A/N: Happy summer vacation!

Yours forever, Tsona

The following day was Sunday. Others- Zabini included- used the day off to sleep in, so Draco crept out of the room not long after waking and found the common room empty and dim. A house-elf had swept the ashes and piled new logs on the iron grate of the fireplace. Draco set them alight with a quick spell before turning to pull one of the wing-backed chairs nearer the hearth. The air of the dungeon was damp and cool after the nighttime lull and he was glad of the warmth, as he sat, that seeped from the flames, painting his pale hands with an orange glow.

Alana had touched those hands last night, when they had been blue from the moonlight. Those same hands that she had held had held her. He turned them over. They looked no different than they ever had- and maybe they weren't. Those same hands, Draco reminded himself, had also held his wand last night- his wand, with which he had fought Boor. "Too cowardly to try anything worse, Malfoy? Prove to me the Dark Lord was right to see something in you. Prove you're a threat. And when I have the information I need, I'm going to call-"

But Dumbledore had called him heroic. Heroic. It wasn't a word Draco had ever tried, ever even considered applying to himself. Who would call a Slytherin heroic? That was a word for Gryffindors like Potter. So much less a Slytherin with his past. A fallen Slytherin, made the Dark Lord's pet, who then had made so many mistakes that he had been expelled by him, and expelled by the rest of the House for it. The Dark Lord, Slytherin's heir indeed.

That only brought Draco back to Boor. How long would it be before word spread that they had dueled? What would Dumbledore do to Boor? What would he do to Draco? How much longer would it take till Boor told everyone what he, Draco Malfoy, had been doing? where he had been? and with whom?

Draco expected to feel his stomach squirm at the thoughts of the Slytherins' reactions. He knew that they would laugh and sneer. He would be labeled a "blood-traitor," but was that any worse than the traitor he already was? More, he found, he worried how she would react. The Slytherins would not leave Alana spotless, nameless either. What they would call her, he didn't know, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. "Siren." "Niffler." "Fool." But so long as she didn't mind, so long as she would bear it, would not push him away to escape it-

"Do you want me?"

"Yes."

"Then," she had said, "you're the one I want."

If only he could believe it would be that simple. But love- love- What did he know of love? How could he hold on to her if that's what she wanted?

"I'm just afraid I'll hurt you." That was true enough. He sighed, rubbing his hands together.

"Callous?"

Draco looked up and around the chair. One of the other Slytherin boys was up now and was peering into the common room from the hallway toward the dorms. Draco thought he was probably a sixth-year, one of Boor's dorm-mates. The boy leaned back against the stone wall with a leer when Draco turned toward him. "Oh," he said. "It's you." Then, without another word, he turned, and Draco breathed a soft sigh. At least he hadn't been questioned. It was worth facing that kind of revulsion if he didn't have to reveal what he'd done. Maybe Alana would agree. Did she sleep in?

Draco was to be found not an hour later climbing the steps from the dungeon. As people had begun to come into the common room- some still groggy with sleep, stumbling about in pajamas, others dressed and primped, heading toward breakfast or an hour of work or pleasure with bright eyes- he'd grown more and more anxious to leave. And yet he didn't want to eat alone, didn't want to miss her. He felt that, after last night, she would expect him, would be disappointed if she couldn't find him. Athene had certainly attached herself to him- at least when the late night hours came, as the fire was dying and the common room was emptying.

He shook his head, trying to quell the smile that still came to his lips. It would be best not to compare the two, he was beginning to think. Alana felt- different. He recalled Athene's kisses as flashes of fire, hot from the first, consuming him, and then pulling quickly away. Alana lingered. The fire of Alana's kiss crept along the edge of a piece of parchment. It warmed him from the lips downward, like the first sip of butterbeer after hours in the swirling snow. He had a hard time letting go of her.

With his mind employed, his feet carried him up the familiar passages and stairs, but he noticed little until he heard his name.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He stopped, shook his head, and looked around at Professor Snape, who stood behind him in the hallway and whose dark eyes were already fixing on Draco's, were beginning to stare deeper than the surface as only Snape and perhaps Dumbledore could- the Dark Lord didn't seem to need eye-contact. Draco turned his gaze downward, hoping to hide his wayward thoughts. "Professor," he said in greeting.

The silence stretched between them and still Snape did not release Draco from his gaze, while Draco's thoughts flitted away from Alana to ponder why Snape might be subjecting him to such a scrutiny. He remembered Boor's sneer as he advanced slowly, wand steady, the frantic jet of red, and then the sneer crumpling. Snape of course would have had to have been told. Boor was his student, in his House. Over this thought came Snape's command, "Come with me."

"Why?" The question broke from Draco at a higher octave than he had anticipated and he threw his gaze downward to avoid the smirk he expected from his Head of House. Draco wasn't sure he wanted to give evidence against Boor. He didn't want to know what Boor would do to him if-

Snape let out a short, annoyed breath. "It is the headmaster's privilege," he said brusquely, "to appoint the prefects, Mr. Malfoy, not mine. Callous Boor is a natural leader." His voice dropped, "I only wish we had known then where he would lead the others."

To the Dark Lord. Draco frowned. "You were there too, sir," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

The pause was sharp and the air seemed to grow heavy with Snape's sudden anger. "Here," he said, "is hardly the place to discuss that."

Draco met his gaze with a glare. Draco had to talk about it. Everyone talked about it around him. He noticed that the Potion master was looking much less impressive, his dark eyes darting sideways, his head bowed. "Where would you like to discuss it, sir?"

Snape's eyes flashed back onto him. "My office, Malfoy. Now." Snape turned and sailed down the stairs before Draco, who followed him a sulky silence, though it was not at all the response he had expected.

When Snape had shut the door behind Draco, he swept around him to settle into the chair behind the desk. He motioned Draco toward the straight-backed, wooden chair on the opposite side and watched Draco with narrowed eyes and steepled sallow fingers.

"I did not realize you were bitter."

"I'm not bitter," Draco lied automatically, throwing his gaze downward into a dark corner of the office.

"You are. But I fail to see what I have done to deserve it. After all, it was I who got you out."

Draco let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You didn't. I got myself out. You refused to help me, remember?"

Snape's mouth curved upward. "But who gave you your signal? Who allowed himself to be cursed?"

Draco remembered the quiet voice in his head: Now, Draco. He had thought then it had been the odd power that the Dark Lord had awoken in him speaking, the thing that felt like a dragon inside of him. Later, with a clearer head, he had thought of adrenaline and instincts. But Snape...? "Sir," he said now without hostility, "whose side are you on? If that was you...?" Once before he had come near asking the Potion's master that question, but Snape had avoided answering.

Snape was still smiling when he said, "Can't I just be working for your survival?"

Draco raised his eyes to meet the professor's, sticking out a pointed chin. "I want to know."

Snape held his gaze for several moments, then with a sigh, reached into his robes. Draco had to control the impulse to flinch as he raised his wand- would Snape punish him for overstepping his bounds? But Snape merely swung the wand through the air. Draco didn't think anything had happened, but Snape put his wand down on the desktop. As Draco looked around the room for something that had changed, even minutely, Snape explained, "Merely a precaution, Draco. We won't be overheard now."

Draco swung back around to face him. "So you'll tell me?"

Snape shook his head. "No, Draco, I cannot."

"Then why-" Draco began angrily, but Snape held up a hand to stop him.

"I cannot be open with you, Draco," he continued. "I think you know that. Anything I say to you could get back to the Dark Lord. That," Snape said, his black eyes burrowing into Draco's wide ones, "is all I will say on the subject of my loyalties." He allowed Draco to ponder this for several minutes before asking, "Are you happier here?"

Draco tried to hide the smile that jumped onto his lips as he recalled Alana's smile, her dark eyes just before- "Yeah," he said, "I am."

"Then I suppose you need no more advice from me."

"You're not going to tell me off for dueling?"

"No. I think perhaps I will not," Snape smiled. "You seem to know what I am supposed to say, as your Head of House." Snape continued to watch him. "I'm also supposed to tell you, though," he said, "that killing is never an answer."

This jerked Draco from more pleasant thoughts. "What?"

Snape shrugged. "The Headmaster said you would perhaps be well-served by that reminder."

"He thinks I'd-"

"I don't know what he thinks."

"Boor attacked me," Draco reminded.

"I am merely passing on the information. If you have complaints, I'd suggest you make them to the headmaster."

"Yeah," Draco said, "maybe I wi-"

"Draco." Snape's voice took on a sudden note of urgency that made Draco meet his dark gaze again. "It is good advice. And you would do well to remember it."

"But, sir," Draco said, bewildered. "I wouldn't- I couldn't-"

"Remember it, Draco."

Draco, staring, slowly nodded.

"If that is settled, then, I suppose you had best leave."

Just like that? Draco stood nevertheless. Snape didn't move, even as Draco began to back toward the door. It was only after he was through it and had shut the door behind himself that he believed Snape had had his final word.

That, Draco decided quickly, had been a very strange conversation. Killing is never an answer? He knew that. And anyway, he hardly could have used it as one if he had wanted to... that was why he had run. Or that was the bite that made the winged horse buck.

He turned his back on Snape now and began to climb again. He didn't want to have to think about that- any of that. But now he kept remembering his conversations with Snape in flashes: "I- I can't make myself mean it."

"We're alone, Draco. He won't hear you here."

"Take me with you?"

"This isn't something I can help you with."

"With all respect, sir, if you're not going to help me-"

And now the final, quiet words that Snape had said to him on those snowy grounds, had spoken then in his mind: "Now, Draco."

The sound of footsteps pulled Draco from these ruminations. Heavy footsteps coming towards him. He looked up and froze. On the flight above, Boor froze too.

The two stares met in a glare.

"Malfoy," Boor hissed, breaking the tense silence.

"Out of the hospital wing?" Draco shot.

"There was nothing wrong with me." Boor leered, "Thanks to you." He took a few more steps down, toward Draco. Draco tensed but did not move, merely continued to glare. "You should have hurt me," Boor said.

"What would that have done?"

"I'm going to get you back, Malfoy."

"I'd say that makes you a pretty poor loser."

"It was a lucky shot. Next time-"

Draco looked around. Some ways down, he guessed, Snape was still in his office, perhaps still sitting quietly in his chair, but otherwise the hallway was deserted. "There's no one here now. You want to-"

Draco felt something warm slip over him like shower water, clearing his mind, washing away the flickers of fear, the anxieties, the doubts. He looked up. A fine mist seemed to be covering his vision. Boor was grinning and his wand was out. Draco remembered himself and tried to reach for his too, but his arm wouldn't move. His fingers wouldn't move. He tried to look down at them, wanted to drop his jaw in surprise but-

"You shouldn't have looked away, Malfoy."

Boor.

"Do you like the Imperius? God, I can't wait to tell him. He's been on me to try for a while now."

Boor looked up at him, smiled more broadly. "The Dark Lord, I mean," he said as if he had read Draco's worst flash of insight. If he was Boor's prisoner than he was also the-

"Well, come on. I've changed my mind. I don't feel near as sulky now. We're going to breakfast. And-" Boor smiled wickedly "-I think you'll be sitting with your little girlfriend."

He turned and Draco, despite his every effort to remain still, to turn the other direction, anything! followed him. Like a whipped dog, Draco thought. Like a bichon frisé. And he couldn't even hang his head.

Boor marched before him to the Great Hall and did not pause as he made his way to the Slytherin table, where his friends greeted him and quickly put their heads together. Draco noticed that their gazes slid toward him as he stood in the doorway, but could not move, could not look away- until his body turned and he began to make his way toward Gryffindor. He would have dug his heels into the flagged floor, grabbed onto the doorjamb if he could have. Whatever purpose Boor had in sending him to find Alana, it could only be malicious.

She was sitting midway down the table, her head bent together with Kari's. He could see her bright smile through the haze across his vision. Kari was smiling too. They both looked up at him as he approached. Neither smile faded.

Draco felt himself sliding down onto the bench on Alana's other side. He could hardly feel her though their legs brushed one another. It was as though cold water separated them, made him numb. He wanted to reach out to grab her, to shake her, to get her to help, but he only sat there, looking at his hands limp in his lap.

Alana leaned toward him and her lips brushed against his face, but there was none of the fire of the night before. He was too numb. He wanted to see what Boor was up to, wanted to look over his shoulder. He knew he would see his gloating face- or would if Boor were paying him anymore than the most cursory attention. He would have liked to have looked at Alana and smiled, but his gaze remained downturned.

"Draco? Are you all right?"

If he could have shaken his head-

"Kari and I are friends again," she told him. Worry kept her voice low, soft, without any of the brightness he loved.

He couldn't even nod to let her know he'd heard.

"Draco?"

"I'm fine." The forced words- forced not by him, but by Boor- seemed flat to his own ears. Would Alana hear too? Could she possibly suspect? She'd probably never seen anyone under the Curse…

Her hand brushed along his forearm, to his hand, then splayed his fingers so that hers could nestle themselves between his. At least, he thought, he could be acted upon. But he knew his fingers didn't close on hers with the tightness, the reassurance she sought, she hoped for. There was a frown on her face when she leaned toward him and said in a voice that was barely audible, seemed grating for its quaver, its trepidation. "Draco? Is this about last night?"

Which part of last night? The kissing or- "Yes," the hollow voice answered. Not a lie. Not really.

Alana looked away from him, back toward Kari. Then her gaze returned to his, their cheeks nearly touching. "Is it-" he wanted to shut his eyes against the fear that made her voice tremble "-something I did?"

Deny it, Draco pleaded. Please. But Boor conjured a cold, "Yes."

"But-" now her voice rose a little and still Draco didn't look at her "-last night you said- You said I hadn't overstepped my bounds. You came toward me. I only reacted. I-"

Draco felt his shoulders rise in a shrug. And he knew- and he knew Alana knew too: He had pulled back. He had run. The power of that kiss had scared him. It would be easy for her to reach the conclusion that he didn't-

"I'm sorry," she continued. She had moved away from him now and her voice was louder, nearer a wail, keening. "I'm sorry, Draco. I thought-"

Again his lips were pried open. "You thought wrong," came that drone. "I don't want you. What would I do with a blood-traitor like you?" Draco, locked inside himself, flinched. The word was like the flick of a whip's tip. Never had it seemed so cruel. This morning he had thought he would hear the Slytherins insult her, but-

She jerked back, as violently as he had last night, with a gasp. Her hand flew from his, leaving his empty, cold. Draco watched her, but could not raise his gaze to meet hers. Boor wasn't letting him. He knew she might notice something, might suspect if she could see his eyes. Maybe.

"Draco- Draco, I-"

He was surprised to hear Kari's voice- or he thought it was Kari's- cut across her friend's stammer. "Alana-"

"He said he wanted me, Kari! He told me- Wait. No. He never did tell me he loved me," she realized. "Not really. Just- just- Draco! You didn't!"

Didn't what? What didn't I do?

"How could you use- after all I did for-"

"Alana, what did you do?" Kari gasped.

His head was forced up then and he thought for one moment he might be able to look at her, to tell her somehow, to let her see it wasn't true. But her head was turned away. Kari had grabbed her arm, horror painted across her face. Draco's eyes went to Alana though. Even with only the most marginal bit of her face visible behind the swath of her hair, which even now caught flecks of the sunlight, let them play there, he could see her pain. Were tears making her eyes seem brighter? Her cheeks were red. Her mouth was turned sharply downward as she screeched, "Let me go, Kari. Oh! Just let me go. Nothing. We didn't do anything. Not like-"

Draco's lips were forced open again and the words torn from him. "No. We didn't. I wouldn't. I wouldn't sully myself."

Kari's eyes widened and fastened for a moment on Draco's. We didn't, he thought at her desperately. We didn't, but oh God! that's not why-

Alana broke from Kari's slackened grip, leapt from the bench, and tore out of the hall, her hair flying, and her hands over her face. Draco was made to watch her, even as he felt Kari's eyes still on him. His gaze, on the way back to Kari's, passed over Boor, saw his leer, his glittering eyes.

Kari's eyes were still wide when he met their fierce gray stare. "You saved my life last night," she said quietly. "But if you break her heart-" She sighed, "I'm going after her," and got up from the table too to hurry after her friend.

Draco thought the torment might end with that. What more could Boor do to him here? now? He felt his neck being craned around and recognized the cloud of red hair. Ginerva Weasley covered the distance to him in a few furious strides, drew back her hand and-

His head flew sideways with the force of the blow to his cheek. He blinked and the pain spiked and for a moment he was-

The cloud of warmth again flooded his mind, sweeping away the sting, sweeping away the momentary rush of relief. He had been himself, if only for a few seconds. The pain had given him back his mind, his freedom. Even as Boor forced him to turn stony eyes on Weasley, he began to think.

"What did you do?" Weasley demanded.

Draco felt a smirk pulling at his lips. He opened his mouth to-

"No," Weasley cut across him. "Forget it. I'll go ask her myself. I don't need your lies." Then she too fled.

If Draco could have, he'd have turned to smirk then at Boor. He hadn't damaged himself further. If anything, it sounded as though Weasley was about to repair the breach between her and Alana. Trust a Weasley to foil any plot. And better still, he had a weapon now. He thought he knew how he could fight.

With everyone who might possibly defend him gone from the table, even Boor seemed to realize that Draco couldn't remain with the Gryffindors. Beneath their pointed glares, he stood and followed the girls. Draco thought he ought to hang his head, but Boor kept him looking forward, walking swiftly. Unashamed, Draco realized. He wants them all to think I wanted to hurt her.

Boor joined him in the entrance hall not long afterward; the girls were no where in sight. He smirked, then twitched his wand, and Draco followed him serenely down the stairs into the dungeons. They walked the familiar path to the sliding wall, through the common room, and down the hallway toward the boys' dorms. Draco was surprised when they passed the sixth year boys' room. He had thought Boor might be taking him to his own dorm. His friends surely must know what Boor was, whom he worked for?

"We're going to your room," Boor told him then.

His room? Why?

"No one really will bother with you being there, I don't expect. Do you have things you ought to be doing?" Boor asked, looking at him over his shoulder. "Oh," he said then. "I forgot." He smirked, "You can't tell me."

No, you git, I can't.

Boor pushed open the door to Draco's room. "Out," he said.

"It's my dorm," came Zabini's whine from inside the room.

"Malfoy and I need it. And you ought to go get breakfast, oughtn't you?"

There was a pause. "Why?" Zabini sounded suspicious.

"Because breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Boor recited sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"No. Why do you need the room?"

Put it together, Zabini. Guess. Tell someone. Please.

Draco felt his jaw wrenched open again, "Do as he says, Zabini." Draco's feet took him a few inches forward so he could see around the jambs.

Zabini's eyes traveled from Draco to Boor and back. "You don't even like each other," he pointed out.

"Zabini," Draco said, his voice booming with threat. Threat? Zabini wasn't worth all that. "Out."

Zabini stood slowly from the bed. "How long do you need me gone?"

"Not long." Boor answered this time. "Give us... half an hour."

What did Boor want to do that would only take a half an hour? Avada Kedavra, Draco realized then with a flash of fear, only took a matter of seconds, particularly when Draco couldn't fight. Boor could kill him and do away with the body in a half an hour. But why go through all the trouble to keep him beneath the Imperius then? And why have him hurt Alana as his last act? Was this all some elaborate plot to fake a suicide? Draco would have to be in his own room for that too...

Zabini crept toward the door, holding a book pressed against his chest. "I'm not going far," he said as he paused before the two of them. He was taller than Draco, his nose on level with Boor's square jaw.

"You don't have to," Boor told him.

So whatever Boor was plotting was something relatively quiet...

"Now out," Boor added, and Zabini hurried past the two of them and down the torchlit hallway. Boor let Draco watch him. Zabini looked over his shoulder at Draco as he fled and his gaze was piercing. When Zabini had gone around a corner, Boor pushed Draco over the threshold and slammed the door shut behind him. He raised his wand and Draco wanted to flinch, to shut his eyes, expecting the two words and the flash of emerald light. Instead he heard, "Muffliato," a spell that seemed to Draco as useless as Snape's had earlier.

Boor muttered, "Now that nosy git can't overhear us even if he's outside the door." His eyes darted toward it, before returning to Draco. He seemed nervous... or excited. He licked his lips.

With a flick of Boor's wand, Draco sat on Zabini's bed. Boor was ignoring him otherwise, beginning to roll back the sleeve of his left arm. He had almost revealed the ghastly tongue of his brand when he stopped, and looked up to meet Draco's blank stare. "Wait. Do you- Oh." He walked over, grabbed Draco's arm, and began to tear back his sleeve instead. "He'll respond to your call even quicker, I think," Boor said. "And he'll know I've got you- like he asked. And then I don't have to..."

Draco was glad Boor didn't make him look down at the ugly red tattoo. He watched Boor as he raised his wand, his eyes on the Mark.

Draco let out a howl of pain and his hand leapt to the Mark- leapt there of his own accord. His head was throbbing with the fire that consumed his arm, but it was outside of Boor's control- and Boor realized it, Draco knew, when he let out a sharp oath. The warmth of the spell descended upon him again and numbed the pain, numbed everything. Draco's vision became bleary again. But for a moment, if only for a moment-

"That hurt though, didn't it?" Boor sneered, his wand steady now, needlessly trained on Draco. "It was worth losing you for a moment if it hurt. Particularly when-"

"Ah," came a soft hiss from Draco's left. "Draco. And Boor too."

The corners of Boor's mouth bent, but he bent himself in a low bow to cover the expression. "My lord."

While Boor was still doubled over, the Dark Lord swept toward Draco. His red eyes fastened on Draco's, held his stare a moment before he smiled. "Stand up, Boor."

Boor quickly obeyed.

"You've done well," the Dark Lord said, still watching Draco.

"Thank you, my lord."

Boor hovered behind the Dark Lord. He looked, Draco thought, like a dog waiting for scraps. Draco tried to keep his attention focused on Boor and not the man staring at him. He didn't want to look at him. And Boor didn't seem to be forcing him, however much the Dark Lord's gaze compelled Draco to look back. Draco, even under the Imperius Curse, felt nervous beneath his stare.

It was several minutes before Boor plucked up the courage to interrupt. "My lord?"

"Boor?" he answered without turning.

"Aren't- aren't we going to do something to him?"

The Dark Lord smiled and raised a finger to graze Draco's face. The Imperius kept it from being near as cold, near as hair-raising as it usually was. Draco still wanted to shudder though, out of habit. "No," the Dark Lord hissed. He was very near Draco now, so that all Draco could see were his eyes, like two swirling pools of fire. "No. It is enough of a torture for him to be controlled." At that word the finger crooked and the nail scraped along Draco's flesh so that he wanted to wince. With another twitch of his smile, the Dark Lord pulled away and turned to Boor. "Keep him under the Curse, Boor."

"Yes, my lord."

"For now, control his every movement."

"My lord, can I- can I mess with him some?"

The Dark Lord frowned. "You are sadistic."

"But- but, my lord," Boor tried, hunched in a cower, "wouldn't- wouldn't it be more torturous to him if-"

"A little, Boor. You can mess with him a very little."

"He has a friend."

"A friend?" The Dark Lord turned back to Draco as though for confirmation.

"A girlfriend," Boor elaborated. "From Gryffindor."

The Dark Lord's eyes burned, and his mouth bent in a horrible smile. "What prevents you, my Draco?" Draco would have winced again as the words tumbled from Boor's mouth, but they were worse when the Dark Lord repeated them. "From Gryffindor? Well, that's interesting. Is she close to Harry Potter?"

"I-" Boor fumbled, "I don't know. She's friends with the Weasley girl, so-"

"Interesting," the Dark Lord repeated, still watching Draco.

"Shall I- shall I do something about her, my lord?"

"For now, no."

"They- they fought this morning," Boor admitted, his gaze on the floor.

The Dark Lord frowned, looking at him again. "If she makes a move toward reconciliation, make sure it goes well, Boor. I may need her later."

"Of course, my lord."

"For now, that will do." The Dark Lord gathered up his black robe in a white, bony fist.

"My lord," Boor called, to stop him. "What- what about later? You keep saying 'for-"

"Later," the Dark Lord said, "will come later. This might be a dangerous game, so we proceed cautiously."

He turned then without a sound.

Boor groaned and threw his hands over his face as he sank down onto Draco's bed. Draco merely stared forward blankly, but his thoughts were frantic. How could he warn Alana?

Boor left him not long afterward, having torn through Draco's belongings in search of something to keep him occupied. His eyes were moving across the pages of his Ancient Runes text now, but his brain didn't comprehend any of the letters in any language.

He looked up when the he heard the door open. Zabini stood between the jambs, looking dark and sullen, book in hand. "Can I come in now?" he asked.

Draco felt himself nod.

Zabini walked into the room, stood on the other side of his bed. "Can I ask what that was all about?"

A definite "No" answered him and for once Draco agreed with Boor.

Zabini watched him a moment, then nodded. He went and retrieved A History of Magic from his trunk and sat down with it. Draco turned a page in his book and looked down at more of the meaningless scrawl. He didn't look up from it till- it could have been five minutes or an hour later- Zabini asked, "Are you all right?"

Draco's head turned toward him. "Why? Do I not look it?"

Zabini shrugged and buried his long nose again in the pages of his text.

Boor seemed to think there was no threat because Draco too returned to his book.

Zabini followed when Boor sent Draco to dinner and sat down beside him at the far end of the Slytherin table. As they had entered the room, Boor had sent Draco's eyes along the Gryffindor table. Alana was eating only a little with her head bent low to hide her eyes, but Kari was on one side and Ginerva Weasley on the other. Kari had scanned him sharply as he had walked in.

"You've hardly said a word all day," Zabini pointed out when Draco had spent fifteen minutes spooning little bites of tasteless food into his mouth.

Draco's shoulders rose in a shrug.

"What did you and the girl fight about this morning?"

When Draco didn't answer, Zabini asked even more quietly, "What did you do last night?"

"Nothing so foul as you guess," Draco said sourly. "I wouldn't dare with that piece of filth."

"That's not what you would have said last night, when you were telling me she wasn't like the others, when you-"

"Shut up."

"It just seems like a really sudden change."

Zabini let him eat a little longer in silence.

"Her friend is looking at you now."

Draco wondered which friend Zabini meant, but Boor didn't make him look up. He kept his gaze on the shepherd's pie he forked into his mouth.

Zabini punched his arm- hard. "Don't you want to-"

It was exactly what Draco needed. "A knife," he hissed, once more briefly in control of himself. He wanted to spit it out, before-

"What?" Zabini jerked away, horrified.

"Quick, Zabini. Wrap up a knife and stick it in my pocket. A sharp one."

"What are you-"

"Don't ask questions. Just-" The warmth settled back on him again.

Zabini was staring at him, his eyes sharp with suspicion. Draco went back to eating in silence, his face blank.

"I don't understand."

Draco didn't answer. He had been outside Boor's control. Boor couldn't have heard what had passed between the two of them. He had no response. Which meant he couldn't stop it either. Come on, Zabini.

He felt something knock against his leg.

"You might be mad," Zabini said. "And I'm probably a fool for listening to you. Don't do anything stupid, Malfoy."

A/N: I really have no notes on this chapter. I will talk to you more when I post chapter 11.

Yours forever, Tsona