Nied is Not Enough

Chapter Twelve

Winter was coming fast; each day growing shorter and colder. Harry and Draco continued spending their evenings talking and discovering each other's minds. Harry practiced channeling Draco into one area of his mind so he could carry on with his daily life.

In his free time, Harry often found himself wandering to the Quidditch pitch to watch the teams practice. The Wednesday before the Slytherin/Gryffindor match, Harry propped himself against the balustrade nearest the entrance to the pitch. Slytherin had booked the pitch and were running drills for the upcoming game.

Brandon Siegel, a seventh year and the captain of the Slytherin team, was shouting across the pitch at the other players. Harry couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he obviously wasn't pleased with his team.

Harry softly chuckled, remembering his times as Gryffindor seeker.

Brooms and balls whizzed past him; the air moving his robes around.

//Mr. Potter...//

Harry smiled as he heard the blonde's voice in his head. He knew Draco was coming up behind him. Draco rested his gloved hand on the banister next to Harry.

"Are you gathering information to give to the Gryffindor team?" Draco smirked.

"As you well know, Professor Malfoy, I happen to be in Slytherin," Harry said dryly back.

"Yes, but there are some Gryffindor traits you just haven't been able to let go of. Besides, now that you are Slytherin, I wouldn't put it past you to cheat a bit..."

Harry loved these playful arguments. "I would never dream of cheating, Malfoy."

"Hmmm." Draco raised one eyebrow at Harry. "As a matter of fact, I seem to recall a game during sixth year when someone I know kicked my broom as I closed in on the snitch. Yes...it was quite a long time ago, but I believe a certain someone claimed that they lost proper hold of their own broom and sent a leg flying to mine, knocking me out of the way."

Harry was shocked. He really had lost control of his own broom. Someone in the Slytherin crowd sent a small curse at Harry, making his broom jerk about slightly. "Well, Professor, if your housemates could have controlled their urge to cheat...Shall we have another go at it, then?"

Draco stood and straightened his robes. The cool late November air caused his cheeks to flush. He had been letting his hair grow and it swayed gracefully in the breeze. Harry had a tremendous urge to throw him on the moist grass and have his way with him. He controlled it.

"I don't think I could bother myself with such trifle matters. Besides, I would just win."

Harry openly laughed and the smugness pouring from Draco. "Do you really think so?"

"I have no doubts. I am a far better flyer than you, Potter. No...no, I don't think I'll embarrass you in front of our own house. I wouldn't want our students to lose their respect for you." Draco glanced around the pitch; a look of pity playing on his face.

Harry stood straight. He wasn't as tall as Draco, but his sleek muscled body gave him a larger appearance. "Scared, Malfoy?"

A challenge. "You wish." //Of course I'll play, Harry. I just wanted to rile you up.//

The two men glared at each other for a moment. Each held a hand in the air toward the castle. Their brooms flew out the front door and toward them, seemingly having a race of their own.

As the brooms met their respective owner's hands, and they walked to the center of the pitch, Harry set down the rules. "No wandless magic. No getting into my head to see my next move. No charming, cursing or otherwise unfair play. We will play only for the snitch. Got it?"

Draco stopped walking and set his broom tip on the ground. "Why do you get to make the rules?"

"Because the Gryffindor in me still likes to play fair."

In a high pitched, slightly whiney voice, Draco mimicked Harry's last statement.

"You are such a child, Malfoy."

The blond grinned.

Harry motioned to Brandon to fly down to him. Brandon complied and hopped off his broom. He looked slightly worried as he walked towards his heads of house.

"Mr. Siegel, Professor Malfoy and I were wondering if we could give Mr. Nolan a break and let him see what seekers are actually supposed to do."

The seventh year looked back and forth at his professors, noticing the slight tension between them. "I suppose so, sir. Seth does need a bit of guidance. He's gotten much better since last year, though."

"Very well. Professor Malfoy..." Harry casually raised his hand to let his old enemy take flight first. Harry soon followed him into the air, as did Brandon.

"Nolan! Stay out of their way...they're gonna' show you how it's done," Brandon shouted across the pitch. The small fifth year dropped his shoulders and slouched on his broom. He followed his captain's orders, however, and headed for an out of the way area of the pitch.

Harry flew around the pitch a few times, relishing the way the air rushed over him. Gods, he loved flying. He stopped far above the pitch and glanced below him. He could see the silver blond hair down and across from him, bobbing slightly in the air. Harry gave a small grin and heard the wings of the snitch zoom past his ear.

Before he knew it, Draco was speeding towards him, a look of sheer determination in his eyes. Harry turned his broom and followed the snitch leaning forward to accelerate. The two men were neck in neck.

The snitch took several quick dips and lifts, rocketing around the stands. The two men kept their eyes on it constantly. It gave a sharp turn and headed for the goal rings at the opposite end of the pitch. Harry turned more quickly than Draco, causing a near collision. Harry's broom tail brushed against Draco's hands, leaving scratches on the smooth skin.

"Watch it Potter!"

Harry was long gone toward the goal hoops. Draco shook his scratched hands quickly and followed. Harry was closing in as the snitch sailed quickly in a smooth curve around the stands. Draco cut toward the snitch, not waiting to get behind it. Harry saw this from the corner of his eye and accelerated even more. The two were again side by side, both reaching for the small golden orb fluttering in front of them.

It quickly shot straight up into the air. The men followed suit and were flying straight up as well. The snitch took another sharp turn down and flew directly toward one of the higher stands. Draco rolled his broom and he was flying upside down toward the snitch. He straightened again feeling Harry close behind. Both men reached for the snitch at the same time. Both men could almost grab it...

Harry felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. He was blinded for a moment; white was all he could see. The blow had knocked his glasses off and the pitch was not going to come back into focus. He sat dazed on his broom and saw a very blurry Draco Malfoy looking at him worriedly.

"Harry...can you hear me?" Draco's voice was slight and distant.

Below, he vaguely heard shouting from the team. Siegel was shouting at his beaters, Wes Vider and Travis Cook, that they should bloody watch who they are aiming at. The two beaters shouted that they didn't even hit the bludger, especially toward one of their heads of house. The other players were just shouting.

Draco swam in Harry's vision. Harry felt Draco's arm go around his waist as they headed toward the ground. Once on the ground, Harry sunk into a heap. Draco left him and began harshly reprimanding the players who had gathered on the ground thirty or so meters away.

Harry's head was beginning to clear when his glasses appeared in front of his face. He tried to focus on them, but gave up and just reached toward them. He replaced them on his head and looked for the person who handed his glasses to him. Morgan Wolfe stood with her head cocked unnaturally far to the right. She had a vacant and slightly amused expression on her face. She turned quickly and ran from the pitch.

Draco walked back to Harry still shouting at the team. "They said they didn't hit the bludger at you, Harry. Harry?"

He had fallen back on the ground unconscious.

Harry woke in the hospital wing to Poppy scuttling around his bed. His head ached where the bludger hit it. Harry reached for his glasses and put them on.

"Quite a track record so far, Mr. Potter. You are in here just as often as when you were a student." She 'humphed' and left the room.

"You really should eat something, Harry." Draco's usually smooth voice was filled with worry.

Harry turned his head quickly. The back of his head throbbed and he closed his eyes from the pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Draco was sitting in the chair next to his bed. The blond looked obviously tired. Harry let his hand drop off the side of the bed in search of Draco's. He found warm fingertips and hooked his fingers around them. He noticed the bandage covering a few small scratches on the back of Draco's hand.

"No. No food. I'd just throw it up. Did you catch the snitch?" Harry blinked at the blond.

"It doesn't matter, Harry."

"You caught it, didn't you?"

Draco looked down at the floor. "I wouldn't have if you hadn't been hit. It wasn't fair, so we'll have to do it again."

"Since when do you play fair, Slytherin? I am the one with a little Gryffindor in me." Harry slightly smiled at the blond who looked up with hurt eyes. Harry squeezed the fingertips he was holding.

Draco's expression changed immediately, recognizing that Harry must be feeling good enough to tease him. "Well, I might like to have some of that Gryffindor in me."

"Hey, now. We'll have none of that." Harry looked at him slyly.

//We won't ever have any of that?// Draco raised his eyebrows a few times.

"Ow. Please don't talk in my head right now. It really bloody hurts." Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sorry, love."

Harry turned cautiously on his side to face Draco. The two men had not done anything physically more than snogging. Harry felt slightly uncomfortable and changed the subject. "Can you please tell me what the hell happened out there?"

Draco rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "I don't know, really. You were right next to me going after the snitch then all of a sudden, you weren't. I felt a pain in the back of my head as I closed my hand around the snitch. I knew it wasn't my pain, so I turned around and saw you sitting there on your broom without your glasses looking like you'd just been hit by a troll."

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"You really tore into those kids, Draco."

"Well, what was I supposed to do? I thought they sent that thing at you. I really don't think they did, though."

"Sure, you probably did."

"Harry, seriously."

Harry smiled again. "Morgan Wolfe handed me my glasses. Do you know what she was doing out there?"

Draco moved uncomfortably in his chair. "No idea."

"Do you think she sent the bludger at me?"

Draco looked away from Harry. "I doubt it. She's ten, Harry. What on earth would she be thinking doing that?"

"I don't know. I just think it's strange that she was out there."

"Let's get you out of here and down to the Dungeons." Draco stood and helped Harry to his feet.

Poppy came back into the room with a tray of small glass vials. "You're not going anywhere until you drink these, Harry." She handed the vials one at a time to Harry who scrunched his face after drinking each one. "Do you really expect them to taste good? Here's the last one. Can you please be more careful in the future? I'm supposed to be taking care of the students, not the professors."

Both men smiled after her as she left the room in a huff. Although the little vials of liquid tasted horrible, they did the trick of ridding Harry of his headache.

On their way to the Dungeons, Harry decided to drop by and see Hermione for a bit. "I'll be fine, Draco. I'll be there in a bit." Draco shrugged and glided down the hall. Harry watched him walk, drinking in the vision.

Hermione was marking her fifth years' homework when Harry knocked. She seemed quite frustrated at having to answer the door until she saw Harry standing there looking a bit dazed.

"Harry! What on earth happened to you?" She ushered him into her sitting room and onto a chair.

Harry told her the story of being hit with the bludger that came from out of nowhere and of the small blond Slytherin who appeared and handed him his glasses just before running off the Quidditch pitch. She listened quite attentively to the story and the mention of the girl made her eyebrows cross with thought.

"There's something strange about that girl, Harry," she said pouring a cup of tea and handing it to him. He simply shrugged.

"I know she's a bit different, but really Hermione, she's almost a year younger than the other students and she's an Illusionary." Harry blew across the top of his tea and took a small sip. He could see the wheels turning in her head. "What do you know about Illusionaries?"

"When I heard we were going to have one here, I did a small bit of research. Hang on." Hermione stood and walked over to one of her many bookshelves. She pulled a small tatty book and several rolls of parchment from one of the shelves.

"A little bit?"

"One can never be too thorough," she smiled back at him. She sat across from him and began unrolling one of the parchments. "This is the first thing I found out. Illusionaries come from pure blood."

"Hang on; her mother didn't know anything about the magical world." Harry sat with his eyebrows scrunched together.

"How do you know?"

"I met them at the train station in London. Ms. Wolfe told me that she didn't know this world existed and that Morgan was just blind."

Hermione sat back against the chair. "Well, that's something I'll have to look into. Ms. Wolfe?"

"Yeah. I called her Mrs. And she corrected me. Wasn't the other Illusionary we had here a Wolfe as well?"

"I remember Dumbledore saying something about it. Hmmm...Ghislaine Wolfe."

"Do they never marry?" Harry asked quite surprised remembering the attractiveness of the woman on the platform.

"Something else I'll have to look up."

Harry grinned and reached to his old friend, giving her leg a squeeze. "So much for being thorough."

She gave him a playfully dirty look. "I did find something else pretty interesting, though." She retrieved the small book that was hidden under the pile of parchment. She flipped through until she found what it was she was looking for. "Here."

Harry took the book and began reading.

Illusionaries generally have a difficult time finding a place in the magical world because their abilities separate them a great deal. The abilities I am speaking about include duplicancy and plait creation. They have often been feared for these reasons.

Harry looked at Hermione questioningly.

"Duplicancy is the ability to watch someone else perform a spell and copy it almost exactly. It's like they absorb the magic they see and re-create it. I guess it scares people because it makes an Illusionary extremely powerful. But, if someone doesn't know how to use it properly..."

"You know, the Friday before Halloween, I had the first years practicing some basic defensive spells and Morgan got out of control, sending a blinding curse at one of the other students. She was supposed to spend detention with me that night, but she had to leave because her mother passed away."

Hermione looked around the room, maybe to find an answer somewhere on a wall or the carpet. "Did you teach them a blinding curse?"

Harry shook his head. "These were first years. I was just teaching them things like Expeliarmus. There was nothing more advanced than that."

"Well, where on earth..."

Harry simply shrugged.

Hermione leaned forward and looked him directly in the eyes. "She's in your house, Harry. Don't you ever talk to your students?"

"Of course I do. She's just never around. What about plait creation?"

She gave him a look reminiscent of Molly Weasley. Harry knew he needed to find the child and speak to her.

"That's a tricky one. I've only seen it done once. Hang on. I know I've got an illustration of it around here somewhere." She opened several parchments, looking for it. "During the war, I saw one of the Deatheaters doing it. It was the most incredible thing I've ever seen...where is it? It's like this web formed from the ground ...where ...this ...all the magic from the earth and everything around the person comes together and kind of lifts the person off the ground...I don't know where the illustration is." She threw her hands up in the air and sat back hard.

"Is that all that happens?" Harry was quite interested in plait creation.

"Oh, sorry. So all this magic and energy weaves itself into a web and lifts the person off the ground, forming a quite intricate web of magic around them. They almost pull any energy within a certain distance to them. When I saw it, I was way across the field so I don't know exactly what happened, but I can tell you this: the Deatheater was glowing bluish white and then an intense white light flew from their wand. It was like lightening. I have never seen anything like that before."

Hermione sat wide-eyed remembering that night. She suddenly jumped from her chair and ran to the bookshelf. She pulled a large heavy book from it and returned to her seat across from Harry.

(SHE?) He was breathing hard as she opened the book to an illustration of what she had just explained. He slowly looked over the edge of the book and was hit with Draco's memory of the night Voldemort fell. "Oh, Gods..."

"Harry, what's the matter?" Hermione had her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "Harry?"

"That wasn't a Deatheater you saw Hermione. That was me." His eyes were wide and scared.

"Right, Harry. You were seventeen and you don't even know what plait creation is." She looked carefully at his features. "You're serious, aren't you?"

He slowly nodded, eyes still scared.

"But, how..."

"I didn't remember anything about that night until recently. I saw one of Draco's memories. I saw the one the night the war ended."

Hermione looked at him almost as scared as he looked. He figured there was going to be no way around telling Hermione about the bond they shared. She would just hound him until he did.

As he recounted the happenings from the past months, Hermione filled their tea cups and produced some ginger biscuits. She mindlessly nibbled on the biscuits as she was rapt in Harry's story.

"So, he's in your head? All the time?"

Harry nodded. "We've been practicing so I can function. He's been able to put me away for ages, but this is all pretty new to me."

"So he could be sitting somewhere...erm...listening to our conversation?" She looked aggrieved.

"No. He could have before I knew about all of this, but now, I know immediately when he's in my consciousness."

She looked at him skeptically. "So what else can the two of you do? I mean with this bond thing?" A slight redness spread across her cheeks. "I mean in your heads..."

Harry, feeling blushed himself, patted her knee and said, "It's okay. We can experience each others memories, like I said before. Oh, we can also talk to each other, feel when the other is near, or far: we can tell exactly where the other is at all times. It's so crazy, Hermione." He sat there shaking his head. "Like right now, I know he's stomping around his rooms, frustrated because I've been up here talking to you for well over an hour." He grinned. "We usually have a game or two of chess on Wednesday evenings and it looks like I'm missing my date."

Harry started to get up and Hermione took his hand helping him the rest of the way to his feet.

"I'm going to look some of those things up. About Illusionaries." She gave him a good long hug. "Please don't make it so long between visits, Harry. This castle isn't that big."

He agreed and left her rooms. He could feel Draco's frustration growing as he headed for the Dungeons.