At Your Service

by faithwood

COMPLETED. Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved. An eight year fic. Post-DH. EWE. HPDM. SLASH. Mature content. Daily updates.

4. 6 & 7

FYI: Because some of you asked. This story has 96K words, 9 chapters and an epilogue, and it's completed and already posted in its entirety on LJ and on AO3. Some chapters are shorter, others about 20K long. I know some of you would prefer shorter posts, and I'm sorry, but, starting next week, I won't have much free time, so I'm posting as fast as I can. The final (and quite long) two chapters and the epilogue will be up tomorrow. Thank you so much for your reviews. They mean a lot.

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Chapter Six

The Wanderer

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"Augustus Derrick's missing."

"He's right there, Harry." Hermione pointed toward the fireplace, where the sixth-year in question was sitting in Harry's favourite armchair.

"Oh." Harry cleared his throat. He should have seen him. "No one's missing, then."

"Good." Hermione smiled, though it looked strained. "Good luck."

"I'll probably need it." He probably would. Malfoy might not even show up. Or he would be more troublesome than helpful.

"Hex him if you must," Ron advised, with a hopeful lilt to his tone.

Harry made a noncommittal sound. He hoped it would not come to that.

After saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione, purposely ignoring their oddly intent looks, Harry walked out of the common room and headed toward the dungeons. Ron and Hermione were not happy with him, he knew. They disapproved of Harry's suggestion to mix the new members with the old ones. Or, more precisely, to pair up Slytherins with the members of other houses. Or, even more precisely, to pair up Malfoy with Harry.

"It makes more sense to have two people from the same house patrol together," Ron had insisted, but Harry had pointed out that was not how it worked so far, anyway. Harry had been paired up with Luna because Parvati wanted to patrol with her Ravenclaw boyfriend. Neville, on the other hand, wanted to patrol with his Hufflepuff girlfriend and had wreaked havoc in their ranks, trading places left and right to make it happen.

Harry's argument had made Ron very grumpy, indeed. "Yes, well, their reasons were at least understandable," Ron had said. He had also mumbled something about Harry picking interesting examples.

"But I just want to keep an eye on—"

Ron had thrown up his hands and yelled, "Fine! Whatever, Harry. I reckon we'll have to pair up Luna with Zabini, then." That thought seemed to have cheered Ron up. "Ah, to be a fly on the wall when those to get together."

Harry could not help agreeing with that sentiment. He had asked Blaise Zabini to join them not long after he had spoken with Malfoy. Zabini had shrugged, said, "All right," and stuffed the Galleon into his pocket. Harry had to wonder how Zabini would react to Luna and her tendency to make little sense; Luna never failed to provoke a reaction.

They might fare better than Malfoy and he, though. Whatever happened, Harry hoped it would not come to blows. Every other minute, Harry was convinced Malfoy had no feelings for him except absolute hatred, but then he would reflect on Malfoy's behaviour in the hospital wing and today in the library, and he would change his mind all over again. Either way, it was likely they would do nothing more than fight the whole time.

You have no choice, Harry told himself, standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You have to keep him alive and find out what he knows.

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the common room at precisely nine o'clock. He was already scowling. "Daphne and Astoria are all set to go, too," he said promptly. "They're patrolling together. Isn't that curious? I was told that the new members will be paired up—"

"They insisted," Harry said quickly.

"Oh. I see." Malfoy pursed his lips. He does that a lot, Harry thought. "So can I insist on being paired up with someone else?"

Harry shrugged. "Do you plan to? You can, if you like."
"That's good to know," Malfoy said, but then fell silent.

"We're in charge of the fourth floor," Harry said and Malfoy nodded. "Anyone missing from Slytherin?"

"Only Harper."

Harry stopped walking to glare. "Honestly, Malfoy, if you're not even going to bother—"

"I'm not lying. Only Harper's missing!" If Malfoy was faking his indignation, he was putting on a good show.

"That's what your prefects always say, and then we find dozens of students all over the place."

Malfoy's indignation turned to anger in a flash. "I don't give a fuck what the prefects say. I counted all the students twice, and I've threatened them, too; the common room is locked, I cast smoke-detector charms and alarms and if anyone gets out or gets hurt, it will happen only because all your fabulous suggestions and precautions are worth shit. And I'm sure they are. But I've done everything you said I should."
"Er, did Zabini and the Greengrass sisters get to do anything, then?"

"What do I know?" Malfoy spat, but then frowned, patches of pink smudging his cheeks. "I mean, of course they did. We've split the load. Obviously. Why the fuck would I do everything myself?"

Harry studied him, unsure what to think. Malfoy was either lying or bragging, or he had really taken it up on himself to do everything that needed to be done. I counted all the students twice, he had said. That would have taken awhile. But if he was lying, then why take it back a second later? Perhaps he really did it all, just because he liked to boss everyone around.

Or perhaps he did it all because you begged? Harry squashed that thought with a huff.

"You know," Harry said, "last I heard, you didn't give a fuck about any of this. You turned out to be quite an overachiever."

The patches of pink on Malfoy's skin blended and turned redder. Now he'll raise his chin and purse his lips, Harry thought and a second later Malfoy did just that. Harry had to smile.

"And do you know what else I turned out to be?" Malfoy said imperiously. "Quite annoyed. Enough to insist I get a different partner. Right now."

That won't do. "I'm sorry. I truly am," Harry said as demurely as he could. "I'm just pleasantly surprised you're taking it seriously."

Malfoy still looked affronted. "Don't confuse a sense of responsibility with lack of sense, Potter. I still think you're delusional and I'm not taking your 'someone's out to get us all' theory at all seriously."

"Really? At all?" Harry asked. Malfoy's nightly wanderings came to his mind. "Haven't you heard? There's a vampire in Hogwarts."

Malfoy laughed. "If you find a vampire in Hogwarts, Potter, I'll find a hat and eat it."

Malfoy looked genuinely amused. Either because he did not believe the rumour, just like Harry, or he knew for a fact there were no vampires since it was he who the students had been seeing skulking around at night.

"Well, in that case, I'm feeling quite inspired to go vampire-hunting now."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and said no more on the subject, nor did he insist again that he wanted a different partner. They made their way to the fourth floor in silence.

Awkward silence, Harry decided. I should say something. But what? It seemed they could either fight or not talk at all.

If Malfoy was bothered by the lack of conversation, he did not show it. They checked a few hidden passages and rooms along the way, but found no students lurking about. If they had, they would at least have something to talk about, but luck was not on Harry's side tonight.

He's probably bored and will give up by tomorrow. Maybe they should fight. Harry had promised Malfoy he would not be bored. Perhaps he should deliver. Maybe they could fight about the Slytherin and Gryffindor chances to win the Quidditch Cup.

"You are such an idiot!"

Sudden shouts made both of them look around.

"The staircases," Malfoy said, frowning in that direction.

"That's Parvati." Harry was quite sure he recognised her voice. "Come on, let's see what's wrong."

They sprinted down the corridor and reached the staircases in no time. Harry wished they hadn't. Parvati was there with her boyfriend, Anthony Goldstein. They were both red-faced and glaring at each other.

"You know what I'm not, though?" Anthony's voice was low. "BLIND!" he shouted suddenly. "No matter where you are, HE'S THERE, TOO!"

"Er," Harry said and tugged on Malfoy's sleeve. "Maybe we should go..."

Malfoy shook him off. "Oh no! This is fun."

"Oh yeah?" Parvati yelled. "And you know what I'm not? Your girlfriend! It's over, Tony." She spun around but then must have noticed Harry because she turned to yell at him. "You better find me a new partner, Harry. I'm done with this dickhead!"

Harry nodded mutely and she stomped off.

"And I'm done with you!" Anthony screamed after her.

"Oh, you certainly showed her! Smashing comeback!" Malfoy said enthusiastically. Harry wanted to punch him.

Anthony whirled around, eyes narrowing in Malfoy's direction. "You little shit—" Suddenly, a wand was in his hand.

Harry pulled out his own wand and stepped in front of Malfoy, but not before he grabbed Malfoy's wrist to stop him going for his wand as well. "I think you're done for today, Anthony," he said. "You should go back to your common room and cool off."

"And I think you should go fuck yourself, Harry. Or better still, go fuck Malfoy. Fucking Slytherins is so popular these days."

Malfoy shoved Harry aside. His wand was out, his face an ugly grimace. "Oh, I think I'd like to fuck you, Goldstein. I think I'd like to fuck you with something sharp."

Harry wished everyone would stop saying fuck. Malfoy and Anthony both raised their wands and Harry shot forward and cried, "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy growled and Anthony cursed as their wands flew out of their hands and toward Harry. He caught them and glared.

"Anthony, go back to your common room," Harry said, keeping his voice low and as calm as he could. "You'll get your wand back tomorrow."

For a second, Harry was sure Anthony would charge forward and try to strangle him. He certainly looked capable of it. Instead, Anthony reached into his robes, took out something golden and tossed it at Harry's feet. The Galleon clinked heavily as it fell. Harry's stomach turned at the sight of it.

"I won't have any part of your army, Harry," Anthony said. "What's the point?" His gaze flickered to Malfoy. "You've soiled it." With that, he turned and left. Malfoy stared after him, his face completely red.

Harry bent down and picked up the Galleon. "Well," he said, aiming for a light-hearted tone. "You think Nott would take it?"

The question obviously surprised Malfoy. It must have forced him to forget he was supposed to be angry and embarrassed, because he blinked and said, "Er, no?"

"Parkinson?"

"You're joking."

Harry was joking. "Bulstrode?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it. "Maybe," he said after a few seconds.

"Well..." Harry tossed the Galleon at him and Malfoy caught it. "Good luck with that."

Harry could not tell if Malfoy looked pleased or displeased. But then Malfoy put the Galleon away and looked at Harry pointedly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, right." Harry stepped closer to give Malfoy his wand back.

Malfoy's lips pursed as he took it. Harry could not help smiling again. Was that the natural state of Malfoy's lips and they kept trying to return to it?

"You're not its master now, are you?" Malfoy studied his wand.

"Er, no, I don't think so. It wasn't my intent, at least. I didn't plan to keep it."
Malfoy waved his wand and Conjured a yellow canary. It shot up toward the ceiling, flapping its wings madly and looking far too cheerful. Malfoy must have been satisfied with the wand's obedience and he tucked it back into his robes with a nod. Then he gave Harry a sideways look. "Aren't you upset? About that dickhead leaving?"

Harry was upset, but he shrugged. "Never knew Anthony well." If Anthony had not left, Harry reasoned, Parvati might, just to avoid him, and Harry would choose Parvati over Anthony Goldstein anytime. Besides, both Hermione and Ginny thought Anthony was a git, so perhaps it was all for the best. Harry smiled at Malfoy. "See? Never a dull moment. Hadn't I promised?"

Malfoy smiled back, truly smiled, not sneered or smirked. He said nothing, though, just shook his head. Harry felt instantly better and oddly proud of himself.

Harry's pride did not last very long. They ended up discussing Parvati and Anthony, and what at first looked like reasonable commentary on what had transpired, quickly turned into something akin to gossip.

"But she's clearly seeing a Slytherin, haven't you heard?" Malfoy said.

"But Anthony is just a jealous git. He's probably imagining things," Harry argued.

"Or you just don't want to believe your precious Parvati could ever set her eyes on a Slytherin."

"My precious Parvati?"

"She was your Yule Ball date, wasn't she?"

"That was four years ago! And it was a disaster."

"Indeed. We've all seen you dance, Potter."

"Says the person who dressed like a vicar."

"A what? What was wrong with my dress robes? I'll have you know—aren't we checking here?"

Harry blinked. Malfoy stopped walking and pointed at the empty corridor to their left.

"Er, that's a dead end," Harry said. "Nothing here but two fake doors."

The corridor was fairly long and poorly lit and always empty. Even the walls were barren, no tapestries or portraits in sight.

Malfoy mock-gasped. "I thought Harry Potter knew every hideout in the castle. Could it be? Could a Slytherin succeed where a Gryffindor has failed?"

"Never said I knew them all," Harry said curtly. "If you concluded I did, it says more about you than it does about me."
"Clearly, I put too much faith in our Saviour." Malfoy moved toward the empty wall.

Harry paused to study him. There had been no nastiness in Malfoy's statement. He was merely teasing. It sounded good-natured. You saved his life back in May... Maybe he's grateful, confused, Hermione had said. Maybe he expects me to always save him. And I have already failed him once.

"Tap this wall four times," Malfoy was saying, reaching out, "and it will—"

"Malfoy!" Harry sprung forward and grabbed Malfoy's hand. He let out a breath of relief when his fingers wrapped around Malfoy's.

"That wall's been hexed," Harry said. "Look." It was barely perceptible, but if one looked at the right angle, they could see steam rising from the smooth surface.

"Flagrante Curse?" Malfoy asked.

"Maybe." Harry took out his wand and pointed at the wall. Finite Incantatem Vanished the smoke. "Looks like a simple hex. We had a few of those before. A Slytherin specialty, actually. They put those on the doors, so that we get burned if—what?" Malfoy had the most peculiar look on his face. He was staring at Harry, his expression unguarded. He had looked liked that in the library, too, when Harry had said please for the first time. It was an unusual look for Malfoy. His face was soft where once it was hard; expression warm where once it was cold.

Smooth and warm. Warm like the thing I'm holding in my hand, Harry realised, with growing horror. His cheeks flamed harder than the wall had; Harry would not have been surprised if smoke was rising from them, too.

Malfoy's hand, which Harry had snatched and saved from burns, was still firmly in Harry's grip; worse even, it was pressed against Harry's chest, where Harry held it as though heat still threatened to burn it.

Just let go. "Sorry," Harry said, eased his grip, pushed a little, moved his fingers; his fingertips slid against Malfoy's skin. Smooth, so smooth.

Malfoy snatched his hand back and turned toward the door. "We should check if..." Malfoy's voice broke. He tapped the door four times, pushed, and it opened to reveal a dark room. "Empty," he said, staring ahead, not looking at Harry.

"Yeah." I was holding his hand. "They're probably gone." Cradling it.

"Who knows when they cast the hex. I mean, if you weren't checking here before..."

"Yes. I mean, no, I wasn't." Harry cleared his throat but was still unable to swallow properly. "We should..." He pointed vaguely toward the opposite corridor. "There's another hidden room there."

"Oh. Okay." Malfoy closed the door and it turned back into a wall.

Harry attempted to clear his throat yet again. "There's a place further down where we found two couples snogging once. Four people in a tiny little room! Well, the blokes were twins, but still. Mad, isn't it?" Stop babbling. "Come on, I'll show you." Show him what? a voice in Harry's head asked. A convenient place for snogging?

Harry turned away and contemplated taking his wand out to stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "It's down there," Harry said, wishing Malfoy would react and move already. They could continue their patrol and talk and pretend nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened, really. Harry was just...

Harry glanced back and frowned. Malfoy had turned away from the wall, but he was staring at the dark, dead-end corridor ahead and not at Harry.

"Malfoy?" Even as he said that, Harry pulled out his wand.

"There's something there," Malfoy whispered. "I saw something move."

Harry took a careful step forward. "Maybe it's just a shadow." The candlelight did not reach as far as the end of the corridor. The left corner was pitch-dark. Faint shadows danced around it. Harry strained to see if there was something moving in the darkness. He took another step closer, then two. Malfoy stood still.

Get your wand out, Harry wanted to say, but he did not get a chance.

A white flash of skin was their only warning: a bright red beam of light flew straight at Malfoy.

"PROTEGO!" Harry cried. His Shield clashed with the red spell in midair. A few sparks hit Draco right in the chest. Harry saw Malfoy go down. He lost precious time because of it. More spells flew at Harry, one after the other; he had to struggle to keep his Shield up, but at least the spells bounced off it harmlessly.

They're Stunners; they're just Stunners. The force of his relief was overwhelming. Malfoy was fine.

Except Tommy Wright had been Stunned, too, and he was still asleep. But the spells hitting Harry's Shield could not have been very powerful. If they were, his Shield would not have stopped them.

The spells stopped coming abruptly, but they had blinded him with their bright light. The darkness moved and sprang forward.

"STUPEFY!" Harry yelled, but it was too late. The thing was fast. It charged at him like a bull, hitting against his chest. It knocked the air out of his lungs and Harry nearly dropped his wand. He stumbled back and went down. He landed on his elbow and cried out in pain.

"Stupefy!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat at Malfoy's shout. The red spell chased down the figure as it ran. Harry thought Malfoy's Stunner hit it, but the figure swerved toward the staircase and disappeared in a whirl of black robes.

"Ugh," Malfoy groaned and Harry leapt to his feet, the pain in his elbow forgotten.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall, clutching his head as though dizzy. The Stunner must have disoriented him.

"Are you all ri—" Harry began but Malfoy cut him off. "I'm fine! Go, you bloody Saviour. Get it!"

Harry hesitated a moment longer but then whirled around and bounded down the stairs.

The cloaked figure had a head start, but Harry glanced over the banister and saw it speed down the marble staircases, round and round, its black cloak billowing. It turned left on the second floor and disappeared.

Harry was thinking fast. There was a passage on the second floor that led all the way to the ground floor; the figure rushed straight in that direction. But there was another passage on the third floor that led to the almost exact same place, except it was faster.

Harry sprinted forward, turned right and found himself in a narrow corridor in front of the tapestry of singing giants. He poked the grumpy silent giant with his wand and commanded, "Sing!" The giant burst into song and the tapestry squeaked and collapsed backward into the wall, creating a steep slide.

Harry gritted his teeth and jumped into the dark tunnel. He landed on his arse and lurched forward, down the winding slippery slide, lit only by an occasional twinkle of some stray fairy-bug.

The slide tossed him left and right, then bucked and spat him out into a brightly lit corridor.

Harry landed on his feet, but his head was spinning and he had to lean against the nearest wall to stop himself from falling.

When his vision cleared, a cloaked figure emerged from the wall to his left.

There was another hidden passageway right on the opposite wall, a tricky one that led to the kitchens. It only ever admitted one person at a time, because there was a step inside the passageway one could stand on and it would fly fast toward the other side. One had to wait for it to return before they could use it again.

If it goes in there, I've lost it. By the time the step returned or Harry reached the kitchens the long way round, the figure could be on the other side of the castle.

"Stop!" Harry shouted, standing straight and pointing his wand right at the figure's chest. It froze as though shocked to see Harry here.

It's shorter than me, Harry realised, but the thick, black cloak made it impossible to conclude anything else about the figure's build.

"Don't move," Harry said, trying to sound as threatening as he could. His glasses were askew; he could feel it. The sight of him was probably more ridiculous than impressive.

Harry took a step closer; the figure was still frozen, not reaching for its wand or trying to escape. The hood was pulled very low over its face, but Harry could see a narrow chin and full lips, both smeared with blood.

It's an injury, surely.

"Could we..." Harry too another step forward. "Could we talk about this skulking around business like two reasonable people or, er, beings?"

The figure remained silent. Harry could hear it breathe now, with ragged, deep breaths. Was that a growl?

"Harry?" The voice came from behind him. Ginny, Harry thought.

It was a mistake, a stupid terrible mistake, but Harry's head turned ever-so-slightly on instinct. It was all that it took. A split-second later, the figure jumped to the right and disappeared behind the tapestry.

"No!" Harry sent a Stunner after it, but it only hit air. He ran at the tapestry and kicked it with his foot. "Damn it! Open!" It was of no use; the passage was closed.

Ginny ran up to him, breathless. Her wand was out. "Who was that?"

Harry kicked the tapestry again. "It was the bloody vampire!" he yelled. "And now it's gone, thanks to you!"
Ginny's expression went blank. "You're joking." She stared at the tapestry with wide eyes. "It can't have been."

"Yeah, well, now we'll never know." He huffed.

Ginny's eyes flashed. "Well, excuse me. How was I supposed to know you were chatting up a vampire?"

Harry snorted. He felt quite ridiculous suddenly. "It couldn't have been a vampire. It's just... I mean, really."

"Well, did it have fangs?"

"No. It had bloody lips. Blood dripped down to its chin. And it was... rather strong."

Ginny glanced at the tapestry again and then back at Harry. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"Wish I was."

"Blimey!" Ginny breathed. "So there really is someone in Hogwarts, after us all?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "What, you didn't believe me before?"

"Well, I..." Ginny coughed.

Harry shook his head at her and sighed. "Though, you know, I'm not so sure this person is dangerous. It just kept shooting Stunners at us." The word us echoed in Harry's mind. "Damn. Malfoy. I left him alone!"

Harry sprang forward, fully intending to run back to the fourth floor, but Ginny grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back.

"Harry," she said exasperatedly. "Honestly, Hermione's Galleons are completely wasted on you."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Of course." He fished out the Galleon from his pocket and tapped it with his wand, concentrating on Malfoy. The embossed word, "Okay?" appeared on the Galleon and, a few heartbeats later, it burned with Malfoy's reply: Superb.

Harry sagged in relief. He felt his mouth twitch. "He's fine," he informed Ginny.

She was staring at him. "I gathered as much."

Ginny's stare was beginning to make Harry feel uncomfortable. He stuffed the Galleon back into his pocket, even though he had been tempted to send another message, saying "Be right there." He kept his hand in his pocket, too, though, fingers wrapped around the piece of gold, so he could feel the heat in case Malfoy messaged again.

Ginny sighed suddenly. "Come on, then. Let's find Malfoy before someone eats him," she turned and set toward the staircases. "And before you combust."
"I'm not combusting," Harry said, but quickly followed her. If the cloaked person wanted to harm Malfoy, it would have done it already, Harry comforted himself. "Wait," he said, realising something. "Why are you alone?"

"Er..." Ginny looked sheepish. "We found Harper earlier and Lavender escorted him back to his common room."

"But you were supposed to go with her. That's the whole point."

Ginny bristled. "Could the person who just chased down a vampire on his own not lecture me, please?" She glared. "Besides, a threesome is really not my thing."

"Um, sorry?"

Ginny grinned and lowered her voice as though Lavender could hear her otherwise. "Oh, she always insists on taking him back alone. And then she's gone for a good long while." She gave him a pointed look. "Who am I to tell her off? If you want to tell a scarred, traumatised girl she should stop stealing some alone time with her boyfriend, go right ahead."

Harry grumbled. He wanted to do no such thing. But neither Ginny nor Lavender were supposed to wander around alone.

"Although, you know what?" Ginny's eyes widened innocently. "Since you, unlike us, are allowed to go off on your own, maybe we could switch? I could patrol with Malfoy and you with Lavender."
Harry froze on the spot. "Er, I... well, I don't think that—"

One of Ginny's eyebrows rose as though to urge him to continue.

Harry bit his lip. "Sorry. I shouldn't have lectured you. I'm sure you can handle things on your own, if need be."

"Glad we settled that, then," Ginny said dryly.

"I just think Malfoy is in danger." Harry felt the need to point that out. "If not for that, I'd be happy to—" The Galleon burned in Harry's hand. Harry took it out at once. He saw Ginny pull out her own, as well.

Outside. Below AT. Now, the embossed golden letters proclaimed.

"Astronomy Tower?" Ginny whispered. "But..."

Harry's stomach lurched. "Come on," he said, already turning. They sprinted toward the Entrance Hall as one. A student went out to the grounds, that's all, Harry told himself. But both Ginny and he got the same message and the urgency was clear.

"Harry!" Dean came running from the opposite side of the Entrance Hall; Seamus was close behind. "Someone fell! We saw it through a window!"

Heart in his throat, Harry shot a spell at the main door and it flew open; the cold night air hit his face. And then Ron and Hermione were there, too, coming up from behind.

"What happened?" Hermione cried.

"Someone fell," Dean said again. "Someone fell from the Astronomy Tower!"

"Lumos!" Harry yelled and his wand lit the dark night. More lights joined his as they sprinted alongside the castle walls, their feet crushing the frozen snow. Harry's throat and lungs protested against the cold air. Calm down, he thought, but then his eyes spotted a dark figure lying in the snow. It was not far from the place Dumbledore's body once lay broken.

Not Draco, Harry thought, running even faster, please don't let it be Draco.

It was not Draco Malfoy. When Harry reached the body, he saw a pair of brown eyes staring blankly at the sky. A pool of blood soaked the snow beneath Harper's head.

"No!" Ginny cried. "It can't be! Where is—"

A desperate, "NO!" pierced the sky as Lavender rushed forward. "No, no, no!" she screamed, falling to her knees, next to Harper. "I just left him! I just left him in the dungeons. It can't be. It can't."

It can't, but it is. A student died, and I failed. Harry felt nauseous.

Someone brushed against Harry's shoulder. A glint of fair hair caught Harry's attention. Malfoy stood beside him, eyes fixed on Harper. His face was white as the snow.

Accio Firebolt, Harry thought, raising his wand. A window crashed in the distance and the Firebolt came zooming, flying straight at Harry. Someone yelped in shock, but Harry ignored them, jumped and mounted the broom, pulling the handle upward. It shot toward the sky and, seconds later, Harry's feet touched the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. There was nothing else there, only memories.

Someone else whooshed above the tower and dropped down. Harry knew whom to expect. Hermione leapt from the broom, closely followed by Ron.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, rushing to Harry's side. She looked like she had no idea what to say beyond that.

"What are you thinking?" Ron asked, standing behind Hermione. "Who did this?"

"I don't know," Harry said, desperate. "But I know what we should do."

---

Chapter Seven

The Slytherin Bully

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It was nearing midnight when Harry made his way to McGonagall's office. He skulked in front of the hospital wing until then, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to declare Harper was merely Stunned or cursed, and there was still hope for him. No such thing happened; Harper was declared dead upon arrival.

The entrance to the Headmistress's tower opened when Harry reached it. Lavender Brown burst outside, her eyes puffy and red. She looked quite angry.

"Are you all—?" Harry began but Lavender pushed past him and hurried down the corridor. Harry almost followed her, but thought better of it and climbed the winding steps instead.

McGonagall did not look surprised to see him, but she was clearly displeased.

"You should go back to your tower, Harry. It is very late." She did not even offer to draw him a chair, clearly eager to dismiss him as soon as possible.

Harry paused next to her desk. "Professor, I think we should close down the school."

She looked up at him sharply, eyebrows raised. Harry suspected his suggestion did not particularly impress her. "We should?" There was a slight emphasise on we that made Harry bite his lip, but he did not back down.

"You said it yourself, Professor, the students are in danger. And now one of them is finally dead. Nothing we did made any difference. I realise that if we... I mean, if the school is closed we might never find out what's going on, but it's just not worth the risk. How many more have to die? How many more accidents—"

"According to Miss Brown, this was no accident," McGonagall interrupted. "And for once it seems this event, at least, is unrelated to whatever may have happened before." Harry must have looked dubious, because McGonagall sighed and added, "Apparently, there is a student who has expressed a desire to see Harper dead several times in the past. Miss Brown told me she had heard him threaten Mr Harper's life herself. Tell me, what do you know of Anthony Goldstein? He is a member of Dumbledore's Army, is he not? Do you believe him capable of something like this?"

Harry blinked. Fucking Slytherins is so popular these days. That was what Anthony had screamed at Malfoy and Harry on the stairs earlier. Anthony was jealous of some Slytherin Parvati was supposedly seeing. It could have been Harper. But Harry had thought Lavender and Harper were an item... But then it came to him: it had been Parvati, not Lavender, who had cried that Monday after the Slytherin-Gryffindor match and Harper's terrible injury.

None of it mattered, though. Harry reached into his robe pocket, took out a wand and placed it on McGonagall's desk. "Well, there's one thing I know about Anthony Goldstein: he was quite wandless tonight. That's his wand right here; I Disarmed him earlier."

McGonagall frowned at the wand. "Disarmed him why?"

"Well... he'd been fighting with Parvati, and then he threatened Malfoy, so I—"

"He threatened Draco Malfoy, as well?"

"Yes, but—"

"But then it seems he's a rather volatile individual. And Miss Patil is his girlfriend, as I understand it?"

"Yes. Actually, no, they just broke up."

"Tonight? Right before Harper died?" She made an impatient sort of sound. "Harry, Miss Brown presented her theory rather passionately, but to be perfectly honest, I was not convinced, but it seems to me you have just confirmed it."

"But I had his wand."

"One does not need a wand to push someone off a tower. And Mr Harper's unfortunate condition would have made it hard for him to defend himself."

"But why would Goldstein go looking for Harper without a wand? How did he end up on the Astronomy Tower at the exact time Harper did? And Lavender supposedly escorted Harper back to his common room minutes before he died. How did Harper get there so soon, anyway?"
"I think you, more than anyone, Harry, know one can move very fast through the castle if they know the right hidden passageways. And I assume you are aware the Astronomy Tower is a rather popular place for midnight meetings."

That was true. Harry had been surprised to learn that students were still meeting there for late night snogging sessions even after Dumbledore's death. The place seemed more popular than ever. Which, after Harry had thought about it, almost made sense; students were always drawn to eerie places with terrible pasts.

Theoretically, it was possible Anthony had concluded Parvati might meet Harper there. Perhaps he was right. And Harper could often be found lurking all over the castle; they had never worked out how he was doing it. He could have been using hidden passageways.

"I will speak to Mr Goldstein and Miss Patil," McGonagall said. "In the meantime, let us not insist on trying to link every incident together."

Harry almost asked her whether she'd been talking to Hermione. But he understood McGonagall's worries; they were his worries as well. You're trying too hard to connect everything and blame a single powerful Dark Wizard who's behind it all. One you could catch and destroy and make it all better. Harry could not forget that. And the more he thought about it, the more he realised all these incidents could not have been caused by a single person. Out of all his senseless theories, this one made the least sense.

McGonagall dismissed him and Harry left, more troubled than ever. He slept poorly that night. He regretted not mentioning his encounter with the Hufflepuff Vampire to McGonagall, but reasoned she would merely dismiss him even sooner if he had dared to mention it. Besides, the cloaked person did not try to harm either Malfoy or Harry, not really. All it did was shoot a few Stunners their way.

It was early morning when Harry finally fell asleep. He dreamt he was clutching something tightly to his chest. Malfoy's hand, he realised, horrified. But when he looked down, he saw the hand was charred and black as coal.

"No!" he cried in his sleep. "No! I saved you! You didn't burn!"

The hand slipped from Harry's grasp and Harry searched for it in the darkness. It's dead, he thought. It's gone. And then the dream changed suddenly; it was bright and sunny and Malfoy was there, smiling at Harry, unburned and alive. They were standing somewhere high and cold. The Astronomy Tower, Harry realised. And Malfoy stood on the edge. He laughed as he leaned backward, spread his arms and fell.

Harry woke with a cry.

It was morning and Ron was sitting on his bed, already dressed. He was tying his shoelaces, glancing at Harry, who was still catching his breath.

"What?" Harry asked when Ron glanced at him again.

Ron shrugged and fumbled with the ties on his shoes. "Nothing. You talk in your sleep."

Harry swallowed thickly. His throat felt dry. Had he called for Malfoy in his sleep? Harry said nothing and Ron dropped the subject.

Harry got dressed in record speed and hurried down to the common room. He was hoping to talk to Parvati and Lavender before he went down to breakfast, but neither was there. He had not found them in the Great Hall, either. Anthony Goldstein was also missing.

Malfoy was there, though. He looks sad, Harry thought as he watched Malfoy stare at his porridge. Was Harper his friend? Harry had no idea.

"I just can't believe Anthony would murder Harper," Hermione was saying. "He was a bad-tempered sort of person, yes, but a murderer?"

"But, you know, I've been thinking," Ron said. "Remember the match? And how Harper was hit by a Bludger? What if that was Anthony's doing, too?"

"But the Bludgers weren't cursed, remember?" Hermione pointed out.

"Well, he could have Banished them, or something."

"From the stands? Without anyone noticing?"

"Yeah, well, all I'm saying this might not have been the first time someone tried to do in Harper."

Hermione sighed. "Now you sound like Harry."
"Hey!" Harry turned sharply toward Hermione.

"Nice of you to join the conversation. Is Slytherin table no longer interesting?" Ron asked, then yelped. Harry had a sneaking suspicion Hermione stabbed him with her fork.

Harry stood up. "I'm not really hungry," he declared and hurried out of the Great Hall. He decided to ambush Parvati before Potions. It turned out to be a simple undertaking, since she was alone, walking so slowly it looked like she was barely moving at all. She was not crying, but Harry suspected that was only because she had no more tears to shed. Her eyes were very puffy.

I should leave her alone, Harry thought as he did the opposite.

"No!" she said the moment she saw him. "Please, Harry, I just spoke to McGonagall, I can't... I don't know anything, all right."

Harry did not budge. "Nothing at all?"

She sighed. It sounded so tired Harry almost stepped aside. Almost. He couldn't, though.

"I can tell you that, yes, Tony thought I was seeing Harper, but I wasn't. I mean, I liked Harper. We studied together a few times, but... that was it. He was... His parents were Voldemort sympathisers, did you know?" She sniffed. "And sometimes he'd say the most horrible things about Muggle-borns. And about you. I could never... Not with someone like that. Never!" Her dark eyes filled with tears, but she brushed them away angrily. "And I was with Tony! But then, after Harper's accident, I felt so sorry for him. He seemed so lost. And he kept following me. Do you know I found him..." Parvati lowered her voice. "In my dormitory once? My dormitory! I have no idea how he got there. Through a window, maybe. Mental. And then when we asked the Slytherins to join the D.A., Tony went mad. He said I was hoping we'd invite Harper and I'd get to patrol with him. Honestly." She looked away. "I just... I was actually hoping that if we got some Slytherins in D.A. they'd manage to restrain Harper. That worked out well, didn't it?" she said bitterly.

"And you think Anthony may have—"

"No!" she said sharply. "Tony's... he can be such a git. But he's not a murderer, Harry. He's not. You know, last year, when the Carrows wanted all of us to learn the Cruciatus Curse, he'd always get sick and throw up. He's all talk, but he wouldn't hurt a fly, he wouldn't."

Harry was not sure what to think. Sometimes people could seem harmless when they were not.

"And why would he go up to the Astronomy Tower?" Parvati asked. "He hates that place. And so do I. That's where Dumbledore died. He just... He couldn't, Harry. He couldn't. Not him."

She's not trying to convince me that's true, Harry realised. She's trying to convince herself.

"What did McGonagall say?" Harry asked.

Parvati sniffed again. "Tony said he went straight back to his common room, but no one knows exactly when he returned. He has no alibi. McGonagall suspended him. He'll have to be questioned by the Aurors... They called his parents. They'll have to take him home." Parvati fell silent, staring at the floor. "I miss Lavender," she said suddenly, then shook her head, said, "Sorry," and ran past him.

Harry wished he felt any wiser after the conversation with Parvati, but he still had no idea what to believe. Irrationally, he wanted to talk to Malfoy, though that wish made no sense since this time Malfoy had not been involved. Except Harper fell from the Astronomy Tower just like Dumbledore. Harry frowned at his thoughts. If he tried hard enough, he could link everything back to Malfoy. But that could not be right. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he never should have focused on Malfoy at all. Maybe it was only blinding him. Maybe Malfoy knew nothing. Not even about Tommy Wright.

"Sandwich?"

Harry turned at the sound of Ron's voice. Ron stood behind him, with a sandwich in his hand.

"You didn't eat much," Ron said. "So I thought..." He offered the sandwich to Harry. "I brought you two, but I ate one."

Harry smiled, bemused, and accepted the sandwich. "Did Hermione send you? She worries too much."

Ron grimaced. "She didn't. I just... I just didn't want you to think I'm angry with you or something."

"Er, why would I think that?"

Strangely, Ron did look a bit annoyed, then. "Dunno," he said and kicked the floor with his shoe. "But I'm not. Just thought you should know."

"But why would you—"

"Oh, just eat the bloody sandwich, Harry!" Ron snapped. "Come on, we'll be late for Potions."

Harry followed him, utterly confused. Ron changed the subject and complained about Potions and bemoaned the fact that their lessons were not cancelled.

"Dumbledore would have cancelled lessons if a student died," he said. "Give everyone a chance to mourn, you know?"

Dumbledore might close the school, too, Harry thought. Or maybe he would not. Harry wished he could talk to his portrait at least. But it would be very rude indeed to address Dumbledore and ask for his opinion with McGonagall in the room. The portraits were there to advise the Headmistress; Dumbledore must have given her his input already. What he knew, she knew. It was only a portrait, anyway. A little more than a memory. It was not truly Dumbledore.

The day was spent discussing Harper's demise and ignoring schoolwork. Even the teachers seemed distracted. Most people seemed sure Harper's death was an accident; after all, everyone knew Harper was not in the right state of mind and was fond of wandering about. But then the news that Anthony Goldstein was suspended and sent home spread through the castle like wildfire. No one knew the particulars but many had quickly connected the dots and declared Goldstein was the murderer. That had, unfortunately, resulted in many students looking at the D.A. members suspiciously. Dumbledore's Army was supposed to protect the students and now one of their own had turned out to be quite dangerous. Zacharias Smith had been one of their own, too, once, but fortunately, others did not know anything about that.

The thought did trouble Harry, though. Two members of Dumbledore's Army had tried, or in Goldstein's case, succeeded, to murder two Slytherins students. Stop linking everything together, Harry reminded himself every so often, but his brain refused to listen.

His brain refused to listen to other reasonable suggestions, too. Such as: Stop staring at Malfoy. That one was even harder to obey. Malfoy was not staring back and Harry was beginning to worry. You'll se him tonight, he would tell himself and then quickly squashed the puzzling joy that thought gave him.

Eight o'clock found Harry in the Gryffindor common room with Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean and Neville, discussing the likelihood of the Hufflepuff Vampire being behind everything.

Harry only half-heartedly participated. First, because he simply could not believe there was a powerful creature living secretly in Hogwarts, trying to kill them all. It had to have been a student, Harry reasoned. It was shorter than him, it seemed young and agile, and it knew the castle well. Why they skulked around in secret, he had no idea. The more Harry thought about it, the more he believed the blood on its lips was an injury and its strength was just something Harry had imagined. The person had surprised him when it jumped and Harry had stumbled and fell. It need not have had supernatural strength to accomplish that, he had to admit. And it had only ever aimed to Stun, never seriously injure Harry or Malfoy. It was likely that this person had Stunned Demelza Robins, who had first reported the hooded figure, but not Tommy Wright. The Stunners were not that powerful.

And second, because he was too busy checking his watch, waiting for nine o'clock. Malfoy had refused to look at Harry once today and that was as irritating as it was troubling. Normally, Harry would catch Malfoy staring at him at least thrice a day.

Ginny walked into the common room and looked around, spotting Harry immediately. She gave him an uncertain sort of smile.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked loudly and everyone looked at her; Harry thought he saw Neville go for his wand. There, I'm not the only crazy person here, Harry thought. Everyone's on edge, waiting for more bad news.

She started. "No! Sorry, no."

"Good," Ron said. "I just had dinner. Don't feel like going around chasing vampires or murderous students."

"And how many have you chased down so far?" Hermione asked.

Ron said something snappish in return, but Harry had stopped listening. Ginny was staring at him, hesitating, before she inclined her head to the left, as if to say, "Come here."

Harry got up immediately and walked to her side. "What's wrong?"

Ginny was looking past him, however. "Oi! Private conversation, you lot! Do you mind?"

Harry turned to see all his friends hastily look away. He looked back to Ginny, even more curious now. "Did something happen?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, it's just that I did a lap around the grounds just now and I saw Malfoy at the pitch." Harry's heart skipped a beat and Ginny added, "He's fine. He was sitting on a bench, alone. I mean, it's not past curfew yet, but it's odd he went there. Thought you'd want to know."

"That is odd," Harry said. Wouldn't that be the last place Malfoy would want to visit alone?

Ginny was looking at him expectantly, as though she knew more than she was saying.

"Anything else?" Harry asked.

"No, no," she said quickly.

"Right. Okay." She was still staring. "Er," Harry said, "maybe I should go to see... I mean, he shouldn't be alone."

"Of course."

"Especially not there."

"Obviously."

Harry glanced back to the fireplace. Everyone would wonder where he was going and he had no idea what to say to them. Perhaps sneaking out would be the wisest course of action.

"I'll go, then," Harry said and tried to get past Ginny, but she sighed and pulled at his sleeve. She keeps doing that, Harry thought, annoyed.

"Harry," she said. "It's freezing outside."

"Oh." He was wearing a shirt, trousers, and not much else. "I'll get a cloak," he said sheepishly and hurried up to the dormitory. He armed himself with a cloak and gloves, scarf and a knit hat and picked up his Firebolt as an afterthought, vaguely planning to use it as an excuse.

Ginny must have retreated to her dormitory, but everyone else looked at him curiously when he descended the stairs.

"Brilliant idea, Harry!" Ron stood up the moment he saw him. "We have a little time before nine."

"But it's still too late to go out flying," Hermione said.

"Nah," Dean argued. "Wouldn't mind doing a few laps myself." He stood up, too, and it looked like Seamus was about to follow him.

Harry was horrified. Though, he should not have been. The most important thing was to make sure Malfoy was safe; he should not be out alone so late. No one should. If they all went outside, then the problem was solved.

Nonetheless, Harry still felt like punching every single one of them.

"I'm not going out flying," he said and was treated to several odd looks; after all, he was holding his Firebolt. "I just..." What could he possibly say? Except the truth. "Ginny saw Malfoy at the pitch. I was just going to get him."

Ron plopped down on the armchair immediately, with an exasperated sort of expression. Dean and Seamus looked confused, however, and Neville asked, "He didn't fall down again, did he?"

"No," Harry said. "But he shouldn't be alone out there so late."

"It's eight o'clock!" Dean sounded indignant.

"Well, yes, but it's the pitch and someone tried to kill Malfoy before. And another student died yesterday."

"You know, you're right, Harry," Neville said. "Maybe we should all go." He stood up. "And we could sweep the grounds, see if anyone else is out there."

"Good idea, Neville," Seamus said and sprang to his feet.

Despairing, Harry admitted defeat.

"It's not good idea," Ron said suddenly. "If we all go outside now, Malfoy will realise we're there to chase him back inside. He'll just get spiteful and contrary."

"So what?" Dean huffed.

Hermione intervened. "But didn't we invite the Slytherins to join the D.A. so we could show them we don't exist just to keep them in check? But if all of you go outside now, that's exactly what it will look like. If one of you goes, then you could pretend you just went out flying."

"But..." Dean looked even more confused. "Won't he conclude that when he sees Harry, anyway? Besides, we can just ask him to do a sweep of the grounds with us. No need to shove him back into the castle."

My side has the worst arguments, Harry thought sadly. "Fine, fine," he said, "let's all go."

Dean sat down with a huff. "Well, now I don't want to."
Seamus sat, too. "You lot..." He eyed Ron, Hermione and Harry. "You're mental."

Neville hesitated. "Need me to go with you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, daring to hope. "No. I'll just try to get him back inside and come back."

Neville sat down reluctantly and Harry breathed a little easier.

"Come back before nine," Ron said, glancing at Harry. "Or else."

"Yes, mother." Harry smiled, mouthed, "Thank you," and hurried outside.

Now they'll discuss my general weirdness, Harry thought. He could not blame them, exactly, but they did not understand. Harry wanted to talk to Malfoy. You could have done that after nine, an obnoxiously logical voice in his head reminded him. But Malfoy was at the pitch, a place that held terrible memories for him. He must have been feeling wretched. The last thing he needed was five Gryffindors zooming above his head.

The moment Harry stepped into the chill, he mounted his broom. He hoped he would reach Malfoy before the cold air froze his nose. His scarf and hat did little to protect his face from the freezing wind. There were charms he could cast, but by the time he took out his wand and remembered which one to use, he could reach the pitch thrice.

It was easy to spot Malfoy. He was sitting on one of the low benches in the south corner of the stands. The pitch was lit by several tall lamps. Their light was soft, but they were bright enough to illuminate a portion of the stands and Malfoy's white-blond head.

The sight gave Harry a pause. He had never fully appreciated how difficult it would have been for Smith to hit Malfoy from the stands during night time. If the lamps were lit, the light would have been blinding for anyone standing below. Malfoy could see Smith, but Smith could not see Malfoy.

Harry angled his broom and shot downward. He landed softly a few feet away from Malfoy.

"Hey," he said, dismissing his earlier plan to say, "Malfoy, is that you? Fancy meeting you here," which, he concluded, would have been a bit too obvious.

It probably would not have mattered, however. He doubted Malfoy had even heard what Harry had said. Malfoy jumped a little, eyes going wide.

"Potter?" he whispered.

A curious sense of déjà vu washed over Harry. The last time Malfoy spoke his name, looking so shocked, they were on the seventh floor and Draco was breathless and flushed. He had looked lost then; he looked lost now. He had nearly died in the Room of Requirement; he had nearly died on the pitch. Sometimes I go there, Malfoy had told him that Sunday before they found Tommy Wright. Why was he drawn to the places where he had nearly lost his life?

Harry took a careful step forward, then another and another, and he sat down next to Malfoy. "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy blinked, took a breath and composed himself. "What are you doing here?"

Here we go again, moving backward.

"Stalking you, obviously," Harry said.

That earned him a small smile. "You should stop. It's unhealthy."

"Yeah, well, I'm a bit touched in the head, or so I'm told."

Another smile. "Do you really have nothing better to do?"
"Better? Probably. Nothing half as fun, though."

"I'm always pleased to amuse." Malfoy's tone was flat, as though he was bored by the conversation. Harry wished he could say something fun and make him smile again. Malfoy looked past him, toward the castle. "It's very high, you know."
"What is?" Harry looked around in confusion.

"The Astronomy Tower."

It was high; Harry could not see the top. The numerous Hogwarts windows shone yellow, but the tips of the towers that rose in the air were dark.

"So very high," Malfoy said, "but, that night, I was flying even higher, looking down at the castle."

Harry turned to study Malfoy's pale face.

Malfoy was staring at him. "Why didn't I die?"

Your head's too thick, was on the tip of Harry's tongue, but perhaps it was not the time for jokes. "I don't know. You had your wand with you. Maybe you've managed a spell, even if it wasn't in your hand."

"Harper had a wand, too."

"Harper was... unwell."

"I don't remember trying to cast any spells. It all happened so fast." Malfoy looked up at the dark sky above the pitch.

Harry could not resist. "Were the lamps lit?"

Malfoy looked back at him. "What?"

"The lamps." Harry pointed at them helpfully. "Were they lit? Could you see the pitch and the stands from above?"

"I don't know. I don't remember. What does it matter?"

"I was just wondering how Smith could have hit you all the way from here. It would have been hard to hit a fast-moving target during the daylight, more so during night time, and if all these lamps were lit, it would be almost impossible..." Harry trailed off when he caught the look on Malfoy's face.

He's cross with me again.

"What's wrong with you, Potter?"

"Er, what? Why?"

"Is that all you want to talk about? About how Smith is innocent? How I know something, I'm just refusing to tell you? Clearly I know so much, being evil and all." He sprang to his feet, but so did Harry.

"Malfoy, we've been through this! I don't think any of it is your fault. I'm just worried because I think someone's trying—"

"So am I!" Malfoy shouted. "But can't you just... Can you stop playing Auror for five fucking minutes? I'm not your case. I refuse to be your case. If that's all you want, go stalk someone else." With that, Malfoy shoved past him, nearly sending him flying over one of the benches, and strode briskly away.

Harry would have followed him if he had not been so confused. If that's all you want. That was what Harry wanted. He wanted to make sure Malfoy stayed alive. Was that so terrible? It is. Unfair and cruel, Hermione's voice echoed in his mind. You'll make him think you reciprocate his feelings. Was that what Harry had done?

If that's all you want.

Malfoy's expression had changed so abruptly when Harry had begun to question him. Before that he had looked so vulnerable. He wanted comfort, not questions, Harry realised. Malfoy had wanted comfort back at the hospital wing, too, but Harry had only offered questions.

If that's all you want.

But it wasn't. He did want to comfort him, too. Harry had wanted it before, as well, when Malfoy had slipped on his slippers and fell into Harry's arms; Harry would have been ready to stay like that, with his arms around Malfoy, for as long as it took. For as long as Malfoy needed it.

But Malfoy did not know that; he thought all Harry wanted was to ask questions. Perhaps I should tell him. It's not too late.

Harry spun around and ran after Malfoy. He caught him near the exit, by the massive, tall archway that led to the pitch.

"Wait!" Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and pulled him back, trying to make him turn.

Malfoy jumped backward as though burned. "I told you to stop touching me, Potter!" he spat, face contorted.

If all you want to do is question me, Harry heard, though it was not spoken aloud. What do I want? Save him, comfort him, Harry replied readily. Was that all?

Malfoy was frozen still, frowning. Harry must have been staring at him for a bit too long.

"What?" Malfoy asked, looking unsure. His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and so were his lips. They must have felt cold, too. They had been warm in the hospital wing, pressed against Harry's cheek. If Winky had not showed up, Malfoy would have kissed him. Would I let him or would I push him away?

You should work out what you want first, Ron had told him, and then do something about it.

"Potter?" Malfoy's voice was even lower this time, almost fearful. I must look mad.

I am mad, Harry realised. That was the only explanation for his sudden surge of annoyance directed at poor Winky. If she had not interrupted them, Harry would know whether or not he would have pushed Malfoy away.

Malfoy took a careful step closer. "Did someone Petrify you?" He frowned. "Did I?" Malfoy's hand was in front of Harry's face suddenly, waving. Harry caught it, tugged a little. Malfoy let himself be pulled closer, probably too surprised to fight.

"That's not all I want," Harry said. Or at least he thought he said it. He could not recognise his own voice. It was scratchy and low.

Malfoy's hand was cold in Harry's grasp, even through Harry's gloves. Malfoy wore no hat, no scarf, no gloves; he looked cold, frozen, only his eyes were warm, which was odd; that had always been the coldest part of Malfoy.

Harry's gaze fell to Malfoy's lips, was drawn there. I can't kiss him. I can't kiss Malfoy.

He couldn't, he shouldn't, but he did. He must have leaned closer, he must have inclined his head, he wasn't sure, but, somehow, his lips were pressed against Malfoy's. The world lurched, tilted, spun, then righted itself abruptly and Malfoy's bottom lip still rested against Harry's. A sound escaped Malfoy's throat, that needy, desperate moan Harry had heard once before, but this time Harry could feel it; this time Malfoy moaned into Harry's mouth and the heat of it pulled him closer; as though magnetised, Harry's body pressed flush against Malfoy's, arms circling and closing around Malfoy's body.

Nothing had ever felt better, but then Harry changed his mind. His heart lurched into his throat when he realised there was more: Malfoy's tongue slid past Harry's lips, warm and real, pushing firmly as though it meant to stay. Harry would not have minded, even as his stomach clenched as though in fear, as though the reality of it was too much to bear; Harry's lips parted and another moan rang in his ears. Mine, he thought.

And then he felt fingers threading through his hair, caressing, tugging, making his head tilt to the side. The kiss deepened, Harry's tongue following Malfoy's movements, imitating, experimenting, as though it had forgotten what to do. It never really knew; kissing had never felt like this, like it was more important than breathing, like it did not matter what he did and how he did it, just as long he never stopped.

But then Malfoy stopped, pulled back, breathing so heavily, it seemed as though he was drowning.

"Don't," Harry whispered, panicking, terrified Malfoy would stop kissing him altogether and run away. He pressed his lips against Malfoy's lips again, catching only the corner of his mouth, and pushed him backward, pushed and walked until Malfoy's back hit the stone archway, where Harry could trap him and make sure he did not run away. But Malfoy's hands had never left Harry's hair—and where was Harry's knit hat, anyway?—and Harry thought maybe Malfoy wasn't planning to run away at all. Harry pressed closer against him, just in case.

"Potter..." Malfoy murmured, but Harry only seized the moment to kiss Malfoy again, to push his tongue past Malfoy's warmed, parted lips.

And then the most amazing thing happened. Malfoy's thigh slid upward, between Harry's legs, pressing, and Harry moved his hips ever-so-slightly, the resulting pleasure so intense he had to tear his mouth away from Malfoy's, suck in a deep breath and press his palm against the wall behind to keep himself upright.

"Potter," Malfoy said again, but this time it sounded like a wondrous moan.

He's staring at me, Harry thought, distracted, but Malfoy stopped staring just then, and instead his fingers attacked Harry's cloak, parting the folds and slipping inside, over Harry's stomach and hips. Then Malfoy's hands gripped Harry's buttocks, so roughly and suddenly, Harry cried out and thrust forward, the pressure against his crotch making him see stars.

It was impossible to stop moving. Malfoy's hands gripped and squeezed, massaging Harry's arse through his trousers, pulling him closer, forcing Harry to rub against Malfoy's thigh, then push back into Malfoy's grip, over and over.

Malfoy's mouth found Harry's neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin there, as much as Harry's scarf allowed. Harry felt Malfoy's teeth graze the skin just below his ear; the threat of it made him buck, the pinch of teeth that followed drew a low moan out of his throat.

Malfoy's fingers slipped lower, squeezing the lower part of Harry's buttocks, where they met his thighs, then burrowed between them; Harry could feel their firm pressure against his anus; the obscenity of it set his cheeks on fire even as his balls tightened and his body convulsed.

It was much too short; even as waves of pleasure washed over him, Harry was desperate to stop them, saddened it was over. We can't stop. We have to do it again.

Malfoy was shivering against him, panting against Harry's neck. The sight of his blond head buried there drew a smile to Harry's lips, though that was not the most logical reaction. Harry moved to touch Malfoy's hair, but then stopped and first pulled away his glove with his teeth, which was harder than he imagined it would be. When his hand was finally free, he buried his fingers into Malfoy's hair. It was cold and damp, but the skin beneath felt warm.

An unexpected surge of protectiveness left him reeling. Malfoy had nearly died how many times by now? Making sure he stayed alive had never been more important. He's afraid, worried, he had said as much; he expects me to save him. I must.

Harry's fingers found one cold earlobe and Harry bent down to bite it lightly before whispering, "You know, Malfoy, your ears will fall off if you don't wear—"

Malfoy's head rose so suddenly, it smacked Harry's nose. "What are you—?" Harry said, but his mouth fell shut when he saw Malfoy's face. He had that wild look about him again, as though he was shocked to see Harry. But he could not have been; surely he hadn't forgotten who was here with him.

Malfoy's shock turned to anger and he growled as he shoved Harry violently away. Shocked, Harry stumbled, slipped and fell backward on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Harry shouted, even as his earlier euphoria evaporated and the reality set in; he was lying on the cold ground, his trousers a sticky mess and his neck throbbing, and Malfoy looked down at him as though Harry was a particularly nasty bug. What did you expect? It's Malfoy.

The sense of loss consumed him, but it did not stop him from getting up and glaring. "So was it as good for you as it was for me?" he asked, more resentful than sneering.

Malfoy looked toward the pitch, at Harry, down at himself, as though he was not sure where he was, or even who he was. Harry's anger eased somewhat. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Shut up. Just shut up. You're not even—"

Harry did not get to hear what he wasn't; Malfoy turned on his heels and bolted. Harry stared after him, at a complete loss. He considered following him, but squashed that thought quickly. Malfoy had clearly regretted what had happened. Who knew what he wanted to say? You're not even a pure-blood. You're not even a girl. Harry knew what a was: an idiot. A complete idiot. What was he thinking? Kissing Malfoy, bloody humping his leg?

Harry's cheeks burned as he bent down to pick up his woollen hat and then went back to the pitch to get his Firebolt. His pants were sticky; he would have spelled the mess away, but he was reluctant to point his wand at his crotch. Especially now that his hands were shaking from anger.

"I regret it, too," Harry informed the empty Quidditch pitch. Except he didn't, he couldn't, no matter how much he tried he could not regret a single second, a single kiss. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel it: Malfoy's lips, his fingers in Harry's hair, his hot breath against Harry's neck, his palms kneading Harry's arse.

How long have I wanted this?

He could not say, but it had not begun tonight, that much he knew.

Harry walked back to the castle, not trusting himself to fly. His sadness made him angry, his anger made him sad. He was stuck in that loop, unable to break free.

When he reached the Fat Lady, he paused and made a conscious effort to compose himself. People will not guess you've been snogging (and humping) Draco Malfoy on the Quidditch Pitch. Just don't look guilty.

"My, my, now there's a love bite."

Harry looked up at the smiling Fat Lady in shock, then quickly pulled his scarf up to his chin.

"Ah! Secret love affairs! Now those were the days," she cried, eyes going misty. "But do be careful, dear. Love makes fools of us all, and last night..." She leaned down. "It cost a young man his life."

"Applesauce," Harry grumbled and the Fat Lady said, "You've been warned," before the portrait swung open.

The common room was packed with students, but it was almost nine and most of the D.A. members must have been checking the dormitories. Ginny was sitting by the window, however, and Harry went straight to her table.

"Ginny," he said and she jumped, snapped the book she had been reading shut and placed her hand over it protectively. "Er, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." She was clearly reading something private; he could have waited, or maybe gone upstairs to his dormitory and changed his underpants.

"It's fine." She forced a smile, then frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Harry nodded. "I just wanted to ask if... could we switch? I'd like to patrol with Lavender tonight."

She did no look pleased. "What? Why?"

"I want to talk to her, that's all." That was true, at least. He also wanted very much to avoid Malfoy.

"Well, then talk to her and... go pick up Malfoy later."

"Please, Ginny." Harry made an effort to look as pathetic as he could.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Honestly, Harry."

"It's a huge favour, I know. Patrolling with Malfoy won't be easy. But please, just tonight. I'll owe you. Name your terms, whatever you want."

Ginny snorted. "Do you know you still owe me that Galleon?"

Damn. "Sorry. I forgot. I can go get it right now."

"Oh, never mind the stupid Galleon, Harry. I was just pointing out..." She sighed. "All right. But I do want something."

Harry was so relieved he felt like dancing, wet pants and all. "Anything."

"Anything? Good. What I want is for you to stop asking me favours. And stop... whinging at me so I end up offering favours. Just stop. For a year, at least."

Harry winced. "I... Done."

"I mean it."

"Done. I swear."

She studied him suspiciously. "And I want your Firebolt."

Harry froze, utterly shocked, and Ginny burst out laughing.

"Your face!" she wheezed. It took a while for her to calm down. "I'm only half-joking, though."

Harry recovered from his shock and grumbled, "You want only half of it, then?"

"No, I just want to borrow it sometimes."

Harry forced himself to nod and say, "Sure." It sounded a bit strained to his own ears.

Ginny sighed. "Not often and I'll be very careful, I promise."

"Yeah, okay. Just don't... crash, anywhere. Deliberately."

She rolled her eyes. "I won't. Nor will I use it to hunt vampires late at night."

"Er, sorry?"

Ginny's gaze slipped to Harry's neck and then back up to his eyes.

Harry quickly shoved the Firebolt toward her. "Here, you can have it now. So you can go out flying tomorrow morning."

She took it, her eyebrows raised, and Harry nodded at her and fled to his dormitory.

The first thing he did was Conjure a mirror and examine his neck. It was no wonder both the Fat Lady and Ginny had noticed: Malfoy had mangled it. Several dark bruises covered his skin all the way up to his ear. He vividly remembered Malfoy sucking on his neck, but he did not think it would leave so many bruises.

I should Vanish them, he thought, caressing them instead. He snapped out of it soon enough, and pressed the tip of his wand to his neck. "Episkey," he said and the bruises were no more. Then he ran to the bathroom for a quick shower, changed into a fresh set of clothes and hurried to do his rounds around the dormitories before he descended to the common room.

Lavender was already there, waiting for him, looking sulky. She scowled at him when he reached her.

Harry forced a smile and said lightly, "I'm not the worst possible partner, am I?"

"Among bottom five, at least." She had said it like she meant it and then turned to climb out of the portrait hole.

This will be fun, Harry thought, but quickly reminded himself it was his idea in the first place. I do need to talk to her. What he needed even more was to avoid Malfoy. He could not help feeling saddened by the thought. This could have been a fun, if unproductive, patrol night. Anger reared its ugly head, then, and Harry's thoughts fell into by now familiar loop. Bloody snogging, bloody relationships. It's just not meant for me. Give me a nice girl, who likes me, and I'll fuck it up. Give me a git, who hates me, and I'll fuck it up. Though, Malfoy was the one who had fucked it up earlier. Except Malfoy was a git and that was what gits did, so really, it was still Harry's fault; he should have predicted the result.

"Down, not up."

Harry blinked at Lavender. "What?"

"We're on the ground floor. Ginny and Malfoy are on the fourth floor."

"Oh. Of course." Harry had attempted to abandon the staircases and turn left on the fourth floor. He hastily followed Lavender but not before he looked left and right, hoping to see a glimpse of blond or red hair in one of the corridors. You're avoiding Malfoy, he reminded himself, as he craned his neck.

Lavender gave him a calculating sort of look when he caught up with her. "You know, I heard an interesting conversation earlier," she said.

"Oh?" This was good. If she started gossiping, then it would be easier to ask her questions, without it looking like he was prying or accusing of her of anything. "About what?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "You."

Harry tensed. "Hmm," he said noncommittally, tempted to demand she told him everything at once, but then she might not. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew which conversation she had heard. "Was it really that interesting?"

"Well, no. But it was amusing." She looked at him sideways. "Apparently, your friends think you're a bit unhinged."

"Well, I am." She must have heard Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus and Neville discuss him after he went to get Malfoy. Harry could not blame any of them for thinking his behaviour had been odd. I didn't plan to snog him even then, did I? He had not planned it, but he must have wanted it.

"Probably. But it seems they've all concluded you're a bit obsessed with keeping Draco Malfoy alive because you saved him once and now you want to redeem him. And if you fail at both, it would mean everything you did in the past meant nothing."

Harry had to smile. Hermione must have said that and everyone else was forced to agree. There was truth in Hermione's conclusion, Harry supposed, though he saw no reason to analyze why someone wanted to save a person's life.

"Poor things," Lavender added sweetly. "They were all forced to listen Hermione Granger's philosophical explanations and the truth is all you wanted was to go outside to snog him."

Harry almost choked on his tongue in his hurry to say, "What?" He forced a laugh. "That's ridiculous! Who on earth told you that?" Was it the Fat Lady? Ginny? They saw the bruises on his neck, but would they assume they were left there by Malfoy?

"Oh, please," Lavender scoffed. "No one told me. I have eyes, you know."

Harry was in shock. "You saw us?" Lavender laughed and Harry realised his mistake at once. "I mean," he added, "you couldn't have, obviously, since there was nothing to see."

She snorted. "Obviously."

Harry stopped to glare at her. "I did not snog Malfoy, nor would I want to." He had to convince her before she ran around the school to tell everyone. It was no one's business and it was unlikely to happen ever again. "He's a git. And he was a Death Eater. And he hates me. And I'm not crazy about him, either." Not even a little. "And he's... a bloke," he remembered to add. That was an important argument to put forth, as well.

"Ugh. Merlin." Lavender sounded disgusted. "You're just like her."

Harry was temporarily distracted. "Er, like who?"

"Parvati." She huffed before adding in a falsetto voice, "Oh Lav! I could never. Not Harper. He's evil. And his parents are evil. And he's a Slytherin. How dare you suggest it? Not me. Not ever."

Harry was quite affronted. On his behalf as well as Parvati's, who had been so distressed since Harper had died. "Sounds like she was in a complicated situation. There's no need to scoff at it."

"Complicated?" She had nearly hissed the question; her eyes flashed. "Oh yes! Poor her! Two guys fighting for her, wanting her, and she didn't know who to choose. And poor you! All those girls pining for you and now Malfoy, too. How will you ever survive? You know what's complicated, Harry?" She pushed her blond hair away suddenly, revealing her ugly scars. They stretched over her cheek, down to her neck. "This is complicated," she spat and turned away, muttering about whingers.

Harry ran after her and caught her arm. She stopped and glared at him.

"I know a thing or two about scars, Lavender," Harry said. "Mine may be small, but it cost me my parents."

That struck a chord. Lavender's eyes turned bright, and Harry was immediately sorry for what he said. Had he not almost thrown a tantrum earlier because Malfoy had left a few bruises on his neck and it had immediately complicated his life? Bruises made by kisses, which Harry had Vanished with a wave of his wand. Lavender's scars were made by a monster and she was stuck with them forever. She had every right to scoff at his complications.

"I'm sorry." She sniffed. "I know nothing was ever easy for you and you had a lunatic trying to murder you, but I just get so tired of hearing everyone go on and on about their love problems like they're the worst things that could happen to them. And they're not."

"No, no, I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "You're right. Things were complicated for me before, but now I'm just creating complications." And there's someone in the castle trying to kill us all, and that sounds complicated, too, Harry thought, but perhaps that was better left unmentioned. He was also reluctant to point out that Harper's love problem really was the worst thing that could have happened to him. Perhaps she was already feeling guilty about that; there was no need to add to it. "Is that why..." Harry hesitated. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to the question he wanted to ask, but he still had to ask. Stop playing Auror for five minutes, Potter, Malfoy's voice rang in Harry's head. Lavender, like Malfoy, could probably use comfort more than questioning. But no, I can't stop playing Auror for five minutes, Harry told the Malfoy in his head, this is important. "So, were you just using Harper as an excuse to go off patrolling on your own? To avoid hearing people go on and on about their problems?"

The question seemed to surprise her, but she said, "Can you blame me? First I had to listen to Neville talk about Hannah and his bloody plants, and then I got stuck with Ginny Weasley, who never shuts up and only ever talks about Quidditch. Oh no, my plant looks sick. Oh dear, will I ever be a professional Quidditch player? Boo-hoo."

"Right. So, you would find Harper, take him to his common room and then patrol alone?" She narrowed her eyes at him and Harry added, "I mean, I'm just trying to work out how much time Harper had to get to the Astronomy Tower and you were the last person to see him alive..."

"Are you questioning me?"

"No, no." Harry shook his head. "I was just thinking out loud, that's all."

"Well, good." She crossed her arms on her chest. "Because Anthony Goldstein murdered Harper. There's no doubt about that. Do you know, once, I heard him say, 'One day, Harper will wander off, end up on a tower and fall off,' and the thought clearly cheered him up."

"A bit silly of him to say that and then go do it."

"He's an idiot! I'm glad we agree."

"He did manage to find Harper. On a tower. That's a bit convenient, isn't it?"

"Maybe he dragged him there."

"But that's the thing. He didn't have much time. I saw him before and it all happened soon afterward. And you say you just left Harper in the dungeons..."

Lavender shifted her weight. "Well, I left Harper there maybe half an hour before. So, I suppose, technically, he, at least, had enough time to reach the Astronomy Tower. Though, I don't know how he managed it. I checked the charms cast on the Slytherin common room door and it would be difficult for anyone to go through unnoticed."

Malfoy's charms, Harry thought, and then: I should stop thinking about him.

"And you didn't see anyone—" Harry broke off when something scorched his thigh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the burning Galleon.

"Did something happen?" Lavender asked. "What does it say?"

Harry stared at the embossed, golden letters in confusion. "It just says, The Dead Room."

"The what?"

Harry grumbled. "I don't know why no one ever signs these messages— " Harry froze. "The Room of Requirement! It has to be." But who would call it The Dead Room? And why did they want him to go there? Malfoy was Harry's first thought, but it could not have been him. He was on the fourth floor and he knew what the Room was called. Harry whirled around, to go back up the staircases, nonetheless.

"Harry, wait!" Lavender called. "Do you think it's an emergency? Maybe I should stay here. Patrol." She looked a little too shifty for Harry's liking.

"No, come on. Maybe it is an emergency. Maybe I'll need backup."

She looked displeased but she followed him. Harry quickened his pace, climbing as fast as he could up the stairs. No matter how many times he told himself it could not have been Malfoy's message, all he could think was, I shouldn't have switched with Ginny. Had he not been obsessed with getting Malfoy to join the D.A. so he could keep an eye on him more easily? So he could protect him? One little unfortunate snog and Harry had abandoned him. He should have just sucked it up, straightened his priorities. Their joint patrol would have been awkward, but so what? Some things were more important than snogging dramas, as Lavender had pointed out earlier.

Don't you dare die on me, Malfoy. Don't you dare get hurt.

Harry was breathless when he reached the seventh floor. Lavender was not, even though she had overtaken him at one point. Harry planned to reflect on his fitness, or lack thereof, later, when he was not busy trying to catch up with Lavender.

"Ginny!" Lavender cried and shot toward the end of the corridor.

Harry's heart stopped beating. Ahead, Ginny lay on the floor, a mass of slumped black robes and ever-recognizable Weasley red hair. Harry all but flew toward her.

Lavender had already turned her around, revealing Ginny's pale face. Her eyes were closed.

"Ginny, no," Lavender moaned.

"She's fine!" Harry shouted, though he had no reason to know it for certain, but the alternative was too horrible to contemplate. Harry took out his wand. "Rennervate!" he cried. When Ginny gasped, her brown eyes opening, Harry thought he might just faint from relief. He knelt down beside her.

"Ginny?" he whispered, helping her sit up. "What happened? Are you all right? Hexed? Cursed?"

She looked around groggily. "I... I don't know. Where am I?"

"The seventh floor," Lavender said. "How did you get here? You were supposed to—"

Ginny's eyes widened suddenly and she struggled to get up, but she was dizzy and disoriented and both Lavender and Harry had to help her stand. Ginny clutched her head. "Where's Malfoy? Did you find him?" She looked up at Harry.

The worry in her eyes seemed to seep into Harry and explode there, stealing his breath and making his heart lurch in his chest. "Why? Is he missing? What happened? Is he all right?" He looked down the corridor, hoping this was a joke and Malfoy would jump out from behind a corner and laugh at him.

"I don't know," Ginny said, looking around as though she, too, was expecting Malfoy to just appear there. "Someone must have Stunned me. I think I heard them yell Stupefy. And then... We must have been ambushed. Did you find Peterson?"

Harry, who was still holding the Galleon in his hand and was busy sending Malfoy a message, looked up from the words, Where are you? to stare at Ginny in confusion.

"Peterson? Jamie Peterson?" Harry clutched the Galleon, willing it to burn. Please answer, please.

"Yes. He was missing," Ginny said, still clutching her head. "Malfoy was worried when I picked him up. He said there were four students missing and he knew what they were up to. He kept saying it was his fault. Honestly, I had no idea what he was on about, but he said we had to find Jamie Peterson. We sent the kid a message, but he didn't reply, so we ran up here because Malfoy thought Peterson could be in the Room of Requirement."

The moment Ginny mentioned the room, Lavender and Harry turned around and rushed to open the massive oak door. Lavender got there first and pulled it open. Harry stepped into the dark only to jump back as something slammed against his legs. He spun around and bent down to catch Jaime Peterson by the shoulders before the kid ran away.

Those are the largest eyes I have ever seen, Harry thought as he stared at Peterson's terrified face.

"It's all right," Harry said, even though Malfoy was still missing and nothing was all right.

"Harry Potter!" Peterson breathed, reminding Harry strongly of Dobby.

"One and only," Harry said wryly and knelt down on one knee.

"Don't mind us, though," Ginny added, stepping closer, "we're just chopped liver."

Lavender made an odd little sound at that proclamation, but said nothing. Peterson gave Ginny a weak smile but his brown eyes quickly focused back on Harry. "You have to stop them," he whispered.

"Stop who?" Harry asked. "What are you doing here?" Where is Draco Malfoy? he wanted to ask. The Galleon was still in Harry's hand. Burn. Burn, damn you.

"Pritchard and the others. They locked me up in there." Peterson looked past Harry to gaze fearfully at the blackness of the Room of Requirement.

"What? Why?" Harry asked even as he looked up at Ginny and Lavender. "Do we know someone called Pritchard?"

"He's a prefect, I think?" Ginny looked to Lavender.

Lavender nodded. "Fifth-year. Snotty little thing."

Harry remembered him; he was in Peterson's dormitory on the night it burned, telling everyone how Peterson was afraid of the dark. He's scared of everything, he had said. He had reminded Harry of Malfoy.

"Yes, that's him. And he always has two friends with him. As rotten as he is," Peterson said. "They stuffed me in there a few times before. Because they know I'm af— I... I don't like the dark." Peterson flushed.

"Nasty thing, dark," Ginny said. "Don't fancy it myself."

"I loathe it," Lavender agreed and gave an exaggerated shudder.

"It's one scary room," Harry said, quite truthfully. Once the door was closed, the dark must have been absolute.

"And it can't be open from the inside," Peterson whispered. "There's no door."

It really is dead, then. All one could wish for when locked inside was a door. The Room could no longer provide. The more curious thing for Harry was the fact that Peterson had so willingly told them who had been harassing him. The last time both Hermione and McGonagall had tried to extract that information from him, he had refused to speak. Either because of fear of house loyalty. Something had changed.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "We'll report him to the Headmistress. He won't do this again."

Harry's promise did not appease the boy. "But first you have to stop them!" he said. "I tried. I tried to warn him, but they caught me."

"Warn who?" A sick feeling settled in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Draco Malfoy," Peterson said, confirming Harry's fears. "I heard them talking; they said they'd get him for what he did last night. I snuck out before curfew to warn him, but they found me before I found him."

The Galleon in Harry's hand dug into his palm painfully. "And what did Draco do last night?"

"He's gone mental!" The way Peterson said it, it sounded like a fearful sort of compliment. "We were all in the common room when we heard about Harper. I was really, er, worried." Harry strongly suspected Peterson meant to say scared, originally. "And then Pritchard saw me and he laughed, saying, 'Don't worry, whoever got Harper won't go after filthy little Mudbloods like you. We'll deal with you ourselves.' And a few people laughed, too, but then Draco lost it. He backhanded Pritchard so hard he went flying half across the room. And then he yelled at him, at everyone. He pulled up his sleeve and showed us that horrid tattoo and told everyone that the next person who ignores the curfew will find out what it means to piss off a Death Eater. And he told Pritchard that if he ever threatens or tries to hurt me again, he'll tattoo the Dark Mark on his forehead and shove his head up, uh," Peterson lowered his voice, "Voldemort's rotten arse. I don't remember most of the things he said after that. But at one point he demanded Pritchard to thank him for hitting him. He took out his wand and everything, screaming at him, 'Thank me, you idiot, because I'm doing you a favour.' He kept shooting Stinging Hexes at him and Pritchard kept screaming for help, but no one dared to do anything. Not with Draco looking like he'd murder the first person who dared to speak. And Pritchard finally started crying and screaming, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you,' and then Draco left him alone."

The tale stunned Harry into silence. He never wanted anything as much as he wanted to be a Legilimens in that moment, so he could see what went on in Malfoy's head.

Peterson sniffed. "And now I ignored the curfew," he wailed. "But I had to! I heard Pritchard and the others scheming, saying they'll make Draco cry blood for what he did."

"We'll find him." Harry winced at the roughness of his own voice. Draco will not be crying blood. The Galleon in Harry's hand stung, but only because Harry's grip drove it into his skin. Where do I look? Harry stood up. He would have to alert the D.A., teachers, everyone.

"Jamie," Ginny said, "why didn't you use the Galleon to warn Malfoy?"

Peterson looked at her. "I don't have it. Pritchard took it. He always takes my gold. He thought it was real."

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Harry asked. "You sent me a message; that's why I got here."

Peterson shook his head, eyes wide. "No, I didn't."

Harry looked at Ginny sharply. "Did you send it, then?"

"Er, I was a bit busy lying unconscious, Harry."

But of course it couldn't have been her. Who would send a message with the words The Dead Room?

There was no time to think about that now. First, he had to find Draco. "Ginny, go with Lavender and tell McGonagall that Draco is missing. We have to find him. The castle's too big; we can't search alone."

Ginny nodded, but then looked past Harry, frowning. "Lavender? What's wrong?"

Harry whirled around to see Lavender standing at the top of the stairs. Her head was tilted backward, her face set in a curious expression of deep concentration. It looked like she was sniffing the air.

"Can you smell that?" she asked.

Ginny sniffed the air in confusion. "Smell what?"

Harry could not smell anything out of the ordinary, either.

"It smells like..." Lavender hesitated. "Smoke. It's coming from down there." She pointed down the stairs.

Harry's heart skipped so violently it hurt. Not fire, not fire. Don't you dare, you idiots. He shot forward, feet slipping when he reached the stairs, but he caught the banister in the last second and landed neatly on the first step. He dashed down the stairs, yelling, "Lavender! Where?" He still couldn't smell anything. Maybe Lavender was imagining things. But she had smelled the smoke in the Slytherin common room, even though none of the Slytherins had, Harry reminded himself.

Ginny, Lavender and Jaime Peterson ran after him. "Down, down, down!" Lavender was shouting as she ran. "It's not the sixth floor!"

"Harry, is that you?" someone yelled from bellow. "I think something's burning!"

Harry glanced over the banister to see Neville and Hannah running toward the main fifth floor corridor. "Over here!" Neville pointed ahead.

Harry could finally smell the smoke. It stung his eyes and dimmed his vision. He jumped over the final three steps and swerved to the left, nearly running over Neville in his haste to reach the Transfiguration classroom. It had to be the source; there was not much else here and Professor Plunkett was still in bed with a nasty cold, which cost him his voice, and that classroom was sure to be empty. A good place to hide if you did not want to be found.

Smoke was thicker here; Harry saw it escape from the gap between the door and the threshold. He charged forward, pointing his wand and yelling, "Alohomora!" as he went. The door remained closed and Harry tried again. "Reducto! Depulso! Deprimo! Defodio! Confringo!" The spells ricocheted, one after the other.

"We should try casting the Blasting Curse together!" Neville yelled, catching up with Harry. The others were on his tail, their wands raised.

"Yes," Harry said, breathless, desperate. He can't be in there. "On three. One—" Harry saw little Jaime Peterson raise his wand; it was unlikely he even knew what a Blasting Curse was.

"Two!" Harry yelled, but then Lavender burst forward with a huff of "Oh, for heaven's sake!" and slammed her foot against the door.

Harry had no time to be surprised. The door swung open and the corridor filled with hot smoke. The classroom was on fire; chairs and desk crackled as they burned. Without another thought, Harry ran inside. The heat overwhelmed him, scorching his skin, blinding him.

"Harry!" Ginny screamed and then: "GLACIUS!"

Her spell spread though the air, whooshing as it filled the room with white glow. The fire licked Harry's hands and face, tingling, but never burning.

"Evanesco!" Harry yelled at the black smoke and it dissipated, revealing the centre of the room, where Draco Malfoy lay on the floor, unconscious, his wrists bound by wispy black ropes.

Harry leapt to his side, falling to his knees next to Malfoy's head. "Rennervate!"

The spell hit Malfoy in the chest, but he only stirred a little, a frown forming on his face.

"Draco, wake up!" Harry grabbed Malfoy's shoulders, scooting backward so he could pull Malfoy up and force him to sit.

The others were in the room too, Vanishing fire and dousing it with Conjured water. The bright lights of their spells and their cries of "Aguamenti!" and "Evanesco!" only added to the chaos.

Harry pulled Malfoy up to press him against his chest, supporting Malfoy's back with his arm; Malfoy's head fell forward onto Harry's neck. "Wake up, Malfoy!" Harry yelled in his ear. Miraculously, it worked. Malfoy lifted his head, his eyes cracking open.

"Déjà vu," Malfoy managed to say before he lapsed into a coughing fit.

"Come on, up!" Harry wrapped one arm around Draco's waist and hauled him to his feet. "You can cough later. As much as you want. But the smoke's not helping you."

Malfoy coughed nonetheless and almost slipped from Harry's grasp. Neville jumped to his side and reached toward Malfoy as though to help keep him upright.

"No, no need." Harry pulled Malfoy closer. "I got him."
Neville gave him an odd look, and Harry knew he deserved it, but he could not help himself. He had his arms around Malfoy and he was unwilling to let go. He could have used Neville's help, though.

"Malfoy, come on, walk. You can do it," Harry said.

Malfoy could indeed do it. He finally regained his balance and his coughing subsided. He leaned heavily on Harry as they walked out of the room.

They did not get very far from the classroom and the smoke when Draco pushed at Harry and leaned against the wall, his head falling backward, hitting the stone.

Harry seized the opportunity to attack the thin bonds round Malfoy's wrists. He tried every charm he knew and that could logically help free Malfoy's hands, but nothing worked.

"It's a curse, Potter," Malfoy said after Harry growled in frustration. "The bonds can be broken only by a special, enchanted blade."

Harry scowled, lowering his wand. "You could have told me that sooner."

"And ruin my fun?" Malfoy's grey eyes were half-closed, but they were studying Harry closely.

Harry pocketed his wand. "All right. Where do I find this special blade?"

"You don't." Malfoy's eyes closed and opened again slowly. "I'm sure Pomfrey will know what to do."
Harry nodded reluctantly. He tugged at Draco's tied up hands. I'm cradling them again, he realised, but didn't even try to push them away; he only pulled them even tighter against his chest. "We should go to the hospital wing."

"If I refuse, will you Petrify me?"

"Don't have to this time." Harry tugged at Draco's wrists again to better make his point.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed even more, but then he coughed, winced and grimaced as though trying to suppress a shudder that raked through him.

Harry did not know how to help, he only knew he desperately wanted it. He reached up to brush a stray lock of white-blond hair from Malfoy's damp forehead. Malfoy stared at him through half-open eyes. Defiant, Harry did it again, brushing only imaginary strands of hair this time. Yes, I'm stroking your hair, you ponce. I dare you to stop me.

Malfoy did not stop him; he didn't move at all and Harry's defiance abandoned him, leaving him feeling like an idiot. He returned his hand to Draco's wrists.

"What happened?" he asked. "Was it Pritchard?"

"How do you know about—" His eyes widened. "Peterson! Have you found him? He was missing. And Weasley! I saw her get hit and go down."

"They're fine," Harry said quickly. "They're both..." He turned and saw little Peterson standing a few feet away, looking as though he was trying hard not to stare at them. "Here," Harry finished. He could hear the others casting spells in the classroom, Vanishing smoke and fire.

Malfoy relaxed against the wall again. "You should stop fondling me, Potter. I think you've traumatised the kid."

"He'll survive," Harry said, deciding to make no comments about Malfoy's accusation of fondling. "Tell me what happened," he said and Malfoy opened his mouth. Harry hurriedly added, "No smartarse Auror jokes, please."

Malfoy's lips twitched; Harry wanted to kiss them.

"They Stunned me," Malfoy said, tone flat, "dragged me here, tied me up and wanted to make me apologise with their shoddy little curses."

Except for the ugly welts forming beneath the black bonds, there was not a mark on Draco, and the way he had shuddered earlier... Harry thought he knew which "shoddy little curse" the idiots had used. Harry's thumbs caressed the soft skin of Malfoy's wrists—a compulsion he could not control.

"And then," Harry said, "they set the classroom on fire and ran?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know, I suppose. I lost consciousness a few times..."

Cruciatus Curse, then, it had to be. If I kiss his wrists, would that be strange?

"One moment they were there," Malfoy continued, "in the next, I opened my eyes and they were gone and the classroom was on fire." Malfoy's voice lowered as he said that, but then he added more loudly, "And then I opened my eyes again and a specky git was manhandling me."

"And he refuses to stop," Harry said and tugged on Malfoy's wrist again, harder this time, forcing Malfoy to step away from the wall. "Hospital wing. We really should go."

Malfoy's gaze turned calculating. "Oh, you quite like this, don't you?"

Harry frowned in confusion and Malfoy's gaze slipped to his bound hands. "Does it do something for you?"

It didn't. Until now, after Malfoy had mentioned it. Harry's cheeks flushed at the implication, vague visions assaulting his mind.

I can play this game, too, Harry thought.

"Actually..." Harry lowered his voice, eyes fixed on Malfoy's. "I much prefer to have your hands somewhere else. Didn't you notice that at the pitch?"

If Harry had not been flushed already, he would flush all over again at his own words, but it was worth seeing Malfoy's eyes going wide, his smirk wiped from his face.

Someone cleared their throat.

Harry turned his head so fast he thought he heard something crack in his neck. Ginny was standing a little further away, staring. Worse, Neville and Hannah were behind her, looking everywhere except at Malfoy and Harry.

"There was a fire in that classroom over there, did you know?" Ginny pointed at the Transfiguration classroom helpfully.

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, I noticed. I knew you lot would handle it brilliantly. You didn't need me."

"Ah! But have you noticed two of our number are missing?"

Harry blinked, realising Lavender and Peterson were gone. Hannah Abbot snickered and Neville pointed behind Harry, saying, "They went to get McGonagall. They passed right over there."

"In Harry's defence," Ginny said, "Lavender did insist on tiptoeing."

Malfoy looked behind Harry with a frown.

"Don't listen to them," Harry said. "There's a hidden passageway a little further down the corridor leading straight to McGonagall's office; they must have went there."

"Oh." Malfoy tugged at his hands and Harry loosened his grip, letting him go.

"We alerted the rest of the D.A., too," Ginny added, more seriously. "Pritchard and the others are gone; we should find them." Harry nodded and Ginny sighed. "In other words..." She waved with her hand, as though shooing him. "We have it sorted. You're dismissed."

"Thanks," Harry said, awkward. Ginny was making jokes, but she always made jokes. It did not necessarily mean that seeing him with Malfoy hadn't upset her. Harry could think of several other people who might be upset if they saw him clutching Malfoy's hands. I just didn't want you to think I'm angry with you or something, Harry remembered Ron saying yesterday as he offered Harry a sandwich. You talk in your sleep, he had said earlier that day after Harry had woken up, gasping and thinking about Malfoy. Harry winced. Perhaps it was too late to wonder whom he might have upset.

I'm upset, too, he reasoned. And so is Malfoy. But there were more important things to worry about now. If someone wanted to engage in a shouting match, they would have to wait. They were all aware of that, at least.

Harry looked to Malfoy, inclining his head toward the staircases. Malfoy nodded, lips pursed, and they made their way to the hospital wing. Malfoy was slow, unsteady on his feet and would stumble occasionally, but Harry did not offer him a hand. He feared it would only lead to an outburst. If it were Harry, he would want to reach the hospital on his own, too.

Harry regretted not taking the chance to cling to Malfoy while he had it as soon as they entered the hospital wing and explained what had happened. Madam Pomfrey had promptly thrown Harry out while she took care of Draco, and had warned him he ought not return before tomorrow as it was late and Draco would need to rest.

Harry had no intention of leaving. He slipped to the floor next to the hospital wing's entrance and sat down with his knees pulled to his chin. If anyone tried to murder Draco again, they would have to go through him.

That was where Ron and Hermione found him almost two hours later. They looked exhausted and they all but collapsed on the floor on either side of him without saying a word.

"Did you find Pritchard?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "No sign of him or his cronies."

Harry stared at him. "What, they ran? They're not in the castle?"

Hermione yawned before replying. "We searched everywhere. The D.A., the teachers, even house-elves, all of us. They're just not here. All their stuff is still in the dungeons. Even their brooms."
"The teachers went to search the Forest and Hogsmeade," Ron added. "They wouldn't let us join them. McGonagall called the Aurors."

Harry was somewhat stunned. He could not help wondering what had gone through Pritchard's head. He and his cronies were angry and vengeful, Harry understood that. They had found Peterson and stuffed him in the Room of Requirement, as they had apparently done in the past. They had got away with it before, they must have thought they would get away with it again. Then they had grabbed Malfoy, got him where they wanted to, and tried to intimidate him. It was a bold plan. The D.A. members and the teachers were patrolling the castle. But they had achieved everything they had planned and there was a good chance they would get away with it. They could have Obliviated Malfoy, or tried to, at least. Even if they had not done that, it would be Malfoy's word against theirs. At worst, they would get suspended or maybe even expelled from school.

But then they had decided to set the classroom on fire, to leave Malfoy there alive and run. Were they truly so upset, so stupid? The smoke would have attracted attention, they must have realised that, and the truth would come out, they must have realised that, too, or they would not have run. Were they so eager to go to Azkaban? Did they imagine themselves to be the new generation of Death Eaters? Fifteen-year-old idiots. Draco was doing you a favour. Why didn't you listen?

"If I planned to run," Harry said, "I'd Summon my broom. They can't even Apparate."

Hermione's head fell to Harry's shoulder. "Is this the part where you tell us someone else is behind this, pulling the strings?"

"No," Harry said honestly. He did think that, but he did not intend to say it aloud.

Ron snorted. "Pity. Because I think I'm ready to believe you."

Harry stared at him. "You are?"

"This is simply getting ridiculous," Hermione said. "Maybe the school should be closed." She sounded tearful, distressed that their education would suffer, or maybe she was just tired. "Your shoulders are so bony, Harry," she added, head shifting as though looking for a better spot to lie on.

"All shoulders are bony," Harry pointed out, then added, "Go on, you two. You should get some rest."

"Doesn't really matter," Ron said. "Lessons are cancelled for tomorrow, anyway. Besides, this is comfy." The back of Ron's head hit the stone wall. "Better than Harry's shoulder, I'm sure."

Harry simultaneously wanted to hug them and yell at them. "Fine, I'll go with you. We could all use some sleep."

"Right. We'll all go back to the tower," Hermione said. "Hear that, Ron? Harry will come with us. He will not stay here to keep watch."

"That's right," Harry said.

"Mmm-hmm," Ron murmured, unimpressed. "Sure, he'll go. And then he'll grab his Invisibility Cloak and run back here the moment I fall asleep."

"Of course not!" Harry spluttered, indignant, mostly because they had guessed his plan so well.
"We'll stay here," Hermione said firmly.

Harry slumped against the wall, making Hermione grumble as his shoulder rose and fell. "It's okay, really. You don't have to stay," he said. "I was going to..." Harry fell silent. His tone sounded whiny to his own ears. He had planned to sneak inside and keep an eye on Draco, but that was no longer possible. It probably wasn't possible before, he had to admit. Pomfrey had left, but Harry saw her cast several charms on the door and he doubted he would be able to get inside.

Hermione huffed. "Honestly!" she said and sprang to her feet. She mumbled to herself as she moved to the door, taking out her wand. "Draco Malfoy, of all people," she ranted under her breath, though Harry heard her. "Bloody blond git. Can't he go through a day without trying to die? That's what this is all about." She shot several spells at the door, lighting up the corridors with cheerful, twinkling colours. "It's a bloody fetish you have there, Harry."

She sounded so grumpy, Harry kept his mouth shut and did not even attempt to argue. His cheeks were on fire, he could feel it.

The lock on the door clicked open and Harry scrambled to get up.

"Wait here!" Hermione ordered and went inside, closing the door behind her.

Harry obeyed, too surprised to do anything else. He avoided looking at Ron, even though Ron's eyes were closed and he was still sitting down, leaning against the wall as though asleep.

"The Shield Charm," Ron said suddenly, his eyes still closed. "One charm, multiple applications. Intent is all that matters."

Harry stared at him. "Er, sorry?"

Ron did not say anything else and Harry's confusion only grew. Did Ron mean to say there was Shield Charm on the door? That he should cast a Shield Charm on the door? That Ron would cast the Shield Charm?

Perhaps Ron was half-asleep, Harry reasoned.

"Ron?" Harry said tentatively. "I don't know what you mean. What about the Shield Charm?"

Ron sighed, yawning a little, as though he truly was on the verge of sleep. "It will come to you," he said in a resigned sort of tone.

Harry had no time to question him further because Hermione stepped out of the hospital wing, tiptoeing. "Malfoy's asleep," she said. "And I persuaded Winky to let you stay inside."

"She's in there?"

"Not anymore. McGonagall mentioned she's keeping watch and would not let anyone in. I offered to knit her a pair of socks if she goes away." She looked at Harry crossly. "I'm terrible at knitting socks!"

"Er, thank you," Harry said, tempted to hug her, but she looked much too cross.

She huffed and went to sit beside Ron, promptly lowering her head to his shoulder. She laughed softly; it almost sounded like a giggle. "Ron, did you cast a Cushioning Charm on your shoulder?"

"They're just naturally free of boniness," he assured her, then squinted up at Harry. "Go away. I'm about to snog her."

Harry did not need to be told twice. He grinned and hurried inside just as Hermione laughed and said, "Oh, will you now?"

The hospital wing was dark; the candles were snuffed out, but faint moonlight peeked through the tall windows, illuminating the narrow beds. Most of them were empty; it was easy to spot Malfoy's blond hair splayed over a pillow on one of the beds by the windows. The only other occupant was Tommy Wright, though Harry did not see him, only knew he was concealed behind a white screen at the end of the room.

Harry checked Malfoy, staring at his sleeping form for a minute, before he found a spot on the floor, a little farther away, where he could be inconspicuous, but both the door and Malfoy's bed were inside his line of vision.

His thoughts wandered to Ron and Hermione, but quickly shied away from analyzing their behaviour. They were outside, keeping watch and, for now, that was all that mattered. Perhaps one day they would have to talk, but Harry was happy to postpone that. He was also happy not to think about Malfoy and everything that had happened between them today and had not involved Malfoy almost dying in a fire. Malfoy was in danger; that was important. The rest of it... the rest of it was too confusing to even contemplate. Malfoy was too confusing to contemplate, too.

I have nothing to think about, Harry concluded, but then decided to go through everything that had happened in the castle since... since the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. That was when it all began, was it not? Thinking about it did not help him much, except it kept his mind busy and awake, but Harry did have one suspicion and, though he could not see how it could be relevant, he did work out how to prove it. He planned to do just that tomorrow night. It might mean nothing, he was aware, but it was certainly easier to solve the puzzle if you had all the pieces at your disposal.

Malfoy stirred, groaning a little as he turned. Harry hoped that did not mean he was in pain.

Harry bit his lip and kept quiet as Malfoy sat up a little and searched for something on the bedside table. Harry was sitting in the dark side of the room, where the moonlight couldn't reach him; Malfoy could not see him, but Harry could see Malfoy.

A wand appeared in Malfoy's hand. He studied it for a moment and then pointed at his palm.

Harry's thigh burned. He almost yelped in surprise and reached into his pocket to take out his Galleon. It was glowing and Harry tried to conceal the light with his hand as he read the message. Hospital under attack, it proclaimed.

Harry grinned. He meant to stay hidden, but if Malfoy wanted him here...

Quietly, Harry stood up and stepped forward. "Under attack, is it?" he asked. It sounded much too loud in the silent room.

Malfoy sat up quickly, looking around. "Potter?"

Harry stepped into the faint light. "Got it in one."

Malfoy gave him a searching look. "How did you get here so fast?"

"Saviour's secrets," Harry assured him. If Malfoy did not guess Harry was here all along, Harry did not intend to volunteer that information. Harry waited for Draco to make a smartarse comment, but it never came.

"Will you make the poor sick person get up?" Malfoy asked. "Or do you plan to come closer anytime soon?"

Harry walked over warily. "What do you wa—"

Malfoy jumped forward, going on his knees, towering over Harry on the high hospital bed. His hands grabbed Harry's hair and angled his head, before Malfoy's lips descended for a bruising kiss.

It was the Quidditch pitch all over again. Harry's whole body reacted immediately. He could feel the heat of Malfoy's kiss all the way down to his toes. But it was even better this time; Malfoy's body was warm from sleep, not half-frozen from the wind. Harry's hands pushed beneath Malfoy's pyjama top to caress the warm, smooth skin of Malfoy's back.

Harry's cloak hit the floor and Malfoy's fingers tugged at the buttons of Harry's shirt, but Malfoy gave up halfway through, only opening the shirt enough to pull it down a little and revealed one of Harry's bony shoulders.

A trail of harsh bites and soothing licks covered Harry's jaw, the sensitive skin behind his ear and then Malfoy's teeth and lips attacked the tender spot where Harry's neck met his shoulder. Harry could not hold back his moan.

It seemed to encourage Malfoy and he bit down hard; the resulting shudder that passed through Harry's body weakened his knees.

Harry's hand slipped down, sliding beneath Malfoy's pyjama bottoms to rub against the smooth curve of Draco's arse in wonder.

I shouldn't touch him there, Harry thought, fingers exploring nonetheless, slipping lightly between the cheeks. A sudden nervousness stole Harry's breath away, his heart hammering in his chest, throat seizing up as his fingers slipped deeper into the warm crease of Draco's arse.

Draco wrenched free, pulled back so suddenly Harry felt cold and bereft. He quickly pressed his hands to his sides, afraid he had crossed the line.

"I'm—" Sorry, Harry meant to say, but Malfoy was pulling off his pyjama top over his head; it left his hair tousled, blond strands wild around his flushed face. The flush spread over his neck down to the top of his chest.

Harry stood by the bed, frozen as Malfoy struggled with the bedclothes tangled around his legs. He pushed down his pyjama bottoms, too; Harry could not see much, the sheet obscured his view as well as the dark night, but he caught sight of one narrow hip and pale skin of Draco's thigh.

He's naked under there. The nervousness from earlier hit Harry again, stronger this time, slowly morphing into a full blown panic attack. What did Malfoy expect? Harry did not know what to do. Malfoy was naked, sitting down and looking at Harry, expecting something as though Harry could give it to him. He wished he could, but fear did not let him move. Everything that had happened to him in his life, everything he had faced, nothing had ever been as terrifying as the thought of climbing onto the bed with a naked Malfoy.

"Clothes, Potter," Malfoy whispered, staring. "Off. Or do you plan to keep them?"

I'll keep them. That was a good idea. Running away right now was even a better one.

"Malfoy," Harry croaked, "I don't think—"
"Then don't think." Malfoy rose up, eyes fixed on Harry's as his hand reached and cupped Harry's crotch through his trousers, and squeezed. Harry gasped, his fear melting away, his world narrowing, focusing only on the firm pressure of Malfoy's palm.

Malfoy pulled away; the cruelty of it left Harry gasping in indignation.

"Off," Malfoy repeated and scooted to the side of the narrow bed.

Climbing onto the bed lost some of its scariness. There were more terrifying things in the world, Harry reasoned as he pulled off his shirt. The possibility of Malfoy refusing to touch him like that again was one of them.

Harry toed off his shoes, took off his trousers and socks and then, heart thumping madly, slipped down his underpants. There was no time to feel bashful, though. Malfoy's gaze fixed on Harry's cock, his approval, his desire so clear in his expression, Harry felt like he might burst from sheer relief.

Climbing onto the bed wasn't at all scary. Malfoy looked up at him, grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and pulled him down for a kiss. And just like that, Harry found himself lying down, chest pressed against Malfoy's, skin against skin, Malfoy's thigh pushed between Harry's legs, touching lightly against Harry's balls.

A surge of pure happiness made him smile against Malfoy's lips. More often than not, he had been convinced he would never experience this. There were times he was sure he would die before anyone had a chance to touch him intimately. He had convinced himself he didn't mind, had reasoned he didn't need it. But this, Malfoy's tongue moving against his, his hands everywhere, touching every part of Harry they could reach, it was not something he'd ever willingly give up on again.

I was an idiot. He still was, or else he would not be doing this with Draco Malfoy. That's all right, though, Harry reasoned, his hand escaping downward again, over Malfoy's hip, his thigh, his arse; in that moment, he did not mind being an idiot.

"Wait." Malfoy pulled away again, but he was so close this time Harry only had to bend his neck and his lips found Malfoy's neck. "Wait," Malfoy insisted. "We need..." He squirmed and struggled, and Harry lifted his head reluctantly. Malfoy had found his wand and was holding it in his hand, staring at the thin wood in deep concentration. "I can't remember," Malfoy whispered; he sounded distressed.

"Remember what?" Harry had no idea what could be so important that Malfoy had to stop kissing him. He couldn't think of anything; he couldn't think at all; his palm was sliding against Malfoy's arse, gripping one cheek, squeezing, caressing, moving to do same with the other. He pushed the bedcovers down, looked at his hand, at what it was doing, and stared at it in wonder. He could see Malfoy's cock, too, which was not unlike Harry's, except touching his cock had never been something too terrifying to contemplate. You're a Gryffindor, Harry told himself and boldly slipped his hand forward to wrap it around Malfoy's cock, but Malfoy reached down suddenly and snatched Harry's hand.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, his cheeks heating up, but Malfoy ignored him. He touched his wand to Harry's palm, muttering something incomprehensible. Now he'll cut off my hand because I've touched him where I shouldn't have, Harry thought sadly. He hoped Madam Pomfrey would be able to re-grow him a new one.

Malfoy did not cut off his hand, though. He only covered it with an oily, translucent substance, which was a very odd punishment, indeed. Harry stared at his hand uncomprehendingly, but then Malfoy cursed and grabbed Harry's fingers, squirming and twisting on the bed until he turned, lying almost on his stomach, his arm twisting behind, shoving Harry's hand to his arse, right between the cheeks. And then Harry's brain started miraculously to work again, even though all his blood seemed to have rushed lower, eager to make his cock pulse so hard it nearly hurt. There were things Harry had seen and heard long ago on the Dursleys' telly, and things his dorm mates would say that made little sense, turns of phrases Harry had used himself, and suddenly it all connected together and unravelled with a giant Oh of understanding. He thought he knew what had to be done, though that did not help him calm down, only served to fill him with fear. It was almost tempting to ask Malfoy if he could do it to Harry instead. If it hurt, then it would hurt; Harry could grit his teeth and take it. The thought of him doing it all wrong and hurting Malfoy, who had been tortured and had nearly burned to death hours before, was ten times worse.

Then don't hurt him, you idiot.

"Potter, for Merlin's sake." Malfoy groaned, voice muffled by the pillow, squirming and rubbing against Harry's hand. Don't hurt him, don't hurt him, Harry thought as he slipped his finger between Malfoy's cheeks, searching and finding the patch of furrowed skin. He lifted up a little, leaning on his elbow, then on his hand, sitting awkwardly on one side, one knee bent, trying not to fall down over the edge of the narrow bed.

The view of Malfoy's arse, his thighs, the curve of his spine was unobstructed and clear, pale skin, illuminated by moonlight, every part of it tempting.

Push, Harry ordered himself and his finger pressed inside. He was shocked but emboldened by the lack of resistance, but froze in the next second when his finger simply could not be pushed any further.

"Go on, go on," Malfoy insisted, pleaded, and Harry obeyed, against his better judgment.

It took forever to work his finger inside. Or maybe it took only a few seconds, Harry couldn't tell; he lost all sense of time. He lost all sense of everything but his finger slipping into the heat, feeling trapped there by the tightness.

Harry twisted around on the bed, struggling for a better position, until he ended up kneeling behind Malfoy, between his spread legs, the sight of his finger disappearing in the puckered entranced, gripped by the reddening rim, so fascinating Harry could not look away. Instead he pried Malfoy's arse cheeks further apart, so he could see better, even though thinking about what he was doing made blood rush to his cheeks and ears, heating them up to the point of boiling.

Malfoy could not stop talking, it seemed. He babbled constantly, encouraging, asking for more, telling Harry it was enough and he should just fuck him already; his every word soothed Harry's fears but he did not stop what he was doing, working another finger inside, then another, chest expanding from relief and wonder when Malfoy took them, clenched around them, pulled them deeper inside.

I know nothing, but neither do you, Harry thought as Malfoy bucked against Harry's fingers, again telling Harry it was enough and Harry should just fucking get on with it. A sheen of sweat covered Malfoy's skin; in the faint light, it looked like even his arse cheeks were blushing. He had risen up a little on his elbows, his moans becoming longer, deeper, his hips unable to keep still, bucking and twisting and pushing down.

I could come just from this, Harry thought, dazed, then panicked, realising he would indeed come if he did not stop stroking his cock. He wasn't even aware of touching himself.

Harry pulled his fingers away and Malfoy cursed so viciously, Harry feared he'd turn around and punch him. Harry almost hoped he would. He could have used a good punch right then; his slick hand was wrapped around his cock and Harry was sure he'd lose it if Malfoy failed to punch him.

But Malfoy did no such thing; instead, he grabbed the pillow and pushed it bellow his hips. His arse was on display, slicked and open, waiting for Harry.

With a low groan, Harry stopped stroking his cock, and scooted closer, reminding himself he was a Gryffindor.

His hands shook nonetheless as he pressed the head of his cock to Malfoy's hole and gritted his teeth before pushing inside a little, gasping at the feeling. Malfoy's whole body shuddered with the desperate little moan that had seared itself into Harry's mind days ago, right here in the hospital wing.

Harry's hands stroked and squeezed Malfoy's hips, slipping and losing their grip but fighting to retain it. He pushed again and again, Malfoy's moans filling his ears. Harry leaned forward, carefully stretched his legs, desperate to be even closer to Malfoy. He lay down, supporting himself on his elbows above Malfoy's body, pushing his pelvis downward, entering Malfoy inch by inch. You will not thrust, he ordered himself, you will not. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his breathing so shallow his lungs burned; the sight, the feel of Malfoy shuddering and moaning beneath him overwhelmed his senses, and the heat that surrounded his cock seemed to burn every inch of his body.

He thrust then, harder, his hips disobeying him. One of them gasped, or maybe both of them did. Harry froze for a second and then found himself kissing Malfoy's back, his shoulder blades, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Malfoy's breathless laugh came as a shock. "You will be sorry," he said haltingly, "if this takes all night." And then he clenched so hard around Harry's cock, Harry's eyes watered. "Potter," Malfoy said, and Harry couldn't tell if that was an order or a plea. It didn't matter. His hips knew what to do. They twitched up, then thrust down and Malfoy hissed, as though in pain, but he hissed yes, and Harry's hips moved again and again, unable to stop.

Harry was desperate to thank whoever had made sure he hadn't died before knowing how this felt, but that thought was pushed from his mind, replaced by Malfoy's voice that urged him to move faster, thrust harder. Harry obeyed, but no matter how hard or fast Harry moved, it was never enough for Malfoy. It didn't stop Harry from trying. It was all he could do: listen and obey. The air filled with moans and pants, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the alluring scent of sex; Harry's head had fallen to Draco's back, his nose inhaling his scent as Malfoy shuddered violently beneath him. The pressure against Harry's cock was unbearable; it spread down to his balls, up to his heart, squeezing and taking his breath away. He heard himself cry out as he came, a shiver after shiver of pleasure washing over him.

Harry collapsed forward, panting against Malfoy's back, wishing he could stay there forever. He knew he had to move, but he couldn't for long moments; his limbs were too heavy. Malfoy did not complain; he seemed to be regaining his breath, for once silent, with no insults or snotty remarks to throw at him.

They moved eventually, together as though they had reached a silent agreement. Malfoy winced as Harry pulled out of him and Harry marvelled he did not fall off the bed as they squirmed and twisted together, finding themselves lying close to each other, with Malfoy on his back and Harry on his side.

I should kiss him. Or he could say something, though he had no idea what. He did not dare to kiss Malfoy, either. He waited for the inventible moment when Malfoy would scowl and tell him to get out. Harry's stomach clenched at the thought. The last thing he wanted was to leave, but waiting for Malfoy to chase him out was even worse.

Harry bent his neck and kissed Malfoy's shoulder. One last taste before he sends me away. "Want me to leave?" Harry asked, studying Malfoy's face. I just had sex, he realised suddenly. I just had sex with Draco Malfoy. He could not suppress a giddy feeling that possessed him at the thought. Emboldened, he leaned closer and kissed Malfoy full on the lips. Seconds later, Malfoy responded, kissing Harry back, unhurried, almost gentle; his hands were in Harry's hair again.

"You probably should leave," Malfoy said, pulling away a little, then smiling suddenly and reaching up to fix Harry's glasses. His hand slipped to Harry's back, pressed him closer, the action at odds with his words. "If Pomfrey finds you here, she's likely to hex us both."

"But then she would just have to heal us," Harry reasoned. As long as Malfoy didn't insist, Harry had no intention of leaving. He did not intend to truly leave, anyway. It was only a matter of staying here, in Malfoy's bed, or staying outside in front of the door. With Ron and Hermione, who were still out there, waiting, keeping watch. Would they have done that if they knew what exactly Harry was doing inside?

It'll come to you.

Harry blinked. That was what Ron had told him before Harry went inside. The Shield Charm. One Charm, multiple applications.

The Shield Charm. For protection. And not from intruders, but... Harry's cheeks flamed. Ron had told him what to do, knowing, knowing before Harry knew that he would end up in Malfoy's bed. And Harry had forgotten, didn't even think of it. And now he remembered clearly, stumbling on Ron and Hermione's conversation over the summer, where she went on about safe sex and how it wasn't just about not getting pregnant. They were both flushed and looked horribly embarrassed and Harry had run away as fast as his feet would carry him.

"What?" Malfoy was frowning at him.

"We forgot..." Harry fell silent and shook his head. Next time. They won't forget next time. The thought made him happy again. Maybe next time could be now. "The pillow," he said. "We forgot the pillow."

Harry found it on the floor; it must have fallen when they had shifted around. Harry stood up, snatched the pillow from the other bed, and quickly returned to the warm spot beside Malfoy.

Malfoy was staring at him. "Nice arse, Potter."

"Was that a compliment? Did you just pay me a compliment?" Harry mock-gasped.

Malfoy scowled. "I said you're an arse, Potter. How is that a compliment?"

There it was again: the happy feeling in Harry's chest, spreading all over, tugging at the corners of his lips. Harry kissed Malfoy again; when he pulled away, Malfoy's scowl was gone. He was staring at Harry; the intensity of his gaze made Harry nervous.

"What?" he asked just as Malfoy said, "Are you even—?" Malfoy broke off, frowned, tugged at Harry's hair. He gave Harry a searching look.

"Am I what?" Harry remembered the Quidditch pitch, the way Malfoy had pushed him away, looking wild and scared. You're not even... he had said.

Malfoy did not reply. "How did you get here?" he asked instead. "I called you and you were here. How did you get here so fast?"

Harry thought that was a curious question. Did Malfoy think Harry had some extraordinary abilities? "I was here all along," Harry confessed, jerking his head toward the spot on the floor he had been sitting on earlier. "They didn't find Pritchard and the others, so I thought... I thought I'd stick around."

Malfoy gaze turned sharp. "What do you mean they didn't find them? Where could they possibly be?"

"I don't know. They're just gone. Ran away, I suppose."

Malfoy was quiet for a while. "Idiots," he concluded in the end. "And you stayed here to protect me," he added. It was not a question. Harry was surprised by the lack of mockery in his tone.

"Auror Potter, at your service." Harry forced a grin. Malfoy did not return it.

Instead, he tugged at Harry's hair again and said, "Yes, you are, aren't you?" The words were teasing, his tone was not.

"Did you think I Apparated here?"

"No. I just..." Another tug at Harry's hair; Harry's head was sore. Malfoy bit his lip, hesitating, and Harry held his breath. "Sometimes I end up somewhere, and I don't know how I got there. I thought it happened to you, too."

Harry remembered what Ginny had told him about Astoria. She had seen Malfoy go outside in the middle of the night more than once. He walks out and doesn't return for hours.

"That Sunday, when we found Tommy," Malfoy continued, voice barely above a whisper, "you asked me why I wasn't at the match. The truth is, I don't know. I was planning to go, and then... and then I was on the Astronomy Tower. I ran. I ran as fast as I could; I meant to go to the pitch, but I ended up there, instead. Outside the Room. I end up there most of the time. Though, not always."

"Malfoy, that's..." Harry's heartbeat sped up. He wanted to say understandable. If Malfoy was feeling lost, the thought of him going back to visit places that held the most horrible memories was not hard to imagine. Was the only thing Malfoy had been running from that day? Memories?

"Don't you see?" Malfoy was no longer whispering; he sounded upset. "You kept saying I cursed that kid, and maybe I did. The fire... it was my old dormitory, Potter. And Harper. Fell off the Astronomy Tower, of all places." Malfoy's breath hitched. "What if you're right? What if I... What if I'm behind everything?"

Harry stared at Malfoy's wild grey eyes. If he tried hard enough, he could link everything back to Malfoy. He remembered thinking that, but he had concluded that was the problem with his thought process; it had never led to a solution; it had only ever misled him. And apparently Malfoy was doing the exact same thing.

"Did you also Imperius Smith to kill you? Arranged your kidnapping today?"

Malfoy's eyes filled with confusion. "What does that have to do with anything? I know what Smith did and why. I know why Pritchard wanted to get back at me. I'm talking about the cursed kid, the fire, Harper."

"Did you Vanish Peeves?" Harry asked. "Did you move the staircases?"

"You're not listening, Potter." Malfoy was almost shouting; his fingers were no longer in Harry's hair. "I'm telling you I'm having blackouts. I don't know what I've done and what I haven't done."

"So... what? You're saying you were possessed? I was there on the staircase with you when they moved and almost killed us both. Did you move them with your mind?"

Malfoy stared at him.

"No," Harry said firmly. "No. It doesn't make sense. Why would someone possess you and make you Stun some random kid? Why would they have you Conjure a bunch of candles and set your old dormitory on fire? Why have you kill Harper?"

"Maybe I'm just ... mad." The look Malfoy gave him then was desperate.

"You didn't do it." He couldn't have. "You didn't. Don't even say that; don't even think that." Harry felt like someone had just handed him everything he had wished for and now tried to take it back.

"But—"

Harry silenced Malfoy with a kiss. A long, desperate kiss that left them both breathless.

"You didn't," Harry whispered and then kissed him again. Malfoy responded only with pants and moans and soon they were clinging to each other, cocks rubbing against one another, until Harry forgot to think again and Malfoy's hands squeezed Harry's arse, urging him to move faster.

Later, Harry buried his face in the crook of Malfoy's neck and breathed in deeply. He didn't do it, he told himself firmly, as Malfoy's fingers found their way to Harry's hair again.

"Real," Harry heard Malfoy murmur. "You're real."

---

TBC