Thank you for the reviews yesterday!

And here is a spiky chapter in which no one is honest.

Chapter Fourteen: My Responses Have Claws

Harry considered, later, that he had had no responsibility for the world going mad that particular morning, even though it came about as consequences of his actions. He was not the one who had chosen to go mad at breakfast, for one thing.

He had just asked Draco whether this secret project he was engaged in was like the project last year, when Draco had been studying compulsion to understand how Harry's magic affected him. Draco had simply given him a harsh look, and said, "Odd as it seems, Harry, not every thought I think comes back to you."

Harry winced and sat back on the bench. He thought of arguing, of protesting, but the same thing that had kept him silent for the last week and a half choked him now. He trusted Draco, trusted him to be honest about whatever was bothering him. The fact that he was keeping silent now must mean he didn't want to talk about it. And Harry would only anger him further by pressing.

He forced himself to look away from Draco, and so he saw the white owl enter the Great Hall. It was startling, because Hedwig was the only snowy owl at the school. Harry stared, and then realized this magnificent pale bird was not an owl after all, but a gyrfalcon.

It circled low over the Slytherin table and then coasted down onto the wood in front of him, every feather on its belly and breast ruffled. It stuck out one leg, snapping its head around to glare at Vince, who had started to touch its tail. Vince hastily sat back and raised his hands in defense.

Harry shook his head and removed the letter from the gyrfalcon's leg. It was a brilliant red, and he wasn't surprised when the Howler exploded in front of him. He was surprised that he didn't recognize the voice yelling at him.

"WE THOUGHT THE MINISTRY HAD BETTER CONTROL OF CHILDREN THESE DAYS! WE THOUGHT THAT A POWERFUL WIZARD SUCH AS YOURSELF, HARRY POTTER, WOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO DESTROY A TREASURE SO OLD AND SACRED!"

Harry blinked. Not only did he not recognize the voice, he had no idea what the hell it was yelling about. That was unusual.

"WE WERE SERVING THE CAUSE OF THE LIGHT IN LENDING OUR ARTIFACTS TO MINISTER FUDGE! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DESTROY OUR SPHERE SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU BELIEVED THE MINISTER WAS ABOUT TO DRAIN YOUR MAGIC! DRAINING MAGIC IS WHAT THE SPHERE WAS CREATED FOR! HAVE YOU NO TASTE? NO DISCERNMENT?"

Harry smiled. Now he knew who the Howler was from—the Starrises, the Light wizarding family who had lent the silver sphere that had nearly drained his magic to Fudge. He kept his eyes fixed on the Howler, and caught a glimpse of the seal as the envelope flapped and jumped in agitation. Sure enough, it bore a device that was unfamiliar to him, but looked as though it could be the seal of a Light family named Starrise: a thick half-circle with a rising sun at the bottom of it, its rays reaching out to touch the upper bar of the circle, and five stars scattered among the rays.

The Howler finished, and ripped itself to pieces. Harry shook his head in amusement. The gyrfalcon sat where it was, staring at him. Harry raised a brow. That was a surprise. Most owls delivering Howlers simply flew off again, under the impression that their recipient didn't want to reply.

"No response," he told the gyrfalcon.

The great bird hissed, and moved one talon as though it would slash at him. Harry coolly moved his hand out of the way and thought, Ventus.

A blast of wind caught the gyrfalcon and blew it off the table. It managed to right itself in a few wingbeats, then caught the wind and used it to its benefit, screeching in indignation as it rose to the level of the windows.

Harry went back to his breakfast, conscious of the stares and amused by them, too, instead of sickened. He was too busy coming up with the perfect response to Starrise. He nodded when he thought he'd composed it. He would send it out with Hedwig when he had a free period that evening.

"Aren't you angry?"

Harry blinked and looked at Draco. He'd lowered his book for once and was staring hard at Harry.

"Not really," said Harry. "I didn't realize they would be so angry at me, and I certainly didn't think they'd try to make a public scene out of it, but one has to expect to make enemies in politics." He cocked his head. "Why?"

"They had no right to do that," said Draco, his voice cold and still, much the same as Snape's voice had been lately. Harry nibbled his lip thoughtfully, and wondered if he should venture a comment on the change in Draco's behavior. He still trusted Draco and Snape to be there if he needed them to be, but he supposed something must have changed. Perhaps it would be worth it, after all, to ask.

"Draco?"

Draco looked at him, most of his mind apparently still occupied with the insult that Starrise had dealt Harry.

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked. "Is that why you've been spending so much time on Potions research lately, and mostly when we do speak, we argue?"

Draco's face closed off again, and he jerked the book up in front of his face. "I told you, Harry," he said. "Not every thought I think comes back to you. And I can be concerned about you, and about Potions research, at the same time. I know you might not think it possible, but it is."

Harry nodded. "All right." He did feel a brief stab of hurt, but he found the wound and healed it quickly. Draco just wanted some time alone. And Harry had been selfish in thinking that the reason must have something to do with him. Of course it did not. He should trust in Draco more. Every time before when they had endured something that might have broken their friendship, it had survived, and they had been the stronger for it. He would just wait, patiently, until Draco was ready to speak with him again, and let Draco know that he was here for him if he needed Harry.

He started to stand. They had Defense Against the Dark Arts in a few minutes, and Harry didn't feel much like remaining in breakfast.

A group of Ravenclaws passed the table, chattering. Harry nodded to Cho, and saw a faint movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned in that direction.

"Caeco!"

Harry reacted instinctively to the Blinding Curse, snapping up Protego in front of him, but replaced it with Haurio a moment later. The Shield Charm would bounce the hex, and Harry didn't want anyone else getting blinded in his place. He absorbed the magic into the jade-green shield around his hand, and then looked up to see who had hexed him.

Gorgon, a hefty student whom he had trounced a few times last year for bullying Luna, was forcing his way out of the middle of the Ravenclaw group, tears streaking his face.

"You got my uncle arrested, you bastard!" he screamed at Harry, and lifted his wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry rolled under the table, since the hex had come in so low that he couldn't move his hand to get in the way. He heard a few short screams, and then someone else pulled a wand and incanted back. Harry grimaced. He didn't want this to turn into a full-blown fight between Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Gorgon's grief for his uncle Gamaliel was private, and should remain so.

Someone else shrieked, and someone else incanted back, before he could roll out from under the table. Luckily, Harry had the perfect spell on his lips. He'd learned it the year before he came to Hogwarts, when Lily had warned him that he might someday have to fight single combats with any enemies who weren't Voldemort (he was Connor's alone to conquer). A spell that would insure that he and his opponent could fight alone was the perfect thing to learn.

He stood and extended a hand towards Gorgon. "Privilegium!"

The spell erupted from around him, tearing a precise line in the floor that made splinters of stone and dust hover in the air. A tendril of red light grabbed Gorgon and dragged him forward, stumbling. Meanwhile, the spell finished carving the dueling ring and shoved everyone else out of it. Rude, perhaps, but at least this way, no one else could intrude, Harry thought. A curtain of hazy air then snapped up, exactly following the line of the carved ring, shutting them away from the sight of anyone outside it.

Harry bowed his head slightly to the stunned Gorgon and drew his own cypress wand from his pocket. A duel was a duel, an old and private and sacred thing, and he would not use wandless magic in it, even though he had used it to cast the original spell. "Shall we?" he asked.

Gorgon just stared at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, and felt a brief stab of anger and impatience that Gorgon was evidently unwilling to take his grievance this far. Or maybe he just didn't know what was going on.

"We're dueling now," Harry explained. "No one else can interfere. I thought that would be best, as we can keep from hurting anyone."

Gorgon went on staring. There was fear in his eyes now. Harry frowned and shook his head. Why would he have started this when he didn't think that he could finish it?

Oh. Of course. He must have been carried away by the heat of the moment. Well, that happens to everyone.

Harry bowed again. Gorgon, though still seeming dazed, bowed back. Then he stuck his wand forward, as though desperation were giving him courage, and shouted, "Tarantallegra!"

Harry let the hex get through, and danced a brief jig before he whispered, "Finite Incantatem." That ended the spell, and he eyed Gorgon for a moment. He wanted to end the duel, but not so soon. That would only be a barb to sting Gorgon's pride, and it might mean that he would just attack Harry again at a later date, perhaps with a spell that could seriously damage him. Prolong it through one round, then. "Rictusempra!"

The magic surged through his wand, familiar and yet moving oddly; Harry realized how strange his wand had become in his grasp. The spell hit Gorgon, and he began to giggle uncontrollably. Harry blinked. He hadn't expected the Tickling Charm to be one that a sixth-year Ravenclaw couldn't throw off.

It was, though, and at last Harry realized the duel wouldn't be able to continue. Stung pride or not, Gorgon was going to lose quickly.

"Finite Incantatem. Expelliarmus," Harry muttered, resigned, and Gorgon's wand tore itself from his hand and flew to him. He caught it and examined it for a moment. Oak wood, and probably a phoenix feather core, from the very slight spark he received as he held it. A good wand.

If only the wizard who wielded it were worthy of it.

Harry shook his head and tossed the wand back to Gorgon as the dueling circle and the privacy curtain, triggered by the loss of one combatant's wand, broke apart. He had thoughts like that more and more often lately, as though his anger for himself in the Minister's interrogation room had broken some barrier that he didn't know he had. Harry had tried to reestablish the barrier, but since he didn't know what it had been made of, patience or forgiveness or training, he wasn't having much luck.

Gorgon stared at him, horror and fear and anger in his eyes. Harry clenched one fist briefly. What did you think would happen when you attacked me, you idiot? Did you think I wouldn't defend myself?

He didn't have time to say anything, and neither did Gorgon, because just then Luna wandered up to Gorgon and stood gazing at him with huge silvery eyes.

"You should have used powdered Snorkack horns on your wand," she said. "Then you could have aimed it better." She shook her head slowly. "That's why you lost." She glanced at Harry. "And why you won."

Harry raised his eyebrows. No one is supposed to be able to see through the privacy curtain. "You could see what happened, Luna?"

"There are lots of things to see," said Luna dreamily, and then turned and wandered back into the group of Ravenclaws. Harry glanced at them nervously, wondering how they would respond to him dueling one of their Housemates.

Cho marched up behind Gorgon and smacked him roundly on the back of the head.

Gorgon rubbed the spot and turned around to stare at her. "Cho!" he wailed.

"I've had about enough of this," said Cho, her eyes narrowed and her face seething with a furious energy. Fascinated, Harry stared. He supposed she simply hadn't had enough time to be angry during Bellatrix's attack. "You've been chattering nonstop about wanting to have a duel with Potter for the last five days, and then, when you get the chance, instead of asking him to duel with you in a respectful way, you just try to hit him with the Blinding Curse? I thought you looked up that spell because you were genuinely interested in its history, not because you just wanted to use it on Harry!"

She closed her eyes and blew her breath out through her nostrils, then turned to Harry and shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I would never have helped him with his research if I knew what he was going to use it for."

"That's all right, Cho," said Harry, still a little stunned that he apparently had a friend in Ravenclaw besides Luna. He had thought that Cho's assistance extended to giving him the life debt bracelet. "Thank you."

Cho nodded back to him, and then turned and stalked out of the Great Hall. The other Ravenclaw girls pointedly followed, every one of them making sure to sniff at Gorgon as they passed. A few of the boys lingered and patted him on the shoulder, but they seemed embarrassed at being seen there, and hurried out after the girls as soon as possible.

Gorgon stood there, stock-still, and about that time the rest of the Great Hall appeared to recover and realize what insanity had taken place in front of them. Harry slipped his wand into his sleeve and listened in resignation as the Hall erupted, with shouting from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, heated arguing as to who was really responsible from the Ravenclaw table, and loud congratulations and cheers from the Slytherin table.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced over his shoulder and tried to smile sheepishly at Professor McGonagall, who was looking at him sternly. "Sorry, Professor," he said.

She shook her head at him, lips pursed tight. Harry knew she was fond of him, but using magic on a fellow student went beyond what she could tolerate—especially when she knew how much stronger than most of the other students Harry was, and how easily he could have ended this "duel" with one spell.

Harry was now wishing, as McGonagall rounded on Gorgon, that he had done that. It hadn't been worthwhile to let Gorgon try and keep his pride, not when he was intent on dashing it to pieces anyway.

"And Mr. Gorgon! I am ashamed of you. Why would you try to take vengeance for the sake of an uncle who had a part in abducting a fourteen-year-old wizard? Would you honestly claim that he had done the right thing?"

"He's a good Auror!" Gorgon howled, apparently stung into anger again. "He was sacked by mistake!"

"And you have made another one in his name," McGonagall announced, voice tight. "Thirty points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Gorgon, and a week of detentions. With Argus Filch," she added, making him flinch.

"And you, Mr. Potter."

Harry lifted his chin and met her eyes. He saw them soften, and then McGonagall shook her head and sighed in exasperation.

"What you did in setting yourself beyond the reach of anyone else with the Single Combat Spell was foolish and dangerous," she said quietly. "You or Mr. Gorgon could have been seriously hurt, and no one could have interfered. Thirty points from Slytherin as well, and five days of detention with me."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry, and ignored Pansy's long cry of how that wasn't fair. He should have found a better way of doing this. He should have handled it right the first time. He frowned, and wondered when the moment was that he should have made the decision to do that.

"Do you want a detention as well, Miss Parkinson?" McGonagall asked.

"No, Professor," said Pansy sulkily.

"Then remember that the danger to both Mr. Gorgon and Mr. Potter was very real," said McGonagall, and swept away, shaking her head. Harry went back to the Slytherin table and gathered up his books.

"Harry."

He jumped when an arm abruptly grabbed him around the waist and tugged him backwards. No one had touched him in a few weeks, and he'd got used to no one doing so. He yanked hard and managed to get away before he realized that it was Draco who'd done the tugging. He turned around swiftly.

Draco's face was stricken. But it shut down even as Harry watched, and he turned, threw his books into his bag, and then left.

Harry narrowed his eyes. That does it. He can't just be angry at me if he reached out and tried to touch me like that, and he wouldn't have been hurt that I tried to strike him. I'm getting some answers out of him tonight if I have to use the Single Combat Spell.

Harry leaned against the Owlery wall and watched as Hedwig flew out of sight, happily clutching the letter destined for Starrise. She had been huffy the past few weeks, watching Harry get constant post from admirers and detractors, while she did nothing but fly around a bit at breakfast and receive treats from Harry's plate. The Starrise family evidently lived quite a long way south, but that wouldn't deter her.

Harry had sent a very polite letter, thanking the Starrises for explaining to him about the broken sphere. He'd asked which artifact they would recommend the next time he wanted to have his magic drained, and apologized for having the bad taste to reject what was obviously the best. He asked to meet with them, so that he might have a guide to magic-draining artifacts.

They wouldn't be able to find a single impolite word or sentence in it, and no grammatical mistakes, either, but that wouldn't stop the scent of sarcasm from rising off the page. Harry regretted that he had no mirror and no way to spy into their house, so that he could not see what their expressions would be when they read it. He didn't even know who would receive it, a couple or an old matriarch or someone else.

He started to turn around, and then paused. Someone was standing near the Owlery entrance. Harry could feel the thrum of magic, pressing against his spine and tingling up and down his skin.

More to the point, he hadn't sensed the magic before this because it was so familiar to him, and trusted.

He let out a breath and said quietly, "I was coming to seek you out, Draco. Are you ready to speak with me now?"

Draco made a little growling noise, and then stepped further into the Owlery. Harry turned around, not bothering to change his position of leaning against the wall. He folded his arms, thought better of it, and then kept them folded. It might make Draco think he was unapproachable, and, well, Harry was feeling that way. He watched with slitted eyes as Draco edged closer and closer to him. His face was pale, except for two spots high on his cheekbones, and his hands worked in front of him as though he were missing his potions book.

"You nearly died today, Harry," Draco began.

"No, I didn't," said Harry. "Magically, Gorgon is much weaker than I am, and even if he'd got through with the Blinding Curse, it wouldn't have killed me."

Draco's face abruptly flushed all the way. "That's ridiculous!" he shouted. "How can—how can you just stand there and talk so lightly of your own life? It's stupid, and I won't stand for it!"

Harry narrowed his eyes. He was working hard to control his temper, really he was, but the words sliced at his lips, begging to be let out.

He breathed slowly, forcing himself to calm down. Bad things happened when he got angry. He flashed back to Umbridge and the black snake, and winced. No, that was not going to happen here. Besides, what Draco said was understandable. He had always been worried for Harry's life, and Gorgon's attack today had taken them all by surprise, and then Harry had pulled away from his attempt to comfort him afterward. Of course he would feel this way.

If he does, he should grow up.

Harry sat on the thought. It wasn't productive.

"All right, Draco, I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "Yes, I did think pretty lightly of it. But he attacked me out of grief, and I tried to give him what he wanted, by setting up a private duel so that he could exorcise his anger. It didn't work. Yes, I should have thought of something else, done something else."

"Why did you pull away from me afterwards?" Draco demanded.

Harry blinked at the change of subject, but answered readily enough. "I was surprised."

"But I touch you all the time." Draco's voice had a low growl to it, and his own arms were folded now. Harry eyed his hands. So long as Draco didn't go for his wand, this argument was less serious than it could have been. Harry would keep that in mind. "You should be used to it by now."

Harry had a bad reaction to the words You should. He reminded himself, again, that Draco was irritated with him and had been for the past few weeks. This interaction was typical of their interactions for that time. He had no right to be angry at Draco for something that he understood.

I still want to understand what it was I did to lose his interest in the first place.

Harry shook his head, both in response to what Draco had said and in response to his own irrelevant thought. "I'd lost my being used to it," he replied, "because you hadn't done it in a while."

Draco looked genuinely startled. Harry blinked. Had he missed that he wasn't touching Harry as much, too?

Then Draco's face closed in that familiar way that Harry was beginning to hate. "You've hurt me, you know," he said. "The things you kept saying at breakfast today. Why would you assume that my research has anything to do with you?"

That wasn't what I said. That wasn't what I meant.

But it was something disturbing to consider, and Harry winced as he thought about it. How much time and attention did Draco lavish on him, and how much did Harry lavish on him in return? The answers were disturbing. Harry had become used to thinking of Draco as close to him, but he himself thought about being vates, his allies, Connor, how he would reconcile with his father now, what Dumbledore was up to, and even Snape more than he thought about Draco.

Maybe this is the core of what he's upset about, then. I can offer to spend more time with him, and see if that works.

Harry spread his hands slightly. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. Is that it, Draco? Are you upset because I haven't spent as much time thinking of you as you have thinking of me?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I am sorry for that. I hope I can make it up to you. I do miss you. You are my friend, and I should respect that."

More disturbing to him than even the fact that he had not spent as much time considering Draco as Draco probably did considering him was the fact that it had taken him so long to notice. Harry would not have gone after Draco if he were sitting with the Gryffindors and tried to make him come back to the Slytherin table. Maybe that was what he should have done? Maybe that was the kind of friend that Draco wanted?

He looked up, to check on the progress of Draco's feelings, and found Draco's face still closed, still mulish.

"I told you," said Draco, and each word fell on the silence like a hammer on glass. "Not everything I think and believe and feel and do has to do with you."

Harry's anger consumed him so quickly that he was startled. You came up to the Owlery, you idiot! You accused me of not taking care of my own life! It wasn't so long ago that you seemed unwilling to share me with anyone else. And now you just expect me to know what's wrong with you even though you won't give me a hint?

He half-closed his eyes and choked back the words. He couldn't say them, not now that he knew beyond a doubt that Draco wanted to be left alone. It would be pressuring, forcing, making it sound as though Harry were demanding that Draco come back and be his friend. And he didn't have the right to demand that. How much had Draco done for him over the past years? Quite a lot. Therefore, if he wanted privacy and time to think about his potions research, Harry could grant that to him, and would.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated. "I just can't seem to understand that part." He smiled, but Draco didn't smile back, and Harry felt the expression wither on his own face. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'll leave you alone for now. If you do want to speak with me later, let me know. I'd like to listen to whatever you have on your mind."

And he would, he thought, as he worked his way carefully towards the Owlery stairs, not touching Draco and not looking at him. He missed Draco's contemptuous dismissals of half the thoughts that Harry came up with as not worth his attention, his causal references to Gryffindors as idiots, even the way he sneered at Connor. It was, perhaps, perverse to miss someone for the negative qualities they had, but that seemed to be the case.

Harry had reached the stairs when Draco's arm abruptly shot out in front of him, barring his way. Harry blinked and turned his head.

"I didn't say that you could go—" Draco began, with his familiar haughty certainty.

The anger broke past Harry's barriers.

"I don't need your fucking permission to leave," he said, his voice a few octaves lower than it should have been if he were completely calm. "You've said that you don't spend every moment thinking of me, and I understand that. You deserve your own—call it what you will. Your own life. Your own time. But you're not going to control my movements because of that."

"And I thought you were my friend."

Harry snarled. He could feel his magic building, and knew he couldn't sit on it without it bursting out of him in unfortunate ways, not when he was this angry. He gestured with his right hand, and a jet of blue light shot past Draco and chewed into the stone instead. Harry focused on carving out a leering gargoyle face instead of looking at Draco. Draco was exasperating him badly right now.

"Draco," he said, when he thought he could control his voice and not simply scream, "I thought I knew what was wrong. Now I don't think I do, and you won't tell me."

"You should." Draco folded his arms again. "If you were really my friend, you'd know."

Harry snapped his head around. He knew his eyes were blazing. He saw Draco's eyes go wide as he stared at him. He didn't care.

"Fuck you, Draco," he said. "I thought you would know one thing about me if you know anything at all. I hate head games. I hate being manipulated. That's the one thing you've never done with me. Oh, sure, you've manipulated life debts and Slytherin rules, but you've never tried to reach into my mind and scramble my thoughts. And I'd appreciate if you refrained from doing it now."

Draco blinked, slowly. Then he said, "I told you, Harry. It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"I don't fucking believe you," said Harry, and then turned and stormed down the stairs. He had a detention with McGonagall, and so couldn't go flying out on the Pitch, but he hoped that she might have something intense for him to work on, such as a really stubborn spot on the floor. That was the only way he was going to calm his magic down.

The guilt was growing even as he descended, of course. You could have handled that better. You could simply have walked out. You shouldn't have got angry.

Harry closed his eyes. He was calm, after all, by the time he reached McGonagall's office. The guilt had eaten the anger.

Draco leaned on the wall of the Owlery, and stared at the face that Harry had carved, and shivered. Sometimes he forgot how strong Harry was, until he actually saw the magic work. The dueling spell today hadn't been impressive enough, since it had concealed everything that happened in the circle, and the sensation of power and the scent of roses were surprisingly easy to get used to.

But that didn't mean he was less angry at Harry.

Why can't he understand that this is important to me, and support me and be interested in it? Why can't he just be a friend to me, for once, instead of my always having to be a friend to him? And why did he keep pressing me to tell, when I didn't want to? He doesn't have the right to order me around. No one has the right to order me if I don't want to take the orders. And I thought that was what he was so frightened of, giving orders to someone else?

Apparently not.

Draco exhaled as hard as he could, and straightened. He had some more research to do on Malfoy ancestors in the thirteenth century. He should get back to that. The burning ambition was stirring in his chest even now, tugging him on.

And someday, when I'm at the end of this path, Harry will have to see me for what I am—just as powerful and just as worthy as he is.