DRACO

"Draco? Can you hear me?"

He groaned, prying his eyes open and squinting in the bright light that greeted him. Every inch of his body hurt. His tongue felt like sandpaper. His head was pounding, throbbing worse than any migraine he'd ever been unfortunate enough to receive.

Despite his various impairments, he pushed himself into sitting position, trying to get his bearings. He seemed to be laying in a soft, warm bed. Above him, four blurry figures where hovering. He thought he saw a glint of glasses. Harry.

As soon as he moved, the figure closest to him reached out and pushed him back onto his pillows with a cry of alarm. Ah, that must be Madam Pomfrey, he thought.

"Don't move quite yet, boy!" she yelped, waving her arms frantically. "I don't want to have to heal your bones again! I suppose it's something to do with being friends with Potter here. I swear, whenever one of your crowd show up, it's as though you have no value over your own personal safety— "

"Sorry," he groaned. Or he tried to, at least. It came out as more of an, "sssahrreh".

Madam Pomfrey, used to hearing jumbled words in her infirmary, nodded. "You'd better be. Now sit! And don't move!"

She bustled away.

As soon as she left, the other three figures shuffled forward carefully. Draco's vision was clearing enough to discern Hermione's bushy brown hair, as well as Ron's vivid red.

"Hullo," he told them, his tongue clumsily sounding out the word.

"Are you okay?" He could picture Hermione's worried frown as she spoke.

"M'fine," he assured her, though the incessant pounding of his head made the words sound hollow even to his own ears.

The red blob that was Ron's hair shook back and forth. "You'll have to try harder than that. You're a bloody mess."

Draco hacked out a laugh, his dry throat preventing him from doing anything more. "Water," he croaked.

Harry passed him a glass, which he downed in an instant. "More," he requested.

Harry obliged.

Several glasses of water later, Draco had improved tremendously. He finally felt as though he could talk. His eyesight was also slowly returning, and the pounding of his head had faded slightly.

He groaned, collapsing onto his pillows once more. Closing his eyes, he desperately pleaded for his head to stop spinning. He felt as though there was a great weight on it, and he reached up to try and make it stop by—batting it away, he supposed? Whatever the case, his hands made contact with a cloth of some sort, rather than the thick hair he was used to feeling. A bandage.

He let his hands fall to the bed. "How bad is it?"

Hermione responded. Suddenly, Draco realized this hospital visit was the first time she'd spoken to him since she'd returned to Hogwarts from Australia.

"Pretty bad," she told him. Her voice was slightly hoarse, but otherwise steady. She seemed to have somewhat recovered from her initial grief.

"You've got several broken bones," she continued, "though Madam Pomfrey healed them almost the minute you got here. Lasting damage is a minor concussion, and a scar on your left arm from where you were stabbed."

Draco squinted at her. "I was stabbed?"

"By the banister, yeah," said Ron. "One the corner pieces impaled you."

Sure enough, his left arm sleeve was rolled up to reveal a vicious scar cutting through his bicep to join his Dark Mark. Self-consciously, he subtly turned his arm to hide the latter, his face burning with something that felt like shame.

He cleared his throat. "And—McGonagall?"

"She's okay," said Ron, showing no indication that he saw nor cared about the Mark. "She cushioned her fall. She's feeling really guilty about not being able to cushion you, too, but she honestly would have died if she hadn't thought of herself first, so... "

Draco nodded. He didn't hold it against the older woman. "What about the figures—the Death Eaters? What did they do?" Again, he shifted his arm to be sure the Mark wasn't visible.

"They destroyed a bunch of stuff, shattered the hourglasses holding the house points, vandalized the library books, that sort of thing," said Harry. "Luckily, McGonagall was able to get the word out that they were here in time to prevent them from doing much damage against the students. But— "

"They took something, didn't they," Draco said.

Harry face was becoming clearer now. Draco could see his features, and he was surprised to see guilt there.

"It was targeted," said Hermione. Her voice was shaking. Draco snapped his gaze to her as she continued.

"They came to Gryffindor tower. We were all asleep. No one knew they were there. And—well, I don't really know— "

"They found the eighth year boys' dormitory," said Ron, his voice heavy. "I didn't hear a thing, but they approached Harry's bed." He looked for Harry to continue, who was frowning.

"Draco, do you know the legends about the Elder Wand?" he asked him.

"Yes, of course," he replied. He'd been told the story countless times. It had always been a dream of his father's, to wield the most powerful wand in existence. Draco had always found it foolish. After all, the wand is only as powerful as the wizard wielding it. Of course, he hadn't told his father that.

Besides, he had an extremely vivid memory of Harry standing before a crowd, claiming that Draco had been the owner of the very wand.

"You don't mean you weren't kidding when you said I owned it?" Draco said incredulously.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I mean, we weren't kidding."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Well we have it," said Ron, causing Draco's brows to creep even higher up his forehead. "It's in Dumbledore's tomb. Or it was, anyway. Dumbledore owned it until you disarmed him, then Harry stole your wand, so he owned it. But Harry, being ridiculously selfless— " Ron rolled his eyes— "he put it in Dumbledore's tomb, instead of keeping it for himself. But the thing is, it was a bit unguarded except by the Hogwarts wards."

"We were counting on the fact that no one knew it was there," said Hermione. "Until now."

"So," Draco began, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together. "The Death Eaters go to the Gryffindor Common Room, look through Harry's mind using that Klaineau spell— "

Ron nodded. "—which only Pansy and Blaise could have told them about— "

"—which means they're involved with the group— "

"—and the new Death Eaters killed my parents." said Hermione, her voice full of pain. "Pansy and Blaise just left before suspicion could fall on them."

Ron wrapped a comforting arm around her waist.

Draco shot her a worried look before speaking again. "Meanwhile, the Death Eaters find out where the Elder Wand is using Harry's mind, and steal it. Right?"

The other three nodded, expressions showing various degrees of distress.

There was a moment of silence. Draco's mind was racing. It all made sense. But that left them to answer the next question: What were these new Death Eaters planning with it?

Before he could try and think of an answer, Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry, guys," he said, his voice heavy. "It was my fault. I should've fought them off, or something— "

"No, Harry," said Ron firmly. "It was me. I should've woken up. Besides, you admit it yourself, you're not very good at Occlumency— "

"The Klaineau spell is immune to Occlumency," said Draco. "It said so in the book. No, if anyone's at fault, it's me. I should've stopped them when I had the chance— "

"Oh, come on, that's not fair on yourself— "

"Exactly!" interrupted Hermione, glaring at them each in turn. "It's not fair! This isn't any of your guys' fault. It's not any of ours! The only ones who can be blamed for this are those new Death Eaters. So don't say it was you— "

"And Lavender Brown," Draco told her.

Ron started. "What?"

"She let them in," he told him. Quickly, he recounted the hissing noises he'd heard from the Mirror of Erised, as well as her reveal. When he'd finished, Hermione was frowning at the ceiling.

"That—makes sense, I suppose," she said thoughtfully. "I suppose if they—she wouldn't have to be Imperioused— "

"Sorry?" said Ron. "I'm not following."

"The way the Mirror works is that it shows you what you most desire, right?" Hermione told them. "So if someone's greatest desire was to bring Death Eaters into the castle, they could do that. They could create a door of some sort that would transport them here. But, in order to do that, the person summoning them would have to get inside the castle, bring in the Mirror of Erised, and then summon them when they were ready. Dumbledore did remove it, Harry," Hermione told him seriously. "It was just brought back in by the Death Eaters."

Relief spread across Harry's features for a brief moment. He nodded.

"In order to do this," Hermione continued, "the Death Eaters find someone they can manipulate, give her a reason to do their bidding, and force her to do what they want."

"But why didn't they just use Pansy or Blaise while they were here, then?" Harry asked.

"Well, because neither of them would really have wanted to bring in the Death Eaters," said Hermione. "I mean, sure, they want it, but there are probably a million other things they'd want much more than that. No, what the Death Eaters needed to do was give someone a reason to make their entrance into Hogwarts that person's greatest desire. Which means— "

"They're blackmailing her so horribly, she'd do anything for them," Ron finished, disgusted. "Without Imperious."

"Exactly," Hermione affirmed.

Silence fell again. Draco suddenly felt sick. What on earth could the Death Eaters be holding against Lavender to make her their slave?

"It explains why she's been acting a bit strangely recently," Hermione continued. "She's been a bit withdrawn lately. I'd been starting to wonder if she was sick."

"It's Voldemort all over again."

If Harry hadn't been standing right next to him, Draco wouldn't have heard it. As it was, his words were so quiet that both Ron and Hermione, who were across the bed from him, were oblivious to them, and Draco was sure he wasn't supposed to have heard. However, he reached out and brushed Harry's hand comfortingly with the tips of his fingers, disguising his movements with a feigned attempt to adjust his pillows.

Draco subtly glanced at the other two. He thought he saw Hermione's eyes flicker towards them momentarily, but before he could check again, Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office, laden with several bottles of potions. Draco quickly withdrew his hand from Harry's.

"All right, scurry along," she told the other three, who collected their things without complaint, knowing it was no good to argue. "This boy needs his rest."

They left, leaving Draco to choke down several nasty flavored liquids and then drift off to sleep.

HARRY

"So, erm, Ron? Can I tell you something?"

It was breakfast the next day, and Harry had persuaded Ron and Hermione to join him on a walk around the lake. Yet only the former had assented, for Hermione had journeyed to the library. Harry had a feeling that she knew more than she let on, however, and thought that she might have a guess about what his intentions were

Indeed, he had decided to tell Ron about his whole 'I'm gay for Malfoy' thing. With the second boy still in the Hospital Wing, Harry thought that, should anything happen, at least Ron would be able to easily avoid them both for the following week.

"Sure. What is it, mate?" Ron told him, looking at him curiously.

Harry opened his mouth—and then closed it. Now that he realized he was actually about to do this, he suddenly felt very awkward.

Well, too late now, he thought to himself.

"Erm—remember that 'the right question' thing Hermione was talking to us about?" he began.

"Yeah... Did you figure it out?" Ron asked, suddenly looking excited.

Harry nodded.

"Sweet!" Ron grinned widely. "Well? What is it?"

Harry took a deep breath, but found he couldn't speak. Something seemed lodged in his throat. His eyes were glued to his feet.

"Oh, come on, mate!" Ron cried. "You can't leave me hanging!"

Harry was silent.

"Mate?" Ron asked, his voice more hesitant. "What— "

Harry forced the words out. "I'm gay."

Ron's look of worry suddenly turned into one of surprise. "Oh! Uh—cool!"

"For Draco Malfoy," Harry continued.

Ron was silent for a long time. Then, sounding as though he wished for anything else to be true, he said, "You like Draco Malfoy."

Harry, still looking at his feet, squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

There was another long silence. Then, Ron sighed.

"Alright. Fine."

Harry's eyes snapped open. He stared at Ron. "Fine?"

Ron shook his head, as though he could hardly believe what he was saying either. "Yeah. Honestly mate, I don't care if you're gay. Really. But, Malfoy—of all people—why?"

Harry's cheeks turned a bright red. "I don't know. He kissed me."

Ron closed his eyes and rubbed his temples fiercely. "He—he kissed you. Okay. You know

what? Whatever." His hands dropped to his sides and he opened his eyes, fixing Harry with a stare so fierce Harry thought he might wither under his gaze. "All I care about is—I mean—you did like my sister, right? You weren't lying to her?"

Relieved, Harry shook his head. "No. I liked her. Of course I liked her. Just—not anymore. Not like that."

Ron nodded. "Okay. Then—full steam ahead, mate."

Harry stared at him, hardly daring to believe it. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'd prefer if it was anyone but Malfoy, but—I suppose he's gotten better. I just worried about Ginny, that's all."

Harry couldn't help it. He grinned.