A/N: For I am not a native speaker, I'm sorry for the SPaG issues this work surely contains:)

Noble Intentions

Chapter 1

The wind blew strongly from the lake, lifting leaves and dust from the ground and biting angrily into Harry's cheeks. Storm was coming. A few days ago, the weather had been still beautiful, the sun caressing faces, slight breeze ruffling hair, making everyone smile. Now, however, the sky was boring, depressing grey, clouds hanging so low it made you think you could touch them, heavy with water waiting to fall down and make everything wet and muddy. It definitely didn't lighten the mood in the castle where students were hunted by stress from exams planned for the next week. The only relaxing activity was Quidditch and everyone who had a little time to be away from the library or learning groups was usually present at the Quidditch pitch where teams practised almost constantly. Everyone was excited especially about the upcoming finale between Gryffindor and Slytherin and both teams were doing their best to not disappoint their supporters. Harry walked slowly to the broom shed, having just ended his practice. Ron had decided to stay behind with a couple of other players, lazy to get into the learning routine Hermione put all of them through lately. Harry knew she meant well, but everyone was slowly becoming fed up with her constant nagging. He didn't care much. There were more important things for him to do than sitting in the Common room and staring into a book, pretending to be reading. He could do that as well in his bed which was far more comfortable. Or he could just lie in his bed, stare at the Marauder's Map and actually concentrate.

Malfoy was up to something and no one cared. Even his best friends didn't believe him. It seriously kind of pissed him off. They could at least try to believe his instincts for once. Harry knew they were far from flawless, it was his fault Sirius was dead, after all, but the lack of belief from them disappointed him because he was simply sure. What disappointed him the most, though, was the lack of interest in the whole matter from the side of teachers and, most importantly, Dumbledore. He behaved as if the incident with Katie and Ron hadn't happened. One would expect a proper investigation, but Harry wasn't aware of any such activity. Something was wrong, something was going on, and if his friends didn't see it, or didn'twant to see it,then he didn't care. He would find out anyway, eventually.

Harry had reached the broom shed and was approaching the place where he usually stored his Firebolt when running steps caught his attention. Ernie Macmillan, the Hufflepuff prefect, was hurriing towards the castle. He didn't notice Harry and just ran off and when nothing else happened, Harry just shrugged and placed his broomstick in its place before leaving the shed, already looking forward to having a nice hot shower in the locker room. Who would have thought that June could be so cold? It felt a little bit like an omen. In the hindshight, at least.

He entered the locker room, finally hidden from the reach of the cold air and possibility to get soaked in rain. The rooms were silent and empty, steam still covering the part where bathroom was located from its previous use by the Slytherin players, with whom Gryffindors shared this place. He started to take off his gear when an open locker caught his eye. It was weird because everyone always kept their lockers safely closed. Not because they were afraid of a theft, but because it was quite usual that the players pulled pranks on each other. And no one was particularly happy with gear covered in glue or coloured shiny pink. This locker, however, was half-open and since no one was in sight, Harry decided to check whose belongings were in it and let them know so they could lock it safe.

There wasn't anything particularly suspicious in the locker. Everything was neatly stored in place, Quidditch gear, big green and grey towels and a leather, expensive looking school bag. Hold a minute, a school bag? Who would leave their schoolbag in an unlocked locker room? Who would bring a school bag there in the first place? Harry, being as impulsive as ever, didn't bother with privacy matters and took the bag from the locker, effectively destroying the neat tidiness. He stuffed his hand inside to come up with the first book which got into his hand.

Moste Potente Potions read the title and Harry frowned. He had known this book particularly well since his second year at Hogwarts, despite the fact that it was a book from the Restricted section of the library. And for a good reason, too. He opened the tome searching for the names of people having borrowed it in the past. He flicked through its pages and finally, on the inner side of the back cover, was a small card attached. Only a few names were mentioned since not so many people took interest in very dangerous poitions and even less of them got their hands on this book. Hermione was listed there, then a couple of Ravenclaws, and there, in the last line, it was. The name of one and only Draco Malfoy.

Harry gaped at the paper for a while before grinnigh winningly. Even Hermione would find the fact that Draco Malfoy had borrowed this book highly suspicious. He was sure of it, considering Hermione's state after Ron had been almost killed. By a very rare and dangerous poison. That couldn't have been a coincidence.

Harry looked around the locker room to make completely sure he was alone and then opened the bag all the way. It was his only chance, he told himself while rummaging through its contents. Malfoy might have been hiding something in there, something which would give him away and Harry would find it.

To be fair, he wasn't even sure what he was looking for, but disappointment from finding nothing except a few neatly stored quills and parchments, couple of text books and a package of small chocolates stung anyway. He had almost given up and started to put the things back, when a small rectangular bump on the inner side of the bag caught his attention. A secret pocket? His heart started to beat faster with excitement, as he tried to find a way to extract whatever it was hidden in the bag and, after having found none, he opted for a quick Diffindo. A small sharp cut appeared, but it was enough for him to stick a couple of fingers inside and get hold of the object.

It was only a small black notebook, its covers, framed by tiny silver lines, held firmly together by a delicate silver lock. He wanted to open it and see what was hidden inside, but the lock didn't let him in. He thought about an appropriate spell, but then decided against it. He didn't know what the notebook contained and as far as he knew, it could have been filled with some dark magic. He had to think it through first and maybe get help from Hermione. When he thought about it a bit more, everything seemed wrong. Malfoy's bag left there for everyone to see, stuffed with dangerous books and secret notebooks, waiting to be found. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't give it much thought, but this was Malfoy. All Harry's instincts screamed that something was off about the whole situation. So he put everything into its original state and returned the bag to its place in the locker, half closing the door. He changed into his unifom, skipping his planned shower, already eager to inform Hermione about his findings. When he checked the room one last time before leaving, the only evidence of what had happened was the weight of the notebook in his pocket.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, his eyes already looking for Hermione, he was surprised to see Ron first. He hadn't expected him there, not yet. Then he took the whole situation in and frowned. Ron was sitting in front of the fire, firmly clutching a cup in slightly shivering hands, his hair damp as if he had just come from a pool and his face looked green. Hermione was perched on a neighbouring armchair, gently talking to him, but Ron didn't seem to hear her, still unblinkingly staring in front of him as if seeing a ghost. The few other people present in the Common room were talking excitedly, giving Ron looks here and then. Harry climbed all the way in and was headed to his best friends, but Collin Creevey, the ever present fifth year, approached him first.

"What do you think happened, Harry?" he fired before even greeting him.

"What do you mean exactly?" Harry asked and frowned a bit more at the expression Colin wore. It was the one which half of the school wore whenever something terrible happened. That kind of pure excitement from getting something to gossip about, even though the circumstances might be less then pleasurable. Colin's eyes shone with it, as he clutched his camera in his hands as if it were something precious.

"About Malfoy, of course." Colin raised an eyebrow expectantly, obviously waiting for what Harry had to say about the matter. His face fell a bit when Harry only gaped at him without a clue.

"I still have no idea what you're..." he didn't even finish his sentence, before Hermione appeared at his side, giving Colin one of her pointed glares.

"Back off, Colin, did you hear me?" she hissed at the boy, grabing Harry's arm and tugging him behind her towards the fireplace and Ron. Harry knew right away he would be told something he wouldn't like at all.

"Hermione, what...?"

"Wait, Harry, Ron will tell you," she said as if that explained everything. She pointed Harry to another armchair, this time opposite to Ron's and sat at her previous place. Ron, however, didn't look as if he was going to tell anything to anyone in the moment. His face wasn't green anymore, but its colour wasn't natural healthy one, either. The feeling of dread in Harry's gut seemed even stronger now.

"Ron? Mate, what's with you? What happened?" Harry tried silently. Ron looked at him with an empty look in his eyes. "Ron?" Again nothing, only a stare. "Hermione, " Harry turned to his friend, who was now biting on her fingernails nevoursly. She only did this when she was to deliver some unpleasant news. It didn't help Harry much. "Could you maybe explain to me what the bloody hell is going on? Has someone died or what?" As soon as he had asked the last question, shivers ran down his spine.

She looked away, but then finally turned her head in his direciton and opened her mouth to speak.

"We thought you might have already heard," she started.

"Well, I obviously haven't." Harry was getting annoyed. "So will you tell me now?"

"I don't know everything, Harry, only what McGonagall told me and what I've managed to get out of Ron, but one thing is for sure. Malfoy is in the Hospital wing. Harry, he tried to commit suicide." Harry's world shuddered. That could not have been true. It must have been some mistake.

"What? How? Who found him?" was all he managed to say.

"Apparently, after you left, the others went flying around the grounds and they saw him near the lake. And when Ron went to find out what was going on, he noticed his sliced wrists. Ernie ran for Madame Pomfrey and they took him to the castle." So that is what the rush was for, Harry realised, but nothing made sence to him. Malfoy and a suicide? It was for sure some prank, some stupid game he played to get attention. Then he looked at Ron. Maybe not, then.

"And will he make it? Will he be alright?"

"That's the thing, Harry. No one knows. The blood loss was serious but it was already dealt with and he should have been better by now. But he isn't. He thought this all obviously through, because he took some poison, too. This wasn't done to mess with us. He seriously wanted to die, Harry. He made sure no one could save him." Harry stared at her in complete shock. So it was true. Malfoy really cut his wrists wide open and took a poison to ensure it. He slumped back into the armchair, let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

"Harry, there was blood, so much blood..." Ron's voice suddenly cut through the silence. It was trembling. "And his eyes... so empty. I've never seen anything like that." He sounded like he might faint any second. Harry looked at his friend's face and decided that sitting there doing nothing wouldn't help anything. He stood up and gestured to Hermione.

"We should get him upstairs, he needs some rest," he explained and took Ron under one of his shoulders, Hermione doing the same on the other side. They helped Ron get up and draged him slowly upstairs. Harry was silently thanking God it was possible for girls to come up to boys' dorms. He helped Ron to lie down, while Hermione supplied them all with another steaming cups of tea and made herself comfortable on Neville's bed which neighboured Ron's, too. Harry sat on his own bed, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened that day, when a sharp pain traveled through his right thigh. He, startled, touched the place through his trousers when he realised the cause. It was corner of Malfoy's secret notebook, which was, as Harry noticed right now, covered in metal, its edges sharp as knives. He had almost forgotten about this notebook, all he could think of before was the bag in the locker rooms. Now it all made sense. Malfoy didn't need the bag anymore. He had known he wouldn't need it.