Chapter Title: Grief

'italics' - Telepathic communication

The sight that greeted Harry as they entered the main infirmary chilled his blood like few things had since the FInal Battle. Standing four feet down the center aisle of beds tending the only other patient in the infirmary room, her back to them, was Fluer Delacour's sister, Gabrielle. Petite, with the characteristic silvery-blonde hair of someone of Veela heritage and eyes so dark a blue they were almost violet, Gabrielle had most of the male population of Hogwarts, and no few of the females, faking or purposely injuring themselves just on the chance that she would be the medi-witch on-call. Madame Pomfrey had been forced to change Gabrielle's work schedule at random intervals so it would be harder to predict.

Unfortunately, for both Harry and the smitten portion of the student body, Gabrielle had fallen for Harry during his fourth year and had steadfastly pursued him since the summer after his fifth, though how her letters had been able to find him, he'd never know. That had been when her parents had decided she was old enough to begin her search for a suitable husband. She'd come down with the rest of her family when Fluer and Bill Weasly were married and hadn't left.

Harry was still looking around the huge room, desperately searching for Dumbledore or Madame Pomfrey, when he was spotted.

"Oh, Harry," she exclaimed in lightly accented english, "What has happened to you? Where are your clothes?" She didn't give him a chance to answer either question, however, as she rushed over to him. "Come. We must get you out of this horrible robe and into a proper hospital dressing gown immediately!" She was adamant as she took his arm, steering him towards one of the beds in the farthest corner of the room. Harry sighed, resigned, especially since he hadn't failed to notice how she had pointedly ignored Draco, even from two feet away.

Harry could feel waves of unsympathetic amusement coming from his Slytherin lover now. When Gabrielle had first approached, there had been a void, almost as if Draco had been waiting for something.

'I was, Captain Obvious!' Even his mental voice smirks, Harry thought. He wasn't sure if Draco had heard him, but if he did, he chose to ignore it as he continued. 'I had to know if you had feelings for her.'

'And if I had..?' He, of course, had never had feelings for the woman, but his curiousity was piqued.

'I would have had to kill her, of course. Can't have any serious competition, now can I?" The deliberate casualness of Draco's tone warned Harry that the thought of killing Gabrielle had, indeed, crossed Draco's mind. Harry didn't know whether to be flattered that Draco cared enough to go to such lengths to kill him or amused that the otherwise cool Slytherin could be so ruled by simple jealousy, and still, should he be worried for anyone's saftey since Draco did seem perfectly willing, and he knew, more than able, to kill? Draco had obviously sensed Harry's dilemna and continued, relenting just a bit.

'Alright, perhaps not kill, but maim. Definitely would have had to maim her.' Harry rolled his eyes at the flutter of amusement coming from the blonde. He wasn't fooled, however. He knew that he had to be careful, or he'd finally get to test which one of them was the stronger wizard. No matter how much he knew he loved the blonde, he wouldn't let him harm anyone if he could stop it. Harry rolled his eyes again as the infusive Gabrielle ushered him onto the hospital bed, continueing to ignore Draco as he sat down beside Harry, never relinquishing his hold on Harry's hand.

Gabrielle reached forward, with a disgusted cluck of her tongue, to remove Harry's robe, when a feral growl halted her mid-motion. Knowing she would regret it, she slowly turned toward the obvious source of the hair raising sound: one instantly infuriated Draco Malfoy.

Harry had experienced the quick mood swing and the furnace-like blast of anger from his lover earlier, so, while abrupt and unexpected, it wasn't nearly as disorienting the second time around. He even took a second to be faintly amused at Gabrielle's 'horror movie victim' impression before turning to his seriously enraged lover. Ignoring the bone-grinding grip Draco had on his hand, he took his free hand, allowing his robe slide open a bit, and cradled the side of Draco's face before attempting, gently, to turn his head away, redirecting his attention, hopefully, from the duely terrified medi-witch and onto himself. He had been sending a steady wave of calm warmth and love to the furiously protective blonde, but it didn't seem to be making the slightest dent. Hench Harry's more direct, and, thusfar, unsuccessful attempt to turn Draco's head. But the more pressure he applied, the more insistant the Slytherin became at staring Gabrielle down.

When Gabrielle still refused to back away, either because she was frozen in terror, or too stubborn to think, even now, of moving, the volume of Draco's growl steadily increased to the point where he was tense, leaning towards the woman, sharp, dagger-like teeth bared. It was with immense relief that Harry turned at the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps and saw Madame Pomfrey approaching, Dumbledore follwing in her wake. She stopped abruptly as Draco's fiercely glowing and swirling metallic gaze flicked in her direction, assessing and dismissing her inside a second, before returning and renewing his growling watch of the other medi-witch.

Just as quickly, Madame Pomfrey correctly assessed the situation between the three. Harry absently admired the nurse's cool head and soothing tone as she instructed her employee.

"Slowly step away from the bed, Gabrielle." A shudder passed through Delacour as she seemed to come back into herself before following her superior's order, taking first one, then another hesitant step backwards, her blue eyes never leaving Draco's. The further she got from Harry, the calmer Draco seemed to become, until he was quitely glaring at her, the only signe of his former upset, the still roiling, glittering silver of his eyes. But when he spoke, his voice still held the edge of it's former growl.

"Don't ever come near him again." The calm determination that ribboned the statement was all the threat necessary. And, with even wider, horror-filled eyes, Gabrielle turned and fled. Everyone watch Draco as he steadily followed her retreat. For long seconds no one spoke.

"I guess you weren't kidding when you mentioned maiming." If it were possible, the tension thickened still further as Draco turned his head to eye Harry. Seconds ticked by heavily as metallic silver calmly met jewel-like emerald. Then Draco did something that shocked everyone but Harry. He tossed back his head and laughed.

Madame Pomfrey huffed indignantly as she eyed he two now grinning wizards, her lips quirking as she struggled not to smile, relieved at the drastic decrease in tension. Composing herself, she instructed her new charges.

"Follow me, gentlemen." With that, she turned, heading for the opposite end of the room. Harry knew exactly where they were going. Since the end of the war, Harry had been plagued anew with fans, well-wishers, greatful victims and their families, and various hangers-on. The almost constant barrage of people, whom even Dumbledore seemed a bit helpless in keeping completely at bay, hadn't balked at entering Madame Pomfrey's domain. In fact, they seemed rather thrilled with the challenge of trying to get past her to see him anytime he was injured. Pomfrey quickly tired of their 'blatant foolishness' and a hidden room off the main infirmary was quickly created and designated for Harry's personal use. Only Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and Harry himself could access it and while he still didn't like being singled out, though more than used to it by now, he had to admit that it did come in handy.

When they got to an apparently blank wall, Madame Pomfrey pressed her hand to it, waiting patiently for the door to appear. Harry had once asked how the room was created. The war had given him a sixth sense, so to speak, regarding hidden magick passages and the like, he'd needed it fighting one of the most ruthlessly sly wizards to ever exist. But even he hadn't been able to detect the room before it was shown to him. Dumbledore had simply deadpaned, "I asked."

They all filled into the sparse room, the Chief Medi-witch first, then Draco and himself, still holding hands, then the Headmaster, closing the door behind them. Harry knew from experience that, even though the room was occupied, the door would completely disappear on the opposite side of the wall.

Motioning them towards the bed against the far right wall, Pomfrey calmly addressed Draco.

"Maybe now you'll let me examine Harry and yourself, Mr. Malfoy." Her brow rose imperiously as she patiently waited for permission to do her job. Draco's brow echoed hers as he accessed the much older woman, cool grey eyes meeting equally cool brown.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you've recently had any 'naked harry' fantasies." Shocked silence, or at least Harry was shocked. But before he could recover, Pomfrey responded.

"I believe you'll find that almost everyone with a pulse who has ever been fortunate enough to meet Harry has, at one point or another, had 'naked Harry' fantasies, as you call them. But, recently? I'm afraid not, Draco" By the time they had finished this sedate discussion, Dumbledore's eyes, once again, held their pyschoticaly merry twinkle and Harry himself was beet-red, from hairline to chest. Harry treated Draco to a stiff glare and a hasty thought 'I'll get you for this!', before turning to Madame Pomfrey, blatantly ignoring her admission to having had sexual fantasies about him, his expression cool and dignified as he addressed her.

"You may begin your examination when you're ready, Madame Pomfrey." Showing Harry the aristocratic demeanor she had displayed with Draco, she serenly stepped forward, drawing her wand and beginning her battery of tests.

Her professional facade quickly crumbled, however, as the tests progressed, the results showing not only in wand reactions such as vibrations, glowing various colors, and strange emissions, but also written, on a piece of parchment she'd conjured just before beginning. The results simply appeared upon the page. When her wand didn't show the expected results, she turned to the parchment repeatedly, quickly scanning the newest recorded results. She had been a medi-witch with the same wand, long enough to know better, but she still had to surpress the urge to eye her wand for cracks or evidence of warping.

Carrying the parchment with her back to the foot of the bed instead of leaving it on the table against the wall, at the head of the bed, as she had been doing for the past twenty minutes, she watched it intently as she carefully casted three more spells. Though her wand didn't react these times, by the look on Pomfrey's face, there were results recorded, extremely surprising results.

Very little surprised Madame Pomfrey. She had been through both Voldemort Wars and had been correcting the misjudgment of hormonal young witches and wizards for over a decade. The near shock clearly evident on her face was beginning to frighten Harry. But before he could comment, a light of comprehension seemed to dawn as she noticed he and Draco were still holding hands. With her profession medi-witch mask, once again, firmly in place, she turned to Draco, her expression as firm and disapproving as her tone.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you please go wait in the restroom. I believe your presence is affecting the test results." Draco quirked a brow.

"Couldn't I just move to a different corner of the room." She completely ignored his question and turned to the Headmaster, politely asking him to accompany Draco out of the room and into the bathroom.

Twinkling, amused blue eyes swung to meet irritated grey. After a few seconds of staring and twinkling, Dumbledore turned, heading for the door next to a tall mahogany wardrobe set in the back wall behind the bed. After giving Harry a soft, lingering kiss, Draco rose from the bed, gathering all the dignity he could, which was quite a lot in Harry's amused opinion, and followed gracefully in Dumbledore's wake, closing the bathroom door gently behind him.

While Harry avoided comparing his new lover's exit with the fiery elegance his ex-lover had become legendary for, Pomfrey raised her wand, casting a few locking and barrier chams at the loo door before, again, turning to Harry. Ignoring his look of slightly surpressed, but mild, aggitation, she continued casting her diagnostic spells, a small frown appearing after the second, and deepening with every new spell. She even went through the previous spells twice, just to make sure of the results. So engrossed was she in the obviously impossible findings, that it took her some time to notice Harry's steadily increasing distress. When she did notice, he had progressed to the point where he was huddled into himself, arms hugging his chest as he slowly rocked back and forth, crying copiously, face slack with apparent grief as he whispered one word over and over again, chanting it like a prayer.

"Draco. Draco. Draco..." Concerned frown lining her face, Pomfrey spoke softly, cautiously.

"Harry, what is the matter?" Slow seconds passed as Harry's breath hitched and he raised his head heavily to meet her eyes.

"Draco's gone." A choked sob quickly followed the statement, followed swiftly by another, and still another. It seemed the flood gates of Harry's illogical grief had opened and he openly weeped.

Even Harry himself knew that his grief was irrational, but as soon as the blocking charms had been erected, he had noticed the absence of Draco from his mind. Though it was a new intimacy, or more accurately, an intensification of the intimacy that had sprung between them on a blood washed hill during battle, Harry had instantly become dependent on the constant presence of Draco's consciousness nestled within his own. Some instinct informed him that Draco was just as dependent and the only reason thier communication would be so suddenly broken, his silent summons unanswered, would be if Draco was dead. So, he grieved. Loudly.

Madame Pomfrey tried to calm the young wizard, tried to remind him that Draco was just a room away, but to no avail. While she watched, heartsick, Harry lay back on the bed, curled himself into a fetal position, and sobbed as if his heart had been shattered. As he continued to cry, Pomfrey turned determinedly towards the door, resignation in her every step. But before she had passed the foot of the bed, the lavatory door burst from it's hinges, an inhuman roar issuing from the room beyond. Draco stood in the doorway, tears streaming from his, again, glittering eyes, as he spotted, and glared at Pomfrey, the medi-witch having to duck and huddle at the foot of the bed to avoid the flying projectile. Surprisingly, there was only shock and awe on her face as she looked up at the now naked and snarling Slytherin. Even the pointed teeth and leathery, blood-soaked wings now protruding from his back didn't inspire fear in the older woman.

As he advanced towards her, she took note of his bloody claws and the ragged wounds on his arms, chest, and legs, obviously self-inflicted. The marks were still dripping and quite a few looked worryingly deep. By the time she had accessed the obvious physical damage, Draco was looming over her, his snarling more pronounced. She visibly braced herself, sure he was going to attack. The picture of serenity, she closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to begin.

"Draco?" The whisper barely registered to the medi-witch, but the continued absence of pain did.

Harry hadn't moved when the door sailed across the room and connected thunderingly with the opposite wall. He didn't move when Madame Pomfrey gasped and ducked to avoid being split in two by the heavy wood. He did, however, lift his head at the sound of the infuriated snarl, and the feel of the familiar wash of anger and the naseating level of pain beneath it. He caught his breath as he watched, from his huddled position on the bed, the graceful and unabashedly naked blonde stalk purposefully towards the crouched chief medi-witch. Draco was so passionately beautiful that Harry almost couldn't believe him real.

"Draco?" he called again, kneeling up now, his eyes never leaving Draco's. Quicker than could be seen, Draco pounced on Harry, knocking him back and riding his body down, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, forcing Harry's lips apart to make way for his questing tongue. Harry's own tongue came out to do battle with his as Draco's wings folded against his back. Forcing his way into the blond's mouth, Harry scraped his tongue along the sharp edge of one of his lover's teeth in the process. Draco groaned, wings shuddering, as he sucked at Harry's mouth and tongue, desperate for more of the coppery sweet taste that was the very essence of his raven-haired lover. He ground his hips against Harry's arching ones, greedy for more.

While they spent a considerable amount of time with roaming hands, tongues and limbs entwined, Draco's wings disappearing at some time along the way, Pomfrey stood. She turned towards the bed, awe being quickly overtaken by pure shock, before turning away, towards Dumbledore who, though a bit disheveled, looked none the worst for ware. He smiled cheerfully at her as he stepped out of the shambles that used to be the lavatory and walked to her, that damnable twinkle, as she called it, still very much in evidence.

"I believe that, for not only our and the school's sake, but thiers as well, Draco and Harry should remain as close as possible." Pomfrey made a decidedly unladylike sound, turning back to the bed and the two teens entangled therein before speaking.

"I'm forced, Headmaster, to agree." With a flick of her wand, she summoned her parchment of diagnostic results to her and, without turning away from the now sweaty, sated, and dazed couple, handed it to the Headmaster. Smiling, he looked down at the parchment, casually at first, before stopping, shock flickering across his eyes, stealing thier twinkle, leaving them shuttered as he scanned the parchment a second time.

"Are you sure?" Expression grave, she nodded. Ordinarily, she'd have taken offense at the insult to her hard-won skills as a medi-witch, but even she had doubted the results, at least at first. They stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to think, at a complete lose. What the results showed them was supposed to be impossible. In thier preoccupation with thier own dismay, neither noticed the two pairs of eyes now staring at them.

Harry had sensed thier confusion and apprehension bordering on fear. The fact that it was eminating not just from Pomfrey, who tended to act the overprotective mother to all her patients, but from Dumbledore as well replaced any embarrassment they may have had concerning thier aberrant reaction to being seperated with no small amount of panic.

"What's going on?" He didn't bother addressing either of them in particular, He knew they would decide amongst themselves which would respond.

'Twenty galleons says it's Albus!' Reveling in the return of the Draco's presence, Harry replied, almost grinning. Eventhough they both knew this to be the case.

"Your on!"

Dumbledore conjured a chair, causing Draco to jult, but before Harry could asky why, the Headmaster sat heavily, sighing. There were times when Albus looked every bit of his over four hundred years. This was one of them. Before speaking, he removed his trademark spectacles, rubbing his eyes, as if he felt a headach forming, before replacing them. He looked up, meeting first Harry's emerald eyes, then Draco's still mercury ones, before turning back to Harry, who had voiced the question.

"Do you know what a Triskele Binding is, Harry?"

A.N.- Sorry about the lateness of the update! My brother had a video to finish for Axis Studios and he mercilessly hogged the computer. On top of that, I hadn't intended for this chappie to be this long, but when I got to the point I had originally intended to leave it, I didn't think it was long enough! The cliffie, I'm afraid, appeared all by itself. The more I write, the more the story changes on me. But, luckily, I finally found a direction I truely like! I warn everyone who truely hates Snape not to continue! Though he won't be warm and fuzzy in the upcoming chappies (can't promise he'll be in the next, but he's coming!), he will have a heart and a conscience, sort of! Hope to update, again, within the next week, ten days at the latest, but promise nothing! PLEASE REVIEW! I love hearing from you. If you want emails informing you of when i update, please give me your addy when you review! Goddess Bless!s