Something More

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Chapter One - The Walk:

Harry Potter sat bolt upright in bed. His pitch black hair was plastered to his forehead, and sweat was pouring down his face. He struggled to remember the dream that had woke him, but the more he tried, the more it seemed to slip away, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.

He glanced at the delicate, snitch-shaped clock beside his bed. Without his glasses it was slightly fuzzy just he could just make out the hands. It was three in the morning.

He brushed his fringe back and ran shaking fingers over the lightning-bolt scar that was hidden by the unruly mess of hair. No, his scar wasn't hurting, but he was sure the dream had been about Voldemort. What else could scare him like that?

Harry Potter was no ordinary seventeen year old. He was a wizard, and it was that very scar that made him special. When he was barely a year old, the darkest wizard in over a century, Voldemort, had come for Harry. But Harry's mother sacrificed herself for her baby son, and the love she left in Harry deflected the curse back on its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled.

But, just over two years ago, he had returned, more powerful than ever and gathered his faithful servants, his Death Eaters, to him once more. Harry had been present at Voldemort's rebirthing, and he suspected that the dream that had woken him had been remembering that night, remembering the blank look in Cedric's eyes after Voldemort had killed him. Harry shook his head sharply, his bright green eyes blinking rapidly in the darkness, trying to escape the guilt he still felt, even now, over Cedric's death.

For two years, Harry had been waiting for the attack, but it hadn't come. The Side of Light had a spy within Voldemort's ranks, and he had reported that the Dark Lord was biding his time. Gathering followers, waiting for a moment when he could be sure of victory.

But in the meantime, Muggle families had been disappearing, and Harry blamed himself for their deaths.

It was two weeks into Harry's final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a shock for Harry to realize that he only had nine months left, before he had to leave the only home he had ever known.

Harry drew back the drapes that surrounded his four poster bed, and looked around the dark room. The other four occupants were all sleeping soundly, their dreams untroubled by visions of death and pain. Neville's rumbling snores filled the room, and every so often Seamus mumbled something about marmalade and rubber chickens in his sleep.

Suddenly, Harry felt terribly constricted, almost claustrophobic, and he knew he had to get out.

He groped in the dark for his glasses and wand. He located his glasses and managed to put them on, but his wand rolled off the bedside table and fell to the ground with a clutter. Harry froze, waiting for someone to wake up.

"Blurry birds!" Seamus' Irish lilt was muffled by his pillow, as he rolled over. Harry smiled faintly, feeling some of his tension eased. Grabbing his wand from the floor and the Invisibility Cloak his father had left him, he tiptoed out of the room and down into the Gryffindor Common Room. Wrapping the cloak about his shoulders, he pushed the Fat Lady's portrait open. The Fat Lady murmured in her sleep, as Harry disappeared down the corridor.

He pushed the great oak front doors open and slipped outside. The cool night breeze kissed his face, and he immediately felt a sense of calm wash over him.

He knew he shouldn't be wondering around at night by himself with Voldemort on the loose, much less outside, but there wasn't much even a badass like Voldemort could do to him when he was invisible, he reasoned, and trotted down the front steps and onto the stretching grounds.

The lawn was damp with dew and as he walked his feet left slight impressions in the wet grass. Hermione had spent hours last year trying to find a spell to cover tracks, and had eventually come across one in a heavy, and rather scary-looking, textbook. Harry racked his brains trying to recall the incantation. Something about concealing? Concealius? No, that didn't sound right. Eventually he gave up and continued walking, hoping that no one was looking out of the castle windows, or if they were that they wouldn't notice that thin air leaving foot prints.

He wandered down towards the lake, watching its glassy surface rippling slightly with the breeze. He wound his way around the shore, and up past the silent Quidditch pitch. He broke away and drifted around the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Suddenly he heard voices, drifting on the wind. A tiny voice popped up muttering something about eavesdropping being rude, but he ignored it and silently moved forwards.

Just inside the forest, between the dark, twisted trees, he spotted a soft light, and crept towards it.

"Well? What did the Dark Lord want?" Harry froze. He recognized that cold, curt voice.

As he drew closer, Severus Snape's sallow face became visible in the shallow light that was issuing from the end of his wand. His companion was hidden in the shadows. Snape looked angry, but another emotion flitted briefly across his sharp features. One that Harry didn't think he'd even seen before on the Potion Master's face. Concern?

"Well! Answer me!" Snape prompted. "It must have been pretty important for the Dark Lord to summon you in the middle of the night, right from underneath Dumbledore's nose!"

"Nothing significant," said a silky voice from the shadows. Harry leant closer. He recognized that voice from somewhere. "Just wanted to know how things were here at Hogwarts."

The figure stepped out of the shadows, the dim wand light glinting off his silver blond hair.

Draco Malfoy sneered grimly and brushed a lone strand of silver hair off his face.

Harry gasped audibly and both Snape and Malfoy whirled around, their eyes searching the darkness.

"Come, it's not safe to discuss this here," said Snape and he led Malfoy briskly back towards the castle.

Harry slumped against a nearby tree.

Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. He knew Snape was one, but that he was also a spy for the Light, passing all his information to the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

But now Malfoy was one too. Harry wondered why he was surprised. Malfoy had always been a git - always insulting Harry and his friends, trying to get a rise out of him. Harry thought back over all the things Malfoy had done to him over the years. No, he should have expected this. After all, Draco's father Lucius Malfoy was one of Voldemort's highest ranking Death Eaters - Harry had seen him at the rebirthing. It was only natural that a prat like Malfoy would follow his father's evil path. But somehow, Harry had never imagined Malfoy to be that evil. Sure he was annoying and cruel, but a Death Eater?

Harry wondered why he cared. It's not like he could save Malfoy now that he had the Dark Mark, and of course, Harry told himself sternly, even if you could save him, you wouldn't want to. He's a bastard. He's not worth it.

So, Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. Snape was obviously playing along with him so that his cover wouldn't be blown. Harry wondered if Dumbledore knew. Maybe he should talk to him. If Voldemort was recruiting students now, then even Hogwarts wasn't safe.

Thoughts and questions fluttered around in his already cluttered mind. All of a sudden he felt overwhelmingly tired.

Slowly Harry walked back to the castle, trying to sort through his scrambled thoughts. He glanced at his watch before remembering that it didn't work. He still hadn't managed to replace it after it was damaged in the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year. He wore it out of habit and comfort, despite its incapacity.

He headed to bed, but he knew he wouldn't sleep. Another student had been taken by the Dark Lord. Harry couldn't save Draco, just like he couldn't save Cedric. He wasn't the hero everyone thought he was. He was just a myth.

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Chapter Two - The Question:

At seven-thirty Harry rose again after lying awake for three hours. He went off to shower and when he returned, he found the other members of his dorm beginning to rise.

Neville Longbottom drew back his drapes, hair mussed up and looking bleary-eyed. He stifled a yawn and stumbled off towards the showers. He reappeared several minutes later, looking sheepish and mumbling something about having forgotten his toiletries.

"You're up early, Harry," said a voice, the Irish lilt drifting across the room to Harry, sounding abnormally perky for this time of the morning. He turned and saw Seamus Finnigan's head peering out from behind his curtains.

"Yeah, I'm generally an early riser now. But I figure it's a good thing. Ron needs all the help he can get waking up." He waved his hand in the direction of his best friend's bed.

Seamus grinned. Ron was notorious for sleeping in, and had, on occasion, needed a bucket of cold water poured over him to ensure a proper wakeup. Seamus had been more than enthusiastic in performing this task. In the bed next to his there was a sudden rustle and Dean Thomas murmured, "Five minutes more, Mum?"

Harry and Seamus snickered. "Oi, Deannie!" Seamus hollered. "Your mammie ain't here, but if you're missing her, I'll tuck you in at night."

Dean appeared, trying to scowl, but only managing to look rather pink and embarrassed. He hurled a pillow in Seamus' direction, but considering the hour, his aim was understandably poor. The pillow flew across the tower room and collided with the drapes around Ron's bed. All three boys waited, but Ron slept on unaware of the ruckus happening on the other side of the curtains. Seamus' eyes gleamed and flickered towards the bucket that was standing beneath the window. The anticipation was palpable. Seamus grinned wickedly as he trotted off to the showers with Dean, still warbling about mothers and tuck-in-time.

Harry smiled to himself, and decided to take pity on his best friend. Waking up drenched in cold water and Seamus standing over you with a bucket was probably not the nicest way to enter a new day. He wandered over to Ron's bed and threw back the curtains. He shook Ron gently. "Hey, Ron, time to get up."

Ron mumbled something indistinguishable and rolled over.

"Ron, come on!" Harry said, shaking him roughly. Ron gave a little snore and continued to sleep.

"Ron!" he bellowed. Harry sighed, then said, "Oh, hello Hermione, what are you doing up here?"

Ron sat up immediately, blinking and looking around for the Head Girl.

"Sorry, sleepyhead, no such luck, it's just me."

"Oh, morning Harry," Ron muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Oh, I'm sooooo tired." He grumbled. "Hermione had me up half the night studying. It's still ages till we take the N.E.W.T.s....."

Harry smiled, as Ron dragged himself out of bed. Ron was always complaining about Hermione and her studious leanings, but Harry knew he really loved her.

Ron and Hermione had finally gotten together at Christmas last year, and Harry had been really happy for his two best friends. Everyone could see they were meant for each other, though it had taken the pair in question considerably longer to come to this realisation.

But since then, he had been a bit lonely. Ron and Hermione were always together, off being a couple, and while Harry was glad that they had found love, he couldn't help feeling a little jealous. He really wanted to find someone to share his life with.

He had always thought he would have found a girlfriend by now. Apart from Cho Chang, he had never really had a crush on a girl, and after fourth year, his crush on Cho had faded in a cloud of guilt over Cedric.

There's still time, he told himself. I'm bound to find the perfect girl for me this year.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he passed on his way to the door.

His hair was as unruly as ever, and there were faint circles around his eyes from lack of sleep. He looked at himself more critically. He looked pale and tired. A bit washed out. He sighed and automatically raised a hand to try and settle his hair.

"You're fighting a losing battle, there, dear," said the mirror with a chuckle.

"Don't I know it," Harry replied, and he trotted down to the common room to wait for Ron and Hermione.

*~*

Harry sat between Ron and Seamus, and pulled a plate of bacon and eggs towards him.

Halfway through his fourth mouthful, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Draco Malfoy swaggered in, flanked by his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry stared at Malfoy as he crossed the room to the Slytherin table. How does he manage to look so good, when he obviously had less sleep than me, Harry thought, frowning slightly. Wait, did I just think that? Did I just think that Malfoy looked good? Okay, what's that about? Why am I thinking about his looks, instead of pondering his fate as an evil Death Eater? No wait, why am I thinking about him at all?

Harry turned to Ron and engaged him in a discussion on Quidditch team for this year. While Ron was not a player, he was well known in Gryffindor Tower for being the mind behind the tactics.

"It's a good team, this year, and I've got some great plays for you to try with the Chasers," Ron was saying, halfway through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. On the other side of the table, his little sister Ginny winced.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Hermione scolded as she took her place beside Ginny, who nodded emphatically. Ron rolled his eyes, but closed his mouth anyway.

Seamus snickered. "Pussy whipped!" he whispered a little louder than necessary, leaning closer to Harry.

Harry tried not to smile, but a tiny one slipped out regardless. Neville and Ginny chuckled to themselves while Dean let out a hearty laugh. Ron went bright pink under his freckles and Hermione tutted disapprovingly. A similar thing happened every morning and Harry grinned to himself.

He finished his breakfast and the seventh year Gryffindors rose as one. As he left the Great Hall, he threw a look back at Malfoy. He was surprised to find himself looking straight into Malfoy's grey eyes. There was a brief moment before Malfoy recovered and shot Harry a sneer. Harry tore his eyes away and fell into step beside Neville.

The first part of the day passed smoothly for Harry. He yawned his way through History of Magic, and groaned and laughed his way through Divination, managing to emerge with only two predictions of his death.

He and Ron were still chuckling at Professor Trelawney's latest attempt to terrify him with her prophecies when they sat down to lunch. "Rampaging centaurs? Honestly, what a fraud!"

"What do we have after lunch?" Ron asked through a mouthful of mashed potato, then closed his mouth hurriedly as Hermione appeared.

"Double Potions," said Hermione, sitting down beside him. There was a collective groan from the seventh year Gryffindors.

"Great, Snape and the Slytherins!" Ron moaned, accidentally spraying Neville with Yorkshire Pudding. "Oops. Sorry, Nev."

Halfway through lunch, Harry's eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table again. He suddenly noticed that Malfoy wasn't there. He glanced up at the teacher's table, and saw that Snape was also absent. His eyes narrowed.

Beside him, Hermione was nagging Ron about his Transfiguration homework, which seemed to be incomplete. Apparently, studying had not been all they were doing last night.

"Okay, okay!" Ron finally caved in, and allowed Hermione to drag him up to the library to finish it.

"We'll see you in Potions!" he called to Harry as he disappeared.

*~*

Harry finished his lunch and wandered out of the hall alone. Unconscious of where he was going, he wandered for ten minutes, finally realizing that his feet had taken him down to the dungeons.

Why am I here when I don't need to be here for another fifteen minutes? he asked himself, when suddenly he heard raised voices coming from the Potions classroom. Wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak with him, he crept closer and paused outside the door.

"I'm fine, really!" Malfoy exclaimed heatedly on the other side of the door.

"Draco, I know what the Dark Lord is capable of, so don't tell me you're fine and expect me to believe you!" Snape's voice was soft and he sounded worried.

"I can look after myself, Sev, I've been doing it all my life!"

Since when does Malfoy call Snape 'Sev'? Harry wondered. Probably since they became Death Eater brothers-in-arms.

"Fine, be like that! I'm just worried about you Draco. The Dark Lord is a nasty bastard, and he'd kill you in an instant."

"I know, I've got the marks to prove it!" Harry could hear the sneer in Malfoy's voice.

"All I'm saying," Snape persisted, "is that it's not too late to back out now. No one would think any less of you. I can handle it alone."

"I want to... I have to," Malfoy replied, his voice determined.

"Fine. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Where were you the first seventeen years of my life?" Malfoy sounded angry and hurt.

"Draco..." Snape began, but he trailed off, apparently lost for words. There was an awkward pause, before Snape continued softly. Harry leant closer, straining to hear his words.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I - " but Draco cut him off. "I know. Forget it, it doesn't matter now."

Snape sighed. Harry bent down and pressing his forehead against the solid wooden door, peered through the keyhole. Malfoy and Snape were standing by Snape's desk, facing each other. Snape's hand was gripping Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy had his back to Harry, so he couldn't read his face, but Snape looked both guilty and worried.

"Look, being a spy is not all heroics and glory. It's dangerous, and even if we win this war, you'll be shunned by everyone because of what they think you are." Harry nearly fell over. Spy?

"I know it's not all heroics, and I don't want that. I'm not some bloody Gryffindor. And shunned or not, at least I won't resort to hiding in a dungeon!" Harry could imagine this statement was accompanied by Malfoy's trademark smirk.

Snape bowed his head, and Harry was surprised to see a faint smile hovering around the Potion Master's lips.

"Very well, Draco." He sighed. "Have you been to see Dumbledore about the meeting last night?"

"Saw him this morning before breakfast. I didn't have much to tell him, though..."

"HARRY!" a voice called. Harry straightened up hurriedly, banging his head against the ornate copper door handle. He spun around. Ron, Hermione and Neville were coming down the corridor, their footsteps and cheerful chatter drifting towards him.

Inside the room, Harry heard a muttered curse, and before he could move away from the door it was flung open. Snape stood there, his eyes blazing. Behind him, Malfoy looked pale and shocked.

"Potter!" Snape spat. "You're early!" And he swept away to his desk.

For a moment, Harry and Malfoy stared at each other, then Malfoy turned and went to sit down.

Ron, Hermione and Neville joined him in the doorway. Neville was beginning to quake already.

"Well, are we going to go and sit down?" Hermione asked, motioning Harry inside the classroom. Harry stole a glance at Malfoy as he sat down. He was sitting in the front row, his hands folded on the desk, his eyes forward, resolutely not looking at Harry.

The classroom slowly filled with the remaining Gryffindors and Slytherins. As Snape began to drone on about Revitalising Potions, Harry let his mind wander back to the conversation he had just over heard.

Malfoy, a spy? Had the world gone mad? Snape kept glaring at him. He knows. He knows I heard everything. What's he going to do to me? Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was expertly preparing his ingredients. What's his deal? Why would he become a spy? He's always been such a bastard to me.

Ah, but not so much lately, huh, said another part of Harry's brain. Harry thought about this.

It was true. Since the end of fourth year, Malfoy had been quieter, more subdued. Harry hadn't really noticed - he'd been too busy worrying about Voldemort. Sure, there had been plenty of scathing remarks and the odd scuffle, but now he thought about it, all those 'fights' had been started by Ron. Malfoy had just been provoked into responding. Harry stared at the back of Malfoy's silver head. What brought on this change?

Suddenly he was jolted out of his thoughts as Ron elbowed him, and nodded towards the front. Snape was bearing down on him.

"Potter! Are you here to brew potions or daydream?" His voice was deathly quiet.

"Brew potions?" he ventured.

"Then do it!" Snape snapped at him. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention for your lack of attention, and insubordination!"

Harry sighed and set about preparing his potion. Great, just what I need. A detention with Snape, right after he catches me eavesdropping on him. I'm so dead.

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