A/N: I fixed a few misspelled names. I know it's a minor problem, but I'm anal, what can I say? Please continue to scout out errors for me, since I don't have my HP books with me and can't reference them myself. More at the end of the chapter. Enjoy!

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XIX

XIXIX "An Oath Bound With Blood" XIXIX

Harry was open.

He was a swirling mess of anger and grief and helplessness and fear.

He wished he could push everyone away. He wished he could shut himself down. He wished he could turn it all off, or at the very least, take a break from everything for a day.

He sat at breakfast amongst his quiet and grave-faced friends, staring at his plate, wishing he could eat. Stress played itself out in Harry's body as restlessness and nausea. Lack of sleep and proper diet made him weaker, more susceptible to stress. This couldn't last. Harry was nearing his breaking point.

If for only a day everything would cease to exist... if for only a day he could be just a normal sixteen year old, with normal worries... if for only a day he could not care about the world around him... then, maybe, he would be ready to face the reality of the life of Harry Potter.

As it was, he walked into the Great Hall this morning to the sound of Slytherins whispering, "Cedric Diggory". The owl post had brought no news from Lupin. The front page of the Daily Prophet showed another picture of the Dark Mark with the message, "For you, Harry Potter," above the site of Lupin's attack. And, Harry realized with a swear, he had not finished his Potions homework.

Harry rested his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. Ginny placed her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "I'm fine," he growled.

"Harry, just shirk off Potions today," said Ron. "Snape's going to find some way to give you detention anyway. You may as well earn it by catching up on some sleep."

Harry smirked at the appealing idea, but then shook his head. "No, I gotta do something. This waiting is horrible."

"You'd rather go to Potions?" asked Hermione, disbelievingly.

"You'd rather I cut class?" asked Harry, mockingly.

"Well, no, I—" Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking at Harry's weakening form. "Well, yes, actually. I think you should cut class." Ron's jaw dropped. Hermione ignored him. "Really, Harry, you have to take care of yourself."

There's too much else for me to take care of.

"I said I was fine."

He got up to head to Potions. His friends jumped up to follow him. Within seconds, a knot of DA members were also with him. This happened often now. Harry noticed they all had looks of pride on their faces. Apparently, they had taken Ginny's words to heart and were showing off the DA's strength. Ginny was a good leader, he thought. The DA had several good leaders.

The group slowly dropped off by twos and threes as people made their way to their own classes. Finally, Harry, Hermione, and Ron rounded the corner to the dungeons corridor. A few Slytherins were already waiting outside the classroom. They began whispering "Cedric Diggory" as soon as they saw Harry.

Harry saw Malfoy look up gleefully, and he turned away. 'I'm not really here today,' he thought. 'I'm shirking off class, and then came anyway, just for a distraction. It doesn't matter what Malfoy or Snape do because I'm not really here.'

He was beginning to calm with thoughts of non-existence, but then a slow drawl made its way through to his consciousness.

"... they're dangerous. Personally, I think all werewolves ought to be exterminated." Hermione and Ron were both holding onto Harry, who had clenched his fists and was struggling toward Malfoy. He could feel his blood running hot. He could taste it.

Malfoy looked at him and continued. "But we shouldn't just kill them. That's too good for them. We should put them in pins first, and slowly torture them to death."

Harry saw red and broke free from his companions, completely unaware of what he was doing. He tackled Malfoy, slamming him onto the cold stone floor, pounding his fists into the Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle both tried to grab Harry away from their leader, but Harry reared back and socked them both in the face. They fell back, startled and bloodied. Malfoy took the opportunity caused by the break in his attack. When Harry turned back to him, he was ready. He decked Harry in the face with all his might. Harry fell backward and Malfoy rolled on top of him. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Gryffindor, opened his mouth and—

"POTTER! MALFOY!"

The two looked up from their brawl, jolted by the impossibly loud shout from the Potions Master. Professor Snape swooped down on them, fury in his eyes. Behind him stood Professor Dumbledore.

"What is the meaning of this?" yelled Snape.

"Professor, he attacked me!" whined Malfoy.

Harry looked up at him. Malfoy was still on top of him, holding him down with one hand, pointing his wand at Harry's face with the other. He could use this to his advantage.

"I attacked you?"

Malfoy flushed and lowered his wand quickly. He untangled himself from Harry and stood up. Harry remained on the floor, doing his best to look hurt.

"He attacked Crabbe and Goyle, too!" shouted Malfoy, realizing how pathetic he looked and sounded, standing between the two largest sixth years, and claiming the skinny boy laying wounded on the floor had attacked and overcome the three of them.

"I see," said Snape with a sneer. "Misters Crabbe and Goyle, go the infirmary to take care of your injuries. Mr. Potter, twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention for starting fights in the hallways." Dumbledore cleared his throat just slightly. Snape sneered, and paused for only a moment before continuing, "And Mr. Malfoy, a detention for you as well."

Malfoy was seething as he stalked off toward the infirmary. Snape ushered the class into the dungeon, except for Harry, whom Dumbledore held aside.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry stared at his feet. The fight and the accompanying adrenaline rush had temporarily distracted Harry from his greater worries. Expecting to be lectured on fighting, he was greatly surprised when Dumbledore spoke.

"He's going to be okay, Harry."

"Who, sir?" Malfoy? Harry looked up in confusion.

"Remus Lupin," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Harry felt a rush of emotion as everything came back to him. Relief washed over him as he realized what Dumbledore was saying to him. "He'll be in St. Mungo's for quite awhile, but he is expected to fully recover."

Harry slumped back against the wall, taken by exhaustion.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "Just tired, sir."

"Of course. Why don't you take the morning off to catch up on some sleep." Harry looked up at Dumbledore's twinkling eyes that were studying his own. "But perhaps you should stop by the infirmary to see Poppy first."

Harry nodded, and walked away. But as tired as he was, he opted to skip the infirmary, and headed straight to his dormitory.

XIXIX

Harry was shaken awake. "Come on, mate, wake up."

Harry looked around groggily. "Hnn? What? What time is it?"

"Dinnertime," said Ron. Harry sat upright.

"What?"

"We couldn't wake you at lunch, so we made an executive decision that you should skip all of your classes for the day," said Ron happily.

"But—" Harry reached for his glasses.

"Don't worry. Hagrid and McGonagall both pretended not to notice you were gone. I wanted to let you sleep longer, but Hermione and Ginny made me come wake you for dinner." He cut Harry a look. "I have to warn you, though, they're cooking up some scheme to make you eat tonight. I don't think it'll be painful or anything, but..."

Harry rubbed his stomach. It let out a soft growl. "Thanks, mate. But I don't think that'll be a problem tonight... Did you hear about Lupin?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, it's great, huh? Hagrid told us before class started. He reckons Dumbledore might let you visit him this weekend."

They made their way down to the Great Hall, and found places saved for them. Ginny and Hermione had saved a seat for Harry between them. As a joke, Ron tried to take it. They both glared at him until he backed away and sat next to Dean. Harry fought back a laugh. He sat down and declared, "Merlin, I'm starving!" and began to load his plate. The girls at his sides watched him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Harry broke out laughing.

"Alright, Harry?" Christopher Billings slid into the seat across from him.

"Christopher! I didn't think you were ever going to get out!"

"Me neither. On Friday, Madam Pomfrey said I'd be there a day or two. This afternoon, I finally had to demand she let me leave." He paused and narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Did you really bust up Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle?!"

Harry laughed again. At the time, he was just reacting in anger, but when put that way, it sounded so... cool... and satisfying.

Christopher laughed and slammed his hand on the table. "Oh that's great! You should have seen them—whining like babies, they were. But, man, are they pissed at you!"

"Speaking of which," said Hermione, "Snape says your detention is tonight."

Harry groaned, but then shrugged. "Whatever. I'm not going to let even that ruin my mood."

XIXIX

That night, Harry made his way down to Snape's dungeon classroom with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny at his side.

Malfoy was waiting outside the classroom with Crabbe and Goyle.

The two groups stood glaring at each other from opposite ends of the hall until Snape strode around the corner, robes billowing.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he said, "Detention is not a social event. Potter and Malfoy, in my classroom! The rest of you, back to the dormitories!" The Gryffindors lagged a moment. "Now!" he barked.

Harry had a feeling his friends were only a hallway away. Hermione had assured them (although Ron fervently disagreed) that no harm would come to Harry while he was in detention with Snape, but they could not be sure about his trips to and from, so the group appointed themselves to accompany Harry.

Harry smiled to himself as he looked from Malfoy's sneering face, to Snape's sneering face. Everything seemed so comical all of the sudden.

"Find something amusing, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape coldly.

"No sir," Harry responded, trying to pull the smile back inside.

"Indeed. Your punishment is to inventory my supply closet. I am running low on numerous ingredients, as well as completed potions that I keep in store. You two are to make note of which ingredients, as well as which completed potions need to be restocked. You will also make note of the ingredients for each completed potion I need. You may use your text books for reference..." Snape looked at Harry impatiently. "Am I correct in assuming that your friends neglected to tell you to bring your current and past Potions text books with you to detention?" Harry nodded. "Very well. An additional fifteen points from Gryffindor, and you may share Mr. Malfoy's books."

Harry could sense Malfoy smirking next to him. He held Snape's eye in defiance, a smile playing in his own eye. He dropped his Occlumency shields for a moment. 'Lupin's okay,' he thought. 'You can't break me.' Harry was sure he saw Snape catch the thought.

"I'll be in my office if you have any questions. Detention is over when you are finished with your task." With that, he stalked out of the room.

"What are you smiling at?" spat Malfoy.

"Nothing. Just in a good mood." Malfoy glared at him. Harry smiled even bigger. He felt like laughing at the guy. "Shall we?"

Malfoy's eyes flickered uncertainly as Harry stood grinning like a fool. But then he seemed to strengthen his resolve of hatred. He walked to the storeroom, knocking Harry with his shoulder.

Harry wanted to laugh. This whole 'smiling' thing was really bugging Malfoy. The way he figured it, he now had a moral obligation to smile for as long as detention lasted.

He went into the storeroom, a big grin on his face. Malfoy was looking over the shelves to determine where to start. Harry stood smiling next to him. Malfoy glared up at him and muttered something, but Harry was too busy enjoying himself to catch it.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Harry asked, grinning.

"I said, you start over there on the top shelf," snarled Malfoy.

Harry beamed. "Okay!"

He walked over to one side of the storeroom, Malfoy the other. It was a small room—no bigger than a large walk-in closet. There were five rows of shelves. The top shelf was a few inches over Harry's line of sight. When he reached up to inventory the wolfsbane, his robe rattled a few bottles on lower shelves.

He stepped out of the supply closet and pulled his robe over his head. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt underneath. He felt his t-shirt slide up his back as he pulled his robe off. When he turned around, Malfoy was watching him.

"Taking you clothes off for me, Potter?" he asked, with a devilishly sly smirk.

Harry's smile faltered for a second.

"Oh, so that's what this is about," said Malfoy knowingly.

Harry gave him a smug smirk. "Quit talking out of your arse, Malfoy." He walked back into the storeroom and reached up to inventory the top shelf. He didn't hear Malfoy move at all, so he looked over his shoulder.

Malfoy was looking him up and down, appraising him. He caught Harry's eye. "Where's your smile now, Potter?" he asked smoothly.

Harry wanted to grin at him, regain the upper hand, but Malfoy was walking toward him, dripping with seductive poison. Harry turned around and faced the blonde, who stepped into his space. They were breathing the same air. Harry could feel Malfoy's body heat. Malfoy leaned forward and whispered into Harry's ear.

"Well, Potter, it seems I finally know what you want from me..." Harry moved his head away slightly. "Why you're always watching me..." Harry could feel Malfoy's breath in his ear, on his neck. "Why you're always... coming... to me, looking for a fight." He turned slightly so that he brushed up against Harry, pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "Is this what you want, Potter?" he whispered in a slow, seductive drawl.

Harry's heart was pounding. He didn't know what to do. His mind was telling him that Malfoy was a prat, but his body was telling him something entirely different.

He felt Malfoy's right hand touch his left hip and snake its way under his shirt. The touch startled Harry, who jerked, swinging his left shoulder back into the shelf behind him. One of the jars toppled forward, its top falling to the floor with the small sound of breaking glass. The contents of the bottle emptied, several drops landing on their arms.

Both of the boys stared at the drops of clear potion on their arms for a moment, horror-struck. Harry half expected his arm to melt away.

With sudden motion, Malfoy grabbed a rag nearby and wiped the potion from his arm. "What is it?!" he demanded.

"I don't know!" said Harry, taking the rag and wiping his own arm clean.

They looked to the shelf, careful not to step in the spilled liquid, or touch any more of it until they knew what it was.

"Oh shit," said Malfoy.

"What?"

"Veritaserum."

"But we didn't drink any!"

"It seeps through the skin. Its effects will be muted, but we might tell each other anything!"

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, as it soaked in who it was they might spill their secrets to.

Harry might tell Malfoy anything. Malfoy might tell him anything.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you break our truce after winter break?" Harry gasped. He hadn't meant to ask that question out loud.

"My father and the Dark Lord tortured me for befriending their enemy." Malfoy slapped his hand over his mouth.

"How did they know?"

"How do you think?! Crabbe and Goyle told them!"

Harry looked at Malfoy with serious concern. "I'm sorry. I had wanted to talk to you about that, but you told me to sod off."

"You wanted to tal—How did you know about it?" asked Malfoy angrily.

"I saw it happen in a dream." 'And then Snape confirmed it,' thought Harry. Well at least he had a little control over what he said out loud.

"I thought Snape was supposed to have fixed that by now," said Malfoy. Then he slapped both hands over his mouth.

"How did you know about that?" asked Harry.

"Mhie hahzzrr tuhll ee affr a dheff eerr mheetn," said Malfoy through his hands. Harry tried act like he hadn't understood that Malfoy said, 'My father told me after a Death Eater meeting.' Knowing full well that Snape was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, he didn't think if would be a good idea for he, Harry Potter, to ever have reason to "suspect" Snape might be a Death Eater. Things would just get too complicated.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then something clicked in Harry's brain. "Wait, did you say your father tortured you too?" Malfoy nodded, both hands still firmly over his mouth. "But... he's your father!"

Harry was indignant.

Malfoy shrugged.

"You mean that wasn't even the first time?!" Harry was almost yelling.

Malfoy shook his head. Harry regarded him, breathing heavily in his anger. Malfoy looked scared. Of what? What Malfoy had just said? Of Harry?

Harry realized he had his fists clenched and that he was scowling at the blonde. Actually, he was scowling at Malfoy's father, but he was looking at Malfoy while he did so. He opened his hands and softened his demeanor.

"It's not always because of me, is it?"

Malfoy shook his head and lowered his hands enough to say, "No... not always."

'Just sometimes' seemed to echo unspoken in the room. Harry hung his head, and then looked up at Malfoy. "Look, I'm really sorry about that." Had he meant to say that? Harry couldn't tell at the moment.

Malfoy glared again. "What do you care, Potter?"

Harry focused. This guy had hurt him too much. "About you, personally? Not a whole lot, actually." Malfoy winced. "But I sympathize with your situation. Growing up with the Dursleys was hell on earth. My cousin and his friends would beat me almost daily. My aunt and uncle would lock me in a cupboard, and in fact, the cupboard was my bedroom until I was eleven... and I'm going to stop talking now."

"They locked me in the dungeon for days, Potter. They did Crucio and Imperio on me until I couldn't stand it. They said they'd kill me if I ever slipped again."

"Shit, Malfoy. How can you support Voldemort when he does things like that?"

"Voldemort's a mudblood who couldn't even overcome that fool of a wizard Dumbledore. I don't support him—I stay alive." Malfoy was shaking with anger. Harry couldn't tell if he was angry that he had admitted those things, or that Harry would ever have thought otherwise.

Harry was still trying to figure out just that when Malfoy caught him off guard. "Did the prophecy say that you are the only one who can bring down the Dark Lord?"

"Yes." Shit. The Order had gone to great lengths to ensure that Voldemort never knew what exactly the prophecy said. And Harry had just handed the information to Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked. "Now we both have secrets to keep."

Harry glared at him. "What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"I can't have you telling people about my family, and especially not about my views of Voldemort. You can't have me confirm the words of the prophecy to the Dark Lord. So, from where I'm standing, there's only one solution to this dilemma."

"Which is?"

"A binding magical oath. We make an oath to keep secret this whole conversation and then seal it with our blood. I don't think even Voldemort could break that."

Harry looked at him. "You realize that he might try."

"Don't worry, Potter. I don't think he can."

"I'm not worried for me. As far as I know, he's already working on the belief that I'm the only one who can kill him. What the hell does it matter to me if he knows for sure?"

"What are you saying?"

"I don't want you to be—" Harry caught himself before he said too much. "I don't want anyone to be tortured for me, if I can help it."

"Yeah, that's noble and all, but it's going to happen to me anyway." Harry felt an ache in his heart. He remembered his dream of Malfoy writhing on the floor in agony.

"I can't let you repeat those things I said, Potter," stated Malfoy, calmly, but firmly.

"Then let's make the oath."

XIXIX

They cleaned up the veritaserum and inventoried the store room. And once again, they talked. In their oath, they swore that they would never repeat to another person what the other had said during detention that night. Neither knew how long it would be until the veritaserum wore off completely, so they decided it was best to keep secret the entire detention, just in case.

With the oath behind them, Harry found that the pressure was off to maintain any pretenses with Malfoy. They talked about growing up in cold houses with families that didn't act like families. They talked about how Malfoy had secretly wished his father would stay in Azkaban when he was arrested last year, "But they'll never keep a Malfoy in prison." They talked about the history of the war, and the people who had been killed on both sides. They talked about Voldemort and his followers, who Malfoy swore were "okay really. It's not about good and evil. It's about power. Power, and fear." And they talked about each other, and how they could never be friends, "because I would chose to be alive than to be friends with Harry Potter, any day."

And Harry couldn't argue with that.

He found his friends waiting for him around the corner, and they walked back up to Gryffindor tower without incident. Harry told them what he had to do for detention, and Hermione swore that Snape never said anything about his Potions textbooks. Harry said it was okay, that it wasn't really that bad, because the detention had kept him and Malfoy too busy to bother each other, but it really wore him out.

Harry laid in bed that night thinking about his conversation with Malfoy. At some point, his thoughts slipped into dreams. He was talking with Malfoy in the storeroom, but sometimes it was the Quidditch field, and sometimes it was the hallway outside Snape's classroom.

"It isn't always because of me, is it?" he asked.

Malfoy shook his head. "No... not always."

Just sometimes.

"Look, I'm really sorry about that."

"What do you care?!" Malfoy decks him, and then roles on top of him. They're in the hallway fighting again. Malfoy pulls out his wand and aims it at Harry.

"It isn't always because of me, is it?"

"No... not always."

Just sometimes.

"I'm really sorry about that."

"What do you care?!" Malfoy decks him and roles on top of him.

"I lied, Malfoy... I do ca—"

"I would chose to be alive than to be friends with Harry Potter, any day."

Harry couldn't blame him.

"It isn't always because of me, is it?"

Malfoy decks him and roles on top of him. "Is this what you want, Potter?" he whispers in a slow, seductive drawl.

Harry reaches up to him. "I'm really sorry about that."

Malfoy smiles at him. They're standing on the Quidditch pitch, and then lying in the hall.

Malfoy roles on top of him. "Is this what you want, Potter?"

Harry reaches up to him, pulls him down.

"Yes."

XIXIX

XIX

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A/N:

Marilyn,MyBitterness: Does that answer your question?

Schnuff: Thanks, please keep reading!

HPSlashfan4evr: Thanks for the compliment. Please, continue to enjoy!

See, Remus is okay. Everyone, thank you for coming back, and new readers, welcome! Please review. Thanks for your support!

Peace, kati