Part III- Webweaving


Ron sat, eyeing the clock on the wall, his head in his hands. How come the second hand seemed to be going backwards? The clock ran on magic, but did that mean that it had to act funny?

Professor Binns' droning voice had lulled the class into its customary stupor, until….

The class breathed a sigh of relief as Binns stopped his tedious reading and gave them their homework. It was the only lesson in which the pupils waited eagerly for this assigning of extra work. They drew themselves away from the doze, filing out the classroom, left with the exhaustion aftermath of a semi-coma.

Ron, Harry and Hermione lingered in the doorway for Florence to say goodbye to her Ravenclaw mates. She joined them and they walked slowly down the corridor, talking about the Weird Sisters and their forthcoming appearance in the Three Broomsticks.

"Well, Ysabell said that they are thinking of charging people to enter…Oh dear God."

The other three followed her shocked expression to the tall cloaked figure, marching towards them. The jet-black fabric billowed around him as he strode towards them, long legs stretching out before him.

Hermione gasped.

"It's Snape."

He had apparently undergone some miraculous transformation; his hair was cropped short and clean (!!!), he had donned a very smart black outfit with a jade lining and silver fastenings, and he looked a lot more alive than usual- the sallow tint of his skin being diminished.

When he approached, however, the familiar sneer was still there to greet them.

"Potter, Weasley, a word if you please."

They began to follow him, in stunned silence, barely offering the girls a farewell. What had he done to himself? All four of them were bewildered and overwhelmed by his new-found good looks. And they all had to acknowledge (reluctantly) that he *did* have good looks. A long nose, high brow and refined cheekbones, but it was the intelligent, cynical and cruel glint in his eye that make him traffic stopping, it was always there but now it seemed to twinkle at them with a coyness.

He led them down the maze of corridors.

"I heard that you two brought Draco Malfoy in here yesterday."

Harry and Ron nodded, waiting expectantly for the unexpected…and here it came.

"If you have anything to do with Malfoy's illness, I will personally take the matter straight to the headmaster. If you think that you can get away with beating Malfoy and, placing blame, and blackmailing him into secrecy, then you have another thing coming. Do you understand me?"

The boys gaped at him.

"We didn't…how did you come to that conclusion?"

"It is not difficult to heal bruises and wounds, Weasley. All it needs is a little research and half a brain…then again, being you…"

Harry opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it.

"One more thing." Snape said as they neared the staff room. "I want you to take Malfoy his Potions homework for me. Wait out here." With that, Snape stepped inside the staff room to retrieve the parchment.

Harry turned to Ron with a dumbfounded expression.

"What was all that about?"

"Yeah." Responded Ron. "I never thought I would say this, but he looks hot."

"I meant," Harry said, smirking. "About blaming us for Malfoy's faint, when we're the ones who helped him."

"Oh, yeah." Ron said, ears turning pink. "But I suppose it was us, I mean he did catch us…in the act. And that's why he fainted…what a homophobic idiot."

"Shhh…"

The door creaked open after a minute, and Snape handed them the scroll.

"He's in the hospital wing. You can visit him now, I have given my permission to Madame Pomphrey."

Harry and Ron made their way to the hospital wing, talking in irate voices.

"Permission! You would think he was doing *us* a favour."

Harry pushed open the infirmary doors and looked around for a head of blonde hair. He spotted Draco lying in the far corner, staring with nonchalance at the ceiling. They went over to his bedside and dropped the scroll on the bed-side table.

Draco had spent the last night thinking about his reaction to the scene he had witness, and although unwilling to admit it, he knew inside that he was attracted to Harry. It was the anger that confused him. The anger had been intense and overpowering; both a sharp cut and a dull ache, but why was it there? Draco had pondered over this all night. He had prided himself on his level-head and rational thinking, yet he couldn't concentrate on the reasons behind the emotion when the effects were still so clear in his mind.

The morning had come with a certain amount of understanding; he knew that he wanted Harry, and he was jealous. He was jealous of their relationship, of Ron's claim on Harry, and the ease with which Ron could touch Harry- kiss Harry.

Being the ambitious Slytherin that he was, Draco had laboured all afternoon to come up with a way in which to over-come his problem. He could ignore his problem. But that would eat him up inside, devour him slowly. And so would thinking about it. This really was a dilemma.

He had to find out what he wanted. He had to find out what Harry wanted- what could happen. And he had the beginnings of an answer. Quite a few years ago, just before Draco was old enough for Hogwarts, he had been in his father's study. It was forbidden of course to touch his father's things, but Draco was an inquisitive young boy and always hungry for knowledge- even more hungry for prohibited knowledge. His father had gone on one of his long over-seas trips and Draco was alone in the house with only the house elves for company. He had taken the opportunity to look at the books on his father's shelf, and so he came to know about a certain dark-arts volume.

He had turned each page, becoming more and more enthralled by the ideas and notions concealed there. He was, as a youth, more interested in the gruesome spells. And only now, looking back, he realised the full potential, the possibilities hidden within those pages. It was all dangerous, he knew. They all the charms and potions had effects and consequences, but wasn't it worth it for this?

Fate had handed him the perfect opportunity. He was going to be on his way in just a few hours for recuperation time, and now, a little sneaking around.

This was dark magic. Evil- its danger was in its disguise as innocence.

It was so very innocent- just a journey, with no damage to the victim.

Harry wouldn't be hurt.

Draco was going to play with his unconscious. Draco was going to play with fire.

He was awoken from his thoughts, but a movement to his left. Draco turned his head to see his mind's intruders. And there they were- Harry and Ron. Together.

"Potter, Weasley." He said silkily.

"Malfoy." Ron replied coldly.

"Your potions homework." Harry indicated the parchment resting on the table.

"Why, thank you. Just what I've always wanted."

"Snape sent us, Malfoy. We didn't ask to come here." Ron added.

Harry looked over the pale boy as the tennis match of insults began to ensue. He felt like there were so many things unresolved. He needed to talk with Draco, and soon. The boy looked exhausted. His eyes were large and puffy, and he was almost translucent.

They left the infirmary, Harry listening to Ron's rants about Draco. But Harry's mind wasn't on Draco. Well, not on Draco 'the git' or Draco 'the bastard'. Harry was thinking about Draco the boy who had fainted yesterday and woken up to a kiss. They really needed to talk.



He encouraged Ron to go down for dinner with Hermione, giving the excuse of a bit of a head ache- an excellent justification for going to the hospital wing. Harry knew, however, that Madame Pomphrey's prying eyes would surely spot his falsehood, and he could just turn up and march in without a reason. He decided that the best way to overcome the problem, just as was usually the easiest way- taking the invisibility cloak. It was so much easier to be unseen. Nothing was required of you. You could fade away like part of the scenery.

Leaving the Griffindor common room, Harry walked down the echoing corridors with the invisibility cloak over his head, until he reached the infirmary doors yet again.

Nobody noticed the doors slide open carefully, or the whisper of footsteps on the floor. Harry made no disturbance to fabricated calm of the hospital wing. He crept cautiously over to Draco's bed, aware of the rustle of curtains, as he stepped inside the enclosed area. Some of the other patients were already asleep, but Draco was awake and reading calmly- peacefully.

Harry had hardly ever seen him like this. He was not so guarded or sneering, as he usually seemed around the rest of the world. He was just a boy and sitting on a bed, reading away the evening hours. Not that he was any old boy. He was Draco Malfoy- mudblood hater, elitist, and nemesis. Harry was annoyed at the little snob. How could be all those awful things and be proud of it? How could he exist as he was, and still manage to charm everyone? How come half the school was secretly admiring of him?

Harry took the opportunity to study the other boy. His pale skin and pale hair. And those eyes- hard and cold, clear and cruel, searching and restricting all at once. Draco was a barrier in himself. He was a constructed front of denial and refusal, but Harry fancied that sometimes, just sometime, he could see a little further in the changing fathoms of Draco's soul, through his steely eyes.

Draco brought his hand down, to rest the book on his blanketed lap. He stretched a long, slow and luxurious (oh, and sensuous) stretch, just like a cat, then suddenly looked straight at Harry. Right into Harry's eyes- startled and unprepared, as Harry had never seen before.

Harry immediately realised that the cloak had slipped off.

Draco was obviously surprised at himself. He stumbled slightly over his words.

"Oh, Potter. Didn't see you there."

Harry was glad that the other boy hadn't found about the cloak. Knowledge was definitely power, especially with someone like Draco. He was also taken aback at the lack of insults lining that greeting.

"Um, I though we should…talk about what happened."

Drcao shifted his position, sitting up slightly to get a better view of him.

Harry moved forward awkwardly to sit on the end of the metal bedstead, tucking the cloak safely within the folds of his robes. Now that he was here, the subject of the intended conversation was breaking down. What was he supposed to say?

Draco rescued the situation by starting with…

"What did happen, Potter."

"You know what I'm talking about Malfoy." Harry said rather irritably.

"No. I meant." Draco said with a slight smile at Harry's inability to recognise Draco's skillful changes in tone. "I meant, it's not what happened that is important. It is the meaning behind it that makes the difference and really matters. It is how we perceive things, Potter. Most things are relational." It had taken the people around him- the people in his house- years to master and understand the changes in Draco's meaning by the subtlety of his tone.

Harry marvelled at the boy's insight. He wasn't just a pretty face.

"What did it mean to you?" Draco continued, looking at Harry with a suddenly serious edge.

"I...don't know." Harry said honestly.

This somehow offered Draco a kind of solace. At least Harry hadn't been disgusted by it.

"How about you?" Harry eyed him carefully and added with a threatening air, "You can't tell anybody about our relationship."

"Oh can't I?" Draco responded. He didn't even think about telling anybody, but the customary battle was involuntarily taking place.

"You can. But don't forget Malfoy, that I have some dangerous information too." Harry looked Draco directly in the eye. "I know that your father will not approve."

Well that was putting it lightly. Draco was half-amused and half-horrified. Harry certainly wasn't the golden boy he seemed. Draco was learning more about him every time he met him- Harry was not unfamiliar obviously, to the concept of blackmail.

"Well, lets just say that the rest of the world can be kept in the dark from both secrets."

Harry nodded in approval. There was a pause.

"You never told me what you thought about…the kiss."
Draco looked pensive for a moment.

"Potter, what's done is done."

Harry saw no point in pressing the issue further; Draco was evidently far too traumatised to speak about it.

He moved over to the deep blue curtains and peeked out to find a conveniently empty and quite room. The light was dim overhead, but outside the moon was in full view spilling milky liquid over the adjacent clouds. He turned once more to Draco giving a slight nod as a neutral parting, and with a swish of velvet fabric, he was gone.

Draco looked at the space where Harry had been, his eyes unfocussed. He had a lot to think about, but he was too tired. Draco had always been a weak boy, but he realised that he was merely weak in body, not in mind or soul. A wave of sickness had not hit since he was ten, so he knew that it could be just any old miscellaneous bout of illness. He knew it was influenced- inspired- by Harry. And that scared him. It wasn't really illness though. It was just the shock of seeing…of seeing…

Throwing himself off the bed, he pulled his black cloak over his thin shoulders and crept out of the infirmary.

His soft steps wandered aimlessly down this corridor and that, until he subconsciously ended up in the Slytherin wing of the school- home to the dungeons and cold damp walls. Great. The Slytherins would get lumbered with the unrepaired side of the school. Then again, most of the school was slightly damp.

He tried to get through the Slytherin entrance but the password seemed to have changed over the week and there was nobody around to ask, on account of the huge delicious dinner that was waiting downstairs. Draco grumbled to himself, and sighing a sigh that Dumbledore would have been proud of, he continued to wonder around the draughty corridors.

The castle was very quite at dinner times (barring the great hall of course). Draco hadn't missed dinner too often, but the silence around him was something he was used too. It was the silence of the Malfoy household. A household that seemed to create evil then draw on it for comfort- a manifestation of all the wrong-doing that had taken place over the years. It was a closed book of history, daring you to open it, knowing that when you do you will have to pay for the evil. It was almost as if Draco hated his history. He had always been taught that his origins were noble and worthy. It had been drummed into him, but sometimes he had to question the feeling inside of him, telling him that he was in it up to his neck. He believed in things that he had no clue about. These thoughts surfaced sometimes, but they were always drowned again by the pride of his relatives. Draco though for a while- no, he couldn't really call it a home It was simply a placed where he lived. Hogwarts was more of a home than his own house ever would be.

Draco came to a sudden still outside of a disused classroom. His father's voice came seeping out of the cracks in the closed door.

Draco had no idea that his father had already come for him. He hadn't been expected for another hour yet. Draco was somewhat surprised when his father had offered to collect him. This was not something he was used to, and it was unsettling.

But now that his father was here, surely Draco could knock on the door and see him?

Except, something stopped him. Another wave of uneasiness swept over.

His fathers voice was low and almost a whisper. Deep and throaty.

What the hell was going on?

Was it his father at all? Maybe he had misheard.

Draco jumped in shock, as he heard a low growl that turned into a moan. What was his father doing to the poor soul? Surely not a death-eater act right in the middle of Hogwarts.

Poor naïve Draco. (A/N I can't believe I just wrote that-Draco is in no way naïve, well, maybe in this way he is. But I mean, he doesn't suspect his father is…well, you know…if you don't know, then please read on…)

He couldn't stand it any longer. Taking great care not to disturb anything, he peeked through one of the cracks in the door.

His breath caught in his throat as found his father and another man in the middle of a fiery kiss. Actually, it was more that they were trying to engulf each other. Draco stood wide-eyed, watching the two semi-naked people stripping and searching, touching, and kissing, bodies pressed violently close.

When Draco returned enough from his state of shock to realise that he was watching his *father*, he took a deep breath. Just as he was about to pull away from the door, the other man lifted his head, and Draco saw that it was Snape.

He squeaked.

The two men paused, mid-act, looking around frantically.

Draco seeing this, turned and fled down the corridor, heart pounding, and confusion evident in his steel grey eyes. What had he just seen? And what did it mean?

His world made even less sense than before.



A/N Thanks to all you lot for reviewing.

Starfish Girl (thanks for your support :) love you for it) Gentle Water Soul (Not quite so short and sweet *g*) AnimeGirl, Ceitlin Malefoy, H (please tell me it's not after 'Steps' *grins again*- ignore that if you aren't from the UK) Unicorn Chick (thanks- hopefully it has a lot in store), GallientKitty, Saiko, Silver, Cali (terrible times? Me too L Thanks for your constant encouragement and torrent of reviews!!), liz, Linsay Beth (hehe, thank you), nunya (if you don't like Ron/Harry, I suggest that you don't read the rest of this-did I just say that?) Grace de Slytherin (wow, thanks. *blushes*), Julianna Priest, CrystalStarGuardian, Nykto (two hands huh? :) Krissy, and Tinuviel182.

I never thought I would get this much of a response to my writing. (I was expecting a couple of reviews max when I started with my first Harry/Draco: 'Disconnected')
Thanks again for reviewing and making me happy.

~finite