Russian Roulette

[Chapter Three: Ignite]

{You were my compass,

Leading me to nowhere fast....}

Upon reaching Gryffindor Tower while they were standing side by side outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry shot Draco a wary look. "You sure you'll be okay doing this? I'm going to get mad if you start to taunt my housemates."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I think I can control myself during certain circumstances," he said, placing a hand on the small of Harry's back and pushing him forward insistently.

Harry sighed and reluctantly said the password to the Fat Lady, who eyed Draco suspiciously and swung open after a slight delay. When Harry stepped through the portrait hole, closely followed by Draco, everyone looked up from what they were doing. Draco got several more suspicious looks from the people in the room, but he did his best to ignore them as he followed Harry to a small couch by the fireplace, close to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, apparently doing homework.

As they progressed farther into the common room, Draco got more and more scathing looks, and people started to whisper as they realized that he was a Slytherin, and shouldn't be here. Harry shot them looks that pretty much said "shut up," and eventually reached the couch, offering Draco a seat before he himself sat.

Ron and Hermione had noticed Harry's entrance with Draco, but tried to ignore them until they were actually face-to-face. Hermione looked up from her homework, and looked at Harry strangely as she noticed that Draco was eagerly shifting towards Harry on the couch, so that he was practically on top of him. Harry smiled at him, and wrapped one of his arms around the other boy's shoulders.

"Harry," Hermione said carefully, "what's he doing here?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Draco said, distinctly annoyed.

"Fine, then," Hermione answered curtly. "Why are you here, Malfoy?"

"Because Harry invited me, of course," Draco responded promptly, trying to keep resentment out of his voice for Harry's sake. "It's awfully awkward trying to have a conversation in the Library when you're supposed to be quiet."

Hermione looked at the two suspiciously. "Do you remember what I said yesterday, Harry?" she said, her voice taking on a warning tone. "I expect he'll be leaving before curfew," she said meaningfully, obviously indicating that she wouldn't be at all happy if he was going to spend the night.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I remember."

Draco looked up at him questioningly, but Harry merely shook his head subtly, indicating he'd tell him later.

The four of them stared at one another awkwardly for a few moments before Ron and Hermione turned back to their homework, leaving Harry to give Draco a pacifying look, as he looked angry and confused.

After a few moments of sitting in silence, Draco began to get bored, so he quickly came up with an evil idea, which he quickly put into motion. He let his hand rest innocently on Harry's knee, still staring straight ahead as if he hadn't realized what he had done. He felt Harry's leg twitch under his touch, and smiled to himself at the reaction he got. Slowly and casually, he began to move his hand up Harry's thigh, making him take in breath sharply.

Harry didn't come into the common room with the intention of making out with Draco where everyone could see, but Draco clearly thought otherwise, and frankly, Harry wasn't about to argue. So, he put his hand over Draco's where it was moving up his own leg, stilling its progress. Draco finally looked at him, smiling in a very mischievous way. Instead of registering this, however, Harry chose to lean over and kiss him. Hard.

It seemed as if everyone in the common room had been secretly watching them the whole time, for as soon as they started kissing, everyone snapped their heads up to stare unabashedly. It was just such an odd sight for some of them; although Harry and Draco did kiss a lot in public, it was never quite like this. Draco had his eyes closed, but he could still feel everyone staring at him. He couldn't tell if he minded or not, and he found himself vaguely wondering if he was turning into an exhibitionist.

Harry, however, was oblivious to the people watching. It could have been just because he was generally less perceptive than Draco, or something else completely unrelated. So, when he broke the kiss with Draco, he was very surprised to find everyone staring at them. When the people watching saw the annoyed look on Harry's face, however, they quickly looked away, innocently continuing what they had been doing before the two had started to kiss. Hermione, however, was still looking at the two; her face was slightly flushed, but she had a disapproving look on it nonetheless. Harry smiled at her sheepishly, trying to avoid her gaze in order to get her to look away, but she was persistent; she didn't even shift the expression on her face until Harry met her eyes again.

"Harry, I thought you said you came here to talk, not snog," she said, her tone indistinguishable.

"Well, you know..." Harry said indistinctly, not knowing what to say. Hermione sighed and shook her head out of frustration. Harry then turned to Draco, who was now looking even more confused. "Hey, why don't we get some more homework done?" Harry said to him softly, picking Draco's books up from the floor and laying them on the table in front of him.

Draco shrugged noncommittally and started to unpack his bag, taking out the book he had been reading in the Library earlier. Harry sighed in relief and picked up his own books, burying his nose in the one labeled "Advanced Charms."

Normally Draco wouldn't put up with such nonsense, but he had a feeling things would change once Hermione went to bed. He now hated her more than he could ever remember hating her before, he realized grudgingly.

The girl was watching them owlishly, obviously trying to be subtle about it, but Draco noticed nonetheless. What was she, the Public Display Of Affection Patrol? It wasn't like she and Weasley never snogged in public (and that was something nobody wanted to see). Draco quickly realized that he was getting himself worked up, and tried hard to concentrate on the text he was reading.

"And in 1875, the law that restricted the breeding of certain magical creatures (full list on page 756) was enforced, causing..."

Draco found his attention wavering after less than a sentence; his eyes kept moving across the page, but he wasn't really absorbing the information. His attention was focused almost entirely on Hermione, and he was silently and subconsciously willing her to leave so he could talk to Harry freely. Normally, he really wouldn't care what she thought, but not only was she Harry's friend, but she was also the Head Girl, and if something really displeased her, she could easily take points away from Slytherin. Draco rolled his eyes at his own logic, once again trying to concentrate on his homework.

He soon realized that this was indeed impossible, so he looked at Harry imploringly, communicating his discomfort and impatience. Harry easily got the message, and quickly stood up from the couch, obviously feeling the awkwardness himself. Draco stood up with him, and looked at him expectantly.

"Uh, why don't I walk you back to Slytherin, Draco?" Harry said a little louder than necessary, so that Hermione would hear him.

Draco looked at him angrily and started to say something, but quickly stopped at the look on Harry's face, which communicated that he had ulterior motives. "Sure, why not? I've got loads of homework to do, and it's hard to concentrate with--" he had been about to say "with that bitch breathing down my neck," but quickly stopped himself, instead saying, "with... you so close."

Harry rolled his eyes; picking up on the fact that Draco had been about to say something rude. Hermione had been watching the exchange and took the moment of silence as an opportunity to interject. "Good to hear you care so much about your studies, Malfoy," she said suspiciously. "Goodnight, then."

Draco nodded politely before following Harry out of the portrait hole. Once outside, Draco turned on Harry and put a sneer on his face. "What was that? Kicking me out after only five minutes? I thought I was going to stay with you!" he whined, pushing Harry playfully.

"What makes you think you won't be?" Harry said with a decidedly evil smile on his face.

"Alright, what have you got planned?" Draco said, his tone instantly changing.

Instead of answering him, Harry reached into the depths of his pocket, and withdrew a silvery piece of material that was folded neatly so it would easily fit in the confined space he had pulled it from. Draco's eyes widened as he watched Harry shake it out so it fell to the ground, completely unfolded.

"Is that what I think it is?" Draco said, amazement lacing his tone.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak, yeah," Harry said casually, shaking it out gently to get out the last creases.

"So that's how you've been sneaking around all this time and not getting caught!" Draco said in wonder, still watching Harry.

"Well, I got in trouble a fair few times as it is," Harry said reasonably, gathering the cloak in his arms gingerly so it was no longer dragging on the floor.

"You know what I meant," Draco muttered, reaching forward to touch the material experimentally. After finishing his inspection, Draco let his hand drop to his side and his eyes met Harry's. "What was Granger talking about, anyway?" he asked curiously, frowning slightly.

"Uh, what?" Harry said, feigning confusion.

"You know, she said something cryptic like 'remember what I told you yesterday...'" he said, doing quite a good imitation of Hermione's shrill voice.

"Oh. That," Harry said halfheartedly. "Er, well, she'd just been telling me that she didn't think it was such a good idea for us to get too intimate. But I already told you that."

"It was her?" Draco all but yelled, his cheeks flushing from anger. "She's the reason you won't have sex with me?"

"No!" Harry said quickly, his cheeks reddening for an entirely different reason. "I agreed with her! She thinks that I'm going to ignore her warning, probably, and that's why she didn't want you in Gryffindor Tower."

"What is she, your MOTHER?" Draco snapped. "Don't let her tell you what to do! You can think for yourself, can't you? Or does she have to tell you how to do that too?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Harry retorted. "Sure, she is a bit controlling, but I don't let her push me around. If I disagreed with her, I just wouldn't have listened!"

"I don't know," Draco said thoughtfully, "it does seem like she dominates conversation, and she is sort of a control freak..."

"Draco! She's been my best friend since I was eleven years old! Don't say mean things about her! She's just worried about me is all," Harry said.

"Alright, whatever. Just tell her that I'm not going to rape you, okay?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she knows that. She's probably more afraid of what I'll do."

"Oh, whatever. I'm sick of talking about this. Can we go now?"

Harry smiled at Draco's impatience. "Okay. Just put on the Cloak, and keep a grip on my arm so I don't accidentally shut you outside the portrait hole."

Draco complied, throwing the Cloak over his body and making sure it covered all of him before latching on to Harry's shoulder, following him back up to the portrait. The Fat Lady was looking at Harry suspiciously again, as she had just seen someone disappear into thin air, but just as she was opening her mouth, Harry cut her off. "Quiet, you. It's not your job to question my intentions. Pixie dust." At the sound of the password, the Fat Lady made an indignant noise and swung open haughtily.

Again, everyone in the common room looked up, but this time they looked down again quickly, because Harry walking into the common room by himself (how they saw it, at least) wasn't out of the ordinary no matter how you look at it. Hermione, however, noticed the guilty look on Harry's face, but before she could question him about the surprisingly short time it took to walk Draco to Slytherin and come back, Harry was already walking up the stairs as fast as he could with Draco hanging onto him.

Once they got into the seventh year boys' dorm, Draco quickly threw off the cloak after making sure they were alone. He handed it to Harry, and began walking around the room, observing everything from the trunks at the bottom of the five beds to the various posters and clippings adorning the walls.

Harry watched him nervously, wishing for his approval. Draco's nose was wrinkled in distaste, but he looked pleased to be where he was nonetheless. After a few minutes of quiet observation, Harry broke the silence. "Well?" he said expectantly.

"Too much red," Draco said simply. A moment passed, and then Draco turned to Harry, smiling slightly. "But I like it," he said. And although it wasn't exactly the sweetest thing Harry had ever heard, it really made him feel good.

Draco continued to pace the room, carefully examining each bed. "Oh," Harry started, "my bed's the one--"

"Shush," Draco said, cutting him off with a shake of his head and the raising of one of his hands. "I want to figure it out myself."

Harry shook his head behind Draco's back at this odd challenge, but humored him nonetheless. After another minute of pacing the room, Draco stopped and turned around to face Harry. "That one over there's yours," he said triumphantly, pointing over to a bed that had Quidditch posters, old photographs, and various Gryffindor-themed items plastered all over adjoining wall.

"Right you are," Harry said, slightly surprised. "How did you know?"

Draco shrugged one shoulder. "I could just tell," he said, going over to Harry's bed, pulling open the hangings, and sitting on it.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Harry said, indicating Draco's position. "We should get ready for bed and get behind the hangings. I'd rather if my roommates didn't know you were here, as they might be upset."

"Alright, where's the bathroom?" Draco said, getting back up.

Harry pointed him in the right direction and sat down on his bed to wait. He was kind of excited about this whole thing; they were reaching a new level of their relationship by spending the night together. In some ways, Harry felt like sleeping in the same bed was more intimate than anything they could do sexually. His cheeks tinged pink at the thought of that, and he quickly tried to put it out of his mind, reminding himself that he wouldn't even consider it until the two months were up.

By the time Harry was done pondering all this, Draco was back from the bathroom, having finished washing up. Harry got up wordlessly and went into the bathroom to do the same. However, by the time he walked back into the main room, he found Draco pulling off layers of his clothing, until he was left standing in nothing but his boxers. Harry stared at him unabashedly as he undressed, but once he was finished, he looked away and tried not to gape.

"Um, would you like to borrow a shirt or something?" Harry said, blushing despite himself.

"No, I'm quite alright like this, thanks. It's how I usually sleep," Draco said casually, sitting back down on Harry's bed and laying against the pillows at the head. Harry couldn't help it; he let himself look back at Draco. His hair was slightly tousled from when he had pulled his shirt up over his head, and it had to be one of the cutest things Harry had ever seen. Draco Malfoy, whose hair was always meticulously combed, was reclining on his bed shirtless with messed up hair. Harry repressed a smile as he completed this thought, trying harder not to stare at Draco's bare chest or nicely formed legs.

After a few moments of struggling with himself, Harry looked at Draco's smooth torso. It was almost impossibly pale--so different from his own skin--yet not in a bad way. It reminded him of breakable porcelain; just as fragile and just as beautiful. He found that his hands were twitching, wanting so badly to touch the exposed skin. Just touch it--nothing more; it looked so soft, and he was sure he'd really enjoy feeling it beneath his fingers. Draco cleared his throat after a few moments, and Harry was sure he was going to make a sarcastic comment, but when Harry looked up and met his eyes, he just saw silent amusement on Draco's face.

"Aren't you going to undress?" Draco said, no trace of discomfort in his voice.

"Sure," Harry said, snapping out of his daze quickly, and pulling off his own clothes. Once he too was left only in his boxers, he climbed onto the bed next to Draco and reached forward to close the hangings. They were now enclosed in near darkness; the heavy curtains around the bed cut off all the light abruptly, except for a small sliver where the two sides met one another. Harry fumbled for his wand, which he had resting on a small table by the side of the bed and cast 'lumos' in order to light the enclosure. "Now what?" Harry said once he could see Draco, again attempting to suppress his desire to touch the other boy.

"Shouldn't you cast a silencing charm? Your roommates will wonder whom you're talking to," Draco said.

"Right, good idea." Harry complied, placing his wand back on the night table once he was done. They stared at each other for an awkward moment, both trying to think of what to say. Eventually, a relaxed smile spread across Draco's face as he rested one of his hands on Harry's bare shoulder, tucking a stray strand of blond hair behind his own ear.

Harry smiled back easily, putting his own hand over Draco's. Draco began to stare longingly at Harry's chest, and it didn't go unnoticed. Harry found himself holding back a blush, wondering why they were both suddenly so awkward with one another. Harry took Draco's free hand and threaded their fingers together, looking at the way their skin contrasted so nicely. He then looked back up at Draco's face, seeing that Draco had been watching him.

Harry smiled again, leaning forward slowly until his lips met Draco's in somewhat of an awkward fashion. Draco sighed in relief, leaning forward into Harry out of habit. Harry received him readily, carefully unthreading their fingers, instead wrapping his arms around Draco's middle. He slowly eased them down so they were no longer sitting, but now laying down on the bed on their sides. As soon as their full weight rested upon the mattress, Draco pulled himself closer to Harry, allowing their bare chests to make contact.

The heat was maddening. Harry felt his own burning skin make contact with Draco's, who was equally hot. It wasn't a bad kind of heat though--it was that comfortable, sleepy heat that wasn't sweaty, or sticky. Draco gasped at the contact, opening his mouth wider and therefore allowing Harry's tongue to invade. Draco hooked his arms under Harry's, grasping his shoulders from behind and running his hands across them leisurely, enjoying the feel of lean muscle underneath soft skin.

Harry let his hands explore Draco's back. His skin was every bit as soft as it looked, and Harry could vaguely feel the ridges of Draco's spine, which curved and straightened as Draco moved against him. Harry's hands went around to Draco's sides, and he wanted to touch the front of his torso, but it was quite impossible, as they were pressed so closely together. Harry then gently pushed Draco over, so that he was on his back and Harry was completely on top of him. Draco didn't complain, but rather melted into the mattress, hooking his ankle behind Harry's.

The two of them stayed like that for a while, not bothering to keep track of the time. Draco found his consciousness drifting, bringing him to a place other than where he was physically. It wasn't a bad thing though, like he wasn't living in the moment--it was just that being with Harry like this relaxed him beyond even his own comprehension.

Their companionable silence was broken at the sound of the dormitory door opening. The newcomers announced themselves with heavy footfalls, almost stomping into the room. "Oi, you reckon Harry's asleep already?" Ron's voice sounded, permeating the hangings and causing Harry to freeze.

"I dunno, Ron, it's kind of early. But why else would his hangings be drawn?" Dean responded, taking a few steps closer to the bed.

"Whatever, he must be tired. Best keep our voices down, no?" Seamus interjected, walking towards his own bed.

Draco snickered at Harry's discomfort, shifting slightly so Harry would stop cutting of the circulation in his arm. "What're you worried about? Do your friends usually open up your bed curtains when you're supposedly asleep?"

"No, I guess not," Harry said, relaxing slightly. They then continued kissing, more slowly and lazily this time, as they were getting tired. Soon, Harry rolled off Draco, now resting on his back with his arm around Draco's shoulders. Draco turned on his side and moved closer, so that his face was resting on Harry, where his shoulder and neck met. Draco breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in Harry's distinct scent. Harry turned his head so he could see Draco and smiled softly, running his fingers through Draco's hair. Normally, Draco would protest, but it felt too nice, and he was too tired to care. He wrapped his left arm around Harry's torso and closed his eyes, letting his breathing regulate as he started to doze off.

Harry let himself relax completely against the other boy. There was something about having your boyfriend sleeping in your arms that made it impossible to stay awake, so with a last glance at Draco, Harry put out the light and fell into a restful slumber.

[//]

(Five months earlier...)

(July 15^th, 1997)

It was very, very dark. The only lights that could be seen were the stars in the sky, shining dimly through the foggy night. The light was almost completely absorbed by the water vapor in the air, leaving the Hogwarts grounds almost completely enveloped in darkness.

And Draco Malfoy was running very, very fast. The still summer air was whipping almost painfully against his face, his feet carrying him closer and closer to a destination he could hardly see. His lungs were straining every time he drew breath, beckoning him to stop his running and collapse onto the inviting soft ground, and catch his breath. But Draco could do no such thing--he knew if he stopped he would never start again.

The fact that he couldn't see where he was running was overwhelming him in an almost unbearable way--he had no idea if he was even getting any closer. For all he knew, he was running in circles. But no, that would be too cruel, he told himself. He was running straight, towards his destination, and he'd see it very soon. Sure enough, after what seemed like hours, a few pinpricks of light became visible in the distance--the lit windows of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. Draco would have breathed a sigh of relief, but his lungs were already threatening to cave in on themselves.

Draco didn't really know why he was running. He had done very little thinking before deciding to go to Hogwarts. Now, he figured it had been blind panic--he was getting in way too deep, and he had to find a way to save himself before he ended up like... Well, before someone did him in. That is why he had Apparated to Hogsmeade (the closest area to Hogwarts one could Apparate to), and begun to run the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

Draco realized numbly that tears were steadily streaming down his face, and this shocked him into running faster, as if he could run away from the tears and leave them behind. Draco knew that he shouldn't be crying--crying showed weakness, and weakness is what got people killed. Draco didn't need any more death and hurt, especially not now.

Abruptly, Draco was standing at the front steps of Hogwarts. It seemed as if one moment it had been ten miles away (as it had been for a long time), and the next he was almost tripping over the stairs.

Draco took a moment to regain his breath just enough so he could bolt up the stairs, and then did just that. Once he reached the top, he began knocking furiously on the enormous double doors. He was knocking so hard that he was sure his knuckles were beginning to split and bleed, and he had been just about to stop and start using his other hand when the doors opened, revealing a very startled (yet annoyed) looking Filch. Although usually the old caretaker instilled fear and dread in the pit of Draco's stomach (as he was associated with detention), Draco was now overjoyed at the sight of this familiar face.

"What are you doing here?" he all but snarled at Draco, brandishing a lantern and letting the light flood across Draco's flushed features.

Draco blinked and cowered away from the sudden light, throwing his hands up in front of him in a sort of automatic defense. Once he realized Filch was waiting for an answer, Draco tentatively let his hands fall to his sides and straightened as best he could. "I'd like to see Professor McGonagall," he said politely, in as calm of a voice he could muster, considering the circumstances.

"Malfoy, is it? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Filch growled, Mrs. Norris hissing and spitting by his feet, apparently backing him up.

"Yes, I know," Draco said, trying not to plead, "but if you would just let me in... it's sort of urgent."

"How do I know you're not going to try and hurt anyone?" Filch said suspiciously.

Draco sighed; he knew this would happen. "Here... take my wand," he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to Filch.

Filch took the wand from Draco roughly and inspected it, as if to make sure it really was a wand. He then pocketed it, looking back at Draco. "Well, all right then," Filch said in a resigned voice, turning on his heel, and gesturing for Draco to follow him, his lantern casting the dim hallways of Hogwarts into an eerie glow.

Draco had never been in Hogwarts when it was empty, and it was quite unnerving. Usually, when he went out at night during the year, he was on Prefect duty, and would always run into a fellow Prefect. Tonight, however, the halls were barren and dark, as if nobody had been in them for hundreds of years. Or maybe it was just because of the way Draco was feeling that they looked like that.

Soon enough, they were mounting a staircase, and eventually wound up in front of the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's office.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," Flich muttered, obviously bitter at having to say something so silly. Draco smiled to himself sadly; apparently McGonagall had upheld the tradition of making the password some kind of sweet, even though Dumbledore was gone.

The gargoyle jumped aside, and the giant staircase was revealed. As soon as Draco stepped onto it, it began to move, startling him. He had to stop himself from grabbing Filch, who was still looking bitter and angry, holding his lantern like a lethal weapon.

Once the staircase reached their destination, Filch stepped off first and knocked on the door. A moment later, Minerva McGonagall was revealed, wearing a dressing gown and a scowl. "What is it, Argus?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes behind her small spectacles.

"A Mr. Malfoy is here to see you, Headmistress. Says it's urgent, he does," Filch said in an oily voice.

McGonagall was suddenly wide awake, peering around Filch's stumpy figure. "Mr. Malfoy?" she inquired suspiciously. At the sound of his name, Draco stepped out from behind Filch looking up at her, something akin to fright on his face. "My God, what has happened to you?" she gasped, seeming to notice his distress.

Draco took a tentative step forward. "May I come in?" he said tiredly, glancing warily at Filch.

"Yes, of course, how rude of me. Argus, you may go." Filch bowed and turned, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Once he was gone, Professor McGonagall turned to him sharply, her beady eyes set on him suspiciously. "Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy," she said politely, yet sternly.

Draco gladly accepted, collapsing into the chair in front of her desk. He vaguely registered that the nameplate on the desk still read "Albus Dumbledore" and figured she didn't have the heart to remove it yet.

"What brings you here, Mr. Malfoy? What has happened?" McGonagall questioned finally, after a moment of silence during which Draco stared at the old nameplate.

A pause. "I've come to offer my assistance to the light side of the war," Draco said after a tense minute, meeting her eyes.

Professor McGonagall looked startled; she obviously hadn't expected this strange turn in events. "W - well," she stammered uncharacteristically, "you'll have to be seventeen years of age in order to help out," she finished weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"But I've been seventeen since June fifth," Draco answered, silently amused at her dumbstruck state despite himself.

"But... what brought on this... change of heart?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Draco's eyes darkened and he looked down. "Something terrible has happened," he answered slowly, not looking at her.

"What?" she said, alarmed. "We should act immediately! What's happened?"

"Oh, nothing really that concerns you. It's not that important. It was just sort of a... wakeup call for me," Draco answered, still looking down. When McGonagall didn't say anything, Draco continued. "Look, I really feel terrible about what happened last month. I never really wanted a part of it... it was just what was expected of me, and I had to go through with it. I mean, I didn't really think about what I was getting into..." Draco's voice trailed off.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I don't want to be on His side," Draco said softly. "He's killed so many people, and... well, last month, Professor D - Dumbledore told me I could switch sides and you'd keep me safe from Him."

Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared, and she became very tight-lipped. "Professor Dumbledore is no longer around to make you that offer again," she said in a dangerously calm voice, "and I think I should remind you that it is largely your fault that he isn't."

"That might be true," he said softly and sadly, "but to me, that's all the more reason to join your side. I want to make up for the damage I've done. But still, it's not like I killed him... I couldn't..."

"I'll ask you again, Mr. Malfoy," she said abruptly. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Draco gulped audibly, having been dreading the moment where he'd have to discuss this. "Severus Snape," he said simply.

"Severus Snape?" McGonagall repeated sharply. "What about him?"

"He's d - dead."

This seemed to strike a chord within Professor McGonagall, for she faintly looked upset. "What happened?" she asked, almost gently, clearly detecting Draco's sadness.

"He killed him," Draco said, "He found out about Severus's alliance with the light."

"W - what?" McGonagall stuttered. "But... he killed Dumbledore! He couldn't have been allied with us! Dumbledore would never tell anyone why he trusted him!" At this point, she seemed to be arguing with herself more than she was arguing with Draco.

"No, no, that's not it," Draco said, "he was always on your side, and I guess I always sort of knew that. I think he... you know... did it, because it was part of a plan, or something. He never spoke to me about it, so I don't really know. I could just tell by the way he acted after it happened that he really, really didn't want to."

"Why does his death distress you so? I'm sure you're used to seeing You-Know-Who's followers being slaughtered," McGonagall said bitterly.

"Yes, I am, but Severus had been taking care of me since the end of June. I've known him for a long time, and he's always been so good to me... almost like an uncle, or something. See, that's the reason I can't support You-Know-Who anymore. I can't see any more people die like that. And I don't want to die like that." Draco's voice trembled, and finally broke at the last sentence.

"I can see you're upset, Mr. Malfoy, and you probably mean all that you're saying. But I'm not sure if you realize what all this entails. It's hard work, being on our side. You're going to have to be willing to put your life on the line for the cause. If you're switching sides to avoid death, I'm not sure you're making the right choice."

Draco closed his eyes tightly. "I think I have a better chance of surviving on this side," he said.

"That's another thing--if you're doing this merely for reasons of self-preservation, it's not going to work. You have to have your heart behind your decision. Plus, you'll be working alongside the likes of Harry Potter, and I know things between the two of you aren't exactly smooth."

"I don't care," Draco said decisively, as if promising this to himself as well as her. "I'll do whatever it takes. I have to fight against Him, because just look what He's done to me..." Draco paused as he thought of his father, who had been tortured all those times by The Dark Lord, and then thrown into prison for supporting Him. He thought of Severus, who had put so much on the line only to be tortured and murdered...

"You really mean it?" McGonagall said, quirking an eyebrow. "You'll die for the cause?"

"I mean it," Draco said, nodding once firmly.

"Well, if you're sure..." said McGonagall, extending a long, thin hand for Draco to shake. "Welcome to The Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Malfoy."

[//]

(Present time)

Ron Weasley was getting very impatient, indeed. It must have been somewhere around noon on Saturday, and he was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, trying to do painstakingly boring homework. Hermione had told him that when Harry woke up, he could stop and have a break to go play Quidditch with him or something, but Harry still wasn't showing any signs of life. In fact, Harry hadn't even made a peep all last night. Ron just supposed he was really tired and had to go to bed early, then sleep late, but he quickly became agitated.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked him as he got up, not taking her eyes off the book she was reading.

"To go wake up Harry," Ron moaned impatiently, running up the staircase to the boys' dorms. Upon opening the door, Ron soon saw that there still wasn't any change in Harry's state--his bed curtains were drawn, and everything was just how Ron had left it nearly four hours ago. Ron groaned in frustration, stomping up to Harry's bed.

"Harry! Honestly, you've been asleep for twelve hours at least, wake up already!" he shouted through the hangings. No movement. "Alright, looks like I have no choice! Don't say I didn't warn you, mate!"

With that, Ron ripped open the bed hangings and promptly jumped backwards out of surprise. "WHAT?" he gasped, having to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly.

Harry finally stirred, opening his eyes slightly against the sudden bright light and blinking. "What's going on?" he said sleepily, yawning. Ron just gaped at him. "Oh, it's just you," Harry said, sounding relieved. Draco, who was still wrapped in his arms, pulled the covers over his head and made several vague (yet loud) sounds of protest.

"Argh!" Ron said, sounding like he was being strangled. "Did you two...?"

"What?" Harry said vaguely, rubbing his eyes and trying to sit up in bed, but being held down by Draco, who tightened his grip around Harry's middle when he felt him start to move. "Don't make me have to think about what you mean, I've just woken up."

"I shouldn't even be asking!" Ron said, sounding somewhat horrified. "It's so obvious what you were up to! Just look at you!"

"What are you on about?" Harry snapped, opting to prop himself on one elbow since Draco wouldn't let him sit up fully. Eventually, the meaning of Ron's words caught up with his sleep-hazed mind, and his eyes widened. "Oh... no, we didn't do anything!" Harry insisted, patting Draco's arm soothingly as he made a more insistent attempt to bury his face in Harry's side.

"Oh, come on Harry!" Ron protested, "Just give up, and don't insult my intelligence by lying like that! If you tell me the truth, I swear I won't tell Hermione!"

"No!" Harry said, his eyes widening. "Honestly, we just went to sleep!"

Ron had opened his mouth to argue, but Draco interrupted him, making both of them jump. "And I would still be sleeping if you didn't come in here and wake me up, Weasley!" he shouted grumpily, tugging the covers off his head and sitting up, glaring at Ron angrily.

"Um..." Ron didn't quite know how to answer that, so he turned back to Harry. "Why are you bothering to deny it?"

Again, Draco answered for him. "Because it's not true! Would I be in such a bad mood if I got some last night?" he seethed, looking angry with Harry now.

"Uh, I don't know?" Ron said uncertainly.

"Bollocks," Draco growled, shaking a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. "Now get the fuck out of here! I'm not exactly wearing all that much, and you don't deserve to see!"

For once, Ron didn't argue and turned tail, closing the door behind him. "Finally," Draco murmured, slumping against the pillows, "I thought he'd never leave." Harry just stared at Draco bemusedly. "What?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Are you always this evil in the morning?" Harry asked, looking somewhat frightened, but equally impressed.

"I don't know; I just don't like people waking me up. I was quite comfortable where I was," he said, wrapping an arm around Harry to reinforce his point. "Now, why is it that your friends always have something to say whenever we're having fun?"

"I don't know," Harry grumbled, burying his face in his hands. "They're a bit overly protective, aren't they?"

Draco snorted. "That was a huge understatement," he said bitterly.

"I just hope he doesn't tell Hermione," Harry said worriedly. "I have the distinct feeling I'll be in for a lecture if he does."

"Forget about her!" Draco said stubbornly. "She shouldn't stick her nose in other peoples' business."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't help feeling happy that she cares about me so much," Harry said.

"Forget about her, you have me for that now," Draco said, smiling at Harry smugly. Harry smiled back and leaned down to kiss him.

"You are a complete attention hog, you know?" Harry said once they broke apart.

"Whatever," Draco said, rolling his eyes and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Harry, can I borrow some of your clothes?" he asked sweetly.

"I don't see why not," Harry said, slightly amused at the idea of Draco wearing his robes. He rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a white school shirt and black slacks that were a little too small for him, as well as a set of Gryffindor robes.

Harry handed them to Draco, waiting for his reaction. Draco eyed them distastefully for a moment, turning to Harry. "On second thought, maybe I can wear my robes again..."

"Draco, you're actually considering wearing dirty robes?" Harry said incredulously.

"I can't wear your Gryffindor ones!" Draco exclaimed, holding them by the shoulders and letting them unfold, the bottom falling to the floor.

"Yes you can," Harry said simply, pushing him towards the bathroom.

"Alright, fine, but I will find a way to get back at you for this," Draco promised, entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, he emerged, wearing Harry's Gryffindor robes (Harry snorted in amusement at the sight--it was too surreal to fully register) and a smug grin. "I've made my decision," he announced imperiously, walking over to Harry's bed and gathering up his clothes from the day before. "I'm refusing to wear the Invisibility Cloak when we go downstairs, and Granger will find out I stayed the night!"

"What?" Harry asked, appalled. "You can't do that!"

"Watch me," Draco said obnoxiously.

"But then everyone will see you in Gryffindor robes!" Harry pointed out.

Draco hesitated for a moment, seeming like he was going to reconsider. After a moment, he shook his head decisively. "I don't care. It'll be even funnier that way."

"You really are a sadist!" Harry groaned, walking into the bathroom so he could shower.

When he emerged, he quickly noticed that Draco had been waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently. As soon as he had both feet out the door, Draco grabbed his arm and started to drag him out of the dorm, down to the common room. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled as he dragged Harry.

Once they reached the common room, everybody looked up and stared at Draco's unlikely appearance, both because he was there, and because he was wearing Gryffindor robes. It quickly became apparent that Ron had not, in fact, told Hermione about how he found Harry, for she was staring at the two of them, looking shocked and vaguely worried.

Harry was blushing at the feeling of everyone staring at him, and trying not to meet anybody's eyes.

"Harry," Hermione said once she had recovered from the shock, her teeth clenched, "What were you thinking?"

"Er..." Harry started.

"Don't pick on him, Granger!" Draco cut in, surprising Harry into silence. "I'd hate to remind you that you really have nothing to do with what me and Harry do, especially when you're not around!"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, floundering for something to say. "You better not have pressured him into doing anything he wasn't ready for, Malfoy!" she hissed, only loud enough so that he and Harry could hear her.

"You're not his mother, Granger! He's seventeen years old! Even if you were his mother, there still would be very little you could do about this!" Draco retorted, not answering her question.

Hermione looked like she was about to explode, but restrained herself for Harry's sake. "Harry," she said quietly, fighting for her control, "can I speak to you?"

Harry shot Draco a wary look, then turned to Hermione. "I suppose..." he said slowly. She promptly grabbed his arm and dragged him up to the boys' dorm. Harry allowed himself to be dragged, hanging his head in embarrassment, for Hermione was making quite a spectacle. He faintly heard Draco growling in protest to Hermione's manhandling of Harry, but ignored him, figuring that responding would only make things worth for all three of them.

Hermione sat Harry down on his bed, and positioned herself across from him. "Harry, why? I told you why it wasn't a good idea, and you said you agreed, but then you went and did it anyway! Have you no self control?"

"Hermione, nothing happened! I asked him to stay the night, and we just slept, I swear it! But even after that's established, why do you care so much? It's really none of your business!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Do you mean it, Harry? Nothing happened?"

"Yes, I'm telling the truth! Now answer my question!"

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and calming herself. Harry wasn't sure if this was out of relief, or if she were trying to relax so she wouldn't yell again. "I told you already," she said slowly, "I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to get in too deep, because, as I've said before, this is going to end. One day you're going to wake up, and look at Malfoy, and you're not going to feel anything, and you're going to hate yourself. And he's going to hate you, and you're going to hate him, and it's just going to escalate, and your rivalry will get worse, and someone might wind up hurt badly..." Hermione trailed off as she realized she was rambling and quickly cleared her throat.

"You don't know that for sure," Harry said quietly.

"How do you mean?" Hermione said suspiciously.

"Well, we never really found out that we took the Potions for sure, it's a possibility we didn't, you know..." Harry bit his lip; half wishing he had kept his mouth shut in fear of her answer.

Hermione stared at him for a few moments, only moving to blink. "Are you suggesting," she started incredulously, "that you think there's a plausible possibility that neither you nor Draco drank the Potion? Do you seriously think you actually loved each other from the start?" she laughed humorlessly at the prospect. "I don't know about you, but to me it seems highly impossible."

"Why, though? Is it really that hard to believe?" Harry asked, still speaking very quietly, as he was upset.

"Yes," Hermione emphasized. "Need I remind you that mere minutes before you consumed the Potion, you and Malfoy were ready to rip each other's heads off?"

"But..." Harry started, but quickly realized he was fighting a losing battle with one look at Hermione's face. So he decided to use a different approach. "Maybe you're right," he started carefully, "but what if the Potion kind of just helped us along a bit? I mean, isn't it possible that after we took the Potion, we had a chance to get to know each other better, and we started to care about each other for real?"

"It seems highly unlikely," Hermione said bluntly, "but you can believe that if you want to. I just don't want you to have any delusions that may or may not be shattered by the time the two months are up. But again, all I can offer you is my warning. I suggest you wait the rest of the two months. Continue as you've been going, there's no problem with that, as far as I can see. And when it's over, if you don't feel any different, then do whatever you want, I won't try to stop you anymore. Remember, this is just because I care about you."

Harry smiled at her, but didn't put any feeling behind it. After conversations like these, he always felt emotionally drained. Her constant worrying remarks weren't really helping his mission to put the whole Love Potion dilemma out of his mind. "I'd better get back to Draco," Harry said, glancing at the door nervously. "He'll be angry you've dragged me up here."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you complain about me controlling you; he's so much worse than I am."

"No he's not," Harry said automatically, already starting to walk down the stairs.

Hermione watched Harry go and shook her head sadly. "Too trusting for his own good," she muttered, getting off the bed to follow him.

[//]

(August, 1981)

(Some 16 years earlier...)

Regulus Black was more tired than he could ever remember being, in his entire life. He was practically crawling out of the dark cave he had just spent the past three hours in, and his eyes were sunken in, and his arms were heavy, but he had a vague smile on his face. He had emerged triumphant.

When Regulus had joined the Death Eaters, he never had ideas of "purification" of the world in his mind. In fact, he had been pressured and threatened into joining, which at first scared him out of his wits. After a while, though, he figured he could benefit from this position. Sure, it would be dangerous, but it would be anyway, so why not get something out of it? Regulus was a very smart man, and he knew an opportunity for gain when he saw one.

In fact, it was such a great idea that he didn't know why nobody had thought of it earlier; simply get close enough to the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself that you gain knowledge that can be used against them. And that was just what Regulus had done.

He took a moment to get his bearings; he had to gather energy to Apparate to a safe place. He sat down on the cold, wet floor of the area outside the cave and cast a few healing charms on himself that boosted his energy slightly. He then pulled his broomstick out of his pocket--he had put a shrinking charm on it so he could fit it in. He enlarged the broomstick back to its normal size and mounted it, prepared to fly back to the other side of the lake by the cave. Before taking off, he patted his pocket to reassure himself that the Horcrux was still there. It was, and he allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. He had done well.

Clinging to his broom tightly, he began to fly back across the lake. As he did this, he tried to think where he could go now; surely he'd have to find a safe place where he could spend time figuring out an effective way to destroy the Horcrux. He was certain that the Dark Lord had made it difficult to do such a thing, and he'd probably need books about destroying dark relics. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the dark figure waiting for him on the other side of the lake. Almost.

When Regulus saw the menacing shape, he almost stopped flying and turned around, back towards the cave, but he knew that would solve nothing, for something so simple would not stop Lord Voldemort.

When Regulus had embarked on his mission, he had been fully prepared to die--he was, in fact, planning on committing suicide after he finished the task in order to avoid torture--so that wasn't why he was terrified. No, it was just that he wasn't supposed to die at this point. He was either supposed to die while in the cave, or after he destroyed the Horcrux. Not now, not when he had it safely in his pocket and was so close to finishing his mission. But, it looked as if the Dark Lord had other plans.

So Regulus steeled himself for what was sure to happen, and took his time in flying back to shore, prolonging his anxiety. When he touched down and dismounted his broom, the dark, hooded figure was still standing, unmoving, several yards away from him. Regulus just stood where he was, waiting for the other figure to make the first move.

Sure enough, after a full sixty seconds of silence, the Dark Lord took several steps forward, so that he and Regulus could clearly see each other. He still had his hood on, however, so Regulus could not see his face, and could not be totally sure of his identity.

A cold voice emitted from the folds of the robe. "Surely you didn't think your little quest would go unnoticed, did you?" it said, chilling Regulus to the bone.

"I could only hope," Regulus responded weakly, not bothering to take his usual respectful tone, as he knew he was already doomed.

"How clever you are," Voldemort said, his tone mocking. "I was actually quite surprised that you had gotten even this far. You would have done amazingly in my ranks... too bad you decided to turn traitor."

Regulus had no time to respond. Before he even realized Voldemort had finished speaking, he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, causing him to crumple in a heap on the ground, twitching and shrieking as he was subjected to the most pain he had ever experienced.

The torture went on for several minutes that felt to Regulus like hours; Voldemort was silent the entire time, just watching impassively as Regulus writhed in pain. Finally, the curse was lifted.

"You make me sick," Voldemort spat.

"Likewise," Regulus croaked. Voldemort ignored him.

"I wish to look at you no longer." And with that, Voldemort cast the killing curse, and Regulus was still and silent. Not bothering to step any closer, Voldemort muttered, "Accio Horcrux," and after catching the floating locket, was gone.

A moment later, he appeared in front of Malfoy Manor, the home of one of his most trusted servants. Due to a spell that constantly hovered around Voldemort, Lucius was immediately alerted of his presence, and opened the door. Although he had already known what he would see when he opened it, he was still shocked to see his master standing there on his doorstep. But he was just as frightened, because Voldemort never went to you; you went to him. That is, unless he was going to kill you.

Lucius smiled weakly. "M - My Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?" His voice sounded strong, but his demeanor communicated otherwise; his knees were shaking, ready to give. To prevent this, he braced himself against the doorframe.

"Malfoy." It was not a greeting, nor a question.

Lucius unfroze after a few moments. "Please, come in! How rude I've been!"

Voldemort followed Lucius into the Manor, declining Lucius's offer for a seat, choosing to stand instead. Lucius watched him uncomfortably, not used to his guests standing right in the middle of the parlor.

"Malfoy, I need a favor," the Dark Lord said shortly. "That's why I have come."

"Oh? Of course I'll do it. What is it?" Lucius asked, relief spilling into his stomach; he wouldn't be murdered tonight, after all.

"Remember the book I gave you? A year ago, I believe it was?" Lucius nodded fervently. "I told you it was very important, and that you must keep it safe, no matter what, remember?"

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius said, now getting nervous. What if harm had come to the book and he hadn't realized? Is that what this was about?

"Well, as far as I can tell, you've done a good job of keeping it safe. Your home is the perfect place to keep things of such importance. So, tonight I have come to ask you to keep an additional artifact safe. Under no circumstances will any harm come to it. Under no circumstances will it leave your home. You will put several protective charms around it. You will keep it well hidden. Understood?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Lucius said, again relief flooding through him. But at the same time, he was getting more anxious. Why was it so imperative that it be kept safe? Was somebody looking for it? Was somebody going to try to torture information out of him? With the Dark Lord, one never knew, or at least not until it was too late.

"Very well, Malfoy. I'm trusting you here." Voldemort reached into the pocket of his robes, and withdrew the Horcrux. It was a locket; a locket with an ornate 'S' inscribed on the front, obviously once a possession of Salazar Slytherin. Lucius inhaled sharply; this was obviously a very valuable item, and he was honored that the Dark Lord was entrusting it to him. Voldemort let it slither from his hand into Lucius's palm, and the heavy weight falling onto his skin practically radiated power. Lucius was shocked to find that it was cold--he thought that since it had been in Voldemort's hand, it would have absorbed some warmth. But then again, this was the Dark Lord, and nobody really knew if he should be expected to give off heat.

"One last thing, Malfoy," Voldemort said before leaving.

"What is it, My Lord?" Lucius breathed.

"I want you to put a glamour charm on it. The strongest one you can manage; conceal the letter so that nobody will be able to reveal it, and nobody will know just how important it is. Do we understand each other?"

Lucius nodded, and Voldemort was gone.

[End Of Chapter Three]