A/N: Summary of chapter 5 for those of you who skipped it: Harry and Hermione are together. Hermione is convinced that Ron is upset because he likes HER. Ron actually thinks of her as a sister and is in no way interested, but he has a crush on Harry. Ron had a little flashback type memory of when he first realized he liked Harry. In essence they had gotten drunk after winning a quidditch match, they had passed out... during the night there had been a kiss while Harry wasn't quite awake... Harry called Ron 'Hermione' and found himself unceremoniously on the floor. End flashback. Ron was walking behind Harry and Hermione towards the Great Hall for dinner, Blaise pulls him into an alcove, seals him in and disarms him. Blaise... erm... 'plays' with him a bit... then tells Ron to meet him and Pansy in the Room of Requirement on Friday at ten P.M. for a little 'play date'... That's about it.

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Chapter 6

Draco cringed in disgust the minute he saw the smug, satisfied smirk on Blaise's face as he strolled into the Great Hall late. He immediately held up his hand restrainingly as Blaise took a seat beside him. "I don't want to know." He said tiredly.

"You're no fun." Blaise said with a fake pout. He couldn't maintain it, his self-satisfied smirk returning almost instantly. He pretended to be a good boy, munching away at his food and keeping silent for the remainder of the mealtime.

Draco thought he was actually going to get away without having to hear about it when Blaise leaned over to him. He cringed and braced himself.

"I'm calling your bluff." He whispered in Draco's ear.

Draco blinked at him, surprised, "What?"

"If you expect me to believe you're bigger than HIM, you have GOT to prove it!" He said with a mischievous smirk.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "I really don't care WHAT you believe Blaise." He said tiredly, getting up and strolling towards the doors. He came to a stop, spotting Ginny walking towards the door. He felt an odd sensation in his stomach, quickly turning on his heel to return to his seat as she came to a stop to wait for Hermione to catch up with her.

He was so distracted he nearly collided with Blaise, who had been hurrying after him. "Whoa there big boy." Blaise said with a smirk, not bothering to pull back. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Draco glared at him, then brushed past him, "Just going to take some food back to my room." He lied smoothly. He sighed as the tables cleared, using up his only excuse. He shrugged and turned back towards the door, hoping Blaise, and more importantly Ginny, had left already.

No such luck of course. Blaise was still standing there, looking at him with a hint of concern in his dark eyes. Draco glanced past him. Well, at least Ginny was finally leaving. He began walking back towards the door slowly.

"We can go by the kitchen on the way back to the Dungeon." Blaise said, clapping a friendly hand on Draco's shoulder.

Draco just shook his head. "Forget it. I'm not really hungry anyway." He said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked, dropping his voice with real concern.

"Fine." Draco said shortly.

"Oh come on... you've been acting very... odd this year... first this whole not sleeping thing... now not eating? Breakfast lunch and dinner are all the same. Even when you actually bother to attend meals you barely touch the food... I was here for nearly twenty minutes and all you ate was two grapes and half of a roll, and that was only after you caught me staring at you!"

"Well maybe I just prefer eating alone." Draco replied pointedly.

"Ah... ok... I see... just don't like the company... so you're saying there is nothing wrong with you?" Blaise said disbelievingly.

"Nothing is wrong with me." Draco said, glaring over at him as he walked.

"Ok... ok, then just explain something to me..."

"What?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Why haven't you shagged anyone all term?" Blaise asked with a knowing smirk.

Draco stopped abruptly, "That's not true!"

"Oh really... who have you shagged then? I want names and dates!" Blaise said, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking.

Draco opened his mouth for an angry retort, but then closed it, thinking furiously, trying to remember. Surely there had been someone? His mind was pulling a shocking blank. It wasn't possible he had made it nearly to Christmas break without so much as a single shag... was it? And it wasn't as if he'd gotten any over the summer... spending all of his time locked away in his room... after being without for THAT long he should have shagged half the girls in Slytherin House by the end of the first week! "Bugger off Zabini. It's none of your bloody business who I shag!" He growled, starting towards the dungeon once again.

"Ha!" Blaise said triumphantly, prancing up beside him, "You haven't gone more than a week without a shag since you were thirteen... and yet this long of a dry spell didn't even register? We should take you to St. Mungo's immediately!"

Draco glared over at him. He was tempted to tell him he had very nearly gotten some the night before, but he couldn't bring himself to... there would be too many questions, and he wasn't about to answer any of them. "So I've had other things on my mind. There IS more to life than shagging!"

Blaise stumbled to a halt, clapping his hands over his ears as if Draco had just voiced the world's most lewd profanity. "How could you utter such a despicable remark, Draco!?!" He said, looking scandalize.

Draco gave a derisive snort, not pausing as he continued on his way. He muttered the password and entered the Slytherin common room, ignoring the others as he headed straight to his room.

Crabbe and Goyle watched him mutely as he passed. Blaise wasn't the only one who had noticed Draco's strange behavior. After a number of loud, irritated outbursts, they had finally relented, leaving his side at Draco's own insistence. They were forced to merely watch the boy they thought was their friend retreat further and further from them. Blaise was the only one he was still talking to... and that was simply because Blaise seemed completely incapable of taking a hint.

Draco settled down on his bed, snatching up one of the books still scattered around it and opening it. He hadn't even gotten through a paragraph when the door opened and closed. He didn't even have to look over as the bed was jostled. "Get out." He grumbled.

"All kidding aside, Draco... I'm worried about you... how long has it been since you've slept?" Blaise said in an unusually somber voice.

Draco sighed testily, lowering the book. "And what makes you think that's any of your bloody business Zabini? Why are you being like this?"

Blaise looked over at him sadly, "You may not care for me, Draco... but I count you as a friend... probably my ONLY real friend... I can't stand seeing you like this."

Draco looked up, his anger fizzling out a bit at the sight of the sincerity in Blaise's eye... probably the first time he'd ever seen it there... He sighed. "I'm fine Blaise... I've just been a bit... out of sorts..." He finally admitted. "It's probably just everything with my father and this bloody war..." He said, his eyes clouding with returning anger.

"He's told you, hasn't he? He's set a date..." It wasn't really a question.

Draco couldn't meet Blaise's eyes as his throat tightened painfully. "He sent me a letter at the beginning of summer break... it's to happen about a month after the Holidays... on my birthday..." He managed to get out.

"You don't have to get it, Draco! Hogwarts can afford you at least a little reprieve! I mean if Dumbledore doesn't let you go home it's not like your father could get on the grounds..."

Draco snorted derisively, looking away. "What's the point?" He said as a fatalistic calm settled over him, "It's inevitable... you don't actually think POTTER is going to defeat the Dark Lord!?!"

Blaise sighed, "Admittedly that sounds pretty unlikely... but the longer you put it off, the better the chance that circumstances will change and you could get out of it! You can't just give up like this!"

Draco got up angrily, stalking across the room and snatching up his broom. By the time Blaise got to his door, the Slytherin common room door was already drifting shut. He sighed sadly and rubbed his hand over his face.

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Draco sat in the abandoned classroom, just letting the chill air from the window play over him until dusk finally arrived. As soon as he judged that the sun was well and good behind the horizon, he cast the spell on himself and his broom.

He took off almost immediately, flying around the castle at breakneck speed, trying to work out some of his frustrations... it was still far too early for the Thestrals. It was still pretty light, and it wasn't even curfew yet for the upperclassmen. He certainly didn't want more witnesses... that's all he'd need, to start drawing a crowd!

He dodged and weaved through the many towers and turrets of the sprawling castle, passing so close his trailing robe often whipped against the stone. He sighed as he spotted a couple of students in a courtyard looking up, having heard the snap of his robes in the wind. He flew up and began circling, looking around. Where would he go until all of the irritating onlookers were safely in their little beds?

He eventually flew off towards the Quidditch pitch. It had always been one of his favorite places on the grounds... of course it was also the place where he had suffered so many defeats by Potter... and the resulting sessions of his father expressing his displeasure in his usual way in the locker rooms or out under the stands... at least he didn't have to deal with THAT now that his father was in hiding... but he missed seeing the look of rage in his father's eyes. Seeing his father that disappointed had always been worth the days of recovery afterwards.

Despite those dark times and the emotional and physical scars they had left him with, he still felt oddly at home on the pitch. He had achieved many wins there as well... just not against Gryffindor any time Potter had played Seeker against him.

As he arrived at the pitch he saw that the Ravenclaws were still having their practice. Draco sighed. They appeared to be breaking in their new seeker (The last one had lost her liking for the game after six hits from bludgers in one game). It was also readily apparent that the boy had a lot of work ahead of him. Draco hovered there for nearly five minutes, watching the third year boy race after the elusive golden ball. The other team members were playing still, but in a distracted, time killing kind of way. They were obviously tired from a hard practice and simply waiting for the boy to catch it so they could wrap it up. Much longer and there wouldn't be enough remaining light to see the snitch at all.

Draco sighed in irritation as the boy lost sight of it once again. He just wanted everyone to go back into the castle so he could have the grounds to himself once again! Why couldn't he simply CATCH the bloody thing already?

A little smirk flitted across his face as a thought occurred... He zipped forward, snatching the snitch from the air with ease. He flew over near the boy, clutching the snitch and waving it around until the nearsighted boy finally caught sight of it, then he ripped away leading the boy on a wild chase. It wasn't flying with Thestrals, but it was entertaining at least. He dodged between the boy's teammates, though not close enough that they would feel the breeze as he passed. He found it highly entertaining as the boy chased him, matching his dizzying weaving pattern through the three hoops at one end of the field. Draco was finding it difficult not to laugh aloud whenever he saw the boy's intent expression as he tried desperately to catch the snitch. He might actually make a half decent seeker after all... if he could keep this up that is... He took him through a dizzying display of aerial acrobatics. His teammates were all watching in awe, never having seen the snitch move in this fashion. It usually just made fast, erratic movements punctuated by hovering pauses.

Draco tried to keep the boy in range, letting him keep up, but he kept lagging behind irritatingly. Admittedly, he didn't have quite as good a broom as Draco did, so he grudgingly slowed down whenever he got too far ahead. He glanced back again, seeing how far back the boy was when he saw it. Before he could even think to say or do anything, a bludger hurtled straight into the oblivious boy, caroming off his head. Draco felt a sickening lurch in his stomach as the boy was thrown sideways off his broom and began plummeting towards the ground. It took only a split second to realize he didn't have a chance. They were so far up that the people on the ground looked tiny... and his teammates were simply too far away to do anything.

He didn't know why he did what he did then... but he suddenly found himself pressed flush to the broom, in a full power dive. The ground grew closer at a dizzying rate... he caught up to him barely twenty feet from the ground. He wrapped one of his arms securely around the boy's waist as the other pulled up desperately on the broom to pull it out of it's lethal dive, his body taking the brunt of the boy's downward momentum painfully.

He set down somewhat less than gracefully, but somehow kept his feet. He lowered the boy to the ground. The boy was staring up with dazed shock, trying desperately to see the person he clearly felt. He shivered, his eyes going wider as Draco examined the wound, his cool fingers touching and gently probing the side of his head for a moment.

He sighed in relief. "You'll be alright..." He whispered, seeing the teammates racing for them, "Just keep a watch out for those bludgers mate." He said with a chuckle, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. Draco looked down, feeling a tug and grinned. He pulled the struggling snitch out of his pocket, not even remembering putting it there in the excitement, and reached over, tucking it into the boy's robe pocket.

Remounting his broom, his whole body aching, Draco fell silent, quickly taking off as the nearest teammate landed and ran the last few yards. He flew over, landing on top of the Slytherin dressing room and watching from a distance as they crowded around the boy. He was obviously telling them what had happened, because they all suddenly started looking around. After a minute they gave up, several of his teammates helping him up as the others collected the supplies and his broom.

Draco pulled out his wand, muttering a healing spell. He winced as his shoulder pulled back into place with a disturbingly loud pop, but the tendons and muscles quickly began to numb from the spell. Another couple of spells and he was, if not better, then at least not feeling much pain.

He settled down on the edge of the changing room, dangling his feet over the edge and swinging them absently, trying to figure out why he had done that. It wasn't HIS fault the boy hadn't been paying proper attention... so it couldn't be guilt... not that he felt that very often anyway... it just irritated him... he couldn't help thinking that it had been something POTTER would have done... risking his life just to try to help someone.

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and sighed. Perhaps it was just another emerging aspect of his growing fatalism? He wasn't to the point of actually doing something stupid like killing himself outright... but he found himself becoming much less opposed to the idea of dying... perhaps it was just growing beyond his fascination with activities that might get him killed... like spending so much time over the Forbidden Forest with creatures that had been long thought to herald misfortune and death... like playing chicken with the Whomping Willow... even he had to admit that wasn't something an entirely sane person should be even thinking about doing... Maybe this was just another such pursuit? Had he done it because he knew instinctively he had a good chance of getting himself killed in the inadvisable rescue? Was it just a convenient excuse to risk his life once again? That had to be it. The only other possibility was that his conscience made him do it... and that was something that had rarely bothered to even ATTEMPT to persuade him to do good deeds in the past. Definitely fatalism then.

"Hello." A soft voice called from below.

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