Hello. Once More. What can I say? I meant to update. I was gonna update but things-family drama, writer's block, mental heath have been a pain. Now we're in the holiday season and I'm planning a lot of things, including a few holiday stories. New stories. Chapter updates. I was planning on waiting to update until I got a few more chapters in. However I made you wait long enough for a chapter update. Also I would love some reviews.

Reviews make me happy. Reviews also give me life. Also *leans in close* reviews also equal FASTER updates. *winks*

Huge shoutout to FanofBellaandEdward and SensiblyTainted for the help with this chapter.


Chapter 48: The Harsh Light of Reality

The boy was beautiful.

An aura of serenity surrounded him, outlining his body, topping his head like a white-gold crown. An aura that drew attention to his pale skin that was radiant as a pearl. The lean, sharp angles of his face, of his bare chest and nipples that were as pink as his thin lips. That stunning head of pale, white hair.

So beautiful.

Almost as if he could read his thoughts, gray eyes fluttered open, dazed in sleep that slowly broke apart as warmth flooded into his gaze a he looked at him. A fond smile curved that pink mouth, his name spoken in a low breath. Harry.

A smile curved his mouth as he leaned closer to the beautiful boy and touched him. His hand glided down his cheek, across his nose, down his chin, and grasped onto his neck.

What...Harry tried to release his grip, he tried to pull away, but it was like communication between his thoughts and limb were out of sync. One demanded release, the other latched on. Tight.

Stop! Initial shock flared into fear in Draco's eyes as he covered his hands over Harry's, pulling away, shoving him back, struggling to break free. His attempts were futile as Harry's.

No, no, no! Stop! Harry commanded. PLEASE. STOP.

His hand loosened its' grip for a split second, lifting Harry's hope that it was over. That maybe it was just a spasm of muscle. His hope was butchered when his hand reclaimed its' hold and squeezed Draco's neck, so tight Harry felt the muscles staining. Felt the bones bending. One of Draco's hands flew to Harry's face, any trace of previous warmth gone from his face, and tried to push him away.

Beautiful, chimed another voice in Harry's head, dark mirth underlying the admiring tone. Beautiful as a bird.

No!

A beautiful, delicate bird, Voldemort continued.

The hand's grip tightened, squeezing the bones together, dimming Draco's fighting to wheezing gasps and weak struggling.

DON'T.

And like all beautiful, delicate birds, their wings eventually get clipped.

Harry felt rather than heard the sound of the chilling crack. Sounding as loudly as the crash his heart made, deformed into a mangled pulp, dropping all the way down to his toes

Draco's hollow eyes stared at him, his limp hands falling from Harry, onto the bed.

The price made, Voldemort continued over Harry's shock, his pain. For loving monsters like us.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, rattling like an imprisoned butterfly as his eyes snapped open, his heart beating so furiously, he grasped onto his chest to keep it in.

A dream, he told himself. It was just a dream. One hell of a nightmarish dream he hoped that was the last time he ever saw it.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked.

Harry turned to see him pressed against him, his chest to Harry's back. It was maddening seeing him alive and well while his dream-self was dead, those hollow eyes burning into Harry's mind.

I'm fine, the automatic words set on his tongue, ready to fire. The same words he had been saying over and over again the entire summer. He promised himself he wouldn't shut himself away, not with Draco.

"Nightmare." he finally answered.

"The Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded, a tight knot in his throat.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"I-"Harry sucked in a deep and swallowed hard, saying, "Later."

There was a second of silence, and then-"You promise?"

Harry nodded. "I promise."

Draco kissed the skin behind his ear, holding him tighter. He didn't offer reassurance. He didn't say it was okay when they both knew there was a storm waiting for them, waiting for Harry. But the simple action said more than words could, offered more comfort.

The set of arms around him, the feel of bare skin brushing against bare skin reminded him of everything that happened last night, easing the anxiety brought up by his dream. "So…last night?" he began, cheeks hot.

"Uh-huh." Draco finished. "It was-"

"I know." Harry nodded with a small smile, needing no other words. He cast a quick time spell, seeing it was a quarter to seven. "We better get ready for breakfast."

Harry stretched out his arms and worked to peel off the warm duvet from his body, then was yanked back into Draco's chest, arms snaking around him.

"Draco."

"Nooo." he whined.

A chuckle burst from Harry's lips "You know, we do need to eat."

"Five more minutes," he begged, his lips brushing against the back of his ear, trailing alongside his neck.

"We shouldn't." Harry tried to keep his wits about him. "There'll barely be anything l-le-left." That damn mouth was ruining his concentration, mapping out spots he didn't know were sensitive until now.

"Five." One kiss on his neck. "More." One kiss to collar bone. "Minutes." One soft, lingering kiss his shoulder blade that made sparks crackle up his spine.

Harry laughed again and then shivered as fingers raked down his side. He wondered what the school would think if they knew the cold Slytherin prince was actually a soft, lazy cat behind closed doors. "Alright, alright," He gave in with a sigh. "Five more minutes." He grabbed Draco's knuckle and kissed it.

He was rewarded with another kiss against his shoulder blade, and a firmer hold around his waist. Chuckling, Harry laid his head back down on his pillow.

Five minutes came and passed. Then five more minutes after that. Then five more after that.

When it was almost a quarter to eight and the chance of there being nothing left at the table but bran muffins, they finally pulled away from each other and got out of bed. Emptying bladders, brushing their teeth, taking a quick shower. There was an intense sensation hovering in the air afterward though as they were changing. Sharing a room for almost twelve years, they were used to changing with the other nearby, but now it was like they gained a sixth sense on each other. Hearing every rustle of clothes brushing against skin. Sensing every button tucked, every collar fixed. Catching glimpses of bare skin, patched with marks made from last night that added more fuel to the electric charge in the room.

Tugging on his sweater, it hit Harry that soon he'd be walking into what he feared about. Walking into a room and being surrounded by sharks thirsty for his blood, just waiting to see him squirm. He had a taste of that fear last night during the Welcoming feast. Merlin knew what he'd be waking into today.

Draco's hands slipped into his.

Stunned, Harry looked down at their hands before meeting his best friend's eyes.

"Is this okay?" Try as he might to appear nonchalant, Draco couldn't hide the sheepishness that crept in.

Harry entwined his fingers through Draco's, squeezing. "More than."

The relieved, soft smile Draco and the squeeze he got in return made any additional shite Harry would get worth it.

"So," Draco said once they got their bags together and set out to the common room. "I think I deserve a new title."

"A new title? Did you become the queen of England over the summer and didn't tell me?"

Draco squeezed his hand. "The royal family wishes I was part of their line."

Chuckles spilled from Harry's mouth. "Well, you're already my best friend-"

"And favorite person ever."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "And favorite person ever. Well, what about best mate?"

Draco hummed thoughtfully. "I don't mind that but I can think of a better one."

"What?"

"Boyfriend."

They walked straight into silence. Thick, heavy silence featuring jaws slacked, eyes widened, every Slytherin's attention on their entwined hands and Draco's recent word.

Oh…Merlin….

Harry was suddenly hit with great mourning of their warm, cozy bed. Maybe he should have skipped breakfast and stayed in longer like Draco wanted.

Blaise broke away from the stunned group, mouth agape, eyes locked on their hands before he turned back to their housemates and said, "Every single one of you saps owe me money!"

What?

Daphne marched over to him with a scowl and punched him in the arm. "Not so fast, Zabini. I believe half of those wages go to me."

"Alas sadly no," Blaise danced away from her next hit. "You bet that something would happen between fifth year before the holidays. I was set on fifth year, within the first school month since the sexual tension was getting as thick as Draco's ego. And Harry's obliviousness."

Harry choked on his saliva. Draco stammered beside him.

"So," Blaise went on, ignorant of their stunned state. "each one of you suckers owe me ten gallons."

"You mean to say-" Harry began.

"That you dolts betted on us." Draco finished.

As if the moment couldn't get any more bizarre, Crabbe of all people who most times was out of reality, attention typicalled fixed on food or a game, looked at them both in sympathetic exasperation, as if they only just crossed the finish line the rest of them have made hours ago. "We've been wondering, guessing, and betting on when you two would finally get together since second year."

"Then the stakes got higher last year after the second task at the Tournament," Goyle added. "When you raced into the lake and Draco came out looking like a wet cat."

"A very angry, hissing wet cat." Theo muttered under his breath. Pansy looked like she was about to chuckle, but caught herself and looked away, arms folded against her chest, remembering who said the comment and the fact she was still mad at him.

Daphne gave a small smile. "I mean the way you two are, attached to the hip, always together, we figured it was a matter of time."

"And the fact Malfoy looked like he was about to have an orgasm when Potter broke into snake mood." Blaise rolled his eyes. "Sexual tension was so thick, I was suffocating under it. But no matter," He smiled. "You two finally got your heads out of your arses and are together. More importantly, thanks to you numbskulls, I am now a very rich man."

"And still an idiot." Theo muttered.

Blaise smirked. "A very rich idiot."

Theo rolled his eyes.

Pansy marched over to Harry and Draco. She smacked Harry in the arm so hard that pain spread over to the other arm. "I had better be the maid of honor to the wedding." She then whirled around to Draco and struck him just as hard, hitting him so hard his bag's strap fell from his shoulder. "And I had better be the godmother to one of your kids."

Wedding? Kids?!

"Preferably first born or first daughter." Pansy waved a dismissive hand, shrugging. "Whichever comes first."

Of all the ways their friends and housemates to react to news of them being together, it definitely wasn't what Harry had in mind. He feared hostility. Not because they were both blokes since they were dozens of same-sex couples in their house, including their former Captain Flint who got together with Wood before the two graduated. But because he was the Boy Who Lived whose every move was heavily scrutinized, especially now. He hoped acceptance, which apparently came through with a bet on top of it.

"I demand to know every detail," Pansy said. "How is happened, where it happened, who made it happen. Everything."

Embarrassment burst across Harry's cheeks in the blushing, flaming pink, remembering the place and the events that started their new relationship.

"We should have stayed in our room." Draco hissed in his ear.

"Wanna make a break for it?" Harry joked.

Shocking as the warm welcome was, along with the surprising un-surprise that came along, with the bet on top of it that his mind was still wrapping around, Harry was glad for it. So far none of his friends, none of his housemates acted any differently towards him. After their arrival, the rest of the Slytherins broke into mini groups with their friends, leaving the tower, going back to their dorms. His friends teased them for their flushed cheeks, their hands that were locked together, and Harry's clear embarrassment and Draco's obvious annoyance. Yet it all felt normal. No one brought up Cedric, Voldemort, or what the papers had been saying about him. It gave him hope that maybe his decision to come back to Hogwarts was a right one. That the tense, awkward ambush he walked into last night was just a one-time thing, people seeing for themselves how he was faring, then moving on. That things were going to be okay.

That hope sparked when his friends got their bags and walked out into the hall, like a normal school morning.

That hope flared as they walked down the halls and corridors that were blissfully empty, Draco's hand warm in his, feeling his happiness seeping into Harry's skin.

That hope died a horrible, brutal, fiery death the second they walked into the Great Hall, and instantly Harry was bombarded by hundreds of stares and whispers, making him feel like a fly under a microscope, the glare burning through his skin. The whispers the sharp tools that were ready to cut him open.

The sharks were alive and well. And they were hungry.

Dear God, Dear Merlin, he was stupid. He was stupid to actually think this school year would be alright after the mess that was created last year.

It then dawned on Harry that many of the probing eyes were lowering to his hand that was entwined with Draco's. Harry's became limp, slipping through Draco's hold, then falling to his side.

Draco looked over at him, surprise and hurt heavy in his eyes.

There would be more questions, more stares, more rumors that would lead to a bombfire, reaching the attention of Skeeter who'd have more dirt over him. And…

Harry didn't give a shite.

To hell with it.

He reclaimed Draco's hand again with one hand and used the other to cup his face, bringing him into a kiss. A deep, thorough kiss he hoped was clear to Draco, and to the rest of him, that he didn't give a damn what they had to say.

I won't hide this, Harry stated with a firm kiss. I won't be ashamed of it, he said, biting down on his lower lip. I won't run from it, he answered with a slow caress of his tongue, swallowing Draco's startled gasp and the rest of the sounds that followed afterwards.

Sure, he could still hear the whispers, buzzing like a swarm of bees, but that was all white noise to him; simple background music to keep the moment from slipping into total silence. That didn't matter to him. Not as much as this moment did, this warmth, these kisses, the pleasure he could feel humming in Draco's body and transferring over to him.

He eased away from Draco, the boy's flustered cheeks causing pleasure to stir in his stomach. "Was that okay?"

Despite his flustering, Draco still pulled out a snort, faint traces of a smile lining his mouth. "That has to be one of the dumbest things you've ever asked me. Well," He stopped for a moment. "At least one of top three."

The sound that came out of Harry was both a chuckle and a laugh.

"So," The two looked over at Blaise who took one step forward. "You two couldn't have done that earlier in the common room and help make my victory sweeter?"

Harry felt warmth rushing to his cheeks. "Shut up, Blaise."

"Or at the very least wait until we got to the table, so I can have a show to go with my breakfast?"

"Shut it, Zabini!" Draco snarled, grabbing hold of Harry's hand and leading them to the table.

Chatter continued on around them, although it wasn't as hard to guess what-or rather who-was the subject of conversation, given the glances aimed over at the Slytherin table, Harry, their entwined hands.

"I must say, Potter," Pansy spread some raspberry over her toast. "I never would have pegged you as a PDA kind of boy." She glanced over at Draco. "Or you."

Draco shrugged while Harry focused on stirring his eggs and sausages bites together. "Just felt right."

"I personally think it was a good call," Blaise said. "After all the best way to kill one scandal is to create a new one."

Harry grimaced. That wasn't his intention of kissing Draco. He did it to show that they were together, and nothing was going to stop that, no matter what anyone or Rita Sketeter had to say about it. At the moment, though, it looked like people were done staring and were focused on eating, but a good amount of eyes still watched him. Dumbledore watched him with a slight but unmistakable frown; either one of concern or disapproval, he wasn't sure. Snape's left brow arched, his face giving away nothing. Umbridge's lips were set in a thin, thin line. Ron and Hermione's faces were matched in shock, skepticism, and betrayal.

Harry internally winced. That was definitely one conversation he wasn't looking forward to. For the fourth time he wished he stayed in the room with Draco, warm and safe in their bed, instead of heading into the long day that awaited him.

Little he did know how long it would be.

~...~

History of Magic was dull as usual with Professor Binns reciting for them every line, every footnote of the five chapters of Magical theory they'd be studying for the upcoming week, sending more than half the class into dreamland. In Charms Professor McGonagall emphasized the upcoming NEWTS they would be taking next year and it was time for them to start thinking on their future, on where they want to be ten years from now.

A question that left a foul taste in Harry's mouth.

When they entered the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, it was thankfully clear of Umbridge so the students entertained themselves by picking their seats and relaxing. Some were catching up on the leftover sleep from History of Magic, some were clustered in giggling and whispering circles. Goyle created a small paper bird that was soaring throughout the class, nearly colliding with some of students' faces, zooming up towards the sky. Sitting beside Harry, Draco grabbed hold of his hand as he looked over notes from their earlier class, which brought the first smile to his face the whole day.

Unable to help himself, Harry brought Draco's hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckle. Draco pulled away from his reviewing long enough for Harry to spot the gentle smile warming his eyes. Then quickly broke apart when Goyle's paper bird zoomed through the small space between them, nearly scraping Harry's cheek. Their friend burst into laughter from the heat of their twined glares.

His papery bird then burnt into crisps mid-air, sprinkling like grayish snow as Umbridge walked into the classroom, calling attention to the back of the room. Lowering her wand that was faintly billowing smoke, a smile of pure satisfaction at the ashy remains of the bird, she easily strolled over to her desk.

"Good afternoon, class." she greeted pleasantly.

A few people mumbled 'good afternoon' in reply. She clicked her tongue distastefully.

"That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her in flat monotone.

"Much better," she grinned; the strong sweetness filling her tone made Harry ill. "Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled out a quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."

Must have slipped her mind that barely any of their past DADA teachers lived long enough to see through making sure the class were up to speed. Out of the ones they had, a follower to Voldemort, a self-absorbed peacock who wouldn't know how to put up a shield charm if a herd of Death Eaters surrounded him, Remus was the only one who seemed like he knew what he was doing.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year."

Harry didn't like sound of that one bit.

"Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge", or "No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good. Now then, turn to page five and read Chapter One, Basics for Beginners-"

"Excuse me."

Umbridge's eyes widened at the interruption, then narrowed into cool slits she looked to the source of it, which was no other than Hermione who returned Umbridge's cool look with one of her own. "Hand," The word sounded like a harsh lash that made Harry's skin bristle. "up if you have a question, young lady."

Hermione's hand shot up. Umbridge's too-pleasant smile darkened to a barely-concealed frown.

"Yes, Ms…?"

"Granger," she answered. "Hermione Granger."

"Ah, yes, the bright Muggle-born witch. I've heard quite a lot about you." When one of the students said it like that, it reeked of taunting. When Umbridge said it, it sounded much worse. "And what, Ms. Granger, do you have a problem with?"

"Well, for starters," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard, eyes bouncing from there to Umbridge and Hermione.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"As I just explained, students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. –?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry immediately rose his hand along with Hermione's. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?'

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but–"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

"So the Ministry won't let us learn how to defend ourselves?" Shock spread through the classroom as the question burst from Neville; steel coating his gaze, his tone. "Against the possible threat we're facing?"

Umbridge took one look at his face and burst into laughter. Harry clenched his teeth, his fists from the sound. For a moment the laughter turned to two, then ten, then twelve, until it was a chorus of malicious, dark laughter surrounding him as he was at their master's mercy.

"We're not playing hide and seek, Harry." Voldemort said over the roar of laughter. "Come out and play."

A tightness grabbed hold of his throat, spreading to his chest, his stomach, his limbs.

Draco placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, slowly pulling him back from those memories. When he caught Harry's eye, he gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, expression grim but eyes determined, as if he could tell where Harry's mind had gone. Where it went back to.

"The threat we're facing?" Umbridge mimicked, having herself a good laugh. "Who in the world would want to harm such innocent children as yourselves?"

"Oh I don't know," The words dripped from Harry's mouth, chipped and flat. His cool expression matched them evenly as he said, "Maybe Voldemort."

Silence plunged into the classroom with a loud halt. Breaths were sucked in, choked mid-draw. Crabbe broke into a shudder. Blaise grasped onto the sides of his desk as if he needed an anchor. Lavender Brown uttered a little scream. Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Hermione's widened eyes flew over to him. Color drained from Umbridge's face, splashes of red filling her cheeks. Her lips curved, but the smile was trembling as an unsteady hand, outrage breaking through the cheery veil.

"What," she demanded. "Did you just say, Mr. Potter?"

"So sorry, Professor Umbridge," Harry managed an even, almost-pleasant tone with a smile to match while his blood boiled underneath his skin. "Would you rather I say You-Know-Who? He Who Must Not Be Named? The Dark Lord? Unless there's another name the Ministry came up with as their smoke screen to hide behind?"

A chuckle ripped through the silence, followed by another, then another, breaking through the shocked cloaking over the class. Harry noticed most of those laughs were from the Slytherins sitting beside and near him. Draco's hand disappeared from his shoulder to his back, pressed against the center, but Harry felt tension stiffening the limb.

Umbridge didn't look the least bit amused. "Let me make something be perfectly clear, Mr. Potter. The Ministry has nothing to hide. We take all matters of developments and threat seriously, and once we give our word on something, including the nonexistence to a threat you seem to be convinced is somehow active, why it's almost insulting-"

"Insulting indeed," Draco commented. "Insulting how the Ministry is sure of their weigh in words. When the fact of the matter is, the certainty of their word is the same as their consideration for the public: utterly cheap. And as strong as flimsy paper."

Shock and gratitude shot through Harry, filling his chest. At the moment, he was hit with the strongest urge to kiss Draco right then and there. The smirk on Draco's said that he saw the desire and shared in it as well.

"There is no threat!" Frustration, flinching and biting, exploded from Umbridge's words, causing several students to flinch or wince. She took in a deep breath, walked over to the center of the classroom, and faced them again with a smile. "Let me make one thing clear. There is not now nor will they ever be a threat in the future. You are all perfectly safe, despite what some fanatics have to say in the matter."

Harry clenched his teeth to hold in the words boiling in his tongue.

"You've been told that the Dark Lord has somehow resurrected again, but I must ask." Umbridge spread her arms wide. "Where's the proof? Supposedly the Dark Lord has returned and yet there hasn't been a spotting of him or his followers."

"What about the dark mark showing up at the World Quidditch Tournament?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Maybe Minister Fudge was so traumatized by his near death," Pansy commented. "That he completely blanked out."

"Well with a lightning bolt missing you by an inch and piss pouring down your ankle, I'm sure that's enough trauma to last a lifetime." Blaise snickered.

"That," Umbridge cut in. "no doubt was the practical joke done by some fool with too much time on their hands."

A practical joke that turned a day of fun into complete chaos, where there was so much wreckage, so much dark magic, it was a miracle the large number of injuries didn't turn into a vast one. Or included deaths.

"What about the missing Muggles?" Hermione demanded. "This past summer, there had been a large number of disappearances. You can't simply dismiss that as coincidence."

"No Ms. Granger, I cannot. What I can and do and will dismiss it as a matter for those under Muggle authority to handle. The Ministry's interest has always been on the wizarding world, and only the wizarding world."

Hermione's face was so outraged, glare so sharp, it was a shock Umbridge was still standing.

"Any other questions?" Umbridge asked, her overly-sweetness returning to her tone, running like sticky caramel.

"Just one," Harry said, aware of the stares burning into his head. "What about what happened to Cedric? Are you calling that a coincidence too?"

Umbridge frowned at him. "Why, of course not, Mr. Potter. We are not calling the death of Cedric Diggory a coincidence."

Harry restrained on the snort threatening to come out. Well thank Merlin for that at least.

"We are calling it as it was. A tragic accident."

Harry's blood chilled to ice. An accident? That was what they were calling Cedric's death? An accident? As if the boy had simply fallen and permanently broken something. As if it was a simple case of being there at the wrong place, wrong timing. As if he wasn't struck down by a madman who barely glanced his direction. As if he barely had time to speak, to prepare his final words, before he hit by a bright flashing green and tumbled to the ground as a soulless thing, his hollow eyes-

Draco's hands smacked own against Harry's, holding it tight. He looked up at his best friend's, his boyfriend's eyes that were fierce and concerned and bright and sympathetic.

Don't feed into it, his gaze warned. Or to Umbridge. She's just baiting you.

At the moment, the problem wasn't Umbridge. It was Harry's own mind that he was worried about, and the memories that could spring up any moment, trapping him in their suffocating grip and dragging him down.

"I will say this once and only once," Umbridge said. "The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. That is the truth," She glanced at Harry and walked to his desk, standing before him, her smile overwhelmingly sweet while her eyes were hard. "And the only truth we should be concerned about. Isn't that right, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's skin burnt from the stares burning holes into his skin. It was a trick question. He knew it, they knew it, and she most definitely knew it, which was why she decided to ask it. If he denied the claim, then that would further prove the Ministry's claims of him being nothing more than the boy who cried Wolf. If he agreed, then he was a liar. Either way, in the eye of the public, he would look guilty of something: either creating panic or wild stories.

Harry took in a deep breath, making sure his expression was calm and flat. His tone even as he answered, "I agree, Professor Umbridge."

Triumph glowed in the woman's eyes, curled her smile. "Splendid," she said. "So happy we got that matter out of the way."

She walked over to her desk.

"I agree that the truth is nothing more than one's own preferred alternation to actual reality."

Shock was slapped onto each and every one's of the students' faces: total, pure shock. Umbridge stared at him coldly for a second, before she turned her attention back to the class.

"If you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners."

~…~

Harry thought no year was more awful than last year, thanks to the whole Tournament fiasco with his name being added to, then picked from the damn cup. He was made public enemy number one in the school, in the media, being branded as a desperate attention-hog, getting hurled by vicious whispers and stares and rumors that followed him everywhere.

This year was starting out to be just as terrible as last year. Only now he wasn't a hated, supposed-backstabbing snake. He was the feared, delusional boy who called Wolf. Or rather Voldemort. A feared, deranged boy whose arrival, his long silence, his stunt from this morning at the Great Hall, along with his showdown with Umbridge that already circled around the school before the class was even dismissed, causing an array of curiosity and skepticism.

He wondered if he should start a bet with his friends on the likelihood of today's events leaking to the Daily Prophet. He wouldn't be surprised if by tomorrow morning Skeeter released another new expose on him.

"Cheer up, Potter," Pansy said as they walked back to their dorms after a late class of Advanced Runes, a class he didn't know existed until he saw it on his schedule. "It's only the first day back."

"Whoopie," Harry rolled his eyes.

She giggled. "Is it a terrible thing that while I greatly sympathize with you, I am happy that the spotlight is off me?"

Any other person, Harry would have hexed them for the comment. However if there was anyone who shared in his misery from gossip from last year, it was Pansy who came under heavy fire after the mess at the Yule Ball.

"No," he admitted. "I can't say I blame you. Though I don't suppose you'd want it back. Just for awhile." Or the rest of the semester, he thought dryly.

The sound that hissed from her lips was a cross between a snort and giggle, perfectly answering that question for him. "Not anytime soon, darling, but just wait. This school is sad and the people in it are pathetic, needing a morsel of gossip to keep their lives interesting. I guarantee you they'll be switching from talking about you and your accusations from me and the boys I possibly slept it within the week."

"The Boy Who Lied and the Hogwarts Harlot," he said, and then knocked his shoulder against her, a slight smile breaking across his face. "We make quite a pair."

Pansy swatted his arm, but the smile she wore let him know she didn't mind the tease-at least coming from it. Anyone else would be needing snitches. "Not true. You and Draco already make a speculator pair."

Harry's grin, as much as he tried to suppress it, broke through. His cheeks warmed. "Shut up."

Pansy giggled, knocking into his shoulder. "I wasn't lying about what I said at breakfast. I want details." She grabbed his arm and looked up at him, batting her eyes so crazily chuckles spilled from Harry's mouth. "I want details and I want them now."

"It's a long story-" A sound cut him off. A choir of sounds, hissing and grunting mixed together in what sounded like gurgling, tongue-twisting Pig latin.

Harry turned around. Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor who was in their year, dressed in all black with a white collar breaking the color scheme, rattling a large cross with silver rosary wrapped around it in his hand, speaking gibberish-practically yelling it as he walked over to Harry.

He tried turning left and McLaggen followed. Turned right and he was there, grunting and hissing, waving the cross and rosary around, nearly hitting Harry in the face, calling a large crowd over to them. Not that it stopped McLaggen, stepping closer and closer to Harry, waving the rosary-wrapped cross around like he was performing a drastic spell.

Harry's back hit the wall with hard thud, with little room to escape from. Irritated, he smacked the cross away, then shoved McLaggen-admittedly but shamelessly harder than what was needed, secretly pleased by his slight stumble. "What the hell?"

"Uh." McLaggen glanced down at the cross "My cousin told me this thing drives out evil spirits and forces. Clearly the evil force is strong in you, Potter."

Harry's skin bristled.

"Thought adding the rosary would help. Maybe I should have gotten some holy oil, although I don't know if it's strong enough to drive out lying lunatics."

Harry shoved McLaggen so hard that he did stumble, nearly falling onto his arse, the cross flying from his hand. "Funny."

"I thought so." McLaggen smirked, then yelped as his dark hair stood straight up towards the ceiling, strands coming together, tying into a thin braid that smacked into his face when it was finished.

Pansy stepped beside Harry, tapping her wand against her palm. "Since you're the reigning king of jackasses, I thought I should complete the look by giving you a tail."

McLaggen swiped the braid away and glared at her. "That's rich coming from you, slut! I don't think there's enough holy water in all the world to wipe away your filthy, cheap sins."

Harry charged at him, but someone grabbed hold of his elbow, pulling him back. Neville of all people who shook his head, warning him to remain calm.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall demanded, striding down the hall.

"These two snakes attacked me!" McLaggen pointed a finger at them. "Potter and his pet whore."

"Liar!" Pansy seethed. This time Harry and Neville worked together to hold her back.

"They're a danger to my well-being, all our well-being. Especially him." McLaggen pointed at Harry again. He gestured towards his attire. "I was just trying to do the Good Lord's work and cleanse the evil out."

"Bullshit!" Harry barked.

McGonagall scowled. "Ten points from Slytherin for irrational behavior." She whirled over to McLaggen and said. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for starting the altercation and your foolishness, along with an additional ten points for mockery of the Church."

"What?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Five more points for questioning authority."

"I didn't-"

"Would you care for it to be raised to ten?"

McLaggen's face was so flushed, it took on a dark purple color. It was as if he was choking from his anger, right eye twitching, gurgled words spitting from his mouth. His eyes flashed back to Harry, exploding in anger.

"He shouldn't even be here in the first place!"

"I suggest you stop while you're ahead-"

"Why? Cause it's the truth? Cause I'm saying something we all know, we all think? Guess what? He shouldn't be. Seamus said his mom and a bunch of other parents complained to Dumbledore about Potter coming back this year. Don't what his nonsense spreading around like the plague. He says You-Know-Who is back, but there's no proof. No evidence. No one's seen anything."

"You are on very, very thin ice-"

"Hell, I wouldn't be shocked if Potter just killed Diggory himself. We already know he's a psychopath. Won't be long before Malfoy whines up as the next corpse."

Harry could vaguely make out the stares and chatter. He could make out McGonagall listing out every grueling chore McLaggen would be serving in his detention with McLaggen protesting each step. He could feel Pansy tugging him at his sleeve so they could leave. But the sounds were so faint, almost as if he were underwater. He heard but didn't listen. Sense but didn't respond. But he did stare. He stared at McLaggen's discarded cross with rosary lying feet away from the boy. Stared at the clear-silver beads, the white sting holding it together. Stared and thought of the dozens of the other ways it would serve better use.

Punish him.

Yes, those beads could come in much better use. Multiple uses. Firstly teaching McLaggen to watch his mouth.

Punish him.

Let him know that the words came with a price and were expected to be paid in full.

Punish him.

A soft gray light glowed from the cross pedant, the charm rattling, before the light spread from bead to bead, all trembling, its' color changing from clear-white to pitch-black, their rattling a pleasant song only Harry could hear. The rattling then ceased in exchange for movement. In the midst of chaos, no one noticed the rosemary moving on its' own, untangling from the cross and slowly slithering towards McLaggen, crawling up his ankle, his leg, disappearing behind his back.

McLaggen, lost in his argument with McGonagall, barely noticed a thing. Until the rosemary wound itself around his neck in a tight grip, turning his arguing into gasps, then wheezing. Stunned, McLaggen tried to pull the rosary off, but the more he tugged, the more the beads gripped onto him, pressing so tightly against his neck Harry could see the dark-red bruises forming onto the boy's skin before seconds before the stench of burning flesh filled the air. The beads morphed from black to searing orange, wisps of smoke curling from them. The bruises expanded, rotten skin slowly crumpling away to reveal burnt flesh.

The wet, desperate hacking from McLaggen's throat was such a fascinating sound. His hopeless struggling was a delightful show. Truly delight, with the tips of his fingers darkening to charcoal as he continued to struggle against the burning rosary, the bruises on his neck growing to the size of a baby fist.

The screams, the panic, the fear in the other students added more pleasure to the sweet music buzzing in Harry's head. It was strange that the panic even existed in the first place, along with the useless tears and sobs coming from some of the swine who moments ago were hungry sharks, delighting in his own misery. Idiots, all of them. The bastard deserved it. Justice was merely being delivered.

"Punish him." Tom's words were so soft yet rang with such perfect clarity, as if he were standing beside Harry, admiring the show along with him.

A curl lifted the left corner of Harry's mouth. Yes, yes, he should punish. First him, then the rest of them. To show that he wasn't helpless, that he would never be helpless. He would never be caught off guard again. Never be pinned down and tortured while dozens watched, dark laughter chiming around him like sickening bells. Never-

"Glacius!" The burning rosary turned to a chain of ice, thanks to the charm McGonagall blasted. Another spell from her knocked the chain off McLaggen's neck, singeing it into crisps before it hit the ground.

McLaggen toppled to the ground, one hand pressed against his ruined neck, nearly choking as he attempted to breath. Two of his friends rushed over to him, trying to help. McLaggen's eyes searched for Harry, all traces of amusement wiped clean from his face, leaving behind only fear. Pure fear.

Fear that bounced from student to student as eyes glanced from McLaggen to Harry, Harry to McLaggen, backing away, grasping onto each other like the next one would be wearing a scorched necklace.

"Take Mr. McLaggen to the hospital wing immediately," McGonagall said. "Then inform him, after he's treated, to report to my office to begin his week-long detention."

Each friend grabbed the boy his elbow and hoisted him up, taking him away.

"As for the rest of you, I suggest you make yourselves scarce unless you wish to join him in detention and cost your houses points."

Slowly the crowd dispersed, but not without many of the students stealing glances at Harry.

"Mr. Potter, while I don't agree with McLaggen's antics, responding with violence is never the answer. One hundred points from Slytherin for attacking a student, and an additional one hundred for using dark magic."

Shock slammed into Harry like a hard punch to the gut, dulling his senses. Dark magic? He used dark magic? Without casting a spell?

"Potter? Potter, are you alright?" McGonagall reached over for his shoulder.

Harry backed away before she could touch him. He studied her face that was marred in concern, at Neville whose face was pale white, at Pansy who held a trembling hand against her mouth, and took off. All the while listening to the chilling laughter that haunted his dreams ringing in his head.