A/N: And this is chapter four. Thank you again reviewers! Fortunately, this one wasn't quite as hard to write as chapter three. Which is a good thing, because when I can't find the rhythm you can feel in a goodor at least moderately enjoyablestory, I tend to put it off until it comes back again. Okay, so, here's chapter four. Oh yeah, and to make up for how I portray Ron in my other story, I'm going to make him more tolerable in this one. And Hermione won't be so tolerable. And Lavender is obviously unbelievably shallow, because you need a shallow character. You need a bitch, too. No worries, Pansy will be coming soon.

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Chapter Four

"Help me, I'm out of breath again

Nobody knows somewhere to make it go away"

"Phase," Breaking Benjamin

"Potter."

A voice broke into Harry's dreams, making his parents' faces disappear. He gave a murmur of both relief and protest, opening his eyes slowly. Malfoy was leaning over him, his icy gray eyes masking an emotion that Harry couldn't quite decipher. Either that or he knew exactly what it was, but he didn't want to accept that Malfoy could feel that way. He'd been seeing it a lot lately. "What time is it?" Harry asked, sitting up, reaching up to adjust his glasses. It was then that he realized they weren't on his face. "Where are my glasses?" he asked. No wonder everything had been so blurry and unfocused before.

Malfoy reached behind him and gave Harry his glasses. "You were going to bend the frames, so I took them off," he explained, avoiding Harry's eyes. He moved out from under the table and rose to his feet.

"Thanks," Harry said quietly, looking up at Malfoy intently. Why was Malfoy so... he was different.

"Don't mention it," Malfoy replied, straightening his shirt. "It's almost three o'clock," he added when Harry continued to sit on the floor.

Harry moved out from under the table slowly, then began to dress leisurely, occasionally glancing at Malfoy, trying to figure out what, exactly, was different about him. Malfoy was pointedly avoiding conversation and eye contact. It wasn't like they'd had intriguing discussions before; they were either too busy fighting, fucking, or trying to catch their breaths. But it was as if Malfoy was deliberately pulling away from Harry to such an extent that it was almost comical in a twisted way. "You didn't miss anything important today in Charms, did you?" Harry asked, kneeling down on the floor to tie his shoes.

"What's it to you?" Malfoy asked.

"Just wondering," Harry replied, rising to his feet. "Don't want you complaining about missing something important or anything like that." They both stood silently in the library for a few more seconds. "Well, see you around, then," Harry said awkardly.

"Yeah," Malfoy said quietly, then added, "obviously."

Both boys nodded at each other, then left the room one after the other, each splitting up to go to their dorms.

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When Harry woke up late, he was, to say the least, tired. He more or less rolled off the bed, landing on the floor on his hands and knees. And he didn't have the energy to rise to his feet. And he found he didn't really want to. He didn't even know what day it was, let alone what classes he had. How late was it? Had he missed any classes?

"Harry, mate, you're going to miss breakfast," Ron called loudly as he burst into the room.

Nope. Damn. "I'm not really that hungry today, anyway," Harry grumbled, still hunched over on the floor

"What's wrong? Are you sick?" Ron approached Harry cautiously as ifhe had the plague or something.

"No, just... er... finding my shoes."

"They're over here." Ron kicked one of Harry's shoes over to him, his eyebrow raised. "Sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Fine. I'll be down soon." Harry couldn't keep the snappishness out of his tone.

"Okay. See you then." Ron turned and exited the room. Harry could hear him muttering something along the lines of, "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Harry shook his head and sighed. Was he really all right? It was getting harder and harder to resist telling Ron and Hermione exactly how he was feeling. Okay, well, not exactly, because he wasn't even sure what was going on himself. "I need help," he muttered, searching for clothes that were reasonably clean. Not that anyone would really care about what he was wearing; he was the fucking Golden Boy after all. Finding something that didn't look like he'd slept in it, which was hard to do since he'd been falling asleep in his clothes a lot lately, he trudged down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"Harry, are you feeling okay?" Hermione asked as soon as he sat down.

"And good morning to you, too, Hermione," Harry replied calmly, reaching out for whatever was nearest to him.

"You didn't answer my question," Hermione persisted.

"Because Ron probably filled you in on everything already." At this, Ron blushed and looked down at the table.

Hermione frowned. "You've been different lately."

"Maybe I was just different before. Maybe this is the real me," Harry said over a mouthful of food.

"Well, if this is the real you, then I don't like the real you," Hermione shot back, folding her arms against her chest.

"That's too bad," Harry mumbled under his breath.

Both Ron and Hermione leaned forward. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"I said, 'I'm just tired,'" Harry lied.

"Right then," Hermione's tone was doubtful. "I just don't like to see you unhappy."

Nobody did. They didn't want Harry to back out of his destiny. "Thanks," Harry said in a tone that wasn't very gracious. "Let's go. Classes are about to start." He left the table and exited the Great Hall quickly, praying that nobody would ask anymore questions. He'd messed up enough things by asking questions the past couple of nights.

Why had he felt the need to talk to Malfoy the night before? Malfoy's reaction had been one that Harry didn't really like seeing at all. The light had seemed to leave Malfoy's eyes. It wasn't really a light, exactly. It was more like a special kind of life. The potential for life. Malfoy's eyes were like two blocks of ice that could thaw out someday and reveal what was living behind them. And last night, Harry hadn't been able to see that potential. Malfoy's eyes had just been a dull gray.

But why should that bother him? If Malfoy was running away, ending the deal, why should he care? There was no reason. But he cared anyway. It would have helped if he knew why. And he couldn't ask Malfoy or he'd run away for sure. The world was just way too messed up. The only thing that had made any kind of sense had been letting Malfoy help him forget, and helping Malfoy forget as well. And then he'd gone and fucked that up by asking Malfoy stupid questions. Damnit.

And then Harry realized why the look in Malfoy's eyes had scared him so much. Their deal was to be on call to help each other forget. They were both going through... what were they going through? All Harry knew was that before Malfoy had presented him withthe arrangement, he had barely been able to breathe. He had been slowly suffocating.Was that why Malfoy had come to him? He didn't really know what Malfoy needed to forget. Which was part of the deal. How could you help someone forget something by bringing it up all the time? Harry knew he'd wanted to slap Hermione a few times when she'd asked him questions, when she'd made wild assumptions and accusations. What did she think she was anyway? A psychiatrist? A lousy one. And Ron. Ron was just clumsy. Harry wasn't as annoyed with Ron as he was with Hermione. Ron only asked to let Harry know that he was there for him. He never pushed the issue if Harry told him to back off. So Harry wouldn't ask Malfoy about his problems. Maybe he was just being selfish. Well, the deal was selfish, too, but it was a different kind of selfish. The deal was a necessary kind of selfish. Like when you had to go off by yourself in order to think or something like that. Except he wasn't exactly going off to be by himself. Whatever. The point was he needed the deal, but he didn't need to know why Malfoy needed the deal. Or did he? The look in Malfoy's eyes had scared him because it seemed like Malfoy was pulling away from him. But not just that. The way that Malfoy looked the night before... seemed to illustrate how Harry felt. Like Harry's potential for life, the real kind of living, had been drained. Was it back again?

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"Harry, the dungeons are this way." At least Ron had the consideration to whisper it into Harry's ear rather than shout it out so Hermione would pounce on the issue and figuratively, and perhaps literally, back Harry into a corner. Harry shot Ron a half-smile of thanks, and Ron shrugged in a "what else am I here for?" kind of way.

Too bad Harry had Potions; no time to space out. And he could forget about getting out of class. Unless he was dying, he wouldn't be able to leave Potions. And even Snape's letting a student go because of some fatal circumstance was questionable. Someone could accidentally Kedavra someone else and Snape would most likely order everyone back to their seats. Then again, if someone was already dead, what could you do?

Harry sat down next to Ron in Potions, not wanting to put up with Hermione's questioning anymore. People probably thought she was just concerned about him, but she was really just nosy. And bossy.

Malfoy walked into the classroom, and he and Harry looked at each other intently before averting their gazes quickly. Ron had seen the exchange. "You're not going to start a fight or anything, are you?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head. "Oh. Well, if you are, just give me a heads up, okay?" Harry nodded, repressing an eye roll. From the look of things, Crabbe and Goyle were saying, or rather they were acting out, the same thing. Crabbe and Goyle. Could you have names that were any more lackey-sounding? Harry didn't have lackeys. He had overly "supportive" peers who did what they claimed they thought was best for you. Well, at the end of the day, he could talk to someone if he wanted to, and get a reaction, not just a vacant stare.

"It's Friday," Lavender Brown whispered loudly behind them. "Just in time, too. It's been a long week."

"Oh, I know," Parvati Patil said, nodding enthusiastically in agreement. Parvati and Lavender's other friends weren't lackeys. They were sheep. And Lavender was the queen of all sheep. And Lavender was currently eyeing Harry like he was some kind of new item that was "all the rage" that she absolutely "had to have, or she'd die." Joy to the world, halle-bloody-lujah. If she thought Harry was going to even go out on a lousy date with her, then she had another thing coming. Not really realizing what he was doing, Harry glanced across the room at Malfoy. Then looked away before anyone noticed. Good, Lavender and her flock were too busy looking at him to really pay attention to what he was doing. One of them was drooling. Scary. Harry shuddered and stared straight ahead at Snape's desk. He was actually silently urging Snape to get up and make his life a living hell. Harry felt a presence close by, so he turned around slightly, slowly, and noticed that Lavender was leaning over, trying to make her breasts look bigger by pressing her arms close to her sides. Before he could turn away, Lavender smiled in a way she probably thought was seductive and flirtatious, and asked, "Do you like my new perfume, Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked.

Lavender's sheep giggled, and he heard one of them say, "How cute is that?"

"Here," Lavender somehow managed to lean even closer to Harry, her face inches away from his, without falling over the table. "Can you smell it now?"

"Yeah," Harry said weakly, trying with all his might not to cough. What, had she bathed in it? Lavender winked, then returned to her seat.

Ron leaned over so he could whisper into Harry's ear. "I think she used the whole damn bottle."

Harry nodded, grinning slightly. "It's a good thing you like it so much," he murmured, "because by morning tomorrow, at the latest, every single girl that worships her is going to be wearing the same damn stuff."

Ron gagged. "Oh shit, you're right. I'm praying for a stuffed up nose tonight." He caught a whiff of Lavender's perfume and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "A really stuffed up nose."

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"Oh, perfect," Harry cursed under his breath, looking at the mess he'd made on the floor. He bent down and started picking up everything he'd dropped in his hurry to get out of Potions. When his friends began to help, he motioned for them to stop. "No, go ahead. I'll catch up."

Ron, being the non-pushy kind of guy he was, nodded and grabbed Hermione's arm before she could say anything. "Hurry up, mate. Not that Professor Sprout will really care or anything." He left the classroom, practically forcing Hermione to go with him.

"I suggest you hurry, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, sitting down in the chair behind his desk.

Harry nodded, then hurried out of the room. And of course he ran smack into Malfoy.

"Oh, good," Malfoy said, regaining his balance and straightening his robes. "How about the supply closet? I know it's a major cliche and all..."

"Not a good time right now," Harry interrupted, adjusting his glasses.

"What?" Malfoy asked, disbelief in his tone.

"Later, okay? I'm tired, I'm behind in nearly all of my classes, my friends won't shut up... we'll meet up later. Promise. Bye." Harry more or less sprinted down the hall. And now Malfoy would probably be pissed off. And not the good kind of pissed off that allowed them to have angry sex. No, he'd be so pissed off they wouldn't be having any sex at all. At least not today. Great, instead of asking questions, Harry'd just made Malfoy feel desperate or something. And you just didn't do that to a Malfoy. That is, if you wanted to be fucked by one. It should have been one of the Commandments; thou shalt not piss off a Malfoy and hope to have sex. Then again, what did God know about sex? Well, he did knock up the Virgin Mary. And then Jesus had come and spoken the damned Truth. Fuck him. Fuck Mary. Fuck God.

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"Um, Harry? Are you okay?" Neville asked, appearing out of nowhere.

"Fine," Harry barked. When Neville jumped, Harry mentally smacked himself. "Just thinking, Nev. Sorry."

Neville gulped. "O-okay. What were you thinking... nevermind."

Harry was so convinced that Malfoy wouldn't even be looking at him for the next couple of days or so that he choked on his pumpkin juice and nearly fell out of his seat in the Great Hall whenthe white-blondemotioned for him to meet him as soon as dinner was over. Then again, when had Malfoy ever really been predictable? Harry had thought he had Malfoy figured out by the time sixth year was over, and then he'd come up and more or less said, "Let's have sex. And lots of it." Malfoy finished eating, stood up, yawned and stretched, and made sure his hand was pointing in the direction of the secret room they'd found while they were... well, Malfoy often got enthusiastic and slammed Harry up against stuff when they were caught up in the heat of the moment.

Harry nodded, forcing himself to remain seated and calmly sip at what was left of his pumpkin juice; when he'd choked on it, he'd more or less sloshed most of what was in the cup all over everyone around him. One of those people had been, surprise, Lavender, and she'd gone on about how she couldn't believe he'd done such a thing to her brand new skirt, but it was okay because she knew he hadn't meant to, and she shouldn't have been so stupid as to wear something as expensive as that to dinner in the first place. After at least ten minutes had crept by, Harry exited the Great Hall, telling Ron he was going to talk to one of the professors about a homework assignment. He made sure not to tell specifically which professor he was going to see; Hermione would probably try to find him. But if she didn't, she'd probably ask him about it later. So he'd actually go and see someone after he saw Malfoy. Now that he thought about it, Harry found it amazing that nobody had found out about what hehehad beendoing with his time yet.

Harry approached one of the suits of armor that lined the hallways, checked to see if anyone was around, then pulled down on the ax that the suit was holding. The wall of stone to the left of the armor opened up like the bricks at the entrance to Diagon Alley, revealing a small room that had probably once been used as some kind of hideout for when the castle was under attack or something like that. Not that you'd be able to fit any more than fifteen people or so. And even then that would be rather uncomfortable.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall, his arms folded against his chest. "Took you a long time."

"Well, you didn't want me following on your heels, did you?" Harry asked. Usually, Malfoy was annoyed with Harry when he waited any less than fifteen minutes. He'd waited five the night before, and that was cutting it pretty close. But he'd taken forever to get to the library, so...

"Oh, just don't start." Malfoy pushed away from the wall, his arms still crossed. They were both silent for awhile. Malfoy stared down at the stone floor, and Harry looked at everything except Malfoy. Suddenly, Malfoy asked, "Are you okay?"

"What?" Harry half-asked, half-yelped.

"Are you okay?" Malfoy repeated slowly.

"Umphrn," Harry replied intelligently. Yep. Brilliant.

"You're fine? Yeah, right. Cut the crap, Potter." Malfoy let his arms fall to his sides and moved closer to Harry. "What's wrong?"

Harry backed away, his expression a combination of "what the hell is this?" in a puzzled way, "what the hell is this?" in a startled way, and "what the hell is this?" in a defensive way. "Huh?"

"You're more fucked up in the head than usual. Something's bothering you."

"What makes you think that?" Harry found he'd backed up against the wall. Funny how he'd thought Hermione would be the one to do this to him, and instead it was Malfoy. Then again, he'd thought he would be fucking someone other than Malfoy as well.

Malfoy continued to move closer to him. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, people have been noticing things for awhile now. However, the big give away was your not wanting to have sex. And your excuses were pathetic. Since when has being behind in your classes ever stopped you before?"

"And why the hell do you care?" Harry snapped. It wasn't that he was angry about being cornered yet again. Okay, so maybe it was, but just a little bit. It was more that Malfoy was asking him. Why the hell would Malfoy even care? And Malfoy thought he was the one fucked up in the head. Okay, so he was. But so was Malfoy.

And of course, Harry had said the wrong thing yet again, because Malfoy stepped back, both physically and mentally withdrawing from the subject. "Nevermind. Your insanity is rubbing off on me."

"My insanity," Harry said slowly in a low monotone. "Right." He turned around and left the room, not bothering to look back at Malfoy. If Malfoy wanted to bring up Harry's issues, then he had better damn well be able to talk about his own as well.

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Harry stormed into the common room, a scowl planted on his face. Several first years cowered in a corner as if he were Voldemort. Okay, maybe not Voldemort, but they were pretty scared just the same. "Fuck you, Malfoy," he cursed under his breath, clenching his fists tightly. He stood still in front of the fireplace, watching the flames leap and dance to some rhythm only they could follow.

So Malfoy wanted to be an ass. Fine. Harry could live with that. After all, he'd had to since day one of Hogwarts. Before that, if he thought about that day in the robes shop. Damn him. Well, ifhe was going to be such a prick, thenhe wasn't going to have any kind of sex with him. What, did that mean he'd have to wait until Malfoy came around? No, the deal said clearly enough that they could see other people. No pressure. Harry wasn't going to deprive himself. Someone from Hufflepuff was out of the question; even if he managed to somehow convince one of them to have sex with him, they'd want some kind of relationship afterward. Slytherin was a last resort; Blaise Zabini wasn't that bad, but he was in the same room as Malfoy. Not that he cared. Ravenclaw was a maybe; you just never knew with them. And, of course, he couldn't just grab someone from Gryffindor and start fucking them. Unless they were drunk. But if just started pouring alcohol down somebody's throat, they might get suspicious. Or freaked out. Harry sighed. He wouldn't be having sex until after the weekend at least. Then again, it was a Hogsmeade weekend. Maybe he could ask someone in Gryffindor out on a date, fill them up with butterbeer, then bring them back to the dorms and have at it. But it would have to be a girl; he couldn't risk hitting on a guy and scaring him out of his wits.

Was he really even considering this? Was he honestly thinking about having a one night stand with a girl from his own house? Yes, he was. And was he going to do it? Abso-fucking-lutely.

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Harry tapped on the door to the seventh year girls' dorm tentatively, praying Hermione didn't answer the door. That Hermione wasn't even there at all. He wanted to both sigh with relief and run away screaming when Lavender answered the door. "Hey, Harry," she beamed, leaning against the door casually.

"Um, hi," Harry said awkwardly, scratching his head. Spend one year fucking a guy and you forget how to talk to a girl. Not that he ever knew how to in the first place. But his chances of finding out had flown out the window when Malfoy had first pulled him into Snape's supply closet. He had to stop thinking about Malfoy. "Are you busy?" he asked.

"No, no. Um, do you want to come in or something?" Lavender stepped away from the doorway invitingly.

"Sure." Just get it over with already.

"Did you come to talk to Hermione?" Lavender sat down on the third bed away from the door.

"No," Harry replied, studying the room. It was different from the boys' dorm in the sense that it was, for the most part, tidier, and decorated with girlish stuff. And there was makeup. Well, okay, Seamus had used eyeliner that one time, but ithad beenHalloween. Then you had to wonder why he had had it in the first place. Maybe Harry could have asked Seamus... no, too late to back down now.

"What did you want then?" Lavender asked, crossing her legs and twirling her hair around her index finger.

As if she didn't know. "Well, I actually came to ask you something," Harry said, making sure he sounded shy. If he sounded like he knew what he was doing, then Lavender wouldn't trust him at all. Probably.

Lavender laughed in a way she most likely thought was grown up and sophisticated. "What did you want to ask me, Harry?"

Just ask. It won't kill you. "I was wondering if you'd like to... um... that is..."

"Yes?" Lavender was leaning forward now, trying to hide the anxious look on her face. Unsuccessfully, obviously, if Harry could tell she was trying to hide it.

Just do it. Do it. Ask her, damnit! "Do you want to go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Harry asked, immediately wishing he'd just turned around and fled.

"Oh, Harry, I'd love to!" Lavender squealed, leaping up from the bed and hugging him. Then she remembered she was supposed to be sophisticated. She let go of Harry, who had temporarily been unable to breathe due to Lavender's squeezing him like a damned boa constrictor, and adjusted his glasses, then his sweater. "Meet me in the common room at eight, then we'll walk down to the Great Hall and eat breakfast together. Oh, Harry, we're going to have so much fun tomorrow! We'll hit all the shops, and we'll definitely have to get you some new clothes because that ensemble is great and all, but..."

Harry forced Lavender's squeaky, perky voice out of his head. What the hell had he gotten himself into? What kind of sex was worth this?

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Harry left the girls' dorm an hour later, feeling dazed and scared out of his wits. Hogsmeade with Lavender equaled a slow, painful death. And what if he couldn't get her to have sex with him? He'd have nothing. Nothing but plans with her up until he was twenty-five.Or older.Seriously. You asked the girl to go to Hogsmeade with you and she instantly started planning your future. With her. Well, he'd wait until tomorrow and see if he'd get any, and if he realized he wouldn't, he'd dump her. Sure, she'd hate him. But that was better than being stuck with a girl that believed she was already married to him. Gah. Harry shivered and jumped around, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind of all things Lavender.

Of course Ron had to see him. "Harry?"

"Um... just trying to relax," Harry coughed. Yeah, like he could. He hadn't had sex since the day before and now he was going out with a crazy bitch.

"Oh, right. Were you up there?" Ron pointed at the girls' dorm. For some reason, the other guys in Harry's dorm thought that whoever went "up there" was a god.

"Yeah," Harry replied, wishing with all his might he could go back in time and undo everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. Okay, days. None of this would have happened if he hadn't started asking questions. Right?

"What for?" Ron asked. He looked like he was going to burst if he didn't get any details about what was "up there."

Merlin. "I asked Lavender if she'd go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Harry muttered, not looking at Ron.

"You what? Why?" Ron had gone pale. "That is, er... I'm sure you two'll have a good time."

Yeah. Right. "Sure we will." Why did he suddenly feel like crying?

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

"Want me to be there with you?"

"Hell, yes. That is, until I tell you to leave."

"Tell me to leave? Why would you... oh. Right. Okay, so we need some kind of signal then, right?"

"Yeah. Sure." Signal?

"Just go like this." Ron ran his hand through his hair in an absurd way.

"How about I just cough or something?"

"Isn't that too obvious?"

"Oh, for the love of... look, I don't know what the 'signal' is going to be, but you'll damn well know what it is when I give it to you."

"Whoa, no need to get snappish. Then again, you did just get yourself stuck with Lavender Brown. Has she planned the wedding yet? Picked out your house? Decided how many kids you're going to have?"

"Shut up!" Harry clamped his hands over his ears. "Please, if there's any humanity in you whatsoever you will not mention anything about this anymore."

Ron laughed. "Okay. I won't. Promise."

"Good. I'm going to bed early."

Harry more or less crawled into bed, feeling just as drained as he had that morning. If there was anything that resembled a god out there, nobody else, especially a certain blonde-haired Slytherin, would find out about this.

Apparently there wasn't a god, or he was out on holiday, because within a half an hour the entire student population knew. Including the certain blonde-haired Slytherin, and he was not happy, to say the least.

A/N: Sort of like a cliffhanger right there, huh? If you noticed, I made this chapter longer than all of the previous chapters to make up for the extreme shortness of the last one. Next chapter will include: a frightened Crabbe, a terrified Goyle, an amused and confused (semi-rhyme right there...) Blaise, and a jealous Draco. And there might be some damaged property. You know, like furniture or something like that. Oh yeah, and I've decided to eventually try a crossover. I know lots of people are bored with the Hermione/Ron thing, so I'm going to bring in Willow Rosenburg from "Buffy The Vampire Slayer," and she'll be with Ron (this Willow is, of course, the Willow we knew before she met Tara. Or Kennedy... ahem. Just think Oz. But don't. Because Willow's not with Oz anymore. She's with Ron. Soon). Farewell for now! And review! Please?