Gates of Roses

Chapter 2

"Uh, Harry?"

The boy ignored the voice, feverishly reading about the history of magical experiments in Hogwarts. Ever since he had received the ring, the blond hadn't been seen. However... he was close to finding out who the student was. Harry knew it, he was...

"HARRY!"

"Yes, Ron?" he asked, distracted from his studying. "What... oh." He blinked, taking in Ron's nightclothes. And the lightening sky. And the students stumbling down the stairs, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"What is wrong, anyway?" Ron started. "You don't sleep anymore, or eat much, or watch Quidditch..." The redhead's eyes took in the book on Harry's lap and the ring on the table. "Ever since some girl gave that ring to you, all you've done is study... oh, did Hermione give you that ring, to make you actually study?"

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes, and turned back to his book. "I'll be down in a bit for breakfast," he told Ron absently, immersing himself back into the words.

"Oh, you're not missing another breakfast." Ron swiftly pulled the book out from under Harry's nose. "Come on. All study and no pranks make for a dull wizard."

"Hey!" He looked up, reaching for the book. "I said I'll be down." Harry suddenly lost his balance, and gripped the arm of the chair. "Uh. Ron, go away, I'm fine," he bit out, crossly. "Just a little dizzy, that's all." Slowly, he stood from the chair, one hand holding the arm of the chair in a death grip as he pocketed the ring.

The youngest male Weasley was flipping through the book Harry had been reading. "A book about the experiments at Hogwarts?" he asked, amazed. "Are you still going on about that story I told you? It may not even be true, you know."

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron about the diary he had found, then stopped. "I... I have to go change my robes," he said instead, starting up to his dorm. "I'll be down in a bit." He started up the stairs, not paying attention to his friend telling him to hurry up. The ring was burning a cold hole in his pocket, demanding attention. Slowly, Harry slipped the ring out as he sat on his bed.

It was a pretty ring. White, with a pink and white rose crest. And it appeared to be perfectly normal. Harry lifted the ring to his ring finger on his right hand. "Where did you come from?" he whispered. "Who died during the experiment?"

Thankfully, for Harry's sanity, the ring didn't answer. Wizard world or not, he still wasn't used to normally inanimate objects talking to him. He hesitated, then pressed the ring into his palm without putting it on. "What are you?" he asked, still whispering. Slowly, he pulled the diary out from under his bed, and placed the ring on top of the leather cover. His fingers traced a circle around the ring, only to be gently covered by a very pale hand. Harry lifted his head, his breath catching in his throat.

No one.

Harry looked wildly back down at the ring and diary. His own hand was covering the ring. Quickly, he snatched his hand away, his heart beating a rapid pulse against his chest. Harry sat like that for a minute, staring at the two items, before shoving them off his lap.

He quickly hid the diary and ring. Once he found out where the ring came from, Harry reasoned as he got dressed, he'd know who took place in the experiment and then he'd... Harry's thoughts stopped as his hands encountered a heavy, circular object in his robes. Slowly, he unfolded them.

The ring laid there against the black cloth, glimmering in the rising sun's light. Harry swayed on his feet, his nose thick with a rose scent as his vision misted over.

***

"Harry. Harry! Finnigan, we need to get him to the infirmary."

The raven haired boy groaned, slowly opening his eyes. "Ron, no... that's..." He rubbed his eyes, then stopped as he saw the robe in his lap.

No ring. Harry quickly groped the fabric, feeling for if the ring had fallen into a fold. Nothing. Slowly, he turned green eyes up to look at Ron and Seamus. "That's okay," he finished belatedly. "I'll go see Madame Pomfrey as soon as I'm done dressing."

"We'll come with you," Seamus told him, and Ron quickly nodded.

Harry shook his head, slowly getting to his feet. "I can make it down there by myself," he reassured them, shaking his robe out. "I'm okay, Ron."

Still slightly disbelieving, Ron nodded. "Okay, Harry. We're going down to the common room." The redhead grabbed Seamus's arm, and started to drag him back down the stairs.

Harry instantly went to where he hid the diary and ring. His fingers scrabbled across the leather cover, and hit the smooth metal of the band. Slowly, he withdrew the ring, staring down at the crest. It trembled in his hand, and he put it back, taking the diary out instead. His hands instantly opened it to the page with the rose crest sketched on it, and the two French phrases.

"Engage yourself to me," he murmured. Slowly, Harry's emerald eyes widened. "French... that's it." There was a family whose child had gone to Hogwarts right around the time the experiment took place. Soon after the child attended, the parents fell into a deep depression. The mother had committed suicide. If he remembered correctly, the family had its roots in France. But who...?

Slowly, his hand traced one phrase. Je vous attends ici. "I await you here." The Slytherin had said that too. Where did he await him? He lifted his hand so only the tip of his index finger brushed the page with the barest of touches, and traced the lines of the crest. His eyes drifted shut in thought, a faint breeze touched with a rose scent wafted in from the window. A hand gently covered his, stilling his finger's motion as the other arm slid across his back and down his other arm.

"Bloody stupid Gryffindor," a voice hissed in his ear.

Harry's eyes snapped open, knowing no one was there. "Dozed off," he muttered, moving to close the diary. Something was in the way, though... he looked down, and pushed the book away, startled.

A beautiful, near perfect white rose laid there on the pages.

***

It was getting out of control. Harry watched his hands tremble as he flipped another page, and sighed, leaning back against the chair. He should take the potion Madame Pomfrey had given him for dreamless sleep, but even that didn't help. It had been a month since the rose had appeared, and the blond Slytherin had moved from his waking moments to his dreams. Every dream, he was there, smoothly asking him to slip the ring on... to engage himself to the Slytherin.

Harry tried to turn his attention back to the book, giving up as the words blurred beyond recognition. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking down at the book.

"That's not going to have what you need."

Quickly, Harry's head snapped up. A pale, lithe boy was sitting on one of the footstools, staring at the fire. "What are you doing here?" he whispered, moving for his wand.

The blond was silent for a few minutes, then turned to him, a bruise horribly obvious against the pale, delicate skin. Reluctantly, he said, "I need your help."

Harry sat up straighter. "Who...?"

Smirking, the boy waved a hand at the book in Harry's lap. "That book doesn't have me in it. The only one that was famous was my father." Harry looked down, straight into the sneering eyes of a pale haired wizard.

"Lucius Malfoy," Harry whispered. "Malfoy... that's it." He turned his head back up. "The French... it's because you're a Malfoy. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy's son..." At that, Harry's brain went blank. He knew he had seen the name, but he could. Not. Remember it!

"Not as stupid as most Gryffindors," Malfoy acknowledged. "That's not why I came here. The ring I gave to you..."

"You gave to me?" Harry repeated, disbelieving. "You gave it to me?"

"Of course I did," Malfoy said condescendingly. "It wasn't just some random jewellery lying around, was it?"

Harry bristled at his tone, but refused to rise to the bait. "What about the ring?"

Malfoy's fingers twisted in his robe, seemingly unconsciously. "You can see me. That means... a noble heart..." He was fighting to get every word out. "You..."

A thought occurred to Harry. "How did you get in?"

The Slytherin relaxed. This was obviously an easy answer. "You're dreaming... Harry Potter."

Harry jerked his head off his chest, his neck sore from being in that position for so long. He had fallen asleep...

"Malfoy," he murmured. "That Slytherin..." Harry looked down at his lap, not at all surprised that the ring had migrated from the hiding spot to his legs. He plucked the ring off his lap, and examined it. "A noble heart... huh?" He placed the ring on the tip of his ring finger, and slowly pushed it down to rest at the base.

Nothing happened. Harry flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the ring as he moved. Still nothing.

That was anticlimactic, he thought. Harry yawned, noticing how tired he really was. A little sleep wouldn't hurt. After all, he had Potions in the morning, and sleep induced clumsiness was practically inviting Professor Snape to berate him.

There was a little voice screaming in the back of his mind, warning him about sleep and dreams. That was silly. He hadn't had a really bad nightmare or weird dream for months. Harry yawned again, starting up to his dorm room. He needed a good nights sleep. Too much studying had really done him in.