Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own the skill to bake killer cookies. I own a fridge which I set at 7 and turned into a freezer. I own a large quantity of Halloween candy. I do not, however, own two very beautiful (It's obvious, JK, stop trying to deny it) young men to lock in a cage with nothing but whipped cream, handcuffs and a cat-o-ninetails. Woe.

Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions

WARNINGS: SLASH!

Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me.

A/N

OMFAG AN ACTUAL NEW CHAPTER THAT HASN'T BEEN POSTED HERE BEFORE. O RLY? YA RLY! NO WAII!

Please keep reading guys. We're getting there. And we've hit 200 pages. Aren't we awesome?

If I get called pathetic enough it seems even in the face of flames (which I seem to get every few chapters) I will push something out. It feels as if I'm being defeated though. Meh.

The only reason you have a chapter at all is because of an email from LW (thank you… thank you so much) and Goblet of Fire the movie. LOVED IT. Probably the best adaptation by far out of the series so far. It got more than enough into it. And Patrick Doyle's done a great job with the music.

LOTS of plot bunnies in this chapter. You will have to read really carefully to find some of them.

Also, check out Cool and my other oneshots. They're all H/D.

From now on, every chapter will have at least some degree of smut in it. It's to make up for '15 chapters of drivel'. Yes I am going to keep quoting that fucking review until it GOES AWAY.

Grumble. Yes I did just swear. And Harry swears in this chapter, too. You should read my livejournal (my user name is tashasaphi) to see how much I usually swear… and for PD arts and the like.

I draw cute centaurs.

Oh, on a punctuation note: I use '' for speech marks instead of "" because my old computer's "" didn't work. And now it's habit. So please don't tell me off for it again. Also I've seen it used inb PUBLISHED NOVELS. So I think it's perfectly valid.

ON ONE FINAL NOTE. If you do not like any aspect of this fic, just close the window. Constructive, polite crit, fine. Soul crushing 'you've made Harry incompetent I hate you go die I'm not reading anymore good luck and have fun' aloof bullshit is NOT what I want or need.

Read my story and enjoy? Great. Review/email/livejournal me and tell me so.

Read my story and enjoy but find flaws? Great. Review me and tell me so. Point out those flaws, explain POLITELY why they are flaws and LEAVE AN EMAIL so I can get back to you, explain myself, and thank you.

However, Read my story, find flaws, and dislike or choose not to read any more? FINE. I don't want to know, because it inevitably upsets me as much as a proper flame would. More so, in fact. And I'm not going to listen to this crap anymore if you don't leave me an email address. AT ALL. James-chan does not have enough time on her hands to be picking up my pieces any more. JC – yes I do cause I LOVE YOU!

Read, and Enjoy.

Tsx

Harry was in deep, deep doggy doo doo.

Not only had he been harbouring (unknowingly, he hastened to add) Draco Malfoy, sensational missing person of the year, he had been keeping him as a PET. And now, instead of Malfoy leaping up, laughing the snuggles and baths off, making a snide comment about the size and/or quality of 'Potter's' appendages and sweeping off back to his harem in the Slytherin common room, he had mumbled for a few seconds, grinned like a loon (which, all things considering, was not that surprising) and had passed picturesquely out, sprawled next to the Gryffindor fireplace.

Great.

It had taken a good few minutes of stamping and screaming for Harry to realise that a) Malfoy was NOT going to wake up any time soon, b) that he was quite clearly alone in the tower, since no one had come to berate him for his unsightly outburst and c) that the clock was chiming, and in ten minutes this common room was going to be FLOODED by students bedecked in red and gold.

So, with a great deal of annoyance, Harry cast Mobilcorpus on the prone figure, succeeding in only smacking his limp body into the wall and then knocking over the coffee table. Groaning, Harry had conceded to lift Malfoy up (he was surprisingly light, yet heavy at the same time) and haul him up to the dormitory, where he flung him on the bed, tore the curtains shut around them both and glowered.

Why was it always him?

He really needed a hug right about now.

He missed Silver already.

'Mrii?'

Harry turned sharply at the noise, to see Malfoy slowly contort himself into an almost ball, one leg crossed over the other, arms flung over head and face, body curled into itself, and a pair of normally cold, sharp grey eyes peeking out from ruffled white blond cowlicks.

'Nice of you to wake up,' Harry snarled. The eyes, which were vaguely champagne and misty, blinked in a slow almost caricature reptilian fashion.

'Mmmmyyyyuuun,' he responded, his voice muffled by his limbs and tattered clothes, the soft click of sleep dampened lips parting punctuating his monosyllables.

'Care to explain what you're doing?' Harry asked firmly. He mentally cursed at how his voice betrayed his hurt. Malfoy shuffled his shoulders, snorting.

'Rah.'

'For Christ's sake, Malfoy!' Harry spat. 'I always knew you were a low life but... but this? Tricking me, tricking my friends? Your father's been here looking for you, the teachers have been worried sick! There's been stuff in the papers about Hogwarts incompetence and you've been having a laugh playing penndragonne, clawing my friend's faces off, and… ARGH!' Harry flopped back against his pillow in incoherent rage. 'You're a total dick, Malfoy. This is low even for you.' There was a shift of weight on the bed as he felt Malfoy sit up, slowly, bonily, as if he were a spider unfurling its legs. Harry turned his head away, blinking rapidly to force down a sudden surge of loss. There was a soft touch at his calf, and Harry sat up like a shot.

'What the bloo-' Harry gasped in rage, but paused. Malfoy was looking at him. Not through him. Not into him as if to try and tear him apart with his gaze. Not glaring, not trying to stare him out. Just looking. Serenely, quietly, peacefully gazing at him. His face was nearly blank, save for his eyes, which seemed to glisten with concern. Harry had never seen this look on Malfoy's face before. He'd seen hate, pride, pain, fear… but nothing sincere or gentle. It was quite a shock. It became somewhat more shocking when Malfoy's fingers bent and squeezed at the flesh of his leg.

'Get off me!' Harry spat, batting the other boy's hand away. Malfoy leapt back with a bark, landing on all fours, his toes and fingers biting into the bed for grip as he hunched his shoulders, hissing and quacking, bearing straight, white teeth, gnashing them and bobbing his head in animalistic rage. Against the alabaster of his skin, the thick black band of the collar was suddenly all too stark.

What. The. Hell.

It wasn't even possible, was it? Surely he just switched back, and then was Malfoy again, right?

Who was Harry trying to kid? Malfoy could act, that was a given, but Silver's latest slew of behaviour was entirely sincere.

And this creature, perched on the end of the bed, hair fluffed around his face, cheeks puffing in indignation and eyes welling with hurt confusion was NOT, in the slightest, Draco Malfoy.

'Who the fuck are you?' Harry breathed, awed. The Psuedo-Draco stared at him, still puffing, bottom lip trembling.

'Malfoy?' Harry called gently. There was not even a glint of recognition in those hazy eyes. Harry felt a quake run though his body.

He had to try.

'Si…' he swallowed the tremor from his voice. 'Silver?'

If Malfoy had had longer ears, Harry could have sworn they would have perked up. His brows lifted, his mouth relaxing into a sort of 'O' The clenching of his hands lessened, and though he was still tense, it wasn't the fearful, angry, hurt tenseness of a kicked dog, it was an alert, poised tenseness of something that had been called.

Called by its one name.

Crap.

'S-Silver?' Harry said more strongly this time.

'Myuu?' Harry almost winced at the noise. It was a penndragonne noise, but spoken by a tongue not skilled in reptilian tones.

'Yes,' he said softly, and weakly raised a hand, trembling. 'It's alright.'

'Ruuuuuuuuuuu ik!'

'You're going to fall off the bed, Silver,' Harry heard the hysteria in his voice before he felt it in his chest. It felt like his voice was unbreaking. Malfoy cocked his head, blinking at Harry, breath coming in shallow pants between his parted teeth.

'Unn?' He questioned almost dolefully. His face, his damnable face was making all those little expressions Harry had almost had to imagine on Silver's face, and he was doing them all so well. Malfoy's foot moved, and he hopped a fraction forward, the bed trembling.

'Myii?'

'That's better,' Harry sighed, clearing his throat, and feeling for the first time in a long time like a good long cry. 'Come and sit down quietly and let Harry think this through.' Malfoy clicked at him for speaking in the third person, and it terrified Harry that he'd been able to work that out. And in a sudden flash of movement, he had been bowled over backwards onto his pillows, and Draco Malfoy was curled, half on his side, between his legs, pressing him down onto the bed as he nuzzled into his chest.

'Malfoy!' Harry squawked in horror and sudden nuzzling in the vicinity of his left nipple. Malfoy ignored him, purring, deep throbbing noises which were tickly.

'Silver,' Harry growled, and Malfoy sat up like a shot, making that hurt face. Harry stared at him for some time, panting a little, more in horror than anything else. He groaned and flopped back into his pillows. Malfoy whimpered, before he blinked languidly, and slowly opened his mouth into a long, silent, eyelash fluttering yawn, which ended with another smack of those lips.

The students were in the common room below. Harry groaned.

'You need sleep,' he decided. 'And I need to think this through.' Malfoy eyed him warily, before slowly cracking a sweet, gentle smile, which flooded his eyes with warmth. Harry sighed, shutting his eyes and dropping an arm over them. He waved his wand at the curtains, hearing the telltale snap of the magic locking them shut. He felt, resignedly, trying to be shocked or repulsed by the strangeness and the sameness, balled hands pad like paws up his sternum, before the long drawn out happy sigh and Malfoy settled onto Harry's chest, pressing their bodies together like the pages of some illicit book. Harry lay there for some time, the murmuring chatter of the common room below like a lulling drone. His mind was a mess of emotions and hormones and memories and truths, and the slow, rhythmic, relaxing fanning on Malfoy's breaths through his shirt was not helping this matter. He had never had someone honestly find true, honest comfort in him before, and that itself was highly relaxing. Before he knew what was happening, his arm has slipped off his eyes and behind his head, and the other was gently petting Silver's head as they both drifted in the soft haven of sleep.

'… he's gone…'

The room was flooded with the light of the dying sun, cackling crows casting vicious shadows across the moulding floor. Aquilla spun on his heel, bathed in the amber light which blistered on his cheeks.

'He's gone!' he shouted, his voice echoing in the darkness with the weight of his words. Trembling, Aquilla eyed his master, breaths heaving in his chest, his veins pumping with fresh, inhuman blood. Lucius was examining his nails through dark gloves. Aquilla snarled.

'He's run away!'

'Wouldn't you, Aquilla?' Lucius answered suddenly, cuttingly. He turned, grey eyes cold. 'If I had done this to you, if you knew you deserved it, I think you too would have torn this cell apart and found somewhere else to dwell.' Aquilla hissed nastily, kicking something over in a burst of brutish wrath.

'He won't come back, Lucius,' he hissed.

'Not for a while at least,' Lucius pondered. 'He'll go to ground, lick his wounds and the like.' Aquilla raked his hands through his hair, groaning.

'I shouldn't have listened to you,' he growled. 'I never should have listened to you!'

'Boy, I own you!' Lucius shot back, his wand raised. He was a little alarmed to see Aquilla had raised his own. 'Put that away.'

'I'm going to go and find him,' Aquilla hissed, eyes wide, mad. 'I'll find and I'll bring him back… keep him safe.'

'You will ignore his ridiculous powers and you will do as you are told!'

'No!' Aquilla gasped, sparks sprinkling from his wand tip. Lucius' lip curled as Aquilla choked, gasped, open mouth revealing long, fierce teeth, hooked and sharp.

'His blood is in you,' Lucius hissed, 'it will make the spell worse.'

'The spell you MADE him put on me, you bastard!' Aquilla snarled. His wand hand trembled. Lucius watched it carefully.

'Put down your wand, you ungrateful brat!' Lucius snarled. Aquilla choked as if in pain, tears burning on his cheeks as the moon rose.

'You'll only hurt me if I do,' he cried. 'You always do!' He choked on a tortured sob. 'A dog for you to kick! That's all we've become, even him! No wonder Draco's running from you!' Lucius froze.

'Don't antagonise me, boy.' His voice was slow and cold. 'You cannot even begin to comprehend what it is that I am doing. When you can, THEN you may second guess me, but until that day-'

'Your son is snivelling away in some pit at Hogwarts, your most powerful asset has fled for his life and you, though you would call yourself a new Dark Lord, lie here, imprisoned and cowering-'

'Crucio.' Aquilla's wand fell from his hand as he contorted, in and out of swirling blackness, inhuman screams bellowing into the dawning night. Lucius clutched his wrist in agony as the limiter clasped down hard, pressing into his veins. He staggered back, panting, as Aquilla lay in a trembling heap on the floor. Sighing, he leant against a pillar.

'Aquilla,' he whispered, softly, almost lovingly. 'You serve me… do not forget that.' Slowly, painfully, the suddenly small body of the boy vampire curled into a tiny, fragile ball. Lucius pushed the tendrils of his hair from his face. 'And do not forget that, therefore, you are below me in class, and you should do what you are told, lest you should incite my wrath. Do you understand?' A ripple of a bitter laugh moved along Aquilla's hunched spine.

'Does that make me a servant to the second Dark Lord, then?' he asked drily. 'A Pseudo Death Eater? What ARE you planning on calling your minions, anyway?'

'Don't talk about things you don't understand!' Lucius spat, pushing himself to his feet and sweeping across the room. There was a brief silence. 'Orion will have returned to Hogwarts. You heard him, he has eyes there, and he will want to check on them. It's a place where, for now, no one can touch him. You needn't waste your pity upon him.' Lucius frowned. 'Sometimes extreme measures are necessary to train the wilder beasts of this world.' Aquilla snorted bitterly.

'I will not suffer this attitude, Aquilla!' Lucius snapped. 'Do not antagonise me further. Get up! We have a dinner in an hour.' Aquilla failed to move. 'Aquilla!' Slowly, Aquilla rolled onto his knees, before sitting back on his heels and gazing up through the broken ceiling to the sky, where stars were beginning to gleam in the post day light. Constellations mapped the sky. A swooping eagle soared above him, a mirage of invisibly joined dots, and the powerful quadrangle of Orion glinted around the three-point belt. A slow, lazy smirk reached along bloodlines and flooded Aquilla's face.

'I'm coming,' he said softly, teeth glinting in the moonlight. 'After all, us Malfoys are never late for a formal occasion, are we?'

The sun had long ince gone down when Harry awoke. He felt cozy, warm and content, as if he was waking in a loving embrace he had known only in faint Hallmark Card cliché dreams. And the he remembered the thing with Malfoy.

And then he realised he wasn't being lain on anymore.

He sat up with us much of a jolt as his sleepy bones could muster, blinking blearily and frowing, only to find spidery Malfoy (he really was all long slim limbs and fluffy hair when you broke him down) contorted at the other end of the bed. From the swirl of the blanket around him, Harry surmised that Malfoy-Silver had spent a great deal of time building his nest, and that he was down for the night.

Phew.

Now what to do?

Slowly, meekly, Harry emerged from his curtains, and frantically placed every locking, sealing, closing and stagnating charm he knew on his curtains, just for good measure. He did not need a half-naked, spazzed out missing-person wandering around the Gryffindor Common Room answering to the name Silver and lynching anyone and everyone of their hard earned coffee.

'Hiding something?' said a familiar, yet augmented voice. Harry turned sharply to see Ryan sitting on his bed, pulling a bandage tight on his knee with his tooth. He looked… awful.

'Ryan,' Harry managed. 'You… Are you alright?' He frowned. 'You're really pale.'

'Just tired,' he said emptily. 'I…' He paused with a hefty, exhausted sigh, almost as if he really couldn't be bothered thinking anymore. He screwed up his forehead a little before turning back to Harry with a sudden fake smile. 'I had a nasty reaction to something in remedial potions.' He smiled. 'Nasty business with a stray rat, some shattered potion vials and whatever was in that unwashed cauldron.'

'Nice...' Harry mused, wincing in sympathy. 'Are you alright now?'

'Madame Pomfrey was very understanding,' he said slowly. Harry noticed now that his eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, his skin near translucent and clammy, and his hands were shaking as he tied the knot on his bandages.

'You… you're not looking so good,' Harry noted, walking over to the bed. 'Would you like me to go and get her again?' He went to put his hand on the other boys shoulder.

'No!' Ryan spat, jumping suddenly back from Harry's touch. He curled up a little, and Harry noticed how much he was sweating.

'No,' he repeated. 'I just need to take a shower and get some rest, Harry. Please don't worry yourself.'

'Alright,' Harry finally agreed. 'I'll leave you to that.'

'Thank you.'

'Look… feel better, okay!' Harry called as he left the room, the door closing neatly behind him. 'I'll check back after dinner if I don't see you!' And his muffled voice faded with the slap of his shoes on the heavy stone steps. Ryan, sweating with exertion, gave up on projecting his false image quickly, his true body collapsing in a naked, trembling, blood-caked heap on the bedsheets. Slowly, breath rasping on his dry lips he sat up, staring at the guarded curtains on Harry's bed.

'I'll worry about you later,' he snarled, having the presence of mind to draw and lock his curtains before passing picturesquely out, back throbbing where his tired wings ached.

'Is something the matter, Potter?'

'No, Professor,' Harry managed weakly, before forcing a smile. 'I haven't been sleeping well.'

'I find cocoa always helps,' Professor Flitwick suggested. 'Though, if it persists, go and see Madame Pomfrey about a sleeping draft. We can't have our students becoming insomniacs, now, can we?'

'No sir,' Harry smiled wanly, before leaving the classroom with a muttered thank you. Three days had passed. Ryan was having time off school due to fainting spells, and it worried Harry that both he and the Malfoy/Silver were up in that dormitory all day together. Ryan was continually, playfully curious about what was behind the curtains, but Harry informed him frequently, vehemently, that it was an experimental Christmas present and if anyone peeked it would be wasted.

He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't told anyone yet. It didn't make sense to him at all. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone.

Malfoy might have hated him, but this strange animal personality 'Silver' didn't. He had warmed to Harry, found sanctuary in him, and Harry was not about to give that up.

It was ridiculous, but the pang of loss he had felt since losing Hedwig in that attack seemed bearable when Silver was there. Even when the Silver in question had tousled blonde hair and the expression of an angel painted on a sinner's face.

The scratching and the biting and the fighting made so much sense now, Harry thought as he ascended the two flights to the common room. Malfoy had not only been disgraced- Harry had pretty much saved his wretched little life after all- but he had been stuck without back up or means of escape. He had retaliated like a viper backed into a corner; frightened, alone and desperate.

It was now obvious why the Penndragonne had gone missing at Malfoy manor… or was it? Granted, it would have been easy for Malfoy to hide in his own home… but why hadn't Malfoy just gone home with Lucius the day he had vanished? The day Hermione had found Silver. Who had gotten to him at Malfoy Manor before Ryan found him? Why hadn't he revealed himself sooner? What was this 'Silver' personality he seemed to have adopted? Harry's head was a buzz of questions and worries.

He got a whole new one when he visited Malfoy in the dormitory.

Malfoy/Silver was blinking at him dolefully, lying, curled, with his nose to Harry's wash bag like a puppy with a leash. The last button has fallen off the shreds of his shirt, and it was hanging off one of his shoulders and he snuggled next to the bag, mumbling.

'Bath,' Harry translated, sitting cross legged next to his pillows. 'Right.' Malfoy/Silver sat up, eyes glinting happily, a soft hum on his lips. Harry frowned.

'You can bathe yourself though, right?' he enquired. 'You may be crazy and think you're a penndragonne and stuff but… you remember how to wash, right?' Malfoy blinked at him, pursing his lips.

'Wakk!' he suddenly boomed. Harry was very, very glad for his silencio charm just then.

'I'm not bathing you, Malfoy.'

'Oooooouuu?'

'No, really. Not funny.'

'Schhhhiiiiiii!'

'Oh my god, Malfoy, we've had baths together.'

'Roo.'

'Oh my god…'

'Ruuuuoooh?'

'Malfoy, you've seen me naked. That's just wrong and weird.'

'Nyah.'

'That's like Pansy Parkinson seeing me naked. Or Millicent Bullstrode. Or someone equally… slytherin.'

'Ieh.'

'Urgh… if you start spreading false slander about my manbits round the school, you're a dead dragon.'

'Woo…'

'…'

'….i.'

'You have no idea what I'm going on about, do you?'

'Waaaaaaa!' Malfoy/Silver suddenly squawked, batting the bag of washkit at Harry. He pouted impatiently. Harry frowned.

'Fine. But I'm staying dressed. And you're keeping the trousers on, no matter what!'

The Common Room was nearly empty when Harry left, under a silencing charm and bundled in his invisibility cloak with a very wriggly tactile blonde. The portrait hole slammed shut and Hermione, who sat, tense in her arm chair, looked up briefly. Across from her sat her tormentor, reading a book on Numerology peacefully.

'Funny how the draft from tightly closed windows can make doors bang in this castle,' he commented drily, before raising his eyes to her. She yelped, as if scalded.

'Call the other one,' he commanded. She folded her book shut stiffly, before rising and painfully walking to the staircase.

'G-Ginny?' She called, swallowing hard and pressing her eyes shut to quash terrified tears. There was a long pause, with nothing but the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the muted yelling and whooping from deep within the castle as Duelling club kicked off.

'Hermione?' A muffled voice from upstairs. 'Are you alright?'

'Come down!' Hermione called shakily, before Ryan beckoned her back to the chairs.

'Hermione?' Ginny asked as she reached the bottom stop, before freezing up.

'Come here and sit down,' Ryan ordered. Ginny flushed, but didn't move. Ryan turned his head to her, frowning, and she whimpered, hurrying to sit by Hermione on the chair, clutching at her. Ryan sighed, looking around calmly.

'Was there anyone upstairs?' he asked. Ginny shook her head honestly. He turned his gaze to Hermione. 'Lock the Portrait.'

'I can't do that,' she mumbled.

'Do it now,' he snapped, a sweat breaking on his forehead. Hermione raised her wand, casting a complicated mix of spells. Ryan sighed, putting down his book.

'I suppose I don't have to bother wasting my energy projecting a desired image for you two,' he pondered, before weakening his power of suggestion. It revealed Orion, the scarlet eyed white creature, more drawn and pale than ever. He was weak, panting a little from exertion, clearly unwell and exhausted.

'I'll be brief,' he hissed. 'You're going to answer my questions. And then I'm going to give you an order. And you're going to do it. Understand?' Ginny nodded sceptically. Hermione frowned.

'What if I say no?' she asked shakily. Orion cocked an eyebrow.

'If you say no,' he said slowly, 'or in any way provoke me, girl, I will lay you down somewhere public and humiliate you, whilst gorging on the still bleeding flesh of your classmates.' He shrugged. 'And then I'll eat your cat and feed you its eyeballs.' He smiled sweetly. 'Are you going to say no?' Hermione didn't speak for turning green with nausea. Orion smirked.

'Heck, the meat would do me good. I guess we have an accord, then?' Ginny trembled.

'You've been bitten,' she mumbled. Orion glared at her. Hermione smirked.

'By a vampire, no less,' she hissed. 'No wonder you're feeling sick.' Orion snarled, and the girls jumped.

'Remember what happened to Durmstrang?' He snapped, eyes whirling. 'It can happen here too. Everyone dead, in a pool of their own boiled blood and passion.'

'You're not strong enough,' she challenged. Orion rolled his eyes.

'You know, I think I'm going to eat that red headed twit just for the sheer fun of it after this…'

'Not Ron!' Ginny squeaked. Orion focused his energy, and the girls fell back against the chair, panting, flushed and tearful.

'What is Harry Potter hiding behind the curtains in his room?' he demanded. Hermione glared.

'You sleep in his room,' she pondered.

'Answer the question!'

'I don't know,' Ginny mumbled. 'He said to Ron it was a Christmas present.' Sweating, Orion intensified his gaze, and Ginny cried out. Hermione trembled.

'I haven't seen Silver recently,' she said in a rush. 'Maybe… maybe he's acting up, or he's sick or something's happened to him and…' Orion was eyeing her carefully.

'And what?' he asked gently. Hermione sobbed.

'I don't know,' she mumbled. 'Maybe he needs isolation or something.'

'So you think the thing behind the curtains is the penndragonne?' Orion asked. Hermione, after a pause, nodded.

'It would explain why he's been absent from Harry's daily life, yes.' Orion frowned and pondered for a while.

'What do you know about Draco Malfoy?'

Harry had taken the Malfoy/Silver to the normal bathroom. The Prefect's bathroom had a bath in it, and Silver liked baths a lot. He had absolutely no intention of letting the Malfoy/Silver near a bath. Cuddling, he remembered, happened in baths. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that right now, and he was trying not to think about it. So, they went to the Sixth Year bathrooms on the fourth floor, where there were only showers. Showers were safe. It was like hosing down a horse: you could do it from a distance, without touching, and some level of cleanliness could be achieved. Of course, it wasn't like scrubbing down, that intimate forceful contact that really achieved longlasting freshness, but Harry did not, EVER, want to scrub down Draco Malfoy. Heck, blasting him with a hose FOR HIS OWN GOOD rather than as a punishment or a torment wasn't exactly desirable either. But if he handed Malfoy in, he handed in Silver, and yes, he'd get bathed and fed and looked after, but Harry would lose that intimate friendship he'd developed.

That, and he could imagine the look in Silver's eyes if Harry did, and it haunted him.

Wait, not Silver. Malfoy. Malfoy/Silver.

Why was his life always so complicated?

'Sit down,' Harry commanded, casting a few spells around the cubicle he had chosen. He heard a thump and fumbled for the invisibility cloak. Malfoy reappeared, looking vaguely irritable, but flushed, ruffled, cute.

'Take of your shirt, and I'll sort out the soap,' Harry commanded. He rummaged through the nozzles on the wall until he found ones he knew from memory were the ones Malfoy used at home. When he turned back, Malfoy was crouched over the drain hole, hunched, snarling.

'Stop that and come over here,' Harry groaned. 'I haven't got all day.' Malfoy did not desist, cocking his head and barking. Harry thanked the lord for silencing charms.

'Ma… Silver!'

'Mrii?'

'Here, please.' The Malfoy/Silver snorted, pursing prim lips, before glowering one last time down the drain and skulking in a sort of predatorily crawl towards Harry. Harry tugged the water hose down, rubbing a blob of soapy shampoo into the tangled, mat-threatened locks rather violently. Malfoy grumbled at the rough treatment, but he sat quite still, having now learnt that soap meant bath, and bath meant clean, and clean was nice and warm.

He was not prepared for the blast of hot water violently spurting straight down on his scalp when Harry turned on the nozzle.

He sprung back with a yelp, babbling away, before Harry flicked his wrist and caught the other boy straight in the mouth. Malfoy howled miserably as Harry hosed him off with the intense water, aiming it mainly at his head, though a little at his torso. The remains of the school shirt which Malfoy had not removed were wet through, pressing illicitly to skin and raised skin-dark bumps in the air chill when Harry turned the water off. Harry considered this hunched, tortured figure which mumbled and grumbled to itself and shook his head. Malfoy pressed himself into a corner when Harry dumped more shampoo into his grey-soaked locks before slapping lather roughly onto his body.

'Rub,' Harry demanded. Malfoy scowled, before shrieking into a jet of well aimed water.

It took some forty minutes of rolling and splashing and flicking of soap for Malfoy to even resemble clean. It took a further twenty to persuade him out of the safe corner of the cubicle and under the invisibility cloak. It was moments like this when Harry wondered why on earth he really bothered. Then someone was pressing at his side under the cloak, nuzzling into him and murmuring purred thanks, and everything made sense again.

'You're late.'

'I can hardly move,' Orion snarled, panting where he sat. 'And I had to fly all the way here.' He narrowed his eyes. 'I can't believe you take such poor care of your star new assistant.' There was a chuckle from the dark throne.

'What would you have had me do?' the slimy high voice asked. 'Send you a coach and four? Your integration in the school is a secret one, and I offer no such luxuries to any other in my servitude.' Orion snorted.

'No other is so valuable to you,' he shot back. 'No other has such deep connections in the two places you need to be.'

'I am not a patient person, Orion.' Red eyes narrowed. 'Report immediately. I grow tired of your whining.' Orion growled, before hugging his knees in his place on the floor.

'Lucius grows anxious for the boy. He believes he has secreted himself into the chamber of secrets, and lurks there indefinitely. Of course, Dumbledore and the ministry will never give him permission to search, and he will not give consent to a search for his so unless he is present. It will keep him occupied for some time, and distracted from more important things.'

'Such as?'

'Such as his big rebellion. Such as what's happening in the thick of Hogwarts. Such as where his son is.'

'And where is he?' the voice was lulling, suggestive. 'He would make an excellent bartering chip, were he to be taken.' Orion cocked an eyebrow.

'I have his location covered by two of my spies, my Lord.' He smiled. 'The boy is finally rebelling back against the restrictions I have pushed upon him. I fear his mind will return to him all but fully within the week.' Orion smiled. 'If all goes to plan tonight, my lord, you will have him immediately.'

'And if all doesn't go well?' Orion narrowed his eyes.

'Then I will take him myself, my Lord. Although I cannot guarantee whether or not he will reach your hands alive if this is the case.'

'Your wrath is intoxicating, Orion,' Voldemort sneered. Orion frowned.

'I have endured much in my time,' he muttered, voice as gravel. 'And I will have my reward, no matter how much blood I have to spill in the process.' He stood, suddenly. 'If there is anything else you desire, you have only to contact me.'

'Of course, Orion. Your contributions are greatly welcomed.'

Malfoy, or was it Silver, was sitting inelegantly at the far end of Harry's bed, wearing a pair of old pajamas Harry had inherited from Dudley. They fitted Draco even less well, with the enormous top hanging off his neck, letting the twilight shadows dance dirty magic in grey down his throat and chest, and the trousers sliding low and lopsided on his hips, as if he were swathed in illicit cloud, rather than cheap immense flannel. Harry, grumbling the whole time, had towelled his hair and some of his body dry, after peeling off the tattered shirt remains. Said hair was drying, sort of fluffy, around his ears, curling a little around his ears and in the still wet brassy bits, almost straight in others. Harry had forced him, with a great deal of wriggling, into the trousers, before pulling the draw string as tight as it would go. Malfoy's underwear had been soaked, and Harry, blushing furiously, needed to see no more of that. Somewhere between drying him and putting on the huge top, Harry had found himself preoccupied with the skin on Malfoy's left forearm. White, crisply white, yet soft like all skin is, and smooth like aristocracy, it was like marble, yet warm and vaguely throbbing, and blushed with blue watercolours where his veins ran silently beneath the flesh. Harry found his fingers trailing from the wrist to the elbow, seeking something when there was nothing there. Draco had never been marked. Harry couldn't even see the marker points he had seen on Zabini's arm. The flawless skin was uniformly smooth and pale, not marred by that ugly goblin that Voldemort chose to brand his cattle with. Realising he had been distracted for quite a while, Harry had looked up to find Malfoy staring at him calmly, his head cocked to one side a little. His eyes were almost clear, looking straight into Harry's, honest, unabashed, telling him in plain mind words that he was clean. He was untouched. He was not with Him.

Falling asleep had been much easier after that, despite the occasional throbbing from remembering that fresh warm skin, and twitches that excited him and terrified him. As he dozed off, he had felt Malfoy cuddle around his feet, and felt that same soft completeness as when he had dozed off with Silver asleep on his pillow.

He was not expecting a shaft of white moonlight to the face as his curtains were ripped back.

'Mur?' he managed, covered his eyes in pain and blinking rapidly to clear the sleepy tears. Slowly, his vision came to, and a girl was standing on either side of his bed. It took quite some time to realise that it was Ginny and Hermione, and he was not having THAT dream again.

''Mione?' He asked sleepily. 'What are you two doing here?' Neither girl replied as they stared blankly forward, trembling with some kind of inner exertion, sweat trickling down the sides of their faces and beading on their brows. They were flushed, as if feverish, but their eyes suspiciously misted.

'Ginny?' Harry asked the other girl, whose fringe had become matted to her forehead. She shook a little more. He heard Hermione's breath hitch on his other side, and turned back to her, to see tears brimming. He sat up, before spotting Malfoy, still asleep, curled up in the shadow of the curtains. He felt his wand roll from under his pillow and tap against his thigh.

'What's going on?' he asked cautiously, very aware of that sleeping bundle he saw as Silver, innocently dozing, completely unaware.

'…rry' Hermione mumbled, before raising her hand. Ginny did the same. Harry eyes boggled.

'What the-'

He was cut off by the slice of metal in the air as their shimmering blades ploughed down into the mattress. He squirmed out of the way just in time. Blindly, eyes glazed, the girls removed the knives, clearly stolen from the kitchen, and raised them high above their heads.

'What are you doing!' Harry cried desperately, before the assailants attacked again.

PS – my beta is sexy and amazing and I love her. -- THE TROOTH

R+R PLEASE