Reaching Maturity

Disclaimer: I'm hoping you've already read the previous two chapters, but for the record – THEY AIN'T MINE.

A/N: For the record, I did not have any idea as to how the grading system worked, so I'm using the Muggle A-F method that most people understand. And I didn't know how the subjects would work out, so most people do most subjects. Draco's been forced to take Care of Magical Creatures by his father.

A/N 2: I know the Quidditch season doesn't start this early in the term, but tryouts don't need to be held this year. Tough if you don't like it.

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Chapter 3: Lucius Visits

The next two weeks passed uneventfully, with a regular routine of lessons, homework, lectures from Hermione aimed at Harry and Ron for not doing homework immediately, and Quidditch practice for the two boys. Harry and Draco traded their usual insults whenever the opportunity arose, although both were fully aware that it was only to avoid suspicion – particularly from the Slytherins, who would no doubt report any odd behaviour on Draco's part to Lucius, via their own parents. The first time Draco had made one of his standard insults, he gave Harry a meaningful look that clearly told the Gryffindor that he hadn't meant it, and that Harry should play along. Neither Ron nor, surprisingly, Hermione, had picked up on this, something for which Harry was extremely grateful.

Hermione was too wrapped up in schoolwork and the responsibilities that being Head Girl brought – and she was spending a lot of time with Anthony Goldstein, some of which Harry suspected (none too happily) was most definitely not school-related, especially as her cheeks acquired a pink tinge whenever she spoke of him. She also insisted on sitting by him in the lessons that they shared, "for the benefit of inter-house relations". Harry and Ron stopped believing her after the first week of term, when they had seen the two walking in the grounds – holding hands!

Halfway through September, Neville Longbottom, another Gryffindor seventh-year, was summoned home unexpectedly. Nobody knew why (except perhaps the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore). Harry and Ron found Neville in their dormitory, packing a small bag. Since their fifth year, he had made up a foursome with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and the four were reasonably close. Neville was currently dating Lisa Turpin, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, and had recently begun to spend rather less time with the other three because of it.

"What's going on, Neville?" asked Ron in concern.

Neville looked anxious. "Pass me that T-shirt, Harry. I got a letter. My gran wants me to go home for a few days. Someone got into St. Mungo's…They – they tried to kill my parents." All the Gryffindor boys now knew the truth about why Neville lived with his strict grandmother, as he had told them the truth in November of their sixth year.

"Are your parents OK?" asked Harry. "I mean, they're not dead?"

Neville shook his head. "Maybe it would be better if they were, though," he whispered, turning away momentarily to compose himself. When he turned back to face his friends, he looked calmer. "I'm ready to go now. I'll see you soon." He picked up his bag and left the dorm, Harry and Ron watching in silence.

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Potions in Snape's dungeon was tenser than usual. Snape was even more irritable than he had been in previous years (not that Harry blamed him, given the situation in the wizarding world in general and also Snape's own precarious position) and, with no Neville to constantly pick on, the Gryffindors were especially on edge.

Snape's new victim turned out to be Seamus Finnigan, mainly because of his tendency to be careless – and also to blow things up. Harry had been paired with Draco at the front of the room for the year (done so deliberately by Snape) and the two set to work on a complex numbing potion. Hermione had been put with Parvati, and Ron's partner was Dean Thomas, the other Gryffindor boy (Seamus would normally be with Neville).

Snape walked around the room as his students worked, praising the Slytherins and criticising the Gryffindors, as was his way, and stopped in front of Harry and Draco. "Not trading insults for once?" he inquired softly, so that only the two he was addressing heard his words.

Harry nearly stopped breathing, having no idea how to reply to this. Fortunately Draco came to the rescue. "I'm too tired to bother today, Professor. Peeves was making a lot of noise near the dormitories last night. You know what he's like."

Snape curled his upper lip in distaste. The previous May, the mischievous poltergeist had gone into the Potions classroom, smashing six cauldrons and leaving all the taps running, just for a joke. Snape had not seen the funny side of it. "Yes, I do know," he replied shortly. The two boys saw his obsidian eyes quickly glance to the shelf where only three of the cauldrons so far had been replaced (magically repaired ones were never quite the same and they had a tendency to leak).

There was a hiss from behind Harry and Draco, and Snape, sighing, walked off to impatiently explain – yet again – to Crabbe and Goyle just exactly why the dragon heartstrings should never be added before the holly berries. Harry bent over his book. "Thanks," he muttered to Draco.

"You'd've done the same," replied Draco, equally quietly, "given the circumstances."

Harry agreed that he probably would. He also knew that reminding Snape of the cauldron incident was a good distraction and a deliberate one on Draco's part.

A firm knock sounded on the door at that point, causing everyone to look up. Snape turned from where he was scowling at Pansy Parkinson's pitiful attempt at the set potion and called, "Enter!"

Dumbledore stepped in. "Severus, would you object to my borrowing Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked up nervously, wondering just what it was that he had done now. "What for?" he asked, exchanging a puzzled look with Harry.

"I think that that is best between you and me, in my office," answered Dumbledore. "Now, I advise you to pack your bag as I do not think that you will be returning before the end of the lesson. Perhaps you could see Professor Snape within the next few days to arrange a catching-up session."

Obediently Draco did so, knowing better than to argue with the headmaster, and wordlessly followed him to his office. When they arrived at their destination, Dumbledore sent Draco in alone. There was a tall man already in the room, his back to the door, his long blond hair tied back from his face by a black silk ribbon. He turned around when the door shut behind Draco.

"Father!" exclaimed Draco in surprise. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I have come to inform you of a recent occurrence," replied Lucius Malfoy calmly. "It concerns your mother. She has…disappeared."

Draco stared at him.

"It is probable," continued Lucius, "that she was taken by employees of certain branches of the Ministry of Magic."

Still Draco did not speak, and Lucius allowed himself a small smile. "I am glad to see that you are not letting any silly emotions get the better of you," he remarked casually. "We cannot tolerate such weaknesses in the ranks."

"Don't you care about her at all?" demanded Draco angrily, temper flaring.

Lucius arched one aristocratic eyebrow. "I would keep that mouth of yours shut if I were you, Draco," he advised calmly.

"You didn't answer my question."

Lucius suddenly lunged at him and struck him across the face, catching Draco off-balance and sending him to the floor, where he lay, momentarily stunned. "You really are pathetic," sneered the elder Malfoy. "You're a disgrace to purebloods and most especially to the family name!" He spun on his heel and marched out. Draco hesitantly put his hand to his forehead, and when he removed it, there was blood on his fingertips.

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Neither Harry nor Ron did much homework that evening, mainly because Harry had called a Quidditch practice. Ron was Keeper, Seamus and Dean were excellent Beaters (even if Seamus did lose his composure occasionally), and Ginny, third-year Theresa Calderbrook and fourth-year Dai Evans were the Chasers.

As usual, Madam Hooch, who was in charge of all things relating to brooms, flying and Quidditch, supervised the practice, She had decided to do so partway through Harry's sixth year, after a Hufflepuff Beater had accidentally flown out of the arena and into the Forbidden Forest, pursued by the Bludger he was supposed to hit. It had been several hours before the panicked Hufflepuff Keeper had gone for help, and Hooch had claimed 'health and safety reasons' for her supervision.

When the boys returned to the Gryffindor common room and flopped, exhausted, into comfy chairs, Hermione promptly put in an appearance and proceeded to lecture them on how they really should do their homework because what if they failed all their NEWTs and ended up spending the rest of their lives delivering The Daily Prophet, like Crabbe and Goyle most likely would? Ron retorted that one bit of homework wouldn't have that big an impact on his NEWTs, and anyway, the work wasn't due in for another week. Hermione got huffy and told him to remember that the night before it was due in and he still hadn't done it and wanted to copy hers. Ron snidely shot back that he supposed that Anthony Goldstein would have done his homework before Quidditch practice, had he been on the Ravenclaw team, and Hermione's face turned pink.

Harry, shaking his head in amusement, left the room whilst the two were still arguing and went to Dumbledore's office. "Canary Creams," he said confidently, knowing that this was Dumbledore's new password. The headmaster was in his office and he looked up from the book he was reading as Harry entered. "Harry. What has brought you here?"

Harry stared at his feet. "Is – is Malfoy OK? He never showed up for the afternoon lesson we have with Slytherin."

There was a look of amusement in Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes and he put down the book. "Dear, dear, what is the world coming to? Harry Potter expressing concern for Draco Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, knowing that Dumbledore had a very good point. "It's complicated and, well, I can't really discuss it right now, sir."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "Fair enough, Harry. The truth is, he's had a bit of a nasty shock, and I sent him to the hospital wing to calm down." He rose from his seat. "In fact, I think I'll come with you to see Poppy. There's a chance I may have a cold coming on and I really don't want one when I have tickets for Puddlemere United's match this weekend." He winked at Harry, and Harry grinned.

Harry followed him down to the hospital wing and hid behind a suit of armour while Dumbledore distracted Madam Pomfrey. The 'situation' was duly explained, sending Pomfrey into a long tirade about why Quidditch was bad for a person's health. Dumbledore winked at Harry and the seventh-year slipped into the hospital wing undetected by Pomfrey. It was easy to find Draco, as he was the only one there. He was sitting on a bed and looking extremely bored. A small gauze dressing covered one side of his paler-than-normal face, and a few drops of dried blood still clung to his white-blond hair.

"Malfoy," acknowledged Harry.

Draco looked up. "What do you want, Potter?" he snapped. "Leave me alone. Have you come to say I'm a disgrace to the family as well? That I'm pathetic and useless? Because if you have, save it. I've heard it all before. Save it for someone else." He turned away, back rigid and hands clenched into tight fists.

"I don't know what the hell that was about, Malfoy, and I haven't come to say anything of the sort!" he retorted. "Perhaps I shouldn't have come, seeing as all I got was a load of abuse off you!" He turned as if to leave, an action which had the desired effect.

Draco whirled round, standing now. "My mother's gone missing, Potter!" he hissed. "And my father couldn't care less. Happy now?" he stormed over to the window and stared unseeingly out of it, making it clear that the conversation was over.

Harry scowled and stalked out of the hospital wing, hands shoved deep into his robes, vowing never to be nice to Malfoy again. Leopards don't change their spots, he thought angrily. It's just another one of Malfoy's unfunny 'jokes'.

Because he had left, he didn't see the tears slip slowly down Draco's face as he remained at the window, never bothering to wipe them away.

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"Where'd you get to?" asked Ron when Harry returned to the common room. He had his Transfiguration notes spread out in front of him, but he hadn't done any work since Harry's departure, as far as the black-haired boy could tell.

"I thought you were too busy scrapping with Hermione over McGonagall's homework to notice me going out," remarked Harry lightly, sitting down on the other side of the small table so that he was sitting opposite Ron.

"Hermione went to the library," explained Ron, pulling a face. "Some study session with Anthony Goldstein. I need someone to play Exploding Snap with that's not Ginny because she always slaughters me. Anyway, where did you go?"

"Just for a wander down to the Quidditch pitch, seeing as we play Hufflepuff this Saturday," answered Harry. "It was getting stuffy in here. I wanted some fresh air."

"Oh. Okay."

It wasn't a lie; Harry had been down there after he'd been to see Malfoy – but Ron didn't need to know that. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, Harry decided as he got out his Transfiguration homework.

Ron groaned. "Not you as well!" he exclaimed in dismay.

"Displacement activity, I think it's called," Harry told him. "Stops me thinking about Saturday, gives me something else to concentrate on. If I have to think about Transfiguration then I can't think about the match as well. Therefore, I won't be getting myself worked up about the match. See?"

"Hmph." Ron wasn't convinced, but Harry didn't care. Anything to stop him thinking about the match could only be a good thing. Doing the homework now rather than leaving it also held the guarantee that Hermione wouldn't be hassling him to do it.

The only trouble with this particular subject was that it made him think about McGonagall's lesson, and McGonagall was head of Gryffindor – which made him think about the match again. Harry threw down his quill in frustration. "Get the Exploding Snap out, Ron. I can't do Transfiguration this close to a match, not with McGonagall being head of Gryffindor and a big Quidditch fan, and all."

A wide grin broke out on Ron's face as he got up. He knew he'd win in the end.

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Saturday came, a gloriously sunny and warm late September day. Harry, even after six years of playing the sport, still got too nervous to eat breakfast. Ron and Seamus were louder than usual (which took some doing, Hermione and Ginny had both remarked dryly), whereas Dean just sailed calmly through the meal, nose deep in the football section of a Muggle paper, searching for anything West Ham-related. Ginny jiggled the bench up and down, bouncing in agitation, Dai attempted to read The Daily Prophet and Theresa went through the motions of moving and eating in a robotic manner.

After breakfast they met in the Gryffindor changing rooms and put on their scarlet and gold Quidditch robes. Harry waited until they were all changed and then stood, facing them all. "We can do this," he declared, sounding far more confident than he felt. "Their Beaters aren't anywhere near as strong as ours." Dean and Seamus dutifully mimicked body-builders flexing their muscles.

"Our Chasers can catch better than anyone else in this school." Ginny's face turned brighter than her hair, and Dai and Theresa also turned pink.

"We have an excellent Keeper in Ron." Ron went even redder than his sister had done.

Harry paused. "And there's me as well," he added as an afterthought.

"Harry, you're the best Seeker Gryffindor's had in years!" retorted Ginny. "Have you heard yourself speak? You sound just like you, Fred and George said Oliver Wood did!"

Harry grinned ruefully, recalling Wood's intense team-talks from his first three years at Hogwarts. "Come on. All ready? Then let's knock 'em dead!"

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It wasn't a long match. After twenty minutes, Gryffindor were winning 90-0 and Ron had only had one very easy save to make. Harry was watching the game closely and keeping track of the score, whilst also searching for the small Golden Snitch. The Hufflepuff Seeker was a girl Harry had played against last year, and she wasn't particularly good. Being on a Cleansweep 7 certainly didn't do her any favours, as Harry was on his beloved Firebolt.

Then he saw the Snitch, by Madam Hooch's foot. He promptly dived for it, the Hufflepuff Seeker close behind. She'd never get it…

And it was in his hand. He raised it aloft in triumph and the stands erupted. He scanned the Gryffindors for Hermione and saw her cheering him especially loudly and enthusiastically. Harry smiled even more broadly.

The Hufflepuff players landed despondently on the grass as Harry was mobbed by the other six Gryffindor players, all cheering. This is brilliant, thought Harry. Nothing beats a good win in Quidditch.

The party in the common room carried on until one in the morning, when McGonagall arrived and ordered them up to bed. "Anyone who is not in bed and asleep in fifteen minutes will lose ten points and receive a detention! Shoo!" There was a small twinkle in her eyes, though, as she recalled her fifth year, when Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup and the resulting party had gone on until six the following morning. The students, of course, did not need to know this.

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TBC

Author thanks:

Lucidity: it's slightly significant that Sirius isn't dead in this fic! Patience! Time will tell whether or not Hermione finds out… ;)

Samhaincat: when are you going to do more to Solstice II???

Dark Borg Drone: I'm continuing!

Scribe of Gryffindor: That was definitely the keyboard, then. Stupid thing. All of these chapters are going to be long (I trust that will make you happy?) I divided the fic up into chapters after I'd written it, so I could only divide it up at appropriate points, which is why the chapter length varies. (turns as red as a tomato) You really know how to praise someone. Wow. Thanks. Yes, Hermione broke up with Ron. And although I think I know where your train of thought is going (it seems to have stopped at the HG/DM station), IT'S WRONG!!!

MagickalStar135: Sirius isn't actually anywhere near my favourite character, but he's kind of important to the plot – which is the main reason why I couldn't make this fic OotP-compatible after she brought OotP out. Ooooh, I hate it when certain websites (mentioning no names) don't let you through!!!

TinorialPeredhil: I told you – I'm going to have to start rationing your sugar intake! I'm afraid I did kill Lavender. She wasn't significant to the story, and I wanted to really bring the war home to the readers. It isn't just vague names with no personal significance any more; it's people Harry and his friends actually know.

Also to Hey,I'mTalkingToYou for chapter 1.