All Torn Down

by Obake

Draco's world has been turned upside down, and he is left searching for a ray of light.

10. Dawn and Darkness

Rating: R

Warnings: If you're under 15 years old, you shouldn't be here. The chapter contains slash, het, and coarse language. If you can't handle all of that, the Back button shouldn't be too difficult to locate.

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: Fei, diprezant - truly madly deeply, Hollie Ishida, K. Ashley (More about Kieran will be forthcoming in the next few chapters; Snape's past will take a while longer to fill out.), Shoujo Kitsune, VoodooDaisuke, Queen of Cyrum, Canarde, Jessica (I didn't enjoy writing chapter eight so much, and maybe that got into my writing a little. It was largely an interim chapter to keep things moving. I am glad you liked chapter nine, though. Kieran is interesting, sure enough, and a master of secrets. When he ran into the forest, he had something to report—that will play itself out in upcoming chapters. Voldemort's intent was to torture each of the children in turn, but that was abandoned because of the uproar Draco caused when he caught the amplified curse, so yes, he would have been hurt either way.), Prophetess of Hearts, Heather, Deia Shanti, Darkrose, windblown (Glad you liked it. ^^ Here's another one.), Walks-the-Umbra, saiko, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, SoulSister, Demeter, Young, Scratches (*Rolls on the floor laughing* You've made my day. Draco's still smarting from the 'helpless and kind of bitchy' comment, however accurate it is. You have my permission to shoot at Pansy at will, but she won't be going down in the story for some time yet. And yes, his surname is Harper.), kristy, Sorceress Jade and Evil Windstar, Wednesday, oracle, S. Maldiva (Draco wouldn't be Draco if he couldn't still grind the boot in on occasion. Pansy has a large role to play yet and the edge of humanity will remain there, I think, but it will grow fairly twisted. Ron is being pushed on all sides to accept Draco, and he's taking it hard. You'll see what happens.), Myr (Harry/Draco is getting very, very close—beginning at the end of the next chapter.)

Apologies to everyone for making you wait so long before this was updated. I'd completely forgotten how much school could cramp writing time. Since it's Year 12 and I'm actually intending to study a bit this year, the time between updates will probably be a bit longer from now on—most likely about three weeks between each.

To answer a question that has been asked a few times lately: I have every intent of completing All Torn Down, and of writing its sequel. I have plans to continue the story until the end of the seventh year, so don't worry. It will just take time.

Thanks to Apocalypse for beta-reading again.

All Torn Down: Dawn and Darkness

Hope, in pity mock not Woe

With smiles, nor follow where I go;

Long having lived on thy sweet food,

At length I find one moment's good

After long pain—with all your love,

This you never told me of.

—Away, Away!, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Professor McGonagall's note lay folded in Harry's pocket as he and the other young members of the Order faced their instructors. It was a curt summons: time, place, and don't forget.

The time was ten o'clock at night and the place was the transfiguration classroom, which still had not completely recovered from Draco's midnight outburst at the beginning of the year. None of them had forgotten, although Neville was a few minutes late because he had to locate Trevor beforehand.

McGonagall had apparently been elected as spokesperson through some unspoken agreement between the teachers. Behind them, Professor Figg scribbled a ring of sigils into the floor with a stub of white chalk, the desks having been pushed away against the walls. Remus and Mad-Eye Moody were trying to manhandle a large object draped with stained cloth through the door. Snape stood beside Professor McGonagall's desk, scowling at the back wall.

'Professor Dumbledore has asked that you begin your training in the Great Arts. What you learn tonight will be used to defend yourself against a specific enemy.' Professor McGonagall looked none too happy about this. 'You will learn to cast a Patronus, and to brew a truth potion.'

Hermione's brow creased. 'Professor, what—'

'Keep a hold!' Moody growled as Remus's grip on the object slipped. 'Constant vigilance, you fool!'

They watched the pair grapple the thing into the centre of the ring and stood it up. Hermione tried again as the cloth was removed: 'What are we going to be fighting?'

The cloth fell away. McGonagall's lips tightened. 'A Dementor, Miss Granger.'

And it was: a perfect Dementor, sculpted of stone. Ron gaped in horror.

'No way—we can't fight one of those!'

'You can and will, Mr Weasley,' Snape snapped. 'The Dark Lord is riveted on taking Azkaban and if he does, Dementors will be among the most dangerous creatures you'll come up against. So you can do this now, while you have tutors and wards protecting you, or try to learn in a few years when one of these is descending upon you. Understand?'

Ron glared. 'Yes, sir.'

Snape looked at McGonagall. 'Are you done?'

'Yes.'

'Good. I have cauldrons and ingredients to find.' He disappeared through the door in a billow of black robes.

McGonagall stepped up to the statue, flanked by Mrs Figg. 'This is the only transfigured Dementor in existence. In a moment Professor Figg and I will undo the spell on it. Once it is returned to its original state, you will take turns to step inside the ring and attempt to cast the Patronus. Mr Potter, I understand that you already know the spell, but you will still need to practice. Now—'

'Excuse me…' All eyes swivelled to Draco. It was the first time he had spoken since he entered the room. 'Why don't you just teach us to transfigure it back?'

'It would kiss you before you could cast the spell. The wizard who did this didn't escape from the Dementor's kiss before it took full effect. He spent the rest of his days in St Mungo's Hospital.'

Draco bit his lip. 'Are you sure those sigils will be enough to hold it?'

Professor Figg bristled. 'I would thank you not to question my ability again, Malfoy.' Her brow quirked upwards. 'After all, how do you think the Dementors are kept from leaving Azkaban?'

Draco's eyes widened; Ron gave a low whistle of admiration. 'I see.'

'About time you did. I don't know; children these days have no respect for history. Shall we get started, Minerva?'

Harry had never seen anything like this before. The spell required both women to chant with their wands raised and pointed at the statue. Magic, visible and wafting through the air in shifting colours, drifted between them and settled over the statue's form. Ending the chant, Figg and McGonagall leaped away. A line of darkness formed at the top of the statue and sliced downward, jagged through the luminous colour. More cracks appeared, until the shell of magic exploded away, causing Neville to yell and the rest of them to jump. Motes of light streamed to the edges of the ring and disappearing on impact with the sigils.

The freed Dementor loomed in the centre of the ring. It turned its hood to face the group outside the ring, and raised one scabbed hand, reaching out to them as though ravenous. Without thinking, the children bunched closer together.

'Right,' said Professor Figg. 'This is how it's done—pay attention!'

She held her wand before her like a weapon, and grimly stepped within the ring. The Dementor immediately turned its attention on her, and began to advance. Figg snarled, and with a maniacal grin cried, 'Expecto patronum!'

Harry watched a familiar silver mist rush from her wand, rapidly taking the form of a large cat as it raced toward the Dementor. The creature backed away as the Patronus hissed and scratched at it, and sank to the floor in defeat as it moved onto the sigils. Professor Figg stepped calmly away to safety, and the cat vanished.

Ron was the first to be able to utter a sound afterward: 'Whoa...'

To his surprise, Harry saw Draco nod in silent agreement.

'The trick,' Figg said briskly, 'is to concentrate on a happy thought or memory. Remember every detail, remember the charm, and let the Dementor have it. It's very advanced magic—you all know that—so don't be disappointed when you don't get it right the first time around. Don't muck about trying to stay in the ring while the Dementor's getting close to you. Never forget that thing is real—' She paused to point at the creature, which was beginning to collect itself— 'And as dangerous as any in Azkaban. Before you try again, take a Chocolate Frog from Mr Lupin. All right, Miss Granger, go.'

Hermione was trembling as she stepped into the ring. The four professors looked at each other and moved closer in, at the same time gesturing for the children to stay near the walls.

The Dementor turned its hood to her and Hermione went white.

'Expecto—ex—expecto patronum—expecto patronum—' she whispered desperately. 'Expecto patronum...'

The creature drifted towards her, hands outstretched. Hermione yelped—so did Neville—and sprang away from it.

'Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!' A formless cloud of silver drifted from her wand. She shook it wildly and tried again. 'Expecto patronum!'

'You'd better get out of there,' Professor McGonagall said. 'Miss Granger—Hermione—'

'Expecto—' Hermione's legs gave way as she struggled back to the edges of the ring. Mad-Eye Moody reached out and caught her as she fell, dragging her body from the ring.

Ron gave an unintelligible cry and ran over as Remus produced a Chocolate Frog, only to be shooed by Mrs Figg. Slowly the colour returned to Hermione's face and she stood up.

'That was awful!'

'Nonsense, you did well for your first time...'

Neville was still shaking, staring at Hermione as she crossed the room to them, then at the Dementor. Draco shot him a disdainful look.

'Dry up, will you? It's your turn next; how well do you think you'll do facing it like that?'

Neville gulped.

'Leave him alone,' Harry muttered. Draco looked startled, and imperceptibly hurt. He wandered off and stood a few feet away, staring gloomily at the ring. Harry sighed.

'Never mind, Neville,' Ron said. 'You'll do all right, he's only trying to scare you.'

'It worked.'

Snape entered the room, clanging cauldrons, as Neville moved forward at McGonagall's beckoning. The cauldrons were deposited on the floor, and Neville entered the ring.

After a few moments spent rooted to the spot and whimpering, he was hauled out again by Professor Figg and given a Chocolate Frog.

Draco snorted. Harry clenched his teeth and walked over to where he was standing.

'Don't you dare laugh.'

Again the startled look, before Draco's expression became closed. 'Why shouldn't I? I know I'll be laughed at when I go into that ring.'

'No, you won't.'

'Really? It's just the sort of entertainment Weasley likes most.'

'I'll step on his foot.'

Draco's eyebrows rose. 'You'd do that for me?'

Harry sighed. 'Don't, Draco. I'm just tired of the way you keep fighting.'

'Ah. So, naturally, we have to stop. Oh, look—they've given him another Frog, lucky boy...'

Harry's eyes flashed. 'Do you know what he was probably being forced to remember just then?'

Draco cast a sideways glance at him. 'Why does it matter? Everyone has bad memories.'

'You don't know why your father makes all those donations to St Mungo's, do you?'

Harry watched the grey eyes slide from his face to watch Neville, who was just beginning to regain composure. Grim realisation dawned in them. Draco gave a heavy sigh. 'What did he do?'

'He tortured Neville's parents. With Cruciatus--he was interrogating them, but they went mad. Neville visits them with his Gran, and...that's probably what he was remembering.'

Draco stared at the floor. 'It doesn't end, does it?' he muttered, then laughed, bitterly. 'At least now I know why everyone treats him like a hero. Poor thing's probably been struggling to cope with that all his life.'

'Malfoy...'

'Do you remember the last meeting of the Order, Harry?' Draco looked up, and the pain in his eyes was so sharp Harry took a step back from it. 'Everyone was so proud of him. Look, Neville had to persuade his Granny to let him go! The soldier of light returning to his post; that's how he was treated.

'They weren't proud of me. I came with the tag of Malfoy; I was born up to my neck in the Dark Side and of course that meant I must be a rat. Of course it did.'

'Draco, I—'

'I was told once that I'm not a Malfoy any more, you know. But if that's true, why does everyone still shut me out because of it?'

'Mr Malfoy! Your turn.'

Draco looked to where McGonagall was impatiently standing and nodded. Casting a last, melancholy glance at Harry, he went to the ring.

Harry turned slightly and saw Snape watching him, the depths of his black eyes unreadable. A scream rent the air, tearing their attention from each other and to the ring.

Draco was crouched in the centre of the ring, his wand quivering as he pointed it at the Dementor with trembling hands. 'Ex-expecto—expect—patro—expecto—'

The professors were reaching out to him, but he avoided their hands as desperately as he tried to keep away from the looming Dementor. He whirled around and away from them, eyes wild and wide, and pierced with terror.

Harry hurried back to the others, who were watching tensely. Even Ron looked worried.

'I hate to think what he's seeing right now,' Hermione whispered.

Ron crowed. 'Yes, get him, Remus!—Oh, he got away...'

'Why won't he just get out of the ring?' Neville quavered.

'I don't think he realises it's there any more.'

The Dementor was chasing Draco, and he didn't dare take his eyes from it now. He faltered to the centre of the ring, and Harry watched in horror as Draco sank to his knees, beyond the reach of the professors. The Dementor drew close and raised a hand to lift its hood away.

Professor Snape shoved through the knot of teachers around the ring and whirled his wand.

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!'

There was a blast of light and a silver rose shot from his wand. It spun around the Dementor, which backed away from the thorns. As it sank down, Remus dived into the circle and pulled Draco out.

As soon as he was out of the chill influence of the Dementor, Draco staggered to his feet and wrestled away from Remus, his face still contorted with terror. The two faced each other tensely. Remus produced a Chocolate Frog and held it out, waiting for Draco to come back to himself and take it.

'No,' Snape growled. He took Draco by the arm and led him away, speaking quietly until the fear evaporated from the youth's expression. Draco spoke, and a short, intense exchange followed.

'Potter, your turn,' McGonagall said. She looked extremely shaken. 'Be careful.'

Harry stepped forward, nerves on edge. What on earth did it do to Draco?

'Wait.' Harry paused, looked around at Draco, who took an uncertain step forward. 'I'll try again.'

'Wait until your next turn, Malfoy,' Figg said. 'You can't have fully recovered yet.'

'But—'

'Drop it, boy,' Mad-Eye Moody said. 'You can wait a while before trying that trick again.'

Draco's expression became cold, but Harry had a nasty feeling it was directed inward. He seemed on the verge of arguing, but was wise enough to fall silent under Moody's glare. He backed away into the shadows, watching Harry.

Harry stepped into the ring. A wave of ice crashed over him. The Dementor had fully recovered, and rushed forward. He jumped away and scrambled to the opposite side of the ring, putting as much distance between himself and the creature as possible. As it turned, he felt himself begin to fall through the familiar fog in his mind, and heard the distant screams of his mother, growing louder.

'Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!' I've done this before, why isn't it working? 'Expecto patronum!' Happy thoughts—happy memories...getting the Firebolt—finding out about Prongs—being allowed into Hogsmeade—Dudley's face when he swallowed the Ton-Tongue Toffee—

—Draco's lips, and the caress of his hand, and the way his eyes shone just for that moment...the way he healed me in the examination...tried to get Sirius not to go to the Underground...silver hair with a tinge of green potion—

The thoughts, memories, and suppressed emotions swelled up inside of Harry with all the force of floodwater breaking against a dam wall. He let them come.

'Expecto patronum!'

Prongs shot from the tip of his wand in a blaze of silver, galloping at the Dementor with his head down. The creature shrank back and fell to the floor at the edge of the ring, shaking.

The silver stag turned to face Harry with calm, knowing eyes. Harry lifted his hand, as he had before, to touch it. As had happened that night in his third year, Prongs vanished under his fingertips.

Flushed and trembling from the rush of memories, Harry stepped out of the ring and wandered away. The room was silent around him, until Professor Figg said in a subdued voice, 'Mr Weasley, it's your turn. Well done, Potter.'

Harry barely heard her. Ron looked at him in consternation as he passed.

'You all right, Harry?'

He nodded and continued to where the others were watching.

'That was amazing,' Neville muttered. Harry grunted.

Hermione frowned. 'Is something wrong?'

'Hm?' Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind. 'No. I just realised something, that's all.'

He glanced across the room to the shadow-strewn wall opposite where Draco watched the rest of the room with dull eyes, hunched beside a desk. On impulse, Harry crossed over to him. His gaze shifted and focussed on Harry as he came close.

'Brilliant,' Draco said, voice flat. 'Absolutely amazing. Well done, Harry Potter.'

'Draco, I...'

He gave a sudden, sorrowful smile. 'You're always ahead, aren't you? You just can't help it, you've got to be always that little bit in front of me...'

'I've done it before.'

'I know. But...nevertheless...' Draco's gaze strayed to the silvery glow in the air behind him. Harry turned, seeing Ron in the centre of a cloud of Patronus mist, repeating the spell, his face set. The Dementor seemed to be having a little trouble with the mist, but it still managed to force its way to him. Ron tried to step around it, but it was too close. He sprang away from its reaching hands, landing outside the border of the ring. 'He's doing well, too. I never got that far.'

Hermione stepped up for her second attempt.

'I fainted the first time I tried to fight one of these.' Draco grunted, and Harry sighed. 'Will you come back over to the rest of us?'

'Why bother?'

'Why not?' Harry countered. His tone softened, just a little. 'You don't need to keep isolating yourself, Draco.'

A blaze of silver; not from any Patronus but burning in Draco's eyes. 'Isolating myself? Harry—' He paused, and the angry light faded from his eyes. He sighed. 'Never mind. You couldn't understand...' There was a rush of light from the ring. Hermione's Patronus was struggling to take form. 'Why do you want me there?'

'Dumbledore wanted us to work together. How can we do that if we can't be together?'

Draco gave a devious grin. 'Is that an invitation?'

'Not that kind. You know what I mean.'

The smile dropped away, leaving only bitterness. 'Of course I do.' Hermione stumbled from the ring, swiftly replaced with Neville. 'All right. To make you happy.'

Harry smiled, and held out a hand to help him up. Draco ignored it, and stood on his own. He moved slightly ahead of Harry, who followed, noticing the flare of dislike in Ron's expression as he caught sight of them. Hermione was still recovering from the cold projected by the Dementor, and Harry wished he'd waited for her to come back before throwing the two enemies together.

'Nice stunt you pulled, Malfoy.'

'Well your mist was very pretty, but it didn't do much, did it?'

Ron shrugged. 'I knew when to get out of the ring.'

'You ran away.'

Ron flushed, and he snapped around, glaring at Draco. 'You—'

'Leave off, both of you,' Harry muttered. 'Please. It's your turn, Draco. Good luck.'

Draco gave a curt nod and walked away. Ron turned to Harry.

'What did you bring him over here for?'

Harry bit his lip, taken aback by his friend's anger. 'It's not good for him to be alone. Dumbledore asked us all to work together.'

'And he seemed very eager to cooperate just then, didn't he?'

'He was defending himself! You were the one who started that argument, Ron.' Harry's anger rose on Draco's behalf as Ron rolled his eyes. 'Listen to me. Draco was watching you before and he said you were doing well!'

Ron stared, disbelieving, and slumped back against the wall. They gazed ahead in tense silence, tied up in their own thoughts.

'What's wrong?' Hermione's voice jolted them back into awareness. She glanced from one to the other in concern.

Ron shrugged, sighed. 'Nothing, really. Just a little argument.'

Her brow arched. 'Having a lover's tiff without me, Ron? That's hardly fair.'

Harry grinned as his friend turned bright red and muttered a feeble defence. Hermione laughed, her arms flying about his neck. Ron pulled her close, ears still flaming. 'That wasn't fair.'

'No, but it was fun.'

'That's no excu—' Ron's voice trailed off as he raised his eyes to the ring. 'Wow...'

Harry followed his gaze and gasped; Hermione, twisting her head to see what was going on, did the same. Neville, who was halfway back across the room from his last foray with the beast, caught their expressions and turned sharply.

Draco stood in the centre of the ring, silvery mist issuing from the tip of his wand. It flickered around him. His wand was lowered, and his eyes closed. Harry glanced at the Dementor, drifting slowly closer to him—savouring the moment, probably—and felt the stirring of panic somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

'Draco...'

The odd thing was that he looked perfectly calm; there was even a small smile playing across his face. He raised the wand slightly, and the mist gathered in front of him, strengthening and fighting to take shape.

'Did you even hear him cast the spell?'

'He was muttering the words when he went into the ring,' Hermione said. 'But that...surely he couldn't cast a full Patronus just like...'

'Oh no.' Ron's chin sank onto Hermione's shoulder. He glared at Draco with a perplexed kind of resentment.

'What is it?'

'He's blushing. I know exactly what he's thinking about.'

The Dementor drew closer, but the mist gathered and lashed out, not strong enough to drive it away but enough to make it pause. Harry stared, and realised there was a pink stain to Draco's cheeks.

'The kiss,' he guessed.

'Yes, the damn kiss. You'd think he'd get past it.'

Harry glanced at his friend. 'We're going to have to talk soon, Ron.'

'What about?'

'I'll tell you later.'

The Dementor was getting close again. Draco raised his wand fully and opened his eyes. He whispered the words, and his Patronus took form. Harry blinked.

'A woman?' Ron frowned. 'I thought he couldn't stand them...'

The figure strode forward with majestic grace and calmly slapped the Dementor. It fell to the floor, and scuttled away. The figure turned, and Harry saw a familiar face and an unfamiliar smile before the Patronus vanished.

'It's his mother.'

Draco stepped out of the ring. He didn't glance at the dumbstruck professors around him, but did raise his eyes as Harry came over for his next turn.

'I did it once, too. Years ago.'

The clandestine lesson went on, and Harry found that casting the Patronus grew steadily more easy the more he did it; not that he paid much attention. He was far more concerned with Draco and his strengthening Patronus, and Ron's reaction to it. While Hermione and Neville both continued to struggle, Ron set himself to controlling the Patronus mist he cast. By the time the activity was called to a halt at midnight, he too had accomplished a weak form of defence against the Dementor.

From outside the ring, Professor Figg and Professor McGonagall cast the charms necessary to return the creature to its stone form, as the exhausted students faced Snape. They were each given a cauldron and a set of ingredients.

'Truth serums are among the most complex, powerful and useful potions you will ever brew,' Snape began. 'I suggest you remember how to do this once you have learned it—and pay attention. I don't want to see another spectacle like that—' he glared at Neville, who had chosen an inopportune moment to yawn widely, '—For the rest of the night. What you will be making tonight is a lesser form of Veritaserum.'

'Sir—'

'What is it, Weasley?'

'How is this supposed to help us against Dementors?'

Snape leaned against the teacher's desk, arms folded. 'No doubt you think a truth potion is only good for interrogation and security. In fact it has a range of uses beyond that, not the least of which is its ability to thwart Dementors. I don't suppose any of you knows what it is that a Dementor does to the human mind?'

Even Hermione looked baffled at that. Snape sighed.

'They interrogate you. Moreover, they do it aggressively, sending only one question directly into the root of your brain and answering it for you. That question is: is it worth being alive? By calling forth your worst memories, the Dementor persuades you not. A truth serum will at least level the playing field by allowing you to remember pleasant things as well. Of course,' Snape stole a quick glance at Draco; 'If you have more bad memories than good, you may be better off without it. Never use a truth serum when you are near enemies, and always remember that it does not make you invulnerable to the Dementor's kiss. Are there any more questions?'

'Some of these herbs are quite dangerous,' Hermione said. 'Are you sure we should be using them?'

'We couldn't get the work done without them. They'll do no harm if treated correctly what is it, Longbottom?'

Neville started at the sudden, dangerous drop in Snape's tone, and retracted the hand that had been timidly swaying in the air. 'Y-you said this was going to be complicated...'

'You should be fine if you do exactly what I tell you—something that applies to all potions, and which you have failed to learn even after four and a half years in my class. You might do well to drag yourself out of that dream world of yours for once.'

Neville grew pale, muttering, 'Yes sir.'

'In case something happens, I will be the one testing the potions. I've already taken several antidotes, and I won't touch anything that is so much as a shade the wrong colour. Also, if anyone asks me anything embarrassing while I'm under the influence, I'll have you all cleaning the Potions classroom for a month. Understood? Good. We have little time; let's get on with it.'

Snape's instructions were terse and he kept a watchful eye on the little group, although apparently not watchful enough given that Neville's potion began to darken around the same time everyone else's grew lighter in colour. The other professors watched from a distance, not interfering.

As he shredded root of this and chopped liver of that, Harry found his attention drifting from the Potions Master. His gaze began to fall consistently on Draco, whose head was bent over his work so that most of his face was indiscernible. He worked quickly and precisely, occasionally glancing up at his instructor for approval. Harry became entranced by the fluid movement of Draco's hands as they prepared the potion. His ears grew warm at the thought of what else they might be deft at.

'Potter, if you don't watch what you're doing you'll be wiping the potion off your face.'

'Yes sir.'

Harry turned back to his work, but found himself a few critical steps behind. He glanced at Ron for guidance, but the muttered query ran silent on his lips. Ron worked with an almost savage haste, and kept his eyes continually flicked in Draco's direction, revealing a tumult of emotions. Harry saw anger, resentment, and frustration; there was bewilderment somewhere amid his friend's apparent rage. The turmoil disappeared the instant Ron registered Harry's gaze. He grinned.

'Stuck?'

Harry nodded, grateful that Snape was occupied with a shaking Neville and wouldn't see his mistake. 'I completely forgot what he said to do after we add the newts' tails.'

'Well, first you stir for a bit; then you need to add the shredded bushy stuff Hermione said was dangerous.'

'Right.' Harry began to slosh the potion around, at the same time reaching for a handful of herbs.

'Only you've got to let the potion settle first because otherwise it'll—'

Boom.

'...Do that.' Ron coughed as dusky blue smoke poured from Harry's cauldron.

The smoke, unfortunately, was not thick enough to veil the sight of Snape looming suddenly in front of him.

'Congratulations, Mr Potter. You, for the first time, have managed to beat Longbottom in a contest of sheer idiocy.' The Potions Master sniffed, apparently unaffected by the fumes. 'Go and clean yourself and the cauldron up. Now.'

The end of Snape's speech was marked by a glare at the other professors, as though daring them to undermine him and come to Harry's defence. Harry carried his cauldron from the room before anyone could say a thing. He could do with a moment alone, anyway.

There was a seldom-used boys' bathroom not far from the transfiguration room. Harry pushed the door open and wandered inside.

The place was rarely used because it was rarely cleaned—Filch wouldn't go anywhere Mrs Norris feared to tread, and for some reason the cat refused to enter this bathroom. Hence, the thick cobwebs that graced the walls, the dirty floor, and the doors hanging from broken hinges with all the tenacity of a dead fish.

The taps still worked, though.

Harry washed his smoke-stained face, then set to work on the cauldron. Charred ingredients had stuck to its base, and it was filled with a black, gungy sort of fluid. The liquid disappeared down the sink, and, lacking any kind of rag, Harry began to scrape the rest of the muck off with his fingers.

The work didn't need much thought, so Harry found his mind drifting again, to Ron. He chewed his lip.

What am I to tell you? He recalled the burning anger in Ron's eyes, directed solely at Draco. ...And how can I stop you from hurting him—even more than he already has been?

His thoughts drifted a little further, to something more pleasant.

The whine of the door opening made Harry turn. Neville stepped into the room, sporting a blackened face and steaming cauldron. He shrugged, grimacing.

'I lasted out longer than usual, anyway.'

Harry smiled, gave an absent nod. He was still thinking about other things. Neville stepped up beside him to wash his face, then fixed him with an old-fashioned look.

'Why are you doing it like that?'

'Don't have anything to scrub with.'

'Oh.' Neville took out his wand. 'Wouldn't it be easier to do it this way?'

Harry stared at the wand as though it had sprouted leaves, and laughed. 'I'm an idiot, aren't I?'

'Maybe you just had your mind on other things.'

Harry nodded, reaching for his own wand. 'A bit, yes.'

'Thinking about a girl?'

'No…why?'

Neville shrugged. 'You had that sort of look on your face; that's all. Purgare.'

'It's that easy to tell, is it?' Harry muttered.

'Well, obviously not.' Harry looked bewildered, so Neville added, 'Since you weren't thinking about a girl, I mean.'

'Ah. Yes. Right…' Harry glanced back at the cauldron and raised his wand. 'Purgare.'

'So what were you thinking about?' Neville asked as they picked up their clean cauldrons and moved out of the bathroom again.

'Nothing important.'

'Just something very, very nice,' Neville grinned. 'Are you sure it wasn't Cho?'

'You couldn't be more wrong.'

Neville seemed a little surprised at that. He remained silent as they made their way back down the passage to the Transfiguration classroom.

The others, apparently, had finished. Snape was speaking to them all in a low, even voice. He paused as Neville and Harry entered the classroom, and nodded for them to take their places.

'We've just been talking about the differences between true Veritaserum and this form—I'm not going through that again; the two of you will just have to watch. Incidentally, I expect you both to have made the correct potion be the end of the week; yes, Longbottom, I know you'll need help. Miss Granger can show you what to do. As for you, Potter—you can see Draco.'

'Professor,' Hermione said quickly; 'I'm sure I can—'

'Can do what? Tutor both? I doubt it very much, Granger, as aware of your abilities as I am. You and Mr Longbottom can use the Potions classroom on Wednesday night; Draco and Mr Potter can have it on Sunday night.'

'But, sir…' Draco said, the urgency of his tone catching Harry's attention more than the actual protest.

'Yes?'

'I can't—'

'You will.' Snape retrieved a small bottle of potion and an equally small cup from a pocket in his robes. 'This is an antidote to the potion, so that we don't have to wait hours tonight for each dose to wear off. Once I've made sure all of these actually work, you're all to take a bottle from the desk here, fill it, and keep it. The potion will still work a year from now.'

Snape dipped the cup into Draco's potion first. There was a moment of expectant silence after he swallowed it.

'Well,' he snapped. 'Are you going to ask me something or not? That's the only way to be sure it works.'

Harry was surprised that Snape was still capable of normal speech under the potion—that would never happen with Veritaserum. Draco didn't bat an eyelid, however.

'What does the Order of the Phoenix have to do with the Headmaster's bird?'

'The Order of the Phoenix was formed in secrecy against the leagues of Lord Voldemort at the height of his power. Complete trust between its members was needed to ensure the security of the Order, and a phoenix can draw the line between good and evil with far greater accuracy than any Sneak-o-scope. Fawkes stayed by any new member of the Order and would alert the rest if he sensed any hint of untrustworthiness. He no longer serves that purpose as all the members have now proven, one way or the other, their commitment to the Order.' Snape paused. 'Well done, Draco. A pertinent question, and your potion works.'

Snape took a swig of the antidote, and then a cupful of Hermione's potion.

'Have you ever been inside Azkaban?'

'Yes. When I turned myself in as a Death Eater, the Ministry insisted on placing me in confinement there until I had proven the truth of my loyalty.'

Snape nodded, sipped at the antidote, and moved on to Ron's cauldron. Ron shifted uncomfortably.

'I don't know what to ask.' Harry, seeing his eyes slide towards McGonagall, stifled a chuckle. He knew what Ron wanted to ask.

'You'd better think of something quickly, then, Weasley. I'm not waiting all night.'

Ron looked at Harry, helpless. Harry shrugged and turned to the Potions Master, thinking fast.

'Why do you hate me?'

Snape stared at him. 'I don't hate you, Potter. I did when you first arrived at Hogwarts, because you seemed so much like your father. You know how that goes. My hatred has ebbed since then. You infuriate me. You have a good mind, but fail so often to use it. You are brave enough to stand up to Lord Voldemort, but let smaller things stand in your way every day. And you are the hero of a generation for doing something you don't even understand nor wholly remember, when others like me have spent years working against the Death Eaters with no recognition at all.'

'Good question,' Ron muttered as Snape emptied the bottle of its antidote. Harry realised he was gaping, and closed his mouth.

Better answer, he thought.

'Well done, those of you who managed to complete the work.' Snape's voice was subdued. 'The potions work extremely well. Fill a bottle each as I said, and we can all go.'

By the time each of them had taken their share of truth serum, most of the potion was gone. Snape used a spell to evaporate the rest and carried the cauldrons away without a word.

As the rest of the group trickled out into the corridor, Remus approached Harry and Neville.

'Don't be too worried about the potion. The first time I tried it, the floorboards had to be replaced.'

The teachers disappeared one by one down the passages to their own rooms for the night, until only the children were left, with Snape ploughing ahead on route to the dungeons.

'Why did you ask Snape that question, Harry?' Ron said.

Harry shrugged. 'It was the first thing that came into my head.'

'Well, you certainly ruffled him.'

'I know. I need to ask him something else now. See you at the tower.' Harry pelted up the corridor without waiting for a reply. 'Pro—'

'Yes, Potter?'

Harry slowed to a walk beside the Potions Master. 'How did you know it was me?'

'No one else in that group would be foolish enough to come after me when I'm in such a foul mood and trying to carry five cauldrons at once. Since you were, however...' He held out two of the cauldrons, which Harry took. 'What did you want?'

'Why can't Hermione show me how to make the potion?'

Snape stopped abruptly, and glared at him. 'What is so terribly wrong with Draco?'

'Nothing,' Harry said, taken aback. 'I mean...it's just...'

'Just what?' They began walking again, and descended a flight of stairs. Snape sneered. 'Afraid of the truth, Potter?'

'Not any more, no,' Harry snapped.

'Then there's no problem, is there?'

'Yes, there is! Draco doesn't want to do it, and you know that.' They descended another flight.

'Of course I know. I also know why he doesn't want to do it, but you don't. Do you?' Harry gave a bewildered shake of his head. Snape adjusted the weight of the cauldrons in his hands, sighing. 'Since he kissed you—' He gave an exasperated hiss as Harry looked at the floor, trying not to blush so much. 'Stop being so damned coy about it, Potter. Has Draco made any move on you since then?'

'No...'

'Exactly. In fact, he's been avoiding you. I don't suppose you could hazard a guess as to why?'

Harry bit his lip, trying to think clearly. 'Not really.'

Snape's pace quickened until Harry had to run to keep up, cauldrons clanking together. They reached the potions classroom, and Snape dumped the cauldrons into an open cupboard. Harry followed his example.

'He's afraid.'

Harry spun around. 'Sorry?'

'Draco. He's afraid of being near you. He's terrified that he'll lose control again, and do something more to isolate himself. So he avoids you.'

'That makes no sense.'

'It does to him. I know he's stronger than that, but he needs to work it out for himself. That's why I'm throwing you together.'

'I see.' Harry wandered toward the door as Snape turned away.

'There is a Death Eater meeting on the same night. Draco will probably arrive already...costumed.'

'Is there any other night we can—?'

'No.'

He nodded and left, making his way through the darkened corridors by the light of his wand, floating in a miasma of emotions. When he reached the Gryffindor common room, the place was dark and silent, so he went straight upstairs to the boys' dormitory.

Harry cupped one hand around his wand as he stepped into the dormitory, listening carefully in case he'd woken anyone coming in. The only sounds were soft, peaceful snores.

He'd hoped that Ron and Hermione would wait in the common room, giving him a chance to corner Ron about Draco. Apparently, though, the lesson had overcome them. He would have to try tomorrow.

Harry opened his trunk to look for his pyjamas. As he fumbled about in the shadowy corners, he grasped the edge of a familiar book. With a soft smile, Harry drew it out, and stared at the red-leather cover.

Dobby had presented him with this book on Christmas Day, along with a pair of perfectly mismatched socks, but he'd grown shifty as soon as Harry asked where he'd found it. It was only later that Harry had found the tiny initials; 'D. M.' marked in a corner of the inside cover. Draco had probably forgotten they were even there.

He flipped through the book, pausing now and again to trace the lettering of a charm. He turned to the last page.

This, here, was what had first made him wonder about the grimoire's origins. It was a longer incantation than the rest, with a few lines of English printed before the spell itself:

'A bond unseen cast between

Two souls who never may part;

A spoken word softly heard:

A hand around the heart.'

It was a love spell. It sounded like an emotional form of Imperius.

Draco had given it to him.

'...He's terrified that he'll lose control again, and do something more...'

But he hadn't, had he? Draco had given the book to him...in case. Just in case.

Harry closed the book and placed it back inside the trunk. After a little more rummaging he located his pyjamas and went into the bathroom to change. Then, he dulled the light of his wand and tumbled into bed, happy to relinquish his thoughts to slumber.

~~~*~~~

Harry was still drifting somewhere near the borders of Dreamland when he heard from across the room a grunt, a groan and Ron cursing in a voice thick with fatigue. It began to occur to him that he might have to wake up soon, and he mumbled something in vague protest, trying to settle into another dream.

A sharp prod in the ribs caused him to yell; he flailed out automatically and one hand connected with someone else's face. Grumbling, he sat up.

'That was unwarranted,' Seamus muttered.

'Was bloody not,' Ron retorted, wiping his face. Dean was by his bed, holding a wet towel in one hand and grinning. 'What do you two think you're doing, waking us up like that? It must be—'

'Eight in the morning. You have nearly no time before lessons start; we let you sleep in so long. What did you two get up to last night—and Neville? None of you were back before curfew, and then he was rattling about again at dawn like nothing happened.'

Harry and Ron looked at each other. They hadn't quite worked this part out yet.

'Er...'

'Hermione, ah, dragged us off to study in the Library.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed eagerly. 'For the O.W.L.s. You know.'

Dean frowned. 'The library wouldn't be open so late. And the tests aren't until next term anyway.'

'Would that stop Hermione?'

'Good point.'

'Anyhow...' Seamus cast Ron a devious look. 'She hardly has to drag you anywhere, does she?'

Ron reddened, muttered something only half-heard, and fled to the bathroom. Smirking a bit, Seamus and Dean traipsed downstairs.

In the rush to get to classes in time, all thought of talking to Ron was shoved into a corner of Harry's mind. The morning raced by, packed with Transfiguration notes and falsehoods concocted in Trelawney's tower. It wasn't until Harry saw Draco ducking into the Great Hall near the end of lunch that his memory moved into gear.

'Ron...' he said, and then paused to nudge his friend, who was giving Neville an animated speech on the merits of the Chudley Cannons while sacrificing his shoulder as a pillow for Hermione's drowsy head.

'They're really good players when you think about it; it's just they always run into a bit of bad luck—'Ron paused, looking at him quizzically.

'About that talk...'

'Which...? Oh. 'Scuse me, Neville.' Ron shifted to face Harry more fully, causing Hermione to stir for a second before lowering her head again. 'What about it?'

'It's—well, it's private.'

'Okay, we'll go find somewhere deserted then, eh, 'Mione?' Hermione mumbled something into his shoulder. Ron smiled, putting an arm around her. 'You'd better not make a habit of late-night studying, if it knocks you out this much.'

'Not Hermione,' Harry said quickly. 'I just need to talk to you for a bit.'

'Oh.' Bewilderment began to rise in Ron's eyes. 'Look, what's this all about, Harry? You look wound up as a watch.'

'It's sort of about Malfoy.'

'Sort of?'

Harry sighed. 'All right, it's mostly about Malfoy.'

Ron's face darkened. His arm tightened a little around Hermione. 'Harry, I really don't want to—'

'Please? It's important.'

'What can be so terribly important about—'

'Ron.' The warning note in Hermione's voice as she raised her head pulled him up short. 'Try listening before coming to conclusions, hmm?'

Ron withdrew his arm and clenched his fists on the table. 'I just don't want to hear any more about that git than I already have this year. I've got to deal with him in Care of Magical Creatures next, you know.'

'No...' Hermione glanced around at the various students and teachers who were beginning to journey en masse toward the huge doors at the front of the Hall and got to her feet, rubbing at one sleep-filled eye. 'You have to deal with him now. You'll both have to wait until later. Come on.'

The four of them—in spite of Ron's disgruntlement over Ginny, Neville was spending more time around the tight-knit group than ever before—marched out into the grounds to meet Hagrid with the rest of the class.

Ron had picked up the habit, lately, of staying as near to Harry and Hermione during Care of Magical Creatures as possible, until Hagrid announced it was time for the class to split into their pairings. Then he would dawdle over to the tree where Draco would already be, trying to coax the imps from the branches long enough to perform whatever ministrations happened to be required for the lesson. Ron always made a point of getting his imp to perch on his shoulder, while Draco struggled to catch his own.

This time, when the class was split up, he ambled straight over to the tree. With a dark look at Draco, he leaned forward, parted the branches, and plucked both imps from the bough they were on. He dumped the black one into Draco's hands.

Harry, who was watching from the corner of his eye as he and Hermione struggled with their own charges, saw the uncertain gratitude in Draco's expression—which grew shuttered when Ron spoke a few words. He sighed.

'I don't think it will work, you know.'

'Hm? What won't?'

Hermione was darting about their tree, trying to catch a glimpse of her imp. 'Talking to him. You're going to try to stop him fighting with Malfoy, aren't you?'

'That's...part of it, yes.'

She threw him an odd look. 'All right...'

'Like I said,' he crouched down to look for his speckled-grey imp; 'It's private.'

'I still don't think it will work. I've tried before.'

'Have you?'

'Yes. I had a talk with Ron about it a while ago and he did say he'd try, but that's fallen apart on him, apparently.'

'Damn.' Harry saw a rustle of movement amongst the thickest leaves. His hand shot out, catching both imps. They'd been huddled together on a branch. He handed Hermione's over. 'Why can't they just let be?'

'Having to work together in these lessons can't be helping.'

'Some people might think they'd make an effort because of it.'

She sighed. 'Why should they? I think there's something you're missing, Harry. Ron and Malfoy are natural enemies. They always have been, and before it didn't matter. It's just that Ron's the antagonist now—that's what bothers you, isn't it?'

'I suppose so.'

'I hope you were going to talk to Draco as well.'

Harry's ears went red. 'Yeah. I was going to have a word with him soon; I just wanted to speak with Ron first. Um, what are we supposed to be doing here? I didn't hear a word Hagrid said.'

'We're looking for eggs on the leaves.'

'Oh.'

Harry spent the rest of the lesson with his attention divided unevenly between the search for imp eggs—which was more difficult than it seemed since they were camouflaged to suit the colours of the leaves—and watching Ron and Draco. Stony silence had fallen on the pair, and they barely looked at one another. Harry wasn't sure whether that was an improvement on their arguing or not.

The final lesson of the day was Magical Healing. The relief that Harry felt at having Ron and Draco separated again was short-lived, however.

Professor Fletcher had begun teaching them about curse antidotes a day or two ago. He chose this lesson to give them their first trial against basic hexes, and paired the class off—Harry was sent to work with Seamus, and with a feeling of dread, he saw Draco take a seat beside Ron. Both were glowering.

'They'll have a ball this lesson,' Seamus sniggered, following Harry's worried gaze. 'An unrivalled opportunity to maim each other without getting into trouble—pity they'll have to heal each other too.'

'Mm.'

'Let's see, what's first...' Seamus glanced up at the list of spells Fletcher had written on the blackboard, and winced. 'Harry, this is going to sting. I'm really sorry.'

Gradually, they managed to work halfway down the list. Professor Fletcher had a habit of getting excited and prescribing more work than was actually possible for most of the class to accomplish.

It was a wonder Harry and Seamus didn't encounter any major mishaps, given the amount of attention Harry paid to what was going on. At one point, Seamus was forced to tell Harry three times in the space of five minutes which antidote they were supposed to be working on—and the boils on Harry's face grew all the while, unnoticed. By him, anyway.

Finally, the lesson ended and the class began to file out. Harry spotted Draco, head bent low, at the head of the column of students, and Ron not far behind, glowering. Harry tried to push closer to the door, but he was only shoved back by a couple of Slytherins. Hermione and Neville were somewhere behind him.

A second later there was an unearthly roar ahead of them. There were a few screams, and the knot of children at the door suddenly scattered. Harry hurried toward the doorway, elbowed his way past the few remaining students there, and suddenly halted.

'Good grief.' Professor Fletcher's voice sounded softly near Harry's ear. It was a good phrase to use.

Both Ron and Draco had hit the floor, and were fighting savagely upon it. The air grew swollen with cries and grunts of pain, fleshy thuds, and fervent swearing. It was impossible to see who had started it. Blood was smeared on both pairs of fists and both faces.

'All right,' Fletcher quavered. 'Stand aside, everyone—stand back! Right. Now, this should do it...' He raised his wand and shook back the sleeves of his robes in preparation, drew a deep breath and— 'Dean Thomas! Get back! I said get out of there at once—damn!'

Dean had plunged into the melee and was squirming around the pair. He grasped Draco's wrist, but was immediately thrown off as the connecting fist ripped into Ron. Seamus stepped in on the other side.

'Fine,' Fletcher muttered. 'If it's going to be this way...'

Harry heard a hiss by his other ear. 'I don't know which of them I want to kill more,' Hermione growled. She moved forward and joined Seamus in trying to capture Ron.

Harry shook himself. He stepped around to grab at the less mobile bits of Draco.

'This is hopeless,' Dean grunted beside him. 'We're never going to prise them apart. Help!' A whirling arm caught Dean on the side of the face, sending him sprawling on the floor for a moment. He launched himself at Draco, catching the boy around the midsection. 'Get—back—you—bastard! What's Fletcher doing?'

Harry glanced over. 'He's casting a spell, I think. It's not getting them apart, though.'

'He'd better hurry up.'

Eventually Neville and an anonymous Slytherin joined in separating Ron and Draco. Even with three people on each side, the two could barely be kept apart.

'Thank goodness,' Dean panted. 'I thought they were trying to kill each other.'

Harry nodded, raising his head to see the huddle keeping Ron from plunging forward again. He froze. There was a figure rapidly moving down the hall from the direction of the dungeons. From the look on Hermione's face, trouble was coming the other way as well.

'Ah, here we go,' Professor Fletcher said, tucking his wand away.

'MR MALFOY!'

'MR WEASLEY!'

Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall came into view, moving from opposite directions. Each hauled one bloodied student to his feet.

'FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!'

'FIFTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!'

'DETENTION—'

'—FOR A WEEK!'

The professors paused, glared at one another, and dragged their respective charges away, leaving the scattered crowd staring after them.

'What was that about?' Seamus breathed.

'What,' Dean said. 'Do you mean the fight, or the break-up?'

'I don't think you want to know the answer to either,' Harry said, staring after Draco. The silver-blond head turned to glare behind him at Ron's disappearing back. Angry tears had left sparkling tracks down his face.

Harry's heart sank. He knew who'd started the fight.

~~~*~~~

Ron and Draco were both kept in the Hospital Wing overnight. In the morning, Harry followed guiltily behind Hermione when she went to visit Ron. He hovered in the doorway as she went to Ron's bed. He knew he ought to go to Ron, but wanted instead to comfort Draco, who was in the next bed.

Hermione folded her arms. 'Should I fuss all over you, or lecture you about being such an idiot?'

'Neither,' Ron mumbled. 'Pomfrey did both all night. I'm exhausted.'

She leaned forward. 'It was a stupid thing to do, Ron.'

'Tell him that! He threw the first punch.'

Draco sat up. 'You were waiting for it! And you deserved it. Don't you dare ever say that about my mother again!'

'That's enough.' Hermione pushed Ron back into the mattress and moved a hand to do the same for Draco, but he flinched away. Ron's mouth twisted a little. Harry had the sudden, awful urge to hit him.

Hermione, who hadn't noticed, bent down to help Ron up. She paused to give him a kiss. Draco watched them for a moment, then caught Harry's eye. They both looked away, flushing. Draco rolled over.

'See you, Malfoy.' Ron sat up, with a little aid from Hermione, and slipped out of bed.

Cold silence; then: 'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'For...not saying what it was really about.'

Ron was only confused for a second. 'Don't expect it to happen again.'

At Draco's bitter laugh, Harry turned and walked out of the room. He counted his steps carefully, to keep his mind from anything else. Once outside the Hospital Wing, he ran.

Harry avoided Ron for the rest of the day. He stayed as far away as possible and when he couldn't avoid being nearby, he refused to speak.

A day extended into the rest of the week. Harry tried to ignore the hurt looks Ron gave him, and the perplexed ones he was gaining from the rest of Gryffindor. Every time Hermione tried to ask him what was wrong, he'd change the subject or walk away.

It was terrible. He wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer.

Harry was sitting in the common room apparently embroiled in a Charms textbook (a small, red-leather volume was tucked between the pages), when Ron approached him directly.

'Harry?'

'Hmm.'

'What's up?'

'Nothing.'

'Don't give me that.' Ron snatched the textbook away. Harry grabbed for Draco's grimoire and slipped it into his pocket, glaring at his friend. 'What's wrong?'

'It doesn't matter.'

Ron heaved an exasperated sigh. 'Fine. Do you still want to have that talk you were so keen on before? Or doesn't that matter, as well?' Harry said nothing. Ron took him by the wrist. 'Come on. No one's in the dorms right now.'

Harry allowed himself to be led upstairs with a feeling of dread. He followed Ron into the dormitory and closed the door. His hand rested on the knob for a moment. What if someone burst in? What if he just ran out of here and forgot all about it?

'Come on, Harry.' Ron sat on his bed. Harry sat opposite, and covered his mouth with his hands. He felt sick. Ron looked alarmed. 'Are you all right?'

'It's about Draco,' he managed.

'I know. You told me before, remember?'

Harry closed his eyes. 'Why do you hate him so much?'

'You did once, too.'

'I know. But this year—'

'It's no different.'

Harry's eyes snapped open at Ron's rough tone. 'Yes, it is!'

'It isn't! I don't know how you put up with him—you were the one he took advantage of, and he still won't stop—'

'Ron—'

'Every time we're in Care of Magical Creatures, I catch him watching you with that look in his eyes. He's probably going to try again, the little—'

'So that's it,' Harry said quietly. Ron stopped. 'You hate him because he's gay.'

'No!' Ron looked at his hands. 'I mean—not exactly. Really. He probably thinks I do, but...no. I don't like it, but...'

'Then what is it? Just that he's Malfoy?'

'No, it's...it's...'

'He's not as bad this year. Don't tell me he is. He's changed too much for you not to have noticed.'

Ron nodded. 'I know. Still...'

'What is it you hate most about him, then--that he's a Malfoy, or that he's gay? I don't see what other problem you can have.'

Ron raked his fingers through his hair. 'Why does it have to be you?'

'Sorry?'

'Why does it have to be you? If it he'd just let be, if he went after someone else—I couldn't care less. But it's you he wants, and he won't stop. How dare he—he had no right to push his perverse desires on you like that, and he's still—he still wants—!'

'Yes,' Harry snapped. 'How dare he try to find some pleasure in a world that's just fallen around his ears? Preposterous!'

Ron looked him square in the eye. 'I think you should keep away from him, Harry. I really think he's going to try again.'

Harry drew a breath, wondering when the famous Gryffindor courage had deserted him. He looked at the floor to avoid seeing Ron's reaction. 'What if I want him to?'

A rush of air expelled itself from Ron's lungs. Harry looked up, timidly. His friend had fallen back on the bed and covered his face with his hands.

'Bloody hell.'

'Is that all you're going to say?'

'What about Cho?'

Harry's fingers curled in the blanket. 'I don't think she's really interested—and nor am I, any more.'

'He got to you.'

'No. I got to him. That's how all this started.'

'I'm not even going to ask why.' Ron sat up, eyeing Harry warily. 'So why did you come to me first? If you want him, why haven't you done anything?'

'I want Draco.' He coloured a little. 'I want him a lot, actually. But I'm not going to do anything if it means losing my best friend. Can you put up with him? Please?'

Ron stood up, looking as though he was unsure of how to walk properly. He took a few steps toward the door and turned back to Harry, face troubled. 'I don't know. I need to think.'

He turned away again, and the door clicked behind him. Harry curled up on the bed, worrying his lower lip. At least he isn't actually angry, yet.

It was the 'yet' that bothered him.

~~~*~~~

Sunday night came, and Ron still didn't know. Harry had a feeling that he wanted to see whether Draco—or himself, he allowed—did take the opportunity that had been given them that night.

Harry lay in bed awake and still in his robes, listening to the rest of the dormitory slowly fall asleep. When he counted three sets of snores and silence from Seamus, he got up, took his wand, and slipped quietly down to the common room and past the Fat Lady's portrait.

He hurried through passageways and down the flights of stairs towards the dungeons, simmering with vague anticipation. He hadn't been alone with Draco since the midnight duel, and half-hoped something similar would happen. If Draco made a move, he fully intended to follow. There would be no need to let Ron know.

After having to take a detour when the last set of stairs decided to change its position, Harry drew up to the door of the Potions classroom. He turned the handle and stepped inside.

Draco was already there. He'd taken a cauldron out and begun to look for the ingredients they needed—bundles of herbs and tiny jars of slippery, slimy oddities were already set on a desk beside the cauldron. On another, a Death Eater mask had been left, facedown. He didn't hear Harry enter the room.

'Am I late?'

Draco sprang around like a startled animal, only slightly relaxing when he saw that the intruder was Harry. 'No. I came early.'

'Oh.' Harry stepped forward, suddenly awkward. 'Draco, um...'

'Don't worry. I've already got most of what's needed. There's just one thing that seems to have disappeared since Snape showed me...' He turned back and began searching the shelves again. 'Ah, here.' He took a squat jar down and put it on the desk with the other ingredients. 'All right. Show me how you prepare everything.'

Harry began to chop and shred as he had before, acutely aware of Draco's gaze on him. He paused when he got to the dragon's liver. 'Draco...I'm sorry about what happened. With Ron.'

'You should be slicing it this way—' Draco showed him how; '—so that it dissolves better in the juices once the serum begins to boil. You're not responsible for what your friend does. I shouldn't have started the fight.'

Harry plopped the chopped liver into the cauldron. 'He was goading you.'

'I shouldn't have risen to it. Now, pour those juices into the cauldron...good...'

'I should have done something to stop him,' Harry muttered. 'I knew he was angry at you.'

'It wasn't your fault.'

Harry's eyes flashed. 'It wasn't yours either!' He dropped his gaze under Draco's shocked expression. 'Sorry.'

'I take it you haven't forgiven him yet.'

'Well, sort of. It still shouldn't have happened.'

'I can think of other things that should never have happened, but did anyway,' Draco muttered. 'All right, now add everything that looks like a plant—except those—and now we can start heating.' He flicked his wand at the cauldron's base to start a fire around it. 'Just stir until it looks less of a swamp and more like a stew.'

'What's the difference?'

'There'll be more fluid, and it will start to boil.' Draco nodded. 'That's a good motion. You have just the right hands for this.'

Harry looked down into the concoction to hide his blush. 'Thank you.'

The potion began to simmer and Draco moved around near the desk. 'We'd better start getting the newts' tails ready—no, don't just drop them in. They need to be squeezed a little first, to mush up the insides. Otherwise there will be lumps, and this needs to be as smooth as possible. Not like that...here.' He took the tail Harry had been holding and held it lengthwise in his palm, locking his fingers around it and pumping. He opened his hand again to show the squashed result. Some of the muscle inside the tail had leaked out, showing just how well it had been mashed. Harry wrinkled his nose. Draco smiled, cautiously. 'It's a little messy, but it makes a better potion in the end.' He dropped the tail into the mixture, which was now boiling. 'Now you try it.'

Harry picked up the next newt's tail and mimicked the motion of Draco's hand, watching for approval. Draco nodded, satisfied.

'Keep doing that. I'll get the bottles ready.' He glanced at the bubbling fluid in the pot, frowning a little. 'We'll need more than before—I think I over-calculated with the ingredients.' He scanned the remaining morsels on the desk. 'That's all right, though; the proportions are right.'

He swivelled and went to the shelf that housed the many bottles they used in class, running a thin hand through the air above the various necks as he debated which to use. Harry watched him as he pumped the tails.

'Let's see...maybe three more small bottles, and a larger one to take the excess...'

Harry threw the tails into the cauldron. Perhaps—If I just said—

Splash.

'Aargh!'

Harry reeled away from the potion, clutching at his right wrist, although there was a searing patch of skin he daren't cover up. He hissed, his eyes blurring with shocked tears.

Two pale hands took his, and a soft voice in his ear said, 'Let me see.'

Harry blinked back the moisture in his eyes as Draco surveyed the burn. His fingers stroked absent-minded trails around the reddening mark.

'I have something for this.' His gaze shifted to Harry's face, his eyes questioning. 'It will hurt—it'll probably hurt more than the burn—but it will heal it quickly.'

Harry nodded. Draco reached into his pocket and took out a small bottle, which he uncapped with a sharp twist of his thumb. One hand never left Harry's arm. He tilted the bottle, and a few drops splattered onto the burn.

Harry gasped and clutched at Draco's arm for support. He was vaguely aware of whispered comfort filling his ears, and as the pain began to recede, he became slowly aware of Draco's fingers brushing gently over the now-unmarked skin. The caress seemed to take the pain away as much as the potion had. Harry loosened his hold on Draco's forearm, watching the slow movement of the fingers, mesmerised be the feel of Draco's skin pressing ever so lightly on his.

He was left suddenly bereft of the touch, and looked upward in protest. Draco wouldn't meet his eyes.

'You should keep an eye on the potion,' he said. 'Be careful how you put everything in. Are you finished with the newts' tails? Good. Stir the potion for a few minutes, then let it settle. Put the last herbs in after that, and put the fire out.'

Harry nodded. Draco went back to collecting bottles.

The steady rhythm of circling the stirring rod, compounded with the rising heat from the potion, began to make Harry feel drowsy. He glanced around at Draco. 'Where did you get that potion?'

'I found it.' Draco turned from the shelves, carrying the four selected bottles over. 'I thought it might be useful tonight.'

Harry felt a stab of disappointment. 'You knew I was going to make a mistake?'

'No!' Draco looked mortified. 'No, I meant—for afterward...'

Harry's mind caught up. 'For the Death Eater gathering?' His eyes grew wide. 'Are they really that bad?'

'They've grown worse since the beginning,' Draco muttered. He glanced at the potion. Harry had unconsciously stopped stirring. 'You can probably put those in now.'

He nodded at the shredded bushels on the desk. Harry dropped them in and extinguished the flames around the cauldron's base with a word.

'So—so they're violent, are they?'

Draco pursed his lips, unaware of Harry's stricken expression. 'Not so much the first one. But something happened last time—I just thought I might need it, if he did anything like that again.'

'What did he do to you?' Harry whispered. 'Was it Cruciatus?'

'Do you know how to frost the cauldron? It has to cool down before you can add those eyeballs.'

'Draco...'

He faced Harry bluntly. 'We didn't come here to discuss the awful things Voldemort is capable of. It's getting toward midnight, and I need to be ready for the gathering tonight.'

Harry stabbed his wand at the pot. 'Glasciare.'

Ice crystals cracked upward from the base, wrapping around the cauldron. They steamed against its heat, but didn't completely melt.

'Good. That's where Longbottom had to stop—he had trouble at first with casting the spell and then grew too much ice. Some fell in and reacted with the serum. Now, you need about half that jar of eyeballs. Make sure you get as much of the juices in as possible, and swirl it around a bit so they get spread right through. If one or two happen to pop, all the better.'

Harry shuddered. 'I can't believe people drink this.'

'Apparently the usual dangerous side effects of each ingredient are nullified by the reaction with other ingredients. The same with the foul taste.'

'What if I've done it wrong?'

'Snape set up some antidotes in his office in case, but I don't think you have. It looks right to me.'

Harry nodded, and tried to concentrate on stirring without thinking about what might be breaking apart against the rod somewhere down there. Draco watched him closely.

'Snape tells me it was an amplified form of Cruciatus,' he said after a moment of silence. He had to dart forward to catch the stirring rod as Harry lost his grip on it.

'My God...amplified?'

'It wasn't meant for me,' Draco said, stirring vigorously. 'The spell was targeted at Snape; I was just stupid enough to get in the way. Voldemort was furious that no one had told him of Dumbledore's counter-attack plan for the London Underground.'

'How do you know he wasn't going to do it to you as well?'

'I think he was—Cruciatus, anyway—and I could have put up with that, but the stronger spell was meant only for Snape. I'm sure of that.'

'I never knew you had to face things like that,' Harry murmured.

'Nor did I until it happened.'

'And—and this meeting? Why so soon afterward?'

Draco sighed, and stopped swirling the serum around. 'He's getting frustrated over Azkaban. I think that after tonight, a few students may no longer be in school. He hinted at dragging someone out there, to end it.'

'I see.'

Draco looked up. 'Don't worry. The teachers will be out in force tonight, you'll see. Very few should be able to get through.'

'Oh,' Harry said weakly. 'Good.'

Draco watched him for a second, then said haltingly, 'How is Black?'

'He's—he's all right.'

'Safe?'

'Yes. Why?'

'I...just wondered.'

'He's not my only family, you know.'

'He's the only family you care to be near. Where is he?'

Harry shrugged. 'I think Dumbledore's hiding him somewhere in the castle, to be honest. That or his letters come back to me by express owl.'

Draco sucked in his breath. 'He's taking a lot of risks.'

'It's nothing new. If he wasn't here, he'd have to go back on the run—he might be anywhere, when he's really needed nearby.'

Draco nodded. 'We'd better finish this.'

'There's more?'

'The spell: veritas revelo. You need to dip the tip of your wand into the serum for it to work properly.'

Harry did so. 'Ver-it-as revel--'

'You need to watch your pronunciation. This is the most important part of the whole potion. Listen: veritas revelo.'

Harry closed his eyes and tried again, concentrating on the way Draco had spoken. It wasn't difficult. 'Veritas revelo.'

'Perfect.'

Harry's eyes snapped open at the feel of Draco's breath ghosting over his ear. Perhaps Draco noticed. At any rate, he shifted away to take one of the smaller bottles. Harry looked down at the serum. It was completely clear.

'You wouldn't know it from water, would you?'

'I know. Perfect for interrogation.'

'Don't we need to test it?' he asked, as Draco dipped the bottle into the serum.

'No time. You should probably go. Professor Snape will be here soon. I'll finish bottling it for you.'

Harry wasn't sure whether to thank Draco for his help or resent the fact that he was being pushed away. He made his way to the door in silence.

'Harry?'

He stopped. 'Yes?'

Draco was sideways to him, head lowered over the bottles so that his face was shadowed and thereby inscrutable. 'I'm sorry. For what happened at the beginning of the year.'

'Draco...'

'It was stupid. I shouldn't have done that to you.'

'Don't say that. Don't blame yourself for letting go for once. I know why you did it and... I don't mind. Really.'

There was no answer.

'Good night, Draco.'

'Good night,' was the whispered reply.

Harry wandered aimlessly back to Gryffindor tower, wishing bitterly that he'd had the courage or the recklessness to do—something—to show Draco just how much he didn't mind. Draco had been right: Harry counted six teachers patrolling the corridors on his way, each of whom gave him a nod or a wave. Obviously everyone knew he was supposed to be out tonight.

But as much as he squinted into the shadows or moved silently around the corners, he never once saw a student stealthily making his way towards the castle entrance. Not one.

Perhaps he should wake Ron; see Dumbledore.

Make sure Draco didn't get hurt again.