It was in a squashy armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room that Harry sat thinking back on the days events. His first day back was no different than any other; whisperings and mutterings had followed him round all day and he was glad that he could get some peace and quiet by the fire with his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. They were busy writing an essay that Snape had set them in their last lesson, Double Potions, about the twelve uses of dragons blood and there relevance to potions.

Harry however had more pressing matters on his mind. He had come to the conclusion that Malfoy wasn't and never was going to be a Death Eater, so why had he gone with Dumbledore the previous night straight after the feast? Whenever he tried to voice his concerns with Ron or Hermione he was told to mind his own business, Harry couldn't understand why they weren't as curious as he was.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, will you just be quiet about Malfoy, he isn't worth your time" was Hermione's answer to Harry's unsuccessful attempt at trying to get them responsive, again.

"Why are you so interested in him anyway?" asked Ron

Truth be told, Harry had no idea why he was so interested. He looked at Ron exasperatedly before replying.

"I'm not; its just he's acting strange"

"Leave it" said Hermione.

"Oh fuck it, I'm going for a walk" Harry responded and with that he jammed his books back in his bag and climbed out of the portrait hole. They just didn't understand that he needed to know in order to find truth and he couldn't very well say 'Oh by the way the boy we've despised for years holds answers and truth for me', He couldn't understand it himself.

He didn't know where he was going but it didn't matter, it was only four o'clock. It was when he was heading towards the marble staircase that he first thought of visiting Hagrid but the looks Ron and Hermione would give him if they'd known he'd gone without them stopped him from doing so, it was just as well because he could hear Malfoy's voice coming from the dungeons corridor.

"I told you I'm fine, now will you please just piss off and leave me alone!"

"But Draco your arm..." came the voice of Pansy Parkinson, she were almost begging him to see reason about something or other.

His arm? What about his arm? A thousand theories's whizzed in and out of Harry's brain before the solution hit him. Merlin, he had been so stupid. It was all obvious to him now; Malfoy had been branded with the Dark Mark. He must have gone to Dumbledore for ways of hiding it by means of magic while he was in school as a thing like that could give his whole position away, but wait, that didn't add up; Why go to Dumbledore when Voldemort would just as easily cover up the mark until he had finished school? Plus, it didn't explain why Malfoy was being civil with him for the first time in his life. It was definitely suspicious and obviously Pansy thought so too.

"Just forget it, that's my problem not yours" Harry heard the turning of a heel and steady footsteps leading to where he knew was the Slytherin common room, He also heard a slight sob coming from Pansy before she followed suit and her footsteps died away.

Abandoning his walk, Harry went back the way he had come thinking hard. He had been completely wrong, Malfoy hadn't betrayed his family at all, he was in league with them. He hadn't been worrying about the consequences of said betrayal; he had been worrying about the job Voldemort must have asked him to do. But what could that job be? It had to involve Hogwarts unless Malfoy had found a way to sneak in and out unnoticed every so often, but that still didn't explain why Dumbledore had needed to know.

Harry reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance to Gryffindor Tower very quickly.

"Phoenix feathers" Harry said and the portrait swung forward to allow him access.

He wasted no time in telling Ron and Hermione what he had heard, Hermione was biting her lip, as she often did when deep in thought, and Ron's exclamation of 'Blimey' was enough to tell Harry that he had captured their attention at last. Although he didn't want to tell them about the exchange of smiles, he wanted as many opinions on why Malfoy had gone with Dumbledore and also what had been said at that particular meeting.

Despite Harry's need for these answers, they were not going to come in the forms of Ron and Hermione as they were just as befuddled as he was. The best they had come up with was that Malfoy had been commanded to think up a sob story to Dumbledore and claim he was on their side so as to act as spy but from all the years of knowing Malfoy, they knew he was a wimp when it came to actions like this so they had dismissed the idea.

They continued discussing ideas on their way down to the Great Hall for dinner but were, unfortunately, none the wiser. Harry and the others had always had many explanations for people's behaviour in these sorts of situations before now and to find that they had no answers was slightly disconcerting.

It was when Harry had almost finished his very muggle meal, consisting of sausages and mash, when he turned, as he frequently did now, to the Slytherin table. He almost dropped his fork as he saw Malfoy reaching out for his pumpkin juice with his left arm, the arm that should bear the Dark Mark, only to find that there wasn't one. If Malfoy had covered it already then Pansy wouldn't have said anything so what was she talking about, 'But Draco your arm...' It didn't make any sense. What about his arm?! Harry knew better than to tell Ron and Hermione about this so he decided to play along with their original idea of the Dark Mark until he had befriended Malfoy. He still didn't have the faintest clue as to how he was going to befriend a boy who had loathed him for the majority of his life but he did know that that was the only way in which to get the answers he truly desired. Harry wished he knew what he was searching for in life, not knowing made the whole thing so much more difficult.

Harry pushed his unfinished plate away from him and stood up ready to leave with the excuse of not feeling too good and wanting an early night. He made his way to Gryffindor Tower alone. He knew he ought to get started on Snape's Homework, and he also had to practice spells for Transfiguration and Charms, but his mind wouldn't let him concentrate on anything but Malfoy so he retired to bed going over everything he had already thought of and wondering if he'd missed something, when he decided he hadn't he went back to running the conversation between Malfoy and Pansy through his head. This didn't help with the original plan of sleep and so he tried to clear his mind, after all he had been practicing this all through fifth year in an attempt to master occlumency, the only thing, with the exception of potions that he was absolutely terrible at. This seemed to work and Harry wasn't woken even as Ron entered the dormitory hours later.

In comparison to the previous night's dreamless sleep, Harry woke up a few times sweating and in extreme fear, he was used to it, ever since he had started Hogwarts dreamless nights were scarce. He usually dreamt of death and Voldemort, things a sixteen year old wizard rarely came into contact with, but tonight, for the first time, he dreamt of someone else's fear, a certain blonde, Slytherins fear to be exact. Lucius Malfoy had been towering over his son with his wand outstretched screaming incomprehensible words whilst flashes of light shot from the tip of his wand to land squarely in Draco's chest. Draco? Since when had he ever called Malfoy, Draco? It was unsettling enough to think that just because of two smiles he could forget the years of hatred and abuse but to call the boy who made it so by his first name. Oh, fuck it; what did it matter anyway? Just as long as no-one else knew. Harry decided he could call Draco, Draco in his subconscious, he'd be in deep shit from his friends if they ever heard him say Draco, they'd think he had some sort of crush on him or something, after all it had been said before now and Harry didn't quite like the idea of giving them another reason to start the rumours off again which were, for the record, complete bullshit. Deciding he was never going to go back to sleep any time soon, he grabbed parchment, ink and his favourite quill and walked to the sofa by the now, dimming fire and set to work on his potions essay.