The Spirit of Death

Harry Potter

The corridors were all deserted - everyone was at the Welcoming Feast laid on by Hogwarts School after the summer holidays had ended. In one fourth floor corridor, however, a 16 year-old boy was walking alone, lost deep in his own thoughts. The initial thrill of meeting up with one's friends after an extended period of separation had passed quickly, ending not long after the Hogwarts Express had left King's Cross in London.

Draco Malfoy, and his gang of Slytherin cronies, having kicked a group of Ravenclaw second-years out of the rear compartment of the train, had kept the compartment for themselves so that they could catch up on each others' news from the summer. Draco had been hemmed in by Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were eager to hear what he had been up to over the holidays. All their parents had refused to let them see each other over the entire summer break so Crabbe and Goyle, at least, were interested to hear what had gone on during their 8 weeks apart. Draco always enjoyed being the centre of attention at these gatherings, and as long as he was doing the talking he was content. As soon as the others started relating their tales, Draco quickly lost interest and his mind began to wander. He thought about the only thing he had thought about for the whole summer. He had not told his friends about this, but there were a lot of things that they didn't know about him. He did not like divulging any information about himself to anyone, and although he had spent a significant amount of time with these people over the previous 4 years, he did not feel that he knew them very well, nor did he have the desire to get to know them any better.

He stood up. Everyone fell quiet. It was Draco's custom to stand up whenever he had something to say, so this reaction was quite expected. However, he did not have anything to say, so he pushed his way past all the people between him and the door to the compartment and left, quietly sliding the door closed behind him. Pansy followed him out. She had always had concern for Draco, after all she was attracted to him, as were a lot of the other girls, and not just in Slytherin either. Although few of them ever admitted it, or spoke about Draco in this way, he was very attractive.

"Where are you going Draky?" she cooed.

"For a walk"

"Do you mind if I come along?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Yes, actually I do. Go back in there. I won't be long - I just need the toilet and I think I can manage on my own, thanks."

"Fine!"

Bitch, he thought. She always had too much time for other peoples' business and for gossip. If she put as much effort into thinking properly as she does into all her chit-chat, she might have passed at least one subject last year, he continued, in his head. Annoying girl.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he had walked all the way to the head of the train without even thinking about it. He was now standing right outside one of the prefects' compartments where he was supposed to be sitting. He stared unseeingly through the window for a moment then turned away.

He walked slowly back down the train looking to each of the compartments as he passed, but not stopping at any, until he heard the sound of a muffled explosion. He paused for a second, and then increased his pace towards the compartment, which now had smoke seeping out around the door, chest puffed up so his new badge was prominent, now in full prefect mode.

Ron's eyebrows and fringe were gone. Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Seamus and Dean did not know his yet, however, as they couldn't see through the smoke. Harry and Ron had been playing exploding snap with such gusto that the cards had gotten over excited, resulting in a larger-than-normal explosion accompanied by vast quantities of smoke, and the deletion of Ron's facial hair. Seamus, who was sitting by the window, opened it to let the smoke out. This was largely ineffective, although the remaining Snap cards were sucked from the train as it entered a tunnel, flurrying away into the countryside.

"Fumus ablegare" came a clear, matter-of-fact voice, which could only be Hermione's, "for God's sake you two - I was trying to talk to Ginny in private. I've forgotten what I was say..." She started to laugh uncontrollably. Harry, following her stare, began to heave with laughter too. The others went from initial bewilderment to amusement, until the only person left looking bewildered was Ron.

"What?" said Ron, wanting in on the joke.

"WHAT??" he repeated, louder and more annoyed. It was quickly becoming clear to him that he was the joke. He looked around himself, to even more laughter from the others.

"Will you stop bloody laughing long enough to tell me what's so funny???" he fumed.

"You're ... eyebrows," wheezed Ginny, before her mirth redoubled.

"What about them?" asked Ron, curiously raising his hand to see if he could feel anything that may be caught in them. He suddenly looked concerned then the concern turned into shock. Ginny was almost suffocating with laughter - she had hardly any breath left,

"They're gone" she wheezed.

"That'll really set off your 'Prefect' badge, Ron," laugher Hermione, adjusting her own.

It was at this stage that Draco had approached the Gryffindors' compartment. He had trouble at first, ascertaining exactly who was in the cabin. Then, as Ginny and Seamus came up for air simultaneously, his suspicions were confirmed. Yes, there was the other Weasley, Ron. Weasel-y - how did he every get made a prefect. He looked around the rest of the compartment. There was Longbottom and that Granger mudblood and then, next to her, his heart skipped ... Potter. He stared at the side of Harry's face, which was red from laughter, only for a second before Hermione, sensing Draco's presence, looked at him. The smile that had started to pull Draco's face was abruptly replaced with a scowl as Draco caught Hermione's stare, and as he moved off, his heart fell. He was never going to be able to be close to Potter. As he walked down the corridor, he remembered his excitement at being made a prefect, not because he particularly wanted to be one but because he was sure that Harry would also be made one. He had hoped for a little contact time with him through prefects' meetings. However his hopes had been dashed at the beginning of the previous year. For some reason, Potter had not been made a prefect. To make matters worse, he now had to endure that righteous couple, Ron and Hermione as said meetings, which had become a sort of weekly purgatory. He hung his head and walked slower, now that he was clear of the Gryffindors' compartment.

"I wonder what he was doing," thought Hermione, back in the cabin. She knew it was probable that he was just innocently passing by, probably on prefect patrol. Hermione was naturally suspicious, but she didn't linger - there was too much going on in the cabin.

* * *

His heart still felt heavy as he walked alone down the cold, castle corridor - the image of Potter surrounded by all his friends, and Hermione's scowl when she had seen him, still fresh in him mind, much more so than the petty conversation in his gang of Slytherins on the train. Hermione's attitude didn't bother him so much, although he was sure that Harry's reaction to seeing him would have been the same as hers. They lived in different worlds. Draco never had that amount of fun with any of his Slytherin 'friends'. He didn't associate with them too much anyway - he would secret himself away to a place where he could do his homework in private - away from the rest of the Slytherins, all of whom he knew would not appreciate his un-Slytherin work ethic. Actually doing homework, other than Snape's Potions work was regarded almost as a sign of weakness, and most definitely, lack of independence and self will - the very ideals for which Slytherin House stood. All Slytherins were supposed to be headstrong, sly and have a high disregard for authority.

Although Draco did exhibit these characteristics, in fact he accentuated them as his father always told him he should, he wasn't altogether sure that he actually belonged in Slytherin House. He felt that he would much rather have been placed into Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat at his first Welcoming Feast, five years ago. If he was in Gryffindor he would have been closer to Potter too. Much closer, although as a school governor, his father would probably have had him placed in Slytherin anyway, whatever the outcome of the Sorting.

He shook himself. "Come on Draco," he thought, "pull yourself together. This is just a crush you have on Potter. Its not love. Eugh." The thought scared him. He could not explain why he was attracted to Potter like this - for the past eight weeks he hadn't been able to think of anything else, and the feeling that the very thought of Potter gave him in his stomach meant that he hadn't been able to eat much either. He had been feeling hungry when he smelled the Welcoming Feast through the doors of the Great Hall on his way in from the train, but feigning tiredness and a need to go to the bathroom, he had slunk off. He didn't feel remotely hungry now - the thought of Harry Potter made his stomach tie itself in a knot. God knows how he would feel the next time he saw him in the flesh.

Back in the Great Hall, Dumbledore had just finished addressing the students after the Sorting has ended, and all the nervous-looking first years were sitting at the long house tables with their new Hogwarts families. Harry subconsciously looked across the room in the direction of the Slytherin table on the opposite wall, curious to see why there hadn't been as much noise as usual coming from that direction during Dumbledore's address. Glancing along the table, he noticed that there was no great knot of people in the middle of the table as there normally was; the reason for this, it became clear, was because Malfoy was not there holding court as he usually did. Crabbe and Goyle didn't outwardly seem to have noticed, however Pansy was looking concernedly across the hall in the direction of the door leading to the Entrance Hall. 'Draco should be back from the bathroom by now,' she thought, 'I do hope he's not ill.' Seemingly resigned to the fact that Draco didn't seem to be planning to return to dinner, she eventually turned to one of her girlfriends and began to chat. 'Probably about Draco,' thought Harry, before he allowed his attention to return to the Gryffindor table, and the matter immediately at hand: dinner!

"Where were you?" asked Hermione, moving her head in front of Harry's face to see what he was staring at.

"What?" said Harry, returning abruptly from somewhere deep in his musing to the Great Hall.

"You were miles away," she told him, "what were you thinking about?"

"Oh ... nothing," Harry replied, and seeing that this was not going to satisfy Hermione's curiosity, he continued, "I was looking to see why Malfoy wasn't putting on his usual dinner cabaret for the Slytherins."

"Right," said Hermione slowly, "but why do you care, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't," replied Harry quickly, and truthfully - he had no concern at all for Malfoy's wellbeing, "I just hope that, as he's not here, he's either ill or dead."

"Harry!" said Hermione reproachfully. She did not care about Malfoy either, but she did not appreciate Harry's wishing he were dead, no matter who it was in reference to. She was also aware that Harry had also been very sensitive about anything to do with death since the passing of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries the previous summer. She looked at Harry and could tell that he hadn't meant what he had said in the slightest.

After what he had just said, Harry felt very bad. As he thought about what he had just said he 'wished' about Malfoy, he realised that even for a quickly made-up answer to stop Hermione asking questions, it wasn't funny at all. 3 months previously he had lost his godfather, a shred of hope he had had, to live in a wizarding household with one if his parents' best friends, snatched from his grasp, just like his parents had been 15 years before. He could never wish death on anyone, except Voldemort, the source of all this evil.

Further down the table Neville, Dean and Seamus were all watching Ron eat. They had eaten their fill, but Ron always ate the most of the group. Just before the main-course had disappeared from the platters, Ron had piled up his plate with food, topped off his goblet with pumpkin juice, and continued to eat.

"You're gross, Ron," said Ginny as she watched him shove another mouthful of chicken with melted-ice-cream-gravy into his mouth. "Why don't you put desert on a separate plate?"

Ron tried to answer with his mouth full, and everyone winced as a blob of mashed potato slipped out of the corner of his mouth on a rope of gooey ice cream. He caught the rest, and sufficed with a shrug in answer to Ginny's question. Everyone laughed at Ron's eating habits, and eventually, by general consensus, everyone left the Hall and headed back up to the dormitories, tired after a long day's travelling, but feeling relaxed with a good meal inside them.

* * *

Draco knew that the Feast must be nearly over. He looked at his watch, and saw that he had been walking round and round the fourth floor for almost 2 hours. It hadn't seemed that long, just wandering, lost, through his own thoughts and the empty corridors. He sat down on the plinth of a statue of an execution, and jumped as the executioner's axe swung down with a thud, inches from his head. He edged along a bit, away from the axe. He put his hands to his face, resting his elbows on his knees. What was he going to do? He hadn't been able to think about anything but Potter. During the holiday, he hadn't even been able to escape him in his sleep - he would dream endlessly about Potter, sometimes finding himself awake in the dark as if it wasn't a dream, but was real. He had thought he could hear Harry lying next to him, but whenever he reached out in the dark, there was never anything there, and he realised that he was scaring himself. It wasn't true - it would never be. Why was he attracted to Potter anyway? Was he missing the obvious point here? 'Potter is a boy,' he thought to himself, 'and you are a boy. Boys don't fancy boys!! But I do.' These thoughts were whizzing around in his head. He didn't like it. He was always in charge of himself and, usually, of whatever was going on around him as well. At least at school. At home he was completely under the control of his father, and if he didn't like whatever it was that his father wanted, he would have to do it anyway, or else face the consequences. He shuddered at the thought of his father. Though he would never admit to it openly, he was deeply afraid of his father. He was a powerful dark wizard, and although Lucius Malfoy had tortured Draco on numerous occasions for disobedience, Draco knew that this was nowhere near the limit of his father's ability to inflict harm. As one of the Dark Lord's closest supporters, Draco knew even without demonstration, that his father was a powerful wizard.

Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall together after Ron had eventually finished eating. Neville, Dean and Seamus had given up about 15 minutes earlier, and had headed off to the dormitory without Ron and Harry. Ginny had gone off with some of her friends from her own dormitory, and it had continued until the three of them were left practically alone in the Hall. The only other presence was Dumbledore, who appeared to be enjoying his own company, as well as his tea and the pipe he was smoking. While Ron was finishing up, Harry had cast his eyes around the Hall and seen Dumbledore sitting alone. Dumbledore had nodded to him, and Harry had subsequently looked back at Ron, to see if he was done yet. Hermione and Harry sat there not saying anything, just watching Ron eat for about 5 more minutes. Eventually, Ron declared himself to be full and, throwing down his napkin, stood up. Harry and Hermione followed suit and the three of them left the Hall, talking about how Ron ate too much.

"Ron, you know you should really eat more greens," said Hermione, matter-of-factly.

"Hermione, leave off me will you? You're starting to sound like my mum."

"You listen to what she says as well, then," contested Hermione light-heartedly, and Ron smiled.

"Yeah!!"

Harry yawned widely and picked up the pace towards the dormitory. "I'd forgotten how tiring it is to watch Ron eat," he jested to his friends. Hermione giggled, and Ron punched his arm. Harry hit him back, laughing. A little further on down the corridor Ron tried to get Harry again, around Hermione's back, but Harry was walking further away from Hermione than Ron had anticipated, and Ron ended up walking with his arm over Hermione's shoulder. She giggled. Ron, glancing at Harry, removed his hand, the tips of his ears turning pink, like they always did when he was embarrassed.

"You look really cute when you're embarrassed," said Hermione, rubbing her shoulder against Ron as they walked, "you can put your hand back if you want." Ron looked at her, and then at Harry, then slowly put his arm back. Harry stared, as his two best friends walked down the corridor together, holding each other.

"What did you say you did this summer, Ron?" he asked, amused. Ron looked at the floor as they walked along a fourth-floor corridor, having been diverted by a staircase that had decided to move right after they had stepped onto it.

"Oh, nothing special," replied Hermione, digging Ron gently in the side with her elbow.

"Right," said Harry, raising his eyebrows briefly. He did not say anything more - he had always seen something between Ron and Hermione, especially in the way they argued, but he had never thought that they would actually start dating each other. He had never thought that Hermione would let anything get in the way of her school work, and well, it just wasn't Ron's style.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, it turned out that Hermione wasn't letting it get in the way of her school work. She did spend a lot of time with Ron, usually helping him with his homework, hers of course always complete well ahead of schedule. Harry was amused to see that she hadn't managed to alter Ron's study regime, not through lack of trying however. Ever since she had met Ron she had frequently expressed her disapproval for the way he worked, and now that they were spending virtually every waking hour together, she mentioned it at least twice an hour, it seemed. Ron ignored her on this front, as he always had, and in that respect, things were completely normal - same as ever.

Also the same as ever were his Potions lessons. Snape was still derisive of Harry's efforts at his subject, but no matter how hard he tried, he didn't seem to have what it took to do well in potions. He nearly always achieved the right outcome, but his potions were never very strong. Snape told him that he had completely the wrong attitude towards his work. "You have to concentrate, Potter. You have to want your potion to work, to become potent. This is not cookery - you have to put some effort into it. Of course, perhaps you're just not powerful enough, magically. Is it too much for poor Potty?"

The Slytherins cackled, and Snape smiled at the effect of his little joke. He loved deriding Potter, and his appreciative Slytherin audience made it even more enjoyable. Malfoy was laughing loudly, so hard in fact, that it sounded forced. Snape, taking Harry's last piece of homework, walked over to Malfoy's bench. Harry, following Snape to Malfoy's bench with his eyes, was surprised to see that Draco was returning his stare. Draco immediately looked back at Snape. Harry felt odd - there hadn't been any malice in Malfoy's stare. He was brought back to Potions with a bump: "Another E, Mr Potter, tut tut. You're grades are poorer even than Longbottom's. And that's going some." The Slytherins laughed appreciatively, as Snape dipped the parchment into Draco's cauldron. As Harry watched, he saw Draco make an odd sort of movement that turned out to be more of a jolt, like someone had poked him in the side. It was as if he had tried to stop Snape, but caught himself just in time. Snape withdrew his hand, but the homework was gone. "You see Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy's Invisibility Potion works perfectly. If sure if I had put these useless notes into your cauldron that I would have ended up with nothing more than a soggy piece of parchment. Oh, and 10 points from Gryffindor for a distinct lack of effort in your homework." He threw Harry's homework into the air - nobody could see it, but they could hear it fluttering to the ground. "Potter, you will remain behind until you have found your homework. You will return here at sunset, when Mr Malfoy will be here to instruct you on how to brew the potion properly. For this, Mr Malfoy will receive fifty House points," he added, to Draco. "You will redo the homework over and over until you achieve full marks. No help from Miss Granger either." Snape walked to the corner of the dungeon classroom, and drew a dripping piece of parchment from a small cauldron on an unused desk. "Another potion of Mr Malfoy's," he sneered at Harry, "he's such a good student - you will do your homework on this, Potter. I will know if you cheat. If you do cheat, or make a mistake, all your work up to that point will vanish, until you write the whole lot without error. You will hand this in to me by Monday morning."

Draco, having had to put on a show about how annoyed he was at having to give Harry Potter remedial Potions lessons, was actually quite excited by the idea. He looked forward to having Potter all to himself for a whole evening. He knew that Snape would not be present because every Friday Dumbledore summoned all the teachers to his office for a progress meeting. There was no reason for there to be no meeting tonight - Snape could not miss a meeting with the headmaster because a student couldn't complete a simple potion. There were six other nights in the week when this could take place. He laid back against his pillows - lying right in the middle of the four, carved posters of the bed, with the hangings drawn around him. He enjoyed just lying there on his own. It was the only private space a student had in a school such as Hogwarts. He lay there thinking. He had had opportunities to be alone with Potter in the past, neither as opportune as this however. The first one had been in their first year - Draco had challenged Harry to a wizards duel in the Trophy Room. Filch had somehow found out though, so there was no way he was going to risk being caught out of bed with Harry Potter. The second was when the pair of them had been on detention for wandering the castle at night - he and Harry had been grouped together with Fang, Hagrid's dog, for an expedition into the Forbidden Forest. Draco would never forget that experience in his whole life. It was the most frightening memory he had, other than being tortured by his father. He squirmed at the thought of both of these memories. Harry could have died that night. Draco hadn't had any idea of his feelings at that time, and he wondered for a moment how he might not be in the turmoil he was in presently if Quirrel had just managed to kill Potter. 'That would have been terrible,' he thought.

He closed his eyes and tried to think rationally through how he intended to carry out the evening. He tried initially to work it out like a teacher's lesson plan. He would work alongside Potter, to show him how do complete each stage, and then he would help Potter to complete his own potion. He wondered whether he should be derisive of Potter. After all, he had always worked under the illusion that he hated Potter. He was sure that Potter really did hate him as a result of this however, it had only been meant to make Draco himself appear popular among his friends, controlling and dominant - a real man. He had been showing off for Potter's benefit. 'Popular among that lot,' he sneered to himself, 'those hopeless drones who can't think for themselves, who don't even know who I am. They know my name, of course, who hasn't heard the name Malfoy? But they know nothing about me really. They do not know that I have been tortured by my father. They do not know how I feel or who I feel it for. They think I'm carrying on with Pansy - playing hard-to-get for her benefit, when the silly bitch really can't take the hint that I'm not remotely interested.' He paused for a moment on this last thought, and tried to think through and order, in his mind, people whom he had felt this way about in that past. Over the past few weeks, whether he liked it or not, he had become convinced that this was not just a silly teenage crush - his heart skipped a beat every time he looked at Potter, every time he heard his voice, or the sound of his laughter. It was a very short list - and none of them were female. There was, in fact, only one name on Draco's mental list, and that was Harry's.

The thought that he might not be 'normal' scared him. He did not know how to deal with it, or whether he actually needed to worry about it. He decided that he did need to worry about it, but he had nobody whom he was prepared to talk to about it. All the people he usually associated with in the common room considered themselves to be his friends however, he did not feel that any of them were true friends. Not friends to him like Weasley and Granger were to Potter. He wanted to be part of that. He had no idea how he could be though. Granger might get used to the idea of him and Potter being together, but Weasley could never accept Draco. 'Hold on,' he thought - he almost said it out loud, 'you're jumping way ahead of yourself here, Draco my man - you've got to teach Potter how to brew potions. You're not going on a date with him, you probably never will. Just because you feel this way doesn't mean that he will reciprocate. Thinking about Potter was arousing him. He could feel it. It happened more and more recently, although he tried his best to ignore it, it wouldn't stop. He'd given in to it every time, however he was determined this time to ignore it and concentrate on the task in hand. Making sure that his arousal was not obvious to anyone who might be in the dormitory, he ripped the hangings of his bed back, and marched to the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

Harry was fuming. Not only had Professor Snape destroyed his homework, humiliated him in front of his friends and the Slytherins and given him 2 days to redo that homework on his own, he was making him spend the evening with Draco Malfoy as well. He was sure that he wasn't going go learn anything from Malfoy.

"Snape'll be at his department meeting with Dumbledore, so Malfoy's going to be insufferable. I actually want to learn how to brew this potion - and I don't want Malfoy to be there taking the piss when I fuck up," he complained to Ron in the dormitory.

Hermione had just reminded him that he needed to be in the dungeons by sunset. He hadn't needed reminding, but he was annoyed anyway. He crammed the homework that Snape had set him into his bag and swung it onto his back.

"See you in the morning," he said to Ron, "don't wait up for me."

"I wasn't planning to wait up for you," replied Ron, "however I'm not guaranteeing that I'll be asleep in bed by the time you get back!!" He winked at Harry, who couldn't help but smile, even with an evening with Malfoy in prospect. Harry left the room and ran down the stairs to the common room. Ginny and Hermione were sitting having a girly chat by the fireplace. They looked so cosy - he knew it was going to be cold down in the dungeons - he wished he could join them.

"Ron-eo will be down in a minute," he joked to Hermione, who tried to frown, but smiled instead. Ginny chuckled.

"Enjoy you're romantic fire-lit evening with Draco," said Ginny, still giggling. Harry grimaced, bade them farewell and left the common room through the portrait hole.

* * *

Standing under the steaming shower of water, Draco was thinking to himself. He now had a clear plan in his head about how tonight would go, or at least how he would steer it. Washing foam out of his hair, he gargled the water as it sprayed into his mouth. He swung his head forwards, at the same time sweeping his hands back over his hair, to stop the water running back down his face. He opened his eyes and looked straight ahead, at the green marble wall of his shower cubicle. It wasn't really a cubicle though - more like a private bathroom. As the water continued to spray onto his back, he reached out and turned the jet off with a heavy silver lever. He walked to the other end of the rectangular shower room and reached for his towel; although the floor was also of marble and was covered with water, a magical finish meant that it was not even slightly slippery. He stood in front of a full-length mirror, watching himself as he dried his creamy-white body with the soft towel. He then towelled his white-blonde hair, and once it was towel-dry he inspected his naked self in the mirror. His skin was flawless - not a single blemish. He thought to himself, 'even without clothes you look fantastic,' and grinned at himself sexily in the mirror. He took his magical comb off the shelf by the mirror, and drew it, slowly, from his forehead to the back of his head. Once the comb had passed through the hair, it moved, and styled itself - swept back, but not too severely; his fringe fell lightly back over his forehead, a stunning, casual look which he hoped did make it look like he was trying too hard. He replaced the comb and took hold of his wand. He waved it around the room, and then at the towel on the floor at his feet. The water vanished, the small, high windows demisted and the towel wrapped itself tightly around his waist. He did have a bath robe, but he preferred to show off his torso. He swaggered towards the door, and walked across the dormitory to his bed. There was nobody else in there, he was a little disappointed because there was no-one to admire his physique, but he was more relieved, because he didn't want people to think he was doing all this for an evening of potions, however true that may have been. He dressed himself in long, green robes. It was starting to become cold in the castle as the weather chilled, so they were thick and comfortable. He checked his bag to ensure that he had all he would need, and set off well before sunset.

When he reached the Potions dungeon, and having made sure that Snape wasn't there, the first thing that Draco did was to clear all the benches away from their usual arrangement in rows, using the Wingardium Leviosa charm to stack them, one by one, against the outside wall. He then noticed was that it seemed to be even colder then elsewhere in the basement of the castle, the Slytherin common room, for example. Standing in the middle of the room, he swung around a shot a jet of flame into the centre of the hearth, where it settled and burned warmly. He dropped his bag in the middle of the floor as the homely orange glow of his firelight filled the room. Next, he moved the one remaining bench into position in front of, and facing the fire. This meant that the door was to the left and the shelves upon shelves of ingredients were to his right, behind Snape's desk. He set up two cauldrons on the bench, collected all the ingredients they would require, and lay them between the cauldrons. He took his Potions textbook out of his bag, and read though the procedure, sitting on the stone floor, in front of the fire.

* * *

Harry was dragging his feet as he walked, and took a prolonged, detouring route to the dungeons. He was in no hurry to get down there. He knew that Malfoy was going to be on his case for the whole evening - he had always been extremely gifted at Potions. Though Harry would never admit it, even to himself, he was extremely envious of Malfoy's ability - he would watch Malfoy sometimes as he made something that Harry found extremely difficult seem so effortless and easy. He suddenly realised that he was standing outside the door to the Potions room. He sighed heavily, and opened the door.

"Evening Potter," said Malfoy quickly, as soon as Harry entered the room.

Harry looked at him, and saw that Draco was smiling. "Er...hi," he replied, taken aback firstly by Malfoy's politeness, and secondly by the lack of malice in his voice. It didn't seem, as Harry usually suspected, to have been designed to lure him into doing something stupid, or for the benefit of an audience. He looked around the room. Draco, anticipating the question, said, "I thought you might like a little more room - seems a shame to waste the space."

"Right," said Harry slowly, dropping his bag next to Dracos, and rummaging for his things. He paused for a moment, suddenly struck by the realisation that the first thing he had noticed when he walked into the room was the way Malfoy looked. His hair was clean and well groomed, and he wasn't wearing his usual black school-robes.

Draco watched Harry as he rifled through his bag. His pulse had quickened surprisingly at the sight of Harry entering the room, and he felt a little breathless. That feeling was back in his stomach too, that nervous, clenching feeling.

Harry pulled his Potions textbook from his bag and thumped it down on the bench, next to one of the cauldrons. "Shall we get on with it then?" he inquired, aware afterwards that his voice was quite loud, especially after hearing the soft voice Draco had used to welcome him. Draco looked, and felt, taken aback, but regained himself quickly. "I thought we'd go through the procedure first, to make sure you're confident with it, and then we'd brew the potion separately, but at the same time. That was I can help you and you can see what it's supposed to be like at each stage."

"That's a good idea," said Harry, startled even at his own response. It was surprised by Malfoy's behaviour towards him. Harry got the immediate impression of a warm person who wanted to help and was genuinely concerned about Harry's success. Despite himself, and despite the usual circumstances and enmity between the pair of them, Harry warmed to Draco.

As Draco explained why the potion worked in the way it did, with reference to the properties of each of the ingredients, and during the brewing of the potion itself, it became clear to Harry that Draco wasn't just gifted at Potions, he had a passion for it. Draco stood behind Harry as he read the procedure, and followed with explanations of each step, clarifying the exact steps for each stage of the potion. Harry could feel Draco's warm breath on the back of his neck, gentle and regular, and he realised that the terrible enmity usually present between them was futile and insignificant. Draco wasn't some monster - he was just another human being, as unique and special as anyone else.

"Do you now see why the potion has the potential to be so potent?" Draco finally asked Harry.

"Yes," he replied, and did. No more was required, and Draco knew this. He appreciated Harry's attention and understanding for what he had explained, and took the fact that Harry understood him as a compliment.

"Now to get down to some brewery!" announced Draco - a twinkle in his eye.

It was not a difficult procedure. The ingredients complimented each other nicely and the procedure didn't involve any accessory magic. Draco was elated - brewing his potion and helping Harry with his with a perfectionist's precision. "Shred the daisy roots as fine as you can, Harry," he tipped, "that way the magical properties are more accessible to the mixture because of the surface area. Also, that way you don't get lumps."

Harry took on board all that Draco said. Usually, Harry didn't care in Potions. He accepted (grudgingly) that he was crap, and never expected to do well - hacking rather than slicing and chasing ingredients around the mortar instead of crushing them properly. With a little care and attention to preparation, Harry was amazed at the difference. His potion had not failed that day because the ingredients were in the wrong proportions, but because he hadn't prepared them properly. "Even slight errors in the quantities, at this level, are more acceptable than slap-dash preparation, Harry," imparted Draco.

The time had come for the most complicated ingredient to be prepared - a fresh spider's abdomen. "If any of the legs or the head is present, it's no good," said Draco, "the potion becomes a contact poison usually, and we really don't want Snape to have to come down here."

Harry was nervous about dissecting the spider, not necessarily because he was afraid of spiders, although it was true that he was less than comfortable with handling the eight-legged creatures, but because for some reason he found that Draco made him nervous. Not through fear of mockery or of failure, but in an exciting way, silimar to how he felt before an important Quidditch match.

Even after Draco's demonstration, Harry was unsure; his hand was shaking as he approached the spider with the scalpel. ("We have to use a scalpel because the severing charms we learned from Flitwick are far to inaccurate for use in potions," Draco had said) Harry was a little surprised, but not annoyed or aggravated when Draco came up behind him and helped him to dissect of his spider. Draco took Harry's hand so that Harry's hand was holding the scalpel and Draco was controlling Harry's hand. Draco's other arm was around Harry's other side, holding the spider in position. The contact was quite close, and even though Harry was concentrating hard on what was happening, he was very, aware of Draco's proximity, in a way that he was not used to. Once the spider's legs and head were removed though, he thought how warm and soft and dry Draco's grip was, and how precise and unshakable.

Once the spider was added, the potion was left to simmer for 10 minutes, during which time they cleared up the bench and cleaned their implements. Draco's potion was so potent that the ceiling above the cauldron had started to disappear - Harry could see the water pipes buried in the floor above.

"Draco," he said, "you are really good at this - look how even the vapour from your potion causes invisibility!" Draco didn't hide his pride at Harry's compliment.

"You know, Harry, you could be as good as me if you set your mind to it," he said, quietly. Harry looked up at him, straight into Draco's eyes. "You're so powerful - the magic that you could impart to your potion is huge, and I think that's what aggravates Snape so. Not that he need's aggravating much!" The pair of them laughed. They were both enjoying the civility between them.

"Right," announced Draco, "its time to take the potions off the heat. Then they need to cool completely before we bottle them."

"OK," said Harry, throwing his cloth down, having just finished drying the last measuring cup.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yea?"

"There's not much we can do before those potions cool, do you fancy having a look at that homework Snape set you?"

"Thanks, but if you remember, it was your potion that Snape used to anti-cheat my parchment."

"Yes, but this is my antiserum to that potion." Draco smiled at Harry, brandishing a small phial of a clear potion.

Harry couldn't conceal his amazement at Malfoy's preparedness and eagerness to help.

"You know, Malfoy, I'm surprised you haven't been laughing at me all night. It's honestly what I expected." Draco ignored the implied question and pushed, "do you want to get your homework right or not?"

They sat down, side by side at the bench, the potions, in their cauldrons, at opposite ends of the desk. Draco had vaporised the antiserum with his wand, and directed the droplets towards Harry's parchment. There was no visible change, but Draco seemed satisfied. "Right - question one - list the three most well known properties of wolf's blood, and the dangers associated with it. I can't believe you got that wrong, Potter!"

After three-quarters of an hour of potions homework, they were finished. Harry kept expressing his gratitude to Draco, but it didn't feel like enough. He couldn't think of any way to make it up to Draco though.

"Thank you, Malfoy, I really learned a lot this evening," he said for the umpteenth time as Draco decanted his solution into a crystal bottle.

"For the last time, Potter, it's OK. I actually enjoyed helping you. You have come from knowing virtually nothing," he winked, and Harry gave a half-frown, "to being able to brew a potent Invisibility Potion in one evening. And you've got your homework done."

"What about your homework?" asked Harry, suddenly aware that Draco probably hadn't had the time to complete his own homework in the time before coming down here.

"It's fine. I got it done before I got in the shower. It was potions anyway, so you couldn't have helped me with it!" Harry punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder, and was surprised to see Draco wince. They both ignored this though, Harry feeling guilty, and Draco feeling upset that he had shown weakness and elated because Harry was happy.

"Why aren't you like this normally, Malfoy?" Harry asked, after they had finished bottling Harry's potion. Malfoy faltered, he didn't really have an answer. He couldn't go and say because he tried to impress his Dad's friends' sons, or because he had been afraid of how he felt towards Harry.

"I..." he stopped. Harry had walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Malfoy, who had been crouched over his bag, stood up.

"You're a really good person," said Harry warmly, feeling warm too, because he meant it. Draco blushed. "I mean it," Harry continued, "I really feel like a learnt a lot from you this evening," he was looking Draco straight in the eye as he spoke to him, and Draco didn't break the eye contact either, although his insides were squirming so much at these compliments from Harry. "The absence of your usual audience allowed you to come out as yourself too," he ended, jokingly. Draco felt a pang, although he didn't know whether it was because Harry had scored a point on him, or because he really appreciated Harry's humour and acceptance.

"Oh, them," he said, his voice shaking. He did his best to control it, "they're only an audience, really, I don't..."

"Come on, they're you're friends," interrupted Harry.

"No they're not," said Draco, and it was clear that this was where the subject was doing to be dropped.

"Which Quidditch team do you support, Potter?" he asked, quite unexpectedly, to Harry, partly to change the direction of the conversation, but more out of genuine interest, "other than Gryffindor, of course," he added, with a grin.

Harry grinned back and replied, "Winchester Wizards, you?"

"Winchester? Well, I guess someone has to." He smiled at Harry again.

"Who do you support, then?" asked Harry, with genuine interest.

"Chudley Cannons," replied Draco.

"The Cannons? Ron supports them too, and that's how I know they haven't won a match in the past three seasons," he laughed. Harry had a warm feeling inside, which he hadn't expected as he saw Draco smile at his comments. He could feel that Draco was also enjoying this lack of enmity.

"We've caught the Snitch almost every game though," Draco countered, defending his team.

"So you have one really good player. We have a whole team of decent players, which is why we actually win from time to time!! In that respect the Cannons are a bit like the Slytherin team!!" Harry waited for Draco's reaction to this with amusement in his eyes. Draco seemed to have realised that it was a compliment, at least to him, bit it didn't look like he was going to say anything.

"Slytherin have a great Seeker, but the rest of the team are rubbish at Quidditch. They make up for it by being OK at cheating. And Gryffindor, then are like Winchester - we have a whole team of good players, and we often win."

"A whole team of decent players, eh? If you say so yourself, Harry!!" Draco smiled and laughed as he answered. He hadn't had a real, friendly conversation about Quidditch with anyone else ever in his life. It was a very enjoyable experience.

"Talking about Gryffindor and Slytherin, we'll be playing you in a couple of weeks, if Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff, as I'm sure they will - their best players left school last year." He paused for a moment, then continued, "although it would be fun to see Slytherin relegated to third in the House Championship."

"Don't joke," said Malfoy, "we haven't had great luck this season. I don't think I could stand being behind those Hufflepoofs in the Championship." Harry laughed.

"I guess we'd better head back upstairs," said Harry finally, "we don't want everyone to think we've been getting on too well!"

"Why not? I'd sooner have everybody know that I have friends like you than those idiots I usually have to spend my time with."

"What?"

"My father makes me hang out with them so he can keep a check on me."

"Oh - why would he do that? Does he not trust you?"

"What do you think, Potter? People like my father trust no-one. I reckon he'd come along and kill me personally if he thought we were friends."

"I think we should be," said Harry. "Friends, I mean." Draco looked up at him and smiled.

"I'd like that," he replied quietly. 'Although you've no idea how much!!' he thought. "We'll have to keep it a bit hush-hush though - like I said, kill us both!!" He managed a small laugh. Harry laughed with him.

"Thanks, Draco - you've been a great help Maybe we should do this again sometime, although hopefully with less Potions and more Quidditch!! I'll just have to remember what you told me about preparation" He started to move towards the door.

"Wait," said Draco, rummaging in his bag for something. After a few seconds of frantic searching, he produced a crumpled piece of parchment. He smoothed it out onto the surface of one of the benches, and put his hand inside his robes.

"Oh - I've packed my wand away in my bag. Could I borrow yours? It will be quicker. The spell isn't too powerful, so it should work with someone else's wand. It'll only be for short distances anyway."

With no idea what Malfoy was talking about, he said, "sure," and handed Draco his wand. Draco took it, and turned back to his parchment. He muttered an incantation that Harry couldn't hear, and then the room was illuminated with a bright flash leaving the parchment with a lingering incandescence, which slowly faded.

"Wow," breathed Draco, astounded at the power he had released from Harry's wand. I didn't think it would work that well with someone else's wand. I reckon this would work anywhere in the world now!!"

Harry was also amazed by Draco's spell. He still had no idea what Draco had done, but nobody else had ever been able to use his wand with any success before.

Draco turned around, staring at Harry's wand, and then looked up at Harry. "That was amazing," he said, as he handed Harry his wand back. He then remembered what he had done with the wand and snatched the parchment off the bench, and tore it perfectly into two. Harry briefly admired his skill, and caught himself staring at the hand with which Draco was offering him half of the parchment. "As our 'public' relationship isn't suited to us talking face to face in anything other than insults, if you want to talk to me, write on this piece of parchment. It works both ways, so I can write to you too. I'm usually in my bed or in the library outside lessons, so don't worry about other people seeing what you write."

Harry found that he trusted Draco. "Cool, how did you do that?" he asked.

"Ahh, my little secret, my friend." 'Friend,' he thought, warmly, looking at Harry. "Let's just test it across the room - make sure it works right. You write to me, then I'll reply."

"OK," said Harry, taking out his quill and ink. He loaded his quill, and held it poised over the parchment.

"Thank you for teaching me Potions," he wrote.

"No problem, any time. Just write..." came the reply, oozing out of the page.

Harry's original message was still there. "What happens when the parchment's completely covered?" asked Harry.

"Oh yeah - you know the spell you use to remove ink blots from homework and stuff?"

"Yes," said Harry, seeing where this was going.

"Just use that and the paper will wipe clean."

Harry took his wand back out of his pocket, and wiped his parchment. On Draco's parchment, the ink remained, but the colour had changed from black to red. Draco waved his parchment at Harry to show him what had happened. Harry smiled at Draco, folded the parchment neatly, and put it in his pocket. As he turned to the door, Draco called to him:

"Keep it safe, Harry. Write soon!"

"I will," Harry assured him, and left the room.

Draco spent a few moments alone in the Potions room, thinking about the evening that he had just spent with Potter. He smiled - whatever he had planned or thought through or fantasised about, he had never dreamed he would have made a real friend this evening. Feeling warm at the thought of his friend, Harry, he swung his bag onto his back and left the room.

* * *

When Draco re-entered the Slytherin common room after the Potions session, and he saw all the people he spent his time with, his 'friends', looking over at him and asking him how bored he'd been and how stupid Potter must be, he decided that he couldn't be bothered to face them. He turned straight towards the dormitory without looking directly at any of them. None of them followed, 'thank God,' thought Draco.

He undressed slowly, and pulled on his pyjamas and a bath robe. He washed and brushed his teeth, then went to his bed. He drew the hangings around his four poster, and lay back, snuggling under his covers, enjoying the warmth of his own body. He suddenly felt more warmth than he expected around his pelvis, and realised that while he had been lying there, thinking about Harry, he had become rigidly aroused again. He tried to block Harry from his mind, and closed his eyes - pretending that he was trying to sleep. But the harder he tried to ignore it, the clearer Harry's face became in his mind. His eyes tried to look away - moving quickly under his eyelids, but Harry was still smiling at him. 'Hell - go away,' he thought to himself, furiously. He could not stop thinking about Harry, and after 10 minutes he was no less aroused.

He realised suddenly that his hand had gotten into his pyjama bottoms and had taken hold of his most intimate part. Draco had, of course, done this before - he usually used his wand - and he knew how to get the best out of himself. Usually, however, there was no face, just an object - Draco didn't know what it was. As he approached his climax however, he could only see one thing in his head - Harry. His breathing became heavier and his pace increased - if only Harry were here - if only he could tell Harry how he felt...

His climax hit him like an express train - his body tensed up and for an instant Draco couldn't even remember where he was, then he relaxed again, his hand and the inside of his trousers suddenly warm and sticky. Draco was astounded at the power - it had never felt that good without magic before. In his mind, Harry was still smiling and laughing, but as he lay there, Draco knew how hard it was going to be to tell anyone how he felt, especially as the only person he would talk to about this kind of thing was the same person whom he held these feelings for. Draco had never had anyone in his life before whom he would even have contemplated for a second talking to about such deeply personal issues, but he felt somehow that he would be able to tell Harry Potter about this kind of thing. There was something about Harry's nature, his whole aura - you could see it in his eyes. 'His eyes,' thought Draco. In Harry's eyes he could see trust and warmth. Years of isolation and loneliness had drained Draco's eyes of warmth. He did have beautiful grey eyes, but there was no warmth left. Draco realised in that moment how desperately sad he was, and how much he had wanted a friend, for so long. How, hopefully, he had one.

Draco sat up abruptly and, noticing that he was still sticky, reached for his wand to clear up the mess he had made in his pyjamas, on his sheets and on his hand. He then reached for the parchment he had charmed, and grabbed a quill. He was still picturing Harry in his mind, and was excited to have this way of communicating with him. It would never be as good as face to face - never as good as their evening in the Potions room, but it was good enough.

* * *

When Harry checked his watch as he made his way to the Gryffindor common room - its was 11 o'clock. His stomach twinged slightly as he realised how long he had spent in the dungeons - what excuse could he use for Ron and Hermione? He reached the portrait hole and absentmindedly intoned the password, still thinking fast on his feet.

Ron and Hermione looked up from their sofa when they heard the portrait hole open up. A rush of cold air followed Harry into the room before the portrait had swung back into position, and Hermione shivered slightly, and snuggled closer, her back against Ron's chest as they lay on the sofa together.

"Hey Harry," said Ron, inviting Harry to come sit with them.

"Hey," replied Harry to the pair of them, sitting down on an armchair opposite his best friend.

"You're a bit late coming back, Harry, did you have trouble?" asked Hermione, sitting up slightly.

"I bet Malfoy was being a dick, eh Harry?" Ron cut across.

"Yea - I had a little trouble, and Malfoy wasn't helping matters much. I got it done though," Harry lied.

"I can't believe Snape put you with Malfoy," said Hermione.

"I can," started Ron, "he knows they hate each other. And it was an additional excuse to give some points to Slytherin, especially after all those points McGonagall took off Goyle for screwing up in Transfiguration. Did you hear about that?"

"Yes, Ron, but Malfoy hadn't done anything wrong, why him? I could have helped Harry."

"He's very good at Potions though," said Harry almost proudly, and then bit his tongue.

Ron looked at him, and then turned to Hermione. "Hermione, did Harry just say something about Malfoy that wasn't an insult?" He pretended to be overcome, "I think I might faint. Or be sick."

Hermione pulled the half-frown that she always wore when she though that either of them were being immature, and then sat forward on the sofa, looked at Harry, and said, "What did you have trouble on then, Harry? I bet Malfoy wasn't any help at all."

"It's OK - I got it done," said Harry quickly, and tried to think of something that would change the subject.

"Fine. What about your extra homework then?"

Harry sat back and put his hands into his pockets, then withdrew then sharply. Hermione stared at him questioningly.

"Actually, Hermione, if you don't mind, I'm quite tired," he forced a yawn, "think I'll go to bed." With that, Harry stood up, grabbed his back and set off up the spiral staircase to the dormitory. "'Night," he called across the room.

While he was mounting the stairs, two at a time, Harry plunged his hand back into his pocket, and when he entered the dormitory, he flung the hot piece of parchment onto his bed. Slinging his bag across the floor where it subsequently collided with the side of his trunk, Harry took off his robes, quickly changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, school robes left in a heap on the floor.

He snatched the parchment from the foot of his bed and sat back, leaning against his pillows and the headboard. Looking up briefly, he noticed that in his haste he had forgotten to draw the hangings on his bed. He knelt up and reached forwards with both hands, and as he sat back down, pulled the hangings right up to the head of the bed. He pulled his covers back up, then his attention returned to the parchment.

It became immediately obvious why the parchment had been hot - the ink was, even now, still glistening wet on the two words which had appeared on the page:

Hello Potter.

Harry sat there for a moment, admiring the parchment and Draco's charmwork. Then he reached for his quill and ink and wrote a reply:

Hello Malfoy - I'm here. I didn't realise the parchment would heat up when you wrote to me.

In his dormitory, in the castle basement, Draco stared at the message curiously, a little heat rising in his face as he thought about why Harry's parchment was hot. 'Why?' he wondered. Then he scratched a message back onto the parchment with his quill:

I don't know why it would have done that - mine doesn't

Never mind - what do you want

Just seeing if you would write back to me

Harry noticed that the parchment wasn't reheating with each message, but made nothing of it. What he was surprised to notice was that he was aroused. He knew that he wasn't thinking about anything else other then Draco at that moment - his mind was still full of admiration for his skill and passion for Potions, his flair for wand work - the parchment was right there on his lap. He was more surprised to find that, although he felt all mushy inside, he found that it didn't feel odd. As he thought this, fresh images came into his mind: the look on Draco's face when Harry had completed the Potion - it had almost been pride; Draco's smile when Harry had entered the room, his slight breathlessness when he had welcomed Harry to the Potions room. Harry sighed, and closed his eyes. The images of Draco became sharper once he wasn't staring at the scarlet hangings of his bed. He loved this image - it had now moved on, and he and Draco were out on the Quidditch pitch, on broomsticks together, staring into each others eyes with huge smiles on their faces - doing what they both loved to do best.

Draco didn't know what was happening. Harry hadn't written back to him for several minutes, and the parchment in his hands was growing extremely hot - too hot to touch, he dropped it onto his bed-sheets. Holding his quill as far up as he could whilst still writing legibly, he managed at scrawl the words:

Are you still there, Potter? What are you doing?

He was quite worried - he hoped that nobody had walked in on Harry and caught him with the magical parchment. If so, he had just dropped Harry right in it.

Harry opened his eyes, and saw Draco's message. He felt a rush of yet more warmth towards the Slytherin. Draco's parchment was glowing red around the edges. Harry couldn't think of anything much to write, so he merely replied, Yes.

What were you doing? I thought someone had found you or something.

Harry shuddered, but at the same time found himself briefly amused by the thought of someone discovering him holding an erection over a piece of parchment with messages from Malfoy on it. He thought about what he could write without lying: I was just thinking was all he could think of - he couldn't think of anything else, there was no more room in his head with all his images of Malfoy flying around on broomsticks inside it.

Draco was slightly annoyed by Harry's vagueness, although he had a good idea why it was so. 'Whatever happened when I used Harry's wand captured some powerful magic,' he thought, 'this parchment seems to be able to detect emotion.' He didn't have any proof of this, and he wondered for a moment whether his certainty came from a hope, deep down inside of his being, that wanted Harry to feel the same way as he did. Lost momentarily in his thoughts, Draco smiled again as images of Harry's smiling face filled his head. He didn't think he'd reap anything interesting from asking his next question, 'but it's worth a shot,' he thought:

Who about?

Draco bit his lip instantly, why had he put 'who,' he had meant to put 'what'. Draco held his breath as he waited for the reply.

Harry's heart jolted as he read Draco's message, 'how does he know I'm thinking about someone?' he wondered, 'I can't tell him. Not tonight anyway. It's probably just a coincidence.' He noticed that the parchment was faintly warm. Frowning at the parchment, he wrote, Nobody - just about stuff, you know. Anyway - I'm tired. Talk tomorrow. 'Night.

Draco's heart fell slightly, but he had received the kind of response he had expected; it did lift a little however, although Draco didn't really know why, as he read the 'Night. He smiled, and tried to think of something endearing, but not sloppy or creepy: Sweet dreams...he wrote, wanting with all his heart to be able to write more. He stared at the message he had written and, holding the tip of his quill up off the page, he traced the words my love after the message he knew Harry had received, and then traced kisses over every inch of the paper, taking every care not the let the quill touch the paper, but his brow furrowed with the frustration of wanting to know what would happen if he did. He stared at the parchment for a further five minutes, then wiped it with his wand and hid it in the drawer of his bedside table. He pushed the drawer closed, then lay back and stared unseeingly at the canopy of his bed. All he could see was Harry's face. He shut his eyes, and turned to lie on his side, forcing his eyelids down. It felt like he was just staring at the insides of them. Eventually tiredness carried him off into a deep, dreamless sleep

* * *

When he woke in the morning, Draco found that he was annoyed at himself for not having dreamt about Harry. He lay there, snug in his bed, thinking about all they could have gotten up to a whole night to themselves. His eyes shut, he pretended he could feel heat coming from another body in the bed, next to him - Harry's body. He reached over his shoulder, and knocked a glass from his bedside table, and was brought back to earth with a thud.

Picking the glass up and setting it back on the table and magicking the spilled water away with his wand, he lay back again and then thought about what Harry might be doing at this moment, 'sleeping probably,' he thought, and knowing he wasn't going to be able to get any more sleep, got out of bed and went into the bathroom for a shower.

On the other side of the castle, Harry was awake. He was still in bed, but was staring fixedly at the canopy over his bed. He was thinking hard. He had just spent the whole night dreaming about Draco Malfoy. He couldn't think of ever having dreamt of a girl in this context, or anyone else at all for that matter. He had only had dreams this vivid as a result of some magical link, through his scar, to Lord Voldemort. He felt slightly scared by it, as things in those vivid dreams generally turned out to be either true or fairly accurate representations of events past or present. He had had feelings like this before, not as strong and not about Malfoy, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it - it was a primal instinct.

It didn't feel quite normal, though it definitely didn't feel wrong to him. He had thought about it before in recent weeks, but only as a 'what-if' scenario, and never with this much feeling. He thought through a list of people whom he could talk to about this and as he thought about it, the most sensible person to talk to about this seemed to be Draco. He shuddered at the thought of telling Draco, another boy, how he felt, but for some reason he felt that Draco wouldn't take offence to it, or think any the less of him for having done so. 'Omitting last night, Malfoy couldn't think any less of me anyway,' he thought.

In a bad mood though, Draco was also the most likely of anyone to spread what Harry told him around the school. Then everyone would know. He couldn't have that. Harry made up his mind to talk to Draco about it - not using the enchanted parchment though, it was way too risky for that. He would simply arrange to meet up with Draco at some point, preferably at night though there was a Hogsmeade weekend in about a months' time. The way he felt now though, he felt he might explode if he waited a whole month.

* * *

Harry had no spare time the weekend after the extra potions lesson with Draco. Having not had any time to do work on Friday night, and with Quidditch practise sessions for most of the day on Sunday, Harry had had to do all his homework on Saturday. After breakfast, he had spent literally the entire day working. Come 10 o'clock that night, when he eventually finished, he felt completely worn out. He felt as if he didn't want to have to get up the next day for Quidditch, although he knew that however much he grumbled about it now, it would be worth it as soon as his feet left the ground.

After a fraught weekend, Harry's thoughts returned to his plan when he woke on Monday morning. Ron, and Hermione especially, had noticed that Harry didn't seem to be concentrating particularly hard in his classes - he seemed preoccupied. Hermione didn't bother to ask him what was wrong, and Ron had learnt from her that there was no point in asking Harry if anything was wrong until at least the third day of this behaviour. They knew that Harry would merely inform them that nothing was the matter and continue to be preoccupied on his own.

That evening at dinner, as Harry picked at some food, and Hermione noticed that he kept looking across the room in the direction of the unusually quiet Slytherin table. Hermione quickly scanned the Slytherin table as she stood up to fetch a plate of roast lamb from further down the table, and saw that Malfoy wasn't at dinner. When she returned to her seat, Harry had left the table. She just caught a glimpse of the end of his robes whipping round the door to the Entrance Hall before the door shut again with a quiet boom.

Harry thought of going down to the dungeons to see Draco, but figured that it was unlikely that Draco would be the only Slytherin not at dinner. He really wanted to see Draco. He had missed him for most of the weekend, catching fleeting glimpses of his white face and floppy blonde hair in the corridors, or from a distance as he had watched the Slytherin Quidditch practise session. 'Draco's so graceful when he flies,' thought Harry, absently picturing in his mind the image of Draco's wonderful form.

Back in his dormitory a few moments later, he bounced onto his bed, took the parchment and grabbed his quill. He dropped the parchment, he had not expected it to be warm - 'why does it always do that?.' Picking it back up and leaning on his copy of Quidditch Through The Ages he wrote: Hello. Draco - you there? He held his breath, waiting, hoping for a reply. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, in a way that it shouldn't really, just in anticipation of a message.

Covered in sweat, Draco opened his eyes, and reached for his wand to clear away the mess he had made on his sheets again. Sitting up, he saw that there was a message on the parchment. He snatched up a quill, and took the paper off the table next to his bed - it tingled slightly as he held it.

On the other side of the castle, Harry recoiled as the parchment suddenly became searing hot. Tentatively touching it again, he felt that it had cooled.

Draco, a little breathless with the combined cardiovascular effects of his previous activity and the receipt of Harry's message, scribbled: Hey Harry - I'm here.

Harry stared at the parchment and smiled. Even when it was written down, it was a little unusual, no, unheard of, for him to be called 'Harry' by Draco Malfoy. He continued smiling, as another message appeared - a message which took him by surprise.

I want to see you - where can you meet me?

Harry stared at this new message, excitement coursing through him. Being out an about in the castle at night was almost commonplace for Harry, but with his new companion, it took on a whole new light. It seemed to Harry that there was urgency in Draco's voice.

Draco looked at his message and hoped it hadn't given the wrong impression - he only wanted to see Harry because he actually missed him, not because there was anything wrong, particularly. Draco wasn't sure on what level he missed Harry, but was sure that he did.

"Entrance Hall?" scribbled Harry.

Sure - meet you there in 10 minutes. Bring something warm - I fancy a walk outside.

Draco decided that this encounter should be special, so he centre-parted his hair with his magic comb, and put on his best, green velvet robes, thinking that he could use the excuse that it was cold outside and that these were his thickest robes. He brushed his teeth, then set off the for Entrance Hall, managing to get through the Slytherin common room before Pansy noticed that he was dressed up.

* * *

Ten minutes later, standing alone in the Entrance Hall, Harry wondered if Draco had been playing a trick on him, but then Harry's heart skipped as he saw Draco looking dashing and a little out of breath, emerge from a staircase from the dungeons. He suddenly felt very self-conscious; Draco was standing before him looking absolutely stunning (Harry couldn't feel anything except his heart pounding in his throat) and there was Harry in his school robes and a shawl, which looked as if it hadn't been washed since the day it was made, hanging over his arm. The 'shawl' was actually his father's Invisibility Cloak which looked unwashed due to the coarseness of the hide from which it was made, but the likelihood was that Draco had not seen one before.

"Hi, Harry," said Draco, smiling.

Harry could hardly reply - he was still stunned with Draco's appearance and the warm level of his voice which didn't quaver at all, considering he had just run up three flights of stairs.

"Hey," croaked Harry, having difficulty breathing.

Draco regarded Harry. He had hoped for a reaction such as this. Even though Harry hadn't said anything about his attire, Draco could see Harry checking him out, and heard the breathlessness in his voice which could not be due to Harry having spent 5 minutes hanging around in the cold. Draco smiled to himself - a glimmer of hope had appeared on a horizon that had been completely grey until the previous Friday morning.

"Let's go for a walk," suggested Draco warmly. He wanted to step forwards and offer Harry his arm, but he decided he needed to 'test the water' first.

"After an invitation like that..." replied Harry, smiling, leaving the rest of the response hanging. Draco smiled at Harry and they left the castle through the great heavy doors together.

Harry's mind was racing. He hadn't wanted it to seem like he was flirting with Draco, indeed he hadn't really decided that he was going to do so. He was aware that the way his response had come out might seem a bit flirtatious, but was relieved that Draco had seemed not only to pick up on it, but also to have enjoyed it. Harry didn't know whether he was pleased or not. Of course he was pleased that the person whom he couldn't stop thinking about seemed to feel the same way too, but he was suddenly hit by the thought that he hadn't even considered the implications that certain news might have on his pre-existing friendships, most importantly, Ron. He did not dwell on these thoughts, however, and continued to enjoy his walk with Draco.

Harry had discovered, by accident one night, that if you wore the Invisibility Cloak inside out, you did not vanish from sight. It didn't look great, but it was incredibly warm. The main problem was that although it wasn't obviously (to the untrained eye) that it was an Invisibility Cloak, but that it was very obvious that you were wearing it inside out. All the time while Draco and Harry were walking silently, side by side down towards the lake, Harry was sure that he could feel, even though their sides were not in contact, that Draco was giggling to himself.

"What?" asked Harry, trying to sound annoyed, but knowing what was coming.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to notice that you have your cloak on inside out!"

Although Harry had anticipated the question, he hadn't thought of a response. They were standing by the side of the lake. Harry, trying to ignore the question, leaned out a little as if he were looking into the lake. Draco turned to face him.

"Come here," he said, gently, leaning towards Harry a little.

For a moment, Harry thought Draco wanted to kiss him, but then he felt Draco's hand loosening the cloak from Harry's shoulders. He relaxed a little, but somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, he was deeply disappointed that Draco hadn't kissed him. He didn't resist the removal of the cloak from his shoulder, but looked straight into Draco's eyes for his reaction when it was replaced.

When Draco swung the cloak back over Harry's shoulders, his plan had been to fall towards Harry so that Harry would catch him. Instead he saw Harry vanish from sight, and almost fell in the lake in his shock. He didn't actually scream, but he the sight gave him a huge fright and he made a sound like he'd been punched in the stomach. He looked back where Harry had been, and looked confusedly at Harry's head, floating about five and a half feet off the floor, with nothing evidently supporting it.

"Oh, neat trick Potter," he said, trying to sound as if he had been expecting something like that. It came out more like a sneer though. "What is that?" he asked, with genuine interest.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak, which I inherited from my father," replied Harry, grinning at Draco, who smiled back.

"Wow," he marvelled, "I haven't seen one of these before, they're supposed to be really rare." The exact words Ron had used at Christmas years earlier rang through Harry's head.

"You can't see one right now," he quipped and Draco, laughing a little, looked back up at Harry's face, instead of staring through him at the ground beyond. "Come and join me," said Harry.

Not likely to refuse wearing an Invisibility Cloak, for one, and being in such proximity to Harry for two, Draco literally bounded forwards. Harry lifted up the cloak so that Draco could see where he was aiming and then pulled him close up once was underneath, so that the cloak would conceal both of their bodies completely. It was an odd feeling, they both agreed, looking at each other's heads with no bodies in sight. The grinned at each other, then Harry's invisible arms lifted the cloak up over both their heads - Draco jumped a little as he saw Harry's head disappear, then realised that his own must have too, as he felt the slightly rough fabric of the cloak against his face and in his hair. He nudged Harry in the side, gently, by way of reprimand for this new surprise.

After about 15 minutes of Draco's experimentation of what one could do under an Invisibility Cloak (during which he had to restrain himself, as his imagination let him go much further than Harry might in these circumstances) they pulled off the cloak, and to anyone looking it would have been a great shock to suddenly see two sixteen-year-old boys appear from nowhere in the middle of the grounds of a large castle.

They walked slowly back towards the lake, where they sat down, side by side. It was quite dark by now, and reasonably cold. It had been hot under the cloak though, so they both removed their cloaks to cool off and enjoy some fresh air. It was very sticky with two people under the cloak, so they sat there in silence, just enjoying each other's company whilst trying to settle their breathing down again.

Harry, for whom manoeuvres under his father's cloak were commonplace, found that he had caught on to Draco's spirit of discovery, and felt almost the way he had when he had used the cloak for the first time. The adrenaline he felt when he had first snuck unseen past Filch, or when he had been on tenterhooks wondering if the cloak worked on cats. He also found that he was completely comfortable with Draco's close presence. Draco sighed then lay back. Harry lay back next to him, looking at the sky. It was an odd kind of sky - one half was completely clear, you could see most of the stars, but to their right as they lay there were thick clouds. Well, the boys assumed they were thick, but they could only tell that they were there because the moon was obscured.

Draco elbowed Harry gently in the side, trying to get the point of his elbow between Harry's ribs. Harry giggled then nudged him back. Soon their arms were all over each others sides as they tried to tickle each other. It turned out that they were both very ticklish, and there was no clear 'winner' of their little play-fight. They fell apart again and looked into each others eyes, just small twinkles in the corner of a sea of black. There was no point staying out any longer, it was pitch black. As they helped each other stand up and felt around for their cloaks, it began to snow heavily. They looked at each other, and laughed out loud together. Then they snatched up their garments and ran as fast as they dared, not being able to see much, back up to the castle doors. An inch had fallen by the time they almost ran into the doors and let themselves inside.

Leaning their backs on the closed doors, they each tried to regain their breath. Then they caught each others' eyes, and began to laugh again. Then they heard voices coming from the dungeon steps. Draco ran behind Harry, who duly swung the Invisibility Cloak over the pair of them, and they tried to quietly manoeuvre themselves into a corner. Just as they knocked against one of the suits of armour which flanked the doors, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson all emerged from the stairway. They all three stared at the suit of armour, before Pansy screeched.

"Piss off, Peeves!!!"

Goyle thumped her, quite hard Harry thought, but he didn't care. Anyway Pansy hit him back just as hard, and they proceeded to the front doors. Checking that the coast was clear, and that no teachers or cats or Filches or Snapes had heard Pansy, they left the castle.

"I wonder where they're going," Harry whispered to Draco.

"I have a fair idea," replied Draco, "Goyle managed to get some Billywigs from some relative of his in Australia." Harry was nonplussed as to what Draco was talking about. Not being able to see Harry's face, Draco didn't realise that an explanation was necessary.

"Err...what are Billywigs?" asked Harry, a little embarrassed.

"What?"

"Billywigs. I've never heard of them before. You know, brought up by muggles."

"Oh - poor sod. They're small flying insect-type things with stings on them. They're banned in school because of the side-effects when they sting you. They make you levitate and feel numb. Pointless really."

"Have you..."

"No!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't worry - you weren't to know. Brought up by muggles and all," Draco nudged Harry in the side to emphasise his joke.

"Yea, yea, very good," said Harry, elbowing Draco back rather hard.

"Tell you what," said Draco, "you remember in second year when Pansy was out of lessons for a week?"

"No, but go on."

"Well, she stung herself a few too many times, and was stuck hovering for 4 days, and was numbed into unconsciousness. Stupid bitch!"

"You shouldn't call her that - she likes you a lot."

"And when did she tell you this," asked Draco, a little irritated that Harry was talking about girls, but appreciating the joke.

"She didn't have to tell me, anyone can see it from a mile away. Even Ron notices. You know too, because you egg her on!"

"I know - she thinks I'm interested in her!!"

Harry turned around, under the cloak, so that he was facing Malfoy, even though he still couldn't see him. "Who are you interested in, then!" he breathed. Draco felt Harry's warm, fresh breath on his face and hoped he knew what Harry wanted. He wasn't just going to give it to him though.

"Let me tell you about that," he breathed back, and checking there was nobody around, walked out from under the cloak into the Great Hall. Excited but apprehensive, Harry followed, and the two boys sat opposite each other at one end of the Gryffindor table. Harry pulled the cloak off, and put it on the bench next to him. Draco was looking into Harry's eyes, Harry looked back. There was warmth in Draco's eyes that Harry had never seen before. In his own time, Draco began to speak, very quietly but Harry caught every word of his soft voice.

"You know the parchment I charmed after Potions that day?" he began, but he didn't wait for Harry's response.

"Well, I thought it was odd when you said that your parchment was warm when I wrote you that evening."

As Draco continued, Harry could sense that Draco was very anxious and nervous. It wasn't a normal feeling though, like when you know how someone is feeling by looking at them or listening to them. Harry could feel in his mind that Draco's mind was racing. It was an odd feeling that Harry hadn't experienced before, although it was not uncomfortable, as he could also sense that his reaction to what Draco was saying would affect Draco hugely. Harry could tell that Draco was very vulnerable to Harry. Draco continued:

"Well, during the time when you weren't responding to my messages, when I thought you'd been found out, my parchment got very hot indeed."

Harry began to feel a little uncomfortable about where the story was going regarding his personal activities, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel that Draco's emotions were high as well. The candles, floating above their heads were behaving strangely; the ones around the walls were flickering and the flames were tall and smoky; the candles nearer to the pair of them were dimmer than usual, and the ones directly overhead were only glowing as if they had just been blown out, though there was no smoke. Draco's face was lit only by the ambient light from the farthest candles.

Draco decided that Harry's response definitely suggested the answer he had suspected as to why the parchment had heated up so much, so he continued.

"Well, I though that perhaps during your silence you were doing, maybe, the same ... erm ... thing I had been doing before I wrote to you in the first place."

Draco's words sounded difficult, embarrassed and shy. His usually pale face had turned slightly red.

Harry could sense what Draco was actually thinking, and knew that he was right. This was right. Draco, he could tell, was having the same experience in his head too. As the tension grew, the blood in both their heads began to pound. The pair of them were having the same thoughts, there was some intrinsic magical force acting on the pair of them. As they both leaned inwards, over the table, the candles in the room were all sputtering as if starved of air.

Their lips met, lightly brushing together, and a huge energy shot between the two teenagers. It was not at all painful, but an immense magical rush and an instant understanding passed between them. As the magical and emotional tension in the room rushed back to equilibrium, every candle in the room flared up, filling the huge room with a blinding white light that seemed to emanate also from the boys themselves. Through his closed eyelids, Harry could see the flash that, once their lips parted again, vanished. The pair of them were left quite dazzled.

They gazed into each others' eyes for what felt like a wonderful eternity. Both of them felt more relaxed than perhaps ever before in their lifetimes; in the whole world, the only thing that mattered was each other. There was a creak of a door. Malfoy was facing the door, and Harry saw his pupils dilate slightly and flick to his right. Then Draco's eyes widened. Harry felt what Draco was seeing and seized the Invisibility Cloak, jumping over the table and covering them both with it as he landed next to Draco.

Draco was breathing quite hard with excitement and apprehension. He breathed into Harry's ear, "Its Mrs Norris - does this work on cats?"

"I think so, better make a move though, because Filch is never far away once that ugly thing smells trouble."

"Right," agreed Draco and, as one, the pair of them stood up and moved together towards the door. As they reached it door, it opened wide, and Filch stood in the frame, wheezing, and looking around for whatever had attracted Mrs Norris' attention. He frowned and pursed his overlarge lips as he stared straight through Draco and Harry, unseeingly. Harry felt Draco's hand in his, and then the knowledge of what Draco was about to do entered his consciousness. They edged silently towards the door, as Filch shuffled into the Great Hall as quietly as he could (which was not very) but evidently he hoped that what he was 'missing' was obscured by the door. As they moved through the doorway into the Entrance Hall, Draco's hand squeezed Harry's and a sound like cannon-fire filled the two cavernous rooms, echoing around and causing Filch to crouch with his hands over his head.

"I'll get you, Peeves," screamed Filch in anger, having made the wrong deduction as to who it had been causing disturbance. Shaking with laughter, Harry and Draco ran down the stairs to the dungeons. Draco was leading, and Harry realised that without thinking, he was probably heading to the Slytherin common room. As they approached a dead end, which Harry presumed concealed an entrance to the Slytherin domain, Harry tugged the back of Draco's robes.

"Oh, damn, yeah right," said Draco.

Harry laughed softly, "how articulate you are, Draco," he said in mock reproach. Draco laughed a little too. "This is your common room, isn't it?"

"Yeah," replied Draco.

"I probably shouldn't go in there - if anyone found us... It's probably against the rules too."

"Against the rules? Since when have rules ever stopped you?" asked Draco, imitating Harry's admonition about his vocabulary, but knowing that Harry was right. If any of the Slytherins saw Harry, he'd never hear the end of it. And, his father would be sure to find out. Checking that there was nobody around, Draco pulled the cloak off their heads. He looked into Harry's eyes, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. As Harry leant forward and kissed Draco back, a rumbling sound started up.

Draco firmly, but not roughly, pushed Harry backwards whist taking a step away at the same time. With the hand that wasn't pushing, Draco managed to place the Cloak perfectly over Harry's head. He whispered, "Good night," and kissed his hand, then turned as an archway like the entrance to Diagon Alley appeared in the slimy wall, a pair of thuggish looking 7^th years emerging through it. Draco waited for the pair to pass and then walked through the archway himself.

'What if I followed him in?' thought Harry, at which point Draco waved his hand slightly, at his side, indicating that Harry should leave.

'Maybe some other time,' the thought, which was Draco's materialized in Harry's head, and he turned to leave. He couldn't stop thinking about how much he had found he loved Draco. 'I love you too.' Harry smiled to himself under the cloak.

The further Harry walked from that dead end corridor, the less charged he felt. It appeared that the further he was away from Draco, the weaker the thought transference between him and Draco seemed to get. He still felt elated and his heart pumped much harder than usual every time he thought of Draco, but the tingling feeling he had experienced since the kiss in the Great Hall had waned slightly. He greeted the Fat Lady with the password and entered the Gryffindor common room, pulling his Cloak from his head, and folding it in his arms.

"Where have you been, Harry?" squealed Hermione, "it's after midnight! You haven't done any of your homework!"

"Hey Hermione, my homework's fine - I didn't have any left after my weekend homework-binge.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm beat. See you two in the morning."

Ron and Hermione bade Harry goodnight, and Hermione watched him cross the room. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, Hermione turned to Ron.

"He's up to something, and I want to find out what," she stated.

"I thought you might."

"Well are you going to help me find out, or not?" It sounded like a bit of a threat.

"Sure, but not tonight. I'm dead tired. See you tomorrow." He kissed her, and followed Harry up the stairs.

"See if he'll tell you anything now," called Hermione.

"I'll do my best," replied Ron, yawning.

'Let's see how far that gets us,' thought Hermione, 'you're far too soft when it comes to Harry.'

* * *

Tuesday morning at breakfast, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together as usual. Harry wasn't saying much, though he was trying to act normally. He didn't really care that Hermione kept pulling Ron towards her and whispering in his ear, she'd been doing that a lot this year anyway, and Ron seemed to enjoy it.

"What did he tell you last night?" whispered Hermione.

"Well, nothing ,'cos eh was, umm, asleep by the time I got upstairs last night."

"You were only thirty seconds behind him, Ron!"

"Well you've never seen him sleep - he's a deep sleeper, Hermione."

"Right, Ron. If you, Harry's best friend, are too shy to ask him what he's been up to of late, then there's no hope for anyone, is there? We'll just have to do this the hard way."

"You're going to..."

"We're going to follow him next time he goes somewhere."

"Like that'll work. One, Harry always goes out in his Invisibility Cloak; two, I think Harry would notice two people following him around, especially if he's being half as secretive as you make out. He's probably just got a girlfriend in another House or something."

"Maybe it's Cho Chang!" said Ron, looking up at the Hufflepuff table, "he's always been really smitten with her. Have you seen the way he looks at her when they play Quidditch? And she flirts right back at him. Hope not though, we can't have him fraternizing with the enemy about our Quidditch tactics."

"You and your enemies, Ron. Last year it was Viktor, this year its Cho Chang, you seem to have something against your friends spending time with good Quidditch players. Anyway, you're forgetting - they fell out, majorly, last year."

"Harry's a good Quidditch player," said Seamus, "what are you talking about?"

"We're talking about Harry," said Hermione, "anyway Ron, Harry wouldn't go spouting tactics all over the place anyway - he's even more competitive than you."

"Are we talking Quidditch or sex appeal here?" asked Seamus.

"Both," said Ron and Hermione together.

"What do you know, Seamus?" asked Hermione.

"No more than you I don't think, just seen Harry leaving the common room and coming in to the dormitory later than usual," replied Seamus.

"Honestly, don't you guys ever talk about girls in your dormitory, where they can't hear you?" asked Hermione, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"Nope," said Ron, "we talk about Quidditch, and how we're going to stuff everyone again this season. Hufflepuff, to stop Chang from smiling quite so much; Slytherin, to show Malfoy how to play the game; and Ravenclaw because they're rubbish anyway." Seamus and Ron cheered together, and Hermione rolled her eyes and turned round to talk to Ginny.

Hermione noticed that Harry had stopped staring across the room, and was looking at the group of boys planning victory parties for matches which hadn't even been drawn yet. He had turned around at the sound of Draco's name. Seeing Hermione trying to catch his eye, he smiled briefly and then turned back to staring. 'He looks so good,' he thought.

Even back in his school robes Draco Malfoy looked stunning. His floppy blonde hair, his effortless, but slightly arrogant smile, and the ease with which he held the attention of whomever he was talking to. Recently, even the cold eyes had started to lighten up. Harry was quite taken aback when Draco's attractive eyes flashed in his direction. There was a hint of a smile, the mere suggestion of acknowledgement, but there were so many better ways to express feelings than in any physical way. 'Most physical ways, anyway,' thought Harry, and then he saw Draco smile. 'All in very good time,' came the thought reply in his head. He smiled and looked back at his meal. To his side he noticed Hermione looking in the direction Harry had been staring in, evidently trying to see whom Harry had been smiling at.

'She'd never think that of either of us.' This thought came particularly strongly into Harry's mind, and he realised that Draco must have been thinking exactly the same thing, and must have seen her looking across in his direction.

'A-ha,' thought Hermione, 'not Cho Chang - Harry has some sense then.' She had previously managed to catch sight of Cho Chang entering the Hall, late for breakfast, and joining the end of the Hufflepuff table. 'I wonder who it could be.'

Her thoughts were interrupted by most of the people around her standing up to go start to school day. Usually Hermione was the first to leave breakfast, and when she caught up with Ron he was surprised to find her at his elbow suddenly.

"Oh, hey Hermione!" he said, "I thought you'd have gone upstairs already."

"Oh, you know - lost track of time," she flustered.

Harry left the table on his own a few minutes later. Draco had also managed to shake off most of the people he had been sitting with, and Harry timed his departure so that he could make his simultaneous arrival at the doors to the Entrance Hall look as innocent as possible. He touched Draco's back as he caught up, then saw the back of Draco's head nod in acknowledgement, then nod once again, slightly angled, indicating that Harry should head up the marble staircase.

Harry walked over to the marble stairs, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Draco made his way over to the suit of armour that they and almost toppled the previous night. Draco pretended to be interested in its design, but was actually watching Harry and monitoring the people in the Entrance Hall in the reflection in the shiny metal.

Harry crouched at the first step to re-tie his shoelaces, as the last of the people to leave breakfast crossed the Entrance Hall and headed up the stairs past him. As they disappeared from sight, Draco and Harry simultaneously turned around, smiling at each other. They crossed the Hall and met in the middle - falling into each others' arms.

"Morning," said Draco warmly.

"Morning," replied Harry. Any caution or wariness between them, which Harry had feared during the previous night since returning to the Common Room thankfully turned out to play no part at all. Draco and Harry felt perfectly natural together.

As they came apart again and stood facing and appraising each other, Harry remembered that it was Tuesday, and that he did actually have lessons to be at.

"What have you got now?" asked Draco.

"Transfiguration, and I'd better hurry. You know how McGonagall gets when people are late!!"

"Sure I do!! Meet you at break?"

"Yea - where?"

"Umm - how about at the base of the Astronomy Tower? It's way out of everybody's way, and we can get a bit of peace there."

"It's a date!!"

Draco smiled at Harry, then turned and walked through a side door headed for the dungeons. Harry walked off up the marble staircase to collect his books from his dormitory.

When he reached the portrait hole, Ron and Hermione were just leaving. They started to ask when Harry had dropped back, but as Harry rushed past, he just called,

"Wait up, will you?"

"Well?" asked Ron of Hermione.

"No idea"

"I thought you were spying on him?"

"It's not spying, Ron."

"Whatever - when are you going to start then?"

"I'm not going to go chasing Harry all over the place, Ron. It's his business what he gets up to, and if doesn't want to tell us, then that's fine." This told Ron that Hermione had a plan. At that point Harry returned and they all headed off to Transfiguration together.

When they reached Professor McGonagall's classroom however, they found a sign on the door telling them to proceed immediately to Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom, due to an unavoidable timetable alteration. Hermione was very put out.

"I spent hours finding out about Transmogrification Hexes for her essay," she complained.

At the moment Professor McGonagall opened the door, "I will take everyone's completed essays now, before you proceed to Charms. Those of you who have not completed the essay," she looked a Ron as she spoke, "will receive a one-off extension on the deadline, and will hand it in tomorrow morning at breakfast."

As they rounded the corner together, Ron breathed a loud sigh of relief. "I thought I'd be dead!!" he said, looking around towards Hermione who, from her facial expression, thought that he ought to be dead too.

"You told be you'd done that essay, Ron," she fumed. "All you wanted to do was go along and spy on the Hufflepuff Quidditch training session last night. You'd deserve a detention for unsportsmanlike behaviour anyway!!"

"Thank you, Professor Granger," muttered Ron to Harry.

Upon arrival at the Charms classroom, they discovered that they were being combined with the timetabled Slytherin Charms class. This put Ron and Hermione both in worse moods that before, but when Harry had heard the sound of Draco's voice around the corner as they had reached the top of the stairs, his heart had lightened considerably - he hadn't done the essay either. Hermione rounded the corner first.

"Hello, Granger," came Malfoy's voice, but before he could continue, Harry arrived and caught Draco's eye. The Slytherin subsequently fell silent and Ron, who had been trying to look tough and threatening, felt as if he'd scored a victory. Or at least it seemed to, as Ron frowned and nodded his head at the back of Malfoy's head.

Professor Flitwick then opened the door and allowed his extra large class to enter the room, and as usual, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors sat separately. Flitwick informed the group that they would, today, be revising Summoning Charms, in preparation for a more complex version of the Charm, which involved Summoning immovable objects as a means of transportation.

"This is especially useful in a place, such as Hogwarts, where one cannot Apparate," he squeaked. "Remember the incantation now, Accio, then a one-word description of the object you which to Summon." He then broke out the cushions they had all used when they had first learnt the Summoning charm, and pretty soon cushions were flying an all direction across the room.

As was usually the case when Gryffindor and Slytherin were in classes together, an intense rivalry broke out between the two groups, as they both tried to Summon as many cushions as they could to their side of the room. Frequently cushions tore in half as two people tried to Summon them in different directions at the same time.

"Accio cushion," called Harry. As his target cushion began to move towards Harry, all the cushions which had been Summoned by the people immediately around him, Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and Neville, fell to the ground, and as each one fell, Harry's accelerated finally hitting him so hard that he was knocked back down onto his seat.

Draco caught Harry's eye, and at that moment Harry received Draco's thought about what he wanted to do. They smiled at each other then at the same instant, both Summoned an old, burgundy coloured cushion from Professor Flitwick's desk. The cushion rose off the desk, but instead of buffeting about as the power of the two spells fluctuated, as was the case with every other contest, the cushion flew, smoothly straight down the middle of the room, until it was in the centre of the space. Draco and Harry were then lifted off their feet and both flew at an equally slow speed until they were 4 feet apart, standing face to face, the cushion hovering between them. Every other cushion in the room was also attracted to Harry and Draco's magic. They both lowered their wands, and a huge pile of cushions fell between them with a quiet flump and a large rush if air. Harry and Draco were looking at each other, temporarily unaware of the presence of the rest of the class. Everyone else was watching them too; partly because they had just Summoned every last cushion in the room, including the stack which Professor Flitwick had been sitting on, and partly because tradition suggested that whenever Harry and Draco were this close, violence was to ensue.

However, the two boys quietly regarded each other, until they became aware that everyone was looking at them.

'Oh great,' thought Harry, and Draco returned the smallest of smiles. They then theatrically frowned at each other, and turned away.

Picking himself back up off the floor and scrambling onto the top of his desk, Professor Flitwick squealed, "My boy, that was excellent!! Wherever did you harness so much power?"

Hermione had a shrewd suspicion, which worried her quite considerably. She wasn't worried for Harry or Draco, but for Ron. She didn't say anything.

As Harry walked back to his desk, Draco levitated five or six cushions and had them gently assault Harry, who was quite surprised by the onslaught. Ron was pissed, and sent a copy of a heavy Charms textbook careening at Malfoy's head.

"Accio wands," commanded Harry, willing Draco's and Ron's wands to come to him. As Ron's and Draco's wands left their hands, the cushions fell to the floor and Ron's textbook thudded down on Crabbe's head. What Harry was not expecting was that he would then have to duck as almost thirty wands came flying at him, end on. He crouched down behind his bench and heard them piling into the other side of the wood where they stuck like arrows in an archers' target. Everyone stared, and there was complete silence.

The bell rang and everyone quietly went to find and extricate their wand from Harry's bench. Neither Harry, Ron nor Hermione said a word as they left the room together, but as he reached the door, the thought, "Astronomy Tower, now," entered Harry's head. Draco watched the back of Harry's head nodding as he left walked through the doorway.

As they left the room the three of them were immediately swamped by a mass of first years moving through on their way outside for break. Moving along with the flow, Hermione turned around to ask Harry what he had thought of his spectacle in Charms, only to find he wasn't following. She looked down the corridor to see the back of Harry's bag flash out of side up some stairs at the other end of the corridor. As she and Ron began to head downstairs, she saw Draco emerge from the Charms classroom and also begin to scythe his way, countercurrent, through the first years. 'Right,' thought Hermione.

"Hey, Harry..." Ron stopped, then turned to Hermione. "Where'd he go?"

"I think he said something about some homework to hand in, or needing the bathroom, or something," she rushed, then changed the subject. "what have you got after break, Ron?"

"Herbology, Hermione. With you, as usual on a Tuesday before lunch."

"All right, Ron," said Hermione, trying to laugh, "I just forgot."

"Right, where's my diary?" mocked Ron, "I'd better write that down as a first!!" He smiled at Hermione, who smiled back at her boyfriend, and put her arm around him.

At the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, Harry turned around as he heard the soft footfalls of Draco's expensive shoes on the stairs he had just mounted. They smiled broadly at each other, and came together in an intimate hug. When they broke apart, Draco stepped back and surveyed Harry quizzically.

"So what brought on our little production in Charms, do you reckon?"

"No idea. When we both Summoned that cushion the magic kind of took over, I've no idea why."

"Neither have I, but it was pretty cool. I reckon, if it works again, we could take anyone."

"Anyone?"

Draco thought about what he had said, remembering his father's exultation at the return of the dark Lord, then looked at Harry.

"Why not?" he replied, smiling.

Harry smiled back, and opened the zip of the front pocket of his bag, where he had stowed some snacks. He tossed a Chocolate Frog up to Draco, who caught it deftly. Harry pocketed some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and stood up, unwrapping his own Frog. He looked at the card inside,

"Dumbledore, again," he complained. Draco unscrunched his own Frog box to see which card had been placed in his box.

"Boris, the Bewildered," he stated. "You want it?"

"If you don't. I've got loads, but he's always good to trade with."

"You mean you collect these?"

"Yeah. You don't?"

"Umm, no."

"Why not?"

"No point."

Harry pulled the bag of Beans from the pocket of his robes.

"Pff - 'Every Flavour'," scoffed Draco.

"What?"

"Not even every flavour Bertie does is in that bag, let alone every flavour."

"Of course not - you'd need a bag the size of the castle to get every flavour."

"No, you misunderstand me. I have a large collection, at home, filling several large sweetie-jars, of every Bertie Bott's flavour I have ever come across. There are several thousand."

"And you think collecting wizards card's is pointless?" asked Harry, incredulously.

"Of course - you can't eat wizard cards!!"

"With the age of 'all the flavours you've ever come across', I'd doubt if you could eat your beans either!!"

"Well, on account of your scathing attitude, you're not going to get to help me eat them. I shall have them all myself."

"Well, then, you can't see my card collection."

They stopped talking and then started laughing at each other and the puerility of their conversation. The bell rang.

"What have you got now?" asked Draco of Harry.

"Herbology, so I'd better run. You?"

"Divination."

"Divination?"

"Yes. Problem?"

"No, it's just I never pictured you as the kind of person who'd have the patience for her airy-fairy lessons and all those made-up predictions she makes."

"Well, I just consider that it is important to know when one is going to die, and how horrifically. You should have heard her going on about you during the Triwizard Tournament two years ago. You apparently should have died several times by now."

"Tell me about it - it was following that that I quit."

Draco started to head off up the corridor towards the base of the Divination Tower, which was opposite the Astronomy Tower at the north of the castle.

"I'm glad you didn't die, though," he said, and lengthened his stride off up the corridor. Harry stood for a moment and watched him walk, then headed off back down the stairs.

Once he had reached the Herbology greenhouses and ascertained which one his class was in this week, Harry entered the lesson, apologizing to Professor Sprout's frown for his lateness. They were working on re-potting magical fungus spores, which was not a particularly challenging task, although copious amounts of dragon dung manure was required. Hermione was the dung collector for the first ten minutes or so, as Ron and Harry talked about Charms. The first thing that Ron has said to Harry as he had walked over to them and dumped his bag by a tottering pile of plant pots had been;

"Whoa - Harry, are you alright? I thought you'd had to go to the hospital wing or something after what Malfoy did to you with all those wands and your little 'pillow fight'."

"No - I was fine after all that, I just had to go to the bathroom, I drank far too much at breakfast."

"Funny, I didn't see you eat or drink very much at all this morning," contested Hermione.

"Look, Hermione, when nature calls..." said Ron knowingly, in Harry's defence.

"Oh no," said Hermione, as a watering can fell from the bench and dumped water all over the floor, washing over everyone's shoes as a tidal wave of water spread across the floor of the greenhouse. "Ron, could you go and fill that back up for me?"

"Sure," replied Ron, thankful for any diversion from the bore that was re-potting fungus spores. Magical watering cans took a while to fill as they were magically expanded to carry more water, plus the tap was on the other side of the Herbology gardens.

As Ron walked off, Hermione came and stood right next to Harry.

"I know," she whispered to him, almost inaudibly. Harry's stomach jolted a little.

"You know what?" he asked, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

"Where you went at break time. Well, not exactly where you went, but who you went with."

"I went upstairs to the bathroom on the top floor, I figured it was the nearest."

"Harry," said Hermione sounding a little disappointed in Harry, "you know that the nearest ones are those on the third floor, which is a lot nearer to the fourth floor Charms classroom than the seventh floor! You went upstairs because there aren't many people around up there."

"I..." Harry began.

"It's OK, Harry, I just wanted you to know that I know about you and Malfoy." Harry didn't respond to this, although through his silence Hermione was assured that she was right. She put her hand on his arm, "I haven't told Ron - I can help you through this."

"It's not like I'm ill or anything, Hermione," Harry whispered furiously, "just because I lo.., because I like Draco doesn't mean that I'm not all there"

"Like Malfoy?" probed Hermione, "I bet you've been really worried about what we'd all think - especially Ron."

Harry looked into her eyes, tears beginning to well in his own. Hermione was always so sensitive and considerate to everyone else, she always knew what other people were feeling and could always make them feel better. Harry regarded this as Hermione's greatest quality.

"We'll think of a way," she promised. At that moment Ron returned laden with water.

* * *

Term was drawing on, and as the first hint of frost and snowy weather began to arrive at Hogwarts, and an extra trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled for the students to do their Christmas shopping. The villagers always outdid themselves to make the little village look as merry as possible during this time of year, and with holly and fairies strung across the street, large and heavily decorated Christmas trees outside the shops and pubs and the entire picture laden with several inches of snow, Christmas spirit was rife among the students. In the castle itself the Great Hall decorations were second only to Professor Flitwicks own classroom, both of which he was responsible for the decoration of. On the Friday evening before the Hogsmeade trip, as Harry left the Hall with Ron and Hermione, he felt someone's hand enter his pocket. He looked around and saw Draco walking behind him.

"Shh," he said, barely audibly, then walked off towards the dungeons. Ron was talking excitedly about all the places he planned to go the next day, and what he was going to buy.

"I'll need about half an hour to go buy your present, though," he said to Hermione, "because you're not allowed to see it before Christmas"

"Well I'll probably need about as much time to find you something," she said swinging Ron's hand in her own.

As his friends continued to talk as the three of them progressed down the corridor, Harry dug his hands into the pocket of his robes, and found that Draco had deposited a small scrap of parchment in there. He pulled it from his pocket and read the message, written in the script Harry had loved reading every night for the past weeks,

Meet me up by the Shrieking Shack at 11 tomorrow. I want to spend some nice, quality time with you without the risk of people walking in on us. Hope that leaves you enough time for Christmas shopping!! Love, Draco

Harry raised his eyebrows in alarm, as he realised that he had fallen behind Ron and Hermione while reading the message, and that they were now watching him walk up the corridor at his own pace. 'Oh crap,' thought Harry, 'they can't see this.'

"Hurry up, Harry - we'll miss out on the good seats by the fire," called Ron to him, who was partial to having the fire close at hand, so that he could up his batting average for actually getting his homework to land in the fire when he messed up.

"Hold on," he called back, stooping as if to tie his shoelace and hiding the message in the top of his left sock. He stood again, and caught up with his friends. Fortunately, when they reached the common room there was still a small sofa and an armchair left in reasonable proximity to the fire. Ron and Hermione made a beeline for the sofa, while Harry detoured round by the hearth, stooping again and tossing the note into the fire before settling opposite them.

"What was that, Harry," said Ron, seeing the parchment flare in the flames."

"Oh, um, nothing - just a scrap of parchment with something I was supposed to remember."

"Oh?"

"And I remembered, so I no longer need the note," he said smartly, smiling at Ron.

Ron leaned over to Hermione, and while looking at Harry, pretended to whisper to her while deliberately talking loudly enough for Harry to hear.

"I think that, with all this time Harry spends away from the common room, and his secret messages, I think that he has a girlfriend in another house." He winked at Harry, then sat back up and continued talking normally.

"So who is it, mate, is Cho Chang hot for you again?" he grinned at Harry, who attempted to grin back. He caught Hermione's eye, she was staring pointedly at Harry who tried to communicate a what can I do to her while not looking too conspicuous.

"What?" asked Ron, "she wasn't that bad!"

Hermione managed to change the subject by asking Ron how much homework he had. The effect was as desired;

"For God's sake, Hermione, it's Friday evening! Can you give it a rest with the homework for just one night a week? Honestly!"

While Ron was ranting, Hermione looked back over to Harry, who shrugged looking as if he did not have a clue what to do about telling Ron, as indeed he did not.

Harry yawned widely, "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, guys."

Harry did go to bed, but he lay there staring at the canopy of his bed, trying to think of a way to tell Ron. Something told him that it would be better to do it sooner rather than later, and that he should just tell him straight, not get anyone else to do it, or do it in writing. He turned over and closed his eyes, having decided to tell Ron, but not having a clue what he was going to say, or when. 'I'll ask Draco,' was his final thought before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"You went out like a light last night, mate," Ron told him at breakfast the next morning. "Leg hanging out under the hangings and snoring like a foghorn when I came upstairs. I was only 20 minutes behind you."

Harry laughed with Ron, Dean and Seamus, picturing himself lumped across his bed, limbs hanging out. Everyone was excited about the Hogsmeade trip. They happened quite regularly, once every month or two, but the Christmas trip was always the most special. Even though it was the last Saturday of term, the Great Hall was as packed as any school day with people filling themselves for a good days' shopping and general enjoyment.

Once they had finished eating the Gryffindors trooped out of the Hall and back up to the dormitory to wrap up warm and collect their money pouches, before they headed right back downstairs, out of the oak front doors into an extra foot of fresh snow. This now meant that on the route between the front doors and the gate to Hogsmeade, which was untrodden since the last trip, there was three feet of snow, so those in the lead very rapidly got very wet robes.

Ron wanted to go straight to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer to 'get him started', but Hermione wouldn't hear it.

"You've literally just finished breakfast, Ron," she nagged.

"You two sound like an old married couple," laughed Harry.

"Oh, yea? You meeting your mystery other half here today, or is it still a secret?" asked Ron, teasing Harry back. Harry didn't answer, entering the Hogsmeade Outpost of Gringotts bank for some extra gold. The building was a world apart from the magnificent white building in Diagon Alley. This was a shabby, moulding old house with the surliest of goblins at the service desk.

Armed with gold, Harry left the branch and headed off with Ron and Hermione. He looked at his watch; it was now twenty past ten. 'Forty minutes,' he thought to himself. He wanted to spend some time with Ron and Hermione before he used the 'I have to go buy your presents now' excuse, and as this was actually true, it meant that Harry could only realistically spend another twenty minutes, tops, with his friends before he left them.

"Actually, Hermione, I fancy a Butterbeer too."

"Yes - good man, Harry!" cheered Ron. Hermione sighed and walked into the Three Broomsticks in front of the two boys, and ordered three tankards of Butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta. When she returned to the table that Harry and Ron had sat at in the corner of the pub, Ron mimicked her.

"You've only just had your breakfast, Hermione!" he said, winking at her. She pretended to frown, and replied in a forced voice which Harry supposed was supposed to be Ron's.

"Yea, well, I didn't eat much and I need a Butterbeer to get me started up." They grinned at each other, then Ron pulled out a chair for her.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she said, and elegantly sat down beside him. The three of them then sat and talked while they finished their Butterbeers.

"Hey," said Ron suddenly, "Fred and George wrote to tell me that they've managed to rent a unit up here for the Christmas season - said sales have really taken off and they want to take advantage of the Hogwarts Christmas crowd!"

"Oh," said Hermione, genuinely interested, "I was wondering how their sales had been getting on, weren't you, Harry?"

"Yea," Harry lied. As a major financial backer of Fred and George's enterprise Harry had been receiving statements from the pair as they business had taken off, and knew that they had recouped many times what he had gifted to them to kick off their dream.

"I need to go off and buy your guy's presents," said Harry, standing up, "meet you back at school later. I'm not risking you guys seeing your stuff before time!!"

Ron stared at the back of Harry's head as his black-haired friend left the pub, and looked as if he had half a mind to follow him to see where he went. Sensing this, Hermione grabbed is arm.

"Let's go see Fred and George," she suggested enthusiastically. Harry vanished from Ron's mind, he had not seen his twin brothers since the start of school last autumn.

Harry whipped around the shops he had mapped out in his head - he knew exactly what he was going to buy Hermione and Ron, but was trying to make time to decide what to buy for Draco. With a complete, new-season Chudley Cannons Quidditch strip for Ron and a magical mini-library for Hermione, he set off in search of a suitable gift for his boyfriend. Eventually he found something. Having remembered their lengthy discussion about Quidditch after Harry's remedial Potions lesson with Draco, Harry remembered that Draco supported the Chudley Cannons too. He could not imagine Draco doing anything as low-class as sporting a Quidditch strip other than that of Slytherin house, so he bought him bright orange, silk pyjamas with the Cannons' logo on the breast.