A/N: Oh dear.

Yes, well, I'm a bit busy.

I swear I'm going to finish this eventually.

But right now I'm a bit busy.

But I finally finished an AkuRoku! Yes!

It's not going to be up until the 13th, though.

Ah well.

If you want more to read, check out my profile, or Blue Funk's profile, or freak.with.a.shoe, or moose.with.a.shoe.productions. All slash, varying fandoms.

Harry paced his own common room, mind whirling. Not in a literal sense, of course, but there were lots of ideas just kind of banging away at each other inside his head. The most overwhelming train of thought centered on Draco, whom he hadn't seen since that morning when the blonde had kicked him out of the hospital wing and broken down into tears. He didn't know what had happened to the other boy, or how he was handling this whole situation. Harry couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of relief that Draco and Blaise hadn't succeeded in their mad plot. He also couldn't help the fact that he wished anyone but Draco had been turned into a girl—excepting himself, of course—if only because he wasn't attracted to Draco in his current state.

Though, to be entirely honest, he wasn't sure that was a bad thing. If he wasn't attracted to him, maybe the whole Draco thing would just pass on its own. After all, Madame Pomfrey had told him that no one had ever found another potion that would reverse the changes brought on by a sex change. He supposed that another potion would be out of the question, but he didn't quite know why. This was why he had nearly flunked Potions last semester. He assumed that Snape would probably be able to come up with some hideous concoction that would help, but he was hardly about to go and have a nice chat with the potions master on Draco's behalf. He supposed someone should probably tell Dumbledore if they hadn't already—he was sure that the headmaster would be able to come up with some sort of solution. He wandered out of the common room and out into the main hallways, mumbling to himself.

He didn't even notice that his feet had taken him to the headmaster's office until the statue blinked at him, expecting some sort of password. Harry blanked on any sort of password he could use, then blurted out "Since when do statues blink?" to the silent gargoyle. Apparently this was, in fact, the password to Dumbledore's office, as the statue turned aside with no further movements. Harry's shoes made a light scuffing noise as he trudged up the stone staircase, each step seeming like a worse idea.

"But Headmaster, how can you expect the boy to go through this and remain at school? Surely it would be less traumatizing and much safer for Mr. Malfoy to simply return home to his parents until a more suitable arrangement can be made." McGonagall's quivery voice was easily distinguishable, even in the echoing space of the stone halls.

Dumbledore sighed, the sound seeming to be more of a wheeze than anything else. "Minerva, surely you can see how such a situation as Draco has gotten himself into would be less than advantageous for his health—"

"Well, of course I can see that, the boy's been emasculated!"

"Actually, my dear, I was referring more to Lucius Malfoy's anger when he discovers his son and heir to be no longer his son, but his daughter. I'm certain you can understand why sending him home to face his father would not be the most commendable plan at this point."

McGonagall's silence was more than enough of an answer at this point. Harry crept up to the door, fear and curiosity merging at this point to drag him closer to the conversation taking place within.

"Headmaster…" Snape's oily voice broke in. "Perhaps we should take no further course of action until we have learned more about what exactly happened to… dear Draco. I would hate for us to make any hasty decisions… especially with Mr. Potter lurking outside your door."

A pair of footsteps rushed over to the door, and Harry barely had time to register his presence being discovered before McGonagall yanked him to his feet.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall demanded furiously.

"I… uh… errr…" Harry responded in an extremely lucid manner, thus conveying his deepest emotions to McGonagall and explaining perfectly his exceedingly sound reasoning behind snooping outside the headmaster's office. "Y'see… eh… well… erm…"

Snape broke in. "Clearly, headmaster, Mr. Potter was searching for gossip to bring back to his /Gryffindor/ fellows. I have no doubt that had he heard more of our conversation the entire school would know Draco's delicate… condition."

"Wha— you can't honestly believe that it's been kept any sort of secret, Sn— Professor Snape." Harry sputtered indignantly.

"I trust my students." Snape declared greasily. "But clearly, Minerva, you cannot do as much. How sad… like father, like son I suppose."

Dumbledore raised a hand, and the two ceased their bickering. "Severus, please. Let bygones be bygones. I'm sure he must have some sort of explanation… Harry?"

"Actually, Professor—" Harry said. "I was coming to ask you if there was anything to be done for Draco, or whether perhaps Professor Snape would be able to brew another potion."

Snape's eyes lit up. "This was done by a potion, then? Clearly a botched potion, if it sent Mr. Malfoy into a sickness as great as his was rumored to be… now, let me think, who would want revenge on Malfoy badly enough to risk brewing a highly unstable potion with negative side affects… and who could be motivated by guilt to come and inquire as to Mr. Malfoy's condition? Clearly it would be a student with no skills whatsoever when it came to the precise art of Potions, most likely a foolishly honorable student at that… now, let me think, who could this be?" He inquired slimily.

"It wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking, PROFESSOR." Harry snarled. "You seem a bit reluctant to think that your darling Slytherins are even capable of doing wrong… speak to your precious Blaise if you want to know the real bungling fool here."

Dumbledore sighed. "Minerva, Severus, would you be so good as to allow me a moment with Harry?" The two professors muttered to themselves as they left Dumbledore's office, but acquiesced nonetheless.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, I swear, I never—" he fell silent as Dumbledore nodded.

"I know what you are and are not capable of, Harry, and I must say that I do not believe you could or would do something like this to a fellow student." Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "However, I do believe that your motives in this case are not entirely just concern for your rival. Is there something else occurring between you and Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry squirmed slightly. "I don't quite know what to say to that, Professor. Honestly…"

"It is always better to be honest, Harry." Dumbledore interjected.

"Errr. I don't know what to say, really."

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well then, Harry. I trust that in the near future if you discover that you do in fact know what to say, you will notify me. I shall inform both Severus and Minerva that you were drawn here merely out of the goodness of your heart, and that they are not to pester you. Will that suffice?"

"Thank you, sir, really." Harry said with relief. "I'll just show myself out, then, shall I?"

"That would be fair, I think, seeing as for all practical accounts you also managed to show yourself in. Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"I do believe that your friend Ronald's older brothers have perfected their Extendable Ears, have they not?"

"…Yes, Professor…"

"I would advise you to acquire a pair of those if for any reason you decide to listen in on other people's conversations once again."

Blaise knocked timidly on his best friend's door, praying that the volcano that had taken over Draco's temper was going to be someone assuaged by the copious amounts of chocolate he had conjured up. Of course, he never would have thought of that if not for the advice of a seventh-year girl, but he didn't need to tell Draco that.

"What do you want, you idiot?" Draco moaned through the pillow he had pulled over his head.

Blaise debated the pros and cons of just shoving the chocolate through the doorway and tiptoeing away, but figured that Draco would figure out it had been him eventually. "I brought you some chocolate…" he ventured timidly.

Draco perked up immediately. "Chocolate?" he questioned anticipatorily.

Blaise groaned inwardly. Of course. It had to be him to bring the angsty Slytherin shemale chocolate. "Yes, Draco, I brought you chocolate. Nice chocolate. Good chocolate. You don't want to hurt someone who brings you chocolate, now do you? Chocolate goooooood." He said soothingly.

"For God's sake, Blaise, I've been turned into a girl, not a brain-dead vegetable like yourself."

"Draco, we've been over this before. No matter what I am—brain-dead vegetable, moron, idiot, dunce, fool, or seemingly tactless Slytherin, I still have one perpetually redeeming feature."

Draco made some noise of disagreement, then reached stealthily for the chocolate in Blaise's outstretched hands.

"Tut, tut, Draco, a bit greedy, aren't we?" Blaise said teasingly, pulling the chocolate just out of Draco's reach.

Draco growled in the back of his throat, the noise sounding more like the sound a cat makes before coughing up a hairball than that of a menacing tiger about to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. Unfortunately, Draco's original goal had been more towards the latter, so he had really failed in that aspect "No, you arsehole. I want the sodding chocolate."

"Awww, but Draco…" Blaise pouted. "You don't even seem like you care about my one redeeming feature… how sad. I guess I'll just have to take my chocolate somewhere else and talk to people who appreciate me."

Draco made an anguished noise that sounded remarkably like a yelp, though if you asked anyone in the surrounding area they would have insisted that it was not a yelp. And if it was, it was a very manly yelp. But you didn't hear that from them, of course. And no, they weren't scared of Draco normally, much less when he was PMSing.

"Blaise, give me the goddamn chocolate or I will rip your balls off and barbeque them before feeding them to your rabid fangirls."

Blaise immediately blanched, and gently set the chocolate down on the bed next to Draco. "Now, I must be off, ta ta, darling!" He said in a voice about nineteen octaves higher than normal before scurrying out of the room with his hands shielding his threatened appendages.

"Blaise?" Draco called after a few moments of gorging himself of Belgian chocolate.

Blaise snuck his head around the doorframe, trying to keep his body as far away from the door as possible. Unfortunately for Blaise, gravity was still in effect when he attempted this, so he ended up crashing flat on his face. This time he managed not to break his nose, but merely stood up and rubbed his hip bone. "Oooh…" he groaned. "I'm not sure I can walk… damn you, hard stone floors! Damn you I say!"

Draco made a vague attempt not to giggle, but failed miserably. "Blaise, you are my best friend, and I can't think of a single redeeming feature you could possibly possess. Is that a bad sign?"

Blaise slumped dejectedly, his overly dramatic body language looking more ludicrous than crushed. "Draco… how could you forget about my killer abs?"

Draco sighed and offered Blaise a hand to pull himself up off the floor. Blaise smirked at the proffered hand, then grabbed it and yanked the blonde onto the floor beside him. Draco squealed in a most feminine manner as he plopped onto the floor, feeling ever more grateful that his father had sent him with new Oriental rugs the previous year. If he hadn't… Draco shuddered to think of the possible Blaise-esque injuries he most likely would have incurred. He quickly lost this train of thought as Blaise began to tickle him, and amazingly high-pitched shrieks echoed throughout the Slytherin dormitories as the… prince? Princess? Various ruler-like personage of power?—of Slytherin rolled on the floor in a fit of giggles.

Draco suddenly ceased his peals of laughter, freezing. "Blaise…" he semi-whimpered. "Was that me? The Pansy-like squeals? Oh god, Blaise, please tell me that wasn't me."

Blaise Zabini was facing a rather more serious problem than he had originally thought. His best friend was squirming around on the floor—one might even say writhing—and said best friend had boobs. Boobs that really hadn't been there as of yesterday. And as of yet, he wasn't used to Draco in his current state.

"Huh?" Blaise said in an amazingly clear and comprehensible answer to Draco's question. "What? You said something?" he muttered as he stared.

Draco slammed his head on the baseboard of his bed. "Blaise." He groaned.

Blaise's eyes never wandered from their targets as he murmured "Yeah? What? Sure."

"BLAISE!" Draco yelled as he waved his hands frantically in front of his chest.

Startled out of his mammary-induced stupor, Blaise jumped as he came back to earth. "Uh. Errr. Sorry, mate…"

"You're an idiot. Get out of my room." Draco hissed, stony-faced.

Blaise slunk out of the room as Draco glared at his exiting back.

Harry strode out of the headmaster's office, smirking as he saw the startled look on Snape's face as the man jumped back from the opening door. "Eavesdropping, Professor?" he queried as he started the descent on the granite stairs, enjoying the sneer Snape returned without his customary witty comeback nearly as much as the fact that he had gotten off without any punishment whatsoever.

As he meandered down in the general direction of the great hall, he realized that Hermione hadn't said a word to him since the whole revenge incident. He hadn't expected her to react as strongly as she had to the whole thing… it just didn't make any sense whatsoever to him. He had half expected Ron's reaction to him coming out, though he hadn't wanted it to happen the way it had. He could only imagine what a shock it had been for Ron to turn the corner and see him and Malfoy the way he had… oh dear. Harry had planned to go to the great hall and snag some breakfast—he'd hardly eaten in the past few days—but detoured to the Gryffindor dormitories to find his old best friend.

Seamus and Dean seemed to have stepped into Fred and George's roles as the Gryffindor troublemakers, and they were doing admirably well. They had moved on from simply building card castles of Exploding Snap decks to trying to convince the king from Ron's chess set to move into the fully constructed castle. At first the king had been somewhat dubious, going so far as to enquire the exact location of Seamus and Dean's eyebrows, but after the queen had seen the spiral staircase the two had constructed there was no stopping them from moving the whole set into the castle. Dean was standing behind the castle laughing silently as Seamus extolled the castle's virtues as easily as any realtor to the rapt queen. Harry pulled the portrait over the opening once again as he stepped softly into the room, noting the somewhat ludicrous scene in front of him.

"So really, it has all the amenities you would expect of a stone castle but without the builder's fee!" Seamus chirped cheerfully as the queen nodded. "And we're asking very little of you, really. In return, you and your entire court will be housed for free, remember?"

The queen nodded once again, though this time somewhat skeptically. "You believe that us refusing to do whatever one Ronald Weasley orders us to do is very little, do you?" she said, her voice seeming very small and insignificant when compared to the silent majesty of the queen who had taken Ron in the chess game first year.

"Well, yeah." Seamus sputtered, losing all of his realtor qualities in eight letters and a comma. "You… uh, you… Have you seen the upstairs yet?"

Harry shook his head as he walked past the arguing pair, then seated himself behind Dean on the overstuffed couch. "What exactly are you two trying to do, Dean?" he hissed through his teeth.

"We're trying to convince Ron's chess set to turn on him in exchange for an exploding castle." Dean summarized quite succinctly.

Harry stared blankly, then shook himself. He should really have learned to never expect anything that made even the slightest logical sense from these two… he'd known them for six years, after all. "I… see."

Dean grinned shamelessly. "Excellent, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's exactly how I'd put it, really. Excellent." Harry muttered sarcastically. "Say, have you seen Ron recently?"

Slumping onto the couch next to Harry, Dean shook his head. "Uh, Harry, I'm not sure he really wants to talk to you. He said something about you fraternizing with the enemy last time I asked him what was going on, and then gave me this death glare. I'm not sure approaching him is the best idea for your health or the rest of our sanity."

"What sanity?" Harry quipped, trying to keep the sadness he felt at Ron's grudge from showing.

Dean shrugged. "Damned if I know. Hermione's been acting rather strange lately as well, hasn't she?"

"I… I guess so." Harry agreed faintly.

"So what's with that, then, Harry?" Dean queried, his eyes focused on Harry's.

Harry turned away from Dean's piercing gaze, trying to think of some answer to the blunt question. "I… I don't know."

Dean made an odd sort of cough-laugh in the back of his throat. "Bull, Harry. You know exactly why."

"Well… sort of."

"No sort of about it, mate. What happened?"

Harry sighed. "Well…remember when we did the heating draughts?"

Hermione paced the room angrily. "And now he just abandons us for Malfoy? Malfoy, of all people!"

Ron nodded. "Weren't we supposed to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"YES." Hermione flat-out yelled. "Yes, Ronald, we were. And do you know why we no longer are?"

Ron shook his head meekly, though he had an inkling of suspicion of what this tirade was about.

"Because our best friend has fallen for Malfoy. Now, I had no major objections to this at first. Other than Malfoy being a pretentious bastard."

"Other than that, yeah." Ron echoed, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow.

Hermione slammed her book down on the table. "But now he's gone completely out of his mind. He's forgotten that even when we've had our own things going on we've been there for him."

Ron was confused. Extremely confused, one might say. Even for Ron. "Wait… what do we need him for right now?"

"Well…" Hermione paused, a puzzled expression on her face. "Nothing, really. But that's not the point, Ronald!"

"Then what IS?" Ron muttered plaintively.

Hermione blinked owlishly. "Errr. Harry abandoned us and his principles for someone he likes?"

Ron shrugged. "Seems like a decent reason to me, really."

"…the someone he likes is Malfoy, Ronald."

"I take that back. And stop calling me Ronald, Herm. You're not my mother."

Hermione groaned and seated herself primly on one of the overstuffed chairs. "That's not the point either! Harry's acting like he doesn't care about us anymore!"

"Well, good riddance. I'm not about to hang out with a fag." Ron grunted.

Hermione gasped, then stalked over to Ron and slapped him full across his face. "Ron, Harry is our friend. It doesn't matter—"

"It bloody well does matter!" Ron yelped, pulling himself up out of his chair and up to his full height. "I've been his friend for six years, Hermione! God only knows how many times we've showered after Quidditch! Who knows what's been going on in his head! My god—don't you get it? This changes everything!"

Hermione shook her head contemptuously. "I'm ashamed of you, Ron." she whispered as she left.

Hermione burst into the common room, slamming the portrait shut behind her. The Pink Lady gasped in indignation as her frame shook from the impact, shaking her finger at Hermione's departing back and tutting crossly. Seamus and Dean glanced up from their card-castle watching, then turned to each other in confusion as she silently exploded into tears of anger. Dean crept closer as Seamus quickly cast a spell on the castle to immobilize the chess pieces, then strode over to the distraught girl.

"…Hermione?" Dean murmured, lowering himself against the portrait hole to sit next to his sobbing friend.

"He's just… god, Dean, he's an idiot!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice muffled by the tears she had yet to shed.

Seamus mouthed 'Who?', but Dean had no reply. Wrapping one arm around Hermione's shoulders, he pulled her closer. "What happened now, Herm?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"He… he's given up on him." Hermione said, brushing her tears away from her eyes.

Dean responded only with a questioning glance, and Hermione sighed. "Ron. He's given up on Harry."

"I see." Dean said quietly, and Seamus threw him another one of those pesky questioning glances. Luckily Dean and Seamus had finely honed the art of having whole conversations through glances, and Seamus understood from Dean's responding glance that Dean would explain the whole thing later.

Hermione turned to Dean and examined his face for the truth. "Did Harry…"

"Yeah, he told me everything. He thought you were angry with him too, though… has something changed?"

Hermione looked down. "I'm a fool, really. I was too self-centered to think of anything besides how this affected me, and I wasn't thinking or caring about how hard this whole thing must be for Harry."

"WHAT whole thing?" Seamus yelped, not able to wait until 'later', whenever that may have been.

"I thought you said he told you!" Hermione exclaimed, punching Dean.

"I did! He did! I mean… agh. You know what I mean." Dean said, rubbing his arm.

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "Then how does he not know?" she said, angrily gesturing at the Irish boy.

Dean sulkily muttered something about not telling Seamus every bloody thing, then turned back to the indignant boy. "Harry plus Malfoy equals action."

Seamus' jaw dropped to somewhere between his ankles, then recognition spread slowly across his face. "That's who he was kissing! Blimey, you were right, it was a bloke!"

Hermione's eyes swept across the chattering pair. "You mean… you don't care?"

"Of course not!" the two chorused.

"Why should we care whether he likes boys, girls, or basilisks?" Seamus said cheerfully.

"Ew. Basilisks?" Hermione said, disgust apparent on her face.

"Merely for emphasis." Seamus reassured quickly, then brightened. "Wait, so what's going on now that our precious Slytherin prince is a girly-man?"

Dean chuckled to himself. "There's no man about him, Seamus."

"Fine then. Girl. Girly-man sounds better, you know."

"But it's not technically accurate…" Hermione chimed in.

"Bloody hell, Hermione…" Dean sighed exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry! It's just not accurate! Draco Malfoy has technically been turned into a girl, assuming the potion those two idiots managed to brew performed its basic function. Eventually his brain will adjust to the change as well, and he'll begin to think like a girl in addition to looking like one. There's not anything manly about him, as Dean said." Hermione argued.

"So… how's Harry taking this, then?" Dean asked once again, trying to change the subject before Hermione became completely irate with the less literate.

"I don't know, that's the thing!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's still mad at me, I think."

Dean chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "He thinks you're still mad at him."

"Oh dear." Hermione sighed, then pulled herself to her feet. "I should go talk to him, really."

"He said he was going to the library before he left earlier." Dean pointed out, standing up and towering over Hermione once again.

"He never went to the library, though. I was there all morning and he never once came in."

Harry strolled out of the common room, grinning broadly at how well Dean had taken it. He would have told Seamus, too, but he just didn't have the energy to go over the whole story again. Dean would probably fill Seamus in later anyway. Those two were closer than he and Ron had ever been, and most likely closer than he and Ron ever would be again. Harry wandered aimlessly throughout the castle, all thoughts of the library forgotten. He kept replaying the good moments, bad moments, funny moments he and Ron had shared, and he missed Ron already.

Turning the corner, his head connected with a moderately hard object. Harry reeled back in shock as an anguished cry of "My nose! Not again…" echoed through the stone corridors. Harry was less than surprised to determine that the nose his head had apparently slammed into belonged to Blaise Zabini, considering the unfortunate boy's track record when it came to ridiculous injuries. The Slytherin boy recoiled sharply, his momentum carrying him backwards until he collided noisily with the statue of armor standing silently behind him. The sound of the resulting crash carried all the way to the great hall, people jumping to their feet as they heard it. At the sound of the high-pitched shriek that followed, all those who had stood realized it was just another Blaise moment and promptly sat back down to resume their meal.

Blaise looked pitifully up at Harry, the knight's helmet balanced precariously on one side of his head. Harry's only sign of amusement was a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth as he attempted not to burst out laughing at the deranged boy. Offering the fallen idiot a hand, Harry hauled him to his feet. Blaise gingerly fingered the angle his nose now made, and Harry groaned and pulled his wand out.

"I swear to God, Blaise, if you don't learn how to do this yourself you're going to end up dead by next year. Episkey."

Blaise whined in pain as his nose realigned itself, fanning it frantically as white-hot heat coursed through the cartilage. Pressing gently on his nose, he discovered a complete and total lack of pain and subsequently launched himself at the shorter boy. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he squealed in joy, his voice reaching levels that had been previously unheard from 16-year-old boys who were not opera-singing sopranos.

Harry patted Blaise awkwardly on the back, then choked out "…air…" as Blaise's shoulder blade cut off his air supply. After all, oxygen is considered a good thing in most cultures.

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry!" Blaise exclaimed, patting Harry gently on the back as he let go immediately.

"It's fine." Harry muttered, rubbing his throat.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Blaise yelped.

"Shut up, Blaise. And stop apologizing." Harry grumbled.

"…sorry!" Blaise whimpered.

Harry grunted and slumped down at the base of the wall. "You apologize way too much. And don't you dare apologize for that."

"Sorr—I mean, get over it, Potter." Blaise said gruffly.

"…yeah. That's just odd." Harry said, an unbidden smile appearing on his face.

"Sor—" Blaise groaned in frustration as he went to apologize for the thousandth time.

"Seriously, Blaise, it's fine." Harry said, craning his neck to look up at the taller boy. "Sit down, or I'll get a crick in my neck from looking at you."

Blaise glanced questioningly at Harry, wondering why the boy was willing to even look at him, much less speak to him. After all, he'd attempted to turn Harry into a girl. So what possible reason could he have to speak to him?

"…How's Draco?" Harry asked after a minute.

"Hah! I knew it—I mean, he's fine." Blaise said nonchalantly.

Silence fell upon the corridor for a long moment, then Harry turned to Blaise. Blaise could see the worry in Harry's eyes, see that he didn't quite believe Draco was fine.

"Really?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Well… no. He's taken it pretty hard… I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't. He's not quite used to the whole…" Blaise gestured in front of his chest, then made a face. "My god, though, they're HUGE. I mean…"

Harry blinked rapidly as Blaise's mouth opened slightly and his eyes glazed over. "Uhhh… Blaise?" Harry questioned, waving a hand in front of the other boy's face.

Blaise jumped and shook himself as he realized that Harry had started talking to him. He quickly came back to normal—or at least, what passed for normal when Blaise was around. "Uh. Sorry. Yeah. It's rather distracting, really."

"I gathered." Harry said dryly. "Is he okay, though?"

"I guess so. He's just been really upset over the whole thing. I mean, I understand it, but he's been really freaking out over it." Blaise sighed and continued. "I feel bad for messing the whole thing up. I mean, it seems like no matter what happens it's always me who messes it up. I can't manage to do anything without hurting myself—or worse, hurting someone else."

Harry hadn't ever heard a sentiment like this from Blaise before, and didn't quite know how to respond at first. He settled for awkwardly wrapping an arm around Blaise's shoulders and patting his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry." He said, wishing he was eloquent enough to say something that would make the boy realize that it wasn't always his fault. Blaise turned to Harry, a single tear in the corner of his eye, and then turned away again.

"Me too." Blaise whispered. "Me, too."

Draco slunk out of the Slytherin common room, slight figure draped in an overly large sweatshirt he had found in Blaise's room. His feet lead him along the path he took to Transfiguration every day before he realized that there were no classes on Sundays. Mentally berating himself for acting like Blaise, he wandered aimlessly about the castle for a few moments before coming across a suit of armor splayed along the hallway. Realizing that Blaise must be nearby, he rounded the corner just in time to see Blaise lean over and kiss Harry, whose arm was draped casually around the taller boy's shoulder. Draco watched in horror as Harry's hands slid to rest on Blaise's shoulders, then gasped in shock as his own heart tore in his chest. He turned on his heel and fled the scene, eyes watering with something he couldn't quite define.