Author's Note: Yes folks, this latest instalment has come in pathetically late. I'm so sorry! I've just been feeling ex-treme-ly lazy and uninspired lately. You can just picture me staring dumbly at the computer screen for hours*** on end, unable to type anything. Horrors!

Anyway your reviews make me so wonderfully happy and light, as always! (more, more, more!)

Special thanks to: Kanoi, justfordraco99, Tine (hey I like your fic -k.y.e!), Purple People Eater, shakiya, Justice-hime, Akemi, Ali, Shannon Corrigan (I need closure too.), frizzy, EPP, serotonin, destinywriters, Ilithril, Minerva-Severus-Dumbledor, Ariel, Natzlin, Middie, Val Mora, mandraco, shinigami5218, Emma, Dia, Tasha, Liliku, Razberry, Dark Peppermint, S. Wing, asaroth69 and Fantastic Mr Foxkins.

***Of course, in between these horrifying and mind-numbing lulls, I was online playing gin. I'm getting quite good!

On to the next chap. (Sorry for the bloody awful title! - I tried, I really did!)



Chapter 20: Deliberate Designs & Ill Counsels



Oliver wandered through the corridors. It was empty, given that most people were still in the Great Hall. After stopping by the Infirmary to find it empty, he had went to the Common Room thinking Harry must have gone back there.

No such luck either.

So now Oliver was walking down random corridors hoping by slim chance to bump into the boy.

And just as he was about to give up the search, he heard a sniffling sound; and stopped in his tracks.

He looked around the hallway for the source of the sound.

No one about.

Suddenly, he noticed some movement in the shadows. He walked towards it cautiously.

"Who's there?" he asked.

The sniffling stopped abruptly.

"Go away." a voice muffled through the darkness.

Oliver recognised it at once.

"Harry? Is that you?"

He went towards the darkened corner of the hallway. As he got nearer, he saw that it was actually a crevice in the wall. It was quite a small space and rather narrow.

Just enough for one person to fit through at any one time.

And right now, Harry Potter was sitting cross-legged on the floor, within it.

His head was bent down, but Oliver could see the shiny tracks of tears on his cheeks, reflected in the poor light.

Oliver sighed at the pitiful sight and crouched down on the floor to face him.

"Harry. . . What's wrong?"

Harry just shook his head silently. It didn't feel as if he could form words just yet.

It still hurt too much.

Oliver frowned.

"Is it You-Know-Who?" he asked with some trepidation.

Harry shook his head and wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve.

"No." he said dully, finally looking up at Oliver.

His glasses had fogged up and he sniffled again pitifully before taking them off. He started to wipe at his lenses with the edge of his robes.

"You know, everyone's going to be coming out of the Great Hall pretty soon." Oliver noted as he took in Harry's reddened and slightly puffy eyes.

He stood back up and extended his hand down towards the boy.

Harry considered it for a while before finally accepting Oliver's hand and pulled himself up to his feet.

"I'd rather not talk about it." he said quickly. "I- I'm going back to the Common Room now, if you don't mind, Oliver."

"No. I *do* mind." Oliver said, not letting go of his hand.

"Come on." He said firmly and started to pull Harry through the corridor.

Not feeling up for a fight, Harry let himself be led.

"Where are we going?" he sniffed.

"Out." Oliver simply said.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Draco sighed. He had been wandering around the hallways looking for any sign of Potter ever since the boy had run off.

His feet hurt, his head throbbed and his heart ached.

All he wanted was to find Harry and explain his side of the story. He was sure everything would be right again once he got a chance to.

Sure, he had kept the ugly truth a secret all this time, but if you think about it; he never really said outright that he wasn't guilty.

Harry just assumed that he was innocent.

Yet, even as he was trying to rationalise this to himself, he knew how pathetic it would sound out loud.

*I'll find a way to make it up to him somehow. It can't be over just like that.*

A low grumbling from his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten a thing since this morning. He frowned and wondered what he should do.

Harry was still nowhere in sight.

He was near to the Great Hall now.

It was late, but there should still be some food left. He sighed wearily again as he gave one last look through the empty halls before opening the doors.

*I'll find him. He can't hide forever.* he told himself.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Here." Oliver handed the younger boy his handkerchief.

Harry took it gratefully. His sleeves were getting uncomfortably damp and were pretty useless now.

"Thanks."

Oliver nodded. They sat in silence.

They were sitting on the top row of the seats around the Quidditch field. They were alone and for that Harry was grateful.

He wasn't feeling very sociable now. If it was up to him, he'd be curled up in his bed right now, with the covers over his head.

Overhead; the sky seemed to mirror his mood. It was slate grey and from the dark clouds growing over the Forbidden Forest; a storm looked fast approaching.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked.

"You tell me."

Harry gulped, feeling very uncomfortable.

"What's going on, Harry?"

Harry merely bit his lip in response to this and shook his head in muted silence.

"So you're going to keep quiet forever, are you?" Oliver persisted.

"I - I just. . ." his voice broke and trailed off.

Oliver sighed.

He dreaded to ask this question. But it seemed the only way to speed things along.

"Does it have *anything* to do with Draco Malfoy?"

Harry blinked and looked at Oliver, his eyes wide; before turning away.

"You just answered my question, Harry."

Oliver turned to straddle the bench and faced the younger boy.

Harry sniffed and thought for a bit.

He knew he had to say some-thing but on the other hand he didn't want to tell the whole story to Wood either. He could still remember how hard the Captain had fought to get the blame pinned on Draco.

If Wood knew the truth, he'll definitely, *definitely* report it.

Angry and hurt as he is, Harry didn't feel as though he could deal with the professors and Dumbledore all over again. The whole incident would have to be rehashed again and Draco would be forced to confess in front of him.

*Once is more than enough.* he thought bitterly to himself.

"I can't give you any details, Oliver." he finally stated softly.

Oliver raised his eyebrows slightly at this, not used to being told no by any of his team members.

"Okay. . .I'm not asking for details, Harry. Just tell me what you can. I might be able to help you, you know." he said coaxingly.

Harry chuckled soundlessly and without mirth.

"I don't think you can, Oliver. But, thanks."

He glanced over at the older boy who was now looking at him with a rapt expression.

"To put it simply," Harry paused, an uncomfortable tightness spreading over his chest, "I just found out something. He - Dra - Malfoy - lied to me about . . . something. Uhm, something very important." he stumbled.

Oliver sat and waited for more, but then he realised Harry was finished.

"That's *IT*?"

"Without going into details. . . yes." Harry knitted his brows.

"*That's* why I found you in the middle of some dark hallway, hiding in a dark corner, weeping your heart out???"

Harry hesitated briefly before managing a small wry smile in acknowledgement.

Oliver gaped at the boy in disbelief.

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"Well, I've heard my share of people's problems; but *that* has got to be the stu-pid-est reason I have ever heard." He commented.

And he finished by adding (rather insensitively).

"In my whole life."

Harry didn't know whether to feel angry with Oliver or to be embarrassed.

Wood had just managed to trivialise everything he had been feeling upset about. And in truth, now he was beginning to feel as though he was being rather silly about everything.

In fact, he almost made him forget why he was feeling so hurt.

Almost.

Harry shook his head. "Well, there's more to it than what I've *said*, obviously."

"Oh, do tell." Oliver said; his tone mockingly enthusiastic.

Harry frowned at this.

"I know you think I shouldn't care because it's Malfoy and all." He paused and wiped at his eye, "but we've . . .we've actually gotten close over these weeks. We're not enemies anymore. We've even-"

Oliver put up a hand to stop Harry.

"Yes, I've heard all those rumours, thank-you-very-much." He said quickly.

"So you know what I'm talking about, then."

"I suppose." Oliver relented.

Harry nodded.

"So, what do you plan to do about it then?" Oliver asked.

"Huh?" Harry looked at him in puzzlement.

"What? Don't tell me you intend to spend the rest of the term moping around and weeping buckets everytime you spot him in the halls or have to sit in the same classes as him?"

"No." Harry sniffed indignantly.

"Well?"

"I haven't thought about all that." he admitted; grimacing as the thought of being in the same classes with the blonde came to him.

He didn't want to face Draco anymore now than he wanted to have a blast- ended skrewt in his bed at night.

He sighed sadly and raised his knees up to hug them to his chest and looked at the rolling clouds.

The wind was starting to pick up and blow his hair around.

"For god's sake, Harry! It's not the end of the world, you know!" Oliver exclaimed as he took in Harry's slight pout, feeling quite infuriated with the boy.

Harry pursed his lips obstinately.

Oliver got a sudden urge to shake him.

So he did.

"Owww! Oliver!"

"Sorry, Harry. Couldn't help myself."

Harry frowned and straightened his robes.

Oliver took in a deep breath.

"Look, Harry. I don't know how to put this to you gently, so I'm not even going to try." Harry shot him a fearful look at this, but Oliver didn't care, "SNAP out of it! Stop acting like a rud-dy CHILD! I mean, seriously, you're The-Boy-Who- Lived, for *Mer-lin's* sake! And you're going to *pieces* because of a lousy break-up?"

Harry's mouth dropped.

"Now, I don't care what you have to do, I don't care what it takes. You've got to get over it!" Oliver shouted.

And stopped.

Harry was strangely silent at his outburst.

Oliver wondered if he had gone too far.

But he couldn't go back now, he thought. And besides he had to do *something*.

A blubbering, overly-emotional Seeker would absolutely kill their chances of winning the match against Slytherin.

Oliver waited with bated breath, hoping that Harry wouldn't burst into tears or something stupid like that.

Harry seemed to be in deep contemplation now. That is to say, he was staring at his feet.

Then his jaw seemed to tighten as he turned to face Oliver, his face resolute.

And he took in a deep breath.

"Thank you, Oliver."

Oliver grinned in relief. *Phew!*

Harry managed a brave smile. "I needed that."

"Good." Oliver nodded and clapped a hand over Harry's shoulder; still not believing that he somehow managed to knock some sense into the boy.

"So you'll be all right then?" Oliver asked.

"Uhm- I think so. I just have to erase it - clean off my mind. Everything." He blinked, "A-And put all of my energy and focus onto . . . something else." He paused and thought, "Er, maybe my classes?" he looked at Oliver expectantly.

The older Gryffindor was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"No, Harry. I've got something *much* better than that."

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly at Oliver.

"Quidditch."