The True Nature of Love

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I and you are you,
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow,
laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Pray smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort,
without the trace of a shadow in it.

Life means all that it ever meant,
it is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity,
why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you
somewhere very near
just around the corner.
All is well

Henry Scott Holland 1847-1918
Canon of St Paul's Cathedral

The True Nature of Love

Chapter One

Snow was falling in soft swirls as Harry looked out of his window. The sight of snow flurries always mesmerized Harry, particularly when he found himself deep in thought. He sighed and looked at his surroundings--he was at the Hillside Inn, located in Hogsmeade. Staying at a magical inn was interesting to say the least. Each room was equipped with the ability to 'read' the likes and dislikes of each occupant and change accordingly. When he had walked into the room earlier that evening, he watched in amusement as the bed clothes, flooring, window dressings and furnishings changed to match his preferences--deep burgundy, dark, rich gold, and burnt orange--the colors of autumn. It was like watching the ripples radiate outward in a body of water after a pebble or raindrop falls in. Harry had looked forward to autumn since he first received his Hogwarts letter. Autumn signaled his return to Hogwarts and the people he considered his true family.

Sitting there looking at the snow fall, Harry found it hard to believe that his time at Hogwarts would soon be coming to an end. He had grown up so much since he received his letter inviting him to attend Hogwarts. He was now a seventh year--a mere term stood between him and graduation. Looking back, the eleven year old boy who was bursting with excitement and nervous energy seemed like another person to Harry. That boy couldn't have known the challenges he would face or the sacrifices he would make a few years later. Not just in the physical sense, but as a human being. He'd had to deal with the loss of his parents all over again when he learned the details concerning their deaths, he'd faced Voldemort time after time and narrowly escaped with his life, and he had lost his godfather.

Although close to two years had passed since Sirius' death, Harry still carried the loss with him. Another hard lesson of life; all those comforting things people say when you lose someone you care about...they're all lies. Lies he had clung to like a drowning man for months after Sirius died. Lies that it would get better, that he would accept it, that it wasn't his fault, and the pain would fade. Harry kept waiting for this miraculous day to arrive, and it hadn't as of yet.

The reality was that Sirius' involvement and sudden departure from his life defined who he was as much as being raised by the Dursleys had. It shaped the young man of seventeen that Harry now was. His passing had also led to Harry forming a close relationship with Remus Lupin--Harry's last tie to his parents (not including Wormtail of course). After Sirius died, Remus had made a point of sending Harry an owl every other week. On top of that, Remus had gone out of his way to tell and show Harry all he could about his parents. It was as if Sirius' death reminded him that no one is promised tomorrow--that was one mantra Harry knew to be true.

So, Harry had uncovered the lies and discovered a few truths on his own. The pain of Sirius' death didn't really fade; it became something else wholly indefinable and merged with what is 'Harry'. It had made him stronger and more resilient, and he didn't accept his godfather's death or Voldemort's more recent attempts to break him...it just made his resolve to end Voldemort's reign stronger.

After some time had passed, he had managed to return to some semblance of his former self...his 'Before Sirius' Death' self. He still loved Quidditch and adored his friends, and he actually had a new drive to learn about magic for the sheer sake of learning. Before, he had only been motivated by exams and Hermione's never-ending nagging, but now he was aware that he needed to be prepared for his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort. Finding obscure spells and charms gave Harry a kind of rush. Had he been this motivated since first year, he suspected he might have given Hermione a run for her money.

Harry was jolted out of his pensive state when he realized the shower had stopped running. Standing up from the bay window, he glanced at the clock on the wall. How long can one person be in the damn shower?

As this thought ran through his mind, the door to the bathroom opened. Harry had a quick case of vertigo as the room changed color schemes again. This time he was surrounded by neutral shades; the floor was now a rich cherry wood and the duvet was now cream with gold specks laced throughout. The rest of the room was decorated in similar colours, but Harry wasn't really paying much attention to his surroundings anymore.

"Care to towel dry my hair?" Draco asked him, dripping wet from his hour long shower.

Harry wondered if he could manage to look as good with nothing but a towel draped around his waist, then answered, "I suggest you do it yourself, rich boy. I'm liable to give you cause for another shower if you don't get some clothes on."

Draco shot him a look of mock innocence before mumbling, 'Where are house elves when you need them?"

It took Harry a second to process what Draco had just said. He looked at him incredulously and asked, "Are you telling me that Dobby dried your hair?!?"

Not missing a beat, Draco replied, "Well, of course he did--that's what house elves are for."

He said this as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a pointy-nosed, floppy-eared, squeaky-voiced creature to dry someone's hair. Harry barely had time to laugh at the scenario forming in his mind because Draco, never one to heed Harry's advice, stalked toward him in all of his dripping wet glory. As Draco stood before him, so close that Harry could make out the individual beads of water clinging to his chest, he couldn't help but wonder, how the hell did we get here? The thought evaporated as he was pulled into Draco's embrace.

~~~~~

Harry and his fellow N.E.W.T. classmates sat anxiously in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Gossip abounded as to who was going to be their new professor. The lack of a new face at the High Table the previous evening had not gone unnoticed; everyone had expected to get a glimpse of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at the welcoming feast. Making the situation even more mysterious, Dumbledore failed to even mention the vacant position. Some poor misguided souls actually thought Harry would be their teacher. Harry got a good laugh from that theory. He had considered continuing with D.A. meetings if their new professor was as hopeless as Umbridge, but he was hoping that wouldn't be the case. His classmates were concerned though, and for good reason. As sixth years, they knew how important the last two years of Defense Against the Dark Arts training would be. Not to mention the fact that Voldemort was back to his terrorizing ways.

Harry glanced over at Hermione who, keeping with five years of tradition, was sitting beside him; but Ron's usual seat was empty. He had been assigned to the other N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts section. His absence made Harry feel a bit odd; he was reminded of their fourth year when Ron and he had argued. That was the only time when they hadn't sat together in class.

The positive aspect of the different sections was the absence of Draco Malfoy. He was in Ron's section and Harry noted with smug satisfaction that Pansy Parkinson and Greg Crabbe were sitting in the back of the classroom. Draco without one of his bookends 'o flesh was a pleasant thought; though for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out how Crabbe had managed an 'Exceeds Expectations' on his O.W.L. Even now he was wearing his trademark 'I don't know what the hell is going on' expression. Harry's thoughts trailed off as all eyes shot to the door.

"Ah, a new year begins," Professor Dumbledore said, walking into the classroom with a customary twinkle in his eyes.

"Are you here to introduce our new professor, Headmaster?" Hermione asked.

"Indeed I am," came Dumbledore's reply. "Allow me to introduce myself, Professor Albus Dumbledore, at your service."

A buzz of excited chatter filled the room as his classmates discussed this latest development. Harry, though not entirely pleased to see the Headmaster up close so soon after the prophecy bombshell, was relieved. At least they would have a competent professor this year. He couldn't fathom trying to learn everything on his own in addition to being Quidditch captain, and juggling his hectic class schedule.

"Well, we couldn't have a repeat of last year's events, now could we?" joked Dumbledore, the twinkle clearly evident to everyone in the room now. "So," he continued, "we will just pretend that last year didn't happen and pick up from Mr. Moody, er, Crouch's lessons."

This statement provoked chuckles from most of the class, though Harry could tell that the Slytherins didn't find it terribly funny.

"As you had--substandard teaching last term, I want to start this year by refreshing everyone's recollection of spells you might encounter in an altercation. Let's begin with spells that might be useful to someone at your current level...any suggestions?"

Harry felt a slight twinge of pride as all of the D.A. members in his class raised their hands. He had been ecstatic when he learned that the D.A. members in his year had all gotten into N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. In less than five minutes, Dumbledore had a slew of charms, curses, counter-curses and incantations on the board: Susan suggested protego to block the affects of an unfriendly curse; Neville offered stupefy to stun an attacker and expelliarmus to disarm; Ernie explained impedimenta while Hermione suggested petrificus totalus.

Professor Dumbledore was quite pleased with everyone. "Excellent suggestions, some people wouldn't think to use--yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, I just thought I would add accio wand--you know? Why duel when you can just take away your opponent's wand. Nip it in the bud, so to speak."

The class erupted into laughter at Harry's suggestion. Professor Dumbledore put it on the board.

"Excellent point, Mr. Potter, particularly if you have thrown them off balance with a stunning spell or the like beforehand. Now, I'll add the Unforgivable Curses as a reminder of what you will likely be facing." With a flick of his wand, Crucio, Avada Kedavra, and Imperio appeared on the board.

"Now, you may be asking yourselves, what can a simple second year spell help me accomplish?" he paused as a few people nodded at his inquiry. "As recent events have shown," he glanced in Harry's direction, "one does not need to use the most advanced Dark Magic to escape an attack safely. The most important lesson I can teach is to keep your wits about you."

Seamus, who was seated behind Harry along with Neville, mumbled, "That sounds an awful lot like constant vigilance!"

Harry almost choked, but he kept a straight face and listened to Dumbledore's words.

"Now", Dumbledore continued, "we will of course learn more advanced spells later in this course, but I want to make sure you have a firm grasp on the many scenarios in which these simple spells can aid you. This brings us to the first assignment."

Hermione seemed to come to attention at the mention of homework. Harry groaned inaudibly.

"I will let each of you pick one spell. You are to do an in depth analysis of your spell; how it can be used defensively as well as offensively. If you pick one of the unforgivable curses, you will discuss its affects and any means that come to mind of blocking, overcoming or avoiding it altogether. Yes, Mr. Crabbe?"

Shocked, Harry looked at the back of the classroom where Crabbe had his hand raised obediently. He couldn't recall Crabbe ever asking a question in class.

"Will we be allowed to work with others on this assignment?"

So, that was his game; trying to find a way to shove his work off on someone else.

"Actually, Mr. Crabbe, I was just getting to that," Dumbledore answered with a kindly smile. "You will be working with a student from the other section. I want detailed papers and you will give a presentation in four weeks discussing your findings. We will combine sections for one week to hear the presentations."

Harry was already working out a way to partner with Ron.

"So, as I imagine you all have friends in the other section with whom you wish to work, I suggest you pick your spell and let them know what they should pick when I meet with them after lunch." For the second time, Harry could sense Dumbledore's gaze on him. When he looked up from his parchment, he was observing the class.

"Over the next three weeks, I plan to discuss a few tactics concerning each spell listed on the board. You can include what is discussed in class in your presentation. So, let's get to it shall we? Miss Bones, which spell would you like to work on?"

As Dumbledore worked his way down the register, Harry tried to decide what leftover he would be working on. He was surprised when Avada Kedavra was still available, so he selected it. He might as well know all there was to know about the spell he had managed to escape as a baby; plus the fact that he had an incredibly strong suspicion that he would be facing it again. Harry sighed and thought, I lead a charmed life.

As he and Hermione were walking to lunch after class, they ran into Ron, fresh from Charms. He still had faint scars on his arms from where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him a few months ago. Harry tried to avoid looking at Ron's arms as they constantly reminded him of the day Sirius died.

"Hey, Ron, Dumbledore is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and if you want to avoid working with Crabbe, think Avada Kedavra."

Ron looked at Harry, clearly wondering what the hell he was talking about. "You all right mate?"

Hermione looked at Harry and rolled her eyes. "He's fine, we've been assigned curses to study with students from your section and Harry picked Avada Kedavra. He doesn't want to get stuck with Malfoy."

"You mean that git is in my section?" Ron complained. "It's not enough that I get attacked by killer brains, face spiders the size of Goyle and throw up slugs. No, that's not enough--I have to be in class with ferret boy." Ron continued his rant as they entered the Great Hall.

~~~~~

"So nothing happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Crabbe? Dumbledore didn't knight Potter or present him with the Order of Merlin, third class?" Draco was interrogating Crabbe over lunch. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table and saw Potter sitting with his riffraff friends.

"What? Oh--yeah nothing happened in class." Crabbe was too busy staring at Pansy, who was engaged in a serious lip lock with Blaise, to pay Draco any attention.

Hopeless idiot, Draco thought, rolling his eyes. He directed his next comment at Pansy and Blaise. "Please, not at the table...some of us are trying to eat and the sight of you two snogging turns my stomach. Frankly, I'd rather watch the squid get it on with Weasley--and you know how disgusting Weasley is."

Pansy had the good grace to blush, but Blaise seemed quite perturbed by Draco's input. He turned his attention to his food nonetheless.

Crabbe glanced at Draco, who gave a quick wink before continuing. "Well, I guess I should head to class. It seems pointless having a Mudblood lover teaching us."

"Draco, wait...there was something I wanted to tell you." Crabbe began as he halted Draco.

"What is it?"

Unfortunately, Pansy chose that precise moment to giggle loudly and kiss Blaise on the cheek. Crabbe was sidetracked once again. "Oh--it was nothing."

Draco checked his temper before walking out of the Great Hall. After sixteen years of friendship with Crabbe, he was still put off by his lack of attention span. His recent crush on Pansy didn't help matters much. Pansy was Draco's friend, but she wasn't worth a mild case of depression. His mood wasn't improved by the sight that greeted him in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom--Weasley was sitting there talking to Dean Thomas. His face contorted into his usual sneer as he said, "Weasley, your sister isn't looking half bad this year. If I had lower standards I would give her a go."

Both Thomas and Weasley looked furious as they reached for their wands.

"You must be fond of your slug form, Malfoy," Ron snapped, a hex half formed on his lips.

"Gentlemen, please," came a soft voice from behind Draco, "resist the urge to curse one another until after class." Professor Dumbledore was behind him with that same 'sugar plums and dancing fairies' smile that annoyed the hell out of Draco.

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," Draco said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I'll just take a seat behind Weasley."

Draco watched as Ron's face turned red with anger. Sometimes it was too easy to get a rise out of him. He made like he was going to sit behind Ron, but made a quick detour to the back of the classroom where Blaise was settling into a chair.

"I didn't recognize you without Pansy attached to your face," Draco whispered so Dumbledore wouldn't overhear him. "The way you two carry on, honestly."

"At least I haven't been making eyes at Ginny Weasley," came Blaise's reply.

"Well, you've got to admit...she is growing up nicely. At least she's a pureblood...it's a shame she's dating that Mudblood." Draco motioned towards Dean, who was busy talking to Weasley.

Blaise rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Dumbledore. Draco had no intention of listening to Dumbledore's lecture. While he was busy putting things on the board, Draco looked at his blank parchment and whispered, "Aparecium." Words appeared on the parchment and Draco focused his attention on reading them.

He had spent quite a bit of time looking through Dark Arts books in his father's library over the summer. Without Lucius there barking instructions and advice at him, Draco had felt a bit lost so he had turned to some of his father' favorite books. Not that he resented his father, he respected him a great deal; but Draco didn't understand why he still had to pretend he was a good little boy now that Voldemort's return was common knowledge. His father had said as much in one of the few uncensored letters he had been able to send over the summer. His counsel rang in Draco's mind:

This is a critical time for you Draco. I cannot discuss all in this communication, but the Dark Lord needs reliable eyes and ears at Hogwarts. I implore you, keep your temper in check and do not draw any unnecessary attention to yourself.

So Draco passed the time by reading up on real magic. Several pages from a book entitled simply, Magic, were recreated on his parchment in invisible ink. Potter would piss his pants if he knew what real magic could do, Draco thought with a chuckle. Draco looked up from his reading when he realized the room had settled into silence. Dumbledore was looking at him expectantly, and Draco glanced at Blaise for a hint of what he was supposed to be saying. As if sensing Draco had no clue what he wanted, Dumbledore repeated his question.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you be so kind as to select a curse from the board?"

Draco, having no clue what was going on, selected the most powerful curse on the board. "Uh, Avada Kedavra?"

Weasley jerked around in his desk, a look of disgust on his face. Draco resisted the urge to shoot a rude gesture involving his middle finger his way. He thought he saw Dumbledore hesitate, but he nodded and continued down the roster. Draco still had no clue as to what he had just committed himself to. He would have to ask Blaise after class. He returned to his parchment for the last few minutes of the period.

A short while later, Dumbledore dismissed class. As Draco and Blaise gathered their books to leave, Blaise looked at Draco with a sickening smile on his face.

"I think you've stepped in it, Malfoy," he sneered.

Draco never thought the day would come when he would actively dislike a fellow Slytherin, but from the day he edged out Blaise for prefect, he'd been borderline hostile towards Draco. They put up a weak façade of friendship in public...pureblood unity and all that, but Draco really wished he were a Gryffindor so he could hex that smug smile off of his face.

"What are you going on about, Blaise?"

"Didn't Crabbe tell you? Pansy let me know during lunch..."

Draco looked at Blaise with a question playing over his features. He got the answer to his question as theyapproached the front of the classroom. Weasley was in the middle of what looked like a heated debate with Dumbledore; his arms were flailing about like a chicken with its head cut off. Draco knew this because he had seen a chicken with its head cut off before.

"Professor Dumbledore, he picked it to spite me. The entire class knew Harry and I planned on working together--everyone selected other curses so I could have it."

Draco, still unclear as to what was going on interjected. "Wait, if the curse has anything to do with Potter I want nothing to do with it. Let Weasley have it."

Dumbledore, looking as though he was amused by all of it, opined. "Well, we might all benefit from the combined efforts of you and Mr. Potter. I think it's an--interesting combination. We'll stick to the partnerships formed in class today for the time being."

There was that fucking smile again. If Draco hadn't already pledged himself to Voldemort's cause, that smile would have driven him over the edge and into league with the devil himself. Draco turned away from Dumbledore and walked out into the hallway where Blaise gleefully filled him in.

~~~~~

"Are you kidding me? How hard is it to pick a freaking curse, Ron?" Harry was none too pleased with the outcome of Ron's class.

"Yeah, sorry I wasn't born to another family, Harry. Perhaps then my name would have come before Malfoy's on the register."

Harry didn't miss the sarcasm dripping from Ron's voice. He sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just that with everything else that's going on, Malfoy's antics are the last thing I want to deal with. This class is important to me."

"We know, Harry," Hermione said, "but we can't do anything about it now. From what Ron said, Dumbledore's mind is made up. Let's just--take things as they come. Maybe he won't be so bad...his grade is on the line too."

Harry still wasn't convinced, but he dropped it. He didn't have time to get into an argument--he and Remus were supposed to chat via Hagrid's fireplace in an hour and he had homework to start. Besides, it really wasn't their fault.

Oh how he loathed Draco Malfoy.

~~~~~

"Thanks for the heads up, Crabbe," Draco spat, clearly upset with his friend.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I was going to tell you but I forgot," Crabbe said from his chair in the Slytherin Common Room. Draco was hovering over him, too angry to sit down. The other occupants had fled the room when Draco entered, leaving him and Crabbe alone. No one enjoyed being around when Draco was angry.

"You mean you were too busy watching Pansy snog Blaise and feeling sorry for yourself!"

Draco shook his head in disgust. The reality was, he could never be truly mad at Crabbe for long; it was like being mad at a pumpkin for being orange. Crabbe just wasn't too swift on the uptake and the pumpkin analogy wasn't too far off the mark. Even now he was peering at Draco, looking like a dog an inch from discipline.

"It's okay--but shit, Crabbe! Now I have to spend the next four weeks of my life with Potter. Potter of all people--the person responsible for my father, and yours I might add, being in Azkaban."

A look of violence passed over Crabbe's face as Draco mentioned his father. Both he and Lucius were in Azkaban being guarded by highly trained Aurors at this very moment. Draco hated to think of his proud father locked behind bars like a caged animal--and it was all Potter's fault. Draco, ever a true conniving Slytherin, considered the situation for a moment--maybe being partnered with Potter wasn't all bad. A plan was forming in Draco's mind.

"Maybe we can put your anger to good use, Crabbe. I did promise Potter I would get revenge for him imprisoning my father. A Malfoy isn't worth much if he can't keep his word." A wicked grin spread over Draco's face as he sat down to conspire with Crabbe.

Gods, how he despised Harry Potter.

~~~~~

A little over a year later Draco Malfoy found himself in a quaint little Inn located in Hogsmeade Village. He was stretched out on the bed like a contented cat. His hair was disheveled and a slight flush coloured his pale skin. Suddenly, Harry's head popped out from under the covers.

"You suck, Potter..."

"Well--uhh..." Harry said with a look of artificial confusion on his face.

Draco laughed and said, "Not like that you arse. I meant to say you're a tease, always stopping right when I start to enjoy myself." Draco glanced over at Harry, who suddenly looked quite serious. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern edging out the rare carefree moment for Draco.

Harry's expression changed as he noticed Draco looking at him. He wasn't the greatest at hiding his real emotions, but Draco let him believe he was at times.

"Nothing, I'm just sleepy."

Draco scrutinized Harry and decided to let it go. He would tell him whatever was on his mind eventually and Draco didn't feel like arguing at the moment. Who says I haven't learned anything over the last year and a half? Instead, Draco's right hand sought out Harry's left, and he started tracing patterns on Harry's palm with his fingertips. After a few moments of this, Draco sensed the tension flow out of Harry's slim frame and raised Harry's palm to his mouth for a quick kiss.

"Let's go to sleep," he said, pulling the duvet up to their shoulders. They fidgeted around in the bed for a bit trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. The task was made more difficult by Harry's insistence that he be able to view the window. In the end, Draco was spooned up behind Harry with his arm draped over his waist. His mouth was behind Harry's left ear, and Draco leaned over and whispered, "G'night, Harry."

*****