"Pansy- please. Just get off- get the hell off me!" Draco tried to push her off his arm but it just wasn't working. It was like she was some sort of limpet that just would NOT let go! He was not amused.

Harry was doing something with the mudblood as per usual, and he'd found that their rooms were boring when he wasn't there. So he'd gone back to the Slytherin common room, just for old times' sake.

The dungeons were as cold as he had remembered. Candles adorned the walls, casting an orange glow over the otherwise gothic atmosphere. The house crest was hanging above the fireplace where a roaring fire crackled healthily. Beneath his feet a Persian rug crept between his toes and open hallways lead from left and right, leading to the dormitories.

"Ah, so I see we're finally good enough for you." Blaise's voice was calm and factual, but Draco could tell that he was joking. The Slytherin was draped over one of the armchairs with a large tome on his lap and a pair of reading glasses half way down his nose. His dark eyes glistened in the firelight, even though it was midday, but his face was once more devoid of any obvious emotion.

"Yes," he drawled, waving his free hand leisurely, ignoring Pansy. "I saw it fitting to grace you all with my presence. I know how much you've all been missing me."

"Oh but we have!" Pansy squealed, looking up at him with watery blue eyes. Draco would have taken a step backward if he'd been able too. The close proximity was worrying him slightly.

He glanced over to Blaise, who seemed to find his predicament extremely amusing. Well, amusing enough to make that dimple twitch on the side of his cheek as he tried to suppress a smile. Draco scowled at him and pushed Pansy off, before throwing himself into one of the chairs before she could get her hands on him again.

She sat on his lap. "Oh for the love of magic Parkinson! I need to breathe!" he protested, pushing her away. She pouted, seemingly under the impression that it would work, before sighing and falling dramatically onto the sofa.

"So… not have enough time for your old housemates lately then?" Blaise dared, putting his book face down on the floor and peering over his glasses at him.

Draco suppressed the urge to shift awkwardly. Blaise's eyes were boring into him as though they were reading his soul, and although he knew that he couldn't, it still unnerved him no end. "Yes… I have been rather busy. NEWTs coming up and all that." He lied.

"Hmm…" he didn't look convinced. It was well known that Draco scheduled all of his studying in advance, even if he didn't publicise the fact. But he'd always been able to spare some time for a social life, either that or patronising Potter and his cronies.

"People have reported seeing you with Potter a lot recently. And I don't believe you've been acting yourself around him lately either. I always seemed to remember you forever wanting to be the first in line to get a word in about his family, or Granger's bloodline, even Weasley seems to have been avoiding you."

Blaise was looking at him as though he knew all of the answers, and was just testing him. Draco narrowed his eyes slightly and shifted himself in his chair, and Pansy was silent in rapt fascination.

He twisted his hostile expression into a crooked grin, and Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Yes… well. I took care of Weasley a little while ago." He drawled.

"Oh Draco!" Pansy breathed, smiling with something akin to glee in her eyes. "You always get the upper hand on that blood traitor. What did you do?"

"Oh… you know," he said lazily. He didn't want to mention too much about it or elaborate the truth until it was too unreal, which he knew that he'd end up doing.

He shifted his gaze to Blaise, who was still watching him thoughtfully without expressing any of his feelings. Blaise was smart, a good ally, but he was a tricky character. He now regretted not reporting back to the Slytherins earlier, but was still under the impression that he'd be able to worm his way out of their scrutiny.

The firelight caught Draco's platinum hair and aristocratic features. Blaise could see something different about him, something not so much physical as… spiritual. He'd never believed in the powers of divination or any of that drabble, but Draco stuck something within him which told him that there was more there than met the eye. He looked… happier. He looked healthier, there was a little more colour to his skin and his stormy eyes didn't seem quite so harsh and brittle. Something had happened, and Blaise wanted to know what.

"That still doesn't answer my question. It's almost as though you're leaving Potter and Granger alone. Spending time with them even." And there's something that you're not telling us.

"Certain arrangements had to be made…" he began warily, "Veela are very temperamental creatures and I am still unsure as to what he's capable of. I need time to study him… assess him. As for Granger, well. I wouldn't be caught dead in the library."

It felt weird lying like that about Harry. Of course, the part about Granger was true. He hadn't spoken to her yet all year, ever since the NEWT examinations drew within a good eight months she wouldn't be seen anywhere but the library. But what was also strange, what also felt off to him, was how easy it was to lie about it.

Blaise quirked a smile, even though he still didn't look convinced. "Quite," he said.

"I don't know why I ever doubted you."

"I never doubted you for one minute Draco," said Pansy, looking smug and batting her eyelashes. He still had no idea why he'd ever gone to that Yule ball with her, even if it had been years ago. Since then she had never quite gotten her head around the fact that they weren't together, nor ever would be.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"So, you going to invite us into your new rooms or are we gonna have to break in?" Goyle ventured. Him and Crabbe were both sitting on the floor playing snakes and carpets on a beat up old game board, using sickles as counters. Their lumbering frames slumped foreword like two trolls trying to light a fire.

"Yes, I'm sure we'd all love to see what's so special as to tear you away from where you truly belong." Blaise quipped, smiling sardonically.

"Well…" he began. He wasn't sure if he wanted them up there. Now it seemed sort of- his and Harry's place, and no one else's. "It is a rather long way to walk and I have only just got here."

"Oh phu-leeeeeese Drakie-poo! Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top!" Pansy squealed, clapping her hands together and bouncing where she sat.

He looked her up and down with an expression of distaste, but he felt sure that it would look highly suspicious if he said no. "Alright."

"Yaaaay!" she cried, jumping onto his lap. Her blonde hair was plaited behind each ear, and one of them managed to thwack him around the face as she landed.

"Oomph," he breathed as she knocked the breath out of his lungs. "Control yourself woman!"

"I'd rather not," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a half smile, which he supposed was meant to be seductive.

Blaise groaned from somewhere past her face, and Draco heard the sounds of shifting bodies before Blaise was standing beside him. His eyes were the colour of obsidian and they reflected the firelight like a mirror. His lips were pulled into a quirky smile as he offered his hand. "Come Pansy, I'm sure you'll need all of your energy for the trek up there."

"Why thank you Blaise, what a gentleman," she replied, taking the hand offered and letting Blaise pull her to her feet. Draco couldn't help but look relieved as he stood up also, and wrinkled his nose as he began to brush down his robes.

…

The library was quiet and peaceful, as it always was, and forever would be, as long as Madame Pince walked the isles. Somewhere near the back, a Ravenclaw sixth year was getting it off with a Hufflepuff, and on the other side Snape was gathering books from the restricted section.

The dim Sunday afternoon sunlight filtered through the clouds to pierce through the windows, lighting up the rows upon rows of dusty books, most of which were never even used. The only sounds to be heard were the hushed whisperings of the occasional student or the clicking of shoes upon the wooden floorboards. Sometimes there was a, 'Shhh!' as the librarian caught someone in the act of conversation.

Harry and Hermione sat opposite each other on the table farthest away from the librarian's desk, pushing into a corner and shrouded in shadows. Hermione had protested at first, saying that it would be profoundly difficult to read or write in the dark, but Harry had insisted. He didn't want the librarian to hear what he had to say, nor did he want anyone else to.

Hermione's bushy brown hair was tied up messily, leaving curly strands falling around her face which she had to keep blowing out of her eyes as she tried to study, made even harder in the darkness. Harry's messy black hair, which was no longer messy, kept being run through with his hand as he looked around nervously. He'd been trying to study also, but he just couldn't keep his mind on Transfiguration.

For the past few minutes he'd been looking over at his friend, opening his mouth as though he were about to say something, before closing it again. Hermione had tried ignoring it at first, trying to give him his own time to say what he had to say, but it was becoming annoying to see him floundering out of the corner of her eye while she was trying to write.

She looked up at him as he went back to absently running his eyes over his essay. The next time that he looked up to see her looking directly at him he knew that he'd been caught. "Just tell me what's wrong Harry."

He ran his hand through his hair again, and was surprised that it hadn't gone greasy already. He'd been trying to tell her something for a while now, but he wasn't sure if he should. She was the only person he could really talk to, but although he really needed her advise, he wasn't sure if he should tell her.

"I really want to tell you something," he began, playing with his quill, "But I'm not sure if I really can."

"Why not?" she asked, beginning to get slightly annoyed, "Harry, if you want to tell me, just tell me, if you don't, don't."

"No, I do!" he protested, looking back up at her pleadingly. She opened her mouth to snap, but upon seeing his green eyes sad and lost she just couldn't bring herself too. Although she wasn't affected by the Veela charm (she still hadn't figured out why) she may as well have with the way that he was looking at her.

"Harry," she said, setting down her quill and cupping her chin in her hands, smiling reassuringly at her friend. "If it's important, I think you should tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what it is you need help with."

"I know," he whined, putting his head in his hands. "I really really want to tell you. I don't know how to handle it by myself and I don't know what'll happen if I don't do anything, but it's not really mine to give, if you know what I mean."

"Is it Draco?" she asked, frowning thoughtfully. Inside she really wanted to know what he needed help with, feeling it her duty as his friend. But she didn't want to push him, and she also wasn't sure what Draco would do if he found out that they were talking about him behind his back.

"Yes," he muttered, sighing and taking his head out of his hands before sitting back in his chair. "Alright," he whispered, "I'll tell you. You need to know; well I need you to know. I really need help."

She nodded and leant a little closer, as Harry looked left and right, as though expecting someone to be eavesdropping on their conversation. "A while back Draco went to get the Dark Mark."

"He WHAT?" she cried.

"Shhh!" the librarian hissed, stepping out from behind one of the rows of books with her finger to her lips.

'Sorry,' Hermione mouthed, blushing red and carefully sitting down again.

"He what!" she hissed, glaring at him.

"Hermione, calm down," he whispered, looking around at the rest of the students who were turning back to their studies. "I wasn't finished."

Hermione pursed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair was half out of its bun now and her face was still flushed, but Harry could tell that she was at least listening. "What I was about to say, was that it-didn't-work. He won't talk about it much, but all that's there is this burn scar from the spell."

"What?" she breathed, "but that's impossible! There's really strong dark magic used to make that tattoo, and Voldemort's really powerful too. There's no way that it wouldn't work!"

"I know," he said, frowning. "Draco doesn't want me to do anything about it, says he'll think of something or he'll get through it. But I'm really worried because I know if he goes back there and it doesn't work again, something bad'll happen to him! It only burnt him last time but next time it might be worse, or they might try something different. And- Merlin, Hermione I don't know what to do!"

He put his head on the table and let out a deep breath. He knew first hand what Voldemort was capable of, knew from experience how much pain he could cause someone. He closed his emerald eyes and tried not to imagine what would happen and let his silky hair fall over his face and onto the table.

Hermione frowned. Her brown eyes were full of understanding for what Harry must be going through, and the cogs in her head were turning as she tried to think of something to do. Her blush subsided on her round cheekbones and her hair tie finally gave out, causing her hair to fall out of its hold and onto her shoulders.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do." She said after a while. Harry brought his head up and his eyes shone with hope for what she had in mind. "I'm going to try and find out something, anything, about magical marking. Meanwhile, you go and get Draco to Dumbledore. He's the only person that'll really be able to help."

"I dunno," he said uneasily, "Draco isn't too fond of the headmaster, and he doesn't want me helping."

"Tough," she said in a no-nonsense tone as she began gathering up her books and putting them into her bag. Her high-necked sweater matched the brown leather shoulder bag and overall it suited her hair and her eyes. He suddenly felt sorry that she didn't have Ron anymore. "Just get him there and I'm sure the headmaster will know what to do about it. I'll start getting books."

"Hermione! Wait!" he hissed as she walked away.

"Bye Harry!" she called over her shoulder.

"Shh!"

…

Draco's room had never had so many people in it. He sat before the fire on one of his chairs and tried to ignore the fact that there were other people snooping around his belongings and invading his privacy. One hand was beneath his chin as he watched the fire with an expression of calm indifference. His sharp cheeks were slightly pink from all of the things Pansy kept finding, and his blonde hair hung, once more, before one of his eyes. He had become tired of moving it out of the way. One leg crossed over the other and his back straight, Draco was the very meaning of pureblood.

Goyle and Crabbe were once more before the fire, this time hunched over a game of muggle draughts. Upon asking why he had a muggle game in his room Draco had replied that it wasn't his and that they should 'mind their own damn business'. They were attempting to play, but it was clear that they were struggling to grasp the rules. Draco wondered why they had even bothered to come in the first place, if they were just going to do exactly the same thing as they had done before.

Pansy was slowly making her way around his room, the adjoining bathroom, and the common room. She had already squealed herself silly at the panelling that looked like water and the furnishings that 'she wished they had in the Slytherin dungeons'. Highly unlikely, Draco would sooner see Snape wearing colours. Draco was no longer sure if she actually liked what she saw, or if she was just worshipping whatever happened to be in his possession.

What was worrying him slightly more was that Blaise happened to have disappeared into his bathroom.

"Oh Draco, you're so lucky!" Pansy said as she rummaged through his drawers, yet again something he wished she wouldn't. He was regretting agreeing to let them come up.

"Yes," he replied distantly, still watching the bathroom from the side of his eye as he curled his other leg beneath him.

"You can't do that Greg!" Crabbe exclaimed as he tried to move Goyle's piece back to its original spot.

"Yes I can!" he protested.

"But you can't go backwards! Tell him Draco!"

"You can't move backwards Goyle," he murmured.

"See!" Crabbe said, looking smug. His muddy brown eyes looked like beetles against the rest of his face and his short hair had been cropped until it was almost flat on top. Goyle's hair was lighter than the other boy's, but that and a small height difference seemed to be the only thing that was different between the two. Crabbe's face split into a grin, making his cheeks go pink, and Goyle scowled as his piece was taken.

Blaise emerged from the bathroom looking rather triumphant, which was a worry as Draco's stormy eyes searched him for what he had been doing. Blaise's crooked grin made his white teeth contrast with his chocolate face as he waved something in his left hand.

"I never knew you used witches' products, Draco." He said loudly.

Draco felt his face heating up as his cheeks flushed pink against the golden glow from the fire. His light grey eyes went from the colour of duck eggs to the colour of the clouds outside as he narrowed them dangerously. Once more the annoying piece of hair fell down into his eyes, and he pushed himself up off his chair and began making his way over to where Blaise stood.

"What I use on my hair is none of your business Zambini! Besides, this is unisex! You hear me! Unisex!" he shouted as he snatched the shampoo out of the other boy's hands to put it back in the bathroom, before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Touchy," Blaise muttered, still grinning.

"I heard that!" Draco shouted back.

From the carpet by the fire Crabbe snorted, looking over to the bathroom door where Draco had just locked himself. In his distraction Goyle turned the board around on the floor and quickly switched the piles of taken counters until he was winning. Crabbe turned back to the board and his brow knitted in thought, and the game continued.

There was a knock on the door, a quiet and polite knock that was barely heard over the conversation in the room. Harry stood on the other side and tried to wait patiently. Normally, he might have just entered without knocking, but he needed brownie points if he was going to get Draco to come to the headmaster with him.

His dark hair was tucked behind his ears, shining in the dim light and flicking out at odd angles at the bottom. His eyes shone brightly against his porcelain face, framed with dark lashes, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought over what he was supposed to do. At least he had a back up plan.

The person that opened the door was definitely not Draco. Blaise raised an eyebrow upon seeing who it was, opening the door a little bit more and looking Harry up and down. Blaise wore expensive looking robes with patterns around the sleeves but looked a little off when he wasn't wearing any shoes. Harry felt suddenly very underdressed in comparison, wearing just a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that was slightly too small.

"Potter," Blaise said, bringing his gaze up to his face, "What are you doing h-" Harry got a jolt at nerves at what he was about to ask, and for a moment Blaise's eyes seemed to glaze over. "Did I ever tell you how ravishing you look in that shirt?" he said suddenly.

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment as Blaise began to pull the door closed behind him as he took a step closer. His eyes were shining and off focus and there was a strange, slightly off smile curling at his lips. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he got closer and felt a strong urge to call back later. Blaise blinked twice and stopped moving. He shook his head, and when he opened his eyes again they were back to normal.

"So? What are you doing here Potter?" he asked, as though nothing had happened.

"I… uh… I need to talk to D-Malfoy." He managed, but still couldn't stop looking at Blaise as though he were about to pounce any second. It felt strange calling Draco by his last name once more, even though it had seemed so natural before everything happened.

Blaise leant on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. His obsidian eyes seemed to have this uncanny ability to make Harry feel like he was a specimen in a jar being examined. With one look with those eyes he felt as though Blaise were staring six inches into his head and was picking about in his brain. He broke eye contact and looked over his shoulder just in time to see Pansy Parkinson push through the door.

"Oh, it's you." She said, sounding disappointed. "DRACO! Potter's at the door! Do you want us to tell him to go away?" she yelled over her shoulder.

Draco pushed open the bathroom door and strode across the room. Against the fire his black robes looked even darker in contrast and they flowed behind him, as he hadn't done them up. He sidestepped Crabbe and Goyle's game and pushed Pansy roughly out of the way before turning to Blaise.

"Did I say you could open the door?" he demanded.

Draco. Harry found his eyes were suddenly glued. He hadn't seen him all day so far, and seeing him again was like drinking water once you were in a desert. The exquisite curves of his face and the way his mouth moved when he spoke. His hair that looked like moonbeams and eyes that looked as hard as steel that he wanted to make look at him softly. That little piece of hair that fell before his eyes that he now had the urge to wrap around his fingers. He swallowed hard.

Blaise studied Draco for a long moment. He was now almost certain that there was something that he wasn't being told. Pansy was watching Draco with large eyes after being shoved out of the way, and Draco hadn't even done that when she'd been hanging off his arm. Why now, just because they'd opened the door to Potter?

"No…" he said carefully, "You didn't."

"Well next time don't, okay?" he snapped, glaring angrily. "This is not your room and you have no right to determine who can enter and who cannot." Blaise raised an eyebrow and nodded carefully, before stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him, leaving Draco and Harry standing on the other side of the door.

"What do you want?" Draco muttered, peering back at the door where he was most certain that Pansy had her ear pressed up against.

"Other than you?" Harry whispered in return, smiling as though in a daze and moving his hand up to run it through his hair that he so wanted to touch.

Draco took his hand before it reached its destination and began to pull him to the other side of the room. He just hoped that no one would open the door and see him leading Harry Potter by the hand. The fingers were soft and warm in his as he tugged him into the other room and slammed the door behind him.

"Now's not a good time for this," he said, trying to glare and faltering as Harry stepped a little closer. He could feel the other's body heat as he approached and had to use all of his self-control to stay where he was as he felt his head becoming a little light.

"I just need to talk," Harry replied huskily, giving a lop-sided smile as Draco felt himself pushing up against the door.

"Well talk then," he snapped half-heartedly. "I've got four Slytherins sitting in the other room and they're most likely going to start guessing where I've gone, and Slytherins are much more resourceful and cunning than you're used to." His eyes kept on making their way back to Harry's lips. He shook his head and glared.

Harry sighed. It was taking a lot not to pin the blonde up against the wall and latch their lips together, to feel the warmth of another tongue in his mouth and to be able to map him out with his hands. But it wouldn't be fair. Plus, they needed to actually talk about it, not trick Draco into saying yes to anything. He quirked a smile just thinking about how excellent that would be, to get that sort of reaction.

Harry let his fingers creep up Draco's sleeve until they came to rest on the scar that lay just below his elbow. Draco's eyes fluttered down to where it was for a moment before he came to look upon Harry's face, wearing a curious expression. Harry looked down thoughtfully, before his emerald eyes came to look into Draco's stormy orbs.

"You know that I care for you… right?" he said.

"Yes…" Draco said cautiously, raising an eyebrow and looking at him suspiciously.

"And… and you know that I don't want you hurt?" he asked.

"What's this leading to?"

"Draco! You're ruining the moment," he said, smiling slightly and feeling his heart beat faster as he got a small smile in return.

"Oh- I'm sorry, do continue. I do believe you got to the bit where you wanted to kiss me senseless?" he said, smiling evilly.

"Funny, I don't remember ever mentioning that." He said, inching closer as though he had no control over it. His voice had gotten softer and deeper, huskier, and his hands worked their way around Draco's back and neck. The blonde was now firmly pressed up against the door.

Draco looked back at him seductively with his eyes half closed and relished in the feel as Harry came to rest up against him. "Well, you should have," he murmured.

"Mm," Harry replied as their lips connected and he felt Draco's tongue slide into his mouth.

…

"So… did he say yes?" Hermione asked over breakfast the next morning.

"I- I never got around to it…"