A/N: I'm sorry this chapter isn't very long, but I did post it rather quickly, liked I promised didn't I? Well if it is too short, you can leave a vote (when you review) saying if you want short chapters in short times, or long chapter in long times. Anyways, hope you like it! Oh and thank you for all the reviews J

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Harry shivered slightly. It was so cold, as if the extinguishing of the flames sucked all of the small warmth that the room contained. Harry glanced slowly around the darkness slowly, unable to see anything, not even his own feet.

He heard a faint whisper from his right, and swung his arm out, but felt no one. Again happened to his left, from, and back. He was moving around franticly, trying to escape and at the same time discover the incomprehensible whispering.

He heard a moan, and yet another whisper. Yet this time, it seemed to sound different. This time he knew the noise belonged to something human, if you will.

"Malfoy?" He said, the voice a mixture of dispirit pleading, and harshness. But nothing other than the shuffle of sheets was his reply.

Harry inhaled sharply, his lungs suddenly feeling compressed, the air around him to thin and cold to allow him to breath properly. He gasped slightly, and clawed at the invisible ice cold hands that threatened to cut off his breathing supply.

His uselessly short nails attempted to dig into the freezing hands, as his other tried to follow the arm up to whomever, or whatever, was keeping him a hold. But every time he only barley reached the body, until his arm would automatically drop to his sides. It was frustrating, he couldn't even control his own actions, it seemed.

Harry kicked out, lashed out, but nothing happened. The hands, although he was starting to doubt that that was what they were, continued to hold onto his tanned neck, tears streaming down his face from the pain of his throat being crushed. His eyes bulged out slightly, almost comical, from the lack of oxygen in his body. He wheezed.

As sudden as it was, the hands evaporated, and the room was left warm and sticky once more. The fire suddenly sprang to life, its orange flames licked and danced over the magic wood. Harry collapsed on the floor, his cloak cast aside from the invisible attacker. He inhaled and wheezed, in desperate attempt to fill his deprived lungs with air.

But it was gone, he could tell. The moment the coldness lifted, he couldn't detect anything abnormal in the room. Which was wired, he had to admit, but there was still the feeling.

Harry finally looked up from the place on the ground. His eyes traveled from the roaring fire, to Malfoys bed. He squinted his eyes slightly. Something was off, out of place, but he couldn't make out what.

Harry reluctantly lifted himself from his place on the ground, and took the few steps that distanced him from the bed. He looked down at the sleeping Malfoy. Everything seemed almost normal. His face was blank with sleep, his chest rising ever so slightly by his steady breathing, but once drop down, and it was no longer normal.

Harry noticed a wet stain on the white cotton sheets, and the slight twitch of where Malfoys thighs would have been. Harry's naïve eyes widened, when he noticed the smell, and look of what had happened. His eyes snapped back to Malfoys face, which he finally noticed, was not blank, but a slight look of ecstasy was etched across, as his eyes lids fluttered ever so softly.

"Goodbye Artram Umbra…" was the last words Harry heard before he rushed out of the small room, completely and utterly confused. Tomorrow he was definitely going to talk to Dumbladore, and no matter what, he was going to get the answers to his unasked questions.

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