Hello, I decided to post an extra chapter because I am so ahead with writing this.

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Warning: N/A

Chapter 4- Burdens Inside

"Are you sure we can't skip?" Draco asked again. Harry just stared steadily ahead of him, the same way he'd been doing the entire morning. As if Draco hadn't been progressively getting whinier and whinier the closer they got to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Are you even listening to me anymore?" Draco found himself snapping, and then finally Harry was turning to look at him.

"Frankly, no," he said, and Draco scowled. "Not when you've been saying the same thing all morning."

"You can at least attempt to be nice, Potter," Draco answered, and Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he was the one being ridiculous.

"You were the one who said skipping Defense would cause more problems than it would solve."

"That doesn't me you can ignore me!" Draco answered, feeling like stomping his foot to emphasize his point but somehow knowing that would be a step too far.

"Well, you can be rather annoying when you whinge so much."

It was so utterly frustrating, the way Harry was refusing to look at him, refusing to pay attention to him. They'd been doing well, no, they'd been doing better than well. And so what if Draco was a little impatient for more physical things between them, it wasn't as if he had pushed Harry. There was no reason for Harry to be turning toward him, green eyes sparkling with mirth and-

"You bastard!" Draco hissed, shoving Harry's shoulder. "You did that on purpose."

And Harry threw his head back and laughed.

The sound went straight through Draco, hitting him in a way he was sure nothing ever had before. Of course, he'd seen Harry laugh before, but it had always been that bitter twisted sound that couldn't really count as laughter. This was different. This was something that seemed to ripple out from Harry and shake the ground around them.

It stopped as abruptly as it started, and Harry was looking back at Draco without even a smile on his face. The seriousness on his face, left Draco with the horrible fascination of what he would look like if he did smile, because Draco had certainly never seen it before, and he was just beginning to realize how much he would like to.

"What?" Harry asked, shifting his feet. His face was beginning to turn red as Draco stared, wide-eyed and entranced. And then he blinked and managed to get ahold of himself.

"I've never seen you laugh like that before."

"Yes, well," Harry turned his head away, his flush darkening, and then he was turning and walking the rest of the way down the corridor. He stopped in front of the Defense classroom, looked back at Draco, and then slipped inside. Draco sighed and followed him.

He wasn't looking forward to a class taught by Lupin. Not half of which because Harry seemed to hate the man twice as much as Draco ever could. And indeed, it was no surprise when they walked in, and as soon as Lupin looked over at them, Harry scowled and moved to sit as far from him as possible.

When they'd been in the library last night, and for once they'd both been studying, Draco had tried to ask what Harry's problem was, but he had made it very clear he wasn't about to talk about it. And as much as it bothered Draco, the dark look in the back of Harry's eyes told him not to push his luck.

"Draco," A voice said, and he turned to find Blaise Zabini slidding into the desk next to his, smiling in that winning way of his.

"Blaise," Draco frowned.

"Potter," Blaise turned to Harry, whose eyes flicked over and then away.

"Not very friendly, is he?" Blaise's smile widened as if he were unconcerned, but Draco didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed and sharpened.

"Alright everyone," Lupin said. "Let's begin, shall we?" He was turning toward the board, his wand half raised as he continued talking. "Now, I know Professor Malfoy left off working on nonverbal shield charms and disarming charms as well as the introduction of the Lethifold. So, why don't I see what I'm working with, and we'll go from there?" There was a loud grumbling which Lupin promptly ignored. "Let's see, how about we start with Harry and Hermione?"

Hermione was on her feet immediately, springing to the front of the room in an effort to show off. Harry, however, was staring at Lupin with a mixture of disbelief and hate. Draco watched the way Lupin's jaw tightened and decided now was not the time for the silent battle going on between the two. As much as he wanted Harry to win, he didn't think it would benefit anyone if he started firing curses at their Professor. He nudged Harry and was rewarded with a glare that turned into a sigh and then Harry was rising out of his seat to stand opposite Granger.

"Think he'll beat her?" Blaise leaned over, his breath ghosting across Draco's skin. Draco promptly leaned away.

"Yes," he answered, and Blaise turned an eyebrow at him but even if Draco didn't know that Severus had been teaching Harry over the summer, he'd seen the fight between him and Voldemort in the woods.

Granger eyed Harry for half a second before her wand snapped out. Draco didn't even see Harry move, but he must have, or the shield charm wouldn't have worked against Granger's disarming charm. And then Harry's wand was flicking, graceful and easy, and Granger's wand was flying through the air and landing in Harry's palm with a smack. He spent a long second looking at it before he tossed it back to her and turned toward his seat.

"Very good," Lupin said. "Watch that shield charm, Hermione. You have to be prepared for all incoming attacks." Granger flushed and went to her seat, her face flaming as Lupin called two more people up.

"How did you do that, Potter?" Blaise asked, leaning over Draco, who crinkled his nose but didn't say anything. Harry, however, was already looking out the classroom window, ignoring everything around him as he always did when he found it particularly boring or upsetting.

"Practice," he answered, and Draco reached out. He didn't know what was wrong or even what had triggered Harry to close off. Maybe it had just been standing in front of everyone and having them stare, maybe it had been the reminder that he was so much better than the rest of the classroom. Draco didn't know, but he did wish Harry would talk to him instead of staring out the window. Of course, Harry leaned away from him, curled in on himself and turned his head further away. Draco sighed and turned to watch the nonverbal duel in the middle of the classroom, promising himself he would deal with this later.

Blaise had always insisted that just because he didn't hold class rank with people like Draco and Potter and Granger didn't mean he wasn't as smart as them. He'd always said he was more intelligent than Granger if someone were to start judging street smart instead of book smarts.

And Blaise—while all the other 'smarter' people in the room may not have—recognized the look in Potter's eyes.

Potter turned his head just enough to catch his eye. That tired yet determined look in those green eyes. It was the look of someone who didn't want to be here, someone who had a responsibility they hated. A responsibility that was too heavy for them. It was the look Blaise had seen in the mirror every time his mother had married another rich wizard and ordered him to be polite and charming, no matter how much Blaise himself despised the man.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Potter, but the other boy just turned his head away, lips twisting in an impressive sneer.

Draco had tried to reach out to Potter, but Blaise could have told him how well that would have worked. Or at least how well it had worked every time Blaise had gotten himself into such a state. He wondered why Potter felt that way; he wondered about the gentle frustration he saw in Draco's eyes whenever he looked over at him.

Eventually, Lupin let the class go, saying something about wanting them to enjoy their lunch or some such Gryffindor nonsense that Blaise ignored entirely. As the class rushed to pack and scramble toward the door, he lingered over his bag, shuffling closer to Draco.

Potter spared him a look, full of contempt and indifference and thoughtfulness, and Blaise's hands froze; Potter couldn't know. But he was already turning away, his face bent away from both Blaise and Draco as if he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking, and Blaise wasn't sure he'd seen what he'd been sure he'd seen in the first place.

"See you later," Potter muttered and then was gone out the door. Draco just sighed, a long drawn out sound as he looked after him. It struck Blaise through the gut; he'd never heard Draco sound like that. He'd never seen Draco look after someone like that. Not in the long years they'd been in Hogwarts together. And he couldn't stop himself from wishing it wasn't Potter Draco felt that way about.

"Draco," he stepped forward, standing in his vision. Draco noticeable shifted, his silver-grey eyes snapping to Blaise with something like surprise. "Lunch?"

"Oh, sure," he answered, and then lead the way out of the Defense classroom. Blaise stared; he'd told himself he wouldn't. He'd told himself that he would do what he would do no matter what; that Draco and Potter's relationship really wasn't any of his business, but it was harder than he thought it would be. He'd spent the past couple weeks watching as they got closer and closer, and he wanted to know. He could hear Granger and Weasley's words echoing in his head, and he wanted to know.

He wanted to know if Draco saw in Potter what Blaise had seen. If he saw the quiet energy and tired fight that Blaise had never been interested enough to pay attention to until today. But then, that couldn't be all that Draco saw because even though that left Blaise curious, it didn't leave him curious enough to go chasing as Draco had done.

"So," he hesitated, and then forged on. Nothing for it now. "You and Potter?" Draco stopped walking, turning to look at him with intense silver-grey eyes that were just a touch too defensive.

"What about it?"

"Nothing, I just find it interesting."

"Well, find it interesting somewhere else." Draco snapped, turning his head away and continuing to walk. "I don't need your criticism."

"I wasn't criticizing," he snapped back, rushing to keep up. And that should have been enough proof that Weasley and Granger were right, that Potter and Draco weren't goo for each other. But Blaise had never known of anyone Draco really liked, much less enough to care if he was criticized for it. He hesitated before trying again. "I was just asking if you really liked him."

"Of course, I do," Draco turned back to him, eyes flashing the same way they did when someone had insulted his very name. "Why would you ask that?"

"I just-," Blaise stopped himself, continuing to walk as they neared the great hall. And he hated the wave of disappointment that shot through him. He'd tried to warn himself not to go poking around; he'd warned himself that he wouldn't like what he would find. "Nothing, Draco. We'd best get lunch."

Draco gave him an odd look but followed him over to the Slytherin table anyway. Blaise sat for a long time before raising his head to meet the two pairs of eyes focused on him from across the hall. He stared back at Granger and Weasley for a minute before turning his head away and engaging Draco in a conversation about their next class.

Harry spent most of lunch tracking down The Grey Lady. His stomach felt hollow, his hands shaking as he moved through the corridors of Hogwarts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a full meal. It wasn't yesterday; maybe the day before…? He'd had a snack before he went to bed last night.

He used to at least eat once a day, if only because he hated the way not eating made him feel weak. Even if he had to eat in the kitchens with the house elves, he would do it. But recently, he couldn't find it in himself to go eat. He had a job to do.

And eventually it paid off, he found The Grey Lady the same way he'd found her before. The usually frequented places that contained knowledge, places that were lively. He checked the Gryffindor tower, the teacher's offices, and the library before he eventually found her perched on a window seal overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts.

She didn't look up as he approached, but she hadn't last time either.

"Grey Lady?" He said, and she looked over at him, but made no response. He sighed and sat on a nearby window seal. "I've come for the same reason. I need to find Ravenclaw's Diadem. Do you know where it is?" The ghost just continued to stare at him for a long time. Long enough that he couldn't help thinking he was just wasting his time. Even if she did know, she obviously wasn't going to tell him.

"You remind me of the other one," The Grey Lady murmured quietly, so quietly Harry almost missed it. He jumped, having already descended into his own mind.

"What? What other one?"

"He was persistent like you," she said, turning her head away and looking back over the grounds. "And you have the same darkness in your eyes that can almost be mistaken for gentleness."

"I-," he swallowed harshly, the bitter taste of bile going back down before he could stop it. He was standing before he could stop himself, his muscles tensed against what he knew she was saying but didn't want to accept. "What are you talking about?"

"He asked like you for my mother's diadem, and then he stole it," she turned back to him, her voice warping with an angry fire that made Harry take a stumbling step back . "He corrupted it, and I will not make the same mistake again."

"You think…" He trailed off, and he was shivering. He didn't know when he'd started shivering, but he couldn't seem to stop. "You think I'm like Voldemort."

"Begone, and do not come back."

"But I want to destroy what-,"

"Begone! I will not fall for your tricks again!" She yelled, her ghostly voice filling the space around him and echoing around in his head, and he was running before he knew what he was doing.

Running and leaning over something, pressing his forehead against something cool and damp, and vomiting and vomiting to the very idea that he could be- that he was-

Curling up, wrapping numb arms around himself and only now realizing how wet his face was as he pressed it against something clothed and boney—his knees probably. He was crying and someone was gasping and it was so annoying, why wouldn't they stop? His throat hurt and he hurt and he was trembling, couldn't seem to stop trembling...

"Harry?" Someone's voice, sounding very far away. Hands reached out, and he tried to flinch away, but they were already there, lifting him up and against someone's chest. And he was relaxing before his conscious mind knew what his unconscious already did.

"Severus," he whispered back, his voice low and hoarse from crying.