Disclaimer: Not mine.

Reviewers: SARYA, thank you for some very useful (and valid) criticism. I have attempted to address one or two of them in this chapter, and will keep the rest in mind as I write more. Also, ALANARIDDLE, thank you for your input, it is very well thought out and entirely valid. I am having some difficulties with the neglected action part of my plot, but I will do my best to pull it off. Special thanks also to SPENCERBROWN for your ongoing encouragement. To EVERYONE ELSE: THANK YOU!!!

Ch.20: One, Two, No, Three Conversations

"Diem, wait!"

At the far end of the corridor, DM slowed, taking a few more steps before hesitantly turning around. He arched a questioning, scarred eyebrow, but his face was as expressionless as an empty slate. Harry came up and stopped about half a meter away from the strange object of his affections, and actually managed to not look at the boils, and to focus instead on his intense eyes. Harry's mind had been heavy over the last few days, muddling both over the Voldemort situation (a constant worry), as well as over what to do with regards to the unpredictable blond before him. Diem had kissed him this time, what did that mean? Hope, that bitch, could not help but come out full-blown and demand that he pursue the matter, fear and nerves be damned.

Harry looked down at his feet and said, "I, uh, just wanted to talk about. . . what happened the other day."

DM's face went from expressionless to steely. "It was a mistake, plain and simple. I acted without thinking."

Harry still didn't look up, and began picking at his bitten nails instead. "Yeah, I figured as much. . . but doesn't that still mean that you wanted to kiss me?"

DM looked searchingly into the down turned face. Harry was right; though he had acted impulsively, there had been some part of him that wanted to reach out to the endearing Gryffindor. So he nodded slowly. "Yes, I guess so. But that hardly matters, we can't indulge this. . . thing, whatever it is, between us. We're on the eve of war, for Merlin's sake, if we're not there already, and you are one of the key players in that war. Now is not the time to start something with me."

DM's argument was quite reasonable, and that fact alone pissed Harry off to no end. "Fuck the war! I am sick of every part of my life being dictated by Voldemort! My parents are dead because of him! I have to live with my horrible relatives because I'm in danger anywhere else! My godfather spent a decade in Azkaban and then died because of him! The press hounds me because of him! My friends' lives have been put at risk because of him! My whole life has been a test of endurance – not to mention a freak show – all because of him, and now you're saying that I can't even have a crush on someone because of him! Fine, then answer me this: what do I have that it worth fighting for?"

DM was rather surprised by Harry's outburst, but he did a good job of concealing it. He sighed, then after a long pause looked deeply into Harry's blazing green eyes. "You're right. You should be able to have crushes, girlfriends even, or maybe a boyfriend if that's your fancy. But Harry, I'm more trouble than I'm worth. You should have a someone who will be able to give you what you want, who'll be able to stand and fight by you, someone who will make you happy."

Harry's anger was quickly turning to distress, and his voice cracked as he asked, "Why can't you be those things?"

"Harry. . .," DM almost whined, before letting his jumbled thoughts on the issue tumble out in an increasingly hysterical attempt to get Harry to understand. "You of all people know how messed up I am. I can't stand by you and fight by your side. I've killed people, Harry! I've really hurt people, I've tortured them until they were nothing but a pain and blood, then I've raped them! These are the nightmares that plague me every time I close my eyes, and I've sworn never to be part of any of that again! How can I enter into a relationship with you, when I'm barely a person myself?! I'm so fucked up that I don't think I can even like people in that way! Ever since Draco died, I haven't been able to connect with people at all! Mafloy looked at people and saw them for how they could serve his interests. And now when I look at people, I can tell if they're objectively attractive or not, whether they have admirable qualities or not, but it doesn't mean anything to me! In all the months since Malfoy disappeared, I haven't had even one woody! I like you, Harry, I mean I think I do, but I just don't think I'm capable of feeling lust, or having a crush, or whatever it is you want me to feel! I'm nothing! I'm a nobody who is full of anger and desperaton! How can I possibly return your feelings?! How can you even have feelings for me?! You don't know me! You just like the pretty face that I hate!"

His rant ended, and his words wounded, and Harry had to choke back the urge to cry, though his face revealed the pain that the tears that refused to prove. He took a step closer to the equally miserable looking Slytherin, and reached out a hand to caress his face, completely ignoring the sores that blemished the perfect skin. "I could show you," he offered pathetically, his mind grasping for something to say to convince DM. "I mean, you're right, I don't know everything about you, but who ever does? I think I know enough to know that I like what I see. And what I see isn't your pretty face. If you were still Mafloy, I wouldn't like you no matter how beautiful you were, surely you realize that! If you need time, I can wait. If you need me to move slow, I can do that. What I can't do is just give up. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I don't want to let it go! What if I never meet anyone who makes me feel this way again?! I would never forgive myself for not taking a chance with you. So your sexuality is undeveloped, I can accept that! I can help! It could even be fun!"

Harry and DM looked desolately at each other – the latter torn between truly liking the former and the conviction that he was incapable of being what Gryffindor really wanted; and the former being torn between knowing that they would be perfect together and the fear that the Slytherin wouldn't allow their connection to blossom to its full potential.

The seconds creeped by as they studied each other, before the silence finally became too much for Harry. "Can I kiss you?," he whispered hoarsely.

DM didn't know what he wanted, and his expression proved it, but after a pause, he nodded in resignation. Could things really get any more fucked up then they already were?

Merlin knows where he got the balls, but Harry reached out both hands to cup the DM's face, and tenderly pulled the blond towards him. Harry closed his eyes though DM kept his wide open with wonder, and he kissed his ex-rival as compassionately and expressively as possible. Their lips met, and Harry poured all his emotions into the kiss, desperately hoping to convince the other boy that to take a chance on him. He caressed the soft lips with his tongue, and nibbled on them gently, until DM's eyelids also drooped shut.

As they drew away from each other, Harry heard DM whisper, "Benedictus."

Harry opened his eyes and frowned in confusion. "What was that?"

DM opened his eyes too. "It's a Catholic blessing that my grandmother – from the French side – used to you say after anything significant happened. She said it was like a spell, but it only worked if God wanted to give you benediction. God never listened before, but maybe he will now."

Harry looked hopefully into DM's unreadable eyes. "Does that mean you're willing to take a chance?"

After a long pause, DM sighed, though a little smile graced his lips. "Okay, Potter, you bloody poofter, you've convinced me. I'll give it a try."

Harry grinned. "You won't regret it. Now, let's get you the Infirmary. You look like you've got the world's worst case of chicken pox."

! ! ! This is a break. ! ! !

That night Harry sat behind the closed curtains of his bed, as usual, trying to calm his mind before going to sleep. What a day it had been! Just thinking about Diem made his blood race! Mme Pompfrey hadn't let him stay to keep DM company, saying that it was almost curfew, so he hadn't been able to get in any more kisses, but there was always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. . . Whoah boy! Cool it! We've got to take this slow, we don't want to scare him off, do we? He's like a wild animal, like a wild stallion, we have to earn his trust so that he'll let us stroke him. . . Stop it! Bad thoughts! No wild horse sex! And stop using the royal 'we' to talk to yourself! Ahhh! Like second person is any better!

Then Ron burst in and plopped himself on the bed, interrupting Harry's manic thoughts. He opened his eyes and stared at his friend quizzically. "Can I help you?"

"What's up between you and Malfoy?," Ron asked accusingly, looking peeved. "And don't you even try to deny it, I'm not as dumb as everyone thinks I am. I know you and Hermione have been spending a lot of time with him, and I thought it was because you wanted to learn his dirty death eater secrets, but I've been noticing how you look at him and how you act around him: like he's your new best friend or something! And what happened this evening?! You left DA to escort him to the Infirmary! He didn't need any help! But your absence was conspicuous and irresponsible! 'Mione can't manage that group by herself!"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He hadn't really thought about it, but it was obvious now that he was going to have to tell Ron the truth, and Hermione too, though he wouldn't have put it above Hermione to have already guessed. They had to know simply because his life was so complicated and so dangerous that such secrets could have dire implications – Sirius's death had proven quite thoroughly that ignorance could be deadly. Not to mention just how difficult it would be hide a developing relationship with anyone from his nosy friends. He knew he could tell them, for he trusted them both explicitly, but that didn't mean that he trusted Ron's initial reaction to be a reasonable one.

"I have a crush on him," he answered calmly.

Ron blinked, then. . . "What!?," he yelled in shocked outrage, and Harry clamped his hand over his friend's mouth.

"Shhh! It's not like that! Diem-uh, Malfoy isn't who he used to be!," Harry tried to explain, doing a particularly bad job.

Ron scowled. "That's hard to believe. What, daddy died and he had a change of heart?!"

"No!," Harry hissed defensively. "Daddy died and he had a change of mind, literally!"

"What is that supposed to mean?," Ron snorted.

Harry took his wand, muttered a silencing spell, then turned angrily to Ron. "He has been under the Imperius for the last six years! That is why he has been acting so strange for the last two months! He's been trying to adapt to having control over his life!"

Ron's expression was a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and concern. "Harry! Surely you don't believe that! It's the classic excuse for all death eaters! He's probably acting under You-Know-Who's orders!"

Now Harry was getting a little irritated. "I know that, Ron! And I believe him anyway! The things I have seen him do, the way he's been acting – there's no faking it! I'm not stupid either you know!"

Ron couldn't believe this turn of events. Harry was stupidly playing right into Voldemort's hands! "Next thing your going to tell me is that his father really was under the Imperius, just like the Ministry says! This is Malfoy, we're talking about! You shouldn't underestimate him!"

"I'm not! Dammit! If you don't believe me, ask Hermione! She was there when he told us!" Uh-oh, he'd played the Hermione card, and there was no way that his outburst could make the situation any better.

"What?!," Ron screeched in outrage, feeling betrayed and becoming increasingly worked up. "You two have been dealing with Malfoy, and leaving me out of it! I thought we were friends! I thought we did things together! I've stood by you against everything! And now you and Hermione go off and get friendly with Malfoy without me! I thought we were friends, but you've been doing things behind my back!"

"We are friends!," Harry bellowed back. "We didn't include you because we knew that you'd react like this! Hermione believes him too, but getting him to trust us has been difficult enough without you constantly hating and berating him! Dammit, dammit, dammit, Ron! Trust me on this one! He's not who he used to be!"

For a moment Ron looked like he was going to continue the shouting match, but then he unexpectedly deflated. Harry had asked him to trust him – and he did; and he trusted Hermione's judgment too; not to mention the fact that Malfoy had been acting pretty fucking bizarrely as of late. And so his stubborn hatred of Malfoy crumbled. "Oh, Harry, are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry insisted petulantly.

Ron grimaced. "I just don't understand. What do you see in him? Even as he is now he's unpleasant, and impatient. He attacks people without any cause, he goes into a rage at a drop of the hat. He's like a rodent, so pointy and skinny and flat-"

"He's a boy, Ron! He's supposed to be flat!" Ron was still looking at him with such an expression of skepticism that he felt compelled to continue. "Ron, you're completely biased. He's gorgeous, and I bet almost every girl at this school would agree with me. As for his personality. . . yes, he's impatient, he's unpredictable, he's liable to fly off the handle at any moment, but he's . . . Merlin, he would hate that I was telling you this, and you mustn't repeat it, but he's gentle, and vulnerable too. He's just lost and confused, like me!"

The two Gryffindors stared appraisingly at each other for a long moment, before Ron lowered his head and rubbed his temples. That was when the rest of Harry's confession made its implications apparent to the red head. "Wait a sec. . . does this mean. . . you're gay?," Ron asked scandalously.

Harry sighed – this wasn't a topic he was very sure of himself. "I don't know. . . I really like Malfoy, but he's the only bloke I've ever had a thing for. And there've been a few girls I've fancied, like Cho, but there's been no one I've fancied as much as him."

At this point Ron was too bewildered to effectively respond with anger. He was almost speechless, though (being Ron) that wasn't enough to shut him up. "Merlin, Harry, as if you weren't a big enough freak. . . "

For a moment, Harry looked thoroughly pissed at his comment; then, in an abrupt turn about, he laughed. And laughed. He didn't even understand what was funny, but still he laughed so hard that tears came to eyes, before he was finally able to choke out, "I-hahah. . . I know. What would-hahaha,. . . what would Voldemort say-hahaha. . . that he's going to be defeated by a-HAHAHA. . . by a dracosexual! HAHAHA!!!"

Ron couldn't help it, Harry's laughter was infectious, and pretty soon both were clutching there stomachs as tear-inducing convulsions of laughter tore through there bodies. "Oh, the humiliation!," Ron gasped between his manic giggles.

Finally, they both sobered: Ron still wasn't finished with his inquisition. "What about Malfoy? Does he actually like you back?"

"You don't have to sound like that would be so impossible," Harry responded darkly, before submitting to Ron's glare and answering the question. "He doesn't know how he feels. He's confused I guess. But he did agree to a trial period."

"Harry. . .," Ron groaned, smacking his palm against his forehead.

"I know, I know. Just trust me, okay? I won't let this blow up in everyone's face." In other words, keep your fingers crossed. . .

Ron studied Harry for a long moment, and it was almost as if he could read the Boy-Who-Lived's thoughts. "Merlin, Harry, I hope you know what you're doing."

! ! ! This is break. ! ! !

Meanwhile, it was a little past eleven, and Snape was dozing off at his desk. In his hand he held a scroll that he had been trying to grade, but his eyes were almost completely closed and his head was swaying slightly. Suddenly, his head jerked straight and his eyes flew open as he startled awake. Had he heard something?

He listened closely for a moment, then decided it was nothing. He blinked several times, trying to inspire a little adrenaline to keep him awake for a little while longer, then he focused once again on the barely legible scrawl before him.

Then he heard it again: a faint rap on the door.

His eyes flickered up at the clock on his wall. Eleven fifteen. His eyes narrowed in annoyance; whoever it was better be in the late stages of a lethal crisis. "THIS BETTER BE AN EMERGENCY!," he bellowed angrily.

The door didn't open. After a beat Snape sighed. It was probably some sniveling first year traumatized by some unspeakable nightmare. Merlin, he really disliked children – disgusting, snotty, brainless maggots. How on Earth had he ended up as a teacher?! "WELL! DON"T JUST STAND OUT THERE! COME IN!"

The door inched open, and DM poked his head in, looking as though he was in the last stages of a lethal crisis. Snape's demeanor did a complete one eighty: his harsh expression faded into one of unfamiliar concern and he stood up to take several steps towards the blond. "Draco! Come in! Sit down!"

Though it was hard to tell by the voice in which he issued his instructions, Severus was thrilled by DM's appearance. Ever since he had found out at the beginning of the school year, he had wanted nothing more than to help his godson, to get to know who the boy was now, to reestablish a relationship with the child that had years ago sat on his knee and pulled his hair. . . the only child he had ever truly cared for. . . to make some connection with Narcissa's only living child. . .

But the old Draco Malfoy had been so aloof and distant, and so like his father; and this new version had made it absolutely clear that he wanted no help whatsoever from his head of house. Severus had tried; indeed, he had made more overtures towards his godson than his pride and general personality would normally allow. But always the same response, along the lines of, "I'm fine! I don't want any help! I can deal with this myself!"

Actually, DM had come to Snape twice, both times with bruises, looking like he was about to explode with rage. And both times, all Snape could do was listen to the boy rant and rave, and – once – extinguish a spontaneous conflagration that erupted on his carpet. Both times, DM had raged until he was nearly exhausted, curtly thanked his professor, then stormed out of the office.

This time, however, was clearly different. DM's improvement had shown remarkable improvement during the course of November, and now here he was, looking distraught. Maybe this time he would be able to get something out of the boy besides an angry tirade against anyone and everyone under the sun.

DM despondently moved towards – then sprawled himself on – the couch Snape gestured to. Snape lowered himself into the sofa seat across from his godson. Snape was not a particularly sensitive or sympathetic individual, but the boy before him made him wish he was. "What's wrong?," he asked roughly, but with obvious effort to show his concern.

DM sighed miserably, then opened his eyes to look pathetically at Severus. He had thought he could navigate everything on his own, and he had done a magnificent job, through nearly impossible times, but now everything was getting so. . . complicated. "I think I may have just made a serious error of judgment."

Severus felt a stab of fear as the only somewhat farfetched possibility occurred to him that perhaps Draco had snapped and killed someone. "What did you do?," he questioned fearfully.

DM leaned forward and grasped his head as though in pain, his body twitching oddly. His mind felt like it was in chaos, and thoughts were hard to string together. "I think. . . ," he ground out, "that I've gotten myself involved in something completely out of my league. . ."

Not with Voldemort! Surely not. . . that wouldn't make any sense! "What? How? With who?" Severus tried to restrain the influx of panic.

"Potter."

Potter?! "Potter?!" Now Snape was getting frustrated and annoyed. "Draco, are you going to tell me what this is about?"

Every word past DM's lips was an agonizing effort and the expression on his face clearly conveyed this to Snape. "Potter and I. . . we're doing something together. . . I don't know what. . . Fuck! I can't think!" Damndamndamn!!! He had been doing so well! His mind was having a meltdown!

Severus watched worriedly as his godson started clutching his hair tightly, ripping it out of its twists, and he was gasping raggedly for breath. He did what came naturally: he reached across the divide and smacked the boy, then proceeded to talk him down. "Breathe! And calm down, for Merlin's sake! Get a hold of yourself. You're just having a panic attack. Whatever is going on between you and Potter, I doubt it is worth all this. He hasn't convinced you to run off on some hair-brained scheme, has he?"

DM was doing his best just to breathe, but he managed to shake his head.

"Good. Then I find it hard to believe that whatever is going on is worth all this hysteria. For all his faults, there is only so far astray that little cretin will lead you. If this is about DA, I know you and a few others have been attending. I think it's a good idea, actually."

DM shook his head again, but by this point Snape had managed to talk long enough for him to partially pull himself together. Keep it simple, don't think about the big picture, just focus, focus, focus. . . "He kissed me."

"What?!" Uh oh, maybe that wasn't the best way to but it. Snape looked furious and he jumped to his feet. "HE DID WHAT?! That little bastard! How DARE he take advantage of you like that?! Dumbledore will hear about-"

"No!" Now DM was on his feet too, looking determined and borderline hostile. "Don't you dare! I came here for advice! Not to have you meddle in my life! I'm so fucking stupid! I should have known better than to expect you, than to expect. . ." He faltered as he mind spun around like wheels off the pavement. It was as though he had used up all his mental reserves during his trying conversation with Potter, and now all he could do was try to keep himself from falling apart. "Ahhh! Just stop! Sit down! Talk to me! Just don't! Do you here me?! Don't don't don't!"

Reluctantly, Snape sat down, mostly because DM's behavior made it obvious that his anger wasn't helping. What DM needed right now was a voice of reason and rationality. Not someone joining him off the deep end of sanity. "I hear you. I won't tell Dumbledore. Now sit down, you're just making yourself hysterical. I'll listen to what you say if you can say it calmly."

DM dropped back onto the couch, and tensely sat there for several long seconds, breathing heavily but evenly as he tried to subdue his mind. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked directly at his godfather.

Severus was worried. Yes, DM had been showing remarkable improvement, but this episode just proved that he hadn't improved enough to deal with a certain degree of pressure, and surely that meant that he shouldn't be subjected to Potter's advances. But he had to be rational about this, and get all the facts. "Tell me what happened," he said coolly, almost with forced disinterest.

DM looked at him warily, but finally spoke., pouring out the story in a miserable rant. "Him and Granger figured out that something was wrong. . . Well, he had kissed me before that, and I had practically beat him to pulp. . . But then they confronted me, thinking that I was something that had taken over Malfoy's body, which I guess I am in a way. . . so I told them the truth. . . and after that, well even before that, Potter had been meeting up so that he could help me figure out my magic. . . but this time when we met up, after having told him everything, it was easier to cast spells, and we dueled, and everything was so great, then I kissed him, but I was afraid, so I ran away. And then today, after DA, he confronted me, and I told him just what you're thinking – that I'm too fucked up to be anyone's anything, that he deserves someone better, someone who's not hopelessly crazy. But he said he wanted me anyway, and I liked that, and he said that he would help me, and I liked that too. . . and I was so stupid! I shouldn't have listened to him! I am too fucked up to be anything to him.. . ."

DM looked as though he was going to continue, but Severus felt it was high time to interrupt. It was clearly a very. . . delicate situation. If he encouraged his godson to break off with Potter, then it would only reinforce his rather low opinion of his self-worth, which he certainly didn't want to do. But surely anything that happened with Potter would be ill-fated. . . wouldn't it? For all his faults (and there were many), Potter was loyal, and he stood by his friends, would die for them even. . . Maybe someone like that is exactly what the confused and dejected boy before him needed. Carefully, he asked, "Most importantly, how do you feel about him?"

The question just made DM look more wretched. "I don't know. I like him, I think. But it's so hard. . . all I ever feel strongly is anger and hate, and this horrible horrible desperation. Whatever I feel for him, it seems so out of place with the rest of me. . . Maybe I wasn't meant to feel that kind of things. . . I'm scared of it. . . it's not me," he admitted pathetically.

Snape's heart was melting. He knew how the boy felt – to be so bitter and hostile all the time that any feelings of love or happiness were foreign and suspicious. But it wasn't a life he would recommend, especially not to his godson, who had gone through so much already. No, he wanted Draco to be happy, and so he found himself giving unimaginable advice. "As much as I dislike the brat, and cannot for the life of me understand what you see in him, he's a good kid. He won't hurt you. I think it's perfectly normal that you are scared, but don't let that stop you. Maybe he can help you, help you realize a whole new part of yourself, a part that is not so angry and bitter all the time."

DM tried to protest, by Snape barreled on. "And no matter what you think, you are worthy! You deserve all the happiness in the world. And if all that happiness comes with Potter's face on it, then you deserve the bleeding Boy-Who-Lived."

DM looked a little shocked, but managed a weak smile, and for a brief moment Severus felt the unwelcome and completely out of character urge to hug the boy. Instead he stood and glared. "Now if you are finished wallowing in completely unwarranted self-loathing, it is almost midnight, and both of us have to be up early tomorrow."

DM got up and looked into his godfather's eyes for a long moment before reaching out his hand. "Thank you."

Snape nodded, and shook his hand. Then DM left to return to his dormitory.

! ! ! This is the chapter break. ! ! !

Please review! I promise, the action is on the way! Just wanted to round out the fact that DM and HP do not exist in a vacuum, which is one of my perpetual struggles in writing.