Chapter 23: Amicitia

Disclaimer: Any lawyer who can actually be arsed to sue me for not writing a disclaimer seriously needs to get a life and a hobby. In case any really boring lawyers with nothing better to do come along: I don't own Harry Potter and the rest of his merry world. JK Rowling does.

Thanks for 743 reviews goes to: liar, samhaincay, Go10, DeLavy, Storm079 (x2), Orchid6297, kessi1011, relena33, Saraiyu, Flexi Lexi, PINSXandXSPIKES, whacked, RedCinders, RedWitch1, KrystyWroth, Sutenayi, Vfoxy713, nikethana, tennisplaya278, Madam Midnight, crzyforlegolas, celesta13579, CozzaGirl16, mesmer, Angela, Raiast, Lady Russell Holmes, jules37, Alexi Lupin, Saotoshi, draconas,

A/N: Thanks for all the positive reviews! I know I shouldn't let people like that annoy me, but it was a complaint a few people had mentioned and I just wanted to make absolutely clear what my viewpoint on the speed of this story was. And thanks loads to everyone who said they liked the slower pace! It made me feel tons better.

And yes, I do agree that it's a shame I spent half my A/N talking about a negative review while I never get to thank people individually for positive reviews. The simple problem is that I don't have the space to give individual feedback. Take the previous chapter alone; there were 43 reviews on that, and if I wrote just a few sentences to each reviewer I'd end up with an A/N as long as the chapter! I would like to find some better way of showing my appreciation to all my wonderful reviewers that doesn't result in a massive A/N… does anyone have any ideas?

On a more negative note (well, a positive one for me!) I'm on holiday next week, boating on the Norfolk Broads. And boats are infamous for their lack of Internet access, you know, so… no chapter next week. Sorry!

However, the boating holiday won't be a complete waste when it comes to writing, because after the week's holiday comes the long, long days spent loafing around at home, and with those comes more time for writing, and with more time for writing comes… A new fanfiction. I'm going to be finalising the plot details on the boat (all my Harry Potter books are already packed!) and starting to write it soon after. Uploading schedule is yet to be decided, but it will be written in addition to Fallen (i.e. Fallen will continue to update as normal.)

I'll tell you a little bit about the story to whet your appetite. Inspiration came partly from Journals, because one of the things I liked and was most proud of about that fic was that I'd taken two clichés that are often dreadful, hated and badly-written (Draco self harming and Draco and Hermione being Head Boy and Girl), made them more realistic, more interesting, in-character and properly written, and come out with something I, and my reviewers, actually really enjoyed. So I'm doing that again.

The cliché in question is one I'm sure you've all come across at some point: the one where Hogwarts puts on a production of Romeo and Juliet, Draco and Hermione land the lead roles, and they fall in love by Scene Two. Know the ones I mean? Now remember that this is cyropi writing, so trust me. Replace Romeo and Juliet with Macbeth, make the characters and their relationship more realistic (no falling in love by scene two!), give the play a greater role in the story than that of an excuse to make the two spend time together. Add magic, swords and black linen shirts, a little too much typecasting for comfort, lighting, Death Eaters, guilt, NEWT level Muggle Studies, and the choice between good and evil…

… and that should give you some idea of what to expect.

Don't worry; I promise it'll be a good one. Now that I've described it, I'll let you go on to the latest chapter of Fallen: enjoy!

Never refuse any advance of friendship, for if nine out of ten bring you nothing, one alone may repay you.

Madame de Tencin

Hermione left the library smiling that evening, feeling much like she did when she got full marks on a particularly difficult piece of work. Draco wasn't exactly a project or an essay, and she wasn't being marked on how well she helped him, but…

He'd been smiling. And he said he thought he understood trust now. And he might be her friend, except he didn't know what that felt like yet.

Hermione felt a surge of determination to help him understand friendship completely.

She made her way back to the Gryffindor tower, her feet following the familiar passageways and corridors automatically while she thought about Draco. He'd changed a lot, of course – that was to be expected. After all, he'd told her that his personality before had all been an act with what sounded, to Hermione, like little more than a robot underneath. Though of course, Draco hadn't used that metaphor, not knowing much about Muggle technology.

The Draco she was coming to know, therefore, was pretty much a completely new individual, his personality only just starting to manifest itself among what must be a confusing tangle of emotions. Some traits were the same. He retained a kind of sharpness, which showed itself most clearly when he was annoyed, making him quick to snap a biting comment at someone. 'If I knew what that felt like I wouldn't be here, would I?' She could imagine him saying that.

He'd become annoyed quite often at first, back at the Order – she remembered being afraid of him. But nowadays when they met in the library it was limited to a few sparks of frustration flashing in his eyes.

Other things: he kept that imperious air she'd seen around him when he ordered Crabbe and Goyle around, or acted as the head of his little court of Slytherins. He was an outcast to them now, but still sometimes he'd give her an order or command as though she were a house elf. Hermione didn't think he meant it; it was part of what he did, and she had more important things then manners to help him with.

But there were new things too. The old Draco, the acted Draco, would never have leant his head upon is arm and asked 'Are you my friend?' with an almost childlike innocence upon his face. Had he even known he seemed so like a child when he asked that? Of course, in the realm of emotion he was a child – a two-month-old child, to be precise – but still…

The old Draco would never have smiled at her, or gone along with her Trust game idea, or even accepted her offer of help. The new Draco – the real Draco – had.

Hermione was quite glad that this new Draco was a lot better than the old one.

She didn't realise that she's reached the Fat Lady until the familiar picture cut into her thoughts with, 'My, you look pensive. Is something wrong?'

'No, no,' Hermione assured the picture, 'something's getting a lot better, actually…'

'Good,' the portrait beamed. 'If you'd been two minutes sooner you'd have run into, what's her name, your friend, that redheaded little thing…'

'Ginny?' asked Hermione.

'Yes, that's her,' nodded the Fat Lady with a wide smile. 'I'm terrible with names… anyway, she just left two minutes ago with her boyfriend,' she added with a giggle, and Hermione smiled, able to picture exactly how Ron would react to that.

'Anyway, the picture continued, 'You'll be wanting to get in, yes? Your two friends are in there, such nice boys…'

Hermione nodded. 'Amicitia,' she said, and the picture frame obligingly swung open.

Ron and Harry were in there, as the Fat Lady had said, and she quickly spotted them sitting together in a corner by the fireplace. Ron was leaning forward in earnest, his elbows resting on his knees, while Harry was frowning as he leant back into the pillows of his sofa, his knees drawn up to his chest with his feet curled around the edge of the seat. From this alone she could tell that they were talking about something important, and Hermione was quickly able to guess what that was.

Harry hadn't come back to breakfast after his talk with Dumbledore that morning, and she hadn't had any lessons with him, but she'd found him in the Great Hall at lunchtime and asked what Dumbledore had wanted. He'd glanced quickly up and down the table before saying, 'Remedial Potions,' in a quiet voice. Which was as good as a code word for Occlumency.

He'd been unusually quiet throughout the meal. Hermione had pointed out that really, 'taking Remedial Potions' was all for the best, but Harry had either just ignored her or said that he knew, that was why he'd agreed to take it.

'Is it because of Snape?' Hermione had asked, and Harry had simply nodded.

He had a good reason, Hermione thought as she made her way around the tables and sofas to the corner where Ron and Harry were sat. Snape had always disliked Harry, right from their first ever Potions lesson. He'd been especially bitter that afternoon, taking every opportunity to make some sarcastic comment or cold remark. He'd taken ten points from Gryffindor because Harry had, in Snape's opinion, chopped his shrivelfig too coarsely. Hermione had been watching. If they were larger than the perfect size, it was by no more than a millimetre or two, and Harry's Resolution Potion turned out right anyway.

'-that greasy prat,' Ron was saying. 'I'd hate to let him inside my head… oh, hi, Hermione. Didn't see you come in.'

'Well, you looked pretty engrossed in conversation to me,' Hermione replied with a smile, taking a seat on the sofa beside Harry. 'And Harry's not going to be letting Snape inside his head, are you? You're going to be trying to block him.'

Harry gave a short nod and looked at the arm of the sofa.

'You're meant to try and relax your mind,' Hermione went on, trying to be helpful. I think Lavender's got a book with relaxation techniques in it in our dorm, I could ask to borrow it for you…'

He shook his head. 'I can't relax.'

'Why not?' Ron asked. 'I mean-'

Harry interrupted. 'Because Snape hates me with a passion, and he's about to take a poke around my memories, which really aren't winning any prizes for sweetness and light. Why do you think I can't relax?'

There was a small pause in which Ron fidgeted and Hermione bit her lip.

'Harry,' Hermione began at last, her tone placating, 'that's exactly why you should try to relax, you see? You won't be able to block him if you're tense, and then it'll just end up being worse… I'll go ask Lavender for that book,' she finished, getting up to go, but Harry caught hold of her sleeve.

'Don't,' he said, and Hermione was struck by the expression on his face; the same one that she'd seen on Draco's not an hour ago when he'd asked are you my friend? The same sudden impression of being childlike, and oddly frail, as though she could shatter him with a misplaced word, an erroneous action, and see him crumble to dust and shadows at her feet.

There were differences; Harry's eyes were desperate, pleading, while Draco's had held very little entreaty, if any – had Draco known what he wanted? And Harry's look was more intense, darker. It was still childlike, still fragile, but vivid as well, as though the child he resembled had lost its innocence somewhere among blood and shadows and screaming, and come out forever marred.

Wordlessly, Hermione sat down, and Harry let go of her sleeve.

'Harry…' Ron began, frowning, but the green-eyed boy just curled himself tighter on the sofa, not looking at either of his friends.

'I don't want to talk about this any more,' Harry said wearily. 'Could we please talk about something else?'

The first thing that came to Hermione's mind was, naturally, Draco, and with him a whole host of topics, but an instant after she thought of them, Hermione remembered that she couldn't talk to Harry or Ron about that. They knew nothing of her meetings with the Slytherin – she'd told them she was just going to the library, a perfectly acceptable excuse to the boys. And they didn't know about Draco being half-Fallen, or about Lucius spying on him, or anything like that…

'When are Quidditch tryouts?' asked Ron, returning to a safe, dependable topic. 'Next week?'

Harry merely nodded, seeming distracted.

'Good thing we've got you back as Seeker, mate. And Ginny's trying out for Chaser… you've seen her fly, what do you think of her chances?'

Harry appeared to consider this, and Hermione was glad to see that he was returning to normal. Still… something felt wrong, as though she'd been listening to a familiar tune being played and someone had struck a wrong note, letting it linger in the air, vibrating across her skin.

She'd never had a secret like this from Ron and Harry before. Excepting the occasional argument or fight, they'd been together through everything, ever since that troll had stumbled into the bathroom and the boys had come racing in after it. The Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk in the Chamber, Sirius and Buckbeak and the Shrieking Shack, the Triwizard Tournament, the fateful events at the Department of Mysteries… they'd always been a team. They'd always worked together.

Now there was something she couldn't tell them, because it wasn't her secret to tell. It was Draco's secret, and she wasn't about to share it with anyone. It was, after all, a rather large secret. And he trusted her, didn't he? She remembered how glad she'd been when he'd tipped himself backwards to fall into her arms. He'd been surprisingly light, now she thought about it – his build was slender, but he wasn't scrawny, definitely not thin enough to weigh as little as he had done…

'Hufflepuff are weakest on offensive play,' Harry was telling Ron, 'but you can't dismiss them so easily, their defensive strategies are amazing…'

At least Harry was back to normal. Hermione regretted being unable to tell them about Draco, but she wasn't going to break his confidence in her. She couldn't tell them that he was half-Fallen, and she couldn't tell them about the spy without revealing that she was meeting with him – and then the boys would be suspicious. They appeared to regard him rather like they did Snape – they accepted he was on Dumbledore's side and was therefore 'good', but they still distrusted and disliked him.

The portrait hole slammed open with a loud band and a shout of annoyance from the Fat Lady, and an enraged Ginny stormed into the common room, her hair dishevelled and flying around her face. Conversations faltered as people turned to see what the noise was, and saw the furious redhead, her robes swishing dramatically around her feet as she walked, trailed by a rather timid Dean Thomas.

Ron got to his feet as Ginny approached, fraternal worry etched into his face. 'Are you okay?' he asked, as the Gryffindors around them began to pick up the threads of their conversations. A sudden thought struck Ron, and he glanced suspiciously at Dean. 'He didn't…?'

Ron's over-protectiveness, as annoying as it could be, seemed to be just the kind of familiar, endearing occurrence to defuse Ginny's anger. She snorted, throwing a smile at Dean. 'He didn't do anything I didn't want him to,' she said with a wink, causing Dean to go red and Ron to look very scared.

'Ginny, please don't tell me…'

Dean held up his hands. 'Kissing, that's all, I swear…' he said, and slipped into the seat next to Harry, glaring at his girlfriend. 'Embarrassing wretch.'

She smiled cheekily back, and she and Ron sat down together. 'So what happened?' Hermione asked. 'You seemed ready to spit fireballs when you came in…'

A frown returned to Ginny's face. 'Snape caught us,' she said, nodding at Dean, and Ron choked. 'Then we both got detentions. On separate nights…'

'It was embarrassing,' Dean added; he was going red at just the memory. 'You've seen him being sarcastic in class, that's nothing compared to what he's like if he finds you… er…' He trailed off with a glance at Ron.

'Kissing in an empty classroom,' Ginny supplied cheerfully, grinning when Ron turned an odd shade of purple. But then her face darkened with a frown, and she curled her feet up onto the sofa. 'And then it got worse…'

'What?' Hermione asked, almost laughing. 'Worse than being caught kissing by Snape?'

Ginny's face remained serious. 'I mean it. On the way back here we found some Slytherins taunting one of the Muggleborn Hufflepuffs...'

A silence fell over the group; a silence that was in dark counterpoint to the bright and friendly chatter of the Gryffindors surrounding them.

'Ginny just went mental,' Dean said in an awe-filled voice. 'Never seen her like that…'

Hermione sighed. 'Well, I can't say I didn't expect it. You've seen the Daily Prophet lately; the Slytherins are just the first to start showing it…'

'Remember the days when the only person who called people a Mudblood was Malfoy?' Harry asked, almost nostalgically. 'I'd rather have him being horrible to us again and no one else being prejudiced then this.

There was a general murmur of assent around the group. Hermione was not very surprised to find that she didn't agree.

'Cela usque ad animi motus.'

The two pieces of parchment shimmered for a moment beneath Draco's wand, seeming to turn to translucent liquid, run together, and solidify again. He cast his eyes over the false letter, signed with a flourishing Delphine.

He picked up the letter to test it. For an instant, nothing happened… and just as he began to fear that he hadn't done the spell right, the parchment morphed into his original letter.

Draco had written a long description of everything he could think of to describe, including the things he'd talked about with Hermione only an hour ago. Writing them down had felt strangely good, and it'd helped him think about the confusing emotions too. Trust is when you don't know for sure that someone will catch you when you fall, but you let yourself fall anyway, he'd written, to see if his mother would agree with his definition, and a long paragraph on friendship had followed.

I'm still not sure about friendship. It seems to be a complicated mixture of things, as far as I can make it out. Hermione said it was caring about people, and sharing experiences with them, and other things like trust and loyalty and, but I know it's more complicated than that. The other night I was sitting in the Slytherin common room, watching groups of friends talking and trying to work out how it all fits together. It doesn't seem to be anything I can see or hear or puzzle out. Will I have to wait until I feel it for myself? And if so, how will I know when I come across it?

You said you loved me, but I don't understand that either. There's so much I don't understand.

Folding his letter in half, he crossed the empty Slytherin dormitory to the window, where Raphael was waiting to take his letter back to the Manor. He smiled at the owl as she affectionately nipped the back of his hand, then tied the letter to her leg – it returned to the false letter as soon as it left his hands - and sent her flying.

The Slytherin common room was actually beneath the lake, but the dormitories had magical windows to let fresh air and sunlight in. A changing view was provided by similar spells to those that caused the ceiling of the Great Hall to mimic the outside sky, and something in the same vein as a Portkey allowed all owls flying through the windows to emerge safely above ground. In Draco's first year, Goyle had jumped through one of the windows on a dare, and come out five feet above the ground in a secluded part of he school lawns.

He watched Raphael flying away, then turned and headed for the door to the common room, pushing it lightly open with one touch of a graceful hand. The empty dormitory was peaceful and quiet, but something in him was making him want to be around people, even if he would be treated as little more than a shadow. And besides, he could watch people, see if he could figure out that elusive bond that defined friendship.

The Slytherin common room was quiet, as usual. Conversations were held in soft voices, all words weighed carefully. At the top of the hierarchy, the merest alteration in tone or phrasing could change the meaning of a sentence completely; their dealings could be like a game of chess played with subtleties and subtexts. At the other end, the neutrals and the outcasts, conversation was free and easy, closeted away in one dark corner of the common room. These were the people who were properly friends; so he sat down a little way from them and watched.

Ellen seemed to be a definite part of their group now, sitting amongst them in the common room and at mealtimes, chattering and laughing with them. Was she friends with them? Draco wondered what possible motivation they could have for accepting her - it would only damage their own reputations further and could bring them into danger. There was no logical reason why, unless they were planning to manipulate her and use her to their own benefit, so Draco concluded it must be an emotional reason. Compassion? Did they pity her, want to help her? It was possible.

Ellen glanced up, noticing Draco's scrutiny, and she smiled widely when she realised he was looking at her. She turned to her group, said something, nodded to someone's reply, then turned and hurried over to Draco.

He hadn't been expecting that, and would have been worried what the other Slytherins would think before he remembered that he couldn't easily sink any lower in their esteem.

'Hi Draco,' beamed the Muggleborn, sitting down beside him 'how are you? You definitely look happy…'

'I do?' he asked, wondering what on earth he was going to reply. He didn't know how he was. 'I'm… fine. Is there a reason you came over here, or is this just a random social call?'

'You were staring at me,' she reminded him, twisting a piece of her hair between her fingers. 'And, well, you did help me out with those third-years, so I thought I should help you.'

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. 'And precisely what can you help me with? We've been through this before.'

'And I answered you before. You don't have any friends.' Ellen said simply.

It was true, but not for the reasons she thought. He had no friends because he didn't know how to have them. Hermione was friends with him, but he wasn't friends with her, simply because he didn't understand friendship yet.

'And why would I want to be friends with a scrawny first year anyway?' he asked, drawling, reassuming something of his old role again to defend himself against the situation he didn't know, as a human, how to deal with.

Ellen laughed. 'I'm not scrawny!' she protested. 'I'm not even that thin. And you want to be friends with me because you don't have anyone else, and everyone needs a friend. Someone to help them, someone to talk to…'

Draco frowned. 'Why do you want to be my friend?'

She met his eyes then, and Draco, trained at reading people, could see the stark honesty in her pale blue eyes. 'Because I'm really grateful to you for stopping those third-years,' she said. 'Because you need someone and I want to help you. And I guess I'm hoping you might protect me again. I need as many people as I can…'

She'd suggested this before, and he'd refused. Things were different now. He'd probably end up helping her out of compassion, so he might as well get something out of it, Draco reasoned. It might help him understand friendship. And perhaps one of those emotions, formless and vague as a wisp as smoke but powerful as a thunderstorm, made him want to accept.

'Maybe,' Draco said, and got casually to his feet. 'I'll think about it.'

'Where are you going?' Ellen called after him as he strode towards the common room's exit.

'For a walk.'

He hadn't known why he wanted a walk, just that he wanted one. Perhaps the impulse was to get away from Ellen and her questions, or to get away from the crowded common room, or just to be on his own for a while, uninterrupted while he sorted his thoughts into order.

If it was this he was seeking, he would be disappointed; he hadn't walked more than a few metres in solitude before he rounded a corner and almost bumped into someone.

'Sorry… er, Professor,' he said, recognising the man as that year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

'It was as much my fault as yours,' the man said simply, 'should have been watching where I was going…' He looked at Draco properly, and frowned. 'Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?'

Draco simply nodded. 'Draco Malfoy,' he clarified.

'Professor Delaney,' the man replied with a frown, his dark brown eyes thoughtful. 'I heard from Dumbledore about your recent change of… affiliation. I assume your housemates are not best pleased?'

Draco lied, perhaps by instinct, perhaps by some ingrained habit that he'd learned as a Fallen: never trust someone you don't know with information. 'Affiliation is not that important,' he said. 'Some will be displeased, but for the most part no one really cares…'

Delaney cut him off with a wry half-smile. 'I was a Slytherin myself; I know how the system works,' he said simply. 'There are people of all affiliations, but the ones affiliated with the Dark Lord are in control, while those with other affiliations hide in the shadows.'

Caught out, Draco paused for a moment, surveying the other man's expression: set into a politely questioning expression with a hint of something like concern in the eyes, and something else beyond that… 'Perhaps hiding in the shadows suits me,' Draco said, his tone guarded. 'Being in the good graces of the Slytherins isn't everything, Professor.'

A thoughtful, preoccupied look came over Delaney's face, and for a moment, in the darkness of the dungeon, Draco could have sworn that the man's irises had merged with the pupil, the same dark tone and colour, and it made something coil up inside him, cold as frost on glass, and whisper to his heart in words the texture of the night.

'Just remember, if you ever need any help, Draco, my door is not only open to students of Defence,' said Delaney, before parting with a nod and stalking past him, down the corridors into darkness with his robes swirling over the stones.

Frowning, Draco watched him leave.

A/N: And I'm not saying anything… except I'm very much looking forward to your reviews!

Amicitia, the title of this chapter and also the Gryffindor password, is an interesting word in Latin. It can mean 'friendship' or 'alliance', or any shade of grey in between. I found it suitable because of the nature of Draco and Hermione's relationship; they definitely have an alliance with regards to Hermione helping Draco, and they have some shade of friendship, though until Draco can get his head round friendship things are a little blurry. It also works for Draco and Ellen; she's proposing an alliance which involves her offering her friendship. The lines are blurred already… And there's other friendship/alliances all over the place, of course.

Speaking of friendship, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Lucy. She's been an amazing friend through five years of good and bad, high and low, tears and laughter, and today was our last day in the same school. Lucy, you're a fab friend and I'm honoured to have spent these past five years with you. Couldn't have asked for anyone better. Hugs, chocolates, and my impression of an amoebic fish-tank alarm-clock (don't ask.)

See you in two Friday's time with the Occlumency lesson, and I can promise that's going to be a good one. Until then, review, or I'll tell Ginny you were bullying the Muggleborns and send her to get you in the middle of the night.