Harry Potter and the Death Eater's Son

8. In the Absence of a Full Moon

Harry woke early the following morning. Instead of feeling frustrated that he should still be sleeping at that time on a Saturday, he lay in bed in a sleepy haze, remembering the events of the previous evening. He kept playing the scenes over in his head as his fingers drifted lazily across his belly and further downwards. Those soft lips melding into his own; the feel of fine hair as he ran his fingers through it; the sensation of broomstick-roughened hands playing at the back of his neck; arms wrapped around him, holding him tight as he felt Malfoy under his own hands; the heat from their combined bodies; and when Malfoy had started to kiss his neck--

"For crying out loud, Harry," Ron shouted at him in a drowsy slur. "Go and do that in the shower--we don't want to hear you moaning and groaning first thing in the morning."

Harry blanched, jerking his hand away from his painfully hard erection, mortified that he had been so verbal with his fantasy. He muttered a feeble apology before padding out to the showers to finish what he had started, in peace.

He wasn't able to meet up with Malfoy on Saturday, as they had originally planned, because Snape had given Harry a detention for Saturday night. Snape had caught Harry in a classroom helping Hermione look for Crookshanks, and he proceeded to lecture Harry on not entering the rooms outside of lesson times. Harry bitterly noted that Snape hadn't given anyone else a detention--even though it was obvious that several students were participating in the search. So Harry ended up stuck in the potions lab, with Snape glaring at him, having to scrub cauldrons without the use of magic until the early hours of the morning.

When he arrived at the Room of Requirement on Sunday evening, he found that the room had changed slightly. The two chairs that were usually present were missing. Instead, Malfoy was sprawled out on a large, plump sofa that had an extra-wide seat--almost the size of a single bed--but with arms and a low back to it.

"We've been upgraded--and we can lock the door now. I was hoping for a bed, but I guess this'll have to do," Malfoy jested. "I bet this room's been rigged by Dumbledore so that it doesn't do beds." He sat up and made a space next to him that Harry eagerly filled.

"If that was the case, I don't think we would have got the lock, either," Harry said.

They chatted about neutral topics for a while, such as Quidditch and homework, testing the waters to see how things would develop between them. Harry's breath frequently hitched at Malfoy's expressive mannerisms and the occasional sideways glance that Malfoy made through his fringe as it fell across his face. Harry soon found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation. Catching the look of distraction on Harry's face, Malfoy trailed off to flash Harry a beaming smile and raise his eyebrows in a way that Harry found positively scandalous; Harry's stomach flipped.

Catching his breath, Harry cautiously leant forward to kiss Malfoy, still a bit worried that he might have had a change of heart since Friday. To his relief Malfoy confidently kissed him back. Harry reached out a hand and ran it along Malfoy's shoulders, pulling their bodies closer together and letting the softness of Malfoy's robe run under his fingers. He let his hands wander, exploring the entirety of Malfoy's back, feeling the outline of muscles through the layers of clothing. In response, Malfoy wrapped both his arms around Harry and began kissing him fervently. Harry's head started to swim. It was hard to work out where he ended and Malfoy began. He heard a noise of contentment escape from his mouth, and he felt heat filling his groin. This was too intense; he needed to calm down.

"I could do with a bed," Harry said breathlessly as he pulled back slightly. He then blushed, as he knew exactly how Malfoy would take it.

"Because you do have nasty plans for me!"

"Because I'm tired," Harry clarified hastily. "What with detention last night, Quidditch this morning, and the rest of the day chasing round looking for Hermione's cat, absolutely shattered is probably a better description."

"At least you didn't get another detention tonight. Snape's really got it in for you, hasn't he," Malfoy laughed. "You know, I've been thinking back over what Snape's been like since it was decided that I should get the Dark Mark. It's pretty obvious, in hindsight. All those times he's been telling me I could trust him and to talk to him about it, he was just trying to get me to admit that I didn't want it. I guess it's really put his nose out of joint that you're the one who persuaded me not to have it, you're the one who I ended up trusting."

"If he'd given me another detention tonight I think I would have ended up in the hospital wing," Harry joked, half-serious. "Still, it might have gotten me out of that Potions project." Harry was referring to coursework Snape had given them the previous week that needed to be finished by the end of the summer term. It was for a coagulation potion for treatment of internal bleeding. Snape had listed the ingredients that they would need; the project involved working out the amounts of the ingredients required and how they would need to be prepared.

"You're worried about the project? It's not that hard, Potter. It just involves reading a few books. Surely reading's not that big a deal--even for a Gryffindork."

"Reading books isn't a problem; it's just that I had enough trouble with potions when I knew what I had to do with the ingredients."

"Well, if you get stuck, I suppose I could help. But not until you've had a decent go of it; you might surprise yourself."

"Do you realise that you're starting to sound like Hermione?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, less than pleased with Harry's observation. "No comment, on the grounds that it could do irreparable damage between us. Just don't even consider saying anything that libellous again."

Faced with Harry in the midst of a titanic yawn, Malfoy pulled a cushion from behind his back and laid it on his lap. "Come on, lie down, you pathetic creature."

Harry chuckled and spread himself across the sofa, wrapping his arms around Malfoy's waist and snuggling his face into Malfoy's belly. He lay there as Malfoy toyed with his hair and traced the outlines of his facial features, listening to Malfoy talking about his latest Quidditch practise. After a while, Harry was no longer able to pay attention to the details, only to the melodious rise and fall of Malfoy's lilting voice. He felt very relaxed and drowsy, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep.

He awoke to the sound of a slow rhythmic heavy breathing, half-smothered by a warm body. Malfoy had also fallen asleep and had managed to lay half-on, half-off the sofa with his legs dangling free; he was leaning across Harry's frame, his face resting on Harry's hip. The room was in shadow, the coals on the fire being nearly burnt out.

"Malfoy," Harry whispered, shaking him gently. "Malfoy, you're drooling on my trousers."

Malfoy's eyes pinged open, and he looked around for a moment, disorientated.

"Shit, what time is it Potter?"

"I've no idea," Harry said, giving Malfoy a shove so they could both sit up. "I guess we should be getting back."

When he arrived back at the dorm, Harry was shocked that it was already half past three. At least I spent some of the time sleeping, he mused as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep for the second time that evening.

***

The next day, Harry was quite content to work his way through lessons in a sleepy haze. He had arranged to meet up with Malfoy again that evening, and he hoped they would have the chance to enjoy each other's company more, instead of just Harry falling asleep. Unfortunately, he had potions, and Snape was feeling particularly venomous due to a jar of bezoars having been stolen from his office the night before. He had found the jar and all of the bezoars, minus one, in the Slytherin common room that morning, but he was not ruling out Gryffindor intervention. He pointedly looked Harry's way several times as he ranted about the theft. Harry knew that another detention was inevitable, and Snape did not fail to meet Harry's expectations.

Ron equated finding the bezoars in the Slytherin common room with Malfoy, and Millicent was very eager to encourage this, letting everyone know she'd seen him walking towards the potions classroom the previous evening. In silent rebellion, Harry half-heartedly blamed the theft on Millicent. Seeing as he was using Malfoy as a pillow at the time of the theft, he knew it couldn't have been Malfoy. It was very frustrating that he couldn't say anything--he couldn't exactly point out Malfoy hadn't been walking towards the potions classroom but towards the Room of Requirement.

Harry hoped that he might be able to meet up with Malfoy at lunch, in an empty classroom, but he didn't get the chance. Crookshanks was still missing, and Hermione had decided to spend some time carrying out research in the library, believing that his disappearance might be linked to that of Pig and Trevor. Harry couldn't come up with a reason not to join them, and he found that his company was welcome now that he could help Hermione and Ron with finding out more information on potions.

"Hermione, what exactly are you hoping to find?" Harry asked, not understanding anymore what they were going to achieve by spending all this time wading through books.

They had begun to look through the Restricted Section, and because of this, the number of potions they had come across was still close to forty--all requiring elf owl feathers, parts of toad, and parts of cat, specifically ginger cat. Hermione had been close to tears when reading about the different cat parts used in some of the potions.

Hermione dragged her eyes away from the heavy tome she was currently absorbed in.

"The reason why our animals were taken," she replied. "You know that."

"Yes, but what are you going to do once you find out? It's not as if we could do anything with that information. And so far, we still haven't been able to narrow it down any further, anyway. Even if we did, I don't understand how it would benefit us to know exactly which one it is. It's probably either a potion-alternative to a transfiguration spell, or one used as an alternative to a full moon--"

"Sorry," Ron interrupted in confusion. "I still don't get the full moon ones."

Ignoring Harry's query, Hermione turned to Ron to give him an explanation. "They're used to brew certain plants so they don't have to be picked under the full moon when this is specified for other potions," she began, but Ron was still looking a bit bewildered. "For example, if we had known about them in the second year we could've completed the Polyjuice Potion a lot quicker. The fluxweed had to be picked at full moon, but if we'd prepared... say this potion," Hermione pointed to a potion on the page she had been reading. "Then we could've picked the fluxweed at any time and just brewed it for," she paused to read the notes in the book, "forty-five minutes in this potion before adding it to the Polyjuice."

"Oh, I see," Ron said, having caught on. "So, why does any plant have to be picked under the full moon then, when you can use these potions?"

"I'm not sure that they work on all plants," Hermione speculated. "And the full-moon potions all seem to be relatively new. They've only been developed in the past fifteen years or so; a lot of the spell books we use were written before these alternatives were available."

"But Hermione," Harry said, stubbornly persisting with his previous question. "What help is it going to be if we manage to narrow it down to any of the potions we've listed so far?"

"Maybe, if we can find out the potion, we could work out who might be responsible," she insisted feebly.

Harry did feel for Hermione; he knew she felt partly responsible for letting Crookshanks get taken--even though there wasn't anything that she could have done to stop it from happening. It was obvious she was just waiting for a clue to jump out at her, but for once, research didn't seem to be telling her the answers that Hermione was hoping for. But what else can she do? Harry guessed that it just made her feel better about losing Crookshanks if she thought she could be doing something constructive. So Harry continued to play along to appease Hermione's sense of frustration.

As he carried on looking through books, he discovered an interesting transfiguration potion that also required the use of a bezoar; the potion was designed to change an animagus to animal form involuntarily. The bezoar removed the poisons inherent in the potion that would otherwise kill the animagus. He pointed it out to the others, and then immediately wished he hadn't. Mentioning the bezoar only reminded Ron of his chief suspect. Harry sat there, not daring to respond, as he listened to Ron listing all the things he was going to do to Malfoy once he had proof that Malfoy had taken Crookshanks and Pig.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Snape made it abundantly clear he didn't appreciate Malfoy's choice of company in Harry. He continued to make it as difficult as possible for Harry to spend time with Malfoy, giving Harry detentions at every opportunity and dragging out the Occlumency lessons as late as he could. During Occlumency, Harry got the impression that Snape was making a concerted effort to break through Harry's barriers to find out about their relationship. In response, Harry worked even harder during his lessons, hoping that Snape would never find out just how well he and Malfoy were getting along now.

He still managed to get together with Malfoy--especially over the Easter holidays when Harry was able to avoid Snape completely. And although Ron and Hermione did use the Room of Requirement on a couple of occasions, Harry and Malfoy were often able to use the room, enabling them to make the most of the little time they had with a sense of undisturbed privacy. Harry found it very refreshing to have someone with whom he could relax so completely; it left him feeling very contented to have a warm body that he could snuggle up to in the evenings. He'd never experienced anything like this before, and he was a bit baffled that he had become so close to someone who threatened to kill him only last year. When they were alone, they frequently lost all sense of time, often arriving back at their dorms between three and four in the morning. After nights like these, Harry found it difficult to keep awake during lessons, and he had to sneak off for catnaps during break times. Meeting up with Malfoy the evening after such a late night meant they usually ended up sleeping on the sofa curled up together--which Harry found to be a very pleasurable experience, and so much better than sleeping on his own in the dorm. But Hermione had commented on a couple of occasions on Harry's tiredness; because of this they had taken to setting an alarm to avoid getting back quite so late.

Frequently, they became a little hot under the collar, but it took them a few weeks before they were brave enough to let things go too far. Up until that point, Harry had been surreptitiously attending to his own desires back in the dorm afterwards--the evenings having been punctuated with breathless conversation whenever either one of them felt that the situation had become too intense.

Malfoy was first to push things further.

As usual, they were sitting together in the centre of the sofa, devouring each other's faces, hands running across freely across bodies--but never venturing beneath the lowest layer of clothing or below the waist. Harry felt the urge to apply some friction to his groin, and he instinctively began to pull back, to break the moment so he could cool down a little. Malfoy didn't let him. Instead, Harry found himself being pushed backwards with Malfoy accompanying him on his descent. Once horizontal, Malfoy lay flush against him, placing a leg between Harry's and continuing the frantic connection with Harry's mouth. Malfoy began to rub himself on Harry's hip, creating the wonderful friction that Harry so desperately desired. Without thinking, Harry automatically ground his own hips upwards, against Malfoy. They soon broke off their kiss to concentrate on keeping an angle and a rhythm that suited them both. Only the briefest of moments passed before Harry groaned, feeling the pressure build up and then suddenly release. He was only dimly aware of an echoing moan coming from above him, just afterwards, as Malfoy also spent himself.

"I don't think we're going to break any world records for staying power," Malfoy said breathlessly and with a sly grin before pressing a kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry kissed back lazily, frowning as he felt clothing sticking to his hip. He shifted and Malfoy moved out of the way so that Harry could right himself, and Harry immediately began undoing his trousers.

"What are you up to, Potter?"

"Cleaning the mess," Harry replied, tilting his hips upwards off the sofa and holding his trousers open at the front whilst pointing his wand at the mess. Malfoy cringed.

"Abluere!"

"Now that's brave, even for a Gryffindor!" Malfoy announced, clearly impressed. "What exactly was that spell?"

"It's one of the gentler cleaning charms. I ended up learning several when I was bitten by a Malaclaw last year, but then you'd know all about that, wouldn't you," Harry said, giving Malfoy a pointed look, and Malfoy responded by looking suitably remorseful. "Do you want me to do the same charm on you?"

"Something tells me you're still bitter over that incident."

"It did end up with me breaking the broom my godfather bought me: my Firebolt."

"Ah, in that case, I think I'll have to decline your offer," Malfoy shifted to the edge of the sofa. "I'm sorry, Potter. I was a bit of an arse, wasn't I? I tell you what, you teach me that spell, and then you can have a laugh at my expense while I turn myself into a eunuch."

They started by pouring a small amount of butterbeer on the table. After only a couple of attempts Malfoy was able to perform the spell quite adequately.

"I still don't feel that confidant about pointing a wand down there."

"You just need a little more practise," Harry said, a little mischievously. He picked up the flagon of butterbeer once more, and before Malfoy could work out what was about to happen, Harry quickly poured some down the front of Malfoy's shirt.

"Aaah! You bastard--that's bloody cold," Malfoy complained, giving Harry a disgruntled look.

Harry grinned, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight of the wet clothing clinging to Malfoy's chest. "You'd better hurry up and clean it off then."

"If you're going to look at me like that, I'm not sure I want to clean it off."

"Don't worry, there's plenty more butterbeer where that came from," Harry pointed out suggestively.

Malfoy smirked, and he obediently cast the spell.

"Hmm, now where shall I pour this next?" Harry teased.

Malfoy said nothing. He just looked up at Harry through his eyelashes in a sultry fashion, leaning back and deliberately parting his legs, pushing his hips slightly forward. He looked positively edible, sitting so provocatively, waiting for Harry to pour cold butterbeer over the front of his trousers. Harry was sorely tempted to, but he felt far too nervous about any potential consequences. He wasn't sure that he was ready to follow things through just yet, especially since he only had a vague idea about what "following things through" would entail. After a moment of internal deliberation, Harry couldn't resist the temptation to take advantage in a different way than Malfoy had hoped. He held the flagon over Malfoy's lap and began to tilt it ever so slowly, savouring the tense sexual anticipation that Malfoy was exuding. Just before the liquid seeped over the lip, he lifted it sharply, letting the contents spill over Malfoy's head. Malfoy was not impressed. He was saturated.

"Oi, you exasperating Gryffindork!"

Harry doubled up laughing. Expecting Malfoy to tackle him, he looked up to see Malfoy just sitting there staring at him with a bemused expression, butterbeer dripping from his sodden hair.

"You really know how to spoil the moment," Malfoy said dryly, but he couldn't hold back the tiniest of smirks from making an appearance. "Is this something you've been working on, or are you just gifted?"

Harry tried to look remorseful, but couldn't manage it around the grin that was plastered across his face. Even so, he did feel a bit guilty that, because of his lack of confidence, Malfoy would have to wait before being able to pursue things further between them. A trickle of butterbeer caught his attention as it dripped onto Malfoy's neck and ran downwards to disappear under the collar of his shirt. Harry realised that he was staring a little too intently, and he caught Malfoy's eye once more--he could tell that Malfoy knew what he had been looking at. But he was okay with that: he could follow through with this impulse; he could do necks.

"Shall I help to clean you off?" Harry asked seductively, manoeuvring himself so that he was straddling Malfoy.

"Surprisingly enough, I'm not entirely sure that I trust you at the moment," Malfoy stated, matter-of-factly, trying to appear unruffled about Harry's new position.

"It's not as if there's any butterbeer left," Harry pointed out before leaning in to take a swipe at Malfoy's neck with his tongue.

"Carry on like that and I might bring myself to forgive you..." Malfoy trailed off in a gasp as Harry avidly complied, tracing the contours of Malfoy's throat and lapping at the sweet butterbeer.

Harry savoured the feel of Malfoy's soft skin under his lips, taking his time as he worked his way downwards, ever so slowly following the same path that the trickle of butterbeer had taken before. A pleasant, dizzy sensation spun through his head when he felt Malfoy take a firm hold of his hips, and he resisted the urge to speed up in his reawakening desire. As he neared Malfoy's collar, he placed a hand onto the sticky mop of hair and gently pulled Malfoy's head further to the side. With his other hand, Harry loosened Malfoy's neckline slightly and held the collar down before kissing all the way down to the place where neck met shoulder. Harry wanted more. He wanted to remove Malfoy's shirt completely and explore more of the pale skin, but he was scared by the intensity of the moment. Therefore, when the alarm suddenly rang out through their charged fumblings, it came as a relief to Harry, an excuse to run away from the situation he felt he had inadvertently created.

Malfoy pouted as Harry resolutely climbed off from his lap. Harry listened to him complain and then beg to have a late night for a change, but at this point, Harry was not prepared to offer anything other than a consolatory kiss.

"I don't want you to think I'm too easy," Harry said, trying to sound more confident that he felt.

Malfoy reluctantly accepted Harry's help to remove all traces of butterbeer using magic; he still wasn't prepared to trust Harry with taking care of the mess inside his trousers, and so Malfoy cleaned that himself, grimacing as he did so. Once they were both hidden underneath Harry's cloak, Harry walked Malfoy down to the dungeons--which he did most evenings, Malfoy often making fun of him for this by calling him a "proper gentlemen" for "walking me home".

On the way back--and after he had finished sulking--Malfoy began to talk about having completed his Potions project the day before.

"Would you could help me with mine?" Harry asked, still failing miserably at his own project.

"Yeah, all right. How far have you got?"

"Er, I haven't," Harry admitted. "I have tried, but I can't get the hang of chopping the horsetail without bruising it too much, and I haven't been able to work out how long the bistort needs boiling for."

"Simmer! You're supposed to simmer, not boil. You really are hopeless, aren't you? How did you manage to pass your O.W.L.s?" Malfoy looked at him in mock horror. "Anyway, what do I get in return for helping you?"

"A sense of fulfilment at doing a good deed?"

They stopped at the top of the steps where they usually parted, and Malfoy pulled Harry close.

"You know I'm far too shallow for that to be enough motivation. No, in return I think that next time, I'd like to... you know... with my hand," he said, sounding a little unsure. He trailed a hand downwards over Harry's chest and abdomen, resting it lightly on the front of Harry's trousers to illustrate what he was saying.

Harry inhaled sharply, feeling the blood begin to drain from the top half of his body.

"Wou... would you like me to, as well?" Harry stammered.

"Only if you want to, Potter. You don't have to say yes. Just think about it."

They kissed firmly before parting, Harry feeling as if he'd been knocked for six.

***

Harry could do nothing else but think about Malfoy's proposition. The thought of finally touching Malfoy and being touched by Malfoy there was tantalising. He imagined the blissful sensation of Malfoy's warm fingers curling round him, and then what it would be like to make Malfoy gasp in the same way. He hadn't been brave enough to take the initiative for himself--so much for being a Gryffindor! But now Malfoy had taken control, and Harry was more than happy to go along with him. There was no way he was going to turn it down--especially as he was going to get help with his potions homework as well! He even had dreams about it that night, awaking the next morning complete with erection and vivid mental images. His mouth was overtly dry during breakfast, making it hard to swallow anything, and it was hard to write properly in Charms due to his hands being so clammy. Throughout the first half of the morning, he was lost in a pleasant daydream, wishing for the next two days to pass quickly. In this dreamy state, Defence Against the Dark Arts came as a bit of a shock to the system.

This year they shared these lessons with the Ravenclaws. As usual, Harry was sitting next to Seamus, two rows behind Ron and Hermione. Seamus was chatting with Neville on his other side and relaying the latest news from his mum. Harry couldn't bring himself to be interested, and he gazed off into space instead, barely paying attention to anything Professor Lupin was saying. He half acknowledged Lupin asking Padma for an example--of what, he couldn't say--and Harry was extremely grateful he hadn't been asked himself. She was halfway through her answer when Harry's attention was brought back to the present moment with a snap. Professor Lupin had suddenly doubled over in pain, letting out a moan--or was that a howl?--of agony.

"Professor, what's wrong?" Padma asked.

"Get... out... go!" Lupin commanded. "Lock the door... Tell the headmaster."

A low growling began to resonate throughout the classroom, and Harry jumped up with a start. Lupin was changing into his werewolf state, during the day, without a full moon. Turning round to follow the rest of the students out of the class, his stomach sank to his feet as saw that some of them had already made it to the door, but they were unable to leave. The door wouldn't open. Looking back at the Professor, he could see the skin of Lupin's hands rapidly being covered with the growth of thick, wiry hair. Lupin's body was spasmodically shaking, and the growling was occasionally punctuated by a high-pitched whining. Frantic cries of "alohomora!" could be heard from the back of the classroom; a couple of desperate students tried to break through the door by pounding against it with chairs. Harry's heart began to thud loudly within his chest, and it felt as if he had to force air into his lungs. It was too late: the change was nearly complete. He stumbled backwards, groping in his robes for his wand, as the slavering beast rose up on its powerful limbs, snarling and sniffing at the air. It gave a deafening growl, and the class lapsed into silence, staring, dumbfounded, at their fate.

"But it's not full moon," Neville whined.

"That's really not very helpful," Ron snapped back.

The creature padded down the classroom to where the students were packed together like sheep, sniffing the air as if finding out what was on the menu for dinner. Harry stumbled slightly in his retreat when he saw the werewolf's gaze come to rest on him, as if it had made up its mind that Harry was going to be the first course.

"We can't just stun him," Harry croaked feebly. "Werewolves are too strong to be taken down by a stupefying charm given by any one of us."

"Perhaps if we hit him all at once?" Hermione suggested.

The werewolf chose that moment to take a leap in Harry's direction, and they all lifted their wands and shouted in unison.

"Stupefy!"

They had managed to knock it backwards several feet, and it yelped in pain as it hit the ground. Breaths were held in a moment of tense silence. Then the werewolf lurched and struggled back to its feet. Those who were next to the door had begun banging on it frantically, shouting and screaming. Others were shouting out random suggestions above the noise.

"We've got to try a stronger spell."

"Perhaps we could throw a few chairs at it."

"Does anyone know how to transfigure things into silver? We could use our wands to fire something at him."

"But... but it's Professor Lupin!" Harry protested, not knowing who had come up with the idea.

"It's a werewolf, Harry, and it's planning on having us for lunch," Padma responded tetchily. "I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas."

"It doesn't matter anyway, transfiguring things into silver involves dark magic," Seamus pointed out. Harry acknowledged that Seamus was probably right: he knew Seamus had previously tried to transfigure a few items into silver back in the first year, following his failed attempts to transfigure water into rum. "We'd need a Death Eater to do that."

Another growl, another lurch, another joint casting of stupefy! and then the door was suddenly pushed inwards. The students poured out of the classroom, and the werewolf, noticing that its prey was now escaping, leapt forward to try and catch the stragglers, of which Harry was one. Feeling the hot breath close behind him, he desperately tried to make it to the doorway.

"Soporo!" It was Malfoy's voice, and with it came a shot of blue light that passed by Harry's shoulder. He briefly glanced back to see the werewolf, which was still conscious but distracted long enough for him to make his escape. Harry pulled the door shut behind him. A huge bang rang through the woodwork as the wolf threw itself at the door from the other side.

"It's not going to hold," Hermione anxiously pointed out.

Harry scanned the remaining students, trying to find Malfoy. What was he doing here? A few students had moved on down the hallway, running to safety and to get help. From amongst the remainder, Harry saw Malfoy step out, his face swollen on one side, dried blood at the base of his nose. The Slytherin drew his wand, aiming at the door.

"Foris argentatus!" he shouted, and a covering of silver flowed across the door.

"Looks like we've found our Death Eater," Seamus said pointedly.

Malfoy just ignored him, and Harry threw Seamus a glare before turning towards Malfoy.

"Thanks," he simply stated, knowing that even if they hadn't been friends, he would have acknowledged Malfoy's help. But it felt very odd, talking to him in public. Did it show? Could anyone tell what he and Malfoy had been getting up to? Could anyone see how worried he was about Malfoy's face?

"Why didn't anyone open the door?" Malfoy asked as he looked at the door and surveyed his handiwork. Harry knew the question was addressed to him, even though Malfoy had done his best to cover up that fact by leaving it open for anyone to answer. Malfoy kept his voice restrained and cold, and his face expressionless.

"Don't you think we tried?" Harry answered sarcastically when no one else bothered to reply. He tried to imitate Malfoy's distance, very aware of this conversation being the centre of attention. All he wanted to do was to hug Malfoy. He could feel himself shaking from the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins, and this false interaction with Malfoy wasn't helping. "What happened to you?"

"Had a bit of a disagreement with er, someone," Malfoy responded cagily, his eyes briefly darting at Hermione as he did so. "I was on my way up to the hospital wing when I passed the room and heard shouting."

Malfoy gave a nervous glance at the others who were still standing in the hallway before finally turning tail and leaving.

"Will somebody tell me what on earth is going on?"

The sound of McGonagall's voice brought Harry back to his senses and made him realise he had been staring at Malfoy's retreating form; Harry was relieved that it seemed most of the others had also been watching Malfoy's exit. After they answered McGonagall's questions, she sent them all to see Madam Pomfrey. Harry looked for Malfoy while he was in the hospital wing, but didn't see him. He wanted to know that Malfoy was all right. He wanted to thank Malfoy properly. He wanted to hold Malfoy. The rest of the class, who had run off as soon as they had escaped from the classroom, were already there, being treated for shock. Much to everyone's annoyance, Madam Pomfrey insisted on thoroughly checking everyone over before she would let anyone leave--just in case they had been bitten. Harry tried to find out what was happening with Professor Lupin, but he was only told that Dumbledore would be the one to inform them of anything that they ought to know.

At lunch, the hall was thrumming with the clamour of gossiping students.

"They've been questioning the sixth years from Hufflepuff and Slytherin as well," Hermione informed Ron, Harry, and Seamus. "Apparently they had Defence lessons before us this morning."

"I wonder why he changed like that," Ron said. "Perhaps someone cast a spell on him."

"A spell?" Hermione looked at him with disdain. "Really, Ron! You should know by now that a spell can't trigger werewolf transformations. It was a potion. I overheard Snape talking to McGonagall, and he doesn't believe any of the students would be capable of creating a potion like that--not without help, anyway. But I can't help wondering if it's got something to do with our stolen animals." Ron looked at her, utterly clueless to the connection she had made. "Remember the main potions we came across: transfiguration potions, potions to force someone to show their animagus form, and full moon potions--perhaps someone's combined them."

"He had a jug and glass of water in the room; do you think someone could've spiked it?" Ron asked, pleased to have come up with an idea, even if it wasn't as sophisticated as Hermione's.

"But no one went near the desk in our lesson," Harry pointed out.

"Perhaps that's why they're asking the class before us," Seamus suggested. "They think one of them did it. My bets are on Malfoy."

"But that doesn't make sense," Harry protested. "He let us all out; he stopped me from getting hurt--"

"Don't be so naïve, Harry," Seamus replied. "He probably set it all up just to make himself look good. As if we'd believe he'd be capable of playing the hero."

"Yeah," Ron eagerly agreed. "I think it was just bad timing on his part. He spiked the drink and then came back to rescue us, waiting for the screaming to start before he opened the door. Only he expected at least a couple of us to have been bitten by then."

"But he didn't have to cast the sleeping charm on Lupin once the door had been opened," Harry interjected. "He could've let me get bitten."

"Wouldn't have been much of a rescue attempt if he had let 'Harry Potter' get injured at the last moment. He was probably caught off guard, surprised that you had survived so far. Harry, you must've noticed that Lupin seemed to be more interested in you than anyone else..." Seamus trailed off as Neville arrived, surprising them all with the huge grin on his face.

"You'll never guess what Millicent did," Neville announced with excitement. "She's the one who punched Malfoy! Malfoy's been hit by a girl--my girlfriend..." he finished off dreamily as he took his seat, the others gaping at him in surprise.

"They were in Ancient Runes, after their Defence lesson," Neville explained. "And she was trying to get information out of him about my toad, and your cat, Hermione. He wasn't going to admit anything, but she's got a hunch that's he's involved because he'd disappeared from the Slytherin common room when Crookshanks went missing."

"So, he could've been in his dorm!" Harry exclaimed, and he then wished he could've taken that back as he received an assortment of strange looks from those around him. I think I've used up my "defending Malfoy" quota for this conversation.

"No, he wasn't," Neville continued, unperturbed. "She's bullied Crabbe into letting her know when he's missing from the dorm. Apparently he's been gone a lot recently. Anyway, he ended asking her why would he want a mu... a mudblood's cat. So she hit him."

"That bloody ferret!" Ron shouted, outraged. "Where does he get off?"

"Good for her," Hermione added, casting a steely gaze at Harry. "I'll have to go over and thank her later. Malfoy just can't help showing his true colours, can he? Perhaps it's all linked... he's probably been keeping his head down this term while putting this potion together. You must agree that it looks highly suspicious, Harry."

"Yes, it does," Harry verbally agreed, while feeling very frustrated that he couldn't tell them where Malfoy had really been, that Malfoy had an alibi.

Afternoon lessons had been cancelled for those who had been in the fated Defence lesson, and Harry spent the time in the common room trying to get through his homework and avoiding any conversations that implicated Malfoy--which seemed to be most of them. He couldn't wait another two days before he saw Malfoy, and so, passing through the crowds of students on the way back from dinner, Harry surreptitiously slipped him a note. It simply stated 10pm tonight, usual place.

***

In his eagerness to see Malfoy, Harry began to make his way to the Room of Requirement ten minutes early that evening. He saw Malfoy ahead in the corridor and increased his own pace. Catching up with Malfoy and still unseen in his cloak, Harry couldn't resist grabbing him by surprise. Malfoy nearly had a fit.

"You bastard!" Malfoy let out in a half-whisper, as Harry pulled the cloak over to cover the both of them.

"Sorry, but that was far too tempting," Harry said coyly before running a hand over Malfoy's face, where he seen the injuries earlier on. Madame Pomfrey had done her job well: the swelling had gone down, and there was no evidence that he had been hit. Harry held his face and kissed him. "Are you okay? I heard that it was Millicent who hit you."

"So you've dragged me out tonight to gloat?" Malfoy asked, and Harry couldn't help but let out a small snigger as they continued to walk along the corridor.

"No, but I can't blame her. I'd be tempted to do the same if I ever hear you call Hermione a mudblood."

"I wasn't doing it to get at Granger. I was just fed up with Bulstrode going on and on; I wanted her to shut up and leave me alone. She wouldn't stop badgering me about that bloody cat. What I want to know is how she knew I wasn't in the dorm? It makes me look guilty. I'd love to see the look on her face if I told her what I was really up to."

"Rumours are that she's been bullying your old sidekicks for information."

"What, Crabbe and Goyle? Those..."

Malfoy trailed off as they arrived at the Room of Requirement. The door was there ready for them tonight. Inside, there was no blend of common rooms, no sofa, and no butterbeer, just a cold, dark potions lab. The room was expansive, and it was filled with several tables and chairs, two large trunks, and shelving that lined the walls with assorted jars of ingredients. On one of the tables stood a large cauldron, and on the table next to it were two smaller cauldrons and a chopping board. The only light came from a small fire at one side of the room.

"Wow, this is different," Malfoy stated in amazement.

"And chilly," Harry said, moving to perch on a slab right in front of the fire and curling his arms round his legs.

"Bloody sissy Gryffindor," Malfoy laughed as he investigated one of the many jars. "So you really are desperate to get on with your Potions project--or are you just keen to give me my payment? By the way, when do I get paid?"

Looking up, he found Malfoy gazing at him with an utterly obscene expression. Harry just pursed his lips and tried not to laugh.

"When Snape tells me I haven't failed! I hadn't planned to start on my project tonight, but I guess I could do with something to take my mind off of what happened today."

The obscene expression dropped from Malfoy's face, and it was replaced with a look of concern. Putting the jar back on the shelf, he came over to the fireplace, placing a steadying hand on Harry's knee as he moved to sit down opposite him.

"I don't know what it must've been like for you being stuck in that room, but I know that when I opened the door up and everyone pushed past me to get out..." Malfoy trailed off, and he looked downwards for a moment, gently squeezing Harry's knee where his hand still rested, keeping the contact between them. Harry couldn't tell whether this was meant to comfort him, or whether Malfoy was doing it to reassure himself. It was obvious to Harry that Malfoy had been unnerved over what had happened: his voice held a slight tremor, and he had a worried expression on his face. "I saw the werewolf, and then I saw you still in there. He was inches away from you, Potter."

"If you hadn't been there..." Harry acknowledged soberly, and then he tried to lighten the tone. "I don't know. Playing the hero, eh? You're not turning into a 'Gryffindork', are you? You realise it could all go downhill from here."

"Sod off, Potter!" Malfoy jested.

Harry reached forward and brought Malfoy's face towards his own. Their lips touched and tenderly played against one another, Harry suddenly feeling very aware of how special this relationship was becoming. There was no doubt in Harry's mind now that this was what Lupin meant last year; he felt affection for Malfoy. Malfoy had affected him.

Their delicate kiss did not last. The sound of glass smashing rang through the air, and they both instantly pulled apart, jumping up with a start. They stood there in silence, searching the shadows of the room for movement and listening for any further sound. All Harry could hear was Malfoy's noisy breathing and the pounding of his own heartbeat. Then a wet thud came from underneath a table near the far end of the room, followed by the base of a glass jar rolling along the floor that came to a halt as it hit a table leg. Another squelchy thud, and Harry could see a one-eyed toad appear from under the table.

"It's... Trevor," Harry stammered in surprise, and he carefully picked up the toad.

"That's disgusting," Malfoy said, peering closely at the open pus-filled wound where a second eye should've been. "What is it doing here?"

"I don't know." Harry caught Malfoy's gaze as he considered a possibility that he didn't like, at all. "Perhaps the lab isn't here for us." Malfoy looked as unnerved by this observation as Harry felt. "I think we should go."

They grabbed the cloak and slipped back out into the corridor hidden within its folds.

"We should tell Dumbledore about this," Harry asserted, and Malfoy nodded in agreement, but chewed on his lip in worry.

"What are you going to say to Neville and the others? You can't exactly say that you were in the Room of Requirement; they'd want to know what you were doing there."

"I'll say I found him in the corridor outside the room when I was out walking. I think Dumbledore will understand that we can't tell anyone."

Professor Dumbledore was very interested when they showed him Trevor, and told him where they had found the toad. He cast a healing charm on Trevor's wound, which stemmed the oozing pus, and then he asked them to show him the room. But by the time they had returned, the potions lab had gone. To Malfoy's relief, when Dumbledore handed the toad back to Harry, Dumbledore concurred that it would be acceptable for Harry to say he had been alone in the corridor when Trevor had been found.

Harry caught Neville on his way up to bed, and though Neville was horrified at what had happened to Trevor, he was very grateful to Harry for finding him. Ron, as Harry expected, blamed it on Malfoy. Harry didn't give a response to Ron's assertion, but went straight to bed instead, avoiding the conversation and looking forward to the next night he would be able to spend with Malfoy without distractions. All the time, his thoughts kept coming back to the Room of Requirement. They had assumed it had been a potions lab for his benefit; what if they were wrong? There didn't appear to be anyone there, but what if someone had been hiding in the room? And if there was, what were they doing there? What would they want a potions lab for? Harry tried to console himself with the fact that if, by some chance, it was mentioned, at least they would know who was responsible for taking Trevor. He doubted anything would be said for that very reason.

***