Sacrifice

Chapter 3 - Friendship

Sweetest love, return again,

Make not too long stay:

Killing mirth and forcing pain,

Sorrow leading way.

Let us not thus parted be:

Love and absence ne'r agree.

.........

But can I live, having lost

Chiefest part of me?

Heart is fled, and sight is crossed,

These my fortunes be.

Yet dear heart go, soon return:

As good there as here to burn.

"Want to play chess?"

Harry looked up, startled, as Ron flopped down on the foot of the bed. Harry had been sitting there, staring out through the window, too deep in thought to even notice his friend entering the dormitory.

"Ron! You scared me."

"Sorry," Ron said. His mischievous smile said that he wasn't sorry at all, and that if any scaring had occurred he considered it a nice bonus. But then his smile faded. "Have you been in here all day?"

Harry shrugged and looked at his watch. "I didn't expect anyone to come back yet," he said, avoiding Ron's question. It was a Hogsmeade weekend and except for the first- and second-years, who had taken over the common room in the absence of the older students, Gryffindor tower was empty. Today Harry preferred it that way.

"I got bored." Ron dug around in his pockets for a while, before fishing out a couple of chocolate frogs. "Want one?" he asked, throwing a frog to Harry without waiting for an answer.

"Thanks."

"So, how about a game of chess?"

Harry shook his head. "If you don't mind... I don't think I could concentrate."

"It's okay. We can do something else. Exploding Snap?"

"Hmm..."

"Or," Ron said, noticing that Harry didn't seem very enthusiastic. "We could sit here doing nothing. Just talk..."

"Yeah, I guess we could do that."

None of them said anything for a while. Harry was aware that Ron was watching him expectantly, but suddenly he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was the kind of feeling he usually got when he knew he had forgotten something important and couldn't remember what it was, or when Snape kept asking him questions he knew Harry wouldn't be able to answer.

"So... Was there anything special you wanted to talk about?" Harry asked lamely.

Ron shrugged. "Nah, I just want to do something... Something that doesn't involve school or homework or N.E.W.T.s. Something fun. And you're such a fountain of funny ideas today..." Ron's laugh was almost cheerful enough to cancel the sarcasm in his voice. Almost.

"I'm just worried."

"Malfoy can take care of himself."

"I know. But I haven't heard anything from him."

"And you can't go a few days without your boyfriend?" There was definitely more sarcasm than laughter in Ron's voice now.

"No! It's not that." Although I do miss him. Harry firmly pushed that thought away. Allowing himself to think about how much he missed Draco would not help. "I'm just afraid something has happened. He should have written by now."

"Yes, because it's Mr Sensitivity we're talking about."

Harry recoiled at the venom in Ron's voice. He had grown accustomed to Ron and Draco constantly sniping at each other. But this was different. It was not like Ron to sound so... bitter.

"If you just bothered to get to know him a little better..." Harry trailed off. It had become obvious a long time ago that Ron and Draco had no interest in getting to know each other better. Normally he just ignored their little feud. So, why can't I do that today? And why is Ron being such a prat about it?

"Wake up, Harry," Ron suddenly snapped. "Malfoy may be doing all kinds of nice things to impress you, but towards the rest of the world he's still acting like the nasty self-centred git he is."

Just ignore it! Ron and Draco could keep their fight between them. Harry wasn't going to get involved. But still he could feel himself tensing up.

"Ron, don't!" It came out a little harsher than he had expected.

"Fine!"

Ron jumped down from the bed and went to his trunk, where he started unloading his pockets. A bag from Zonkos' forcefully hit the bottom of the trunk. A couple of chocolate frogs and a box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans followed. Then Ron slammed the lid shut.

"What's your problem?" Harry asked, exasperated.

Ron stared at him silently for so long that Harry thought he wasn't going to answer at all. Then he said, "I didn't come here to talk about Malfoy," and left.

Harry glared at the door as it slammed shut behind him. What's wrong with him? He felt his anger slowly draining away, until only a dull frustration remained, and he could think relatively clearly. Yes, Ron had been angry, but there had been something in his eyes... Beyond all that irritation, he had looked almost... hurt?

Harry got up from the bed. He had to go after him.

He didn't have to go very far. Ron was sitting in the stairs a few stories below. Harry sat down next to him.

"What's wrong, Ron?" he asked gently.

"It's silly." Ron grimaced. "I just thought that with Malfoy gone, you and I would have a chance to spend more time together."

Ron's words hurt. But he was right, Harry had to admit. Sometimes it seemed like the only things they said to each other were good morning and good night. The day in between just seemed to vanish, so full of other activities that they barely saw each other.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

Ron shook his head. "Don't be. It's not your fault. And I'm not blaming Malfoy, either," he added hastily. Then he smiled; a genuine smile this time. "Well, maybe I could blame him a little, just on principle?"

Harry laughed, and Ron joined in the laughter a few moments later.

"I've missed this," Harry said. "I've just been so busy, I didn't even realise it."

"I know. There are so many things we have to do that I sometimes almost forget what I want to do."

They sat pondering this for a moment. Then Harry looked around.

"By the way, why are we sitting here?" He asked, indicating the staircase.

"The first-years are having a pillow fight in the common room. Pretty pathetic, huh? I didn't feel like going down there."

Harry craned his neck, looking into the common room. There were really a few pillows flying through the air. "Yeah, pathetic," he agreed. Then he looked at Ron. A broad grin decorated his friend's face. Harry grinned back. They were thinking the same thing.

"Want to go and show them what a real pillow fight looks like?" Harry asked.

"You bet!"

They pulled out their wands, as they ran down the stairs, and the moment they burst into the common room, they shouted, "Accio pillows!"

Dozens of pillows came streaming into the common room from all over Gryffindor tower. The first-years screamed, but soon everybody was grabbing the flying pillows and pelting each other.

***

A few hours later, Harry was standing outside Dumbledore's office, waiting for the Headmaster to return from dinner. The uneasy feeling had faded into the background during the pillow fight. After that, he had gone flying with Ron and, still feeling guilty, he had pushed his worries away so that he could give Ron his undivided attention.

But at dinner the restlessness had come back, even worse than before. The weird sensation in his stomach had spread through his entire body and his skin felt like it didn't fit anymore.

Why hasn't Draco sent me a letter? No matter what Ron thought, it wasn't like Draco to let Harry worry like this. It had never been easy being together with Draco. He had a volatile temper, very easy to anger, and when he got angry he'd be almost impossible to be around. He'd sulk and refuse to talk to you, or insult you until you wanted to punch him in the face, and then make you feel bad about getting mad at him. Harry had never met anyone who could nurse a grudge like Draco. And when he felt hurt, or sad, or afraid... well... he usually got angry then too. Oh yes, Draco had many faults, but he was never inconsiderate. Never.

"Harry?" Dumbledore came walking towards him. "I take it you're here to see me?"

Harry nodded, and Dumbledore indicated for him to follow. Together they walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"You're worried about Draco," Dumbledore stated as they sat down, the Headmaster behind his desk and Harry in one of the comfortable chairs in front of it.

"I want to go to Malfoy Manor to see if he's okay," Harry blurted out. He hadn't consciously been thinking about it, but now that the idea was out, it seemed like the only sensible one.

Dumbledore shook his head. "You know I can't let you do that."

"You let Draco go."

"I hoped he wouldn't," Dumbledore said. "But he's a sensible and careful young man. He won't take any unnecessary risks." Unlike Harry, his tone implied.

"I haven't heard from him since he left," Harry said. "Not a word! I have to go to him."

"Harry, think!" Even though Dumbledore's voice was gentle, his words were forceful. "The moment you leave Hogwarts, you'll have at least a dozen Death Eaters swarming around you. By drawing attention to Malfoy Manor, you'd only put him in more danger."

Harry had to admit that Dumbledore was right. Again Harry cursed his fame. If he'd been just anybody, he could have gone with Draco. Could have been there for him when he needed it most, instead of sitting here at Hogwarts, unable to do anything.

"I worry about him too, Harry," Dumbledore was saying. "And if we don't hear anything from him soon, I'll send someone to bring him back. But in the meantime, we just have to trust that he knows what he's doing. He probably has his reasons not to contact you."

"I guess. But if anything happens to him..." Harry closed his eyes, trying to make the thought go away. No! Nothing's going to happen to him. I won't let it!

"He'll be fine," Dumbledore said. "You know he can be very resourceful."

"Yeah, I know."

But Harry wasn't convinced. This was one of the few times when talking to Dumbledore hadn't helped at all, he thought as he was leaving the office. The uneasy feeling was still there.

He had only taken a few steps away from the gargoyle that guarded the door to the Headmaster's office, when Pansy Parkinson pounced on him.

"Where's Draco?" she demanded.

Harry wished he could ignore her, but she was quite effectively blocking the way, standing in the middle of the corridor, her hands in tight fists on her hips. She obviously thought this was a menacing position. She wasn't completely wrong.

"If he didn't tell you, he clearly didn't want you to know," Harry said.

There was no love lost between him and Pansy. She had thrown a fit, when his and Draco's relationship became public, screaming hysterically at Harry that he had stolen Draco from her. He might have felt sorry for her. Being in love with Draco certainly was something he could understand. He might even have been able to forgive her for hitting him. She had been very upset, after all. But she had done it in the Great Hall - in front of the whole school - at a time when more attention was the last thing he needed.

Draco, being Draco, had of course found the whole situation incredibly amusing.

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "You know where he is. He's in some kind of trouble, isn't he? And I bet it's all your fault. I told him so! I've told him again and again that you'd be trouble. But does he listen? No, of course he doesn't! Because he thinks he's in love with you."

"Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about." He started to push past her, but hesitated when he remembered what Dumbledore had said. He didn't think that Pansy would intentionally put Draco in danger. But if she went around asking about him, other people would undoubtedly start wondering too.

"Pansy, have you been talking about this with anybody else?"

"Since when is it your business who I talk to?"

"Can you please act like a civilised person and just answer the question?"

She sneered viciously at him.

"Please? It's important. For Draco..."

"Oh fine!" She sounded like she granted him some huge favour. "No one knows where he is. He just left a few days ago, saying he was going out for a bit, and no one has seen him since."

Harry swore under his breath. They had decided that the fewer people who knew where Draco was going the better. But Harry had assumed he would make up some story to explain his absence to the Slytherins. Apparently he hadn't, and now they were getting suspicious.

"You have to help him," he told Pansy. "Make something up, make people stop wondering about him."

"So you really know where he is?" Her voice was quieter now, and the anger in her eyes had changed into anxiety.

"Yes, but I can't tell you."

"Is he in trouble?"

"I hope not. Can you help him? It's important that no one starts looking for him."

She nodded, looking thoughtful. "I'll think of something. Maybe something a little embarrassing." She smirked, but added, in something that might have been an apologetic tone, "If people are laughing at him, they won't think too much."

"Thank you."

She gave him a curt nod, and strode away.

Harry stood looking after her for several moments; then he turned around and started walking towards the Owlery. He would write to Draco, as he had done every evening since he left. And if he didn't get an answer to this letter either, he would go and find Draco, no matter what Dumbledore said.

Hedwig greeted him happily when he entered the Owlery. Earlier in the day, she had returned from delivering a message to Sirius. The answer she brought back had been unsatisfactory. Sirius just wrote that he was okay, and that he was doing something important that he couldn't talk about. Whatever it was, he was obviously doing it far away from Hogwarts, because it had taken Hedwig more than a week to get there and back.

Even after that long a journey, she seemed excited at the thought of another letter to deliver.

"Yes, you can take it," Harry said. "I just have to write it first."

He didn't write much. A few words about how much he missed Draco... missed him, loved him, worried about him and wanted him to come back. Please answer this time, Draco, Harry thought as he tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. Please come back to me.

"Find Draco for me," he told Hedwig. She hooted softly and took off.

Harry stood watching the spot where she had disappeared long after he couldn't see her anymore. The uneasy feeling was growing. It felt like tiny insects with cold feet were crawling all over him, inside him, everywhere. He felt nauseous.

Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his head. Almost as if he'd run straight into a Bludger. His hand flew up to his forehead.

To his scar.

It was hurting.