(A/N): Just a quickie - chips in this chapter means good old English chips - like French Fries, but you know - fat. Not crisps.

That's it - enjoy!

Snape had cornered Harry at the beginning of his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He was bearing the indifferent face of detention and Harry didn't bother to say it wasn't him.

"My office. Seven. Every night this week." He snarled.

"But Draco Malfoy jinxed me too," Harry said, pointing to the angry red mark on his cheek. "Shouldn't he get a detention too?" he paused, then added for good luck. "Professor."

Snape didn't even hesitate. "You wish, Potter."

Still, a week's detention wasn't expulsion and that was something.

He was lucky that was the only detention he had. Harry couldn't seem to concentrate in class. His mind was full of Blaise's words. All of them. A part of him was dying to go to Dumbledore – to ask just what that Grinldewald comment meant. Surely not – surely they hadn't been –

It would be such a strange coincidence – with Sirius and Lupin as well –

Next thing, Hagrid will have been with Aragog all this time and Harry wouldn't have picked up on it. All of the father figures in his life seemed to be gay, why would it be nonsensical?

But he couldn't ask Dumbledore, because Dumbledore had disappeared from the castle again. Harry had a vague idea of where he was going now – to find objects special to Voldemort, or whatever. That didn't help. A part of him didn't want to care, to let Dumbledore do whatever he was doing, because he didn't care about the Malfoys or anyone else at Hogwarts. But a larger part of him worried. Dumbledore was old, and although he had been highly questionable for the last year and a half, he meant well, Harry was sure.

That wasn't the only part about what Blaise said that was playing on his mind. He kept thinking about that phrase – that it was all his fault. It was true. He had felt that way about Mr Weasley's death. He still did, to some extent. Because if he wasn't Harry Potter it wouldn't have happened. If he wasn't the chosen one, if he was just an ordinary kid –

None of this would have happened.

If he'd told the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin, then it would have been fine. It would have been like Dean and Seamus. They could have kept it a secret.

It was all because of him. It was because he had dragged Draco into this that things had gotten the way that they were. There were a thousand times he could have changed things – got Draco out of this.

But he hadn't. He had been selfish.

Maybe Blaise was right. Maybe he didn't care what he had done. At least, maybe he didn't care at the time. He seemed to have ignored every warning sign.

It didn't help that everything was going back to how it used to be – exchanged glances in the Great Hall and walking parallel to each other in the hallways. It only gave him more time to mull over it. It only made him feel as though he had been correct before – that Draco was ashamed of this. Of them.

"Merlin's beard, Harry – stop staring at him like a kicked puppy," Hermione snapped. She still hadn't made things up with Ron. The whole Slughorn's party and her going with McLaggen had only made everything worse.

"He wouldn't go with me, would he?"

"What?"

"Slughorn's party."

"Probably not, since you're not meant to be together," Hermione said. They stopped outside of charms. He could see Ron and Lavender at the front of the queue. Hermione faced away from them, looking up at Harry. That was fine, his eyes were watching Draco walk away anyway. "There'll be enough trouble anyway – three guesses who Ginny's bringing."

"What does it matter if she brings Luna?"

Hermione shook her head. "The same that would happen to you and Draco. Just because they're girls-"

"Ginny's right – no one cares."

"No one cares yet," Hermione said. "You just wait until Colin Creevey passes his information around."

Harry stayed quiet then. Her words had made his stomach twist.

Would that be his fault too? He figured that it was. If he hadn't have lost his temper – if he had listened to Draco and kept his mouth shut – then maybe the conversation wouldn't pan out the way it had. Maybe not.

The only thing he kept coming back to was that it was undeniably his fault that him and Draco were in this position. It was certainly his fault that Arthur Weasley was dead and that Draco was a werewolf. That was his fault.

You singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn't even care.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, as the class filed back into the room. "I need you to do me a favour. I have more elf hats, but they won't take them."

"Because they don't want to be free, Hermione."

"I was thinking, if they came from you, from the Chosen One, maybe they'd accept them. Would you take them down to the kitchens for me?"

Harry stopped so suddenly that Dean Thomas walked into him. He frowned at Hermione – an idea had just struck him like lightning.

"The kitchens?" he repeated.

Hermione frowned back at him. Flitwick cleared his throat at the front of the line, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him along next to her.

The kitchens. Why hadn't Harry thought of it before? Of course, it would be impossible to do all the time – people would notice if he was missing from the Great Hall. But the odd day that Harry Potter didn't show up for dinner? No one would be the wiser.

They might notice, he supposed, but he could always lie and say that he didn't feel very well. Even the Chosen One got sick sometimes.

It was fool proof.

He had said it before, many times, but this time he was sure of it. This time, there couldn't be as many repercussions as before. It wasn't even breaking any rules, technically. At least, it wasn't breaking any rules that Harry was aware of.

So that evening he told Hermione to cover for him. She pouted at him and told him that she hadn't meant for him to disappear during dinner. She had meant for him to sneak down one evening, and now he was going to leave her sitting at dinner all alone.

Harry told her to sit with Ginny. He had meant it as a passing comment as she headed into the Great Hall. Really, though, he was worried. He was worried that Ginny's coming out wouldn't go according to her plan at all. He wanted to stand by her – just as she had stood by him and threatened to jinx anyone who went near him. But a part of him didn't want to see either. He didn't want to see the heartbreak on her face that things hadn't gone according to plan. Things always went according to Ginny Weasley's plan.

Then he lurked. He hated how he had gotten used to lurking and waiting. Not that he was very good at lurking – most people stopped to wave at him. Either to smile or smirk. More smiles than smirks now, at least, but he found the smiles left bile in the back of his throat. The smiles were fake.

He finally caught Draco's eye, and shoved off from the wall. He stopped himself just before he called to him, jerking his head towards the staircases leading down.

Draco nodded and looked away. He turned to Nott, but Harry didn't stay to watch, he slipped down the stars instead. A few stray Hufflepuff's passed him and he pretended to be heading down the corridor, but his steps were slow.

Harry didn't even hear him, but Draco was at his side moments later, his hand slipping into Harry's back pocket.

"What are you up to, trouble?" he asked, his mouth brushing against Harry's ear.

"I've got an idea," Harry tried not to be too obvious as he took Draco's wrist, putting his hand back to his side. "About where we could eat."

"Oh, my saviour from the Great Hall," Draco said.

Harry couldn't help but smile. Draco had been losing his sarcasm, what with everything that had happened. It was good to see that he was feeling like himself again.

"Here," Harry slowed in front of the fruit still life and tickled the pear. Draco's hand found Harry's waist again.

The portrait swung open to reveal the kitchens and Harry stepped inside, feeling, with some relief, Draco's hand slip from him again. He hated that. He hated the twist in his stomach whenever Draco touched him now. He was meant to miss it. He was meant to revel in it.

But he couldn't. Not with Blaise's words in his head.

"Harry Potter!" an all too familiar voice greeted him as soon as he entered.

Oh no. He stared down at the tiny house elf in front of him. He had forgotten about that.

"Dobby." It was hard to force a smile on his face.

"Dobby?" Draco asked incredulously from behind him, his hands settling back on Harry's hips.

Dobby's tennis ball eyes widened even further. His knees knocked together, as though he was about to keel over. His mouth moved, forming half of the word 'mister' and half of the word 'Malfoy,' but never quite forming either of them.

"Oh, no – Dobby – it's okay. It's alright – he's a friend," Harry stumbled over his words. He went on to say 'he's my boyfriend,' but stopped himself. He wasn't sure Dobby would understand. He wasn't sure Dobby even understood the 'friend' part and he realised just how much explaining he would have to do.

Dobby continued staring at Harry and Draco for so long that Harry started to feel itchy.

But then, Dobby blinked and said. "Harry Potter, you have many friends, but you know who this is?"

"Yes," Harry said.

The other house elves glanced at them, but they were busy putting food on plates, ready to send them upstairs. He noticed Winky in the corner, watching Dobby with drooping eyes.

Dobby was still looking from between him and Draco, his bat ears flapping slightly, as though he was caught in a light wind.

Harry felt Draco swallow against him.

"Why don't you set your plan into motion?" Draco murmured. His hands squeezed his hips for a moment. before he stepped around him. He cleared his throat, glancing at Harry for a moment, before he crouched down to Dobby's height.

Harry stepped away, wanting to give Draco some privacy. He asked one of the house elves softly if they could eat here. He said that they'd been having some trouble upstairs. The house elves nodded, though they still looked nervous and confused. They might not have been able to say no – they couldn't, Harry realised.

He sighed, instead saying, "look, let us eat down here, and I'll get Hermione to stop leaving those hats in the common room."

They blinked at him for a moment longer, then glanced at each other.

"They were hats?" one squeaked.

Harry laughed at that. He took the opportunity to slide a plate of chips(!) off of the table. He could hear Draco talking to Dobby.

"My father is not around anymore. He's in Askaban. I don't know what happened to the other house elves."

"Will you send them to Hogwarts?" Dobby asked.

"I don't-" Draco paused as Harry crouched next to him. "I don't live there, anymore."

"Did you apologise?" Harry asked, holding the plate out.

Draco gave him a withering look that doubled when he saw the plate of chips. He still took one though, holding it as though it was a worm. "I explained that my father's methods were extreme."

"That's not apologising," Harry crossed his legs, resting the plate on his knee.

"I'm not – Potter, he's a house elf."

"Apologise to me on Dobby's behalf then. He tried to kill me for a better part of a year because of you lot."

"Dobby was not trying to kill, Harry Potter. Just send him home for the year."

"The idea has merit, you must admit," Draco was almost purring, sliding next to Harry and leaning against him like a cat.

Dobby still looked completely concerned and utterly confused, which only made Harry laugh harder. For the first time in the last week, he leant back against Draco.

This was absurd. A year ago, if someone had told him he would be eating chips on the floor of the kitchen with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed. Well, he was laughing now, but this was a happy kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that made him forget, just for a bit, everything that was sat so heavily on his shoulders.

It was almost like it used to be. It was almost like summer.

"You don't kiss me anymore."

They were squeezed into a window ledge in one of the corners of the castle. Rain battered on the window outside, making the glass shake in its frame. No one usually came down here, and sitting in a chilly corridor at night was preferable to sitting in a classroom. Peeves had a habit of phasing through the walls of them – throwing chalk and stink pellets at any students he caught making out and it reminded them too push of homework they were struggling to find time for.

People looked in classrooms, anyway. No one looked down this corridor – it ended in a dead end. They were less likely to be found sat down here.

Because that was what it was all about now. It was back to hiding. Back to staying up late, waiting to meet each other in a dark corridor, ears out for any sign of trouble. There was always a tense knot in Harry's stomach when they sat like this. They could be found so easily.

"I do," Harry said, but his eyes were on his feet. He nudged Draco's feet with his own.

"You don't. Not properly," Draco paused, then, before Harry could reply, he nudged his knuckles against Harry's cheek. "I'll show you – kiss me now."

Harry blinked, forcing himself to look up to meet Draco's eyes. Easy, he thought. He kissed Draco all the time. He could kiss him now. He leant forward – they were almost chest to chest in the space.

You singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn't even care. You don't even care.

He stopped, his mouth hovering above Draco's. He couldn't do it. He couldn't pretend like everything was okay. Not when it was his fault.

"See?" Draco's hand was still under Harry's chin. His thumb made small rubbing movements. "Can you not stomach it now?"

"I don't want to not kiss you," Harry mumbled. It felt as though his throat was closing up – like the words didn't want to escape him. "It's-"

"Zabini. Do you want to kiss him instead?" Draco was joking, Harry could tell by his smirk.

"Absolutely not," Harry gave a breathless laugh.

"You're still thinking about what he said. Tell me."

"No," Harry said. He squeezed off of the window ledge, running his hands through his hair.

"Hypocrite."

"I don't know how."

Draco had hold of the back of his robe, and he tugged Harry back to him, wrapping himself firmly around his waist. He rested his face on the small of Harry's back. "I told you my emotional turmoil."

Harry paused. He held Draco's arms around him, watching a fork of lightning appear out of the window. It was easier when he didn't have to look at him. He could do this.

"All he said was the truth-"

"He never speaks the truth."

"It's my fault. It's my fault that everything is as fucked up as it is now."

"We've been through this, Potter," Draco nuzzled into Harry's back, his arms tightening. "There's nothing you could have done to change it. Nothing. I promise."

"But if I wasn't the Chosen One," Harry took a breath, closing his eyes. "It could have been someone else – Dumbledore said."

"Who?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know – I told him not to tell me. Actually, I sort of snapped at him."

"Good boy."

Despite himself, Harry smiled. The words made his stomach leap. He wanted to turn around and kiss him, but he still felt shaky. There was still something in the back of his throat that wouldn't disappear.

"You know the Chosen One is all nonsense, don't you?" Draco said. He sounded tired. "It's just something the Daily Prophet made up."

"I'm still the one who has to kill Voldemort."

"Even if you weren't, my father would still be a Death Eater. Even if someone else had to do it, he'd still be…" Draco trailed off. He turned Harry round, so that he faced him. He hooked his fingers into his belt loops and rested his chin on his stomach. "You wouldn't be able to change that."

Harry kept his eyes closed. The words were louder now. He could basically see them behind his eyes.

"He said that I ruined your life and that you didn't even care."

"See - I told you he was lying," Draco said. He waited for an answer, then he stood. His hands were cold on Harry's face. "Potter, you saved my life."

No, that wasn't right. That couldn't be right. He tried to open his eyes – to see if Draco was smirking, but Draco's thumbs brushed against his eyelids. He kept them closed, swallowing. The thing had grown. It was threatening to choke him.

"If you weren't you – in all your stupid, aggravating valour – I wouldn't be standing here with you. I'd be with my father. I'd be sat down in the Slytherin Common Room with Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle discussing whatever it is Voldemort's told them to do. I bet I'd be looking forward to getting a mark on my arm."

"No," Harry whispered. The words were hard to get out. "You have a bite mark instead."

"Being a werewolf is better than being a vampire," Draco said. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco raise his eyebrows at him. He raised his own. That didn't make him feel better. "It's a few days a month. I think it's worth it – to be free of that. I'm on the other side of the war. The right side. And my mother's safe. I'm away from my father. And I'm with you."

He pressed his forehead against Harry's, leaning against him. Harry took the opportunity to close his eyes again. He didn't trust his expression.

"If you weren't, you wouldn't be a werewolf."

"If I weren't, I'd be a Death Eater. I don't want to be a Death Eater, Potter."

Draco's thumbs wiped away tears Harry didn't even know escaped. He kissed him gingerly, as though he was scared Harry was going to pull away from him. He didn't, but he didn't kiss back, either.

"But you don't want to be with me."

"What makes you think that? I'm with you now."

He did pull away then. He let Draco's hands fall from him, stepping away. He crossed his arms, just for something to hold onto.

"Yeah. In secret."

"You're not making any sense." There was a bite in Draco's voice. He sat back against the windowsill with a sharp sigh, pushing white-blond hair away from his face.

"I don't want to hide this – I don't think it's worth it. I just – don't care what anyone else thinks. But I know you do. I know you don't want people to know about us-"

"Mon dieu, this time, it's not about you." Draco looked up at him with the ghost of a smile. He looked like a ghost, sat there. "It wouldn't matter which two boys were snogging each other in the corridor, it would be a problem. I thought this was easier. It's less like reigning in a small dog that wants to fight anything that looks at it funny."

"I wouldn't be a small dog. I'd be a big dog." Or a deer, Harry added.

"Only a small dog would say that," Draco's smirk twitched.

"I hate this. I hate being separate."

That made the smirk disappear. A frown appeared in its place instead. "We don't have to be together all the time, you know."

"I know!" Harry matched Draco's frown. "But if we want to be together, then we should be allowed to. We should be allowed to go to Slughorn's party like Hermione and McLaggen, then we should be able to!"

Draco sighed again, leaning against the window. It was raining even harder now. So loud that it was getting hard to hear each other.

"We can't do that."

"I know. I know things are messed up with dorms and dinner and – everything, but-" Harry went to push his hair back, again, but his fist remained locked there. "If I looked like Nott, would that change things?"

"Of course, it-"

There was a sudden meow. They both turned to the end of the corridor to see a familiar pair of red eyes watching them. Mrs Norris.

Harry swore first, diving into his bag to pull out his invisibility cloak on impulse. It was time to leave. They had to make themselves scarce before Filch appeared.

"Honey," Draco's hand was on his wrist, and he was suddenly kissing Harry before he was even aware of it. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Harry whispered. He could barely get words around the thing that was stuck in his throat.

Draco was disappearing down the dark of the hallway as if he hadn't even been there in the first place. Harry watched him until he wasn't even a white shape in the darkness, tugging the invisibility cloak around him.

The rain hissed and lashed outside as he side stepped Mrs Norris. Her eyes followed him, and he could hear Filch wheezing as he raced down the corridor to the source of trouble. But he knew Filch couldn't see him. He ducked into an alcove for safe measure, leaning against the wall and taking a breath.

Okay, he might have changed things for Draco. He might have 'saved' him from being a 'Death Eater.' It might not even matter to Draco that he was a werewolf. It didn't, really, to Harry. It wasn't so much that he was a werewolf – it was the pain that he was going through that Harry couldn't stand. But at least Narcissa Malfoy was safe. And at least Draco didn't have a Dark Mark on his arm.

That didn't change the fact that they had to hide constantly. It didn't change the fact that Draco had said 'of course' when Harry asked if things would be different if he looked like Nott. Maybe it was just because he was a Slytherin.

Or maybe Harry had been right all along.

Ron had seemed faintly horrified that Harry wasn't taking anyone to Slughorn's party, and a part of Harry suspected that it was because he wasn't taking Ron. He probably should, but he was scared that bringing him would result in a fight between him and McLaggen. Or him and Hermione. Or some kind of three-way fight.

There was no one else he could take, or no one else that he wanted to take.

He didn't even want to go to the damn thing.

But whispers had begun to follow Ginny down the corridor. They always silenced when she sent the crowds a fiery look. Harry noticed that she didn't sit so close to Ginny when they were studying now. There were less touches between them, as though the eyes following them were keeping them apart.

Well, the eyes were keeping them apart.

Harry hated that. He hated that they had so quickly turned into him and Draco. So that was the reason he was going. He had to be there in case things got out of hand for them. Ron had been too distracted with Lavender to really pay attention, and Harry was sure that even if he did mention it, he would get his head bitten off. That just left Harry to step up and be Ginny's big brother.

They walked there together. Ginny and Luna's hands were entwined, though only the tips of their fingers touched. They were ready to break apart at the first sign of trouble.

Ginny had a brave face on. Luna gave Harry a sad smile.

"I don't get why people are suddenly being dicks about it now," Ginny muttered as they headed up the staircases.

Luna glanced at Harry with large, grey eyes. For once, they seemed clear – she was actually in the room and paying attention. She looked scared. She needn't be – Harry wasn't about to give her away.

He shrugged instead. "Weird."

Ginny glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Have you and Draco been fighting again?"

"No," Harry said it too quickly and he cleared his throat to cover it up. "Why – why do you ask?"

"You haven't seen a lot of him lately."

It was true. He hadn't seen a lot of Draco and he wasn't trying to pin it on that one sort-of argument. They had only been passing each other in the hall. Sometimes Draco didn't appear in the Great Hall and Harry suspected he was using the kitchens instead. Maybe he could have gone down there and met him. He didn't have the courage – there was irony in that, he knew.

Besides, where there was Draco, there was Nott. As much as Harry liked him as a friend, the question still swirled around in his head.

If I looked like Nott, would that change things?

Slughorn's office was lit with red lamps and the enchantments on the wall made it feel like they were in a red tent. There was a warm tinge to everything – like looking through a Quality Street wrapper, Harry supposed. It was alarming seeing everyone with slightly crimson skin and burgundy. It made the insides of people's mouths look too dark and their eyes look like small holes.

As they entered, he was, predictably, accosted by Slughorn. Without a partner, he was subjected to small talk with a bunch of wizards who shook his hand too tightly and for too long. They grinned at him more like he was an animal in a zoo rather than a student.

"Alone, Harry?" Slughorn asked the moment some wizard who had written a book on vampires had walked away. Harry wondered what would happen if he had said his boyfriend was a werewolf.

The question made his insides squirm. It was such a direct translation of 'any girls in your life?' – a question Rita Skeeter had asked too often. It had made him cringe then and now he had all the more reason to.

"Most of my friends were already coming," he said tactfully instead. "Like Hermione – oh, look, there she is! I'd better say hi."

He pushed through the crowd blindly. He hadn't seen Hermione – he had no idea where Hermione might be – but he knew he had to find some air in this office. The smell of the food at the side of the room was heavy in the air, sitting in his stomach and refusing to move. There was music playing and it seemed too loud in Harry's ears – as if it was coming from inside his head instead of outside.

A hand grabbed his elbow and he almost jumped straight out of his skin.

But there was Hermione. A harassed looking Hermione, ducking behind him and telling him that McLaggen was completely unbearable.

"Well, I could have told you that," he said. "At least you haven't been carted around like a show pony all night."

"Maybe if you'd brought someone with you-"

"Who, Hermione?"

"I don't know, Parvati or someone."

"The last time I took Parvati to a dance, I don't think either of us had a good time."

"Someone would have gotten you out of it," Hermione tugged on Harry's arm. "Stay with me?"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but secretly he was more than happy too. They found a corner of the room that was nowhere near Trelawny or Snape, but close to the punch. Hermione stayed half-hidden behind Harry, squeaking whenever McLaggen got too close, or she recognised a famous wizard.

It wasn't enough to ward off Slughorn. Harry fought hard to keep the smile on his face as he was asked about his future. He didn't think 'I just want to stay alive for the next year' counted as an answer. Instead, he mumbled something about being an auror.

Luna appeared then, mentioning something about conspiracy theories surrounding aurors. There was an awkward silence in the group.

"I mean, you're right about one thing, Luna," Hermione said. "Harry, you'd make a much better teacher."

There was a secret smile there, mixed in with the genuine one. Harry laughed – genuinely, but it sounded forced, still. He didn't think he would be a good teacher. Meeting up in secret and telling people to stupefy each other was one thing – but being responsible for students? The idea was ludicrous.

"Funny you should mention that, Miss Granger," Slughorn was saying. "Professor Snape was telling me that last year there was a Defence Against the Dark Arts Club, against the school rules, I may add – and that Mr Potter was called to good old Dumbledore's office about it."

Well, Harry wanted to add, that and being found behind a tapestry with Draco Malfoy.

He was saved from a reply, however, by Filch's arrival. Everyone paused as he started shouting about a gate-crasher. There was a ripple of murmurs and a fair amount of disgust aimed that way.

But then Harry heard a sharp voice ring out.

"I'm telling you, I do have an invitation," he sounded calm, so unbelievably calm. But that was how he always sounded when he was doing something like this.

It couldn't be.

Harry's heart was in his mouth as he pushed through the crowd at Slughorn's side to Filch.

It was.

Draco Malfoy pointed at Harry, an all too familiar smirk on his face.

"Potter invited me."

(A/N): And that's all the angst for now! (For now)

I hope you guys enjoyed it - let me know what you think and I'll (hopefully) see you all next Wednesday. x