Rating: R

Warnings: Here be slash and het. If that's not for you, why did you get this far? Shoo!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

Thanks To: Kimagure, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Myr, chasati, SoulSister, Jivanna (I certainly do. Well, apparently you are supposed to hurt the ones you love…), Jessica (The title was kind of inevitable, really. That's what comes of being an Ogden Nash reader in my youth.), Cherubic Sasami, Penelope-Z, Rhys, Apocalypse, Blaze, Antiprep Superstar, twilights death, Morphia Productions, Demeter, Sorceress Jade, bunnyb (The love won't remain unrequited. A little sadness can be good sometimes…did anyone else get tired of Disney movies because they always had such perfect happy endings?), Britt, Darth Maligna, Exis, TJ, mysticalcancer, Mysterious (An interesting synopsis. It sounds like a very good story—perhaps you should actually write it and get your own author account so that you don't have to post your ideas in other people's review boxes. My sister and I were both a bit nonplussed about finding it in ours.), Kcarke (The image of Draco drawing Harry was one that had been pounding on the door asking to be noticed for some time. I thought the fact of the paintings was the most probable and easiest way for Dumbledore to keep an eye on what was happening around the castle, given that he himself is rarely seen in the books except at mealtime and in his office. I'm rather glad you've decided not to like Pansy, because she's only going to get worse from here on in. You'll be seeing a fair bit more of one of the Gryffindor Death Eaters in particular, but he isn't in Harry's year.), Wednesday (Yay! Someone else who dislikes Cho…I may need help to prise Harry away from her…), S. Maldiva (Yes, Voldemort's looking extremely pleased with himself at the moment. *Kicks the Dark Lord in the shins* Pansy…is going to get very nasty about things.),

All Torn Down: Truth and Dare

Dare to be true;

Nothing can need a lie.

The fault that needs one most

Grows two thereby.

—Dare to be True, George Herbert

Harry felt himself being roughly shaken awake. People around him were shouting; Harry could hear someone screaming and was shocked to realise it was him. What he was most acutely aware of, though, was a searing pain in his forehead. He shot upright, bumping heads with Ron, and clapped a hand to his scar. Ron released him.

'Not again,' Seamus was moaning. 'This is just like Divination last year...'

'Are you okay, Harry?' Ron asked him quietly.

Harry didn't answer at once. He cast a muzzy glance about the room. Not one of the beds around him was occupied. Neville crouched, pale and shaking, in a corner. Dean stood over the frightened boy, trying to calm him despite his own quite visible alarm.

...Not the Platform...it's all right...

'Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Just a nightmare.'

'That was no nightmare.' Seamus scowled. 'You were screaming for ages and you wouldn't wake up!'

'Mm.' Harry slipped out of bed and opened his chest, searching for his robes. Ron knelt down next to him.

'Another dream?' he whispered so the others wouldn't hear. Harry nodded. 'Oh Gods...Hermione'll go nuts...'

'So don't tell her.'

Harry closed the trunk and withdrew into the bathroom. Inside, he slid to the floor, shaking, trying to push the images of the dream from his mind: people screaming, explosions, masked and hooded figures pouring out of the London Underground... and above it all, the Dark Mark, watching...

Harry hauled himself up and swayed momentarily in front of the basin before he turned the taps and splashed cold water on his face. The pain in his forehead was still there, but had faded to a dull ache. He glared at his reflection in the mirror. Harry baulked first; turning away to strip off his pyjamas.

Actually, telling Hermione about the dream was the best thing Harry could think of besides going to Dumbledore. Ron was right—she'd go crazy for about ten minutes—but after that it would be all logic and sense and, above all, perspective. Hermione would never be so stupid as to tell Harry not to worry, but she would point out that it was just a dream and Harry was bound to have been on tenterhooks anyway because of the Death Eater meeting last night. Not helpful, exactly, but oddly comforting. If nothing else, she could quote a yard-long list of books that might help him.

Harry pulled his robe on and exited the bathroom at high speed. Feeling the now much calmer gazes of the other boys on him, he sheepishly muttered, 'Sorry I woke you all,' and began to descend toward the common room. Ron, already robed, followed him.

'Someone's going to have to do something about those dreams of yours,' Ron said as they traversed the steps. 'Keep going the way you are and they'll be able to hear you back in England!'

'Mm.'

'You should have been made a Prefect. At least then you'd have your own room, and you wouldn't wake the rest of us up every time—I mean, no offence, but—'

'I know. I was still screaming when I woke up, remember? I know how loud it is.' He shrugged. 'But me becoming Prefect would only have happened over Snape's dead body.'

'Yeah,' Ron grinned. 'Something that's only ever going to happen in our fondest dreams—well, in mine, anyway, yours are probably filled with Cho--' he ducked to avoid Harry's half-hearted swing at him. In point of fact, Harry hadn't dreamed of Cho for a while, her image having been replaced with certain others. The fact was beginning to bother him.

Harry paused in front of the door to the common room. 'Wait. Ron, did you just admit that you dream more about Snape than you do about Hermione?'

The grin dropped abruptly from Ron's face and his mouth hung slack. 'Urrgh—yuck. Harry, let's just not go down that path, all right?'

'Agreed.' Harry's brow creased. 'Although, I still haven't worked out why Hermione didn't get Prefect...'

'I think she asked not to be chosen,' Ron said vaguely as they entered the common room.

'She what?'

Ron shrugged. 'When I asked, she said something about not being a real leader...' he looked abashed at Harry's incredulous expression. 'Oh come on, if I understood everything about Hermione we would have been together two years ago at least. By the way,' Ron glanced around furtively, reached into a pocket and drew out Hogwarts: A History. 'I've decided to read it. Try to keep Fred and George off my back, will you?'

Harry nodded. They both turned at the sound of the girls' dormitory door opening. Hermione smiled as she crossed the room to them. 'Morning. Sleep well?'

They exchanged glances. 'No,' Harry said. 'Not really.'

Hermione's smile froze on her face, suddenly seeming out of place under the caution in her eyes. 'Why? What's wrong?'

Harry jabbed a thumb at his forehead. Hermione's smile disappeared altogether. 'Oh no, not again. Are you all right? Does it still hurt, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey? You'd better sit down right away, no, sit, I mean it Harry, sit! Good boy.' She glared fiercely at a bunch of third years watching them with extreme interest. 'Well? What are you looking at? Go away!' Her attention reverted abruptly back to Harry. 'You're going to have to tell Dumbledore about this right away, you do know that, don't you? Right, and you should probably get a message to Sirius as well—are you sure you don't need to see Pomfrey? You're looking a bit pale...'

'Mione,' Ron pointed out, 'Harry's always pale.'

On the whole, Harry thought, she took it better than he'd expected.

Fred and George burst into the room just as she began to calm down.

'Breakfast!' George said cheerfully. 'Come on you three, to the Great Hall!' He paused as he noticed the square shape of the History in Ron's pocket. 'What's that, Ronnykins? Aw, did you buy Hermione a box of chocolates? Isn't that sweet...'

Ron backed away, glaring daggers as George advanced on him. Unfortunately, that meant he wasn't concentrating on Fred, who circled around to his side and retrieved the book easily. He gasped melodramatically as he looked at the cover.

'Oh no! George, look, she's turning him into a—' the twins winced in unison and shouted, 'bookworm!'

'No she isn't!' Ron said hotly, snatching the book back as they collapsed in laughter. 'I just promised Hermione I'd read this one.'

'Yeah, that's what they all say,' George grinned, winking at him. 'It begins with the histories—'

'Rolls on with the sagas—'

'And maybe even takes a detour into the chronicles—'

'Until you're hooked on books!'

Ron scowled, not at all impressed by the fact that Hermione and Harry were rapidly failing in their attempts not to laugh with the twins. 'You two are as bad as Peeves, you know that?'

'Nah,' Fred winked at him. 'We're worse. And you sound like Mum, by the way. See you down there—tiddlywinks!' They disappeared into the corridor and the Fat Lady swung shut.

'I wonder what they're so happy about?' Harry mused.

Ron began to count options off his fingers. 'It could be the effect of smelling all those fumes from their latest experiments... or they might have actually got something right for the joke shop, or Ludo Bagman flew in last night and finally coughed up—or Mum's finally agreed not to disown them.'

'Disown?'

'Well, not exactly. But she was pretty mad when she found out they still planned to set up shop. Kept saying that they should be serious now of all times.'

'Those two? Serious?' Hermione shook her head. 'That would make for a very sad day.'

'Try telling Mum that.'

'Maybe I will, next time I see her. Have you written to tell her we're going out?'

Ron smiled. 'Of course. Anyway, if I hadn't then Fred, George or Ginny would have.'

'That's not the point. All right, let's go down and eat. And while we're doing that,' her gaze slid to Harry; 'you can tell us exactly what happened in this dream.'

Harry cringed. 'And if I said I didn't remember?'

'I wouldn't believe you.'

'Right. Just checking.'

It was just possible that there were worse things than having to recall the dream during breakfast, but Harry managed to forget most of them in short order. He began to shake again as he spoke, remembering images of mangled corpses, people trampling each other as they ran from the laughing Death Eaters, flashes of green light. One particularly horrifying memory of a boy his own age standing over the body of a young Muggle girl and poking her with his wand kept sending unpleasant messages to his gut, and eventually he stopped even trying to look as though he was eating. Ron and Hermione both looked as bad as he felt. Hermione raised a hand to her mouth as he finished; for a split second Harry thought she was going to throw up.

'Oh, that's awful,' she whispered. 'Are you sure you're all right, Harry?'

'I will be.'

'Do you think—Harry, is it a real premonition, or do you think it might be...'

'Might be what?'

'I don't know—the dream might be a side effect from the pain in your scar—'

'It never has been before.'

'—Or maybe it's something that You-Know-Who is planning, something he wants to happen... not something that will happen.'

'I hope so.'

'Are you all right?' The three of them turned at the soft voice behind them; Draco was looking at Harry with as much concern as he dared show.

'What do you care?' Ron said harshly. 'This doesn't concern you.'

Draco looked taken aback. 'Fine,' he muttered, and turned away.

'No, wait,' Harry said suddenly. Draco looked back at him. 'Listen,' Harry said in a low, urgent voice. 'The meeting last night...Voldemort isn't planning anything to do with the London Underground, is he?'

Draco stared at Harry. 'Yes,' he said finally. 'He is. How did you know?'

Harry looked at his hands. They clenched into fists and he stood up. 'I need to tell Dumbledore.'

'Tell him what?'

Harry didn't answer Draco. He headed for the door, flanked by Hermione and Ron. As they left the Great Hall, Pansy Parkinson brushed past. She turned to glare back at Harry.

'That girl's going to end up needing inch-thick glasses if she doesn't stop squinting at people,' Hermione commented. 'She hasn't taken her eyes off Malfoy since he got out of the Hospital Wing.'

'Herm, Pansy hasn't taken her eyes off him since first day, first term, first year,' Ron said. He shrugged. 'I'd say they deserved each other, except that there's something very just in knowing that he'll never go for her.'

Harry fervently wished Ron would stop making remarks like that. 'Ron?'

'Yes?'

'Why don't you start reading the History?'

Dumbledore's reaction to the news of Harry's dream was much as he had expected. The Headmaster listened gravely, with no hint of surprise. Harry wondered exactly what had happened at the Death Eater's gathering, and regretted not having asked Draco more.

When Harry had finished, Dumbledore stood and raised one hand, to which Fawkes flew. The phoenix was on the wrong side of a burning day, and was a rather sorry sight. It looked up at Dumbledore with one sad eye.

'The Dark Lord is moving fast,' the Headmaster said quietly. 'Perhaps too fast. Thank you for telling me about this, Harry. I will call another meeting of the Order tonight.'

'Professor, it isn't certain to happen, is it? I mean, the premonition...it might not actually come to pass. Might it?'

'Perhaps. The truth is, I don't know. Everything possible will be done to avert it, but...I have never known anyone with such strength or accuracy of vision as you.'

Harry shivered. 'But everyone's wrong sometimes, aren't they?' he persisted anxiously. 'I get things wrong in Divination all the time.'

'We can only hope, Harry.'

Harry left the room bewildered at the old man's sombre mood and more than a little disturbed by it. Ron and Hermione, who had waited for him out in the hall, looked up sharply at his exit. The History slipped back into Ron's pocket.

'Well?' Hermione said pensively. 'What did he say? What now?'

Harry managed to raise the ghost of a half-smile. 'We wait and see. He's called another meeting for tonight.'

Hermione groaned. 'I've got loads of Runes homework!'

'Well, take a night off. It's not as though it's going to cost you marks or anything,' Ron said. 'What have we got first?'

'Arithmancy,' Hermione said, as Harry said, 'Divination.'

'Good.' Ron smiled, contented; once again pulling out the History. 'Reading time. I just got up to the castle's first-ever Quidditch match.'

Mirth tugged at the corners of Hermione's mouth as she turned away from them toward the Arithmancy classroom. Harry wished he would stop feeling so cold.

The day passed in a blur. Not a lot happened to distinguish it from a normal school day, unless you counted Harry's poor Potions results—he didn't—but he couldn't shake the leaden feeling in his stomach. He didn't even bother to eat at lunch or dinner; merely stared into space until Ron and Hermione were done. What was Voldemort planning, that it could worry Dumbledore so much? He'd said the Dark Lord was moving too fast. How fast? Moving toward what?

Harry started at the touch of Hermione's hand on his arm. 'We need to go now.'

He nodded and they left the Great Hall in silence. Ron and Hermione, after a few failed attempts to rouse Harry from his gloomy mood, had left him more or less alone during the day.

Dumbledore's office was less crowded than it had been at the last meeting; several wizards hadn't been able to make it, and a few others simply hadn't arrived yet. Both Sirius and Remus were there, though, and the trio quickly crossed the room to them. Sirius grinned at Harry as they drew close.

'Hi, Harry. How are you?'

Harry shrugged, unable to stifle a smile at his godfather's countenance. 'All right, I guess.'

'Holding up all right through exams? Good boy. And what about you, Ron? Hermione?'

Ron smirked a little. 'There's no need to ask Hermione, Sirius. If she ever loses a mark, it's the teacher's fault, not hers.' Hermione smiled at that. Sirius laughed.

'Harry, do you know what this meeting's for? Dumbledore's message was a bit abrupt.'

'Something important happened at the Death Eater meeting last night.' Harry dropped his voice several decibels. 'I think Voldemort's planning to attack through the London Underground.'

Sirius' expression darkened and he looked across to Remus. 'Is that so?'

The door opened, and Draco stepped inside, winding through the crowd until he settled in a corner from which he could watch the whole room. A moment later, Snape and McGonagall entered together, much to Harry and Ron's amusement. As though on cue, the room fell silent.

'I understand that I called this meeting early and at short notice,' Dumbledore said. 'However, several of Voldemort's intentions became clear last night and urgent action must be taken. Firstly, he doesn't believe the giants will side with him, but isn't at all worried about that fact. The Dark Lord is so sure of himself that he intends to launch his first attack before the struggle at Azkaban is decided.' A wave of gasps and muttered comments made Dumbledore pause. Sirius and Remus exchanged the same grim look. 'We cannot afford to simply believe this is the arrogance of a powerful madman. The scale of the planned assault suggests otherwise: Voldemort and his minions will attack the London Underground through King's Cross Station two days after Christmas.'

'You can't be serious!' A tall, aristocratic wizard blurted in the ensuing silence.

'I am.'

'But...so soon?'

'Sibyl was right, then,' Mrs Figg said briskly. ' 'Greater and more terrible than before', wasn't it? Well, what are we going to do about it?'

'That has not yet been decided.' Dumbledore glanced at Snape; the air between them almost crackling with information. 'The concern is that if we directly counter the attack, Voldemort will find and uproot our spy network.'

'A covert operation, then,' a burly wizard standing near the back of the room grunted.

'Even then we'd need to be careful,' Remus said. 'Voldemort will be suspicious of any sign of magic used against him. He may even be wary of Muggle resistance.'

'What strings could we pull with the Muggle authorities to have the Underground empty on that day?'

'None,' Snape said. 'They won't budge unless they get a piece of paper with Fudge's signature on it. Besides, if the Death Eaters find the Underground empty, they'll just spill out onto the streets.'

'Perhaps we'll have to dismantle your precious spy operation and just go at the Dark Lord full pelt, Snape,' the aristocratic man said, with just the merest hint of a sneer. The Potions Master's face whitened, and Harry saw a tightness about his jaw that usually foretold of detentions, but he didn't reply.

Remus and Sirius were talking to each other urgently in very low voices. Harry caught the words 'moon' and 'potion'. Finally Remus looked to Dumbledore.

'The day of the attack is very close to the full moon. If I don't drink the potion this month, I might be able to—'

'Don't be stupid, Lupin,' Figg snapped. 'In your werewolf form you'd be as much a danger to the Muggles as anyone else.'

'Not if I go with him,' Sirius said. He shrugged. 'Only one of Voldemort's followers knows about my animagus form, and I doubt he'll be there. I can keep Remus out of trouble and help him take care of the Death Eaters. It's not foolproof by a long shot, but it may work better than anything else we come up with.'

'And how are the Muggles going to react to the presence of a werewolf?' The aristocrat said dryly.

'Have a little faith in the authorities, Melchior. Muggle governments have dealt with stray werewolves before. They'll put the word out that a couple of dangerous dogs are on the loose, the Muggles will be timid for a few weeks, and it'll all blow over.'

Melchior rolled his eyes disbelievingly, but said nothing.

'It sounds feasible,' Snape said tentatively.

'High praise,' Sirius snorted.

'The two of them might be able to scare some of the Muggles away before the attack begins—'

'We'll have to be sure there are no Muggle dog-catchers nearby—'

'Dog-catchers won't be a problem for an Animagus and a werewolf—'

Harry listened to the others talking around him with a growing sense of horror. Snatches of the dream flashed through his mind. No—he couldn't—what if Sirius or Remus became one of those bodies, mangled beyond recognition? They couldn't possibly do something so dangerous!

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for Draco's voice cut clearly through the rest: 'You can't do it.'

Sirius turned to glare at him. 'What are you talking about? We can make it work.'

Draco shook his head. He looked as though where he was standing was the last place on earth he wanted to be, but he stood his ground. 'You can't go. Especially you. Let someone else do it.'

'No one else here could,' Remus said quietly. Draco was still staring at Sirius.

'But you're Harry's godfather! You're all the family he has!'

'Family is very important to you, isn't it, Malfoy?' Mad-Eye Moody said, his magical eye staring through the crowd directly at Draco. There was no hint of accusation in his voice, but Draco flushed and fell silent. Harry remembered how eerily intense Moody's gaze was, as though he could see to the back of you head. Which he probably could.

'Sacrifices must be made to reach any goal,' Dumbledore cut in gravely, looking all the while at Harry. 'We are at a point where we must tread carefully. Remus and Sirius's idea is the only workable plan we have, and if they are willing, we must carry it through. Do you understand?'

Harry nodded slowly. Dumbledore was right. He'd been panicking. It struck Harry how selfish he'd been—a moment ago, he would easily have left all those people to die out of a desire to keep Sirius with him.

'Is there anything we can do to drive off Voldemort's agents in Azkaban?' Snape asked. 'He'll be expecting us to take action, and a simultaneous attack there will keep attention away from what happens in the Underground.'

An immediate and intense discussion broke out among a group of men near Dumbledore. One wizard squinted back at Snape. 'What are you hoping for, exactly?'

'A distraction, a hoax. Anything that will keep attention away from London; preferably something that will keep the agents out of Azkaban for a while.'

There was another, brief huddle and the spokeswizard turned back with a nasty smile. 'I'm sure we can work something out.'

Snape returned the smile, nodding his thanks.

'All right,' Dumbledore said. 'Does anyone have anything else to report?'

The man called Melchior shrugged. 'Ministry's getting titchy. People are beginning to draw lines in the sand and many of ours are calling for Cornelius's replacement. You can't see it from the outside yet, but the whole shebang's breaking up.'

'I see. I suppose it was a little far-fetched to hope that the Ministry would hold together without him.'

'Afraid so.'

'Anything more?' Silence. 'Then we are adjourned.'

Again, the group disappeared quickly. Harry imagined that most of the wizards were very busy people, and would fly out of Hogwarts immediately. Hermione was tugging on Ron's arm ('I have to get that homework done! No, I can't take the night off!'), so they bade Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore good night and left. On their way to the gargoyle, they passed Draco. He looked back at Harry with a small, bewildered frown and said, 'How can you do it? How can you just watch and listen and accept it all?'

'Get away, Malfoy,' Ron said, although without his usual roughness. Harry guessed that some of the things Draco said had struck a chord in him. Draco nodded and drifted out of sight.

'I wonder what he meant by that?' Hermione mused.

'Who knows what goes on in that head?' said Ron. 'Personally, I couldn't care less. Come on, do you want to do that homework or not?'

He walked ahead of them. Then he began to run.

'Why are you in such a hurry?' Harry called up the passage.

'I left Hogwarts in the common room! If Fred and George get hold of it, I'm dead!'

... ... Draco's lips pressed, warm, to Harry's; Draco's hand in his as the wand fell. The cold wall behind him and Draco's other hand moving through his hair; the touch of a tongue begging entry, the rush of cold air as he stepped away...

... ...

... ... Harry emitted a frustrated growl as he woke. Why was he so fixated by that one memory? Since the Hogsmeade visit, the only night he hadn't dreamed of Draco was the one in which he'd been haunted by visions of the Underground attack.

Ron's voice filtered through the curtains drawn around the bed. 'Are you awake, Harry?'

'Yes,' Harry flicked the curtains aside and blinked in the sharp sunlight streaming through the window. 'What's the time?'

'About time you got up,' Dean said. 'Honestly, Harry, one night you wake us all up screaming, the next we can't sleep for the sound of your snores! We have got Double Potions to get through this morning, you know.'

Harry swore.

'Hey, at least you got a full night's sleep in,' Dean went on petulantly. 'Whatever you were dreaming about, it must have been really wonderful for you to want to stay there so long.'

Harry felt his ears begin to burn. Ron grinned.

'I bet it was Cho,' he said. 'When are you going to get around to asking her out, Harry? The suspense is killing us all. You'd better hurry up with it, I think she's beginning to get impatient. She's certainly been watching you a lot the past few days.'

Harry blinked. 'She has?'

The other four boys in the room exchanged glances. 'You mean you haven't noticed?' Seamus said slowly.

'No...' Harry shrugged. 'I suppose I've been too distracted.'

'Yeah,' Dean said. 'You must have been very distracted.'

Ten minutes later Harry and Ron joined Hermione in the Great Hall. Through breakfast, Harry kept stealing glances at the Ravenclaw table. Ron was right; there was barely a time when he looked over that Cho wasn't gazing in his direction as well. He smiled. Perhaps he would ask her out, soon. Very soon.

But Cho wasn't the only thing on his mind that morning. It was fast becoming apparent that he was going to have to do something about the dreams. They hadn't progressed any further than the memory of the kiss, thankfully, but the persistence of those images was...irksome. And while the dream recalled every detail of the event almost exactly, the revulsion Harry had felt only came when he woke up.

He hadn't told anyone about them, but he thought he was going to have to. Harry decided immediately that Ron and Hermione were out of the question; he could imagine Ron's reaction and didn't like it at all. Perhaps Cho...Harry glanced at the Ravenclaw table again, and shook his head. If he couldn't tell her before, he wouldn't be able to now. He briefly considered going to McGonagall, but dropped that line of thought quickly. If she didn't know about Draco, she wasn't to find out. Besides, the Professor, for all that she was a good person, was somehow too straitlaced for Harry to talk to—especially about something like this. Dumbledore? Well, he might be able to help. Harry had never regretted following the Headmaster's advice before, but he didn't want to bother the man more than he already was. And...

...Dumbledore was, to a certain extent, like a grandfather to him. Harry didn't want to break that, certainly not by asking him about something as...disgusting...as this.

So that left...

Harry pushed his plate aside so that he could bang his head on the table. Ron gave him an extremely odd look.

'Are you okay there?'

'I just realised something,' Harry groaned.

'What?'

'We have Double Potions this morning!'

Seamus shot him a puzzled frown. 'We know. So did you. Dean told you when you woke up, remember?'

'Yes, but...we've got Double Potions this morning!'

'Harry, we know,' Hermione told him. 'And we're going to be late if you don't get a move on. Come on, you're going to give yourself concussion if you keep doing that. Don't you think that's just a bit of an overreaction?'

'No,' Ron said. Hermione turned an exasperated glare on him, grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

'Come on,' she said briskly. 'You've survived two sessions with Snape before, you can do it again.'

Yes, Harry thought gloomily. But two sessions and a lunch-hour? Of my own accord?

The first two sessions actually weren't that bad. Even the Slytherins had found the examinations difficult to cope with, and Snape must have decided to ease up on them slightly. He set the class theoretical work rather than practical for once, and as long as Harry kept himself fairly inconspicuous he wasn't forced to answer too many impossible questions. When class ended, Snape disappeared into his office. Harry sat and waited for the rest of the class to leave, waving Ron and Hermione away with a gesture and a rueful smile. They looked puzzled, but left anyway. Harry knew that they had their own plans to carry out, mostly involving each other.

A few minutes later, Harry knocked quietly at the door to Snape's office.

'It's open and I forgot to set the Biting Charm this morning, so you might as well come in,' the professor's voice was surly. Harry entered cautiously. Snape's eyes filled with immediate dislike as he looked around. A steaming mug was clasped in his hands.

'If you've come to beg me to change your grades, Potter, the answer is no. And it's not changing, either.'

'It's not that.' Harry eyed the mug suspiciously. 'What's in that?'

'Coffee,' Snape growled.

'Black?'

The professor shot him a withering look. 'You know it all, don't you Potter?' he sneered, putting the mug down. By the looks of things, it had a fair amount of milk in it. 'Well, why are you in here? Lose your way getting to the Great Hall?'

'Grant me a little intelligence,' Harry snapped. Snape blinked. 'I need to talk to you. It's—it's about Draco.'

Snape sighed wearily. 'What has he done now?'

'No, it's not...he hasn't done anything but...'

'You have to speak if you want to talk, Potter,' the Potions Master said impatiently.

Harry flushed. 'I've been having dreams about him.'

Snape was silent for a very long time, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. Harry felt himself becoming increasingly red. 'Stop looking at me like that! I came here for your help!'

'Help from me?' Snape gave a short, brittle laugh. 'What do you want me to do, Potter? Mix up a potion to make the nightmares go away?'

'It's not funny.' The quiet hurt in Harry's voice must have got through to Snape, because his cold expression faltered a little.

'I'm sorry, Potter, but I'm more inclined to worry about Draco than you at the moment. My guess would be that these dreams of yours are trying to tell you something you'd rather not hear.'

Harry swallowed, although his mouth was dry. 'I'm not gay, Snape. I'm not. Stop trying to force the idea on me, I don't want Draco, I'm not gay!'

Snape's expression hardened. 'I never said that. And while you stand there and whine about your little night-time problems, why don't you try looking at things from that boy's perspective. He's been through a hell of a lot, Harry. When Draco did what he did, he wasn't just going out on a limb, he jumped out of the tree. He was relying on you to catch him and you dropped him like a diseased rat! Think about that the next time you're feeling sorry for yourself.'

Harry stared at him. 'Why do you care about him so much?'

Snape's eyes became black icicles. His voice was a low, frosty growl. 'Why don't you?'

Harry's breath came in short, unbelieving snatches. Snape's words were far more than the malicious jabs that were the man's stock in trade, and they cut him to the bone. Harry saw a wall of pent-up emotion behind Snape's eyes, most of which he either couldn't or didn't want to comprehend.

'You weren't like this last time we spoke.'

'You might recall I was drunk at the time,' Snape said in steely tones.

'I see. Well, this was obviously a waste of my time.'

Harry backed away, reaching behind him to open the door. Snape's cold gaze never left his face even as it swung closed between them. Harry leaned against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe. He felt as though he'd just fallen through extremely thin ice.

'Hi, Harry.'

He looked up. Cho was walking down the corridor to him, smiling. He smiled weakly back. 'Hi, Cho.'

Her eyes darted to the door of Snape's office and back at him. 'Just had an argument?'

'Something like that.'

Cho tilted her head back, appraising him. 'Harry, would you mind if I did a reading on you?'

'Hasn't your class started scrying yet?'

'Well, yes, but...' Cho pulled a pack of ornate cards from her pocket, laughing. 'I'm rapidly becoming obsessed with these things. Please?'

Harry smiled, beginning to relax. Being around Cho was exactly what he needed. 'Fine. Where to?'

'The Library.'.

Madam Pince looked around sharply as they entered, but smiled and went quietly back to cataloguing the grimoires. Apparently Cho was a frequent and welcome visitor. They sat opposite each other in a secluded corner, and Cho pushed the deck toward Harry.

'Shuffle,' she commanded.

Harry watched Cho as he flicked the cards through his hands. Her eyes were alive with a special kind of curiosity he hadn't come across before. He got the feeling that she wanted to know about him simply to know, not to judge. It was a pleasant feeling. Perhaps he should have gone to her instead of Snape. Cho would have understood everything, he was sure. And she wouldn't judge Draco, either.

He handed the cards back to her. 'Deal.'

With a small smile Cho began to lay the cards out.

'The Celtic Cross,' Harry noted.

'You didn't think I'd be satisfied with just a three-card spread?'

'Why not? It always suited me: past, present, future. Easy.'

'Yes, but I like doing it this way. You can see more.' Cho put the tenth card down and took a notebook from a pocket concealed somewhere in the folds of her robes. She began taking notes on the spread.

'So what have I got?' Harry said, glancing at the spread.

'Just give me a minute...' Cho's eyebrows were knotted in a small frown of concentration. After a moment she paused to flick a few pages back. Her eyes widened. 'Well, now...that's interesting...'

'What is?'

'Your reading...it looks a lot like...'

'Yes?'

'...Malfoy's...'

Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop away. 'What does that mean?'

'I don't know. It could be just a coincidence, but...well, Trelawney would glance at a pair of spreads like this and say your fates were entwined.'

Harry snorted, about to comment on the Professor's dubious talents, but Cho cut him off. 'I know she's mostly a fraud, Harry. But she does know her work, and it's very rare to get two spreads so similar—especially so close together. I only took Malfoy's reading a couple of days ago.'

'Well, what's my reading?'

Cho pursed her lips. 'You're Covered by the Page of Cups, and I'd say that represents a person who is at the heart of an issue in your life at the moment. A young, pale person—Cups usually indicate fair skin and hair, and light eyes, and Pages typically symbolise youth. I'd also judge that the issue has some sort of emotional implication, since Cups represent the heart.

'This person is Crossed by the Devil, which could be taken to mean that self-imposed bonds are holding you back in resolving the problem. The Devil can also represent a destructive person; a shadow.'

'Sounds like Voldemort,' Harry muttered.

'I'd take more notice of the self-imposed bonds part, Harry,' Cho said gently. 'The Devil represents great obstacles but it usually centres on what is within you, not what is on the outside.

'Beneath you is Judgement.'

Harry laughed. 'I know some people who'd have a few things to say about that.'

She smiled. 'Judgement represents rebirth: the end of an old cycle and the beginning of a new one. In this case it shows past influences, so perhaps something has happened in the past—some kind of conclusion, or something has begun again, which is still affecting you now?'

Harry's eyes clouded over. 'Conclusion and rebirth? Yeah, that'd be fair to say.' Conclusion of Cedric's life and the rebirth of Voldemort. That's holding plenty of sway over my life at the moment.

'Behind you is the Ace of Cups; a return to emotions, I see. Something has happened in the recent past to stir new feelings in you. This is a very good card; it deals with positive feelings, especially love.'

'I can't think of anything like that.' Harry's brow furrowed. 'Except...'

'Except...?'

He shook his head, blushing slightly. 'Never mind, it doesn't matter. It can't be right anyway.'

Cho looked at him strangely, but continued. 'You're Crowned by the reversed Moon. This means that you will have an opportunity to begin to think more clearly about the issue, but the Moon, even when reversed, can also represent illusions, secrets and danger.' Cho bit her lip. 'This position shows future possibilities. Be careful, Harry.

'The Wheel of Time is Before you—in the near future, you will come to a conclusion in relation to the problem, and will make a fresh start.

'Your Querent card is the Two of Swords, which is odd. Swords usually represent people with dark hair and light eyes, which you have, but the olive complexion usually associated with Swords throws the picture slightly askew. The card indicates that you are at an impasse, and don't know quite what to do; which way to go. You could be suppressing some important emotions. Given the emotional tendency of the spread so far, I would start listening closely to what is in your heart.

'The Seven of Wands here indicates that you are daunted by the opinions of those around you, but what you fear may well be non-existent. Despite the opposition you perceive, you can still resolve the problem.

'The Justice card shows that you expect to be judged, and given the previous card I would say that you're afraid of that judgement—but you hope it will be a fair one, don't you?' Cho glanced up briefly, a strange, unknown emotion sparking in her eyes before she looked back at the notebook. 'Then there is the final outcome: the Nine of Swords.'

'The card of despair,' Harry recalled.

'Yes.'

'So the problem can be resolved, but all it will bring is despair,' Harry said heavily. 'Wonderful. How is Malfoy's reading like mine?'

'Well, let's see...the core of his problem is also crossed by the Devil. He also has the Ace of Cups behind him, but it's reversed—he's been rejected.'

Harry's mouth dropped open. Cho, not seeing his reaction, continued. 'He has the Wheel of Time before him as well, and the Nine of Swords as the outcome. And,' she chewed her lower lip, 'this is very strange. You aren't Covered by the same card, and you don't have the same Querent card either. But you are Covered by each other's Querent.'

Harry blinked. 'Come again?'

'Draco is covered by the Two of Swords.'

'Me,' Harry said softly.

'Perhaps. And Malfoy's Self is the Page of Cups

'So he's my problem.' Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'Cho, there's something--'

'There's something else I didn't tell you about the Page of Cups,' Cho cut over him suddenly. 'It—I noted it in Malfoy's reading.'

She pushed the notebook across to him and sat back, watching him pensively. Harry stared at the notes scribbled under the heading of Self. Between the accurate descriptions of a pale, emotional youth, were two words that had been faintly underlined. He noticed that the underline rose slightly across the page, as though Cho had wanted to strike the words away:

Possibly homosexual?

Harry passed the notebook back, drawing a slow breath. 'What made you put that particular note down?'

Cho flushed, clasping the book tightly. Harry was disconcerted; it was the first time he'd seen her look nervous.

'I've been watching him, just lately,' she said. 'I noticed that he stares at you a lot, and the way he looks at you—' she faltered, then went on, more quietly. 'Let's say that if I saw a girl looking at a boy that way I'd swear black and blue she was smitten. And there's more, too,' Cho rushed on as Harry opened his mouth. 'He—he can't touch girls, Harry. I've seen the way he keeps away from them in crowds, and when I dropped the pack in front of him—when he was handing it back, it almost fell again because he was so afraid of our fingers brushing. And when he speaks to you, he seems—I don't know—more interested...'

'More interested than when?'

'Than anytime. It's—he just seems to be more intent on living when he's around you.'

Harry stared at her. 'You're very perceptive, Cho.'

She stared at the ground. 'That's not a compliment, though, is it?'

He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair again. 'It might have been, if this wasn't so serious. What do you think all this means, then?'

Cho was silent for a long time. When she did speak, her voice was measured, and very carefully clinical. 'I think that Malfoy does have feelings for you, which he may have been hiding for a while, but something terrible happened to him recently—beneath him is the Ten of Swords—to make him begin to give up. Something that might have prompted him to—to try to show you how he felt. But you didn't react the way he was hoping, and that was why he...did what he did to himself, wasn't it?'

Harry was silent, waiting for her to continue.

'All this has created a lot of tension between you—'

'There's always been tension between Malfoy and I. It's called enmity.'

'Yes, but there's even more tension now, and you're not exactly enemies any more. You've stopped fighting, at least. I think the tension is the unresolved problem between you; you're both being held back from resolving that by self-imposed restraints. I think Malfoy is afraid to do anything to drive you further away from him. But you...I think that whatever happened affected you more than you admit, even to yourself...'

Harry shook his head. 'I don't want to hear this, Cho. Yes, Malfoy kissed me, and that's why he tried to kill himself, because I pushed him away, I understand that. You're right about that. But I...I'm not like him. I've been through this once already today. I'm not gay.' He couldn't keep the rising desperation out of his words.

'I never said that,' Cho said in a very small voice. Harry's head jerked a little at the way she echoed Snape. 'And the cards don't say it either. I just think you've been affected more than you let on, and you're not going to get out of this situation until you do. You've got to forget about whatever's holding you back and try to solve the problem, whatever you perceive it to be. You need to get past this and on to other things.'

'What's the point?' he said, pointing to the Nine of Swords. 'It'll all end in tears anyway.'

'I honestly don't know what that card might be warning of, Harry,' Cho said quietly. 'But I can tell you that if you don't try to patch things up with Malfoy, it will probably be worse. Much worse.'

'Whatever the cards say goes, is that it?'

'No. Whatever goes, the cards say.' She began to pick up the cards, shuffling them absently back into the deck. 'I need to go now. Sorry, Harry.' She paused to tear the two readings from the notebook, and pressed them into Harry's hand as she leant forward to kiss him softly on the cheek, in the same spot she had before. Then she stood and disappeared quickly among the shelves.

Harry stared at the two pieces of paper in his palm. 'I never said that...the cards don't either.'

But they do, he thought miserably. Because the only way to solve this is if I...if I let him—let us...

That's the only way to make Draco happy.

... .... ... And what about me?