The Spaces Between Shadows & Night

by: Silver Prophet
the combined talents of:
silverphoenix & poetic licence

Bill led Harry, Hermione and Dean up to Professor Dumbledore's office. The password this time was 'Fizzing Whizbee'. Dumbledore certainly had an obsession with sweets of all kinds.

He looked different than he had done at the feast. Weaker, and older, like he had done after the Tri Wizard Tournament. Dumbledore looked almost frail, but his eyes lit up when the three Gryffindors and his newest member of staff entered the room.

"Thank you, William. You may go." Bill nodded and left quickly. Dumbledore then turned his attention to the three students. He cast a glance over the three of them, and Harry could have sworn that he looked almost disappointed. "I understand that you do not wish to remain a Prefect, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I don't believe I would be able to fulfil the duties properly."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Very well. In that case, Mr Thomas, I would like to offer the position of Gryffindor Prefect to you."

Dean looked surprised. Obviously Dumbledore hadn't written to Dean suggesting this. "Thank you, Professor," he managed to choke out after a moment.

Harry pulled his Prefect's badge out of his pocket, holding it out to Dean. "You'll need this." Dean picked the silver badge from Harry's hands which, on close inspection, were covered in tiny paper cuts.

"I suggest that the three of you return to your Common Room," Dumbledore said as Dean quickly pinned the badge onto his robes. "You shouldn't wander the corridors at night."

The three of them walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room at quite a fast speed. If Harry hadn't known any better he'd say that Hermione was trying to rush him.

It all became clear when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that something was going on. The Fat Lady granted access to the Common Room only when given the right password, though occasionally she would go for a walk (or to gossip with her talkative friend Violet, another portrait) thus leaving unfortunate Gryffindors stranded outside unless someone decided to exit the Common Room or she returned.

She giggled slightly, before asking the password. "Wimbledon," Hermione told her. Harry gave Hermione a confused look. She shrugged. "Apparently McGonagall has a thing for tennis." Harry raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pursue the subject further. "After you," said Hermione waving a hand towards the portrait hole.

Slightly confused, Harry clambered through the hole, Hermione and Dean (who had a rather dazed grin on his face) right behind him.

Harry was greeted by a deafening roar from his house mates and he heard a group of them begin to sing 'Happy Birthday'. Harry turned to Hermione and Ron (who had emerged from the crowd, a grin on his freckled face), a confused looking playing across his face. "What's going on? It's not my birthday."

"We thought you deserved a birthday party," Ron explained, handing Harry a bottle of Butterbeer.

"I don't want a party," said Harry quickly. Luckily for him the rest of the Gryffindors weren't paying much attention to him now: they had begun chatting between themselves and several (including Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson) were dancing to music that was coming from a Wizard Wireless.

"But we want to give you one, Harry," Hermione told him earnestly. "Just enjoy it. Plus, you get presents."

She grinned, pointing at a table that had been stacked with a multitude of presents. When Harry had opened them all, he had gifts ranging from a pocket Foe Glass (he was planning on putting this beside his bed) to an actual Golden Snitch - a present from the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry had a feeling that it was mainly from Fred and George though - he had given his winnings from the Tri Wizard Tournament to them: one thousand Galleons.

At one point Harry had even snuck out of the party - he had needed the peace and quiet that the corridors held at night. Everything seemed so much calmer at night when the students were in their Common Rooms.

For someone who had spent the summer in virtual solitary confinement, peace and quiet was something that Harry relished. The view out of the windows seemed different at night: Harry had spent a good five minutes just staring out at the lake from the second floor.

It was nearly midnight when Harry stumbled into bed (Ron had forced quite a few Butterbeers at Harry who didn't have the energy to decline them).

He couldn't sleep, though. It was almost as if he was too tired to sleep, but at the same time he felt as wide awake as ever.

Just as he was finally managing to drop off, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Harry shot out of bed like lightning, his wand clutched in his hand and glasses on before he could even comprehend the situation.

George Weasley stared at him, his eyes wide. "Blimey, Harry. It's obvious why you're Seeker, isn't it?"

"What's going on? What time is it? Why are you in my dormitory?"

"Whoa - one question at a time! Quidditch practice. Five o'clock. Angelina sent me."

"Why did Angelina send you?"

"She's the new Captain. Get dressed - she wants you down on the Quidditch Pitch in five minutes." George disappeared before Harry could say anything else. Groaning, he fumbled around in the darkness trying to find his training robes. He left the room quietly, and started down the stairs before realising he had forgotten something important - his Firebolt. Broomsticks were pretty much essential for Quidditch.

After collecting his broom, Harry raced down to the Quidditch Pitch where the rest of the team were warming up. "Who's the new girl?" Harry asked Fred, nodding in the direction of an auburn-haired witch, who Harry recognised as a seventh year. She looked to be half asleep, and kept shooting evil looks in Angelina's direction when the new Captain wasn't looking.

"Matilda Thistlebury. She's the reserve Keeper. Angelina asked her to come to practice until we get a new Keeper," Fred told him quietly.

"So why isn't she the new Keeper?"

"That's her business," Fred told him sharply. His tone of voice told Harry that he should drop the subject immediately.

"Okay, people, gather round!" Angelina ordered. With a collective groan, the rest of them crowded round her. Alicia and Katie seemed to be leaning on each other for support. Katie appeared to be falling asleep standing up. "This year we are going to win," she said fiercely. "Nothing is going to stop us, not even some has-been Dark Lord." Harry grinned. He knew there was a reason why he liked this girl. "If you thought Oliver Wood was a slave driver, you haven't seen anything yet."

Surveying her team, Angelina gave a few more orders, then said, "Matilda is filling in for us until we get Wood's replacement so remember to treat her like a member of the team. Matilda, we're going to have a mini-game - you up for it?"

Matilda glared at her, obviously not happy at being awake before six o'clock in the morning. She wasn't a morning person, anyone could tell that. She gave Angelina a mock Nazi salute. "Ja mein Fuhrer."

Angelina ignored her and turned to Harry. "Do you think it's light enough for you to find the Snitch?"

"I'm up for a challenge."

"Good."

As tired as Harry was, there was something so incredibly exhilarating about flying at half past five in the morning. He had gone from one extreme to another: being trapped in a small space with little movement for virtually all of eight weeks then being in the air again, where he had all the freedom he wanted.

At that particular moment in time nothing felt as good as riding the fastest broom in the world at the fastest speed in the world. Harry heard a couple of shrieks from the girls as he sped past them - they had clearly forgotten, in the absence of last years Quidditch, just how fast he could go. He managed to catch the Snitch in about thirty seconds.

Releasing the small winged ball, Harry paused to watch the rest of the team. It was as if they had never been away. Matilda seemed to blend seamlessly in with the team, and Harry was amazed that she wasn't going to be on the team permanently.

When Angelina finally called practice to an end, at nearly eight o'clock, Harry decided to corner Matilda. She didn't seem quite so grouchy now she had woken up a bit.

Jogging to keep up with her (she walking surprisingly fast), Harry managed to asked, "So why aren't you Oliver's replacement? You're just as good as him. Better, even."

She stopped walking abruptly. "Because I can't. I get ill. Sometimes I even black out. I did that once and nearly broke my neck. Anyway, I might not even be around by the end of the season."

"Why not?" Harry pressed. She has talent and she's letting it go to waste? Harry was surprised. Someone who could play Quidditch as well as her should have been playing professionally when she left school.

"Harry, unless you want to be mauled by my broomstick," she held up her Cleansweep 7 threateningly, "I suggest you drop the subject." So he did.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for Harry in the Great Hall. Harry took a seat, and Hermione passed him a plate of food that he accepted hungrily. Digging in, he could hear Ron going on about how he was going to try out for Keeper.

Seeing Hermione's bored expression (though she was hiding it well, Harry had to admit), Harry tried to change the subject. "Have our timetables come yet?"

Hermione smiled gratefully at him. "Yes. Here's yours." She passed Harry his then paused. Harry could tell there was something she wasn't telling him.

"What is it?"

She bit her lip. "Well, Dumbledore wants to build inter-house relations, so they've kind of mixed up our classes."

"Mixed up?"

"Let me put it this way; we won't be having Potions with just Slytherins. It'll be Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's as well."

"Yeah, I'm in hardly any of the same classes as you or Hermione," Ron grumbled through a mouthful of toast. He swallowed then passed his timetable. Comparing the two, Harry saw that they had very few lessons together. Ron reached over and pulled his timetable out of Harry's hands. He shoved it roughly into his bag and stood up. "I'd better go. I've got History of Magic in..." he looked at his watch, "five minutes ago."

"What's your first lesson?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Herbology. You?"

That was a relief. "Same. We'd better get going." Hermione nodded.

Professor Sprout was waiting for the class outside of Greenhouse One. As Hermione had said, their class was a mixture of the four houses. Harry spotted some people he knew, such as Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff Harry had worked with before and Padma Patil, who had been Ron's date to the Yule Ball. Draco Malfoy was also there.

"I hope he's not in too many of my classes," Harry muttered to Hermione. Seeing who Harry was talking about, she frowned.

"Don't let him get you, Harry."

"He's always staring at me!"

"Maybe it's because he thinks you're so incredibly handsome?" Hermione teased.

"Please don't say that, Hermione! You'll give me more nightmares than I've already got!"

"You have nightmares?" Hermione sounding genuinely concerned. "Harry? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Harry hissed, as Professor Sprout began to address the class, not really listening to what she was saying. Hermione eyed him suspiciously, before turning her attention to the professor.

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Ron! Wait!" Harry calls fell on deaf ears as Ron stormed through the Common Room, ignoring everyone in his path. Ron had slammed the Fat Lady's portrait shut after him (much to her chagrin), so when Harry scrambled through a few seconds later, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"He went up to the dormitory." Harry turned to see Hermione stood by his shoulder.

"How upset did he look?" asked Harry, not quite sure he wanted to know.

"Absolutely fuming. He didn't make the team, did he?"

Harry shook his head. Ron had, as he had said, tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. As good as he had been, and with Fred and George's influences on the Captain, Madam Hooch had decreed that Seamus Finnigan, a sandy-haired fifth-year, and best friend of Dean Thomas, had got the coveted Keeper's spot.

"You should let him cool down a bit," Hermione advised. "Clear his head a bit."

"Do you want a game of chess?" Harry asked. Hermione bit her lip.

"I'm actually already in the middle of a game," she admitted. Looking over her shoulder, Harry saw George and Fred Weasley staring intently at a chess board.

"You're playing both of them?"

"They need all the help they can get." Hermione was nowhere as near as good as Ron when it came to chess, but judging by the number of black pieces left on the board (Hermione was clearly playing white) Fred and George were completely useless.

After about half an hour (Harry decided to help the twins beat Hermione), Ron emerged from the boys staircase, a copy of Hogwarts, a History tucked under his arm and his battered school bag over his shoulder.

He settled himself down at a nearby table, seemingly refusing to meet anybody's eyes. Scowling to himself, he started leafing through the book. A few minutes later he gave an exasperated sigh and slammed the book shut.

"Problem?" asked George.

"Binns is making us read a chapter of this stupid book and write an essay about it. I can't work out which is the shortest chapter, though," Ron explained, still not looking at Harry.

"Chapter Twelve," Harry and Hermione answered in unison. Ron and Hermione stared at Harry; Ron in disbelief and Hermione with a sort of pride.

"I'm impressed," Hermione told him. "How did you know that?"

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd even read Hogwarts, a History," Ron said.

Harry shrugged. "I spent a lot of time studying. There wasn't a lot more I could do." He held out his hands, which apart from looking like they were covered in tracing paper, were covered in a multitude of tiny paper cuts. "As testified by the number of cuts I got."

Hermione grinned. "You'll build up an immunity," she said, taking a closer look at his hands. "Don't worry about it." She turned back to the chess game, and moved her Bishop. There was a commotion on the board as the Bishop took Fred and George's Queen. Hermione smiled smugly at them.

"You two could have easily prevented that," commented Ron.

"We're not geniuses like you!" protested Fred.

Ron looked slightly flustered. "I'm not a genius," he protested.

"'Course you are," said Hermione earnestly. "It takes a very logical mind to play chess as well as you do - look at me: I'm a load of rubbish!"

"Your face is clashing with your hair," warned George. Sure enough, Ron's face was turning very red at the compliment. It wasn't everyday that Hermione complimented someone on their intelligence. Ron scowled at his brother, and started flicking through Hogwarts, a History, evidently trying to find Chapter Twelve.

Ron, relieved at seeing the length of the chapter (five pages, and half of them were full of pictures), managed to finish his required three feet of parchment in no time.

Hermione managed to win the chess game in another three moves, even with Harry helping the twins.

Looking back on the last four years, all three of them had changed. Some people, on the other hand, hadn't.

Potions was one lesson that the three of them had together, the other being Care of Magical Creatures.

Professor Snape was as vindictive as ever, and his hatred of Harry certainly hadn't lessened over the summer. The only thing about the Head of Slytherin that seemed to have altered was the fact that he seemed at nasty to the Slytherin students as he was to students of other houses.

He certainly did not seem at all happy about the rearranging of his classes. He was even less happy to see Harry, Ron and Hermione together in his class (they were the only Gryffindors) and his first course of action was to split them up.

Hermione was sat next to a girl from Slytherin with black hair called Alena Rhyson, whom Harry knew by sight, and that was about it. They seemed to be getting on well enough, both wary to begin with, and Ron was sat next to a boy from Ravenclaw called Henry, whom Harry didn't recognise at all.

After Snape's lesson (which involved making so many notes that Harry could hardly keep up), Harry somehow managed to get separated from Hermione and Ron.

As he was making his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he was swamped by a group of excitable girls, all begging for his autograph. This wasn't the first time it had happened either; it happened the day before when Harry was walking from Herbology with Hermione to Divination.

Hermione had stood back, and as Harry had tried to deal with them all, she had burst out laughing, finding the situation absolutely hilarious.

She seemed to know what had happened when Harry clambered through the portrait, and it was obvious she was trying not to crack up. Ron, too, was sniggering, meaning that Hermione must have told him.

"Your fans attack you again, Harry?" she asked. Harry nodded miserably, sinking into a seat beside her.

"I really wish people wouldn't do that," he told her. And I wish she wouldn't find it so funny.

"Harry, just be glad you're not famous in the Muggle world - imagine all the merchandising!" she warned.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, your name would be everywhere - books, posters, stationary, kitchen roll..."

"D'you want me to curse you?" Harry asked, sounding exasperated. "You know how much I hate all this attention."

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Sit vis nobiscum," he told the Fat Lady. That was the current password. According to Hermione, it was the Latin for 'may the Force be with you'. It had taken a long time for Hermione to explain what this meant to Ron, and Harry had been sure that a row would emerge from it.

Amazingly, one didn't.

Harry groaned at the sight before him as the Fat Lady swung open. Famous last words.

"You have got completely the wrong end of the stick!" Hermione looked livid, and Ron wasn't much better.

"Well, how do explain yourself then! You're with him all the time! How am I not supposed to think that?"

"Hello? I'm one of his best friends and we're in a lot of the same classes? And while we're on the subject, you don't seem to even care about him? You hardly ever talk to him any more."

Ron looked simply furious at this accusation. "Of course I talk to him!"

"No, Ron. I mean really talk to him. Do you even know what he did this summer? What happened to him? Did you know that he has hardly slept for the last few weeks?"

The redhead's face fell. "I, uh, I..."

Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at Ron. "I thought not."

Hermione bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. Ron, however, reacted slightly differently to Harry's interruption.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "Don't you trust me?"

"Ron, I..."

"No, Harry, I don't want to hear it." Ron turned and fled up to the boy's dormitories.

Hermione licked her lips nervously. "Are you all right?"

"As well as can be expected. What was the fight about?"

She shrugged. "He accused me of shutting him out. Says we've been spending too much time together. That's a load of bull if you ask me..."

"I'm not," said Harry shortly.

Hermione merely blinked. "Okay." She took a step forward, so that she was standing directing in front of Harry. She drew herself up to her full height (about half a head shorter than Harry), trying to look authoritative. "You're coming with me to the Hospital Wing."

"What? Why?"

"Because this lack of sleep is making you ill. I've already spoken to Madam Pomfrey. She says she'll give you a dreamless sleep potion if you really need it."

Harry sighed. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes round. "Please?" she begged.

"Okay," agreed Harry. Maybe this won't be took bad.

The brunette grinned, and grabbed Harry by the arm, practically pulling him out of the Common Room. They were just passing near the Prefect's bathroom when Hermione stopped.

"Oh, shit. Harry, I left my Charms book in the classroom earlier. Can you wait here while I get it?"

Harry nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be fine by myself." Hermione gave Harry a grateful smile, then rushed back in the direction that they had just come in. She's faster than I thought, Harry realised.

Looking out of the nearest window, Harry saw that it was a full moon. He couldn't help but think of Remus Lupin and what he must have been going through. Then again, he does have Sirius with him.

"What are you doing out here by yourself, Potter? Where's your little sheep dog?" Harry could recognise that amused drawl anywhere.

"Is the magnificent Harry Potter to afraid to fight back?" asked Malfoy, taking a step closer. He punched Harry lightly on the shoulder. Harry staggered back slightly and Harry noticed that Malfoy was surprised at his own strength, or at least, how weak Harry was.

"No, I'm just too mature to bother fighting with a bully like you." Harry's tone was firm and the sort of voice that heeded no nonsense.

Harry noticed Hermione reappear. She stood behind Malfoy, who had not noticed her, and listened to them.

"Tut tut, Potter. Don't resort to name calling. That's so immature."

Hermione frowned, then tapped Malfoy sharply on the shoulder. Malfoy turned, surprised, and she greeted him with by a solid punch to his jaw. He fell, his head hitting the hard stone floor.

Smiling, Hermione moved over to Harry, careful to step on Malfoy as she did so.

"You just punched Malfoy." Harry was at a loss for words. I can't believe she did that. Harry glanced at Malfoy's unconscious figure. But why do I feel guilty? Something about this just isn't right.

"And I feel so much better for it," Hermione remarked, linking her arm through Harry's. "Come on Harry, the Hospital Wing awaits us."

Feeling strangely numb, Harry allowed Hermione to lead the way, leaving Draco Malfoy sprawled out in the middle of the corridor, his ash-blonde hair catching the moonlight, not stirring a millimetre.

~~ ~~~ ~~
TBC
~~ ~~~ ~~

I can't believe that she knocked me out! Well, knocked Shadows!Draco out anyway. I told you all that Hermione was going to do something unexpected thought, didn't I? Oh, who cares anyway - apart from me...she just left poor Shadows!Draco lying there! (Shadows!Harry sniggers quietly behind Shadows!Draco back).

As I seem to have been made the official "Note Writer" - I better bloody well get on with it, hadn't I? Huge, huge, huge thanks to all our reviewers so far:- Val Mora - yes, I do moo on the occasion, usually when I've had too much to drink - Anne Phoenix - Avalon Princess - JadeDragon - chrisseee667 - beautiful disaster - bwaybaby79 - JaneyLane - LanaMariah - AkkiNeko

Thank you to Natasha, who got this chapter to me while I was dying somewhere between angst (my job is chaotic), fluffy stuff (with my new Harry/Draco buddy, Angie) and writing madness (my housemate hates me...as well as my stints on the computer at 3am). For someone who claims to have had writers' block, she did a remarkable job.

Next Harry chapter you might not have to put up with me doing the notes: I've decided it's definitely Tasha's turn.

Features a self-pitying Draco (a very rare species indeed). A stupid pyjama top that won't go on (and may play a huge part later on). Sparing from both sides of the (ehrm, dare I say it?) fence. A revelation of sorts, and lots and lots of dialogue (which I suck at by the way, in case any of you are interested...thought not). Also included: insults, quick thinking, and lots of dialogue (did I mention...wait, yes I did. Never mind).

Please R&R