A/n: Here's another story written for Round 3 of The 2015 Grand Battle Challenge being held on Diagon Alley II [link in my profile]. Round 3 happens to come under the Golden Trio Era, so I have been forced out of my comfort zone to write this Drarry one-shot and I hope I've done it justice.

Underlined words are prompts, as per the rules of the challenge, and the prompts used have been mentioned at the bottom, also as per the rules of the challenge.

May the Order win this time around!

Summary: Plagued by visions of Draco Malfoy being tortured, Harry can't help but be hyper-sensitive towards everything the other does. On one such day, when he follows after Malfoy, one thing leads to another and- well, you'll see. Written for Round 3 of the Grand Battle Challenge on Diagon Alley II. Warning: Slash pairing Drarry.

It's Not Love, It's Amortentia

Recognising the transition from a dream to a vision had become almost natural to him, now. One moment he was dreaming of Ginny doing and saying things that would make Ron's blood curdle, and the next moment he was seeing Draco Malfoy lying on a cold marble floor, writhing in pain and screaming louder than the Fat Lady ever had.

It was frightening how normal it had become to wake up drenched in cold sweat, breathing heavily, with his heart racing like he'd just run through the Forbidden Forest with every manner of creature hot on his heels.

But that wasn't what frightened him the most.

It wasn't the fact that he was no longer seeing visions of people he knew nothing about, or visions of people he was closely associated to, either. No, it was the fact that he was having visions of someone he saw on a daily basis—who he had known for almost six years of his life, now, and these visions had been occurring almost on a weekly basis, off late.

He would jolt awake and stare at the maroon drapes around his bed and the only thing he could see was Malfoy's pale face twisted in agony as he screamed and writhed on the floor—or Malfoy cowering in a corner with tears and blood streaming down his face as a menacing shadow leered down at him. And the only thing he could hear, besides the ringing in his ears, was the shrill, mocking laughter that he knew all too well.

It was his morning routine, since recently, to wake up to Malfoy, Voldemort, and his own screaming. Then he would stare at the curtains and see the scene replay over and over and over again till daylight broke through the gaps in between the thick drapes. Then he would get dressed and trudge down to the Great Hall for breakfast in a daze, answer all questions and greetings directed towards him with monosyllabic replies or the nod of his head, then stumble through his day's classes—all the while thinking about how Draco Malfoy was whimpering and trembling with fear and how, if you didn't consider the fact that he was seeing what his nemesis was seeing, he was the one making the Slytherin male fear for his life.

It unnerved him, to say the least.

It also made him uncharacteristically sympathetic towards the platinum-haired prat.

He'd started noticing Malfoy much more, since the visions—much more than even his usual, stalker-ish observations. He'd noticed that Malfoy barely ever ate, looked as though he hadn't slept for weeks, mumbled to himself a lot, spent an awful lot of time screaming or crying in the boys' toilet, made the silliest of errors in classes that caused even Snape to subtract a few points from his own house, and mostly just remained quietly brooding in a corner as much as possible.

And considering he knew exactly what was causing Malfoy to behave so jittery and fidgety all the time—he would jump if Zabini gently placed a hand on his shoulder or shout if someone sat down beside him—he almost couldn't bring himself to quite hate the fellow. Even if it meant letting someone he was sure was a Death Eater get away with doing whatever it was he was supposed to be doing.

But he wasn't the only one who had noticed these changes.

One day, he was sitting at the farthest window of the Gryffindor Common Room, strategically hidden behind the thick drapes, staring down at the Marauders' Map in his hands, and looking for his intended target. At least, that was what he had been doing until Hermione yanked the curtains apart, settled herself on the windowsill beside him, and stared at him till he felt like a pickled prune.

"Harry," she said, and he sat up in rapt attention. "You've been awfully withdrawn, lately."

"Have I?" he asked in an attempt to sound casual.

"You have," she snapped, her already bushy mane frizzing even more. "And I demand to know the reason behind it."

He stared at her for a long moment and then shrugged. "I'm sure you already know it."

She watched him for a moment longer and sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping and her menacing aura deflating considerably. She eyed the map in his hands and getting a knowing look on her face, snapped her eyes back to him.

"Harry, this is unhealthy, you know."

"What is?" he asked, trying to keep the defensive tone out of his voice even as he wiped the map clean with a quiet 'Mischief Managed' and stuffed it into the pockets of his robes.

"Your recent obsession with Draco Malfoy, that's what."

He looked out the window at the cloudless sky and sighed. It was going to be another unnaturally hot February afternoon.

"Harry," Hermione said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He turned to her with a grimace.

He sighed again and began in a withdrawn voice, "Hermione, I know that to you and Ron I may look like a delusional girl in love—"

"You most certainly do."

"—but I've told you why. I need to keep an eye on him to make sure whatever Voldemort's grand plan is, doesn't happen."

Hermione flinched slightly when he said Voldemort's name, but she recovered instantly to say, "Is that all it is, then?"

He made an exasperated motion and shook his head at her. "Is what all it is, Hermione? You're being ridiculous about this whole thing!"

She gave him an 'Oh, am I?' look and said, "I would think this has more to do with your visions of seeing him being tortured than anything else—"

"This is ridiculous. You're overthinking this whole thing and I need to leave because Angelina's asked the team to gather up at the pitch soon for a sudden, surprise practice session."

And so saying, he snapped the curtains aside and stepped out, hoping nobody would notice that Hermione and him had just stepped out from behind the thick drapes—a location mostly used by snogging couples. Luckily for him, though, everyone's focus was currently on Seamus—who had just climbed through the Portrait Hole, panting and red in the face, grinning like he had just won the House Cup all on his own.

"Seamus, mate, what's going on?" he asked, pushing past the group of curious Gryffindors who had gathered around Seamus to hear whatever grand tale he was narrating.

"'arry! There you are! Angelina's asked me to fetch ya!"

"What, why? Did something happen? Practice doesn't start in over an hour."

"Ooh, you gotta see it ta' believe it, mate, c'mon!"

And so saying, Seamus dragged him out of the Common Room and towards the Quidditch Pitch, keeping him distracted with a constant flow of overly dramatised narrations of what was apparently transpiring at the pitch. He was currently saying something that sounded oddly like nipple clamps, but Harry was sure to have misheard it.

"He's back and everyone's excited as hell, mate!" Seamus was saying, thumping Harry on the back and making him cough a little.

"Who's back, Seamus? You keep saying he's back, but you won't tell me who!" Harry said in exasperation, trying to wean his arm out of the other's unbelievably tight grip.

"Wood, that's who!"

Harry had to drag his heels in the ground to keep Seamus from pulling him away and the two paused, both panting lightly for breath. Harry frowned as he finally managed to extricate his hand from Seamus's hold.

"Wood who?"

The Irish boy laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder as though he had just cracked the funniest joke yet. When Harry didn't seem very keen on laughing along with Seamus, the other sobered down considerably and said,

"Oliver Wood, mate. Ex-Quidditch Captain, member of Puddlemere United, the fellow who—"

"Right, got it, thanks," Harry said distractedly—a certain platinum-haired Slytherin, who was currently running towards them, had caught his attention. He had expected Malfoy to slow down as he neared, or at least shoot them one of his usual, disgusted looks, but he only ran past, his face ashen and his expression, frightened.

"Wha's that all about?" Seamus muttered, preparing to drag Harry away once again, but he maneuvered out of the other's reach and began to run after Malfoy.

His mind helpfully supplied him with his previous conversation with Hermione, but he swatted it away as he stumbled around corners, trying to keep Malfoy in sight. He lost him on the fifth floor when Peeves caught him with a basket full of dung bombs, and swore under his breath, wondering which way Malfoy would have gone.

Suddenly realising that he had the Marauders' Map with him, he hid behind a suit of armour and pulled it out, rustling it open and using a Lumos spell to help him find what he was looking for. It took him longer than he wanted to take, but he finally found Malfoy's dot pacing up and down on the seventh floor.

He took off, staring at the map and looking up only so he didn't bump into anything, his mind whirring away as he tried to figure out why Malfoy was in such an obscure location. It was only when he reached the familiar looking corridor that he slapped his forehead at his stupidity.

"The Room of Requirement, of course!"

He pressed himself against the wall and inched forwards, peering around the corner as his heart continued to beat a rhythm against his ribs. He frowned as he watched the other boy pace up and down outside the room, muttering to himself.

What was he doing? Was he going to go in? What was he looking for? Was it something he'd hidden? What was he hiding?

He peered around the corner with all sorts of questions running rampant in his mind, his heart thundering with anticipation. But after five minutes, it became clear that Malfoy was only pacing back and forth and talking to himself.

He sighed and stepped back, debating whether to just leave Malfoy to his pointless pacing and go back to a meet Oliver, or continue standing there, watching him like the closet-pervert he was sure to be mistaken for. He was just about to start a debate with himself regarding whether or not he was obsessed with Malfoy as Hermione had accused him of being, when he heard a shout.

He shot out from his hiding place, intending on making towards where Malfoy was kneeling, clutching his left forearm and groaning in pain, but white-hot pain seared from his scar and he stumbled, falling backwards as his vision went white for a moment, before blacking out.

When he blinked his eyes open slowly and let his vision focus, the first thing he did was touch his scar and make sure he was safe. So it startled him when he saw wide, grey eyes staring down at him.

He jerked upwards, pushing himself into a sitting position and scrambling back until his back pressed against the wall, never breaking eye-contact with Malfoy. When the staring went on for an inordinately—and uncomfortably—long time, he frowned and dropped his gaze, focusing, instead, on how Malfoy was absentmindedly scratching the sleeve of his left forearm.

In his scratching, the rough fabric happened to pull back slightly, and Harry noticed the undeniably familiar line of black ink marked on Malfoy's reddened skin. He immediately reached forwards and grabbed the other's arm, yanking back the sleeve to reveal a slightly pulsating Dark Mark. Malfoy instantly withdrew his arm, pushing Harry away and cradling his arm as though it was a sick child.

"What's wrong with you!" he yelled, his voice high-pitched and panicky, a completely terrified expression on his face.

"N-Nothing, er, sorry… I didn't mean to—"

"Stay away from me!" Malfoy shouted, leaning so far back, he was almost lying on the cold, stone floor. Harry raised his hands up to show that he wasn't going to hurt Malfoy, an image of the latter cowering in a corner instantly coming to mind.

"Yeah, OK, I won't come near you, sorry," he said carefully, making sure to press himself as far back against the wall as he could. Malfoy was eyeing him suspiciously but seemed to have calmed down.

At least, he would have calmed down, if there wasn't a noise from the side, causing Malfoy to jump, press his hand to his mouth and throw himself at Harry, pressing his free hand to Harry's mouth. They stayed like that—Harry, perfectly still because Malfoy was literally straddling him and his mind wasn't exactly being very helpful in the current situation, and Malfoy, staring off to the side with a wide-eyed expression of alarm.

Harry shifted slightly, but Malfoy immediately stilled him, moving even closer as the voices drew nearer. Harry focused on trying to identify the voices, but was unsuccessful as they were extremely muffled—although, he found one of the lower male voices to be oddly familiar.

What's Snape doing near the Room of Requirement?

His own panic level beginning to rise, he tried to pry Malfoy off of him, but the other wouldn't relent.

"Malfoy—gerroff—"

"Stay. Still."

He paused from the intense glare Malfoy shot him and pressed himself against the wall, breathing in and holding his breath when the voices sounded just around the corner. He felt Malfoy shift and felt something thin and hard tap against his shoulder, followed by the familiar sensation of an egg being cracked over his head and the coolness flowing downwards and encompassing him. Malfoy then shifted off off him so that he was kneeling with his back to him, one hand clutching his wand and the other clutching Harry's arm.

"Malfoy—"

"For once in your life, Potter, shut up!" Malfoy whispered hurriedly as someone rounded the corner and immediately spotted them—or rather, spotted Malfoy, considering Harry was currently under a Disillusionment Charm.

"What's this, what's this? If it isn't Mister Malfoy! What's a student doing traipsing around here after class hours, eh?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, I was just taking a walk to clear my head and I somehow ended up here," Malfoy said evenly, although his grip on Harry's arm tightened.

"I see, I see," Slughorn replied jovially, patting his bulging stomach and nodding sympathetically—although he had an odd, glassy look in his eyes and a weirdly peaceful expression on his face. "Even the best of us get lost wandering around these hallways. Maze-like, they are, wouldn't you say?"

"I completely agree, sir."

"Very good, very good, off you go, then!"

Malfoy glanced over his shoulder and then jerked his head in a motion that probably meant he wanted Harry to follow him—that, and the fact that he was yet to loosen his grip on Harry's arm.

What're you playing at, Malfoy?

Malfoy slowly got to his feet and Harry followed, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Slughorn then began hobbling away and Malfoy followed with Harry in tow. The two boys slowed down their pace as they reached the fifth floor and Harry leaned close to Malfoy's ear and whispered, "What're you playing at, Malfoy? Why are you making me go with you?"

"Because, you stupid fool, you're currently under a Disillusionment Charm and while Slughorn is a great big oaf, if you happened to bump into any other professor, detention would be the least of your problems."

Harry shook his head. Nothing Malfoy was saying was making any sense. He waited till they reached the second floor to ask the question that was bothering him the most:

"But why are you helping me?"

Malfoy snapped his head towards Harry and fixed him with a cold glare that held a hint of uncertainty. "Are you really that stupid, Potter—oh, never mind, you definitely are that stupid."

They continued to walk quietly behind a humming Slughorn and just as they reached the dungeons, Malfoy suddenly asked, "Professor, who was with you back there?"

"Hm, what? Back where, my boy?"

"In the seventh floor corridor, sir."

Slughorn looked around confusedly, as though he had forgotten who he was and what he was doing. "Ah, yes, I mean, no, no one was with me, my boy, just me taking a stroll and chatting up the portraits, yes, yes."

Malfoy shared a look with Harry but followed Slughorn into the Potions classroom, nevertheless. Just before entering, Malfoy shoved Harry against the wall and whispered, "Make one wrong move and I will not save your sorry arse again, you hear?"

Harry nodded, but realising Malfoy couldn't see, made to answer, but the other had already stridden into the classroom. Dusting himself and grumbling under his breath, Harry followed, making sure not to bump into anything by accident.

"Ah, yes, Mister Malfoy! Come here, come here, take this," Slughorn said absentmindedly, as though having forgotten Malfoy was there. He held out a small vial with a bulging bottom and shook it slightly, causing the pearly white liquid inside to glisten and shine with an array of colours.

"What's this, Professor?" Malfoy asked nervously, taking the vial, and Slughorn chortled happily.

"Haven't guessed it, then? Too bad, too bad, I suppose Potter would have been a better bet."

Malfoy bristled at the comment but stayed still as Slughorn offered him the Potions textbook and flipped it to a particular page. Harry watched as Malfoy skimmed the contents of the page and then raising his eyebrows, scoffed.

"Amortentia?"

Slughorn chuckled merrily and clapped Malfoy on the shoulder. "That's right, boy! Thought it would be fun to get the students to have a go at it, considering it's right around the corner."

Malfoy stared at Slughorn blankly. "What is, sir?"

"Valentine's Day, of course! Come now, Mister Malfoy, don't tell me you don't have a special someone that you would want to have sniff this potion, eh?"

Slughorn winked and Malfoy grimaced, looking over his shoulder to where he must have assumed Harry was standing—except, Harry had slowly made his way to the very front to stand beside Malfoy, curious about the potion. Slughorn hobbled over to his desk and picked up another vial of Amortentia, which was beside a very familiar looking vial of silvery liquid.

"The Draught of Peace."

Malfoy snapped his head to the side, his eyes bugging out of his head as both he and Harry had murmured the name at the same time. Harry brought his finger to his lips, belatedly realised Malfoy couldn't see, and turned to eye the vial that he remembered seeing a pinned picture of, in the tattered potions textbook he currently used—the one that belonged to the Halfblood Prince.

Slughorn was motioning for Malfoy to come closer as he poured the contents of the Amortentia into a small dish, the spiralling smoke instantly wafting a heavy aroma towards them that drew both boys closer involuntarily. They both leaned over the side of the desk, closing their eyes and inhaling deeply.

A sudden explosion of colour and smells assaulted Harry's senses and he pulled back with alarm, clapping a hand to his mouth to keep from shouting out. His senses slowly cleared, leaving behind the lingering scent of a strong, yet familiar, musky aroma, the image and feel of air whipping around him, and the warm, homely scent of Molly's homemade pies. He smiled quietly to himself as a warmth settled over him. Although he wasn't sure what the first smell had been, the next two had definitely reminded him of whenever he was flying on a broom and all the times he spent with the Weasleys or in the Gryffindor Common Room, by the fire.

He jerked out of his daze when Malfoy stepped back, the same dazed expression on his face that Harry knew had been on his. Slughorn was chortling quietly to himself.

"Well, what did you smell, Mister Malfoy?"

"Mm," Malfoy said, rubbing his neck and blinking slowly. "Cedar wood from the Slytherin Common Room, the bottle of expensive parchment ink father bought me for Christmas, and…"

"And?" Slughorn asked excitedly. Malfoy tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully and Harry felt his curiosity grow as he waited for Malfoy to say what else he had smelt.

But just then, the door to the Potions classroom was thrown open and a harassed-looking Hermione stepped in, looking thoroughly winded.

"Oh," she squeaked, her voice trembling as she panted, "I'm so sorry, Professor, I just thought—I wondered if Harry would be in here—"

"Ah, Miss Granger, just the person I needed!" Slughorn exclaimed rather suddenly, apparently surprising even himself by his outburst. Rising from his seat with a huff and waddling towards the door, he beckoned for a fidgeting Hermione to come in.

Harry felt fingers curl around his wrist and looked up to see Malfoy mouth, "Run."

He nodded and ran, grabbing Malfoy and pushing past Slughorn, then grabbing Hermione and running out the door. They ran till he was sure Slughorn wouldn't come after them and Harry let go of the two, rounding on Malfoy and shaking him by the shoulder—the effects of the Amortentia still leaving him feeling woozy.

"Come on, Malfoy, undo this bloody Disillusionment Charm, I've got places to be," Harry snapped, causing Hermione to let out a startled yelp, her wide, brown eyes scanning the place he was standing at.

"Harry?" she squeaked as Malfoy groaned and flicked his wand at Harry, causing the familiar sensation to trickle down his spine and he watched as his body slowly reappeared.

"Alright, Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione started to say something when Malfoy grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around—causing Harry to stumble and get close enough to Malfoy to get a whiff of the musk he was wearing. It instantly clicked with another familiar scent—

"Potter—"

"Is that…Malfoy, are you wearing that Mulberry scent?"

Malfoy furrowed his brows, looking confused. "What?"

Harry waved his hand vaguely. "The scent you're wearing, is it that Mulberry one?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, the dazed expression still on his face. "Madam Mulberry's Musk for Men? Yes, Pansy found the trial strip in some tabloid and insisted I wear it. Anyway, Potter—"

"I'm wearing it too, see!"

Harry stuck his wrist to Malfoy's face and watched with amusement as the other spluttered and then sniffed tentatively, his eyes going wide as realisation sparkled in them.

"That's…" he looked at Harry with a conflicted expression and Hermione made an exasperated sound from behind.

"Harry, what's going on? You're acting…different. Did something happen?"

"Yeah," he said rather happily, "Slughorn made us sniff some of that love potion stuff."

"L-Love Potion?" Hermione spluttered, her face going red and Harry laughed, the same light-headed, stuffy feeling still enveloping him.

"Amortentia," Malfoy offered sullenly, his cheeks tingeing pink.

Hermione gawked at them. "He made you smell Amortentia? What in the world for?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, but my head feels all foggy, is it supposed to do that?"

Hermione looked at him with worry and then turned to Malfoy. "You two better…get some fresh air. Amortentia can be rather…potent."

Malfoy mumbled something about returning to the Slytherin Common Room but Harry grabbed his arm and began dragging him outside. "C'mon, Malfoy, no need to be a prat about taking a walk!"

"Don't wanna take a walk," Malfoy grumbled childishly, digging his heels into the space in between the flagstones and refusing to budge.

"What're you being such a git for? I'm only helping!"

"Don't need help from Potty Potter…"

"Don't say that! Come on, I know just the place to take you!"

He grinned when Malfoy relented with a groan, letting Harry drag him towards the Clock Tower. They had just stepped under the arch when there was a little bang and shimmering pieces of paper came raining down on them. Still dazed, they looked around, both staring at the shining confetti with awe.

"Congratulations!" yelled two girls wearing yellow Hufflepuff jumpers with a badger on it, as they jumped out from behind pillars. "You're the fiftieth couple this week to pass under the Arch of Love!"

"What bloody—" Malfoy started, but Harry elbowed him in the side and nodded enthusiastically at the two.

"Do we win a prize?"

"Yes! Here—" one stretched out her hand while the other moved her wand in a circle and said, "Orchideous!"

"Ohh!" Harry exclaimed as a circlet of mistletoe appeared in the girl's hand and she handed it over to him with a blush.

"Have a happy Valentines'!"

"It isn't even the fourteenth," Malfoy grumbled, but Harry dragged him away before he could say anything else.

They had just reached the Great Lake when Harry was feeling the cloud around his senses lift and the world seemed to slowly get clearer. He sighed and turned towards Malfoy—only to come face to face with the vial of Amortentia Slughorn had given the blond. He squinted at Malfoy, unsure of what exactly he wanted, and the blond uncorked the vial and they watched as the silvery steam swirled out.

"Malfoy, what're you doing—"

"Testing a theory. Smell it."

Already feeling himself drawn in, he shut his eye and inhaled deeply, his senses once again assaulted by the familiar image of him flying, with the air whipping around him, of Molly's scrumptious pies, and of—

"Madam Mulberry's Musk for Men," Malfoy murmured and Harry cracked his eyes open to peer at the blond.

"What?"

"The smell…it's the Mulberry Musk…"

He then proceeded to grab Harry's hand and sniffed his wrist, a thoughtful expression on his face. He nodded, raising shimmering silver eyes to Harry's emerald ones.

"I can smell you," he said in an odd little voice and Harry felt the familiar warmth of the potion envelope him once again.

"And I can smell you," he replied idly, suddenly having the urge to raise his hand and run his fingers through Malfoy's silky locks.

A weird emotion flickered across Malfoy's face and he snapped the vial shut, turning around and throwing it straight into the lake. Harry blinked, suddenly missing the misty scent that had fogged his senses.

"What'd you do that for?" he demanded and Malfoy pursed his lips.

"It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not," he said randomly, turning around and starting to walk away. Harry immediately grabbed his wrist, spontaneously acting upon his desire to do so, and Malfoy turned to face him, a serene expression on his face that Harry had never seen before. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

After a minute of staring at each other, Harry finally blurted out, "It's OK, then, because I hate you for what you are."

Hermione looked up from her book as Harry flopped onto the sofa beside her with a groan. Her eyes immediately fell to his bleeding nose and she gasped.

"Oh, Harry, what happened!"

"Go'd punjed," came the pained reply and she immediately drew out her wand with a shake of her head.

"Oh, Harry. Episkey. Really. Have you finally learnt your lesson regarding obsessing over people who shouldn't be obsessed over?"

He stared at the fire and nodded sullenly. She patted his knee and settled back to read her book.

"Good."

Dialogue Prompts:

"It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not." 3

Character Prompts:

Draco Malfoy 6 (If you choose him, you can get a bonus of 1 point for incorporating the dark mark into your story)

Oliver Wood 7 (If you use him, you can only choose three word prompt)

Seamus Finnigan 6 (If you use him, you may choose one extra word prompt)

Hermione Granger 5

Pairing Prompts:

Draco/Harry 4 (You may choose one extra potions prompt if this story is set in their Sixth year)

Word Prompts:

Nipple Clamps (You can use this prompt to negate the condition of ONE other prompt, however this prompt has 0 points)

Silk

Potions Prompts:

Amortentia 4 (You get 5 bonus points for tying in a canonical symbolism of this. Eg. Ron smelling lavender sprigs to show his love for Lavender)

Draught of Peace 8 (If you choose this then you may not choose any one word prompts)

Spell Prompts:

Episkey 4 (You may only use this in conjunction with a Gryffindor Character)

Orchideous 6 (You may only use one word prompt)

Theme Prompts:

Valentine's Day 10 (Note that if you use Valentine's day then you may only choose three one word prompts)

Grand Total: 70 points.

A/n: I'm actually planning on making this a two-shot and writing a chapter from Draco's POV because, hopefully you've noticed all the subtle indications of a much deeper plot that I've left, there's an epic story line here and I could barely even scratch the surface with this having been from Harry's POV. So I may just write another chappie for this!

A penny for your thoughts and ginormous [digital, because certain cuties keep asking for their cookies] cookies for your reviews!

Lots of love~