Chapter Ten

Harry sped away from the Room of Requirement as fast as his legs could possibly take him. There were tears streaming down his face, and he didn't pause to wipe them. He had to get as far from Draco as he could without leaving the castle.

How could he almost kiss Draco? How? Cedric had only been dead a little more than six months, and he was already kissing other people. He was a horrible person. He was disgusting. He was-

"Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm and stopped his pursuit towards the lower levels of the castle. She had been standing near the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, presumably waiting for him to return. She took one look at Harry's face and pulled him close. She wrapped him in her arms and pressed a kiss to his scalp. Harry began to cry into her blouse. "What happened, Harry? Did something happen between you and Draco?" At the mention of Draco's name, Harry only began to cry harder. Hermione took his hand and led him towards an empty room, in case anyone were to pass by. She didn't want to make Harry into a bigger spectacle than he already happened to be.

Hermione helped Harry sit in a desk and she rubbed his back until his cries finally subsided into hiccups. "Harry, what happened?"

"I almost kissed Draco," Harry said quietly. Hermione had to strain to hear him.

"What's so wrong with that?" she wondered. Harry banged his head against the desk once.

"Because it makes me an awful person, 'Mione." Hermione almost scoffed. Harry was the least awful person she knew. "Cedric hasn't been dead for more than six months and I'm already kissing other boys." Everything suddenly clicked into place-the crippling depression after Cedric was killed, the hanging around Malfoy, the aversion to anything that had breasts.

"Harry, you're not a bad person. You're a good person who's just had bad things happen to them," Hermione said, still rubbing circles on Harry's back. "Did you love him?" Harry nodded, his face still pressed against the desk. "You know, if he loved you back as much as I bet he did, he wouldn't honestly care who you were with as long as you were happy. It really doesn't matter that he's only been gone six months, as long as you're happy, Harry. There is no right time to move on; it just happens when it happens. You wouldn't be doing anything wrong by being with Draco." Harry looked at Hermione. She looked worried.

"Really?" Harry asked quietly. Hermione kissed his forehead.

"Really, Harry. It's okay to move on. Cedric wouldn't want you to be alone for the rest of your life because you can't be with him. You deserve to be happy." The black haired boy hugged Hermione so hard she thought she might snap in half for a moment.

"Thank you so much, Hermione."

ϟϟϟ

Draco stared at the place that Harry had disappeared for several minutes. His eyes had filled with tears and overflowed long ago, but he hadn't made any move to wipe away the tears. Malfoys don't show emotion, but Draco had always thought that rule was absolutely preposterous. How does one not show emotion?

Eventually, Draco got up from his place in the pile of cushions and he began to pace in circles in the Room of Requirement. What had he just done? He had caused Harry to cry. He had caused Harry visible pain. He had probably also completely cocked up their friendship, which he had worked so hard to obtain. Draco shouted at the top of his lungs and kicked one of the brick walls. He felt his big toe snap, and he swore loudly. Just another fucking thing to add to his misery tonight.

He sat down on the floor and took of his shoe and sock. His toe was already beginning to swell. He swore again and aimed his wand at the painful appendage. "Episkey." It snapped back into place and he shouted in pain. He rubbed his toe with his fingers.

Draco finally decided that he would talk to Harry tomorrow about the entire thing. If he couldn't have the relationship he actually wanted with Harry, he would take friendship and no less. He couldn't lose Harry over a silly mistake. Harry meant too much to him.

ϟϟϟ

Sirius Black was pacing back in forth of the fireplace that lay inside of his basement kitchen in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. He was waiting or any news of Arthur Weasley's condition and any news about Harry or the Weasley children. He had been informed that they would be coming to stay with him at the Order Headquarters earlier than the twenty second.

Arthur had been on duty for the Order when he had been attacked by Voldemort's snake, Nagini. Phineas had told Sirius that Harry had seen the entire attack, and that Arthur was being taken to St. Mungo's as soon as possible. Understandably, everyone was very shaken up.

Sirius swore loudly in surprise as the fireplace roared to life and five children came spewing out of it, four of them red-haired, one of them not. Immediately Sirius enveloped Harry in his arms before moving on to hug all of the Weasley children. Everyone was ashen faced.

"Why don't we head someplace more comfortable?" Sirius suggested, grabbing five bottles of butterbeer and a crystal bottle of firewhiskey and a shot glass for himself. He led the children up to the library, where everyone sat down in a chair or on a love seat, took a bottle of drink, and stared off into space. Sirius didn't even try to engage anyone in conversation; he knew that the effort would be futile.

Ginny finally fell asleep, curled up in one of the large green armchairs like a cat, her bottle of butterbeer unopened and forgotten on the floor. George had nodded off, his head lolling back against the chair, but Fred was still wide-eyed, staring at a spot on the wall, his drink clutched so firmly in his hand that his knuckles were white. Harry looked extremely uncomfortable, as if he were intruding on some private mourning session. Ron's eyes were closed, but it was obvious he was awake.

Finally, around six in the morning, Molly Weasley came shuffling into the room, tired as a dog. Everyone sprang up from their seats, faces grim.

"He'll be alright," she said, and there was a collective whooshing sound as everyone released the breath they had been holding. "He just needs to rest now, as do you." Molly shunted everyone off to bed. Sirius finished his firewhiskey.

ϟϟϟ

The cracks on the ceiling were highly interesting, Harry told himself, as he lay on his bed in Sirius' house. They had just gotten back from visiting Mr. Weasley in the hospital. It had been interesting, to say the least. They had run into none other than Gilderoy Lockhart and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom while they were there as well.

A knock sounded on the door, and Harry promptly ignored it, mentally telling whoever it was that they could go stuff themselves. He wasn't here. The door opened anyway, and Sirius popped his head in. Harry scowled at the older man.

"Don't you know what a closed door means?" Harry asked, turning away from his godfather. "It means 'don't enter.'" Sirius sat down at the foot of Harry's bed and patted his godson's leg.

"I know what it means, silly. But I'm not letting you keep yourself cooped up in here all Christmas," Sirius told him.

"What if I want to keep myself all cooped up?"

"Then we're going to have a serious problem on our hands." Sirius chuckled at his pun. Harry rolled his eyes. Harry turned to face the older man.

"I don't belong down there with the rest of them," he said sadly. "I'm the entire reason that Mr. Weasley was attacked. He almost died."

"Harry, Arthur knew what he was doing. He knew what he had signed up for, and if it wasn't for you, he probably would have died, because we wouldn't have seen the attack at all. We wouldn't have known until it was too late." Sirius smiled reassuringly. "You belong down there with your family, Harry. They love you no matter what."

Harry turned his face into his pillow. "I doubt that," he muttered, his words muffled by the feathers. Sirius pulled the pillow from underneath Harry's head and threw it on the floor.

"Now why do you say that?" Sirius asked.

"I have reasons." Sirius groaned loudly.

"Damn teenagers." He poked Harry in the side sharply. "You'll tell your old godfather later, right?"

Harry made a loud noise in response, and Sirius took that as his cue to leave. Once the door had closed, Harry sighed loudly. How would Sirius take the news that he was gay? He had a gut feeling that Ron wouldn't like it very much, and he wouldn't like the fact that Malfoy was becoming increasingly involved any more than he would like being told that he was now married to a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sirius didn't like the Malfoys at all, even though he was related to them. Harry honestly couldn't blame him; the rest of the Malfoy family were complete pricks.

Eventually, Harry made his way downstairs and joined in the festivities, although he had to admit he did the entire thing half-heartedly. This was definitely not one of his better Christmases, despite all of the nice gifts. Hermione got him a talking homework organizer. Ron got him a book about Quidditch. Mrs. Weasley gave him the annual Weasley sweater, along with a box full of mince pies. Oddly enough, he felt slightly upset by the fact that he didn't have anything from Draco.

That night, Hermione crept into Harry's room before Ron came up for bed. She sat down next to him on the bed and gave him a wan smile. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," he said, picking at a hole in the blanket. "I'm a bit nervous, though."

"For what?"

"We go back to school in two days, and I'll have to confront Draco," he admitted, a frown on his face. Hermione nodded.

"You know that it's for the best though. You can't let something like that just dangle in the air forever. It needs to be talked about." Harry sighed, and Hermione changed topics. "How are you going to tell Ron?"

"I wasn't really planning on it, actually." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off. "I mean, nothing is officially going on yet, right? So I figured that what he doesn't know won't hurt him… Or me." Hermione shook her head.

"Boys."