A Life More Ordinary

Great Hall, Hogwarts--September 2, 1992

"Harry, aren't you finished yet?"

Harry looked up and then frowned when a drop of ink splashed from his quill and blotted out part of the first paragraph he'd written.

Hermione sighed and with a small swish of her wand and an impatient spell, the blotch disappeared.

"Thanks..."

"We have Defense first this morning," Hermione said in response to Harry's gratitude.

"I know, I know."

"Jusht let him finwhish hish lettah, Hermimee," Ron said through a mouthful of toast and pumpkin preserves. "We shtill have ten-" He finally swallowed the toast, "-minutes."

Hermione frowned at Ron as he slathered another slice of toast. "Can't you eat like a person, rather than a starved animal?"

"Nope."

Hermione made a face.

"I'm nearly finished," Harry assured her before she could start in on him again. He signed his name quickly to the end of the letter and attached it to Hedwig's leg, who, unlike Hermione, had been waiting patiently. "Thanks, girl," he said quietly and brushed his fingers down her soft back. Hedwig hooted in response, accepted her fourth piece of bacon and took off.

"Where's Draco?" Neville asked as all of them began gathering up their belongings. "He said he'd meet us down here, didn't he?"

Harry glanced up the enchanted staircase as they trooped out of the Great Hall. Draco had said very little when they'd woken up and he'd waved the rest of them on to breakfast, even though he'd been fully dressed before all of them.

Draco wasn't in the D.A.D.A. classroom when they arrived. And neither was Lockhart. Though the classroom was filled with portraits of the wavy-haired teacher.

"Where do you think he is?" Ron asked as he took out Lockhart's towering stack of books.

Harry took out his own and shrugged. "Lockhart or Draco?"

"How long do you think we have to wait before we can skive off?" Seamus wondered. Ron grinned, but his excitement came too soon. The office door flew open and there Lockhart stood, framed in the rectangular opening, the sconces behind making him look like he was glowing. There was a collective sigh and Harry's eyes darted around to see all the girls--even Hermione--gazing up at the professor with dazed eyes.

"Get a load of him," Ron muttered and the other boys murmured their agreement, all of them making faces as Lockhart swept his velvet lilac robes out of the way and glided down the stairs.

"As you no doubt know by now," he said with a gleaming smile as he took center stage at the front of the room, "I am Gilderoy Lockhart, famed explorer and expunger of dark creatures."

"Expunger?" Seamus said with a low guffaw but Lockhart seemed not to notice he'd spoken.

"I have travelled the world and lived to tell about it," he said grandly. His smile flashed again and the girls all sighed again. "And this year," Lockhart continued on, "I will teach you to be more like me."

"Do you think he's gonna teach us the charm to make his hair swoosh like that?" Ron whispered and then oomphed indignantly as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hush," she scolded. Ron glowered at her but Hermione's attention was already back on the professor, who was explaining that they were going to have a surprise quiz on the reading material.

"We were supposed to read already?" Neville asked, glancing around with worried eyes.

Harry had already read the assigned book, Magical Me, but even so he was unprepared for the questions Lockhart handed him.

"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?" Ron mouthed.

"Who cares?" Dean mouthed back.

Harry goggled at the list of questions that had nothing at all to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts. He watched Hermione scribbling in answers as if the book was right in front of her and gave up all hope of passing this particular quiz.

"Draco must have heard about this," Ron mumbled under his breath. "This guy's even worse than Emmettweller."

"The twins'll have loads of fun this year," Harry snorted.

"No talking during a quiz, Mr.-" Lockhart leaned in and immediately his eyes widened. "Mr. Potter! Well, my schedule said you'd be in this class, of course, but I suppose I expected you to be... well, a bit more of a standout." He showed his teeth. "A bit more like me!"

Harry didn't know what to say to that, though he was pretty sure the professor was insulting him. But in the next instant, Lockhart was gesturing him to stand.

"Never mind your quiz now, Harry," he said cheerfully. "Come stand up here and we'll take a few photos, shall we? Harry Potter, an eager student of the famed Vampire-slayer Gilderoy Lockhart. Has quite the ring to it, don't you think?"

"Er..."

Lockhart put an arm round his shoulders and all but dragged him up to the raised dais where he turned Harry this way and that and shouted, "Smile, Harry!" while a camera with wings to match Lockhart's garish velvet robes snapped at least a dozen pictures.

Harry stumbled back to his desk a few minutes later, half-blind from the camera's flash and someone grabbed his arms before he landed arse-up on the floor. He blinked dazedly as Lockhart prattled on about something or other and then realized it was Draco who had stopped his fall.

"When did you get here?"

"Just now," Draco said and turned back to listen to Lockhart detailing the programme for the class this term.

"Definitely worse than Emmettweller," Harry said but got no reaction from Draco save a faint smile.

"What were you doing Draco?" Seamus asked with a smirk and a nudge for Draco's arm. "Taking a swim in the lake?"

Draco's gaze flicked over to Seamus, looking surprised to see him sitting there. "Beg pardon?"

"Yeah, else you stepped in an awfully big puddle." Dean rolled his eyes. "Your shoe is soggy... it's dripping."

Draco--and Harry--looked down and indeed, water was falling from Draco's laces in a lazy trickle. Draco yanked his shoe out of sight and scowled. "We should be paying attention," he snapped and while the other boys stared at him in surprise, he raised his hand and asked for a quiz, which a beaming Lockhart happily provided. Draco bent his head to his work and didn't speak again.

--

Sirius looked up from the sock he was tugging on when Remus emerged from the shower; he offered a smile. "Another day with the deadline?"

"Until lunch," Remus said, nodding as he crossed to the bureau; his own answering smile was perfunctory. "And then I have a meeting with Nathan."

Sirius' gaze traveled over Remus' bare back, his heart aching a little over each of the scars decorating the otherwise smooth skin. "How are you feeling?" Sirius asked quietly; it was only eight days until the full moon.

"Just a bit more tired than usual." Remus slipped a shirt on and the evidence was hidden. "I think I'll work in Nathan's office this afternoon," he said as he chose a pair of pressed trousers.

Stung, Sirius said nothing; Remus almost never resorted to the absolute solitude of Nathan's sanctuary.

"I'll try to be home for dinner," Remus added, his hands occupied with his buttons, his gaze on his fingers. "Unless..." Remus softly cleared his throat, "... you'll still be at Ollivander's."

Sirius' jaw worked for a moment. "Do you want me to be?"

Remus turned, his sandy eyebrows drawn together. "Of course not."

"Hiding at Nathan's is for my sake then?"

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair; it was already beginning to lengthen as it always did in the week before the full moon. "I'm sorry," he said heavily. "I don't know why I said all those things."

Sirius twisted on the rumpled bedcovers, making room for his husband and after just a second, Remus sat. "You were right," Sirius said, "though I didn't mean to undermine you or make it seem as though Harry and I were teaming up against you. Harry was so upset and I just acted instinctively."

"I know..." Remus' fingers twitched restlessly against his trousers. "That isn't what I meant though. You've never interfered in my relationship with Harry; quite the opposite. It was a stupid thing to say. I just wish..." Remus shook his head, swallowing over the regrets.

Sirius took his hand, squeezing it lightly. "I know." It sounded hollow, but what else could he offer?

Remus finally met Sirius' gaze; sighed again. "If Harry didn't take the map or the cloak-"

"We'd best find out why they are following Harry around," Sirius finished with a frown. "I've thought about it all night. But..."

"You don't think that's a bit far-fetched?" Remus' tone was tinged with worry and Sirius was relieved by that.

"For the map, perhaps," he said with a reluctant nod. "But that cloak belongs to Harry; it's his inheritance. It sounds unlikely I know, but what other explanation is there?"

Remus shook his head and asked, "You checked to see if they're still in the cupboard?"

Sirius nodded; he'd checked while Remus was in the shower, anticipating this question. "Yes, and they are."

Remus pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And you're absolutely certain that Harry was telling the truth?"

Sirius thought back to his godson's face--his insistence that he hadn't taken anything. And his willingness to allow Sirius to question his friends. And mostly his distress that he wouldn't be believed. "Yes," he said firmly. "Absolutely certain."

For answer, Remus sighed.

--

"He's written dozens of books, Harry," Hermione scolded as she and Harry maneuvered around Madame Prince and the giant stack of books she was guiding with her wand.

"I didn't say he didn't write them," Harry said, and then ducked below the teetering books. Hermione grabbed his arm and yanked him away just as one tumbled down, narrowly missing Harry's head. "Thanks. Just that he didn't actually slay that vampire."

"But that's ridiculous. No one would write an entire book of lies."

"Maybe someone would. And some books don't tell you the whole truth." Hermione looked skeptical so Harry reminded her, "Hogwarts: A History didn't say anything about house-elves, did it?"

Hermione immediately frowned. "That's right; it didn't." She finally shook her head though. "But that doesn't mean Professor Lockhart made up his entire life's work."

Harry just shrugged. "Well, that's what Remus and Sirius said."

Hermione pursed her lips as she looked around for a ladder to reach the book she needed. She didn't comment on his eavesdropping but he could see she wanted to. "Where is the ladder?" she muttered.

Harry sighed and pulled his wand out. "Accio Who Am I?." Lockhart's novel flew from the highest shelf and into Harry's outstretched hand. He made a face. "I can't believe you want to read this."

Harry handed the book to her, but she was too busy gaping at him to take it. "When did you learn to do a Summoning Charm?"

"Sirius showed me this summer," he said with a grin.

"But, we aren't scheduled to learn summoning charms until fourth year..."

"Yeah, but doesn't mean we can't learn them sooner, does it? Sirius taught me the Shield Charm too, remember?"

"Well, yes but..."

"You can learn it too if you want," Harry assured her. "Here, I'll show you how to do it."

"Show me?" Hermione shook her head, her brown eyes wide. "Oh no, Harry, I'll find a book. I think the fourth year Charms' text has the instructions-"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "you don't need to read the instructions in a book. I already know how to do it."

Hermione gestured vaguely. "But the book will have illustrations to follow; so that I'll know exactly how to use my wand."

"Yeah," Harry said with exaggerated slowness. "Or... I could show you exactly how to use your wand."

She looked around the library, filled to the ceilings with tomes--all of them apparently disapproving. "Without a book?"

Harry's lips twitched. "Yeah."

Hermione chewed her lip while she vacillated, but finally consented. It had taken Harry four tries to get it right, but after only two, Hermione was holding the fourth year Charms text in her hand. They grinned at each other. "Do you want to see what other charms we can learn?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining now with excitement.

So, she and Harry settled down at one of the tables. They were just perfecting a Banishing Charm when Ron plopped down beside Harry with a scowl.

"There you are," Hermione said, setting her wand carefully on the table. "Where were you?"

Ron let his bag fall onto the table with a heavy thump. "The girl's toilet on the second floor flooded. A river in the middle of the corridor!"

Madame Pince shushed him and Ron slumped in his chair.

"My shoes and socks were soaked," he complained in a quieter voice. "And Filch was shouting at everybody to stop walking through and Mrs. Norris was hissing. McGonagall finally came." He waggled his perfectly dry feet. "She dried them for me."

"Moaning Myrtle probably flooded it again," Hermione said with a sigh. She took out a parchment from her schoolbag; ready to move on to the homework they'd gathered to complete.

"How many feet did Binns assign?" Ron asked as he rooted around for his own parchment.

"Eleven inches."

"Oh, good. Short."

Hermione frowned and bent her head to her work. Harry thumbed through the Charms text for awhile longer, uninterested in the history of Gringotts essay; he wished they would get to spend more time on the history of wand making instead.

"Be right back," he said, deciding to see if there were any books here on the subject that Ollivander didn't have, though it seemed unlikely. Ron was doodling on the top of his parchment but he flapped a hand in answer; Hermione didn't respond.

Madame Pince told him with sour lips to try the shelf of apprenticeship manuals, which were in a dusty old corner at the back of the vast library.

His finger removed a thick layer of dust along the row of alphabetically-ordered spines on the bottom shelf. "Auror... Broom Maker, Curse-Breaker... Dragon Keeper..." But before he'd even made it to Healer, a low sound--as quiet as a whisper--made him straighten up.

But he couldn't make out any words in the nearly silent murmurs. He looked around, finding himself alone. He stilled and strained to hear. "... Blood," the murmurs told him. Harry's brows drew together. Who would be talking about blood in a library? He listened again but the whispered susurration faded away.

Deciding that he'd heard wrong, and after all the library was scattered with students, Harry bent down and continued down the row of books until he found the one about wand makers. He opened to the first page and was already engrossed by the time he made it back to Hermione and Ron.

--

Hedwig hooted softly at the back window. Brightening, Sirius spelled the window open and the white owl swooped in. She landed gracefully on the back of one of the chairs and stuck out her leg. Sirius untied the scroll with one hand and fed her a treat with the other. She swallowed it quickly and nibbled his fingers with affection. She hooted once more and went to the bowl of water they kept on the counter for her.

Remus was staring at the parchment in Sirius' hand. Some of the tension left his face as Sirius handed it over. The ribbon was dispatched quickly but as soon as Remus opened it, his lips pressed tightly together.

"What's the matter?" Sirius asked, his anxiety ratcheting up several notches. Remus held the letter out.

"It's for you."

Confused, Sirius took the letter. In Harry's messy scrawl, 'Dear Sirius' was the salutation. Not 'Dear Sirius and Remus', as a letter from Harry always began. Sirius looked up. Remus was turning back to the stove, attending to the dinner which was seconds away from burning.

"What does he say?" he asked quietly as he spelled the flames to subside.

Wincing at the poorly disguised stress in Remus' voice, Sirius scanned Harry's letter. Harry hadn't figured out how the cloak and map found their way into his trunk. And Draco, he wrote, was snapping at everybody except Harry himself.

There was no mention of last night's events beyond that.

I have Defense in a minute, the letter went on. Hermione's glaring at me. So, I'd better go now. Make sure you give Hedwig a treat. Love, Harry

Sirius set the parchment on the table. "Hermione's impatient to get to class." He made his tone light and Remus nodded. "Draco's still out of sorts," Sirius added; he'd caught Remus up before Hedwig had arrived.

"He doesn't seem upset any longer?"

"No."

Remus nodded and Sirius was just trying to decide what to say when a brown owl swooped through the open window and dropped the evening's edition of the Daily Prophet on the table. It hooted and was gone the same way it came. Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the picture on the front page. He swiped the paper from table.

"Why the hell is Gilderoy Lockhart taking pictures with Harry?"

Remus took the paper, a frown immediately darkening his features. "The Boy-Who-Lived has nothing but the highest praise for the adventurer Gilderoy Lockhart? His role model?"

"The man's delusional." Sirius peered at the picture. "And Harry's struggling to get away," he said, his face heating with an indignant flush.

Before Remus could agree, there was a muffled thump above their heads. Both men pivoted round, and with a shared glance, they had their wands out and were up the stairs in near silence a moment later.

Sirius halted just inside his room; Remus crashed into his back. "Dobby?"

"Dobby?" Remus echoed as he stepped around Sirius.

The Malfoy's house-elf scrambled off the floor, his huge ears flattened against his skull; he was clutching James' cloak. "Dobby is very bad," he whispered. He began banging his head against their bedpost.

Sirius dropped to one knee and put his hand on the post, cushioning the next blow. Dobby froze; as if afraid his head might be causing pain to Sirius.

"Don't do that," Sirius warned.

"But Dobby must punish himself-"

"First," Sirius interrupted firmly, "tell me why you're stealing that cloak."

Dobby shook his head frantically. "Dobby cannot."

"Who asked you to take it?" Remus asked, cutting off Sirius' retort.

"Ohhhh...." Dobby whispered. "Dobby is very bad... Dobby needs this cloak."

"Dobby," Remus said; he knelt beside Sirius. "Did Draco ask you to steal the cloak?"

Dobby's huge eyes seemed to take over the rest of his face. "Little Master is a good boy," he said fervently.

"Did he tell you to take it?" Sirius demanded.

Dobby took a step back. "Dobby is trying to help Harry Potter." The cloak fluttered to the floor and Dobby began banging his fists into his eyes. "Oh, Dobby is talking too much. Dobby must go before Master comes home. Dobby is very bad!" he cried and with a loud crack, he was gone.

Sirius stared at the spot where he'd been, bewildered and angry in about equal measures. He looked up when he heard Remus sit heavily on the bed.

"I can't believe I was such an idiot."

Sirius straightened slowly, his hand coming to massage Remus' shoulder. "You'll explain. It'll be all right."

Remus shook his head. "I accused him of stealing, Sirius. And lying about it..."

Sirius sat beside him. "He'll just be glad you believe him, Moony. It'll be all right," he said again but he knew Remus didn't believe him.

--

Harry glanced up at McGonagall as they walked along the corridor. "Are you certain it's just Remus?" he asked; his stomach was squirming like mad.

McGonagall peered over her spectacles at him. "Quite certain, Potter. Your godfather arrived with him, though he went to speak with Professor Lockhart."

"Professor Lockhart? Why?"

"I wouldn't know, Potter. Neither of your parents saw fit to offer any explanations, so I can only assume Sirius went to speak to Professor Lockhart about you."

"Me?" Harry squeaked. "But I didn't do anything!"

McGonagall smiled just a little. "It is between Professor Lockhart and your parents, Mr. Potter. Now, hurry along. I have a detention to supervise."

Momentarily forgetting that he was probably about to scolded again, Harry asked curiously, "You gave out a detention on the first day?"

"Not everyone is as well behaved as you, Mr. Potter," she said crisply and since they'd reached her office, she opened the door and prodded him inside. Remus was waiting for him.

The door closed softly and Harry and Remus stood, staring. Harry looked away first, finding the tops of his shiny new school shoes rather fascinating. Remus cleared his throat but Harry didn't raise his eyes.

"Harry," Remus said very quietly, "I'm very sorry I didn't believe you."

Harry's head came up swiftly at that and he seemed unable to stop himself from asking, "You believe me?"

Remus gripped one of his elbows and grimaced. He nodded. "Sirius and I found Dobby in the middle of stealing the cloak-"

"Dobby?" Harry's voice rose indignantly. "Dobby stole them? But why? Did Draco ask him to?"

"I don't know... Dobby Apparated away before we could ask him too many questions."

Harry could feel his cheeks growing hot as he thought of how much trouble he'd almost gotten into yesterday evening. "I told Draco about the cloak last Christmas. And I wrote to him about the map! I can't believe he would steal them! And who else did he think would get blamed for it?" he fumed, forgetting for the moment that it had been Remus who had done the blaming. "I can't believe it!"

"Harry," Remus interrupted his rant gently, "I'd like to speak to you... if you'd care to sit for a few moments."

Harry sat down but was too agitated to be silent. "I thought I was mad," he said with a fervent shake of his head. "Hermione and Ron and I tried to puzzle it out all morning--but even Hermione couldn't think of any ideas. Except she suggested that maybe there was some sort of Memory Charm placed on me and I simply couldn't remember taking them and I thought she was right after awhile, especially when you wouldn't believe me. I was almost sure I'd really done it!"

Remus looked very unhappy, sitting across from him and Harry finally remembered he'd wanted to speak. "Er... Did something else happen?" he asked. His heart skittering a nervous beat in his chest, he rushed to add, "I didn't ask Dobby to-"

"No," Remus said quickly. "That isn't-" He shook his head slightly and leaned forward. In a strained voice he said, "I just came here to apologize. And to tell you that I didn't mean to upset you so. I didn't realize you were..." He cleared his throat. Harry flushed, knowing that Sirius had probably told Remus he'd cried. But Remus didn't mention it. "I'm very sorry for doubting you, Harry," he said softly. "And I hope... you can forgive me."

Remus' throat still sounded scratchy and even though Harry wanted to tell Remus what an awful night he'd had and maybe even say that it had been pretty rotten of Remus not to believe him, he only nodded. "It's all right," he mumbled with a half-shrug.

Remus clasped his hands so that his arms were no longer dangling; he opened his mouth once and then closed it again. Harry dropped his gaze to stare at his own loose fingers. He inspected a bit of hangnail and said, "McGonagall said Sirius is here?"

He thought he heard Remus sigh. He glanced up from under his fringe. Remus was sitting up fully now; he nodded. "He's speaking with Professor Lockhart." Harry almost asked why but he nibbled on the bit of nail instead. "The professor should have asked our permission before he photographed you... One of the pictures was published in this evening's edition of the Prophet. Did you see it?"

Nibble. "Uh huh."

Remus curled a hand around Harry's; the nibbling came to an abrupt halt. They stared at each other again.

"Er, sorry," Harry quietly said. Remus let his hand go.

He rearranged his cloak, finally looking away. "If you'd like to find Sirius before we leave, we can take a walk toward Professor Lockhart's office."

"OK."

They didn't have to go all the way to Lockhart's office, though. As soon as Harry had the door open, he saw Lockhart coming from the other end of the corridor, his steps no longer the pompous gliding of this morning; he walked stiffly and as soon as he saw Harry and Remus, he harrumphed loudly, lifted his nose into the air and stalked past without a word.

Sirius followed behind by several paces, his own gait as relaxed as ever. He smiled when he spotted Harry. "Hey kid," he said, reaching out to muss Harry's hair. Harry smiled up at him.

"Hey Sirius."

"Your professor doesn't like me much," Sirius said, leaning in toward Harry as if telling a very great secret.

"What did you say to him?"

Sirius waved an airy hand. "It's not what I said, Harry, it's how I said it. I can be quite frightening you know." Harry gave his godfather a skeptical squint; Sirius chuckled. "No?"

Harry shook his head, smiling again when Sirius squeezed his shoulder.

"Well, even if I am as sweet as a newborn lamb, he won't take any more pictures with you,"

"Thanks," Harry said. "It was a bit embarrassing."

Sirius nodded in understanding. "He won't bother you with any more of that Boy-Who-Lived nonsense," he promised. "Are you off to find your friends?"

"Yeah... Draco especially," he added with a scowl. He saw Sirius and Remus exchange a glance. "Don't worry," Harry said. "I'll give him a chance to explain first."

Remus turned to study the path Lockhart had just taken. Sirius sighed so quietly it was nearly silent and Harry looked between them uncertainly. But Sirius patted his shoulder and said, "He probably didn't mean to cause quite so much trouble."

"Well, maybe not," Harry allowed with a shrug, "but it was still a stupid idea."

"What was a stupid idea?"

Harry shook his head at Ron, who was walking toward them with Hermione. "Nothing."

"Hello," Hermione said politely to Sirius and Remus, with a pointed look for Ron but he was too busy stuffing the last few bites of treacle tart into his mouth to give a proper greeting.

Harry's parents greeted Hermione in turn and then Sirius turned his attention back to Harry. "Go on with your friends," he said, "and we'll talk to you soon, all right?"

Harry nodded. Feeling suddenly unsure of himself, he vacillated on how to say goodbye. Sirius solved the problem by pulling him into a hug and though part of Harry wanted to groan, he smiled as his godfather's arms squeezed briefly.

Remus got a hug this time too, but the embrace left Harry feeling even more unsure than when Remus had apologized.

"Did Remus come to ban you from the second match?" Ron wanted to know after they'd gone.

"No," Harry retorted, already moving toward the enchanted staircase. This was all Draco's fault--the prat.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Draco."

Ron shrugged but Hermione took the steps two at time and caught up with him. "Why Harry? What's the matter?" she asked breathlessly. "What's happened now?"

"It was Dobby who took the cloak and map," Harry said, his hands balling into fists as he remembered his awful night. "Draco must have told him to. Can you believe that?"

"It was Dobby? But why would Draco want them?"

"Because he's a git."

Hermione grabbed his sleeve as they reached they landing to the second floor and Harry had to stop walking.

"Hermione, let go-"

"Harry, just calm down for a moment," she said, and if anything she grasped his sleeve tighter. "You can't charge into the dorms and start shouting at Draco."

"Why not?"

"You're much too worked up, Harry. And if you and Draco get into a fight, you'll both be in trouble."

"Well, I don't care," Harry said angrily. He tried to shake himself loose, but Hermione held fast. "Draco nearly got me banned from Quidditch!"

"I know," Hermione said softly. "And that was when you hadn't done anything wrong."

Harry blew out a frustrated breath and wished she didn't have a point. Even if Draco had been a giant arse, Harry knew his parents would expect him to control himself. "Why do you always have to be right?" he grumbled. Hermione squeezed his arm and smiled.

"Come on," she said. "We'll walk around for a bit."

Harry sighed and let Hermione lead him down the corridor, though he did spare a wistful glance up toward the stairs leading to the tower.

"Is everything all right between you and Remus now?" Hermione asked as they walked.

"Guess so."

Hermione glanced at him but didn't press for more. Harry was glad she didn't, since he didn't really think he knew how to answer. He wasn't angry at Remus any longer, but he still wished Remus had believed him--like Sirius had. And banning him from the first Quidditch match had been a pretty mean threat.

"Open," a harsh voice startled both of a them; Hermione halted just a few steps from the girl's toilet.

"What was that?" she whispered. "Sounds like hissing."

"Hissing?" Harry shook his head as he paused beside her. "Someone said 'open'."

Hermione's eyebrows scrunched together. "No one said anything."

"It was a boy's voice... didn't you hear it?"

"A boy's voice? In the girl's toilet?"

"Maybe it was Filch--Ron said it had flooded, remember?"

"Massssster, I smell blood," a different voice said--this one soft, like the one in the library had been.

"There it was again," Hermione said. "I didn't think they allowed snakes as student pets... Do you think someone's lost one?"

"A snake?"

"Well, of course. What else could make that hissing sound?"

Harry frowned, remembering that little snake he'd seen on his less than successful trip with Ollivander and Sirius last Christmas--and how Sirius and Ollivander had only heard hissing when he himself had heard words. He still hadn't told his friends that he was a parselmouth. But if he could help a snake find whoever it belonged to...

"Come on," he said to Hermione, "let's go in and see."

"It's the girls' toilet, Harry-"

"Well, do you want to pick up a snake?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose and Harry smirked. He went into the toilet, with Hermione a step behind.

"A boy!" a high voice screeched. "Boys aren't allowed!"

"It's moaning Myrtle," Hermione whispered into his ear and Harry cringed as a ghost with big spectacles and long hair whizzed right through him. "We just came..."

But Hermione trailed off. There was a gaping hole where it seemed the sinks had once been stuck together. And Draco was standing beside it--his back was to them so Harry couldn't see his face, but no one else had hair as pale of Draco's.

"What's he doing?" Hermione asked softly.

"Blood..." that crooning voice said again.

"Draco?" Harry's anger didn't immediately come rushing back and Draco didn't even seem to notice they were there. Harry touched his shoulder.

Draco whipped around and Harry's lips parted in surprise. Draco's eyes were red; he smiled slowly.

"Draco?" Harry whispered. "What's the-"

"Harry Potter," Draco rasped. He grabbed Harry's arm and Harry's scar began to burn, just like it had last year, only this time it didn't stop. He gasped and clutched his head as the pain intensified.

"Draco!" Hermione tried to pull Harry away. "Stop! What are you doing?"

Draco turned his head and the pain faded slowly. "A Mudblood," Draco drawled in that same hoarse voice. "You'll have a meal after all," he whispered and before Harry could try to make sense of that, he was falling through blackness, Hermione's scream echoing behind him.