Ron stopped dead in their tracks. Ron's mouth dropped open, and he looked at Seamus with an expression of outright horror, his face going a cheesy white pallor. Draco did not react quite as violently, but nonetheless gave his own small signs. His back became arched, and he pulled himself to his full height, while looking at Seamus frostily.

Seamus continued on, apparently oblivious to the looks that Ron and Draco were giving him. "Hey Herm, do you mind if I join you guys tonight?" Hermione ignored Seamus's question, and looked back and forth from Draco to Ron. She swallowed, trying to rid her throat of the dry feeling that it had suddenly developed, and then laughed shakily, not willing to believe what she had just heard. "That was pretty funny Seamus, but you were only joking, right?…" She looked back and forth, from Ron to Draco.

Ron felt a hot flush creep into his cheeks again, and he cast his face away from Hermione's imploring look, although it didn't help. Even with his gaze focused completely on his boots, and his head tilted slightly to the right, he could still feel Hermione's gaze burning into his head. In that moment, he felt extremely vulnerable and defenceless, and also very disgusted with himself.

Seeing that Ron wasn't going to answer, Hermione shifted her gaze to Draco. "He was only joking, wasn't he Draco?" she asked, trying to put strength and conviction into her voice, and failing miserably. What came out was a dry whisper, cracked and breaking.

Draco turned to Hermione, realizing that he had done something very wrong. *ME?! It's not my fault damn it! That stupid Weasley started it, not me!* Were the words that hung on his lips, ready to burst out. But just before he blurted them out, he bit down on his tongue hard, drawing blood.

Ron had started it sure, but he hadn't exactly done anything to stop him or dissuade him now, had he? In fact, he had practically encouraged him, reacting with just as much lust and need as Ron had. He forced himself to look into Hermione's brown eyes, knowing that he had to tell her the truth. But what he saw there stopped him, and made him feel helpless and stupid, tying his tongue into knots, and making it impossible to say what he intended to.

Hermione's eyes were glasslike and glazed, and Draco could see full, bright tears edging onto her eyelashes, threatening to overspill at any moment. Draco felt a stab of guilt deep in his heart. *Oh God, I am such a slimy git.* He thought as he looked at Hermione, trying to find the words to say what he felt.ÊÊÊÊÊÊ

Hermione could feel herself start to cry, and on the heels of that, a deep anger directed at Draco and Ron for having deceived her and lied to her like this. She looked away as hot, salty tears began to streak down her face, the only testament to the pain she felt inside. She could not have been more hurt had Draco physically slapped her with his hand. In some ways, she felt that that might have been better.

Draco reached out, and placed a hand on her cheek. Gently cupping it, he turned Hermione's face toward him, knowing that he had to say what he felt. "Hermione, I'm… I'm sorry, I-" Then Hermione reached up, and violently clawed Draco's hand away from her face, leaving deep gashes where her nails struck.

Draco cried out in shock, then quickly bit down on his lip. A Malfoy did not cry out. He had more dignity then that. Hermione spun around, so that her back was to him. "You liar! I trusted you!" she yelled, her voice full of hurt and bitter acrimony. Draco reached out again, and then stopped himself. He most certainly did not want to become the target of her anger again. Instead, he got to as close a distance as he felt was safe, and spoke. "Look Hermione, I'm sorry. It just happened, it was just one of those things."

Hermione spun around again, and wiped her tears off her face in a fiercely defiant gesture. "I'm sure it was Draco. If you don't care about me, why didn't you just say so?!" she yelled. Absurdly, Draco thought, *Hell hath no fury like a woman spurned.* but banished it quickly. When it came to Hermione's feelings, he did not joke around.

*Oh really? Since when?* spoke a cold, unfeeling voice deep inside his soul, the voice of his father, cold and formal, with an undeniably stinging sarcasm that dripped from it like a snake's venom. He could feel his throat start to clog up, and he itched to let loose a volley of insults that would only make things worse. Knowing that he could do no more, he walked off towards the fire, feeling helpless and defeated.

Ron felt Hermione's gaze shift to him again, and he knew that she was just looking for someone to lash out at, and that whatever he said it would make no difference. In a way, it paralleled what had happened earlier, and how he wouldn't have listened to her, no matter what the circumstances. What she needed now was time to cool off.

His mind made up, Ron turned on heel, and walked toward the sleeping bag, intent on getting ready for bed.

Throughout the encounter, Seamus had stared dumbly at Hermione, the realization of what he had done only just dawning in his head. With no one else left, he was now the only person available on whom she could release her anger. He smiled nervously, feeling cold, clammy sweat start to build up on the back of his neck.

He took one step backwards, and then braced himself for the inevitable whirlwind of insults and curses that he knew would come flying his way. Nothing happened. He risked a quick glimpse at Hermione, unsure of what he would see. Hermione's face had gone slack, and although her eyes still held their glassy look, the tears that had been present on her face a few moments ago had completely disappeared.

He risked another step backwards, and then cringed again, bracing himself for Hermione's righteous fury. Again, nothing happened. Just as Seamus turned, ready to run as he had never ran before, he heard Hermione call out to him, not loudly and shrilly, as he would have expected, but soft and gentle.

"Please don't go Seamus." Seamus looked over his shoulder, his body still tensed to run, but his mind was listening. "I think Harry would appreciate it more if you would stay with him tonight. He might feel a little awkward if he wakes up next to me." Seamus looked down at his boots again, feeling embarrassed. "I'd love to Herm, but I really shouldn't. I think I've already caused enough trouble here tonight. I don't think Draco and Ron would um… appreciate it if I stayed here tonight."

Hermione shook her head once, rapidly. "It's not your fault Seamus. I'm actually glad you told me." Seamus now felt more embarrassed then ever. "No, really Hermione. It was none of my business, and I sort of… walked in on them." At this, Hermione's eyes bulged, and she looked dangerously close to going over the edge.

"By accident though!" Seamus quickly added, feeling the sweat start to build up on the back of his neck again. Hermione's dangerous look vanished, and her tired, bedraggled look returned. "No really, I'm glad you told me, and I would really appreciate it if you would share your bag with Harry tonight. You'd be doing him a really big favour."

Seamus saw that Hermione was fighting desperately to maintain control of her emotions, and was losing the battle. "He needs all the friends he can get now," she whispered, and Seamus saw that she was near tears again.

He walked towards her, and pulled an orange silk hanky out of his pocket, and deftly but tenderly wiped the tears off her cheeks. She mumbled what might have been a thank you, and snatched the hanky out of Seamus's hand, turned, and honked into it rather loudly.

She then folded it in half, and proffered it to Seamus. Seamus backed up a step, and shook his head. "No thanks, that's okay Herm. I must have a million of those, you can keep that one," he said, not entirely truthful, but also not entirely willing to take the hanky back.

She honked loudly into the hanky once again, then pocketed it, to Seamus's immense relief. "So is your stuff far from here?" Seamus shook his head. "Nope, I was going to stay with Fred and George, but I'd rather stay here. At least here, I know I'll get some sleep."

"What's the matter? Are they too much for you to handle?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows challengingly. Seamus matched her gaze, and gestured grandly in what Hermione guessed was the direction of Fred and George's makeshift camp. "Would you like to sleep in the same place as those two?" he asked. Hermione nodded sagely, seeing the wisdom in Seamus's answer.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Ladies first," Seamus said, while gesturing that Hermione should precede him. "Oh… how chivalrous of you. Just don't get any funny ideas. Even though he can act like a royally slimy git sometimes, I still love Draco."

Seamus smiled. Draco was lucky that he had a girl who was this good to him. Most of the girls that Seamus knew wouldn't have taken him back for all the Golden Galleons in the world, even if he were Draco Malfoy. But then again, Hermione wasn't most girls.

"What, me? Do anything dastardly and wicked?" Seamus asked while covering his mouth with one hand, his eyes bulging in mock horror. "Of course not. I'm sure you'll be a perfect gentleman," she responded, brushing her hair away from her face in a casual gesture. He offered Hermione his arm, and she paused for a moment, as if considering whether to take it or not, and then entwined her arm around Seamus's, having decided that his intentions were honourable.

---

Back at the camp, Ron had just finished checking to see if the fire had been put out properly, and Draco was kneeling on the sleeping bag, busy unzipping a very large black and silver duffel bag.

Ron made his way over to Draco, and sat down on the opposite side of the sleeping bag, eyeing Draco's duffel bag with interest. He swung his neck from side to side, feeling the stiff tendons pop and groan with discomfort. When he had finished this, he looked back at Draco, who was now rummaging through the bag and muttering to himself.

"What's in there? It looks like it could hold enough food to feed the Russian army, and then some." Draco looked up, and sneered. "Sorry Weasley, but I don't have any food. Although if you're hungry, a little roasted thigh of Potter would sure hit the spot right now," he said, looking over to Harry's prone form while licking his lips.

Ron yet out a yell of rage. He jumped to his feet, his eyes livid. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT ABOUT HARRY!" he yelled, breathing hard. Draco took no notice of Ron's sudden flare of emotion, and continued rummaging through his bag. "Alright, alright. Sheesh! If dark meat bugs you that much, then I'll let you have the breastbone."

Ron lowered his fists as he realized that Draco was only joking. The urge to pummel him into a meaty pulp was still as strong as ever, but Ron realized that that would only prove Draco's point, and make him no better than a Muggle. Draco looked up, and saw Ron breathing heavily, looking very much like an enraged bull. "You're very sensitive when it comes to Harry, aren't you?" Ron merely nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak.

Draco forced himself to look into Ron's eyes. "Look, I was only joking. I know how much you care about him, and he's very, very lucky to have someone like you." Then he looked down again, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Ron stood where he was for a moment, speechless. It was very strange for him. Before today, he had seen Draco only in black and white. A rich little asshole who cared nothing for other people, and had no friends whatsoever, and today, all that had changed.

In the course of 24 hours, he had seen Draco go from arrogant to angry, to sad, to extreme vulnerability, tenderness, and even compassion. He had felt hate, pity, love and…something else? Understanding? For this boy whose life was not as perfect as it seemed to be.

It occurred to Ron that Draco could have only gotten a bag for himself, thus being extremely selfish, but he had not. He had gotten two bags, and had himself come up with the idea that Harry sleep with Hermione, although he would have probably rather have had their positions reversed.

Ron sat down again, feeling extremely stupid and guilty. For a few more moments, the silence continued, punctuated only by the rustling, shifting sound of whatever Draco was moving around in his oversized duffel bag.

Finally, Ron gathered the courage to speak. "I'm sorry Draco." Draco stopped what he was doing, and slowly turned around, eyeing Ron sceptically. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly? I just baited you," Draco said, his eyes twinkling in the hazy purple twilight.

He twisted all the way around, and sat cross-legged, rubbing his hands together in his lap. "I should be the one saying sorry to you. I've been acting like a royal asshole all night, and if it weren't for me, Hermione wouldn't be so upset." Ron shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. If it weren't for you, we'd be sleeping on rocks tonight, and most likely freeze to death. I started that whole thing, and it's not your fault. Hermione will forgive you. She's a very special girl, and she's lucky to have someone like you. You've been nothing but nice for the most part, and all I've done is tried to beat you to a bloody pulp." Then he looked down at the ground, feeling disgusted with himself.

"Some friend I am," he added, in a voice barely above a whisper. Draco blinked, unable to believe what he had just heard. Had Ron just called him a friend? He bit his lip, choking back tears. He didn't deserve someone like Ron.

Draco opened his mouth to speak again, sounding hoarse and emotional. "Friend?…" he choked out, failing miserably in controlling his volatile emotions. *Nothing new there. You fail pretty much everything else you do to.* Spoke the cold, uncaring part of him, deep within his soul.

Ron felt his face flush as he realized what he had just said. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he stammered stupidly. God! He was such an idiot sometimes! He hardly knew him, and he was calling him his friend?! What was Draco going to think of him now?

He turned, ready to get up and go somewhere, anywhere. He was just about to get up when he felt Draco's hand gently brush his arm. He turned, and saw something that made his heart ache.

Draco was still sitting where he was, cross-legged, but that was the only thing that was the same. His sides were shaking violently, and thick streams of tears were pouring down his cheeks, and dripping onto the sleeping bag. His pearly white teeth were bitten down over his trembling lips, and he looked ready to break down at any moment.

Then Draco opened his mouth, and spoke, his voice quavering and unsteady, finally cracking and breaking on the last word. "I… I would be honoured to call you a friend," Draco said, and then he broke down utterly and totally. He had not even let go of his control this much when he had been alone with Hermione on the train.

He burst into sobs, and sank to his knees while the tears coursed down his cheeks. All day he had tried to deny the events of the morning, to deny that the brutal beating he had undergone at the hands of his father, the coldness and anonymity that his mother had treated him with. This was not new to him. He had gone through this many times before, and each time he had managed to keep himself together, to keep himself in denial, but not this time.

A thought occurred to him that had never occurred to him before, and it chilled him straight to the bone. *It never goes away. Not for you.*Ê He felt his mind recoil in horror, and begin to shut down at this thought. What was it going to be like 10 years from now? 20 years from now? He would always be alone. It would never go away, not for him.

Then he didn't have to think anymore. He felt Ron's warm, strong arms encircle his thin frame, and he lowered his head onto Ron's shoulder, and let himself weep. Ron took Draco in his arms, and felt the blonde boy's arms encircle his waist, and press himself against Ron's body. Ron felt Draco lower his head onto his shoulder, sobbing thickly.

Ron rocked Draco back and forth gently. Through the thin fabric of Draco's robes, he felt what could only have been bruised and lacerated skin. He must have pressed a little too hard on one of the bruises, because he felt Draco whimper in pain. He immediately stopped, and wrapped his hands around Draco's back, and pulled him closer in the tender embrace. This was obviously not the first time that Lucius had taken it into his head the urge to beat Draco senseless. Ron could not feel a single place on Draco's body where he had not been, at the very least, bruised.

Ron felt a murderous hatred toward Draco's parents rise in his throat. They had spent their lives pursuing power, and following the Dark Lord, but had they ever taken the time to care about their son? Their only child, who had done nothing wrong except being cursed with power hungry sadists for parents, who had only wanted their love, but had gotten nothing.

Ron could now see why Draco had always insulted him, or made snide remarks about his family. He had been jealous of Ron's family. Draco, who could have gotten anything his heart desired, had not been able to get a simple, "I love you," from his own parents.

Although Ron didn't say it out loud, he made a silent promise that Draco would spend this summer, and everyone after it at the Burrow. He would not let Lucius Malfoy hurt his son like that ever again.

Gently, Ron ran his hands up and down Draco's sides, feeling the extent of the damage that had been inflicted upon him. As he did this, he silently counted the number of bruises and lacerations on Draco's skin, but he lost count at over 100. There was also the fact that a good percentage of the bruises did not feel as if they had been inflicted recently. He vividly remembered an exchange with Harry, back in their dorm after the Yule Ball, and how they had joked that such a pretty boy was probably too perfect to have a scar on him.

He made a mental note to apologise to Draco for that remark after this was all over. Draco meanwhile, had started to shiver while still sobbing onto Ron's shoulder. Ron was no expert at medicine, but he thought that this was almost like Draco was going into shock.

He had to get Draco warm, and he had to get him warm fast. Gently, he pried Draco's arms off his middle, and quickly crawled over to the duffle bag that Draco had been digging in before Ron had come back.

ÊHe looked inside, and was not too surprised at what he saw. Inside the bag, there were clothes of every shape, colour and size. Ron pulled a couple of them out, marvelling at the silky feel of the fabric. These clothes must have cost more than all of his school supplies. For a moment, Ron felt a burning pang of jealousy and envy towards Draco. Why should he have everything? What makes him so special? Then it passed as quickly as it had come.

Ron felt embarrassment well up within himself again, then he pushed it aside to some far corner of his mind, to be dealt with later. What mattered now was that he get Draco warm, or he would freeze to death. With a renewed feeling of purpose, and a sense of urgency, Ron began to sort through the clothes in the bag as fast as possible, without missing anything.

Ron couldn't help but gape in amazement. Everything in the bag was thin and silky, and not appropriate for winter weather at all. Ron gathered that Draco must have been looking for something that both of them could wear as pyjamas, and had not been able to find anything. Ron kept looking, feeling more and more desperate as the minutes passed. Finally, with a yell of disgust, Ron picked up the duffel bag, and threw it into the woods as far as it would go.

He yelled in triumph, but the yell quickly died on his lips. That had been a stupid thing to do. Dimly, Ron realised that he still had an article of Draco's clothing in his hand. He turned, and looked to see what was there. In his right hand, he held a silky green pair of briefs that looked skintight. Winding around the waistband of the briefs was the image of the black Slytherin snake. Ron screamed in horror, and dropped the underwear to the ground, and wiped his hand on his jeans while backing away from the offending underwear.

"Dear Merlin Draco! That's sick! You're taking your Slytherin pride a little too far, you know that?" Ron asked, unable to tear his gaze from the image of the black serpent writhing across the waistband. Draco didn't answer. "Draco?…" Ron asked, waiting for a response, and getting nothing but silence in return. He turned around, to see Draco shivering with the cold, and something else. * He can't be hurt that bad. * Ron thought. And besides, that, it had been hours since he'd been beaten. If he was going to go into shock, he would have done it before now. Right?

But Ron knew what was really wrong with Draco. He must have blocked out the images from his conscious mind, and now they were returning. Ron knew that Draco was strong, both physically and mentally, but there was only so much a person could take, strong willed or not.

Ron knew what he had to do. Due to his friendship with Harry, he had learned some rudimentary skills in first aid, and winter survival, and now it looked like the latter was about to come in handy. Ron remembered reading somewhere that the best thing to do with a person going into shock, was to get them warm as fast as possible. And right now, there was only one way to do that.

Ron knelt down in front of Draco, and gently placed a hand on the blonde boy's chin, tilting it upward so that Draco was looking into his eyes. Draco's steel grey eyes were becoming misty and clouded over, but they still held the spark of sanity and rationality that Draco always possessed.

Ron cleared his throat, not wanting to slur or stutter, as what he was going to say next was crucial. He wetted his lips, and never broke eye contact with Draco, wanting to make sure that Draco knew exactly what he was saying. "Draco, I know you're very cold, but this is important. I need to ask you something," Ron said, enunciating each word clearly, as if Draco were a small child.

Draco nodded, seemingly unable to speak. His teeth were chattering violently, and he was rubbing his thin hands together, hands that were rapidly turning a ghostly white. Ron cleared his throat again, and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, steadying him.

"Draco, do you trust me?" Ron asked. As he asked this, he could feel the wind start to pick up. He shivered involuntarily, never breaking eye contact with Draco. Draco closed his eyes for a moment, and swayed on his feet. Ron put his left hand on Draco's other shoulder, preparing to catch him when he fell, but it didn't happen.

After a moment, Draco steadied himself, and opened his eyes. Instead of answering, he removed one of Ron's hands from his shoulder, and clasped it in between both of his own. Then, he reached up, and deftly removed the pin of the silver Slytherin serpent from his cloak, and placed it in Ron's hand, and clasped his own over it again.

Ron did not miss the significance of the gesture, although he was dubious about accepting anything Slytherin. Although this wasn't from just any Slytherin, this was from Draco, and it was a sign of his trust. For now, that was good enough for him.

Ron pocketed the pin, and turned his attention to the matter at hand. With calculated, precise movements, Ron pulled Draco's cloak off, then unbuttoned his shirt, and tossed it aside. Then, Ron's hands wandered down to Draco's button fly pants. He quickly unbuttoned Draco's pants, and threw them aside, leaving Draco clad in nothing but a pair of shimmering white boxers.

Ron opened the sleeping bag, and gently eased Draco inside. That done, he removed his own clothes in short order, and hopped in beside Draco, feeling the icy coldness of Draco's body next to his. Although, while he did this, he could not help but notice the flat plane of Draco's chest, and the clearly defined hip bones.

Draco's body was not bulging with muscles, but he had a slinky, catlike look that spoke of grace and dexterity, vulnerability and tenderness, yet, beneath it all, a coldness that Ron doubted anybody had ever penetrated, except for himself. When Draco had nodded, and handed him his pin, Ron had seen into Draco's very soul. He had only just begun to know him today, and yet he felt that he knew him intimately and completely, as only a best friend or a lover truly can.

But it wasn't just Draco's slim figure that drew Ron's rapt attention. Before, when they had fought in the woods, Ron had seen the scars covering only a small portion of Draco's body. While those had been bad enough, they had done nothing to prepare him for the sight lying before him now.

Long bruises and scars that bore testament to Draco's numerous beatings trailed all across the pale, creamy white skin. Some of the bruises were a faded purple, while others were a vivid, stark-red colour. Ron saw that while there was practically no place on Draco's body that had not been beaten; most of the bruises were on his chest, arms and legs, and anything above his shoulders was relatively untouched.

Ron felt fury well up inside himself. How dare they! He was only 15 years old! 15 years old! Hesitantly, Ron reached out, and touched one of the older looking scars on Draco's side, just below his ribcage. He ran his fingers over it, feeling its roughness compared to the skin surrounding it. Without thinking, he took Draco into his arms again.

"I got that one when I was six." Ron let out a small yell of surprise. He had not expected Draco to talk to him. He had thought that Draco's condition would not allow him to speak, yet he had. His voice was slightly shaky, but that was about it. It was also frighteningly neutral, displaying no hint of emotion.

Before Ron could say anything in response to this, Draco continued. "He beat me with a 30 inch long steel wand," he said simply, keeping his voice in the same neutral tone throughout.

Ron could feel his stomach begin to churn. He couldn't believe that Draco could speak about this so casually, as if he were discussing Quidditch over breakfast. He waited for Draco to say something else, but he was silent. Ron's hand wandered to Draco's right arm where he felt several lumps that felt as if they had been inflicted very recently. His suspicions were proved when Draco flinched away from his touch.

"I got those a month ago. That time he used the fire poker," Draco said, his voice quavering on the last syllable. Ron swallowed, and thought of what he would say next. Choosing his words very carefully, he said. "Draco… Does anybody else know how long these beatings have been going on for?" he asked, licking his lips, which suddenly felt very dry.

"Just you. Hermione knows about what happened today, but that's it. I never told her about the other times. Don't worry about it, I can handle it. I'm not going to lay all this on your shoulders, and make it sound like poor, poor Draco, because I'm not. I deserved it."

Ron expected him to burst into tears again, but it didn't happen. He heard Draco drawing in breath to continue, but Ron cut him off. "No Draco, I will worry about it. I don't know what you learned, but I learned that you never desert a friend, especially not one who needs your help." He paused, and took a deep breath, preparing to continue.

"Because it's not your fault Draco. You don't deserve that, and I'm not going to let him touch you again." He waited, expecting Draco to protest vehemently, but he didn't. Satisfied that he was getting his point through, Ron continued. "Draco, how old were you when the beatings started?" He didn't really want to know, but he knew that Draco had to get it off his chest, and, strangely, Ron found that he needed to hear it. Now that Draco had started, there was no turning back.

At this, he did get a response. Draco shied away from his touch into the far corner of the bag, and turned away so that Ron could not see his face, which he had probably decided to hide for good reasons.

Instead of speaking however, he sang very softly. "Say hello, remain close to me… No good-bye suicide mystery…" Ron felt something deep inside him start to break, and he knew that if he heard any more, he would be the one loosing control. "STOP!" he yelled, as loud as he could. Beside him, he felt Draco twitch with shock, and then press himself further into the right side of the sleeping bag. Ron sighed, and put a hand over his suddenly throbbing head. Why couldn't anything be simple?

"Look Draco, I didn't mean it like that. It's been a long day, and it was just kind of…" "Kind of what? Creepy? Scary? Unnatural? Thanks for your opinion Ron, from now on I'll just keep my mouth shut." "It's not that, and you know it! I don't know why I didn't like it, but you know that it's not because of you. Any other day I would love to hear you sing, but now, I'm just really tired, that's all."

Draco relaxed, and mimicked Ron by laying one of his own hands over his eyes, and slowly massaging the bridge of his nose. "Ok, I guess you're right Ron. But it was still better then, say, "Lucius Malfoy and The Death Eaters Sing The Blues" right?" Ron snorted laughter, and tried unsuccessfully to muffle the sound in his pillow. Soon, Draco joined him, tears rolling down his face. After a while, their laughter died down to soft chuckles, and then faded away all together. "Now that would be a scary sight. It's almost as scary as the thought of your dad doing the can-can." Then burst into another round of belly shaking laughter, but Draco didn't join him.

Seeing that Draco wasn't getting the joke, Ron bit down on his lip until the laughter subsided again. He squirmed for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. It turned out that he didn't have to. "Look, I'm not trying to avoid the subject or anything, but I would… really like it if we won't talk about dad," Draco said, his eyes closed.

Draco's lips twisted in a kind of bitter grimace, as if he was remembering something, but the memories were anything but pleasant. "You know, camp is a great place for shooting the shit," Ron said halfheartedly, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

Draco rolled over to face Ron again, and Ron could see where the tears had traced tracks down his cheeks, *Inside I own my shame, apparitions…* and Ron could feel his own heart aching more furiously then ever for Draco's plight. "Believe me Ron, there's no one that I would rather shoot the shit with than you." And with that, Draco clasped his hand around Ron's, and then grabbed him in a one armed brotherly hug.

Then he fell back on the sleeping bag, his eyelids beginning to droop shut. Ron knew how he felt. Right about now, he felt that if he did or said anything more, his brain would turn into something resembling very lumpy Jell-O. Right before he was about to fall into a deep sleep, he heard Draco's voice a few inches from his right ear. "Damn, I feel like we forgot something," he mumbled, while brushing a few strands of hair away from his eyes.

Ron couldn't help but smirk. "Why yes, I guess we did. Tomorrow's to do list: 1. Be rescued by the Ministry. 2. Try not to get killed by any roaming Death Eaters." Draco punched him hard in the back. "Not that you boob! It feels like we forgot somebody, but I don't know who."

Ron frowned. Come to think of it, it did feel like they'd forgotten somebody, but who? Hermione was gone with Seamus to Fred and George's camp to get Seamus's sleeping bag, and- "HARRY!" Ron bolted upright, like a Jack-In-The-Box, and groped blindly for his shirt, which he had left somewhere on the ground. Beside him, Draco harrumphed loudly. "I knew I'd forgotten something. So sorry." Ron frowned, a bit put off at Draco's triteness on the subject of forgetting Harry, but then shrugged it off. After all, it wasn't his fault, now, was it?

Then, Ron's hands fell on the sleeping bag, and, feeling something there, clamped down on it. Unfortunately, this something was not an article of clothing, nor did it resemble Ron's missing shirt in any way.

Draco screamed in pain, and Ron quickly let go. If it were not for the darkness, he would have had a lot of explaining to do. Draco cursed very loudly, and scrunched up into a ball as another wave of pain hit him. "Damn it Ron! Thanks to you, I've got the complete set of injuries now."

Ron continued to feel around, being careful not to let his hands stray anywhere near the sleeping bag. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Quickly he shrugged his shirt on, and began to squirm out of the sleeping bag, muttering a quick, "Sorry about that Draco," as he did.

Moving more by sense than by sight, he soon found Harry's sleeping form. Kneeling down, Ron put a hand on Harry's cheek, feeling its icy coldness. With a grunt, Ron pulled him up, and made his way back to his own bag, grunting with the effort of supporting Harry's dead weight.

When he got back, he could see Draco's vague outline propped up in a sitting position, rubbing his arms vigorously. "You ok?" Ron asked as he laid Harry down gently. Draco nodded, and Ron caught a glimpse of his wet, grey cloud-like eyes. "Can you give me a hand?" Draco nodded, and Ron could have sworn that he was smiling. As quickly as they could, without missing anything, Ron and Draco began to undress Harry.

While Ron struggled with Harry's shoes, he heard Draco say, "It's lucky that we remembered. These bags get pretty cold when it's just yourself in them." Ron nodded in assent. "Yeah, I guess he is. I can't believe I forgot him, he could have froze." For a few moments, there was no sound except Ron's strenuous breathing as he struggled with Harry's shoes.

"How are you faring? I can't seem to get these damn shoes off." "Pretty good. These clothes are quite user friendly when it comes to removing them." Ron rolled his eyes and sighed. "Draco, you are a horny bastard, you know that?" Instead of a direct response, all Ron got was the sound of the buttons on Ron's robe being undone, then a surprised gasp.

"What? What's wrong?" Ron asked, more than a little bit worried. "That has to be the sexiest bellybutton I've ever seen," Draco whispered, in something close to a state of awe. Ron groaned. Draco's hormones were becoming quite tiresome. "I could eat off that bellybutton. Hell, I could just eat it."

Ron squirmed, feeling more then a little bit uncomfortable at the comments being directed towards his boyfriend's bellybutton. "Honestly Draco, can you lay off on the bellybutton already?" "No Ron, you don't get it. This bellybutton is sexy. With a capital S. You should see it." And with that, Draco pulled out his wand and muttered "Lumos" and a small light appeared, illuminating Harry's bellybutton.

Ron couldn't help but look. It was an innie, and it was perfect, although Ron didn't know why Draco got such a rise out of bellybuttons. He supposed it was just Draco's hormones going into overdrive.

"That's great Draco. Now can we please hurry this up? I'm freezing out here." Draco shrugged. "No problem. You know, I have a few shirts that we could wear. They might help." He reached over to where his bag had been before Ron had thrown it into the woods.

"Ron, what did you do with my bag?" "Err…" Draco looked up, with a raised eyebrow. "What does err mean? Tell me you didn't throw it in the woods, or something stupid like that." But before Ron could answer, Draco caught sight of the green underwear that Ron had dropped.

"You did, didn't you? It figures that you'd do something stupid like that. You should learn how to stop going by your instincts." Ron curled his hands into fists, and pounded his legs. "Look, I don't need you lecturing me. I'll go get your precious bag, just give me a minute."

Draco smiled. He would have come back with a witty remark, but at the moment, he was just too tired. Moments later, Harry was undressed, and lying beside Draco while Ron went off to retrieve the duffel bag.

Draco looked over Harry, curious as he had never been this close to The Boy Who Lived. Draco had always known that Harry probably had a muscular physique, although he had never seen it. He had only encountered Harry in full school or Quidditch robes. *I wonder what Potter would say if he knew I was ravishing his beautiful young virgin body with my eyes?* ÊDraco thought, amused at how Harry would probably react.

His amusement quickly vanished however, as he imagined what Harry would think once he saw his beautiful, virgin, young body. Although he only lived up to the "virgin" and "young" parts of that statement. What would Harry say if he saw his horribly scarred skin? He would speculate about the horribly scarred mind underneath, most likely, and Draco most certainly did not need that, especially from Harry Potter.

It wasn't that Draco was afraid that Harry would blab it to the whole school, far from it. Draco had shared an intense rivalry with Harry ever since his first year, and if Harry were to see him like this, he would lose any respect that had from Harry. He would be just another person who Harry would give his famous "charity" to, and Draco most certainly did not want Harry's charity.

He had no doubt that once Harry awoke, the two of them would probably become friends. He did not hate Harry, he wasn't even jealous of him. He knew that Harry was in pretty much the same boat he was in, except he had fame instead of the fear that came Draco's way. He earned people's respect, and Draco just got it because of his father.

Draco supposed that they had immediately disliked each other from the moment they came to Hogwarts because their personalities clashed. They were both loyal, honest, trustworthy and brave, it was just that Draco had never gotten the chance to demonstrate that he possessed these qualities.

He had no doubt that Dumbledore knew, but Dumbledore knew everything. It was nearly impossible to keep a secret from the loved and respected Headmaster of Hogwarts. The only thing that gave Draco pride, was knowing that he was Harry's equal, and he had no doubt that Harry knew it to.

He turned to pick up his wand, and he felt something in his side cry out in pain. He stopped, and bit down on his lip to stifle a scream. He closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to abate, which it did, but very slowly. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Ron returned with the duffel bag full of clothes. "What kept you?" Ron shrugged, and plopped himself down beside Harry. "It's really dark out there. I couldn't find the bag." "What about your wand?" "Hermione's still got it."

Draco didn't answer, as he was busy rummaging through the slightly dirty bag. "Here we are," he said, and then pulled out three identical silky white shirts. Ron looked at them sceptically, but put his on without saying anything, after which Draco quickly followed, relieved that his scars were now out of sight.

Together, the two of them managed to wrestle Harry into his shirt, and then they slipped into the bag, Ron on the left, Harry on the right, and Draco in the middle. "Do you think Hermione and Seamus will be back?" asked Draco as soon as they were all settled in.

Ron shook his head. "Nope, the wind's way too strong now. They'll probably sleep with Fred and George tonight, I'm sure they've got room." Draco nodded, and then found his gaze wandering up towards the stars. "Wow… would you look at that." "The stars?" "Yeah, the only other place that I've seen them like this is in the woods outside home."

"Harry likes stars to, I think they help him get his mind off the Dursleys. If he could see this, I'm sure he'd like it." Draco smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. "I can relate to that. Sometimes the most beautiful thing in the world is those stars at night. They're like little lamps, poking holes in the darkness."

"Wow… that's beautiful Draco." Draco snorted, and his face contorted painfully, he felt the tears threatening to well up again. "You know, sometimes it's not the stars that poke holes in the darkness. Sometimes people reach out to someone else, and they poke holes in somebody else's darkness, and I think you know who I mean."

For a moment, Ron was overcome with sheer emotion, and couldn't speak. Finally, he was able to choke out the words. "Thank you Draco." Draco rolled over so that he was facing Ron, and this time Ron could see the smile on Draco's face. "No, thank you Ron."

And without another word, they both drifted off into a deep, well-deserved sleep.