Your First Year Wet Himself

Draco was tired of walking. Once the boys had returned from the... unfortunate karaoke incident, he had immediately gathered up his stuff, shoved in into his bag, and stalked off down the road leaving Harry behind. It was a mile or two before he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was going, and had to wait by the side of the road for Harry. When said boy arrived, Draco resumed his silent walk despite Harry's strangled giggles.

Now, three days and no words later, Draco was getting tired of not insulting Harry and his legs burned. They had stopped briefly for sleep, (or lack there of, it was only four bloody hours a night) and Draco was soon reminded why it was Harry Potter that was the savior of the wizarding world, not him. Any woman he ends up with is going to be damn lucky, with stamina like this, he thought. Then, he mentally slapped himself for thinking about Harry's sex life, and distracted himself with images of Ginny naked. That peep hole in the boys Quidditch locker rooms wasn't there for nothing, you know.

Draco wasn't paying attention as the boys crested the top of the hill, and so he was slightly miffed when Harry grabbed him and pulled him to the ground.

"What was MMMMFFF!!?" Draco attempted to bite Harry's hand as it was slapped over his mouth, but stopped when he saw what he was looking at.

At the bottom of the hill was a semi-large castle, nothing to Hogwarts, of course, but still quite a lot larger then Harry's cupboard, anyway. He figured his opinions on large and small might be a bit distorted. Harry glanced down and under himself. He quite hoped they weren't, he decided.

Dead, disfigured muggles hung from the castle walls like the banners that hung from over the house tables back at Hogwarts. Harry heard Draco's sharp intake of breath and removed his hand. Around the perimeters, they could see anywhere from three to six wizards in bottle-black robes with the hoods drawn up over their heads. Harry bent down to check the map Dumbledore had given him. It was no ordinary map. It would show the location of the person one most wanted to find. Right now, he most wanted to find Ginny. But who would it be after that? Harry thought of his parents, and Sirius. You can't find dead people, he thought, can you?

A slight whimper to his left returned him to the present. Draco had gone beyond pale, he was nearly about to faint. His knuckles were white, and Harry could see the blood leaking out from where he clenched his nails into his fists. He reached a tentative hand over, and patted the now shaking boy on the back.

"I didn't know they did this," the boy blurted out.

Harry was surprised; he had always figured Draco to be the next generation of muggle-killers, even if he wasn't in with his father and Voldemort. But the more he thought, the more he realized that Draco wasn't that kind of person. He would be too lazy for this, Harry decided. But then, why accompany me for six days on a trip to rescue some girl he hardly even knows?

Harry shook his head. What Draco did, or didn't do was none of his business, providing no one died or anything. Speaking of Draco, he thought, and turned to his left to see if he had stopped shaking, or, lack there of.

Draco was gone.

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Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts........

McGonagall was deathly pale as she paced the office.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore questioned, "What is it?"

"I figured it out," she replied, and went, if that's possible, even paler.

"Figured what out?" Remus Lupin demanded, he face was, in contrast to McGonagall's, red and blotchy, as if he had been crying.

McGonagall stopped, and turned to face him.

"Why Ginny's been taken. And where Harry's gone."

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Ron and Hermione made their way slowly back to their dorms.

"Dumbledore would tell us, if something happened to Harry, right?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking.

"Of course, 'Mione, I mean, we're his best friends!" Despite the reassuring words, Ron's inner turmoil was just as brutal as Hermione's.

The couple reached the portrait hole, and slowly clambered in, Ron unconsciously slipping a hand around Hermione's waist to help her. He blushed a bright red when he realized it, and attempted to remove it. He blushed even deeper, all the way to the tips of his ears, when Hermione covered it with her own. She turned to face him.

"I'm really scared, Ron." Her face was inches from his; he could smell her breath on his face, on his lips. She smelled like honey, and books, and something else, something he couldn't quite place but he knew had to be uniquely her own. Flyaway brown hair tickled his nose, and he wanted to sneeze. DON'T! He thought, you'll ruin the moment, you big moron, and then you may never get her back, and...

His thoughts were cut off as soft, slightly chapped lips ghosted his own. His eyes fluttered shut, and he figured, If this is what happens every time Harry goes away on a mission, I hope he never comes back!