Chapter 7

Draco made his way to the seventh floor, looking around self-consciously. He did not want to bump into any of his housemates at the time. Even Crabbe and Goyle weren't stupid enough to not find any connection whatsoever with his nighttime stroll and Hermione Granger's unknown request. They might even let their imaginations run wild. Oh dear. Whatever might pop into their thick skulls would probably be really far from the truth and the end of his reputation. He reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Across it was a door much like the doors down in the dungeons. Intrigued, Draco opened the door.

He found himself in a room very much like Snape's dungeon. There was a large glass cupboard at one side of the room, full of Potions ingredients that surpassed the number of those in the students' store cupboard. On the opposite side was a bookcase full of Potions-related material. He was mildly surprised to see a new copy of Moste Potente Potions on the shelf. He had only ever seen that book in his father's study. It was probably in the Restricted Section, so what was a copy of it doing here? In the middle of the room was a table. Harry had set his cauldron on it and was standing patiently behind it, watching Draco take in the room. Draco shot him a questioning glance.

"Neat, isn't it?" Harry said.

"How did you—" Draco sputtered.

"This, Malfoy, is the Room of Requirement. It will transform into any kind of room you need. All you have to do is to walk past the wall outside three times, concentrating hard on what you need." He smiled smugly.

"This room is incredible," Malfoy said, awestruck. "I can't believe this. Bloody hell. I could live here."

"I see you like it."

"I love it." Draco looked over at Harry in a weird sort of way. "Damn it, Potter. Why I am I always blabbering out my deepest darkest feelings to your unworthy person?"

"Must be my natural charm," Harry said, smirking. "Don't worry. It's kind of obvious how ecstatic you are during Potions class. You'd have to be extremely thick not to notice how you love to stand over your cauldron, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. How you take pleasure in bottling fame, brewing glory, even putting a stopper in death.

Draco raised an eyebrow in a very fetching manner. "How'd you remember all that? Snape said that back in first year!"

"Well, I was paying attention, which he said I wasn't. And I'd be hard put not to forget that—it was the speech that made my life a living hell."

Draco gave a triumphant smile. "And now it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?" said Harry, distracted.

"To make your life a living hell."

"Let's get this over with, then."

................................................................................................................................................

Two days later...

"You're making my life a living hell."

"A Malfoy is always true to his word."

"It's 3:00 in the morning! Can't we just do this later again tonight?!"

Harry glared at him from across his cauldron, red smoke rising between them. Draco gave him a steely gaze. "Potter, you're not going anywhere until you get this Sleeping Potion right. I can't have you failing Potions if you're under my tutelage! Look at the vapor that's rising. It's red. Potter, it's supposed to be purple!"

"Well it doesn't help that whenever I make potions, the steam from my potion clouds up my glasses, and I can't read the instructions you write on the board across me. Also, I'm dead tired."

"Well, why didn't you tell me? Do I have to do everything for you, Potter? It only takes a simple potion. Oh wait. I don't have a cauldron."

"No problem." Harry thought to himself, I need an extra cauldron. Another cauldron appeared beside Harry's. Draco shook his head in wonder before collecting some ingredients.

He threw them all into the cauldron, then added water until the mark ¼. He stirred it three times counter clockwise and one time clockwise. He then lit a fire under, then waited until it boiled. He stirred it three times clockwise and one time counter clockwise. An orange mist had settled over the thick blue substance. Then he put out the fire and took off Harry's glasses. He soaked the lenses completely in the potion. The orange mist turned yellow. He took out the glasses, now dry, and handed them back to Harry.

"That should do it. You'll be able to see through all types of gaseous substances now. Unless they break. The Reparo charm will cancel it out."

"Thanks," Harry said, amazed.

"Piece of cake, Potter. Oh yeah, drink this as well." He drew out a small vial from the inside of his robes. Harry recognized the swirling sky blue liquid as the Energizing Tonic they had done in class. He downed it in one gulp. It tasted like a fruity sort of drink, slightly bitter but palatable. It left him feeling wide awake and restless.

"Now Potter, let's try the Potion again. Evanesco." His poor excuse for a Sleeping Potion vanished, leaving a clean, empty cauldron.

"Now, try it again."

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5 a.m.

"Much better, Potter. Much better."

Harry looked proudly at his cauldron, where his Sleeping Potion was cooling down and steadily getting thicker. It was a bubblegum-like purple, just like the appropriate color of the end product.

"Hey, Potter. You're glowing."

"Huh?"

"You're blushing, Potter! See?" He waved a small mirror in front of Harry. He was turning red! It was just because he was proud about his potion. That was it. Yeah. He was glowing with pride.

Draco groaned. "I'm too tired to even think about why you're blushing in front of me. Just give me some of that potion you made, and drink some as well. God knows I need a dreamless sleep."

What did he mean by that? Harry thought. Oh, we need a bed to collapse on.

A queen-sized bed appeared next to the table. Harry drank some of the Sleeping Potion out of a flask and gave it clumsily to Draco before collapsing onto the bed. Draco gulped down some, and then fell unceremoniously beside Harry.

Harry woke up to find Draco bending over his cauldron, adding a powdery substance. He sat up, realizing that he had not bothered to take off his glasses before he fell asleep. He looked at the blackboard, and saw Draco's elaborate writing spell out a heading: The Forgetfulness Potion. He glared at the heading, feeling resentful all of a sudden.

"Nice to know you're having as much fun as I am," he said sarcastically.

Draco paused to turn and look at him. "I'm not trying to forget this," he said gesturing around. "I just need to forget... something else."

Then Harry realized what he was trying to forget.

"Numbing the pain for a while will only make it worse when you finally feel it," Harry said gently, subconsciously quoting the very words Albus Dumbledore told him the night Cedric Diggory died.

"What do you know about it, Potter?" Malfoy blurted out.

"Everything." Harry smiled at him sadly. "I see him in my dreams. I see Voldemort and everything he does. I see when he's happy. I see when he's angry. I see when he's killing. I see everyone he kills."

"No. Stop. I don't want to hear it," Draco said suddenly.

"I saw your father die."

"No! You didn't! You're lying! Tell me you're lying!" Draco's knees gave way. He fell into Harry's lap, where he buried his face into Harry's robes, his voice muffled against Harry's chest. "Please. Tell me it's not true. It's not true. It's not true."

Harry's robes soaked up Draco's tears as the blond boy held onto him like he was the only real thing left. It was Harry's connection to Voldemort that Draco had relied on. He begged Harry to tell him his father was alive, but Harry just couldn't do it. Instead he patted Draco awkwardly on the back. He let Draco hold him for what seemed like eternity and his heart cried out for the boy who could only deny the inevitable.

Harry had accepted Sirius' death a long time ago. Yes, he still mourned him, but he knew that Sirius would never come back.

But Draco was a lost little boy who knew only that his father was a strong man, his role model, his mentor, indestructible. And he couldn't bring himself to face the fact that his father had gone. Forever.

Draco finally pulled away from Harry, sitting beside him on the bed.

"He left me. Why did he do that? He said he would never leave me. Never."

"He didn't leave you. He didn't want to. If he had sacrificed you to Voldemort, yes, you could say he left you. If he had forced you to become a Death Eater, then he would have left you. But he sacrificed himself for you. He didn't leave you. He loved you." Harry didn't know how these words were spilling out of his mouth. All he knew was that they were the right words to say.

Draco buried his head in his hands, tearing at his hair. "It's just so hard..." he whispered, despair tinting his words.

"I know," Harry whispered back.