Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is me informing you all so I don't get sued.

A/N: Okay. I really want your guys' opinion on something. I have about a month and a half left of summer, before I begin college and get swamped with all that stuff. But, I have a lot of stories that are fairly developed (I have 8 or so chapters in them), and I'm wanting to know if I should just go ahead and post them—for fear I won't be able to in college. I guess the only reason I'm conflicted with this is because for the last several years I've done one story at a time to make sure I finish it, but I'm so attached to this story now that I don't think there's any chance I would stop writing it. So...shall I begin posting my other two stories? One is another H/D, and another is a (shameshameshameshame) Harry/Edward Twilight crossover (shameshameshameshameshame).

There were two anonymous reviews that I wanted to thank people for—they were excellent comments!

Thirteenth to Fifth

Incriminating Silence

Harry shoved everything into his worn bag and ran down the staircase to the first floor of the school. Before heading to meet Draco near the office he swerved into the bathroom, setting his bag down on the bench and quickly relieving himself before washing his hands and then pausing to look at himself in the mirror. He looked...the same as he had this morning, although there was a rather annoying and ever-present blush on his cheeks now. He absently noted that he didn't like the look of his pale face and red cheeks, but didn't know why he was noticing this now. He kind of blamed it on Draco, actually, because he tended to get really self-conscious when the blonde was around, in a 'does my hair look alright?' way.

Harry shook his head to clear it of the strange thoughts and spun on his heel, grabbing his bag and leaving the bathroom while thinking about his plain, boring, and unhealthy appearance. Fuck it; what did he care?

He had just spotted Draco leaning against the office counter talking with the kid named Blaise when a woman's voice called his name.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry turned to see a round woman with a smiling face poking her head out of the nurse's office. She was dressed in white and there was a clipboard in her hand. Harry mentally groaned, looking back to where Draco and his friends were waiting for him.

"Um...yeah?" he asked.

"Could I see you for a few minutes?" she asked, still smiling. The black-haired boy reluctantly nodded.

"Let me just tell my...friends that they shouldn't wait," he said, not waiting for an answer before darting down the hall to come to a stop by Draco side. Both older teen's looked down at him and Harry realized just how tall Blaise was.

"Blaise, this is Harry, the dancer I mentioned," Draco introduced gracefully. Harry nodded to Blaise—not making eye contact—and then turned back to Draco.

"The nurse needs to see me for a few minutes. I wanted to tell you to go ahead," he said. Blaise nodded as if he was content to leave now, although Draco rolled his eyes.

"Bitch. Blaise, I'll hang with Harry and we'll meet up with you guys in a few," Draco suggested. His friend shrugged, shouldering his backpack and moving away to grab Pansy's elbow and bring her out of the building. Harry saw a few others follow them, the group chatting and laughing. "So, nurse?" Draco confirmed.

"Yeah," Harry bit out, his lips upturned in an unhappy sneer. Draco snorted at his reaction but prodded him back up the hall nevertheless.

"I'll wait outside," Draco told Harry as the black-haired boy slipped into the office.

"Got that sorted out with your friends, then?" the nurse asked when she saw him enter, setting her clipboard down. Harry shut the door, not answering her question. "Well, I'm Madame Pomfrey, the head nurse here. I believe you met Madame Hooch on Monday?" Harry shrugged. "She made a few observations that I feel the need to check with you about," Pomfrey continued cheerfully as Harry's blank face slowly turned angry.

"She thinks I have an eating disorder," Harry stated flatly. Madame Pomfrey looked up in surprise, but nodded.

"Yes, actually," she said slowly. Harry crossed his arms and glared.

"Well, I don't, okay?"

"Nevertheless, you weight eighty-nine pounds, which is a problematic weight for anyone, let alone a serious dancer," she continued. Harry's glare deepened.

"Yeah, that might have been mentioned," he snapped. "I'm supposed to gain ten pounds within the month."

"And do you see any problems with achieving this goal?" the nurse asked gently.

"No!" Yes.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I mean yes. Yes, I'm sure," Harry lied. Madame Pomfrey nodded, sitting down in her chair and gesturing for Harry to do the same. He remained standing.

"Harry, eating disorders are not uncommon here at this school. It's nothing you have to hide or be ashamed of. We have a well-trained staff to help you as much as possible, but you must let us do so in order to make any progress," she explained slowly.

"Look, I told you and the Hooch woman that I don't have a fucking eating disorder! I don't!" Harry yelled.

"Then kindly explain your weight," the nurse asked.

"I can't eat because—" Harry stopped, choking down the rest of his sentence.

"Go on," Madame Pomfrey encouraged.

"I can't tell you and you can't make me," Harry said childishly, turning away from her. The round woman cracked a small smile.

"I see that, Mr. Potter," she commented with a nod, "Still, until you offer an alternative—to any staff member here at the school—I am obligated to help you gain weight. If you can not, or will not, then you'll be sent to counseling. If it progresses enough to become dangerous to you as a dancer, you will be removed from talent classes until you are well. Do you understand?" She asked. Harry nodded, still glaring.

"That it?" he snapped.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, that will be all for today. Perhaps you'll see me in a week?"

"N—"

"Excellent. I will remind you, of course," she said. Harry resisted the urge to start yelling again and walked out of the room, slamming the door violently behind him. He made it halfway to the school's front door before remembering that Draco had been waiting for him. Harry spun around to see a highly amused blonde smirking at him, lounged comfortably on the chair he was sitting in. Draco slowly stood and Harry waited with his eyes on the floor until Draco came to his side.

"Should I even ask?" he asked. Harry shook his head.

"Ya know, I think I might just go home...I'm not really—"

"It couldn't have been that bad!" Draco said, leading Harry towards the door. "Come on, what happened?"

"Just...stuff. She was just confirming things, I guess," Harry answered.

"How about we grab something to drink and then take a walk in the park. You can tell me about it," Draco offered.

"No, you should hang out with your friends. I don't want to—"

"Impose, yeah yeah," Draco finished for him, rolling his grey eyes. "I don't offer things if I don't want to do them. I'll buy you a coffee, and then we can head down to the park, okay?" he asked. Harry blushed as he nodded, it wasn't as if Draco was giving him much of a choice. "Great," Draco finished, holding the door open for Harry and following the dark-haired boy out of the school. The two walked side-by-side in silence until Draco pointed to a small to-go coffee shop. "So what would you like?"

"Oh, a latte would be fine," Harry answered softly. "Thanks, Draco." The blonde just smiled at him.

Ten minutes later the two boys were walking down the paved paths of the downtown park, both sipping coffees and holding their jackets closer to ward off the chill in the air.

"So...what's with the whole nurse thing?" Draco asked after several more minutes. He had a pretty good idea what was going on in the first place, but he was interested in hearing Harry's side of the story. The black-haired boy shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Uh...do you think I'm anorexic? Or bulimic or whatever?" Harry asked, his voice shy and his eyes staring at his feet, as always.

"I couldn't say. You're skinny enough," Draco pointed out. Harry nodded.

"Yeah. The nurse thinks I'm anorexic, and wants me to gain ten pounds in the next month."

"Well, you wanna know what she's going to be doing during that month?" Draco asked. "Watching you during lunch. That's what Pomfrey does for all the kids with eating disorders. Then, if you fail her test...you get set to Mr. Black. Although right now I'd say that you're bulimic, because a lot of anorexic kids I knew had problems drinking coffee. They would go for tea or just water. So I don't really think you're anorexic," Draco commented. Harry let himself smile a bit.

"Well, I'm not bulimic either. I hate throwing up," he said. "I'm just skinny."

"Yeah, but it doesn't look like you're naturally that skinny," Draco mentioned.

"I know. So I guess I'll just have to gain ten pounds...and that's...doable...I guess."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Draco asked. Harry didn't answer. "So that's why Pomfrey thinks you're anorexic."

"Let's talk about something else, okay?" Harry broke in suddenly, forcing a smile on his face and looking at Draco's face for a moment. The blonde shrugged, pretending to ignore Harry's sudden change of tone.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" The black-haired teen shrugged.

"Uh...I dunno. How about you? Why'd you start violin?"

"My mother made me, actually. I started on the piano but hated it, and she's always wanted me to be musical, so she brought me to the violin shop—it's her favorite instrument—and let me pick one out. Honestly, my father wants me to be a businessman and take over his company one day, but I already have a music scholarship into several different Ivy League schools. It was him who decided if I was going to play the violin I should be good at it—he's always thought it was a sissy instrument for girls to play," Draco said with a smirk. Harry snorted.

"Yeah? You should hear what my uncle thinks about dance," he exclaimed dryly. Draco laughed.

"It's kind of weird how most kids at Hogwarts only have one supportive parent," the blonde commented.

"Hogwarts?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh, it's what everyone calls the School of the Arts. I'm surprised you haven't heard it before now."

"Why 'Hogwarts'? That's a really...odd name," Harry commented. Draco shrugged.

"I'm not sure, actually. I think it has something to do with the first four founders of the school. You know, it used to be completely different. There were four houses: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Slytherin was for instrumentalists, Gryffindor was for dancers, Hufflepuff was for actors, and Ravenclaw was for visual artists. At some point visual art was cut out of the curriculum, and the houses began loosing their meaning. Now it's just interesting history," Draco explained.

"That's cool," Harry said, smiling to himself.

"Yeah. I kind of wish the houses hadn't been wiped out: it would have been a lot of fun. But I guess it was easier to do that back then because everyone boarded in the school, and now only about three quarters of the kids board there," the blonde mused. Harry's head snapped up.

"School of the Arts is a boarding school?" he asked. Draco looked down at him, nodding.

"Of course. Boarding is only offered to the kids who aren't from around here, though. My best friend, Blaise, is from Chicago and he lives in the dorms."

"Where are they?" Harry asked, an idea popping into his head.

"About three blocks away from the school, on E street. It used to be a small hotel back in the...twenties, I think, but now the school owns it. About one hundred and fifty kids stay there."

"Are all those kids from other cities?"

"I think; I've never heard of anyone from here boarding, so probably," Draco answered, looking ahead although keeping an eye on Harry peripherally. Something was a little...strange about his behavior, now that Draco was thinking about it. Why was he so interested in the dorms? But Harry just nodded at his answer and stopped asking questions. "So...have you lived here your whole life?" Draco asked.

"Pretty much. My parents moved here when I was about one, and since I was two I've lived with my Uncle."

"What happened to your parents?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Died. Car accident. It's how I got this scar." Harry pushed his bangs aside and Draco got a good look at a lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's pale forehead.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. Harry shrugged, letting his bangs fall over the scar again.

"Naw," he continued, "i's not like I can remember them that much. So, what about you?" Harry asked tactfully. "You been here for your whole life?"

"No. My dad moved his company headquarters to here when I was seven. I used to live in Boston. My mom still works there on and off; lately it's been more 'off'," Draco replied.

"What does your mom do?" Harry wondered.

"Fashion design. It's really just for fun, though; she enjoys doing it. Plus, she can design at home and then whenever there's an opening or something she'll fly down there. Actually, she leaves in about a week for the opening of the fall line," Draco said. Harry nodded, not knowing anything about the fashion industry and thus not really taking interest in what Draco was saying. "What about your uncle?" Harry froze.

"Uh...like, what he does?" he asked, his voice a bit tense. Draco nodded. "Oh, um...he...he manages a branch of this tool company, Grunnings," Harry answered. Of course, Vernon no longer had a job, but he used to manage a part of Grunnings, so Harry figured that was the next best answer.

"Fascinating," Draco announced sarcastically, making Harry laugh brightly for the first time today.

"Tell me about it," Harry commented. Ahead of them lay the center of the park, decorated with an ornate fountain, the bottom glittering with coins. Harry had childhood memories of him and Ron coming in the middle of the night and hauling as many quarters out of there as possible before the cops came. He smiled staring at the rippling water. Draco sat down on the edge of the fountain, also staring at the coins at the bottom. Around them park lights began flickering on in the growing darkness, their buzz thrumming throughout the park. Draco looked at his watch.

"I should be getting home to practice," He said. "Are you sure you don't want a ride?" Harry shook his head. There was no way he was going to let a kid as obviously rich as Draco find out just how poor he was. Plus, thirteenth district kids didn't exactly have good reputations. Despite Draco rather cocky and arrogant attitude—which had been absent for the last half hour or so—Harry liked the blond.

"No, I'll be fine. Uh...thanks for the coffee, I appreciate it," Harry said, throwing his cup into a nearby trash can. Draco smiled at him.

"Let's make it a Wednesday thing. You come for coffee with me after school every Wednesday, unless one of us is tied up with something school related," the blonde said. Harry paused, considering.

"Um...sure. Sounds great!" It was, after all, a free cup of coffee. He wasn't going to refuse.

"Good." The two began re-tracing their steps until they left the park. Harry stopped at the nearest bus stop and waved to Draco with another smile.

"See ya tomorrow," he called. Draco gave him a wink before turning his back and walking away with his graceful stride. Harry sighed and sat down on the bench, wrapping his arms around him and shivering a bit. It was getting cold fast.

Vernon greeted Harry with a menacing glare when the skinny boy stepped on light feet into the apartment. Without a word Harry slid into his closet room and set his bag down. He unpacked his dance stuff and laid it on the floor so it could breathe a bit and his sweaty shoes could dry, and he took his homework out and moved with it to the bed, reaching for a pencil. He heard Vernon rummaging through the fridge and then go back into his room and turn the TV on. Noise carried straight through the wall but Harry just shook his head, blocking the violent noises with practiced ease as he went over his chemistry work for the night.

This was the first time he had actually tried to do his homework. At the Hell Hole homework hadn't mattered. Teachers didn't look at it, and your grades only reflected how much profanity you used or how many insults you yelled out in class. The higher grades, meaning there were few insults, normally went hand-in-hand with lots of bruises from the kids with low grades. As his pencil flew over the pages of review work, Harry wondered how Ron's first day of school was. He wondered if Ron even went. Last year the two had skipped the first week together, along with Fred and George. All four of them had received in-school detention, and a fierce reprimand from Molly Weasley. Vernon just beat the shit out of Harry when he found out, although Harry didn't think the beating really had anything to do with missing school.

Smiling at the memory, and not knowing why, Harry continued with the monotony of his work until Vernon starting yelling for dinner. The black-haired boy quickly answered his last algebra question and put his homework back in his backpack, completed.

"Fucking now, bitch!" Vernon roared, spurring Harry to burst out of his room.

"Shut up! I'm working on it!" He was careful not to swear at his uncle, and not to put too much malice in his voice. He couldn't afford another beating now, not when he was dancing everyday. Not when his muscles were already sore and tight. Remembering Madam Pomfrey's warning, Harry made an extra sandwich so he could have a normal portion of dinner. It was risky, and directly clashed with the idea not to get hit tonight or for the rest of the week, but he refused to be sent to...Mr. Black, or whatever his name was.

Harry dished up a plate for Vernon and took it into his uncle's room, setting it on the small table and leaving without a word. His own meal was put in a sandwich bag as Harry went to his room to grab a sweatshirt. He put his light windbreaker over it, shoved his food into the pocket, grabbed his skateboard and left the apartment, heading for the Weasley's bakery. The streetlights no longer worked on his street, or any street near it. Most of the bulbs had been smashed by well-aimed rocks and a plethora of other objects, and the few bulbs that were physically intact flickered due to unsolved wiring problems. The result was a constant strobe effect, throwing shadows around while at the same time chasing them away. Harry immediately pulled the knife he carried in his jacket pocket into his right hand, his green eyes piercing through the darkness for a sign of an attacker. He shouldn't be out here. This was really dangerous.

Harry let out a breath of relief as the murmur of voices from the main street reached his ears and the street lights stopped flickering to shine a steady orange on the people going about their illegal activities. He skated to the back door of the shop and knocked on the door lightly, clutching his skateboard in one hand. Aurthur answered it, first opening it just enough to peek through the crack and recognize Harry before opening the door wider.

"Harry, come on in, kiddo!" he said with a smile. Harry nodded his head in thanks, setting his board down in it's customary spot right inside. He found that Ginny was the only Weasley child around at the moment as the boys were off with Dean and Seamus. The black-haired teen fought down his disappointment and went upstairs to see Ginny. The red-haired girl was sitting on the floor in her room, homework spread in front of her. She looked up with a bright smile as Harry entered the room.

"Harry! How was your first day of school?" she asked eagerly. Harry shrugged.

"So-so. It's a lot of work; I'm already sore," he answered vaguely, sitting down and pulling his pre-prepared dinner from his pocket. Ginny nodded her head in sympathy. "How was your day?" Harry asked out of politeness.

"Shitty. Waste of time. Boring. Yeah," she said flatly. "Ron only went for the first three periods—he skipped out after lunch."

"Does Molly know?"

"Of course not."

"So what's Ron doing right now?"

"Oh, the usual," Ginny answered, writing something down on her paper. "They're out with the gang getting ice cream; I hung around to help clean up the shop. Plus, Cho said she couldn't make it and I didn't want to hang with all the guys without her there." She grinned. Harry took a bit from his plain sandwich, feeling horribly left out. Every year the group went out for ice cream after the first day of school; this was the first time Harry hadn't been with them. He finished his sandwich in silence, simply watching Ginny fill out her homework.

"You wouldn't happen to know if Ron is still mad at me, would you?" Harry asked quietly as Ginny shoved her homework into her worn backpack.

"You know Ron, Harry. He can never stay angry at you for long. I mean, he's confused as hell about you...but then again, I think we all kind of are," she said, looking back up and making eye contact with him. Harry looked away. "He's learned to accept that you're different from him, but it doesn't mean he understands the whole thing," she continued after a moment of awkward silence. "You know, instead of moping about here, you could go catch up to them at the ice cream place. They're probably still there." Harry's head snapped up.

"You think?" Ginny laughed, grabbing a coat on the floor near her and standing up.

"Sure. I'll come with you. Ice cream sounds kind of nice right now." Harry finished his sandwich and stood up, smiling. The two tramped down the stairs, Harry grabbed his skateboard, and they left side by side. The ice cream place, nicknamed 'iScream' by the frequenters of the shop, was about five blocks away from the Weasley's. It was small, shabby, the owners were bitchy, and the ice cream sucked, but it was still a favorite place for anyone with a bit of extra money in their pockets. Ginny jogged after Harry and the two made good time, effectively warding off the chill in the air with their strong pace. Like Ginny said, Ron, Fred, George, Seamus, and Dean were still there. All five looked up with smiles when Harry and Ginny entered the shop.

"Harry! Glad you showed up, man, this isn't the same without you here," Ron said, patting Harry on the back as the black-haired teen sat down. Seamus shoved a half-eaten ice cream cone into his hand, making vague motions that he could finish it. As always, Seamus didn't look entirely sober, and the two boys shared a look before Harry tore his gaze from the young junkie. Ginny joined the group after buying ice cream for herself.

"So...tell us about your day at rich-kid central," Dean asked. Harry raised his eyebrows at the boy.

"Who told Dean that I was going there?" he asked, looking around to the rest of his friends. Ron looked slightly guilty.

"Well, c'mon! It's Dean, you couldn't have kept it from him anyway," the redhead reasoned. Harry just shrugged. It was true that keeping the information from Dean wouldn't have worked. Dean, and Seamus for that matter, hung around with them all the time. And Harry's absence from the Hell-Hole would be missed after a week or so.

"It's fine, Ron. I just really, really can't have Vernon find out."

"You're trying to keep that kind of info from your uncle? He doesn't know?" Dead asked incredulously. Harry bit his lip and nodded.

"Pretty much. He kinda said he wouldn't let me go...and...yeah. It's not as if I'm gonna give a scholarship like that up just because he told me to, though. So I'm going, and fuck him," the black-haired boy said firmly. The group smiled.

"Good attitude, Harry. Anyway, how was your first day?" George asked.

"It was...good. I'm really sore though; dancing several hours per day is kinda taxing. The teachers are amazing—like, they actually seem to care—and the kids are nice, for the most part," Harry looked away from the twin's doubtful stare, "The relationship the students have with each other is so different. There really aren't any designated groups...everyone's friends with everyone. I mean, the really rich kids hang together kind of a lot, I guess, but the kids I sat with at lunch were all so different...and yet they're great friends," Harry said. The kids sitting around him looked confused.

"Does that even work? Like, with hanging out with kids who aren't similar to you?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head, a grin on his face.

"That's the thing, you don't have to hang out with kids who are like you! You can hang out with anyone!" he exclaimed.

"And they don't beat the shit out of you?" Dean asked. Harry smirked.

"No. How awesome is that?" Fred looked thoughtful.

"I would think that would make it hard to find your niche at school, though. With groups you always know where you'll fit in, and at the art school if there are no groups....then how do—"

"You don't need to fit in," Harry broke in. "There are so many types of kids there...everyone just kind of meshes together and makes one big group. Like, the artsy group. That's what all two hundred kids make up."

"That's unfathomable," Ginny stated, and the boys agreed.

"That's weird," Seamus commented. Harry just smiled at them.

"It's awesome," he stated, his smile widening.

"Well, if anyone gives you a hard time, let us know and we'll beat the fuck out of 'em," Ron said with a scowl.

"Oh yeah, that would go over real well," Harry commented sarcastically. Dean snorted.

"Bunch of pussies."

"So...how was your guys' day?" Harry asked, steering the topic away from him and the School of the Arts. George grinned.

"You would not believe what we did..." Harry smiled in anticipation, absentmindedly licking Seamus' ice cream and thinking how nice it was to be back among familiar people after his first day of school.

Thanks for reading. Please let me hear (read) your thoughts on the story!

Wykkyd