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Lesson Ten

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The Great Hall was alive with chatter, the bustling of an excited group of isolated men and women who were expecting new additions. Draco wryly wondered if this is how they'd acted when they heard about his arrival as he munched on his bite of cereal.

His eyes unconsciously flicked towards Potter, who was standing in the doorway with McGonagall, smiling at something the headmistress had said. Draco looked away sharply when Potter turned towards him, seemingly feeling his gaze.

"'Morning, Malfoy," Marcus greeted as he and Wood slid onto the bench across from him. Draco nodded in return, unable to meet their eyes as he felt his face heat. He couldn't erase the memory from the other day from his mind – the intimacy he'd stumbled upon.

But it was obvious now, as he stole glances over his bowl; it was in the casual brushing of their shoulders, the way Wood passed Marcus the marmalade without any words – simple acts of domesticity that only came from ages of companionship.

He glanced at Potter again.

"'bout time the post got here," Wood muttered around his eggs, watching the ceiling as a few dozen owls soared into the Hall, meeting their owners with a near-silent swish of feathers. Draco shrugged to himself, uncaring as Marcus and Wood began divvying out sections of the Prophet.

Suddenly, something sharp pricked his shoulder, and a great gust of wind ruffled his hair. "Hermes?" Draco asked with pleasant surprise, the great bird having been absent long enough that he had assumed it had abandoned him.

The owl nipped his ear affectionately, its steely, yellow gaze softening under his master's attention. The bird dropped a heavy bundle of letters on Draco's lap before beginning to nibble at his untouched meat.

Draco's heart skipped uncomfortably at the familiar font on the letter, knowing his mother's script better than his own. He swallowed thickly as he peeled open the seal, drawing out the parchment.

Draco,

My little Dragon, I hope you are well. It's been weeks since you left, and I've heard from Mrs. Zabini that you cancelled your lease in Knockturn and have moved to Hogwarts. I wish you the best, darling, in whatever you plan on doing.

The reason I am writing this, even though your father has distinctly ordered me to not contact you–

Draco smirked, practically feeling his mother's bemusement through the paper: his father was no match for her, truly.

-is that the amount of requests for interviews from various publishing establishments has reached a staggering amount. I've been collecting them, making sure your father does not destroy them in his silly whims, and I've sent them with Hermes, who appeared here yesterday, having been with the Parkinson's for many days, apparently. I do hope you consider these requests, Draco; some of them are from formidable publications, after all.

Well, darling, there is little else I have to say, other than that I love you and will always be here if you decide to return to the Manor.

~ N. Malfoy

Draco's throat felt tight as he brushed his thumb over the inky I love you, feeling flustered.

"Malfoy? Y'alright?" Marcus asked gruffly, watching the blonde over his article on new Quidditch tactics. Draco nodded tightly, clearing his throat as he set the letter aside, shifting his gaze to the bundle of attached documents.

Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet, Merlin's Quill, The Sorcerer's Scribe…the list went on and on, stacking up to a total of twelve offers from various magazines and newspapers. Draco narrowed his eyes at the last letter.

"What the hell is OUT: Wizard Edition?"

Marcus and Wood looked at him oddly. "…It's the magical world's leading queer magazine. Why?"

"They want to interview me, apparently."

"…Is that a good thing?"

Draco shrugged as there was a sudden spike in the noise level of the hall, and a flurry of activity rippled through the room, focused around the door. The three seated men turned their heads, watching as McGonagall parted the crowd long enough for Draco to catch a glimpse of bushy hair, gangly limbs, and –

"Blaise?" Draco breathed, astonished as his friend basked in the attention of the collected group. Draco stood from his seat, dazedly nearing the collected masses. Blaise caught his eye, beaming mischievously as Draco reached out, punching him squarely on the arm.

"Oi! What was that for?" Blaise yelped, rubbing at the smarting wound.

"What the fuck are you doing here? And why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Well, McGonagall was asking around for those who were erudite with wandless magic and its theories, and I happily volunteered my services."

"Since when have you been a leading source of information on wandless magic?"

Blaise shrugged. "Well, after your SW article, Theo, Pansy and I started to read up on it." The dark-skinned man blinked, clearing his throat. "You know, since we had nothing better to do; it's not like we were worried or anything." Draco grinned, feeling oddly warm.

"Of course, idiot."

Blaise shrugged again, returning the grin. "Oh, that reminds me!" He turned around, peering over the chattering crowd. "Oi, that's your cue!"

Draco's grin widened as Theo and Pansy walked through the archway, rolling their eyes at Blaise's introduction. Draco pushed through the edge of the crowd, losing his words as he stared at his friends.

"Hey," Theo finally said with a handsome smile.

"Hi," Draco replied, hoping Potter was watching as he leaned forward and kissed Theo lightly on the corner of his mouth. Theo's eyebrows were scrunched in mild confusion, but he grinned back.

"Fine, forget about me again, then," Pansy pouted. Draco schooled his features into something more neutral, remembering the unpleasantness from their last meeting.

"Pansy. How are you?" The petite girl narrowed her eyes at him.

Then she sighed. "Look, Dray-Dray, you said some bitchy things, I said some bitchy things – let's just get over ourselves, shall we? Because I missed harassing you all the time."

Draco stared at her for a long moment before allowing his mouth to curve into a smug grin. "I knew you'd surrender first."

"Well, fuck you, bitch," Pansy said fondly as she pinched Draco's exposed hand. The four Slytherins laughed, feeling giddy amongst their school's ancient walls.

o

"Oh, Marcus! How are you?" Pansy gushed as they joined Draco's breakfast companions. An odd blush peppered Marcus' cheeks, causing Wood to raise an eyebrow.

"Well, anyways," Blaise cut in. "what's the situation around here?"

"You mean with the castle?" Draco surmised.

Blaise snorted. "No, of course not. I know all about that; what's up with you and Potter? Why is he even here? I thought he was in the United States." Draco shrugged, levitating his fork lazily.

"…I heard he was off doing a favour for the Ministry," Wood said nonchalantly, stealing the Quidditch statistics from Marcus.

"Yeah," Theo added. "My mother has friends in the Auror Department who heard he was in Romania."

"Romania? What the fuck is in Romania?" Draco sneered as he saw Potter hug Weasley with a relieved look on his face, Granger watching the two with a pleased smile. Something prickly snared in his gut.

"Dragons, mostly," Pansy shrugged. "But, really, Draco – what's Potter been up to? How long has he been here?"

"Not much can happen in two days, Pansy. And it's not like me and Potter are on good terms, even. Why do all of you seem to think that?" He glanced at Theo suspiciously, who shook his head, silently telling Draco that he hadn't shared anything with the other two about Draco's idiotic feelings.

"You've always been a little bit obsessed with Potter, mate," Blaise said simply as he stole a piece of toast off of Draco's forgotten plate.

"Fuck off. Potter was obsessed with me – not the other way around. He fucking stalked me all during sixth year."

"Draco, let's not go into this saga again, alright? All I can see is that you and Potter clearly haven't talked things out yet, considering all of those longing looks you keep sending each other. The homoerotic tension is choking me," Pansy said dryly, her grin widening as Draco whipped his head around to see if Potter really was staring at him. The barely-noticeable blush on Potter's turned cheeks was enough of a tell to make Draco's face heat.

"I think you and Potter need to have a little tête-a-tête, which, sadly, is not as dirty as it sounds. You two are our leading experts on wandless magic, after all. This whole inner-Hogwarts-disease conundrum is resting on your shoulders, Dray-Dray."

The table was quiet for a long moment as the reality of Pansy's words rang in everyone's ears.

"'Dray-Dray'?" Marcus finally asked incredulously, causing Theo, Blaise and Pansy to crack up with hysterical laughter.

"You know what? Fuck all of you," Draco said dismissively as he roughly stood from the table, ignoring Theo's pleads to come back as he stormed out of the hall, the bundle of letters trapped in his grasp.

He was halfway up the grand staircase, just beginning to feel the angry energy drain from his fingertips when fast footsteps began sounding behind him. "Hey, Malfoy, hold on a moment," Potter called, Granger and Weasley meandering at the bottom of the steps. Draco's feet froze, almost involuntarily, and he turned to face the man.

"What, Potter?" He asked icily, focusing on a spot somewhere near Potter's ear.

Potter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was thinking –"

"That must've been a novel experience."

Potter frowned, but continued, "that we really need to sit down at talk through the possible threats that Hogwarts is using its energy to protect against – you know, the one you talked about with McGonagall?"

"Does that 'we' include Weasley and Granger?"

Potter paused. "…It doesn't have to."

Draco licked his dry lips, finally meeting Potter's eyes. "Fine. Are you free now?"

Potter's gaze flicked to his two friends, some telepathic communication passing between the three. "Sure. Now is good. Wanna head to the library?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "It's ruined, remember? We haven't gotten around to making it any less deadly yet."

"Oh, right." Potter rubbed the back of his neck again. "Um…"

Draco huffed out an impatient breath. "Just follow me, Potter." He stuffed the letters into his robes as he brushed past Potter, retracing his steps back to the Entrance Hall. He steadily ignored Weasley, who glared at him, and merely nodded at Granger, who gave a tentative smile.

He pushed open the front doors, taking a deep breath of the air, revelling in that heavy, anticipatory freshness that precluded a rainstorm. He could feel Potter's presence behind him as he strode towards the far-off Quidditch pitch. The wooden stands loomed above the green plains, outlined by the dark, billowing clouds approaching.

"Are you sure we should talk out here? It seems like it'll rain soon," Potter mumbled as he walked alongside Draco, who raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Do you forget that your one of the most powerful wizards of our century often?" Potter winced awkwardly, a mumbled "Oh, right," on his lips.

Draco climbed the stairs into the stands, enjoying the utter emptiness of the skeletal-looking arena. It was oddly calming. He walked a ways down the row, finally taking a seat somewhere in the middle of the Ravenclaw section. Potter warily sat next to him, a good deal of space between their bodies.

"Well," Draco broke the quiet tension pitilessly, "what do you have to add to my theory?"

There was a ruffling of parchment, and Draco turned his head to see Potter holding a dingy-looking stretch of paper. "And what is that, exactly?"

"This is the Marauder's Map. It's a map of Hogwarts – it's a little outdated, considering all the repairs going on, but I figured looking at Hogwarts' various parts might make possible answers come a little easier."

Draco leaned closer, amazed as he watched tiny dots move around the castle, and the two dots that were sitting in the Quidditch stands, right where he and Potter were sitting. "This is extraordinary magic, Potter. How did you make it?" Draco asked, momentarily distracted as his thirst for knowledge reared its head.

Potter's mouth twisted sadly. "I didn't make it, Malfoy," he said simply, something in his tone making Draco drop the line of conversation.

"Alright, then; we still need to know what we're looking for before a map can really be of any help." Potter sighed, a gust of cool wind ruffling his hair.

"Yeah, I know. What could possibly be attacking Hogwarts from the inside?"

They settled into silence, Potter looking far off into the distance, while Draco stared at the map resting on Potter's lap, unconsciously checking if all of his common haunts were noted correctly.

"Potter?" Draco said suddenly, his eyes focused on a blank expanse on the seventh floor.

"What?"

"Where's the Room of Requirement?"

"Huh? Oh, we think it's Unplottable – it's never shown up on the Map." Potter looked down at the document as well, a confused wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. "I've never seen it do this before, though," he mumbled to himself, tracing the cursive outlines of the corridor, which seemed to flicker on the yellow page.

"You know, I wasn't able to enter the Room yesterday, either," Draco remembered aloud, meeting Potter's curious gaze.

"But what does the Room of Requirement have to do with Hogwarts' magic being used up?" Potter voiced Draco's thought. Another gust of wind ripped through the stands, ruffling their cloaks and the Map's pages.

They were on the right track, Draco knew it. Just, something was missing. Draco stared off at the hoops at the other end of the pitch as they collected their thoughts, wondering randomly how so many years had gone by without him getting on a broom. Well, willingly, he thought suddenly, remembering fire and pain and Potter's back pressed to his chest.

He gasped. "Holy fuck! That's it!" Potter stared at him worriedly.

"What's it?"

"The Fiendfyre, Potter!" Understanding sparked in Potter's eyes, and the two men felt power and knowledge rush through them. "It's cursed fire, after all. It simply burns through anything in its path – Hogwarts must be spending all of that energy trying to contain the Fiendfyre, or supply things for it to burn so that it doesn't get released onto the rest of the castle!" Draco concluded excitedly, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Potter gaped at Draco, who could feel his enthusiasm warm his cheeks. "That actually makes sense." Something else seemed to click in Potter's brain. "And you said that Hogwarts is like a body, right? So, like a body's immune system, it must not be able to differentiate us tapping into its magical core from the Fiendfyre trying to damage it. It's like antibodies and stuff," Potter finished lamely. Draco nodded, recalling vague terms like 'nonspecific immune responses' and 'lymphocytes' from some old Muggle textbooks he'd read years ago.

They beamed at each other, all animosity forgotten in light of their new discovery. A soft plop! sounded next to Draco's ear, and something cold dripped onto his skull. He looked up, a raindrop catching on his cheek as the first few droplets fell from the blanket of clouds.

He simply laughed, feeling askew.

He grinned at Potter, whose intense gaze made Draco's smile slowly fade. The rain began to pour, cold water tapping a hollow rhythm into Draco's skin, but he could barely feel it. Potter's hair was damp, his dark locks curling around his ears as he continued to stare at Draco, whose heart suddenly felt constricted.

Potter's palm was cold and wet as it cupped his jaw, and Draco's eyelids seemed to close involuntarily as those green eyes neared. And then there was only darkness, the smell of rain, and hard, warm lips pressed against his.

Draco took in a sharp breath through his nose, his fingernails scraping against the damp wood of the stands as he clenched his fist. Draco had been kissed by exactly three different people in his eighteen years of life: Pansy in fourth year, who had been enthusiastic and well-learned, with a habit of biting; a boy named Geoffrey, who had been finicky and shy, and whose lips had tasted like roses; and Theo, who felt like acceptance and safety when they snogged, who liked to whisper nonsense against his lips.

Potter was different.

Potter kissed with purpose, with a steely confidence that was juxtaposed by his soft, questioning touches, the way he seemed to ask for consent with each brush of his thumb against Draco's cheekbone. It was heady, to feel like the complete focus of someone's universe for just a moment.

Draco's eyes sprung open as Potter's tongue traced the seam of his lips inquisitorially, asking for permission. Potter's eyes were closed, his glasses having been removed at some point without Draco's notice. Draco could see the earnest curve of Potter's brow, the feeling held in the soft lines on the corners of Potter's eyes. Something wavered inside of him.

He surrendered, closing his eyes for security and preservation as he reached forward, curling his fingers into the front of Potter's clammy robes as he opened his lips, supressing an embarrassing noise as Potter licked into his mouth.

It was surreal, the heat in his fingers and face combating with the chill from the continuing downpour and the whispering wind around them. He sucked softly on Potter's tongue, enjoying the quiet sound the man made in response. He shuddered as Potter's hand on his cheek moved down his neck, smearing rainwater into the sensitive skin above his collarbone.

There was a gentle roll of thunder in the distance, the sound being sudden enough to cause Draco to pull back in surprise. "Fuck," he panted, staring down at his hands, which were clinging onto Potter's drenched robes desperately. The two men breathed, trying to keep the continuing mist out of their mouths.

"Draco, I –" Potter stopped himself, sounding choked. Draco pulled his hands away, abruptly standing with his unsteady legs. A line of water ran down Draco's spine, soaking him to the core. The cloudburst seemed to be gradually running out of energy as Draco collected himself, trying to anxiously deny the warring thoughts that were crashing in his mind.

"That didn't just happen," he finally whispered, turning his head just enough to see Potter out of his peripheral vision without having to meet those eyes. "That never happened," he stressed forcibly, confused anger colouring his words.

"But, Draco –"

"It's Malfoy, Potter. We're not friends." Draco rigidly began walking to the stairs, but stopped for a moment as he glanced back at the drowned-looking man still sitting in that same spot, toying with the magically-dry pages of the Map. "And we're sure as hell not anything more than that," Draco said blankly, knowing Potter heard him by the way those shoulders seem to slump forwards a few more centimetres, the dark, depressing backdrop seemingly framing the moment to perfection.

It was a violent, severe walk back to his rooms, and Draco fingers shook around the handle, which, for once, didn't scream with horror at his touch. He pressed his back to the wood once he was safely inside, sliding to the floor in a rumpled, dripping mess. He absently wondered if Potter had gone to McGonagall to share their breakthrough in his theory – but the pain from thinking about Potter cut off his train of thought before it had truly begun.

He propped his elbows up on his bended knees, cradling his face in quivering palms.

Merlin, what do I do now?

ooOoo

To be Continued…

ooOoo

606's Note: So…look at that romance burn! Anyways…Let's just be real, here – my posting on Fridays just isn't gonna fly anymore, so let's say…Mondays, maybe? Hmm. Don't worry, the posting will still be about two weeks apart, not more, and there's only a handful of chapters left, anyways.

(But there will be a sequel! *leers*)