Not Just an Empty Emotion

Chapter Two-Familiar Faces

The swaying motion of the train was making him feel so drowsy. His eyelids felt as though they were made of lead. He curled up into the very corner of his seat, against the cool window, his body in a defensive posture. Closing his eyes gently, he submitted to sleep. Ron and Hermione were performing their prefect duties. So was Ginny. Luna and Neville were sitting on the other side of the carriage. The sound of giggling woke him up, and Harry opened one eye to look at them. Neville had his arm around Luna's shoulder and was whispering something in her ear. She immediately blushed and giggled again, before enclosing him in a hug. Harry turned away. As much as he wanted to see this, as a lesson in romance (because he hadn't exactly had much success in his first relationship), he didn't want to intrude, or be seen.

As the light dimmed Harry rose and lit the torches in their carriage. The flickering orange and yellow light was relaxing. He heard Luna sigh and say something to Neville, which sounded like "Oh, how romantic!"

Harry felt the jealousy bubble inside the darkness of his heart like a simmering cauldron down in the dungeons of Hogwarts.

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Crabbe was talking. Or was it Goyle? He didn't know or care. It was a struggle, at the moment, to keep his face that trademark blank canvas that was so essential to his survival. He had to fight to keep the emotion off it. The muscles at the side of his mouth were twitching, pulling, bullying his lips, trying to get them to curve upwards in a graceful arc, something not often displayed on his coarse face. He wanted so desperately to smile, but he knew he mustn't. He battled with his mouth, until it was subdued enough. He must not smile.

The truth was, that he was ecstatic. Finally, after two months of what he could only describe as sheer Hell, he had escaped his father. He could hardly believe it. He felt like those two months had been his whole life, they seemed longer than his entire Hogwarts career.... and now.... at last.... it was behind him. He felt he could live again. He needn't face the Cruciatus curse again.... for a while at least. The feeling swelled inside him like a giant balloon, making him feel like he was walking on air.

And of his outlet? How could he possibly talk to Potter? After all, he'd acted like a sadistic bastard the last five years, and he didn't think anyone, least of all Potter, would accept his change. And he needed Potter's trust...and to trust Potter not to tell anyone the things he wanted desperately to siphon off...The trouble was, if he was honest enough with himself, he didn't deserve anybody's trust, least of all Harry Potter's.

An idea suddenly formulated itself in his mind, and he sat bold upright. Soon it had blossomed into a plan. It was almost foolproof. He had to congratulate himself on his genius. Soon he could resist the urge no longer, despite himself he hid his mouth behind his hand and, pretending to cough, Draco Malfoy smiled.

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Dumbledore's calming voice was echoing around the Great Hall. He was giving a speech about Professor Umbridge's replacement in the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. Once again it wasn't Snape. To the students' amusement, however, this year he didn't seem at all bothered by that fact.

"I would like to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Professor Jupiter. She joins us from the Ministry of Magic at both her, and my request. Professor Jupiter has been a Ministry of Magic Employee for the last four years, working in the Department of Mysteries, before joining us today. She is an excellent teacher, and a wonderful young woman. She has asked me to inform you that if you have any worries, or have anything to ask, perhaps if you need help, she will be only too happy to come to your assistance. You can rely on her."

As the Great Hall erupted in enthusiastic applause for the new arrival (many of the boys looking up at the new Professor with a hungry light in their eyes) Harry felt comforted knowing that there was an ex-Ministry of Magic worker at Hogwarts. The Ministry may not have been exactly kind to Harry over the last year, but at least this woman seemed to understand what was going on. He had heard Moody mention Jupiter before now. He always spoke very highly of her. Apparently she was in the Order of the Phoenix, though he himself had never seen her at the headquarters.

Jupiter had sleek dark red hair, which cascaded down to her shoulders like a graceful waterfall. Her eyes were no colour in particular; sometimes they seemed blue, sometimes brown, and sometimes green. She had pretty features and clear, creamy skin. Although not very tall, she gave the impression of power. She wore robes of a deep, blood red, which complemented her hair, and seemingly added to her beauty. As she smiled around at the students filling the great hall, each of them felt that she was looking at them in particular. It was though she was cross-examining their minds.... it was a very peculiar sensation indeed.

Dumbledore had then gone on to announce some more new rules (as well as repeating some of the original rules for the benefit of the older students) which the squib caretaker, Argus Filch had decided to impose upon the students this year, thus preventing them from enjoying themselves as much as was humanly possible. Despite the slightly amused tone of the great headmaster's voice, Harry felt himself losing his concentration. He took to looking around his fellow students. His eyes met the terrified faces of the new first years, perched almost precariously on the edges of their benches, drinking in every word Dumbledore said. He saw the older students; their familiar faces glowing in the light from the suspended candles. Some of them smiled at him, or waved. Others his eyes skipped and he chose to ignore. People like Cho.

His eyes reached the Slytherin table last. He scanned it quickly, not interested in the slightest with anyone seated at it. Until he reached the end of the table, that is. Draco Malfoy was there. Nothing unusual, Harry thought, coolly. But there was something unusual about his archenemy. Harry tried to stare discretely at him to see what was wrong. His face was the same, all of the right features in their right places (unfortunately Harry thought angrily). Yet there was definitely something odd about it...it still had the same cold, and arrogant look fixed onto it that was for sure, so...what was so damn wrong?

It was a few minutes before Harry realised that Malfoy was staring back.

The boys realised, simultaneously, that each was staring at the other. Harry's stomach gave an enormous jolt of realisation as he tore his eyes away from the Slytherin's face cursing himself silently, and, more unusually, for the first time ever, he noticed no powerful surge of acid hatred filling his veins.

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He wanted nothing more than to sleep. To be up in his comfortable, warm bed, to be in Gryffindor Tower, with his sheets and hangings hiding him from view of the critical world. Harry dragged his feet laboriously along the corridors, up the many flights of stairs, through secret passageways and large tapestries. All the while Hermione's voice droned in his ear like a mosquito he longed to swat. He wasn't taking in a word of what she was saying.

"-of course I knew we'd get someone else from the ministry again, especially after what Moody said, but I'm glad Dumbledore chose her. I didn't think it would be a woman though, after what happened with Umbridge and all, did you Harry? Harry? Oh, never mind. She looks really nice, doesn't she? I hope she's as good as Lupin was, though he said he didn't know her." She was talking very fast, once again. This was a habit Harry and Ron had had to grow used to over the five years they had known her.

"It looks as though we can trust her, too. After all she is Dumbledore's niece-"

"What?" Harry jerked his head up, startled at this new, intriguing piece of information. "Dumbledore's...what?"

"Niece, Harry. Niece. Dumbledore's niece." Hermione sounded exasperated, but there was a note of humour to her voice also.

"What?" said Ron, "How the hell did that happen?"

"Do you really need me to explain Ron? I'd have thought with Bill and Fleur sleeping in the very next room to you at The Burrow, then you know all about that-"

Ron cut her short, "Oh, ha-ha, very funny, Miss Know-it-All. You know exactly what I meant".

Trying hard not to laugh at the look on Ron's face, Hermione continued, "Apparently, ages ago Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth had a short-lived fling with a Lady Seer called Orbah, and then...well, as you can see, the result was Swan Jupiter."

Ron was utterly disgusted, "Urgh! That's absolutely gross! Aberforth's got to be about the same age as Dumbledore, right? Isn't he a bit old to be having kids? And Jupiter can't be older than 20! And how do you know? And what the Hell's a 'Lady Seer'?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Ron! Get a grip! People are allowed to have sex if they're older than twenty-five you know!" Ron looked somewhat surprised at this piece of news, but Hermione ignored him. "Swan's 23 for your information. Lady Seers are true seers, not like that fraud Trelawney, and they can live for hundreds of years. They're very beautiful and...well...more mythical than your average witch. They carry children for 3 years before giving birth in a lake. They are far older than wizard-kind. Jupiter has probably got some of her mother's traits in her blood as well...And I know because Kingsley told me last night when you two idiots were blowing Droobles Best Blowing Gum in each others' faces!"

Harry was astounded. As they stepped through the portrait hole entrance to Gryffindor Tower (Hermione giving the new password to the Fat Lady, Porlock) Ron was still insisting he felt ill imagining someone older than thirty engaging in those kinds of intimate relations. Harry slumped down in an old and battered armchair near the roaring fire, knowing that this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons would, at least, be far more informative than the last.

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Harry was pondering over what had happened between him and Malfoy. As much as he tried to deny it, he could not ignore the fact any longer that he and Malfoy had been staring into each other's faces without hatred. This was what confused him the most. He had always hated Malfoy. Always. And vice-versa. So why had it suddenly stopped? Hatred could not be present in its entirety one moment and gone with no trace whatsoever the next. Especially between him and Malfoy. That was just impossible. They'd hated each other ever since they first clapped eyes on each other in Madam Malkin's. He knew it had something to do with Malfoy's feelings. His hadn't changed one jot. At least...he didn't think so. Why would Malfoy's feelings towards him change? He, Harry, had got Malfoy's father locked up in Azkaban only three months ago! Okay, it hadn't been a very long stay in the gaol, but that was no reason for Malfoy to start liking him for Christ's sake!

Harry didn't know what to feel. The idea that Malfoy's feelings towards him had changed for the better (or, in Harry's point of view, changed for the far, far worse) made him feel sick.

"Are you OK Harry?" Hermione sounded concerned as she broke his train of thought. He must look really bad; she had actually broken off an argument with Ron to see if he was feeling well. "You look awfully pale."

Harry looked at her with a somewhat surprised expression and tried to fix a convincing grin onto his face, "Oh, um, yeah, I just feel a bit ill...that's all. Must've eaten a bit to much at the welcome feast..." And without further ado, he got up and marched to the boys' staircase, looking for nothing other than sleep.

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Draco lay in bed, fighting the sleep that was so desperately trying to engulf him, and which he was equally desperately desiring. But he had to sort it out. Potter had seen him looking. He cursed himself under his breath. It could ruin everything. Potter was not stupid, as Draco had always maintained to anyone who was foolish enough to listen. Potter would know something wasn't right. Since when had his archenemy looked, no stared at him avidly like that?

And then there was the jolt in his stomach. He could tell the same had happened to Potter by the odd look on his face.

Draco was worried; there was no denying it. Harry almost certainly knew something was up. Or at least that something had changed. And the problem was, after this evening, Potter would most probably avoid him at all costs. Which meant that his plan was now completely and utterly worthless. The chances of it working were now almost nil. He would have to think of a new plan, and fast.

Sighing, Draco turned onto his side, resolved to sort his problem out in the morning and let the drowsiness surround him. As he dropped off into a deep sleep, his last thought was the rather pleasurable feeling he had felt in his heart when he had realised he was being watched by none other than The Boy Who Lived...

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Sleep came to Harry very easily that night. He dreamt that he was walking in a circle around the lake. Over and over again he circled. He saw the huge tentacles of the giant squid in the distance massaging the surface of the glassy water.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of orange light and he was standing in the middle of the dark charms classroom alone. He didn't move, but saw that he had his wand in his hand ready to strike. He noticed that his breathing was slightly irregular and heavier than normal.

Hearing a movement he looked up and saw, out of the dark shadowy corner, a tall figure approaching. It was overbearing, the power almost radiating from its body, and whatever it was, was wearing robes blacker than the room itself. And- Harry registered the fact numbly in his mind- it was holding a wand up high. He could not see who it was in the dark, but knew instantly that he did not want to know.

The figure advanced towards him, it's face hidden in shadow. His scar began to burn, and although it was sheer agony his composure did not waver.

In his sleep Harry writhed like a snake.

Raising its wand, the thing cried "Cruc-"

"NO!" a voice screamed from somewhere behind him. Without turning to see who it was, Harry raised his own wand and shouted at the same time as the other voice, "Protego!" The two spells together did what one alone could not, and deflected the powerful and complex curse. Momentarily the room was lit with sparkling purple and red light. In that brief moment Harry saw that his aid had their arms wrapped around his body, binding them together. And he recognised their attacker. The tall figure was walking towards them. "Avada Ke-"

Two voices shouted two different spells,

"Pantamera!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Voldemort was blasted off his feet into the wall where he lay crumpled for a moment. Then, defeated, he dissolved into the solid stone wall with a defiant hiss. He left no trace of having been there only seconds before.

Harry turned around and looked at his ally, who still had their arms around Harry's waist.

It was Draco Malfoy.

He wanted to get away from there, away from Malfoy's touch, away from the dream. But something was keeping him there. They were close. Very close. As he looked into Malfoy's eyes he saw something moving. Shadows, glowing like embers in a fire, and then dying only to be reborn. They were in the boy's mind...as Harry watched the embers faded, until, finally, they had disappeared, leaving behind them only they cool silver of Malfoy's eyes.

The boys looked deep into each others' eyes, and when Malfoy spoke, Harry felt his cool, gentle breath playing about his own face, the boy said simply, "Murderer's Aid, Potter."

Harry woke up with a yell and twisted and turned in his sheets until he was completely entangled. His hand brushed his crotch accidentally. To his dismay he found that he was aroused. "Shit!" he yelled in disgusted panic, trying to find a way to deter the other boys in his dormitory now trying to free him from his bed. He heard Neville light one of the lamps, and scramble off his bed. Ron's voice was audible over his own struggling efforts. "What? Harry?! Is it-are you-are you seeing You-know- what again?"

Harry managed to shout back, in a high-pitched voice, "No! No it's nothing like that, go back to bed, I just had a nightmare!"

"Harry! Stop being a stupid git and let me help you!"

He managed to stand up and free his head from the hangings, artistically covering his groin, "I'm OK, just had...had a nightmare. Honestly Ron, it's OK!" but he knew he was a bloody liar.

He had, in fact, been enjoying the dream; although he felt sickened by it now, but what had woken him up was the shock that Malfoy had said "Murderer's Aid". Did that mean he knew? About the prophecy? The whole thing? And what did the "Aid" bit mean?

His last comforting thought before he closed his eyes again, was that it was just a dream...Malfoy couldn't possibly know...

Across the castle, wondering why he had said "Murderer's Aid", Draco Malfoy was experiencing exactly the same.