It had taken Harry a lot of sweet-talking to convince Madam Pomfrey to let him go back to the Gryffindor Tower, but finally he had managed to convince her that returning to normalcy would help him get better.

"Try not to come here back anymore this school year," she said drily.

"I'll give my very best," Harry assured her because he, indeed, had no intentions of returning here anytime soon, but she just shook her head and closed the door behind him. With a quick look around, Harry assured himself no one was hanging out in the hall and then pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag. Ron had brought his bag to the Hospital Wing a few days ago because Hermione thought he needed to do some "light reading" under her supervision, but, being Harry's best friend, he had (probably without informing Hermione) also slipped Harry's invisibility cloak into the bag.

Ignoring Madam Pomfrey's order to return straight to the Common Room and take no detours, he snuck into the Library beneath his invisibility cloak and meandered through the Restricted Section, looking for books on Parselmagic. Would it be written in Parsel? Could one even write in Parsel? For a second he amused himself with the image of lending his feather to Netha so she could write his Potions homework, but then he shook his head – maybe Marcus knew if such a book existed. Considering he was not the most studious type, he sure had an extensive knowledge of Dark Magic and its books.

When the Library was engulfed in darkness, he made his way down to the Slytherin Common Room. The old password Marcus had given him wasn't working anymore, so while he was waiting for someone to come by, he ran his fingers absentmindedly across the rough stone wall until his fingers touched cool metal. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a button-sized badge with the emblem of a snake, its tiny eyes glistening in the dim light of the torches. Could it be…?

He was not a Gryffindor (and almost a Slytherin) for nothing, so he hissed Open and almost laughed out loud when the wall trembled and the door to the Common Room opened – how convenient. Harry smirked to himself, wondering what the Weasley twins would give him if he opened the Slytherin Common Room at their convenience.

Luckily, the Common Room was almost empty, and no one noticed when the door opened and Harry slipped inside, gliding up the stairs without a sound and into Marcus' dorm – all curtains around the beds were closed already – who knew Slytherins were such good students who went to bed at reasonable times. Carefully, he opened the curtains to Marcus' bed – he had fallen asleep, a book on Vanishing Spells resting on his chest, a faint shimmer of Silencio glimmering around his bed. "Marcus," he whispered – surprisingly, he woke up immediately, grabbing for his wand.

"Who's there?"

"Who else calls you Marcus?"

"Potter?" Harry smiled and dropped the invisibility cloak as he settled on Marcus' bed. He hadn't expected Marcus to grab him and push him down, pressing him into the mattress so he couldn't move. "Don't you ever fucking do that again," he hissed, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark with anger, "how could you ever risk your fucking life for someone who doesn't even mean anything to you? Do you even know how worried I was?" At the end, his voice broke and he let go of Harry's wrists, curling his hands into fists and clenching his jaw.

"You risked your life, too," Harry said, feeling an unexpected burst of anger, "gathering from what I heard of Neville's and your conversations –"

"Because you – mean something to me – you mean so much – Potter, you fucking stupid –" Again, he broke off, grabbing Harry's face to smash their mouths together for a furious, heated kiss; and Harry threw himself into it eagerly, wrapping his arms around Marcus and pulling him as close as he could, digging his fingers into his back because he needed his warmth and his strength and his realness –

"Harry," Marcus whispered against his lips; and a little bubble burst inside Harry's chest, letting his anger dissipate and leaving behind an exciting tingle of warmth. "Harry, promise me you won't put yourself into such danger again – I never –" Again, he pressed Harry's mouth against his own for a desperate kiss that Harry eagerly responded to, his heart racing so very fast, making his blood thrum in his veins.

"I promise," he said and he meant it; he had never – no one had ever worried about him like this, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon surely wouldn't have blinked an eye if he had gone missing one night, and while he knew that his friends always worried about him, this had a very different feel to it, so much more raw and painful and all-encompassing and real.

"Promise me," Marcus repeated; "I promise," Harry said again and he felt like he was drowning, falling, only Marcus' hands and his warmth and his kisses holding him here; and a few fistfuls of fabric later, they were both naked and all that mattered was the heat and the touch of skin on skin and the kisses and the weight of Marcus' body pressing him into the mattress, their fingers clasping and their mouths finding each other as everything else around them fell away and they were but floating, shivering, living. A word sang in Harry's mind, but he dared not speak it, not while every fibre of his being was engulfed by the exhilarating feeling of being one; and in Marcus' eyes he saw something that hadn't been there before.

Marcus took a deep, shaky breath and slowly let himself sink back onto the bed; they were both out of breath, Harry's knees were weak and his whole body was so taken over by tingles he had to close his eyes; it was just because his mind had been almost overwhelmed by the Dark Lord and because he had spent so much time confined in the Hospital Wing and because of the emotional rollercoaster the last weeks and months had been, not because of anything else, he told himself.

"Alright?" Marcus murmured, cupping Harry's cheek.

"Yeah," Harry said hoarsely, not resisting and not opening his eyes when Marcus pulled the covers over both of them and drew Harry to his chest, wrapping his arms around him; and Harry wished he'd never have to leave this bed ever again.

Thankfully, Marcus didn't ask Harry any questions, he just held Harry, stroking his hair and his neck; and slowly, Harry felt himself relax, felt like he was letting go after holding his breath for a very long time, felt like so many tensions in his body slowly lessened, felt like he was sinking into sleep – actual sleep, not the potion-induced half-consciousness he had been in for the last few days or maybe even weeks. "Thank you for saving me," he mumbled, his voice more a slur because his face was pressed against Marcus' chest and because of the overwhelming tiredness that had overcome him. "The Dark Lord would've gotten me without you."

If possible, Marcus pulled him even closer, hugging him even tighter, and Harry could feel his heart racing. "And without Longbottom," Marcus said, his voice barely betraying his emotion, but Harry heard the slight shake in his gruff voice, "brave little bugger. Can't believe he just marched up to our Common Room and demanded for me to come outside." Harry smiled as Marcus told the little story of how Neville had come to find him; it was nice and light and perfectly outside of the unspoken horrors of that night. He knew they would have to speak about it, but not now, he told himself, not today; and he was more than grateful that Marcus didn't press the issue. "On that note, how'd you get in here? We have a new password."

"I told you the Hat almost put me in Slytherin," Harry mumbled, feeling comfortably lazy and tired and warm, "you think I'm not smart enough to figure out a way to get to my boyfriend?"

He could feel Marcus tense at the word and his own heartbeat sped up when he said it, his breath hitching in his throat. "Guess that's who I am," Marcus said roughly, "your boyfriend." He said the word slowly, as if tasting the syllables, and Harry smiled, shifting his position so he could kiss him; it was a deep, slow kiss that made him feel like he was floating, weightless and unburdened. When their kiss ended, they just looked at each other, Marcus cupping his cheek and Harry felt his heart beating so fast he thought it must jump out of his chest any second, and again there was the urge to say something, words burning in his throat, but when he opened his mouth, he just whispered "good night."

"Good night," Marcus said and there was something unreadable in his expression, but his usual scowl was softened, there was even the hint of a smile on his face.

xXx

"Oh Harry!" Hermione cried out when Harry showed up in the Great Hall, a few minutes after Marcus so they wouldn't be suspicious, "you're back!" She hugged him so fiercely he almost fell over and then seated him onto a free space between herself and Ron which made Harry wonder whether they'd kept it free for him all the time and his heart clenched for a second; and then Ron hugged him, patting his back.

"Good to see you're back, mate," he said, "our life was getting really boring, I think we haven't broken a single rule since you left."

"Don't you dare nullifying all the points I have gained in Transfiguration and Charms," Hermione said warningly; and Harry was more than glad that neither of them asked any probing questions. Neville, opposite him, greeted him warmly and told him that apparently a lot of teachers, even Moody, had asked about Harry; and then they spoke about the legendary Defence lesson Harry had missed where they had to shoot each other with Stinging Hexes which caused a heated discussion between Hermione and Neville about the best way to block these hexes.

"Thank you for the Cloak," Harry mouthed at Ron who grinned at him.

"Knew you could use that," he said, looking quite pleased with himself, "but I'm sure in exchange for that favour you'd like to tell me who you're taking for the Ball?"

Harry just shook his head at him; not yet. "Oh, the Ball!" Lavender cried out a few seats down from them. "Just two more days – I've heard rumours that the Wicked Sisters are going to play –" And immediately another intense discussion started because Fred and George had heard a very different rumour and Harry cursed at himself for having forgotten all about that because if he didn't know if he was ready yet – but then he remembered the tingling warmth that had filled him when he lay in Marcus' arms and oh, maybe he was ready…

"You got a way how to wake up Seamus?" Dean asked coolly when they got up to go to History of Magic – he hadn't spoken during breakfast and Harry had done his best to not look at him.

"I think I might have figured out a way how to help him," he said slowly – he had formed some ideas, but he wasn't sure yet how to act on them – but he knew that he had to, he knew he had to undo what he had done.

"See that you do," Dean said before storming off, not looking back at them.

"You'll find something, mate, I know that," Ron said, putting an arm around his shoulders, "if anyone could do it, it's you."

xXx

Later that evening, Ron, Hermione and he had settled down by the fireplace; Hermione had told Harry all about the subjects he had missed; she had even created a studying calendar for him for the next weeks so he could catch up on everything. "I'll of course help you, you can have all my notes, I already sorted them for you and noted down the references –"

"Hermione," he interrupted her, "thank you, for everything. Really. You didn't have to do… all of this."

She blushed and smiled shyly; "it made me feel like I could help you."

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it," Harry said, making her blush even more. After that, they sat in companionable silence for a while, only interrupted by Crookshank's purr while Hermione was stroking him. Around them, most students had already left to go to their dorms and the fire was slowly burning down, crackling.

And that was when Harry told them; he told them about his dreams, he told them about the darkness in his mind and that Dumbledore thought he had a connection with the Dark Lord, he told them about how he had plunged into the darkness to find a way to counter the curse that Seamus was under, how Hades had brought him to Godric's Hollow so he could be closer to the connection with the Dark Lord, and how Neville had come to save him. He didn't tell them that he had killed his parents as he shared the Dark Lord's mind, he didn't tell them that he often needed to look at his hands and curl them into fists and dig his fingernails into his palms to make sure they weren't claws, he didn't tell them that Hades had taken him to his parents' graves once more and about the soul-tearing pain that had overwhelmed him there. These, he thought, were things he wasn't ready to share with them yet because they wouldn't understand, only Hades would understand because he knew what Harry felt and because he could taste the taint of darkness and pain in his blood.

"But you're rid of him now, right?" Ron asked after a while, with a frown.

"The connection isn't completely broken," Harry said, "but I cannot feel him that strongly anymore."

"Because you call him the Dark Lord," Ron said calmly, his eyes cold and calculating. "You never used to."

"I –" Harry swallowed, his heart racing – did he? Had he? He hadn't realized, he had never thought about it, the title slipping from his lips so effortlessly – Marcus always called him that, Harry remembered, and Hades did, too.

"You might want to stop doing that," Ron said, "lest anyone thinks…"

People wouldn't genuinely think that he would ever join Voldemort, would they? But then again not even two years ago people thought he was walking around the school trying to kill Muggleborns at the tender age of fourteen, Harry remembered, so for the wizarding community, probably nothing was too farfetched. "I'd never –," he started hoarsely, but Ron already shook his head.

"Of course you wouldn't," he said, "Hermione and I know that, but not everyone else does. And you could have told us – we would have tried everything to help you, you know that, don't you?"

"I know," Harry said, "it's just…"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Hermione said, "we will always be there for you, Harry, we will always help you, no matter what."

"Always," Ron repeated and Harry felt the sudden urge to hug both of them and so they were caught in a somewhat awkward hug by the fire, but despite the tangled mess of their hug, Harry knew that he had true friends in them, knew that they would always stand by him.

"What you did was so brave," Hermione whispered, hugging him even tighter and Harry was more than glad they couldn't see his face, his eyes stinging and his heart overflowing with emotion.

xXx

Meet me by the Quidditch pitch at 7am, was all the note had said, not signed, but Harry had of course immediately recognized Marcus' barely legible handwriting. Rather curious, he snuck out of his dorm, this time smartly dressed in a jumper and a warm cloak as it was still dark and cold outside, taking the shortest route out of their window – flying brooms were probably the best invention wizards had ever come up with; that, and Quidditch, of course.

Marcus was already there, his tall figure looming in the shadows near the Slytherin stands, not looking into the direction of the castle. He didn't have his broom, Harry noticed, which was odd, considering they were by the Quidditch pitch. "What's up?" he asked, reaching for Marcus' shoulder.

"Potter," he acknowledged as he turned around; his arms were crossed, his breath came in white little puffs from the cold and his face was pale beneath the moonlight.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Harry asked, confused.

Something flashed in Marcus' eyes for the shortest moment, then his usual scowl returned. "There is no way to talk around this, Potter – Harry – I… this folly must end. We can't be – together. I can't be your –" But he broke off, didn't say the word.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his voice shaking. Just yesterday morning everything had been perfect, him waking up to Marcus kissing him and then lazing around in bed until his dorm mates had left, a warmth from inside that made everything seem so light –

"I'm sorry," Marcus said roughly. "Sorry about everything. Sorry about hurting you. Sorry about disappointing you again. Sorry about the Ball. But I can't –" He broke off, his hands curled into fists so firmly his knuckles turned white.

"Don't worry about the stupid Ball, we don't have to – it probably wasn't the best idea either way, we can keep it secret, no one has to know. Marcus – I don't understand –"

"No, we can't keep doing this," Marcus said hoarsely. "I'm sorry – I can't, it's too dangerous – my father, he will find out and then – well, probably I'm lucky if he just kills me, but he will use me to hurt you and I can't – I can't resist the Imperius like you can and the thought of hurting you –" He broke off, inhaling sharply.

"Dumbledore can protect you," Harry blurted. "I'll talk to him, he will find a way to protect you from your father."

But Marcus laughed hollowly.

"He can't even protect you, his little Golden Boy, from the Dark Lord who is half-dead while you are here at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's own protection – how do you expect him to do anything for me?"

"I will protect you," Harry said, his heart beating so fast as if it must burst from his chest any moment, it was stupid and he knew it, but he still had to say it, "I will fight him, I already won against him three times – granted, it was mostly luck, but I will fight the Dark – Voldemort again and your father, too, if I must."

"Don't call him by his name," Marcus said sharply.

"Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself," Harry bit back.

"That sounds like just the thing Dumbledore would say," Marcus said with a snort. "But no, Harry, I would never expect you – I could never – you don't know my father, Potter." He swallowed and turned away, staring into the distance. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "We can leave, today. Leave the country, leave the continent, find the most strongly warded place we can and wait until the war is over."

Harry shook his head. "I can't, I must stay. I… must kill Voldemort."

"Says who?"

"It is my duty," Harry said, remembering Hades' words, Death has chosen you to bring back the one who fled when no one must flee.

Marcus snorted. "Sounds like bullshit to me – something to make you do what they want."

"He will never rest until he has found and killed me," Harry said because he couldn't explain this to Marcus – not now, he couldn't even properly understand it himself – why would Death choose him?

"That much is true," Marcus said, "but it's a stupid idea anyway, I'm sorry. I won't leave – not now, at least. But I can't – we can't be anymore. I'm… I'm scared of what my father will do if he finds out – I'm sorry, but better to break it off now before we… before we…"

"Before we fall in love?" Harry finished. Speaking hurt, his throat was raw and his heart beat so loudly he could barely hear his own voice.

"Yes," Marcus said, roughly. "My father, you don't know… you don't know what he has done – he taught me what fear means and I –"

"I understand," Harry said even though he didn't – he understood Marcus' fear of his father, of course, but he couldn't comprehend that their relationship should end now. He forced himself to smile, a smile that made his face ache. "It's okay, Marcus, I understand. There's a war coming, me at the forefront, your father on the other side – it's okay."

"I'm sorry," Marcus said again, his voice was shaking so hard Harry could barely understand him, "I'm sorry, Harry." Suddenly, he took Harry by the shoulders and they kissed, like they had never kissed before because they both knew that this was their last kiss, Harry's fingernails digging into Marcus' neck to pull him down, Marcus' fist buried in his Harry's hair to pull his head back, his other hand pulling Harry to himself as close as possible; and Harry put his everything into this kiss, all his desperation and anger and confusion and sadness, and he wanted this to never end, Marcus all around him, his warmth, his scent, his strength; and he gasped when Marcus pulled back, not ready to let him go.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "I –"

Then he turned around and fled, leaving Harry standing there, his chest heaving with the intensity of their kiss, and their loss. Because no matter what Marcus had said, it was too late, Harry had already fallen in love.

xXx

A/N: Just when you thought I couldn't possibly overdo the drama anymore… next up: the Ball! xoxo