The Spirit of Death

It took Harry a long while to get to sleep that night, though not exclusively because of his worry about Ron. On Christmas morning Harry was quite tired, and was also walking stiffly as Draco had repaid him, in kind, for the evening they had arrived in Privet Drive. With Draco's reassurance, Harry was sure that Ron would not have a problem with them, once he had gotten over the initial double-blow of shock, that Harry was going out with the person they had loathed since day-one at Hogwarts, and that that person was also a boy. They had both woken early, so as they waited for the Dursleys to wake, they lay still, next to each other on the bed, in a peaceful silence.

"Doesn't this all seem a bit unlikely to you?" asked Draco, suddenly.

"What, us?"

"Yea - two months ago we didn't have a word to say to each other."

"I guess its unlikely, but it doesn't feel wrong," said Harry, turning his head to look at Draco. They both smiled serenely at each other, then leant in for a kiss. Then the pair of them heard movement in the surrounding rooms, and figured that it was probably time to go downstairs.

When they walked into the living room, they found that Dudley was already there, shaking all the presents ranged around the base of the plastic Christmas tree. It was true to say that most of them had Dudley's name on them, but both Harry and Draco thought that Dudley was a little too eager for someone his age.

Then Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came into the room in their pyjamas and bathrobes. Aunt Petunia flung herself on Dudley, giving him 'Christmas kisses' which he did not appear to particularly appreciate, while Uncle Vernon surveyed Harry and Draco. He had been outraged when he'd heard that Harry was coming home for Christmas, beside himself with fury when he had heard that Harry was bringing a friend home, and extremely scathing when he'd worked out that the 'friend' was actually a boyfriend.

"That's what boarding school does for you," he'd yelled, "that bloody lot should keep themselves to themselves - I told you they were all messed up, Petunia."

He had quietened down rather abruptly however, when Petunia had explained to him why Harry was coming home.

---

Once each of the Dursleys, Harry and Draco had sunk into armchairs around the room, Aunt Petunia knelt at the bottom of the tree dispatching presents to people. The first five were for Dudley, and while his oversized son tore at the wrapping, Uncle Vernon was surveying Harry again, with a look of some satisfaction on his face.

"Vernon - this is for you, from the boys," Aunt Petunia indicated Harry and Draco, while Uncle Vernon raised his eyebrows.

"This isn't going to explode, or something, is it boys?" he managed to quip drily. The boys each forced a smile at his half-joke, while Vernon gingerly unwrapped the parcel, revealing a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.

"It's the good stuff, sir," said Draco, "and the bottle will always be full."

"Will it indeed?"

Then Aunt Petunia dug out a present from Draco, a flat, square, floppy parcel, which Harry recognized to be from him. Draco read the tag, looked at Harry, then tore the paper off. As the orange strip fell into his lap, his face lit up and his thin lips were drawn into a broad grin.

Once the presents had all been opened, (Draco had gotten Harry a Quaffle signed by the entire England Quidditch team) Harry and Draco were back up in their room. Draco was modelling the Cannons' strip for Harry, parading in the middle of the room and flexing his arms. Harry used his wand to lift the robe up, and saw that Draco was stiffly aroused. Draco came over to the bed, and once they had undressed each other, their bodies came together once again.

Before they became too engrossed however, there was a tapping sound at Harry's bedroom window. Harry had been worrying subconsciously about this since Hermione had written the day before and immediately extricated himself from Draco's clutches to let the owl in. Draco, lying on the bed, looked over at Harry, who obviously was still naked as he opened the window, fortunately it was dark outside so the neighbours wouldn't see. As Harry reached across the desk to open the window, Draco urged Harry, "Ooh - stretch a little further, and hold it!"

Harry looked at Draco, his body still outstretched over the desk, trying to let Draco know that it was no time to joke around, when he realised that he had done exactly what Draco had wanted. He could not help but smile at his boyfriend looking up at him. As Harry detached the letter from the owl's leg, he could not help sneaking a look at Draco s he sat up, and thinking, 'Mmm - that's all mine!!'

'Mmm' Draco agreed.

The letter, which was unsigned read:

Harry, Draco:

We need to see you at Headquarters tomorrow. Unfortunately we cannot spare anyone to collect you; it would cause too much disturbance anyway. Therefore it will be possible, between 0900 and 0902 tomorrow morning, for your to arrive here via the Floo Network. "Phoenix HQ" will get you to us. We also need to you bring your Aunt with you, Harry. Even though she is a Muggle, she will be able to operate the Floo. We're guessing you don't have any Floo powder, so if you check the owl's other leg, you will find a pouch with some in. See you tomorrow.

Draco, who had been reading over Harry's shoulder while he redressed himself, removed the pouch from the owl's leg, and checked the contents.

"There's plenty here," he told Harry, before closing the pouch and laying it on Harry's nightstand. He then pulled on a T shirt, and stood up, fully dressed.

"Get dressed," he suggested, "we need to go tell your Aunt that she's coming tomorrow."

"Yea," replied Harry gloomily. Even though he had not been looking forward to going to Grimmauld Place, because of Ron, he had at least thought that it would allow him some time away from the Dursleys. The fact that Aunt Petunia was coming made him completely dread the whole trip.

Once he was dressed, Harry stood up and grabbed the parchment. As soon as he left the room though, it caught fire. Harry started, then dropped the parchment on the carpet. Shit, he thought, as he already knew what his Uncle's reaction would be to a scorch mark in the carpet. The paper burned out, however, leaving absolutely no trace.

"She'll never believe us now," Harry complained, "not that she would have anyway, with the sole support of an unsigned letter." Draco grimaced, but insisted that they go tell her.

"We have to go anyway, and I don't think that Floo powder will work in that electric excuse they have downstairs. We'll need to make a fireplace, so she'll have to be on board."

Harry was too annoyed to point out that they did not need his cousins' permission to do magic, as they would all leave the room as soon as a wand was drawn, and followed Draco downstairs.

Aunt Petunia was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee with Uncle Vernon. She looked up as they walked in.

"Vernon?" said Aunt Petunia.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone sheet white, stood up and shakily left the room. The boys stared at Aunt Petunia, who invited them to sit down at the table with her.

"You got your owl, then?" she asked, sounding a little nervous.

"Yes," replied Draco.

"How did you know?" blurted Harry.

"I got one from your headmaster, Harry, when he arranged for you to come home for Christmas. He said that I would been to go someplace that you two could take me to."

"Why?" demanded Harry. Draco did not want to get involved in what could become a family argument, and remained silent, even though he thought that Harry was being a bit mean.

"They'll tell you tomorrow," she replied, more calmly, though Draco was sure that he detected a glint of excitement in her eye.

"Fine," said Harry, slamming his hands down on the table, and standing up so forcefully that the chair skittered away across the tiled floor and crashed into the counter, causing Aunt Petunia to wince.

"Harry, sit," said Draco, a little coldly. Harry was scowling, and looked very angry. It was not the first time he had felt that Dumbledore had cut him out of the loop. "Harry, stop scowling, you look most unattractive," he added, with a small smile.

Harry sat back down, not because he found Draco's charm irresistible, but because he was suddenly aware that he was making a scene.

"Now calm down a little," Draco continued, patting Harry paternally on the leg. As is always the case when someone says 'calm down', Harry got rather annoyed. Then seeing that Draco was making some attempt to wind him up, he did not change his facial expression but sat still feeling, oddly, more calm. Harry let Draco continue.

"We'll need to make a proper fireplace, so that we can get where we need to be. Harry and I can take care of that."

Aunt Petunia winced once again as she remembered how, two years previously, the Weasleys had obliterated her living room by trying to travel by Floo powder.

"O-OK," she agreed finally, "what time to we need to leave?"

"Nine o'clock, exactly," replied Harry, "else we'll miss it."

"Right - I think you should do what you need to do to the living room straight after dinner. Then we'll all go straight to bed after Christmas dinner, because I've a feeling it'll be a long day, tomorrow."

Harry figured that since Aunt Petunia had not even put the turkey into the oven, there was no point in waiting until after dinner to conjure the fireplace. Draco followed, slowly, as Harry strode into the room, drawing his wand. Dudley, who was in there watching television, screamed and left. Draco had to flatten himself to the wall to avoid being flattened to the floor by Dudley as he charged past in terror. Harry crouched in front of the fireplace, and as he manoeuvred his wand to remove the sealant around the electric fire, Aunt Petunia called dinner. Harry stood back up, his chin still on the floor. The wonderful smell of roast turkey, roast potatoes, carrots, turnips, peas, stuffing, all underlain with the watery musk of Brussels sprouts was wafting through the hatch in the wall between the kitchen and the dining room, the latter of which adjoined the living room. Uncle Vernon bustled into the room, completely blanking Harry and Draco, and removed a bottle of champagne from the cooler on the sideboard. When Dudley poked his head around the door, the prospect of a large meal outweighing his fear of what Harry and Draco may have been doing with their wands. Draco proceeded over to the hatch to take the food from Aunt Petunia, and laid it out on the heat-mats on the table.

"Oh you are helpful," cooed Aunt Petunia as she handed him the infamous sprouts.

"Yes, unlike him over there," put in Uncle Vernon, jerking his head over towards Harry, as he uncorked the champagne with a quiet hiss. Draco grimaced slightly, and Aunt Petunia saw. She winked back at him, and smiled sweetly. Right, thought Draco, shaking his head slightly as Harry watched, in mock disapproval. That had been practically the only thing that Uncle Vernon had said in the presence of the two boys since they had returned from school, and it transpired that it would be about the only thing he would say for the duration of their stay. He even passed the bottle of champagne round for people to help themselves, rather than serving Harry and Draco. The meal passed quite quickly. There was not usually very much conversation during a meal with the Dursleys, as Vernon and Dudley ate a lot, and Aunt Petunia sat watching her two men eat, rather than eat much herself.

It's a good job we don't need words any more, thought Harry to Draco.

Yea - you don't get told off for talking with your mouth full, came the reply.

Very funny, Harry thought, looking briefly at Draco, who smiled fleetingly.

I bet I know what could cheer you up, watch this, came the thought, from Draco to Harry. Before Harry had thought up his reply, Draco began fantasizing about Harry, while Harry could see, in Draco's mind's eye, what was 'happening'. It was quite strange, but as he saw all the things that Draco wanted to do, he began to feel quite turned on. At one point, he even choked a little on his roast potatoes, as it became lodged in his throat, just as something else got lodged in Draco's, in the fantasy. By the time the main meal was over, and Uncle Vernon was retrieving brandy to burn over the Christmas pudding which Aunt Petunia had gone to collect, Harry was feeling rather messed up in his head. The pair of them had gotten rather carried away, and Harry had shared with Draco a few of his own fantasies.

Once dinner was over and the table had been cleared, Uncle Vernon migrated from the dining room to his favourite armchair in the living room and settled down in front of the television. Dudley went upstairs to play on his computer, and Harry and Draco set about preparing the fireplace for the following morning. Once she had stacked the dishwasher, Aunt Petunia hovered behind Harry and Draco watching them work.

It did not take long for the two boys to remove the electric fire with which the Dursleys had plugged the real fireplace that had been there when they had bought the house. It had merely required unplugging and moving out of the way. The plug in the flue however, could not be removed without magic. Draco was wracking his brains trying to figure out a spell which could be used to remove the board non-destructively, and both of them knew that they could probably make it happen without any incantation or technique they had been taught at Hogwarts, though Harry decided that Uncle Vernon needed a small reminder of the fact that Harry was in the house, and he had been staunchly ignored by his uncle as much as possible since the beginning of the Christmas holidays.

"Reducto," Harry cried, blasting the plug right out of the top of the flue in several large pieces. A cloud of white powder-dust puffed out of the fireplace and blew into the room as the wind outside was allowed once more to blow down the chimney of the Dursleys' house.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, eh?" screamed Uncle Vernon. His face, which had gone white, rapidly flushed a deeper shade of purple than usual, as he strode across the room to confront Harry.

"I was removing the plug in the chimney, so that we all," he indicated himself, Draco and Aunt Petunia, "can travel through it tomorrow morning. We will fix it again once we get back tomorrow night."

"Damn right you will, boy," seethed Uncle Vernon, glaring into Harry's face before returning to his television show.

"It's OK," whispered Aunt Petunia maternally, touching Harry's arm. Harry looked up at her, turning up his nose and curling his lip slightly as her attitude. She quickly withdrew her hand, but smiled a little wider, scrunching her nose in what she assumed was a conspiratorial kind of way. Harry looked at Draco, his nose still upturned. They left the room.

"You looked a bit like me, just then," said Draco, once they were both back in Harry's room, behind the locked door. They had also taken the precaution of moving the bed right up against the door in case Aunt Petunia decided to check on them again.

"What?" asked Harry, a little distracted.

"When you sneered at your Aunt," Draco repeated, "you looked a little like me."

"You don't do that, do you," Harry asked, in mock surprise, with a joking smile.

"Course not," sneered Draco, curling his lip.

Harry had always loved the shape of Draco's mouth. The thin, red lips, which turned down at either end, had a kind of aristocratic, elegant shape to them, which always looked attractive. Even when he was sneering, and those lips were curled, the shape they made always betrayed a delicate innocence, or fragility which Harry had always noticed, even though he had not previously cared. Everyone knew that though Malfoy was insufferable, he was eminently attractive; the way he dressed, the sleek style of his semi-long, blonde hair, his perfect, unblemished skin.

There was no playfulness in that bed, that night, the pair of them had kissed goodnight, then the light had gone out and Harry had fallen straight to sleep. Draco knew that Harry was worried about the day that was to follow, and lay in the dark, watching Harry sleep by the light of the moon shining through the curtains. The rhythm of Draco's breathing was the same as Harry's as the boy lay on his side, propped up on his forearm, his elbow on the pillow, looking at Harry. Harry's chest was slowly rising and falling and his nostrils dilating ever so slightly as he breathed, the look of innocent peace the sleep always brings on his face, after the suppressed worry and stress that had been apparent on it all day, well except for, perhaps, most of dinner time! After about an hour, Draco decided it was time he got some sleep also.

---

The following morning, Harry awoke early. When he reached over Draco's sleeping body to find his watch on the nightstand, he saw that it was five thirty. He groaned slightly, but decided that he would never make it back to sleep, so he climbed delicately over Draco and started dressing himself. As he stood in the middle of the room, barely five minutes later, he found himself looking at Draco as he slept. He was beginning to notice, as Draco had the previous night, the innocence inherent in sleep, but he decided he did not have time to watch his boyfriend sleeping. He left the room quietly and went downstairs.

When he entered the kitchen, he found that Aunt Petunia was also up and about; she was sitting at the kitchen table, straightening the cutlery she had laid out fastidiously. She looked up quickly when she heard Harry enter the room. Harry noticed that she looked excited. There was a look on her face which made it seem more alive than usual, a slight widening of her eyes, which looked brighter than usual as a symptom of this. It was, however, unmistakeably, excitement. Harry could not see what there was to be excited about. Not this time. Ordinarily he would have been excited to be going to see his two best friends, but now he realised he was in a situation where he could potentially lose one of them. Harry carried, in the pit of his stomach, a terrible sense of foreboding as he ran through a whole array of scenarios in his head, mapping all of the difference reactions he thought Ron could have to Harry's news.

He looked away from Aunt Petunia and walked determinedly towards the larder. He hid behind the door momentarily as he selected his cereal from the shelf, then stared into his bowl as he poured cereal into it, then as he poured milk over the top. He watched the spoon as he fed himself half-heartedly. Determinedly not looking around the room, and especially not looking at Aunt Petunia. Looking at her face was impossible for him; the look on it made him sure that there was something going on that he was not party to, and this annoyed him. If it was anything to do with the Order, Dumbledore had promised him last year, as part of the truce that they had made over the summer, that he would not keep secrets from Harry, as far as was strategically possible for the Order. Harry could not see that anything to do with his Muggle family could be that sensitive, and the thought that Dumbledore was withholding information from him made him very angry.

Harry only realised that he was being very forceful with the spoon when it caught one of his front teeth. He was about to close his lips over the cereal, automatically as he had been up to that point, but this time he swore quietly, as a zinging sensation shot right up to the root of the tooth. Harry let the spoon fall back into the bowl, and pushed the bowl of half-eaten breakfast away. He then pushed his chair back from the table, and stared at the floor.

Harry and Aunt Petunia had been in the kitchen together for a full ten minutes without speaking to each other before Draco came in, looking immaculate as usual, and bade them both good morning.

"Good morning, Draco," said Aunt Petunia brightly, while Harry merely grunted and did not look up.

"Morning Harry," Draco repeated, leaning on the back of the chair next to Harry's, craning his neck downwards to that his face was on the point of looking up into Harry's. Harry raised his eyes from the floor, and looked tentatively into Draco's eyes, the expression on his face showing Draco all too clearly that he was not in the mood from pleasantries.

"You alright, Harry?" came the thought into his head. The 'tone' of the thought was not unlike that which Hermione used, verbally of course, when she was sure that something was up.

"Yeah, I'll be OK," he replied.

"You're still worried about Ron."

"Funny that," thought Harry, scowling fleetingly. Draco did not reply to that thought.

Draco had decided on a laissez-faire approach to dealing with Harry while he was evidently so worried. In actuality, Draco thought that Harry was being a little short with those who were trying to be understanding of his situation, namely himself and Hermione. He was still thinking about this at five to nine, as the three of them, Harry, Draco, and Aunt Petunia, knelt in front of the fireplace, ready to go.

While Harry had been upstairs, Draco had given Aunt Petunia a few pointers about travelling via the Floo network. It was the same talk that Harry had received from the Weasleys years ago. 'Keep your elbows tucked in', 'speak clearly', 'shut your eyes, else you'll get dizzy'.

Harry had come back downstairs, and was preparing the fire. He had toyed with the idea of blasting the fire into life from the doorway as he stormed back downstairs, but fortunately his common sense, for once, overrode his anger.

Harry knelt, and worked his wand. Aunt Petunia had been outside earlier in the morning and had fetched sticks and leaves for the fire. Harry had pointedly ignored them, and conjured fire straight into the dusty hearth with no fuel whatsoever. Aunt Petunia almost clapped. Harry glanced at his watch; two minutes to go.

"You got the Floo powder?" he asked Draco. These were the first words Harry had said all morning. The boy silently handed Harry the pouch the owl had brought. Harry undid the clasp, and opened the flap, exposing the powder.

"I'll go first, then her, then you," said Harry, indicating Aunt Petunia with a jerk of his head. He took a good pinch, and handed the pouch back to Draco. "See you in a minute," he said, before turning and casting the powder into the flames.

The blue hue of the flames turned brilliant emerald green as Harry removed his glasses, squatted, and manoeuvred himself into the fire. His thought, as he called, "Phoenix HQ," was that this was a lot easier at the Weasleys', where the fireplace was high enough to stand in. The last thing he saw, before he felt the all too familiar, nauseating spinning which was characteristic of Floo travel, was Aunt Petunia's wide eyes, as she saw Harry sitting quite happily in the flames, unassailed by their green tongues that licked his body. Aunt Petunia started slightly as Harry shot off, up the flue.

"After you, then," said Draco, politely, offering the pouch to Aunt Petunia. She nervously took a pinch and cast it into the flames, before gingerly crawling onto the hearth. Just as she sat in the flames, Uncle Vernon reached the bottom of the stairs, and saw his wife sitting in the fire, as that boy knelt in front.

"What the bloody hell..." he began, before abruptly falling silent as his wife disappeared. Draco caught sight of Uncle Vernon standing, framed, in the doorway, a mad look in his eye. He looked as if he were about to charge Draco down and rip him to shreds. His eyes widening in the beginnings of panic, Draco cast the last of the Floo powder into the fire behind him, drawing his wand in case he needed to defend himself against Harry's uncle. Uncle Vernon eyed the wand fearfully, as Draco sank, and began to back into the fire.

"Phoenix HQ," said Draco, his eyes still firmly on Uncle Vernon. He managed to flash a smile and a quick wave at the Muggle, before shooting off up the flue, leaving Uncle Vernon alone in the living room.

---

Wham! The whizzing sensation, which accompanies Floo travel, ended abruptly, and Harry was painfully aware that for the second time travelling via the Floo network, he had arrived at his destination face-first. Picking himself up, and moving out of the hearth to leave room for Aunt Petunia and Draco to arrive, and wondering dimly if the Reparo fixing charm would work on the black eye he could feel rising around his left eye, Harry heard someone calling his name across the room.

He had arrived right in the open entrance hall of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters in Grimmauld Place, and he could now see Hermione and Ron descending the stairs to his right. It was Hermione who had called his name. As she reached the bottom of the stairs she held out her arms to Harry, who hugged her briefly.

"Merry Christmas," he said, over her shoulder.

"You too," she replied.

They broke apart, and Harry's eyes met Ron's. It appeared the Ron was not going to say anything, and Harry opened his mouth to speak. At that point though, there were two whumph! sounds, as Aunt Petunia and Draco arrived, in quick succession in Grimmauld Place. Before he turned, Harry saw Ron's face fall, and felt a pang in his stomach.

Dusting himself off, Draco called over to Harry, "your uncle arrived in the living room just as she," he indicated Aunt Petunia, "left the house, so I had to follow really quick, I though he was going to charge me down..." he stopped talking.

"Shame he didn't," Hermione heard Ron breathe over her shoulder. She reversed her elbow into his stomach sharply, yet discretely, before Ron got the day off to a very bad start. Draco had spotted Ron and Hermione at the bottom of the stairs. He nodded over to Hermione, who looked slightly warmer than Ron, though both of them had suddenly gotten rather stiff. They were saved the forced pleasantries, however, as Mrs Weasley entered the hall from the dining room, where an Order meeting had evidently just finished, as she was followed in rapid succession by Mr Weasley, and Professors Dumbledore and Snape.

"Harry, dear," beamed Mrs Weasley, seizing him and drawing him into a tight, motherly hug. "Couldn't you have done a little better than that, dear?" she whispered in his ear, as she spied Draco, over Harry's shoulder. Harry grinned at her, sheepishly, as she released him; he sensed that she was joking him.

"Hello, Harry," said Mr Weasley, shaking his hand tightly, "how're the Muggles? Did you have to move that pretend fire again? I was thinking, after our previous visit, I wonder if Floo powder would actually work on an eclectric fire..." he was cut short by a sharp jab in the side from one of Mrs Weasley's elbows. Harry thought momentarily that Ron's reaction to Hermione's elbow was extremely similar to Mr Weasley's reaction to his wife's. His thoughts were cut short, also though, by Dumbledore. Everyone fell suddenly silent as Dumbledore swept Aunt Petunia out of the room, having not said a word to anyone else. Mrs Weasley had stoutly ignored the presence of the Muggle, though Harry had noticed Mr Weasley looking over his shoulder as he had been speaking about the Dursleys' fireplace, at Aunt Petunia, who had been standing behind Harry, still over by the hearth. Suddenly there was a clattering on the stairs. Ginny ran halfway down the stairs, hollering Ron.

"Ron, the wand-guy, Ollivander, needs help carrying some stuff, and there's too many for me..." she, also, stopped short. She had seen Harry. Harry looked up at her, and smiled. Her cheeks tinged with pink, but that was nothing to how red they went when Harry saw her eyes flick across the room and her gaze land on Draco. When she saw him, her face went bright red, and she ran back upstairs, Ron following her resignedly to fetch whatever it was the Ginny wanted help with. Moments later the old man with wispy hair whom everyone knew as Mr Ollivander, Diagon Alley wand retailer, started down the stairs his arms laden with as many of his trademark long, thin boxes, each of which contained a lovingly handcrafted magic wand. Ron followed shortly behind, similarly laden, and Ginny followed him. They processed into the room into which Dumbledore had led Aunt Petunia.

"This I've got to see," said Mrs Weasley, her nostrils flaring at the notion of a Muggle attempting to operate a wand, and followed Ginny into the room. Ron and Ginny, however, left the room before the door was closed after them.

"I, err, suppose you all would like some time to catch up, a bit?" asked Mr Weasley. He headed off towards the kitchen and Snape followed him silently. Snape's eyes had been firmly fixed on Draco ever since he had entered the room, and they left only when Snape no longer could look at him, as he passed through the kitchen door, then shut it with a snap.

"Shall we go upstairs, then?" Hermione asked, brightly.

"Yea, I s'pose," said Ron, heavily, leading the way upstairs to a dingy room with a double-four-poster bed in the middle. He stood by the door as Harry, Draco and Hermione filed into the room, but shut it before Ginny entered. Hermione caught Ron's eye, and gave him a slightly reproachful look, but did not say anything about the way he had just shunned Ginny. She knew that Ginny would understand, but thought that Ron could have been a bit nicer in that way he had handled the situation.

Harry and Draco sat, side by side, on the pillows at the head of the bed, cross legged, and leaning on the headboard. Hermione was sat at the bottom of the bed, leaning against one of the posts, and Ron took his position leaned against the other. Several minutes of tense silence followed. Harry knew that this was not good, and did not bode well for the discussions which everyone knew would have to follow.

"So," said Ron, finally. It was uncharacteristic of Ron to be the first to break this kind of silence, so nobody said anything in response to this. "So," he continued, "you two," he waving his finger at Harry and Draco, carefully avoiding everyone's eyes, "you're together, then." It was not really a question, more a statement.

"Yes," replied Harry, simply, looking concernedly at him.

"So after all those years of hate, and ... rivalry, and ..." Ron searched his brain for words to describe the direness of Harry and Draco's relationship before this year, but could not find any more words, "after all those years, you're going out?" Ron's voice inflected horribly, unnaturally upwards as he finished his question.

"Yes," said Harry, again.

"Yeah, we were thinking about that, in bed, the other night, weren't we Harry," said Draco, in a relaxed, conversational kind of drawl, looking all the time at Ron.

Ron's hand went to his chin, and he held it firmly, his jaw trembling, and expression squirming as he struggled to comprehend what he was in front of him.

'Careful, Draco,' thought Harry, causing Draco to look straight into his eye, pretending to be hurt.

Ron stood. He took one last look at Harry and Draco, sitting by each other on the bed, before he quickly left the room with no further words. Harry looked at Hermione, who looked at him with a 'well-it-could-have-gone-worse-don't-give-up-yet' kind of expression on her face. Harry's shoulders fell, and he slumped his leg over the side of the mattress, staring at the floor. Draco leaned over to him, and placed his hand on Harry's back.

"We'll bring him around," he promised, "I'll stop being immature about this, and we'll show Ron that we love each other, and that its not going to have any detrimental effect on your existing relationship."

Hermione looked at the pair of them; one of her best friends, and someone who until recently had been one of her least favourite people in the world, the latter showing such affection and concern for Harry that Hermione almost felt a tear rise the corner of her eye.

"I'll go check on Ron," she said, and quickly left the room, her eyes a little red.

Outside the door, Hermione found Ginny, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and looking a little surprised when Hermione came out of the doorway.

"Oh," she said, with a small start. "I thought that you'd all be in there for hours talking about, you know. Is Harry and, err, Draco coming out any time soon?" She went quite red again.

"What?" asked Hermione, quizzically; Ginny knew exactly what Hermione was on about, and turned ever redder.

Ginny wrung her hands, excitedly. Hermione continued to look at her, rather amused, and with a fair idea of what Ginny was about to say.

"Well, you know I've always had a, ... a thing for Harry," she began.

"Yes," said Hermione, "you really don't hide it very well," she added, smiling at Ginny.

"Well - those two have got to be about the two best-looking guys Hogwarts has ever seen," she squeaked, "and together, they have to be the hottest couple ever!!" At that point, Harry and Draco opened the door, and saw Hermione still standing right outside the door. Draco stood with his head over Harry's shoulder, his chin all but resting on it, as they both looked down at Ginny, who was now sitting on the floor, her knees drawn right up to her chin as she squeezed them in excitement. She looked up and saw the two of them, snatched a deep breath, then gulped and turned even redder, before fleeing back down the corridor.