On Wednesday, marble-sized bits of ice pounded the castle's windows; the sharp noise caused many teachers to cast Muffling Spells in their classrooms. The strangely inclement weather kept everyone fixedly indoors, and if the students did have to venture outside briefly, they used their heavy textbooks to shield their heads from the pelting hail.

The icy storm did not abate until late afternoon when the eighth years had their last class together. Only then did the clouds cease their violent attacks and swap the ice for innocently soft snow.

"I've never seen hail in this part of the country before," Hermione said worriedly as she and her friends made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "What if it hails again during your match, Harry?"

But seeing as the Gryffindor v. Hufflepuff match was in mid-March, Harry wasn't all that concerned. "It'll probably be too warm for it then."

"They might just cancel the match if that happens," Ron pointed out, "Since no one will even come to watch it…" He broke off as they entered the classroom.

Professor Dahlia had cleared the space just as she had done for the boggart, stacking the desks against the wall. But this time, there was no cabinet, only empty polished wood floor. The thirteen students shuffled in apprehensively, dropping their schoolbags by the wall. The professor herself hadn't yet arrived, which no one considered odd; Professor Dahlia was the tardiest of all the Hogwarts teachers, but none of her students complained much about the classes being shortened by a few minutes.

Harry edged over to Draco, standing by himself as usual. "Hey," Harry greeted casually, "This looks fun."

"What does?"

"We're probably starting our dueling unit, by the looks of it," Harry said, and the rest of the class seemed to be coming to the same conclusion, starting to drift off into pairs.

Just then, the door flew open, revealing Professor Dahlia, whose short black hair was dripping wet. Beneath her black robes, the jeans and T-shirt she was wearing seemed to be damp as well, but she strode to the front of the classroom as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Bit of a hitch in the Owlery," She explained vaguely. "But never mind that. We're dueling!" The former Auror grinned somewhat manically. "I've been looking forward to teaching this all year."

"Do you want to be partners?" Harry asked Draco, but before the Slytherin could reply, the professor raised her voice over the excited class.

"I'm going to be choosing the partners for now," Dahlia said, "As you all seemed to have settled into a partner picking pattern." She let out a solitary laugh at her accidental alliteration before continuing. "Let's see…Anaya and Gavin, Seamus and Parvati, Dean and Henrietta, Hermione and Pansy…" Harry saw Pansy roll her eyes dramatically, but she obediently walked over to Hermione, who looked queasy - "Draco and Padma, Harry and Ron. Owen, you lucky fella, you can help me with the demonstrations," She said jauntily, and the curly-haired Hufflepuff swallowed apprehensively.

Draco muttered a quick, "See you," and Harry walked over to Ron, grinning.

"Just like old times," Ron chuckled, recalling their sparring days in Dumbledore's Army.

"Alright, make sure you're ten steps away from your partner," Dahlia instructed. "For the next couple of days, I'll be teaching you spells that change your opponent's spatial and temporal perceptions to disadvantage them. These particular hexes are pretty benign, as hexes go, but they're relatively obscure and hard to perform, so you can bet that outside of a classroom setting, your opponent won't be expecting them. The first one we'll try is called the Deceleration Hex. Say the incantation without wands first: mora motus. And repeat."

"Mora motus," The class chorused.

"Sweet. Okay, take a look, everyone," Professor Dahlia pointed her wand at Owen, who raised his own weapon defensively. "Owen, I want you to Stun me. Go on, right now."

The Hufflepuff took a breath to say the incantation. Quick as a flash, Dahlia intoned clearly, "Mora motus," while simultaneously drawing her wand back. Owen suddenly appeared to be moving in slow motion; the whole class could see his wand raise as if going through molasses.

The professor, still intensely pulling back her wand with laser-like focus, called out, "Anyone who's behind me, get out of the way now!" The students immediately parted behind her, and Dahlia swiftly dodged the spell's oncoming pathway; Owen's mouth had already begun to form the words. As she lowered her weapon, the Hufflepuff began to move regularly again.

"…pefy!" He shouted, and the Stunning Spell promptly ricocheted off the stone wall on the other side of the classroom. The whole class ducked on instinct except for Owen, who was bewildered from having his time perception change; anticipating this, Professor Dahlia neutralized the spell with a quick Shielding Charm.

Many of the students immediately burst into applause. "That was so cool, Professor!" Parvati cried in awe. Even Anaya Rosier, a Slytherin who regularly wore a permanent scowl, looked impressed.

"Remember, it'll only get easier and easier with practice," Dahlia said with a grin. "It might look simple, but there's a lot of concentration that goes into it. Take turns trying it on your partner, but don't use any other spells for now."

Harry faced Ron and held his wand at the ready. "You can go first."

Ron nodded. "Mora motus," He said, jerking his wand back a bit abruptly. Harry lifted his arm to see if the spell worked, but he was able to move at a normal pace. "Oh…Well, you next."

After a dozen or so back-and-forths, Harry and Ron began to get the hang of the hex. Harry found that, by changing the speed of his wand movement, it subtly changed Ron's speed as well.

"Nice one, Parvati…" Professor Dahlia said as she looked about the room, "Seamus, keep your wand more horizontal…Hermione, that's great work, see if you can do it wordlessly now…"

Before long, the whole class had more or less mastered the hex, though only Hermione and Draco had managed to perform the spell without speaking aloud. "Okay, I think we have time to try another one," Professor Dahlia said, "We'll switch partners now - Hermione, come over with me…" She continued, pairing Harry and Draco together, and the two friends made their way over to each other.

Draco smirked as he twirled his wand between his pale fingers. "Can't seem to get the hang of those nonverbal spells, eh, Potter?"

"Put a sock in it, Malfoy," Harry replied amiably.

"The next spell we'll be trying is relatively modern and doesn't have an official name yet," Professor Dahlia told them. "Basically, it will change your opponent's spatial perspectives to throw them off balance. Quite effective in my experience but physically harmless. Unless you battle near a cliff with a sheer drop-off, of course," She added mysteriously, as if she had been in that situation before. "Anyway, the incantation is locus alteratio. The wand movement doesn't matter too much, but I find flicking works the best. Say it without wands first."

"Locus alteratio."

"And now, try it on your partner."

Draco raised his wand before Harry did. "Locus alteratio," He said, pointing his wand in the Gryffindor's direction.

In that same instant, Harry found himself standing directly in front of Draco instead of ten feet away from him. The floor seemed to tilt slightly beneath his feet and took several clumsy steps backward.

"Watch it, Potter," Draco said warningly, but his voice seemed to be coming from Harry's right. Suddenly, he bumped into something soft and human-shaped; Harry reached behind him to gauge his surroundings, feeling increasingly confused. "You're grabbing my face," Draco grumbled, and the spell fell away. Harry discovered that his back was pressed up against Draco and was so startled that he jumped away - only the clasp of Draco's cloak seemed to have caught on the edge of Harry's robes. Tangled and bewildered, Harry fell to the ground, the Slytherin landing unceremoniously on top of him.

"Oh - er, sorry…"

"The fabric's stuck to me," Draco said irritably. As he reached to detach himself, his hand accidentally brushed Harry's neck, and all of a sudden, Harry realized that the Slytherin's body was indecently close to his - he could feel the heat coming from him through the layers of their uniforms. Draco seemed to have realized their proximity as well; he bit his lip subconsciously, then remembered that they were in a crowded classroom and immediately rolled away, stood up quickly, and adjusted his robes.

Thankfully, the rest of the class was experiencing similar hex-related accidents and didn't notice their blunder. Harry still sat on the ground, a little breathless from the momentary contact.

"Come on, up you get," Draco sighed, holding out his hand for Harry to take. Harry clasped Draco's forearm and stood up as well, secretly pleased to see that Draco's face had taken on a pink tinge.

"The hex worked really well," Harry offered.

"Obviously. It seems so impractical, though," Draco mused. "Perhaps we're going about it wrong. You try it."

But before Harry could utter the incantation, the Hogwarts bell let out three, sonorous gongs. "Ah, shoot," Dahlia sighed. "Misjudged the timing again. Everyone, I practice these hexes with your friends, all right? And I don't mean just a couple times after class. I want to see improvement on Friday! Class dismissed."

• • •

At the end of their first week back, the eighth years found themselves with plenty of homework to complete; in addition to a Potions essay and a Herbology packet, the first part of their end-of-year paper was due that Monday. Without a Hogsmeade visit, Quidditch practice or match to distract them, Hermione declared that Saturday a study day, and dragged both Harry and Ron to the library.

Harry immersed himself in volumes about the Unforgiveable Curses, which was no small feat since those particular titles were weighty tomes at least six inches thick. Armed with a signed note from Professor Dahlia, he checked out so many Dark Arts books from the Restricted Section that Madam Pince kept shooting him suspicious glares over the edges of her glasses.

"I'm done," Harry sighed three hours later. In front of him, covered in scrawls and multiple crossing-outs, a long piece of parchment held his completed outline and introduction paragraphs.

"Hand me the green one," Ron requested, and Harry obligingly slid over Dark Objects and How to Spot Them. "Thanks." Ron kept his head bent as he flipped to the table of contents. He seemed to be more focused than usual on his studies - though Harry suspected that studious tendency came along with Hermione being his girlfriend.

"Aren't you going to do Potions?" Hermione asked, looking up from her parchment as Harry pushed back his chair.

"Yeah, but I need a break," Harry replied; his neck ached from reading all those books. "I'm going to take a walk."

He emerged from the musty, stale air of the library to the cold halls of the castle, footsteps echoing on the flagstones. Most students were either studying or outside enjoying the few sunny days that January provided, so the corridors stood empty. Harry decided to stretch his legs for a few minutes before heading back.

"Potter!"

The familiar voice pierced the quiet like a sword through ice. Draco, who seemed to be in a rush, came up to Harry, looking more animated than usual. A clinking sound came from his school bag, which hung heavily across one shoulder.

"I want to show you something," Draco said, a little out of breath. "And possibly ask a favor."

"Now? Sure, but-"

"Come with me." Before Harry could say anything more, Draco turned abruptly and strode purposefully down the hallway. Harry teetered on the edge of hesitation for a moment before resolving to follow him.

After passing particular paintings and ascending multiple flights of stairs, Harry began to recognize the route they were taking.

"Malfoy, are we going to the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Wasn't it…" Harry shuddered involuntarily at the memory of that nightmarish night. Enchanted fiery beasts devouring forgotten objects and taking the life of their foolish caster. "Destroyed?"

"Nearly." A shadow passed over Draco's face; he remembered it, too. "But I kept trying to get it working a few times throughout the year, and it seems to have repaired itself." They came to an empty wall in which the Room of Requirement was hidden, and Draco closed his eyes, walking briskly back and forth three times. With a subtle rumble of shifting bricks, the heavy wooden door to the hidden chamber slid into view.

Ever since Harry used the Room of Requirement for Dumbledore's Army, he had seen it take various forms, each suited ideally to its requested purpose. The magic of the room had obviously not failed Draco. The antechamber appeared to be a potions workshop; a stone counter was piled with shiny cauldrons and laid out with an assortment of tools like knives, mortars, and droppers. Into the table, a stovetop was set, upon which a small pewter cauldron sat, steam rising in sulfuric clouds from its surface.

"What's that?" Harry asked, covering his mouth with his sleeve. The rotten-egg scent of sulfur made his stomach do flip-flops.

"Come see," Draco replied, looping on a white facemask that stood by his workstation. Another one suddenly appeared by the cauldron, and he handed it to Harry.

Now able to breathe normally without feeling sick, Harry leaned over the cauldron to peer inside. Simmering within a thin, yellowish solution, small pinkish leaves floated, spinning and swimming in the heat.

Harry gave a start when he recognized the plant. "Is that…?"

"Dragon's Tongue," Draco confirmed, his silver eyes shining almost manically. "Nearly killed myself trying to deactivate their explosive powers, but I finally figured it out." He reached over to his satchel and pulled out a large glass jar of murky, thick, gray liquid. He grabbed another cauldron with one hand and turned off the stove with the other, then poured the more viscous liquid inside, making sure to scoop out every last bit with a small spatula. With a tool that looked like a cross between tweezers and tongs, Draco carefully moved the dozen-or-so leaves of Dragon's Tongue one by one to the new mixture, where they dissolved.

Harry watched him work with fascination. Draco didn't look up once, his pale hands fluttering over the potions with intense precision. He stirred the mixture slowly, which rapidly changed from dark gray to a forest green.

"Corked vial," Draco said, holding out his hand. Unsure whether he was addressing him directly, Harry looked around for a vial, and one materialized on the counter. But before he could take it, the container flew into Draco's outstretched hand, and the Slytherin uncorked it as if nothing had happened.

"Did you use your wand for that?" Harry asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"For what?" Draco dipped the vial into the potion and filled it nearly to the top. "Oh, that. No. It's not all my magic, though." He jerked his head vaguely to the ceiling, apparently referring to the enchanted room itself. "All right. Here goes nothing." Corking the vial once more, he shook the potion violently. The liquid transformed immediately, expanding slightly and its shade shifting to an iridescent, rosy orange. "Perfect." Draco took off his facemask, Harry following suit, and the Slytherin held the potion to the light. He cleared both cauldrons with a wave of his wand and a muttered incantation. "So, Potter. How do you feel about a ninety percent chance of not getting blown to pieces?"

Harry blinked at him. "What?"

Draco smirked, carefully uncorking the vial again. A thin stream of golden smoke issued from the opening. "That was a joke. Even if it doesn't work, the chances of you dying are slim."

"I don't understand what you're asking me to do."

"A targeted, purely magical explosion," Draco murmured to himself. "It's never been done before, and barely attempted. If this works, it'll make history."

"Malfoy, what's this potion for?" Harry asked, raising his voice.

Draco held out the vial to him. "At this volume, throwing this will cause a medium-sized explosion. But if I did my calculations right, you should be completely unhurt. Don't worry; I've tried it before, and it worked for me. I just need to be sure that the effects transfer to someone other than the maker."

Harry nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll try it."

"Excellent. Now spit in it."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion, but Draco's expression was solemn. "All right…" Feeling a little foolish, Harry bent forward and gathered saliva in his mouth, dripping a bit of it into the vial.

Draco swirled the potion, whose shade began to change, and sealed it tightly. "Go stand over there."

"Over where? Oh." In the direction Draco pointed, a vast, high-ceilinged room swelled into existence. The floor and walls were made of stone, like the rest of the castle, but steel ribbed the ceiling to offer extra support.

Harry slipped off his outer robes and dropped them on the ground next to his schoolbag. He walked into the other room, voluntarily placing himself in danger's path - though, of course, that was nothing new.

"Ready?" Draco took a few cautionary steps backward and poised his arm to throw.

"Ready."

The vial flew, crystalline and golden, through the air. Harry saw and heard it land for a split second, then the glass shattered.

Fire and smoke slashed the air with the concentrated force of a hurricane. Harry threw up his arms on instinct to shield himself from the explosion. The cacophony of rocky debris flying through the air and clattering to the ground echoed through the giant chamber. Harry's body tensed, fully expecting to be hit with quickly moving rubble, but the air around him remained strangely undisturbed.

A haze of smoke and dust filled the air once the explosion had settled. Harry uncurled from his protective position, shoes crunching on the smaller pieces of wreckage. The antechamber of the Room of Requirement was hidden from view, and Harry squinted through the ashy air.

"Malfoy?" He called, his voice no longer echoing through the room. "Malfoy, are you okay?" In the few moments of silence that followed, Harry's heart jumped into his throat.

Then, rising from the wreckage like a ghost, Draco coughed and waved the smoke away. His shoulders and hair were grey with silt.

"I'm fine," Draco said, clearing his throat. He stepped through the rubble, lifting the hem of his robes off the ground so as not to trip. Once he was close enough to see Harry clearly, he gasped. "Potter, look at yourself!"

Harry examined his own uniform and gaped at its spotlessness. He ran a hand through his untidy black hair, but the palm came back clean. No pebbles, no ashes…nothing.

"Let me see," Draco spun Harry in a circle by his shoulders, then lifted his arms and patted his torso, rigorously examining him for any sign of damage. It was a strange sensation to have Draco's hands all over him, but Harry managed to avoid feeling too abashed, reminding himself that the contact was for scientific purposes only. "Nothing." Draco's face split into a wide grin. "It worked! You're perfectly fine, right? Nothing hurts?"

Harry shook his head, a bit astonished at that fact himself. He'd never heard of such a precise, damage-inducing spell, let alone potion. And the fact that the invention had come from a student with only secondary education was frankly… "Impressive," Harry said appreciatively, "That's really great magic, Draco, I've never seen anything like it."

Draco's silver eyes shone with pride and excitement. Then, caught up in the euphoria of his success, he suddenly took Harry into his arms. "Thanks a lot for helping," He said breathlessly.

"Oh…" Harry readily accepted the hug, his head naturally nestling in the crook of Draco's neck. "Erm…I didn't do much. But you're welcome."

The Slytherin pulled back a little, and it was then that Harry noticed the thin gash shining redly on his pale skin. "Malfoy, you're hurt," Harry murmured, his hand drifting to Draco's face. He thought he heard Draco's breath hitch as his thumb brushed his cheek - though perhaps that was just his imagination.

"Guess a rock hit me," Draco wrinkled his nose, "I hope it doesn't scar."

"You'd look pretty with or without a scar," Harry commented, then blushed as he realized what he said.

Draco tilted his head curiously. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Well…" Harry broke off into incoherent mumblings, ending with, "Yes."

Draco fought back a grin, though Harry could see the satisfaction in his silvery eyes. Then, with one hand, he gently tilted Harry's chin up and closed the distance.

Draco's lips, slightly chapped, tasted like smoke. The kiss was sweet but brief, and as soon as they broke apart, Harry wanted more. But then a question popped into his head, and it spilled out of his mouth in a rushed, tangled hurry.

"D'youwannagooutwithme?"

The Slytherin bit his lip in amusement. "Pardon?"

"Erm…" He just kissed you! Harry shouted internally. He obviously likes you, what are you afraid of? "Would you want to…go out with me sometime?"

Discomfort clouded Draco's eyes. "On a date? In public?"

"Not in front of other people," Harry said quickly. "I know you're not out yet - I'm not out either - but I just…I like spending time with you."

It was hard to read Draco's expression for the next few moments. Harry felt fourteen again, quivering in front of Cho Chang's confused stare as he asked her to the Yule Ball.

"I like spending time with you, too," Draco said finally. "But…to be honest, Potter, I'm scared. Of what will happen if we act like this out there." Outside the bubble of their aloneness, where people would see them as oddities. "I'm scared of what people will say, what they'll do, not just to me, but to you as well. You don't know," His voice shook slightly, "How deep a person's prejudice goes. Against non-purebloods and people even remotely related to Death Eater families. There's prejudice against people like us, too."

Hatred pressing in from all directions. Harry had seen it from the outside, had seen how it could tear families and friends apart. But still…he wanted to take the leap. He wanted to risk it.

"I'm not ready to go public with anything," Draco said, and he took Harry's hand. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you."

With you. It felt like a thousand hummingbirds lived in Harry's chest.

"In other words, yes. I'll go out with you."

"Oh! Um, cool. I'm looking forward to it," Harry said, and judging from the way Draco finally allowed himself to smile, he was too.