Disclaimer: Apparently my dear friend "Sarah" did grasp the whole "this is a slash fanfiction." Sweetie, for the first ten or so chapter, I reiterated each and every time that this story would have SLASH relationships.

Thanks: Thank you everyone who has reviewed. I've used this story to let all my feelings about Harry go out. That boy annoys me. ^.^ Come on, if I was in Hogwarts...I'd jump Draco. He's a sexy bi-atch. And Blaise? Love Blaise. Poor thing. Well, you'll probably hate him after this chapter...whoops...I've said too much...

WHOO!: I'm a-goin' to Dashboard Confessional tomorrow!! Yes!!

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"Hey, hey
did you ever think
there might be another way
to just feel better,
just feel better about today?"
--Sister Hazel "Change Your Mind"

"What do you want?" Draco demanded as Granger walked up to him. She was looking at him with a calculating glint in her eye, and it was unnerving.

"I'm a little tired, so if you don't mind, I'll go back to bed, unless there is a reason for this little rendezvous," he demanded.

"I'm here to talk about Harry," Granger said slowly.

"Well," Draco said brusquely, "I don't want to discuss him with you. Goodbye." He began to walk away but she continued to speak.

"I think you need to hear this, and I will hunt you down and tie you to a chair and make you listen if you don't do it compliantly."

"Sadist," he hissed, but sat as far away as he could while still being able to hear her comfortably. She looked surprised that he had abided by with her wishes, and for a moment she was a little flustered. Soon enough she regained her composure and started.

"I know that there is some kind of relationship between you and Harry. Neither Ron nor I know what it is," At this Draco opened his mouth to tell her there was no relationship, but she must have assumed he was going to tell her, and she held up her hand and screwed her eyes shut, "nor do we want to know. Harry has not told us, and until he does, whether or not we want to know, we are going to let it be." Draco closed his mouth and studied her. The way she spoke and her body language told him that while she was prepared to leave it be, Weasel was probably having kittens over it.

"But I am not naïve. And I know," she said, "that whatever happened a couple days ago between the two of you is tearing both of you up. I feel it in the air whenever Harry is near me, and I've been watching you, and you make it so obvious you're hurt I'm surprised Madame Pomfrey has accosted you both."

"Now, wait a minute…" Draco started, but Granger sighed.

"I was really getting on a roll there, and now you messed me up. Shush, little boy, and let me finish." Draco bristled at the insult, but kept silent, interested in what she had to say that could possible concern Harry and his fight. Once silence was assured, Ganger proceeded. "I want you to know that I will not stand for you hurting Harry to save yourself. I know how you shield yourself from any hurt, and I know that you're pissed Harry saw you vulnerable on the night you found out your mom died, but you cannot cut him off for the sake of your own feelings."

"You know," Draco said angrily, "I think you have a pretty good bloody idea what kind of relationship Harry and I have, and I am not cutting him off. He and the rest of that preposterous order cut me off."

"Oh, yes you are cutting him off. And I am not talking about the damn order, Malfoy. I'm talking about what you do to everyone you meet. I am just doing this as a preemptive thing. Maybe if I nip this one in the bud, it'll save a lot of people a lot of pain."

"There is no problem to nip," Draco yelled, standing over her, "This is none of your business. You don't know me, and I would appreciate it if you stopped assuming so much about me!"

"Oh, yeah?" Granger said, jumping of the table and staring him in the eyes. "When is the last time you had a real relationship, romantically inclined or not, with anyone besides your mother or Harry?"

At this, Draco fell silent. It was a hard question to answer, and to it he found he had no answer. Granger nodded in the silence. "Exactly. You surround yourself by people you can't make any sort of imaginable connection with, just so you can be assured all the relationships are superficial and can be easily broken off when it gets too weird, or they get too close. Goyle and Crabbe could never match you as friends. You're far too smart to be with them. And Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini?" She clicked her tongue. "Come on. Those two have the collective intelligence of a comatose flobberworm." Throwing her hands up in the air, she delivered the clincher. "And now, you've finally met someone who is as smart as you, that you connect with, that you may even love, and it scares you, because it undoes all the years you spent making sure you were completely and emotionally destitute!"

Never in the five years Draco had been in Hogwarts had he seen Hermione Granger be as flustered yet as powerful as she was at that moment, and her words tore through the defenses he had up and pierced his heart thoroughly.

Slowly, he began to realize she was right, but he wasn't going to admit it without a struggle.

"I am not emotionally destitute," he argued, crossing his arms. Granger mimicked the motion, and rolled her eyes.

"Really?" she said sarcastically. "Prove it." Draco floundered for a bit, furious at her. Then he smoothed his feathers.

"How do I prove something like that? Better still, how do you prove that you aren't 'emotionally destitute'?" he mocked. Granger shrugged.

"Easy. I have compassion," and then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Draco, holding him as if they were the best of friends, and not two enemies who had just had a fight. "I am so sorry about your mother, Malfoy," she whispered comfortably, hugging him even though he as frozen. "You don't deserve that sort of pain. I know she loved you. I'm so sorry," and her voice sounded as if it were hushed by tears. Draco was horrified to find that tears had sprung into his own eyes. It was as if Granger had taken some of his pain and bearing it for herself.

He unwrapped his arms and placed them gingerly around her, not because he enjoyed the embrace or the emotions it had caused to attack him, but because he was uncomfortable. And suddenly he wished Harry was in his arms, not this bushy Mudblood who had seen through him as if he were made of crystal. And he was angry that he had shattered so easily.

They parted quickly, and Hermione dabbed at her eyes before speaking again. Draco's had long since fallen into her hair. "See?" she said quietly, clasping her hands together. "Was that so hard?"

As she was leaving, Draco called to her, "Granger!" She put one hand on the door handle and turned. For a moment, Draco could see why Ron was so taken with her. She had the halo of innocent light like a child, but was coming into her womanly graces as well. "My name is Draco," he said, smiling faintly and weakly. Granger beamed and called back, "And mine is Hermione. And you're welcome." Then she was gone.

Draco crept back to his room, but was up for hours, mulling over what Hermione had said, trying desperately to build his defenses back up and realizing she had completely killed them. He hated how vulnerable he felt, how absolutely helpless he felt just because she had told him something he already knew.

The next day, he went to his first few classes, but faked a stomach ache before Potions and insisted to Snape that he couldn't work properly. Draco didn't even glance around the room to see if Harry was there.

Like a moth to a flame, Draco walked out to the clearing where he and Harry had sat so many times before. He didn't know why he went...perhaps it was to reflect, perhaps to sleep and dream of happier times, if he could find any.

But when he got there, Harry was already sitting on the log they usually occupied. His back was to Draco, and he was just sitting, his head back, staring at the stars.

"Hi, Harry," Draco whispered. Harry turned and looked at him. Then he stood and walked to him, studying his face.

"Draco," he whispered back, and Draco took his hand, and traced the lines of Harry's palms, tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry," he whispered, "I didn't mean any of it."

"I didn't mean it either. I'm sorry," replied Harry, placing his free hand on Draco's arm.

"I don't know why I keep coming back to you, but I have to," Draco said, his voice choked, "because I feel dead when I'm not near you. I just don't want to get hurt."

"And I don't want to hurt you," Harry said softly, taking Draco's hands and looking him in the eye.

Then they kissed, and it felt like the first time, and Draco could feel himself falling in love all over again, and even though they both knew that things could take a turn for the even worse, for a moment, they had just that kiss, and just each other.

What if I lost my direction?
What if I lost sense of time?
What if I nursed this infection?
Maybe the worst is behind
and it feels just like
I'm falling
for the first time.

~

At the next meeting of the order, Draco met up with Harry, Hermione, and Weasel, and was included, for the most part, in the conversations they held. And when they were allowed up, Dumbledore gave he and Harry a knowing look, but nothing else was said.

Draco and Harry's relationship had turned into something Draco had only read about. They hardly ever spoke, because they knew what each other were thinking. They could find each other no matter where they were, and there was an openess that hadn't been there before.

They knew it was love, but not the giddy love of other couples. It was the deep love that was there no matter what. The whole world could crash down around them, but like an old friend, or an old shoe, they knew the other was there.

Draco wasn't cutting himself anymore. He couldn't have anyway; Blaise had taken the dagger and hidden it.

Everything was fine, running smoothly. Draco was actually looking forward to classes, and to tests, because he was proud of himself even if his parents weren't.

Everything was fine...until he got a letter from Lucius.

As he unfolded the letter, unremarkable on the outside, he had no idea what it could say. But when he saw the signature, and the curt message, his mouth went dry and his hands began to shake.

"Draco," it said, the handwriting too familiar, the tone too cruel, "I expect you back at the manor on the 27th. Speak of this to no one." It was signed 'L. Malfoy.'

"What's the date?" he asked Blaise, who was watching him as usual.

"Uh...the..."

"Twenty-seventh, you moron," Pansy said angrily. Blaise blinked.

"Wow, that time of the month again?" he asked. Pansy let out a moan of frustration, slammed her fork down, and stormed out of the hall.

"Definitely that time of the month," Blaise said, turning back to Draco, who was fighting the nausea that was creeping into his throat. He shoved back from the table loudly. Then he glanced across the hall and tried to catch Harry's attention without moving or making it too obvious. Hermione looked up instead, and he cocked his head at Harry and raised his eyebrows, then turned and left.

Within a few seconds, Harry was into the hallway, followed closely by Hermione and Weasel. He went straight for the shadows, where Draco was standing and running his hands through his hair nervously.

"What's wrong?" Harry said, putting his hands on Draco's shoulders. Weasel visibly gagged, but everyone ignored him.

"My dad...wrote...he...I have to go...go to the manor today," Draco said, his voice shaking. "If I don't go, they'll know something is up, but if I go...I don't want to go."

"Yes you do," Weasel hissed.

"Ron, just shut it, okay?" Harry commanded. Weasel flushed at the reprimand and took Hermione's hand.

"Come on, Hermione," he said, leading her away.

"We need to talk to Dumbledore," Harry said, also taking Draco's hand, and together they ran up the stairs.

Neither saw Blaise as he exited the hallway and watched them go.

Dumbledore was speaking with Snape in the Transfiguration wing, and Snape stopped mid-sentence when they ran up. He glanced at their hands and then back up at Dumbledore, who shook his head as Draco pulled his hand away from Harry's.

"Can I help you?" Dumbledore asked calmly. Draco handed him the letter.

"Should I go? It'll be suspicious if I don't..."

"But you're scared to go," Snape said, leaning over Dumbledore's shoulder to read the letter. Draco looked up sharply.

"Professor Snape was just on his way out," Dumbledore said quietly. Both Draco and Harry started as Snape squared his shoulders.

"You're in..." Draco began, but his sentence was cut off as he let out a gasp of pain and clutched his arm. Snape did the same thing, jerking the sleeve of his robe up. The tattoo on his arm had turned a startling black. With wide eyes, Harry eased Draco's sleeve up as well and stared at the Dark Mark.

"I think it is time you both go going," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry looked up.

"You're just going to let them both go?" he asked in shock. Draco shook his head morosely.

"I...we...have no choice."

"Come, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, turning and leading the way. With a glance back at Harry, who looked stressed, Draco followed Snape. He was instructed to go back to his dorm and put on his Death Eater robe then meet Snape at his very office, where a fire glinted at them. Snape pulled from his pocket a black velvet bag and held it out for Draco. "You go first."

"Gee, thanks," Draco muttered dryly, taking a pinch of the powder and throwing it into the fire. He stepped into the flames and said loudly, "The Malfoy Manor!" and as he whizzed past grate after grate, he felt sick.

When he landed in his living room, he stumbled and caught himself on the arm of his couch, which was covered with a layer of dust. If Narcissa had been alive, she would have been furious at the disrepair her house had fallen into. Someone stepped into the room.

"Lucius," Draco said curtly, nodding his head. Lucius nodded back at him.

"Draco. Is Snape coming?" he asked. In answer, out of the fireplace stepped Snape, who looked at Lucius with cold dislike on his face.

"Yes, I am, Lucius. How kind of you to be concerned." Turning on his heel, Lucius walked out of the room and they heard the click of the backdoor.

"Come on," Snape said, beckoning Draco to follow him.

"What is going to happen?"

"We'll be hearing his normal speech about the Dark Arts, then we're supposed to hear a new plan. It would be in your best interest to keep your mouth shut."

Biting his lip, Draco fell a few steps behind him as they made their way out of the manor and into the forest. Sunlight streamed through the barely leafed branches. Lucius was probably in Voldemort's inner circle solely for the reason that only at the manor could meetings be conducted in the middle of the day with no fear of discovery.

Snape and Draco were the last to arrive, and Snape took his place in line, and Draco was left with only one spot, which was beside Lucius. Lucius nudged him sharply and motioned him to put his hood up. Draco slipped the hood on, fixing the black mesh over his face, cutting off his peripheral vision and leaving him with a hazy view of what was in front of him.

There was complete silence as Voldemort stepped into the center of the circle. Cold shivers ran down Draco's back as he began to speak. Snape had been right; it was a speech on the importance of the Dark Arts, of being discreet, of what life would be like once the world was rid of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers.

However, there was no talk of unity, of the importance of sticking together. And Draco felt himself realizing that if this side won, it was doubtful any of Voldemort's followers would receive special treatment.

"Those who have been chosen for the Diagon Alley invasion, you are to be here at noon, no later. For everyone else, don't think you won't be doing anything. Depending on the outcome, the rest of you, new members included, will be assisting me in...persuading...the new headmaster at Durmstrang to join our cause."

Fear had officially become one of Draco's foremost emotions.

After an hour and a half of standing at strict attention, Draco was beginning to lose the feeling in his feet. His knees were wobbling and his attention was waning as the talking became incredibly monotonous. Hitler had made it to the top because he was charismatic; it was obvious that instead of being charismatic, Voldemort was just cutting the foreplay and jumping straight to being a ruthless leader.

"This meeting is adjourned," Voldemort said clapping his hands. Almost instantly, the clearing filled with the sound of wizard's apparating. Draco turned to go back to the manor when Lucius laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You will be helping us at Diagon Alley."

Draco turned to face him, yanking down his mask and saying, "Dumbledore is suspicious enough as is. Missing school to go off and fight a war may just catch his attention,"

"It won't be until the end of the school year. Do honestly think we'd be stupid enough to carry out plans while that head of the Muggle lovers can still hold meetings at Hogwarts?"

"You'd be stupid enough to," Draco hissed, and immediately knew it was a mistake. Lucius hit him across the face, and he staggered backwards and fell. Stars blinked in front of his eyes as he lay on the ground. A faint pop from above told him Lucius had apparated.

Someone grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet, and stood as he waited for the dizziness to pass. "Thanks," he muttered, touching a hand to his face, and looking at the blood numbly. It was always a fun time when Lucius wore a ring.

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort said, "how goes it at Hogwarts?" Draco recoiled when he looked up and saw Voldemort's hideous face staring down at him. But Voldemort waited by, as if he truly wanted an answer.

"It...It's ok. Er...Potter is really close to Dumbledore and...I've heard that there is some sort of...secret order," he eased, trying to stand up straight despite the terrible headache that pounded in his temple.

Voldemort nodded. "I suspect you'll be a strong addition," he said, releasing Draco's arm.

"Thank you, sir," Draco said, fighting back the shudders and panic. Voldemort nodded, then with a pop, disappeared.

The blood from the cut on his cheek was dripping down to his chin and he tried to wipe at them but was only smearing it around. He turned to go back to the manor, and had to rekindle the fire. Snape had left behind the bag of Floo powder, and Draco stumbled back into the office as the clock was striking eight.

"Are you okay? I couldn't stay behind," Snape asked, sounding almost concerned. Draco drew a hand across his face and looked down at the blood.

"Yeah, I just have a splitting headache."

"Understandable. Does he do that often?"

"He used to. At home. My mom...she hated it when he did it, but she couldn't stop him because he would just turn on her and I wouldn't let him do it. I'd piss him off so he'd hit me and not her." Tears mingled with the blood, and he sniffed, hating how he always cried now. Snape turned away, and Draco was grateful as he tried to pull himself together. "I'll be fine. I'll just wash my face."

Snape raised a hand in farewell and Draco left.

He was still dabbing at his face and eyes when he stepped into the dorm and closed the door.

Blaise was standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed, his expression one of fury. He flew at Draco, slamming him into the door and pinning him there.

"What the hell!" Draco yelled, seeing stars again as his head hit the wood. Growling, Blaise leaned into his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" he screamed, shoving Draco. "You're friends with Potter?"

"I have to!" Draco yelled, pushing him backwards. "You moron! I have to keep an eye on him!" The screaming and the effort of fighting was making his head feel like someone had hit it with a sledgehammer.

"You're lying," Blaise accused, his voice low and shuddering with emotion. Draco had never seen him like this. His whole body was straining against himself; his eyes were alight with hindered emotion.

"Why would I lie to you?"

"Then tell me the truth," Blaise said, taking a step forward, "are you dating him?"

Draco felt the blood drain from his face, and he was speechless. 'He knows, he knows,' his mind screamed, and Draco pressed himself against the door, horrified that his tongue had forgotten how to speak.

"Blaise..." and suddenly he understood the look in Blaise's eyes and he understood who Blaise was in love with and he understood why Blaise was so upset. "How can you ask me that?" he whispered, hoping he sounded hurt and not scared, offended and not panicked.

Stepping forward, Blaise reached out and began to wipe at the blood on Draco's cheek, his hands running over Draco's face as his eyes brimmed with tears. Their faces were inches away, their breath mingling.

Looking into Draco's eyes, Blaise did the unthinkable; he inched closer and closed the space between their lips. His kiss was innocent and young and bittersweet. He pressed Draco against the door, and Draco tasted desperation, knowing if he pushed him away, he would break Blaise's heart, so he kissed back, knowing what he was doing to Harry.

When Blaise pulled away, Draco buried his face in his hands, and Blaise began to move jerkily, and he opened the door and fled. Draco rushed to the bathroom and stripped off his clothes, and stepped into the shower, turning on the cold water full blast and he stood, his eyes closed.

Oh gods...

what had he done?

Dear, dear diary
I wanna tell my secrets
'cause you're the only
that I know will keep them.
I've been a bad, bad girl
for so long.
I don't know how to change
what wrong.