0o0o I 0o0o

The sky was crystalline bright; the lines between the sky and the fluffy cloud matter that dotted it were almost too precise. The sun shone down with a radiant intensity that burned little dots into Harry Potter's eyes as he stared up through the windows of his History of Magic classroom.

"They say he was blindsided by Granger."

"Who does?" `

"They, oh everybody! Haven't you been reading the papers?"

The creak of a wooden chair shifting as the gossiping girls behind moved closer. "Rita Skeeter says he is going mad-"

Harry trained his eyes on the windowsill and did his best to ignore the cluster of fourth year girls behind him. Gossips all of them and each and every one of them was freshly armed with Rita Skeeter's best piece on him to date. Somewhere to the right of him he could hear Hermione sigh angrily. He looked up and met her eyes, dark and cross from indignation. There was a rustle of paper and more muttering as a girl with Parvarti's profile withdrew the copy of Witch Weekly from her binder. Hermione leaned forward against her desk and mouthed "Ignore them!" with such a vehemence of facial features that Harry had to wonder if the expression hurt her dainty brow line.

"See! Look!" A jabbing noise indicated to Harry that a sharply painted nail had nabbed the paper. "A love potion! Poor Harry!"

"That's nonsense you know, he probably just liked her-"

"Harry or Krum?"

"I know, please! Two celebrities in one semester!? Harry Potter's Secret Heartache!"

"What a whore. She must have had help somehow or other."

"Exactly, it's the love potions!"

Harry couldn't help but chance another look in Hermione's direction only to find her face down and resolutely crimson. He couldn't help but feel a pull of sympathy for her. To be portrayed as a wronged man was one thing; it was a piece of hack publicity that Harry could live with but Harry had to recognize that the article had painted Hermione with a far less sympathizing brush. Of course the whole thing was absolute rubbish, everyone who knew him had even taken great care to verbally abuse the world that was Rita Skeeter most savagely since the articles unveiling that morning in potions class. Harry felt his gently bobbing knees stiffen at the recollection of the nasty curl that had graced Snape's lip during his oratory of the article. Biting the tip of his quill angrily over the ringing of the bell Harry busied himself putting away his books and paper. Ron, having slunk over in the rush to the door was livid.

"Wouldn't you think they would have something else to talk about?" His ears were the same shade of ginger as his hair.

"Oh Ron, just ignore them. This whole thing is already getting stupid."

Harry watched Hermione stuff her notes into her bag in one fluid motion, crumpling them thoroughly against the seams. "It was never anything but stupid," Harry muttered mostly to himself as they made their way out the door.

"-And Snape just getting off on it like that!"

Hermione turned to face him sharply. "What?"

Ron continued eagerly, his face a portrait of confusion. "What an example that is when your own teacher sells this crap to his students!"

Hermione blinked. "Snape never has been what you could call fair to all his students."

"You could say that again!" Ron shook his head in a dislike he was so distracted by that he nearly ran into Hermione who had stopped short with a sudden look of horror as though she had only just remembered something.

"Careful Ron," she uttered, though with less than her usual air of maddening superiority when it came to correction. She hoisted her bag up high on her shoulder looking distracted. "Listen, I've only just remembered that I have an essay up in the common room that is due after lunch!" With one more hoist she managed to convey her bag to Harry who teetered under its extra weight. "I'll meet you both in the great hall!"

Ron turned to look at Harry as Hermione's body passed up the stairs. "You don't think she is taking this too hard do you?"

Harry shook his head. "She is looking better than I would. Skeeter made her look horrible-"

"- and you like an unstable hero." Ron reminded him. He didn't say it but Harry could just hear the ghost of the words 'as always' whispering away in the wake of Ron's sentence.

"Yeah. I guess."

The entrance hall was jammed with students when they entered it, a most uncommon occurrence as the entrance hall served as a means of traveling through different parts of the castle. Any congestion therefore was always a sign of some larger activity. Coming up upon the heels of the crowd Ron cocked his head in surprise. "Do you think there is going to be a surprise feast?" He asked, eyebrows quirked.

"The mess you make eating Weasley, I certainly hope not," came the slick drawling voice of someone just behind them. Ron turned instantly, his hands clenched into fists. Harry remained as he was looking steadfastly forward. The last thing he needed was Malfoy. "Though I suppose it's only because they don't feed you very well at home."

"Shut it Malfoy!" Ron snapped and Harry could sense the anger unspent since potions in every word.

"I suppose that's what your mum says too, the cost of living these days,"

At this only a deep loyalty for Ron and his mother made him turn around. "Lay off Malfoy."

Draco looked back at him, apparently delighted at this sudden attention. "What's the matter Potter, one girl isn't enough for you?" His cold and pointed face was slowly drawing into a smooth smirk. "Mudblood's not good enough so you have to have a piece of Weasley's mom too-"

It was hard to say who threw the first blow, though Harry suspected it might've been Ron, bundled down as he was himself with both his and Hermione's bags it had taken him a moment to shirk them off before joining Ron in shoving Malfoy up against a wall and pulling out his wand. "One more move Malfoy!" Ron was sneering but Malfoy was still staring at Harry and laughing in soft nasty spurts.

"Touch a soft spot Potter?" The look on Malfoy's face had gone from condescending to cold.

Harry stared back at him incredulously. What was that supposed to mean? A soft spot? For Ron's mom? Harry sneered at him and dropped his wand. This wasn't even worth his time. He had endured enough stupidity to last him a lifetime. "Yeah, that's probably it," Harry sneered, "I'm in love with Ron's mum. Better go send the scoop to Skeeter while you can, I'm sure she's looking for a follow up!" The last words in his sentence came out with such a bite that Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise. Turning his back on him, Harry started to walk back into the crowd.

As soon as Harry had turned his back however, Malfoy called out after him in a snarl. "You think that's the best I could do Potter?" Harry turned and eyed him wearily. "I could tell Rita Skeeter things that would end your life as you know it Potter." Malfoy's eyes had narrowed to a state of ferocious anger.

Something in Harry's navel jumped. He didn't like the direction this was going in any more than he liked the look in Malfoy's eyes. Wand still gripped in his hand Harry scoffed. "Yeah right Malfoy." His voice was calm though he was sure his pulse had picked up. A muffled fear thumped away in his chest. Could Malfoy know something he didn't? "You don't even know me."

This had been the wrong thing to say, Harry could tell by the way Malfoy's features seemed to harden. Ron was still pushing him against the wall but that didn't seem to stop him from leaning forward as he hissed triumphantly, "Had any fun in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Harry stiffened with fear. He was bluffing, he had to be. Harry could not see how Malfoy could possibly know about Sirius. The only person who knew apart from themselves was Dumbledore but the look on Malfoy's face made it possible to believe him. Ron too seemed to be unsure as whether to smack him or not but found the answer made up for him when Malfoy pushed him away with an unexpected shove that sent both Ron and Harry toppling over a combination of his own and Hermione's bags. By the time they had straightened themselves Malfoy had disappeared and the crowd had begun to move into the great hall.

"That ruddy git!" Ron exclaimed, shoving Harry's text books back into Harry's trampled backpack.

"He was bluffing right?" Harry asked lowly, leaning closer to Ron under the pretext of picking up a few of Hermione's pens and hair ties which he then distractedly began to shove into his own pockets.

Ron shook his head. "I dunno but I don't like it. Maybe you should warn Sirius, er," Harry shot him a filthy look- "Snuffles, before it's too late. Ask him to move!"

They had collected their bags and were close to the entrance to the hall now. Harry groaned. "He wouldn't go though, not with me in the tournament and not without any real proof."

Ron nodded his head slowly, just catching Hermione's approach out of the corner of his eye. "Then maybe we need to find some."

0o0o II 0o0o

It wasn't until Harry was undressing for bed that he remembered the pocketful of Hermione's pens he had robbed her of. Sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking intently on Sirius he began to pull the fistful of the oddities out of his robes, grinning a little when he caught a clump of Hermione's hair in a clip. He withdrew the hair accessory from the group and tossed it on his bedside table when something shiny caught his eye. There, in the palm-full of items that now rested on his lap, was a strangely shaped bottle. The fluid inside it seemed to mist ominously as though it was being held over a flame. Frowning slightly, Harry pushed his glasses up on his face. A whisper from the hall floated back to him like a hissed hex. Love potion.

Startled, Harry blinked, a stupid grin working its way into the curve of his lips. No, that simply couldn't be now could it? What on Earth would Hermione be doing with a love potion? Even as he eyed the conspicuous container though he felt a wave of relief. Uncorking the bottle he drew the phial to his nose and took a dainty whiff. The texture of the liquid looked familiar but there was no mistaking the smell. He remembered being subjected to it for hours in the small incased stalls of a girls bathroom but that still didn't explain why Hermione would have polyjuice potion now, well into their fourth year. Just then though, as the light in the room shifted and another boy's footsteps echoed from the stairs he caught the reflection of one green eye glimmering back at him ominously from the tube as though presenting him with a much needed and extravagant gift. Alarmed by the approaching dorm mate and somewhat transfixed by the reflection of his own eyes, Harry shoved the bottle under his pillow and out of sight.

"Hey mate, I was just looking for you!" Ron called out across the entrance hall, falling into stride with Harry. "Have you seen Hermione?"

Hermione. Harry briefly debated on whether or not to tell Ron about the polyjuice but found he did not have the heart to do it. If what he was holding was indeed a secret polyjuice potion then he felt secure in believing that Ron was one of the last people she would have wanted him to tell about it. "No, haven't seen her."

"Oh," Ron frowned, "because I haven't seen her since last night and I don't think we even got a chance to tell her about Sirius."

Harry only just refrained from admonishing Ron about using Sirius's name in public, choosing instead to think about Malfoy whose name by inference and whose gleaming silver head across the hall near the double doors to potions class had only just cropped back up in his mind. A horrible sense of dread once again filled his stomach like a dense and heavy plume of air as they joined the back of the queue.

Malfoy was surrounded by his cronies who formed a laughing pit of ugly green and silver clad students all of whom made it virtually impossible for Harry to question Malfoy any further about Sirius. Almost as though sensing his predicament, Malfoy's eyes skidded past the face of the boy in front of him and met Harry's in a cruel smile. Looking away in disgust Harry followed Ron into class, a hard hatred replacing his sense of nausea.

Hermione it transpired, was absent from all of their first period classes which was something that was as unsettling as it was uncommon. Even Draco Malfoy commented on it loudly from the seats just in front of them as Crabbe and Goyle's shoulders shook in tune with all his jokes. It was this shaking of Crabbe and Goyle's however, that prevented Harry from snapping; from reaching forward and seizing a fistful of that silver blonde hair and dragging Draco back over his table and pounding him mercilessly with his ladle. Those shaking shoulders that shook free strands of bristly hair like strange déjà vu positively hypnotized Harry and he watched some of Goyle's hairs bounce about his collar. He remembered their botched second year attempt at infiltrating the Slytherin dorms uneasily. It had not been an easy operation then, what made him think that it would be now? Even if he somehow managed to get in, would he ever be able to find Malfoy, question him and get out again? "Well, if you could only see behind you Goyle, it's like Potter's dogging your every move."

Harry's head snapped up and he found Malfoy's icy smile replaced by a sneer. Dogging? A second thrill of panic rode up his spine and for a moment he refused to make eye contact beyond a look of disgust, choosing instead to watch professor Snape crush armadillo bile into powered mandrake root. He waited longer then he felt he should have had too for Malfoy head to turn before meeting Ron's eye. Dogging? That was it then, Draco knew. What were the odds that Malfoy would work in two subtle stabs at Sirius in two days time without meaning them. His eyes had fallen back to Goyle's head and he concentrated hard. He only needed a single hair for this half hazard plan of his to be plausible. Maybe he should try to take a hair- just in case. Watching the way Goyle moved intently in short subtle glances Harry felt that there was no way he would be able to simply pluck a hair unnoticed, not with Malfoy's sharp little eyes flicking back at him every few minutes as though to check that he was still where he had left him. There was nothing for it then and so mustering up all of his courage he wound back and pushed his palm into the back of Goyle's head in what could have substituted as a smack, taking several hairs with it. Goyle knocked forward letting out a soft "Umph-" and knocking over his dish of spider legs. Beside him, Ron's face had gone wide with laughter. Malfoy whipped his head back, torn between summoning the professor and snarling at him, "Sudden fixation on Goyle Potter?"

Harry smiled, trying to hide the nail-full of hair he was concealing beneath the table between them. "Well it's got to be better than touching you."

Ron broke out into astounded sniggers and Malfoy turned the shade of Harry's quidditch robes before spitting, "Thankfully for me, you'll never make a comparison." Swiveling around in his seat, he remained in sneering silence until the end of class, his jaw clenching before molding into a shock of cold sobriety. Hoping he hadn't appeared as obvious as he had felt, Harry noticed with some trepidation that every time Goyle grew tired and attempted to recline in his chair that Malfoy swatted him back waspishly into sitting position.

When Hermione was again absent from lunch, Ron suggested that they go looking for her. They found her shortly after, curled up in a ball on an arm chair in the common room. Her soft brown hair fell down across her puffy cheeks somewhat droopily, her book bag sprawled out at her feet. From where Harry stood it looked as though every paper in her bag lay sprawled across the floor as though, he admitted, she had been looking for something. Feeling more than a little guilty he pulled back as Ron shook her gently from sleep, feeling firmly that this was their moment together. He had more important things to consider just now, Sirius's safety now wretchedly prominent among them.