Recap: "What's the matter?" Harry rubbed his forehead. "Damn scar. It always hurts after an Occlumancy session." Draco nodded and they headed in.

Chapter Seventeen

By the middle of the following week, Harry and Draco were thoroughly fed up with Occlumancy lessons. It seemed that the fates were bored or something, because every single lesson found the two boys flat on their backs, attempting to throw off the after affects of the Cruciatus curse.

Needless to say, they weren't pleased.

And so, what with one thing or another, that Friday night found them sneaking around the hallways of Hogwarts, under Harry's invisibility cloak, on their way back from an illegal visit to the storerooms of The Three Broomsticks. Clutched under their arms were a large number of bottles of what appeared to be Firewhiskey and the newest project from the Butter-Beer Company (which contained a great deal more alcohol than the company's previous concoctions).

The boys were quite intent on getting drunk because (or so they told each other) after all they'd been through the past week, they deserved to "let off some steam", as it were.

The last thing either of them would be able to recall was clinking a couple of bottles together and raising them to their lips.

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The next morning, Harry woke with a terrible headache. He decided, through the pain and tightly closed eyes, that, wherever the hell he was, It was warm and comfortable and he really just wanted to fall back into the dark oblivion provided by sleep.

Unable to do so, Harry eventually shifted onto his side, cracked his eyes open, squinted through the combination of lashes and early morning light and found…

There was something in the bed next to him.

Someone.

It was about then that he realized he was completely naked under the sheets.

That couldn't be a good sign.

Shit!

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, both naked, sat bolt upright at the exact same time. They wore equal looks of horror, which quickly morphed into grimaces that were covered by their hands as they both sprinted towards the bathroom in an effort to refrain from being sick all over the bedroom (Harry's bedroom).

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have been cursing Draco by this time, having assumed that the blond boy was to blame.

And yet, it is rather hard to blame someone when the two of you are leaning together for support with your heads bent over the same toilet, puking your guts out with equal intensity.

At any rate, they carefully avoided looking at each other as they hurried to their respective bedrooms. Neither was the least bit inclined to acknowledge anything that might or might not have happened the night before.

Seriously. Harry was sure he'd be scarred for life, I mean, waking up naked next to Draco Malfoy of all people! However, as there was nothing Harry could do about it (Hermione's time turner having been confiscated at the end of their third year), he tried his level best to pretend that it hadn't happened.

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That week passed slowly and painfully for the two boys. When you have all but one class with someone, many of these special classes where you two are the only students, and you live together, It's very difficult to 'not notice' the other person and it's impossible to completely avoid them.

That weekend, a Hogsmead weekend, came and went with little event save for Harry advancing to casting 'Expelliarmus' wandlessly. He was finally past the 'theory' stage (A/N: I can scrounge up a few "excerpts" from his textbooks if anyone's interested.) and was moving quickly through the five years of magic he knew.

However, like all good things, the relative "normalcy" couldn't last. That Friday night Harry woke, alone and screaming, from another vision-turned-nightmare of dying muggles and Wizards. This one had been particularly bad because, though it had started off as a basic "torture a random muggle" vision, after Voldemort had wished him a goodnight it had turned into a re-run of that summer's highlight.

See, one night in late June, Voldie had paid a visit to a muggle homeless shelter. He told Harry, over the screams, that he would be busy for Harry's birthday and he wanted to deliver an early birthday present.

For Harry's birthday, one hundred and sixty Muggles died through torture or fire. Voldemort had the right arm cut off of every one, even the children, and he laid them out to form the words "Happy Birthday Harry", before incinerating the city block.

No one woke Harry from this dream, he had to do it on his own.

When he emerged, weak and shaking,, from his bedroom at one in the morning, he told his pride and disgust where to shove it and headed for Draco's room. Knocking on the door, he prayed that Draco would put aside any ill feelings and let him in. Harry was terrified of spending the night alone.

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When Draco, after wrestling with himself for a bit, opened his bedroom door, it was to find a sheet-white Harry Potter clutching his bedcovers. Judging by the way said boy was shaking, Draco guessed he'd just had a nightmare.

"Yes?"

Harry gulped.

"Can I… I'm… scared. I don't want to… be alone."

Draco understood perfectly.

"Wanna stay the night?"

Harry swallowed again and nodded.

In all honesty, Draco didn't mind. He'd been having an unpleasant time of it, recently, and worrying about someone else would be a pleasant change.

Wait a moment.

Did he just admit he was worried about the other boy?

Draco shuddered and walled off that part of his brain.

He gestured for Harry to take one side of the bed and conjured up a few more pillows.

With Harry curled up against his back, Draco quickly drifted off into a much more content sort of sleep.

Content.

Draco decided to find out where that came from in the morning.

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Saturday went by rather quickly, what with Quidditch and classes (ADADA and such). Occlumancy that night wasn't much fun, though. The last week or so, when Harry and Draco practiced on each other and things went reasonably, they broke free faster and faster each time. However, if a particularly bad memory surfaced, they would both become "stuck" and would be forced to let the memory play out. Snape, the not-so-black-hearted professor, had begun conjuring beds for when they got stuck and went totally out of commission.

At any rate, Harry had learned a whole lot about Draco's family life. He felt rather sorry for the boy, after all, he at least knew that his parents had loved him. Draco had no such reassurances. He had no reason, whatsoever, to believe his parents thought of him as any more than an heir. Expensive property, but no real worth. Draco, in turn, had seen enough of Harry's visions that, if Draco had harbored ANY loyalties to the Dark Lord before they started, he certainly didn't now.

The vision that night was the one that had prompted Harry's visit to Draco's room earlier that week.

The two of them screamed and writhed and cried for a long while after that one.

As they limped back that night, Harry was in a foul mood, and no wonder! This last lesson had only reminded Harry of the hatred that had been building up inside him since he'd first learned of Voldie and his deatheaters. Obviously, he was going to kill Lord Voldemort or die trying, but those deatheaters weren't mentioned anywhere in the prophecy. As a result, it wasn't guaranteed that Harry would get a chance to fight them. Not that that was going to stop him.

Plus, if he did manage to kill them all, his visions and conscience might be assuaged.

They were almost to their common room when Draco collapsed. Harry caught him before he hit the ground. Draco's face was contorted in pain and his arms were wrapped around his middle.

"What's wrong? What can I do?"

Draco was breathing hard.

"Honestly… Potter… Are you… really that… thick? …It's the bloody… twenty-second… of…October."

Oh.

Draco was coming into his first shape.

"Oh."

Quickly and carefully, Harry hoisted Draco up and draped one of the blond's arms around his own shoulders. With his other arm 'round Draco's waist, Harry supported them both over the threshold and onto a couch.

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A snake. An emerald snake. As the forked tongue flicked in and flicked out, Harry couldn't help but notice just how beautiful the snake was. It was only a foot or so long, but it was colored in such a way as to make it quite intimidating. Most of it's body was green scaled and shone as if each scale were a jewel polished to perfection. I said most of it's body was green because there was a row of silver diamond all the way up it's back leading to it's face, which was entirely silver save for a green ring around each of the silver eyes.

" Nicccce, Draaaco. I'm looovvvving the loook. It ssssuitssss you."

The snake was not amused.

"Ifff your sssso sssmart, do tell me offff my patternning."

Harry grinned.

"Wonderffful shhhhiny green withhhh ssssilver diamondssss. Your facccccce isss alsssso sssilver sssave ffor an emmmrald ring around your eyessssssssss. Assss I sstated befffore, it ssssuits you."

The snake slithered towards Harry.

"Diamondsssss you sssssay. That'sssssss interessssssting. My fffathhher will be mossssst disssspleassssed."

Harry was puzzled.

"Whhhhy would your fffathhher be dissssspleassssed?"

The snake moved onto Harry's hand.

"Becausssssssse, dear Potter, diamondsssssssss ssssstand fffor purity. Thhat I shhhould have thhhhem at alll angersssss my fffathhher, but to possssesss thhhem againssssst emmerald ssssskin, amoung ssssssserpent shhhhhhiftersssss a sssssymbol of goodnesssssss, issss an act worthhhy offf dissssowning."

Harry nodded in understanding, though he found it interesting that silver and green were the Slytherin house colors.

The next few hours were spent rather enjoyably for the boy and the snake; the one describing things to the other and then the other describing what he saw. As the night drew to a close, both boy and snake were feeling quite exhausted. Harry, with the snake's permission, grabbed clothes from Draco's room and a blanket from his own before curling up on the floor. The emerald snake had no problems with wrapping round Harry's neck and chest, and the two drifted off into sleep rather quickly.

You'd think they'd have learned from the last time.

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The following morning, Draco woke to find himself in a very… suggestive position with all of his naked appendages wrapped rather lewdly around Harry's. Quickly moving away, more worried about the Gryffindor waking in that position than seeing what he shouldn't, Draco searched frantically for his clothes. Finding them, he quickly pulled them on before toeing the sleeping lump in the side.

"Wake up you lazy Gryffindor, we've got Quidditch and classes to attend despite it being Saturday morning. You do want to win the cup, don't you?"

"Of course I want to win," the blanket grumbled, "but I never ever said I wanted to get up early on a Saturday to do it."

Draco smirked.

"Check your watch, Potty, it's not exactly early."

Counting slowly, Draco waited.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine-

"Shit!"

Apparently, Harry realized it was past noon.

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After surviving the day, and Occlumancy, Harry was looking forward to a long, undisturbed rest that night. Unfortunately, the nightmares had other plans. And so it was that Harry Potter once more stayed the night in Draco Malfoy's bed (A/N: minds OUT of gutters you pervs).

Sunday dragged on, what with neglected homework and classes, but it was rather interesting. In their history of magical creatures class, they were studying mates of vampires (they'd done shifters the week before). Many legends are constantly floating around about vampires creating other vampires and such, but the truth is surprisingly simple. A vampire usually only 'turns' someone to save that person's life (in a manner of speaking) or, in the case of their mates, to ensure they spend eternity together.

But that's not all. You see, when a vampire turns someone, they have a choice to make. There is such a thing as "half-turned" or a "binding". The deal is, the non-vampire drinks a certain amount of the vampire's blood and it preserves their existence. The one who drank is NOT a vampire, and therefore neither needs nor wants to drink blood, but that person is bound to the vampire. The two of them can sense eachother's emotions and such. In addition, that person cannot die or age while the vampire lives and, should the vampire be killed, that person will suffer instant death. That is usually the method employed to save someone's life. If they disapprove when they wake, they have the option of killing themselves. At least, this way, they will wake.

With thoughts of saving his friends by turning them and having them then commit suicide, his nightmares forced him to seek comfort with Draco again.

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Monday rolled around, the usual classes and such. Harry, sitting next to Ron and Hermione, was beginning to think he was missing things. They were not really talking to him. However, it could be that they were finally starting to realize that they were perfect for each other. Everyone else knew it, but they'd gone swimming, trying not to look at each other, in a certain river in Egypt (and, of course, Harry didn't realize how close to that river he truly was).

That night, Harry had yet another nightmare. This time, Draco sensed it from his room. He got up and headed to Harry's bed.

Harry was writhing around and arching his spine as far backwards as it could possibly go. Obviously, he was in a lot of pain. Hoping to bring him out of it quickly, Draco sprinted to the bathroom and came back with a large container full of ice-cold water. When that didn't work, Draco began to worry. He didn't realize that this wasn't a normal nightmare.

Draco tried everything, shaking, water, loud noises, and bright light, everything he could think of. Eventually he just collapsed, exhausted, next to Harry, who was now whimpering like a kicked dog. With thoughts of What the heck, it can't hurt anything swimming around his head, Draco wrapped his arms around the tortured boy and pulled him close.

Shortly after this, Harry's wordless whimpering turned to screaming again. Draco could only listen in horror and fear to the scene that unfolded from Harry's lips.

"No. Not her… She didn't… she couldn't… it's not her fault… you know it's not her fault… please… no… not again… please… no… It'll break… his heart… no… please! No!"

The screaming started up again and just as quickly stopped. Harry was still writhing in pain, though no longer arching madly, but his voice was different. It wasn't his voice. Draco knew that high, cold voice from those last Occlumancy sessions, though he'd never hear it in person.

"No, Harry, I don't think I will. You see, little boy, she has betrayed me. Not consciously, of course, but she has betrayed me just the same. I punish those that betray me. She needs to be punished."

The screaming started again. Harry wasn't moving. Every muscle was tensed with the pain. It was like holding on to stone. When the whimpering started again, Harry's voice was so hoarse, Draco could make out very few of the words.

"Nuh… I… nnn… shhe… dint… 'im… loved… 'im… not… fault… gunna… her… kill... won't… serve… don't… NO!"

There was more screaming and then Voldemort's voice, for who else could it be, came through.

"Silly boy. Stupid boy. I don't care if it was her fault or not. She made a mistake by not informing me immediately. True, even if she had I would have still tortured her for loosing both of them, but this is the way it works.

"Now, make me a promise, and, possibly, I might not prolong her torture, I might keep her from the rest of my faithful deatheaters. You know what they'll do to her, don't you?"

Harry cried out in his own voice. Draco could only assume that he had been shown a vision of what the deatheaters would do to Voldemort's female prisoner, and Draco, judging by the heart wrenching sobs Harry was currently emitting, wasn't sure he wanted to know. Then the foreign voice returned.

"You know, I find I rather enjoy this. Ah well, you can't have everything I suppose. Are you willing to promise?"

Harry whimpered, but managed to squeak out a faint "yes"

"Good. You will tell them. You will break their little black hearts for me, and I might end her torture a little sooner. Agreed?"

Harry groaned but whispered "yes, yes, anything".

"Perfect. Don't bother trying to break your word, I will know. You know I will. Sleep well Harry, and don't forget."

Harry started screaming again. Every time his voice started to fade into whimpers, the pain increased and he screamed louder. He hugged himself, desperately, and then started to jerk. Still crying out with every jerk, Harry began sobbing again. When he started to cough up blood, Draco knew that he had to have, somehow, sustained a broken rib. Obviously, the prisoner was being violently kicked and Harry could feel her pain as if it were his own.

Draco didn't leave Harry's side until he lost consciousness.

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A/N:

Hello all!

I got a comment last chapter from someone who called themselves (it was an "anonymous" review) ME( ). This person said that my fic is very similar to another and that some of the OC names are the same as well. I haven't read any others like this and wasn't aware that there were other Jeremys or Jesses out there, though, it may just be that I know what's going to happen and you guys don't (Save for Lily), so it seems different to me.

If, however, I'm completely wrong, tell me.

Also, I'd like to make an official apology, I got quite a number of comments on Jesse's speech and I'd like to apologize for it being difficult to read and say that I am aware of the fact that very few people from Texas really talk like that. However, my aunt does. I did NOT mean to either offend anyone OR make a general statement about the population. I was just attempting to use a stereotype to portray a difference and Give Jesse a Personality (If we ever get around to meeting Jeremy, he's got an accent as well). You have to admit that doing that with her words does lend her a bit of character that many other OCs don't get.

I am working on making Jesse's speaking a little more intelligible, though.

Next; I'm sorry it took so long to get this out, I spent most of laast month on NaNoWriMo and didn't have a whole lot of time for anything else. I hardly studied at all (which is terrible as I now have to, somehow, pull up a D in geom.) and I'm sacraficing more study time (two tests and a concert tomorrow) to get this out to you.

On the bright side, I've just recieved two really lovely reviews on the last chapter and am quite cheery.

Please&ThankYou

-Leif

PS: I seem to be sorry a lot in this note. I'm also sorry for how disjointed this chapter was. I REALLY REALLY want to get to the end of this week (in story-time) because I've got something to do I've been waiting for since about the third week after I began my story. I'm really quite nervous about your reactions. :::::starts fiddling with hair; a nervous habit she has yet to break::::::