Immortalitas Aestas

Harry was feeling very odd.

He was lightheaded from the heat and lack of sleep, and he was horribly confused.

Draco Malfoy had been nice to him. Draco Malfoy had touched him.

Harry couldn't remember one instance in the past seven years when he'd touched Malfoy, or vice versa, in anything other than anger and contempt.

Until today.

He wasn't sure what had made him accept Malfoy's offer of help in the Potions room, especially considering all their past animosity. He supposed he could blame the momentary lapse on the heat. But he didn't think that was the true reason.

And if Harry couldn't explain why he'd let Draco touch his potion, he had no hope of explaining what had happened when their hands had touched.

It had felt like a bolt of lightning had hit him the second Draco's fingers brushed his. He'd looked up in shock, only to see the same expression mirrored briefly in his rival's silver gaze, before being hidden behind the usual mask. Harry had hurriedly dropped his eyes back to the tabletop, hoping Malfoy hadn't seen how much that one touch had unnerved him.

His hand was still tingling, and Potions class had been over for an hour. Harry knew a little of it probably had to do with his innate magic; after all, Draco was a very powerful wizard. But he wasn't naïve enough to believe that was the only reason for his reaction.

He was distracted from his thoughts by an elbow in his ribs. Glancing up, he turned to see Hermione frowning at him.

"What?" he whispered. They were currently sitting in History of Magic and Binns had been droning on about the thirty-second Goblin War for the past forty-five minutes.

Hermione sighed, nudging Harry's quill towards him, which he'd dropped without realizing. "Take notes, Harry," she whispered back. "This topic is sure to be on our N.E.W.T.'s."

Harry obliged, picked up his quill and tried to listen to Binns. The professor was currently talking about Olgred the Fourth who had apparently dishonored his King by stealing someone's lettuce.

Harry rolled his eyes. After a while all the Goblin Wars seemed to blur together. There was very little difference between them and Harry found them all ridiculously stupid.

Looking to his left, Harry saw Ron drawing in the margins of his parchment. He apparently wasn't the only one who found Goblin Wars incredibly boring.

He raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing his scar. It had become horribly sensitive as of late, most likely due to the fact that Voldemort had been very busy wreaking death and destruction on unsuspecting Muggles. His scar had never really overly bothered him before, but was becoming more and more uncomfortable as the days went by.

Finally Binns dismissed the class. Harry gathered up his things quickly, wanting to get out of the stiflingly hot classroom. Someone tapped him on the shoulder; turning around, Harry found himself face to face with Parvati Patil.

"Are we practicing today?" she asked, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. She was a chaser on the Quidditch team and, surprising everyone who had assumed she was too into her looks, clothes and cosmetic charms to be interested in a rough sport like Quidditch, was actually quite good.

Harry sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a huge headache coming on.

"I don't think so, Parvati," he finally replied, "it's too hot to really practice and we just met yesterday to go over strategies. I don't think we really need it."

A look of relief flooded the pretty Gryffindor's face. "Oh, thanks Harry. I'm not sure I could fly, to be honest. I just feel so worn out."

She turned, shaking her head "no" at Lavender Brown, who smiled and nodded at Harry.

Harry watched them walk out of the room, silently agreeing with her. He wasn't sure how much flying he'd be able to do either.

Leaving the classroom, Harry headed towards Gryffindor Tower, wanting to drop his things off before heading back outside to find some shade. He also figured he should let the other members of the Quidditch team know they weren't going to be practicing today.

He wanted some time to himself; he had some things he needed to think over. Dumbledore, Voldemort, Death Eaters, visions ... Draco.

He really needed to think about Draco.

***

The war against Voldemort wasn't exactly a war. Fudge was calling it various names: "Covert Missions Against Darkness", "Mission of Light", "The Order Strikes Back" - but never a war.

He still refused to publicly admit that Voldemort was back.

Of course, the Wizarding World wasn't stupid. One could only see the Dark Mark in the sky so many times before realizing the truth; Voldemort was back and more powerful than ever.

All of the students at Hogwarts were being taught Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts in preparation for the impending battle. Dumbledore had, despite numerous protests from the likes of Lucius Malfoy, brought back Remus Lupin to teach the class. He, along with Sirius, was teaching the students all he knew.

While the lower years' educations were focusing on defense, the fifth through seventh years were getting a more offensive approach. Their Defense classes were focused on counter curses and shielding spells. Potions class was consisting of healing and rejuvenating potions. All sixth and seventh year students were being taught to Apparate. Those who showed signs of Animagi ability were being taught the Animagus transformation. Any charm, spell, or potion that could be of any use to the students was being taught.

Hogwarts was still considered the safest place to be. The protection spells around it were the strongest ever created. It only made sense that the resistance would be housed there.

The resistance was interesting. There was the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Dumbledore. All of the staff and several Ministry officials (Arthur Weasley, for one) were a part of it. There were several operatives in the Order- they went out on missions, trying to collect information on Voldemort and his followers. They no longer had anyone on the inside; Snape had been discovered the previous year and had barely escaped with his life. Oddly enough it had been Sirius who'd saved him; neither he nor Snape knew to this day exactly what to do with that knowledge.

Another part of the resistance was the Adversarius Malus, or Resistance to the Dark. This group was made up of students. There were four from each house, Slytherin included. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, however, before they were accepted. Draco had actually taken a dose of Veritaserum in front of the other Adversarius members to prove their sincerity. He still smarted a bit from that session.

Each member had been chosen for their strength in a specific skill. The Adversarius was led by Lupin, but the highest-ranking members were Head Girl Hermione Granger, who was a Potions expert, and the Boy-Who-Lived himself, Harry Potter. Draco had quickly realized that the Boy Wonder was exactly that - a wonder. He was, it seemed, good at everything. Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown were the other two Gryffindors; both were exceptional at Charms.

Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Tracey Davis were the other Slytherins. Pansy was a Seer; her skills at Divination were unmatched. Blaise and Tracey's true strength was in Defense. Hannah Abbot, Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, and Justin Finch-Fletchley were the Hufflepuffs; Hannah was very good at Transfiguration, Ernie's talents were in Herbology, and Susan and Justin were experts at Arithmancy, which was invaluable for strategizing.

Head Boy Terry Boot, Padma Patil, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Morag MacDougal made up the Ravenclaws. Terry and Padma were naturals when it came to working with magical creatures; they'd trained several Hippogriffs and were training with Charlie Weasley to learn about Dragons. Mandy was another Seer, although she wasn't quite as accurate as Pansy simply because she hadn't had the formal training that the Slytherin had had. Morag's strength was Astronomy; Draco hadn't been sure why they'd needed her in the group, but the girl's record spoke for itself. Morag had been able to determine the exact nights that the Death Eaters were going to attack just by looking at the stars.

Draco wasn't sure how she'd accomplished that exactly, but just figured that he didn't need to know. Of course, she hadn't been able to determine where Voldemort was going to attack, just when. Morag had said that it was up to the Seers to determine the where.

Draco wasn't sure how he'd accomplished that exactly, but just figured that he didn't need to know. Of course, he hadn't been able to determine where Voldemort was going to attack, just when. Morag had said that it was up to the Seers to determine the where.

The sixteen members were the strongest witches and wizards in Hogwarts. There were several Muggleborns in the Adversarius; Draco had had to swallow his pride and admit that they were very good.

Draco's own strength was Potions; he'd yet to find one he couldn't brew.

Looking around the Slytherin Common Room, he saw several seventh years engrossed in books.

While Granger and the Ravenclaws were busy poring over the books in the library, the Slytherins were being more practical. They knew that if Voldemort was the one causing the extreme heat, the spell most likely was not going to be found in any of the books on the shelves of the Hogwarts library.

All of the Slytherin seventh years had trained quite extensively in the Dark Arts. Since they couldn't openly practice dark curses while at school, their education had been supplemented with books. Between the nine of them, they owned over two hundred books on the Dark Arts, and it was in these books that they searched.

They had not, however, found anything, and Draco was getting frustrated.

Draco had not spoken to his father since May of his sixth year. Lucius had sent his son a letter, telling him that he would be taking the Dark Mark as soon as he returned home from school. He would serve the Dark Lord and work to rid the world of all the stupid Muggles, idiotic Mudbloods and one Harry Potter.

Draco had promptly written back, telling his father exactly where he could put his Dark Mark, and gone to Dumbledore, asking for asylum. That very day, Narcissa Malfoy had arrived at Hogwarts with the rest of Draco's belongings. She, too, asked for asylum, and both she and Draco had spent the summer at the school.

And they weren't the only ones. Servitude had not seemed like the ideal lifestyle for any of Draco's Slytherin yearmates. They had all remained at Hogwarts, under the protection of Albus Dumbledore.

Narcissa had become an invaluable member of the Order. She knew the workings of the Death Eaters and understood their mindset. She also was never seen without one Sirius Black; he seemed to have attached himself to her, growling if anyone got too close. Draco imagined that they'd end up married once the war was over- providing Lucius would give her a divorce- or maybe they wouldn't have to worry about that if he didn't survive ... but Draco didn't want to travel too far down that line of thought.

Draco sighed, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted and very hot. The common room was slightly cool, mostly due to the fact that they were underground, but Draco had yet to cool down after spending most of the day in the ridiculously hot classrooms.

He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. His mind, however, was far from tired.

Unbidden, images of Potter erupted in his head. One of the reasons that Draco had refused to go home and serve the Dark Lord was Harry. He'd realized in January of his Sixth year that he was attracted to the dark-haired Gryffindor. Even though (and in hindsight Draco felt it was also probably because) he had resisted these thoughts, his feelings had only grown, becoming much more than attraction. There was no way that Draco could ever serve the person who had caused such devastation in Harry's life, and certainly would not have a hand in his destruction.

Draco sighed again, rubbing his hands over his face. He cared about Harry. He wanted to find a way to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

He hadn't fought with Harry at all this year, and had been pleasantly surprised when Harry had stood up for him in the Adversarius meeting when Draco had been under the influence of the Veritaserum. He hadn't allowed Granger to ask him any questions that weren't strictly necessary, and had stopped Weasley from asking him anything too personal. Harry himself had asked all the questions. Draco could remember it quite clearly, and the memory seemed to pop up without warning.

"Are you spying for Voldemort?" Harry had asked him.

"No," Draco had replied, keeping his gaze locked with Harry's.

"Why didn't you join him?" had been the next question, asked so quietly Draco had had to strain to hear him.

"Because I don't believe in the same things he does," had been Draco's equally quiet reply.

Harry had held his gaze for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair. He'd folded his hands on the tabletop and was silent for a moment.

"This isn't a trick, right? You're really going to help us? You'll do whatever we say?" he'd finally asked, voice serious, but just as soft, and with a note of genuine curiosity.

"I'll do anything you ask of me," had been Draco's reply, and he realized that he would still answer it the same way now. He'd do anything for Harry, anything at all.

The rest of the occupants in the meeting had been stunned into silence. Harry had blinked at Draco's response, before saying, "Thank you".

Draco stood up then, shaking his head to clear away the memories. He gathered up the books he'd been sifting through and headed over to where Pansy and Tracey were sitting. Pansy's nose was stuck in Intutus Defixus. She was currently reading a section on transfiguring humans into Hippogriffs.

"Have you found anything?" he asked Pansy, adding his books to the pile in front of Tracey.

"No, nothing that's of any use," was the reply, as she turned the page. "You wouldn't believe some of these spells, Draco. They're quite nasty."

"Hmm," Draco responded noncommittally, reading over her shoulder. "Why in Heaven's name would you want to turn yourself into a pine tree?"

"Well, I suppose it would be difficult for someone to attack you if you were a pine tree," Tracey spoke up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Of course, you could still be struck by lightning. I wonder what would happen if you were on fire? And how do you suppose you'd turn yourself back? I'm sure it would be difficult to use your wand if you were still a tree."

The three Slytherins sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the question.

"I'm not sure," Pansy finally said. "I mean, trees don't die in fires, they just grow back. So, I guess you wouldn't die either if you were a tree. As for using your wand, I wouldn't think you'd be able to. So, I think you'd be st--"

"We've gotten horribly off track," Draco cut in, wanting to put an end to the subject he himself had brought up. "We need to find out what's causing this heat. And we need to do it fast. I'm not sure how much longer I can handle not being able to sleep."

The girls nodded in agreement, turning back to their books. Draco looked at his watch, and decided to head outside. Gryffindor was supposed to have Quidditch practice, but he imagined that they wouldn't be flying with this weather. The Slytherin team hadn't had an actual practice since last Thursday; it was simply too hot to stay upright on your broom. Draco walked outside and was instantly blinded by the sun. He blinked and raised a hand to shield his eyes, looking for Harry. Not seeing him, he decided to walk towards the Forbidden Forest, searching for some shade. He'd only been outside for a minute and he was already sweating.

Strolling lazily along, he saw several students sitting in the shade, working on homework. He passed Granger and Finnigan, who were practically sitting on top of each other. Apparently someone had done something to get them together. He continued on his journey, passing Boot and the Ravenclaw Patil twin, who were both reading from books taken from the Hogwarts library.

"Anything?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"No," Terry replied, shaking his head for emphasis. "We've looked everywhere."

"I'm not sure there are many books left in the library that we haven't checked," Padma said softly.

Draco nodded, moving on in his search for Potter.

He passed a few sixth years, Ginny Weasley among them, before finding his target. Harry was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, elbows resting on them, head in his hands. His back was against a maple tree, books in a neat pile next to him, quill and ink sitting on top of them. Draco stayed in the shadows a while, just content to watch him.

Harry sighed deeply, lifting his head to rub at his scar. His green eyes opened and recognition crossed his face as he saw Draco.

"Malfoy," he said softly, dropping his elbows off his knees. "What are you doing out here?"

There was no suspicion in the question, just simple curiosity.

"I was just walking around," Draco replied, taking a few steps to bring him closer to the dark-haired boy. "I decided to find a place to sit for a while. But, since you're here, I can go find somewhere else."

"Don't be silly," Harry said, moving his pile of books to his other side. "You can sit here if you want. I don't bite."

Draco closed the distance between them, dropping down next to Harry. "You do too bite," he replied, remembering an instance in sixth year when Harry had, indeed, taken a bite out of him.

Harry smiled softly, remembering. "Ah, well, I don't bite that often then."

Draco didn't say anything, content to just sit next to the object of his affections for a while. He turned his head to look at him.

Harry looked even worse up close. His face was drawn and the circles under his eyes could be easily mistaken for bruises. He looked absolutely exhausted and Draco wished there were something he could do to help.

"You're not sleeping well," Draco said, turning his whole body to face Harry's. It wasn't a question; Draco knew it was true.

"No," came the soft reply. "I'm not."

"Why?" Draco asked, unable to help himself. Maybe there was something he could do.

Harry turned to him then, tilting his head to the side. "Too hot," he said, a small smile on his face. "I can't sleep in the heat."

"Neither can I," Draco responded softly, reaching out to pull a leaf out of Harry's hair.

"Yes, you look tired as well," Harry said, closing his eyes from just a second as Draco's hand made contact with his hair.

"Tired isn't exactly the word I'd use," Draco said dryly, flicking the leaf into the air and bringing his hand back to his lap. "It's more an eternal exhaustion."

"Mine, too," Harry said softly, closing his eyes again as a slight breeze blew through the trees. "Mine, too."

Draco knew that there was something that Harry wasn't telling him; the heat could not be the only reason to why he wasn't sleeping. However, he wasn't going to push him. He pulled his knees up to his chest in a mirror image of Harry and rested his head on them.

Neither boy said anything, simply watching the sun move across the sky.