Summary: HP/DM slash with a side of SB/RL, RW/HG A story about music that touches the soul, friends that refuse to go away, enemies that refuse to let you starve yourself, and lovers that never wanted to love and never want to let go now that they do.

Disclaimer: I do not own or remotely have any relation to Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling, though I do have the HP books. I do not have any permission to write this, and I do so solely for my own pleasure and am not making any profit from it.

Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG and others

Timeline: Fourth book onwards and the fifth never existed in my happy imaginary world.

Chapter Two

The Gryffindor common room was sparsely populated – these days most of the Gryffindors opted to stay out of the tower, in empty classrooms or in the library, until curfew. Especially the now-sixth years, after the loss of Dean the previous year; and the third and fourth year students, after the loss of two of their number in other attacks. It had become too painful to stay in the Gryffindor tower, where the memories were too many to bear.

Hermione looked around at the subdued small groups of mostly first and second year students – who had not known their seniors as well as the older students did, or not known them at all, and so were not as affected – and wondered if she herself had ever been that small. I must have, she mused, but it seems so impossible now, that I was so young and unknowing.

Oh, she'd been smart, even from a small age, but being intelligent was a vastly different matter from knowing.

She knew too much, now.

The quiet snick of the portrait door closing jerked her from her thoughts, and she looked up quickly, hoping – yes, it was Harry. He was intent on the stairs to the boys' dorms, not sparing anything around him a glance; this concentration of his was not new, and Hermione was too used to it to let it unnerve her like it had at first. She hurried to intercept him, planting herself firmly at the bottom of the stairs, blocking his path.

"Hello, Harry." The cheerfulness in her voice sounded fake, even to her own ears, and while she winced internally she pressed on, holding up an EverFresh© box. "Dobby made this specially for you – it's shepherd's pie, your favourite. Still fresh and warm, and the fork's inside. There's not much of it, but I tried some and it tastes really good –"

She cut herself off when Harry finally raised his head to stare impassively at her. "I'm not hungry," he said quietly.

Hermione tried for flippant teasing. "You always say that!"

"And I always will. Stop thinking it'll change."

They stared each other down until a gentle pull on her elbow and Harry's stare shifting to her right made her turn her head. Ron was there, his gaze now locked with Harry's. "Herm," he said tiredly, "Let Harry go upstairs. He's had an eventful evening; we ran into Crabbe and Goyle."

Hermione knew how that would have turned out. She sighed, and reluctantly let herself be tugged over to the side. They watched Harry broke the gaze with Ron and slowly climbed the stairs, and only went to sit on one of the common room couches when he disappeared round the bend.

Ron gently took the container of pie from Hermione's hands when she sat there staring fiercely at it. "I'll just go and put this by his bed – who knows, he might be tempted when he comes back."

Hermione shook her head. "Like the way he was tempted all those previous times?"

"Hey, this might be our lucky break, we never know," Ron joked.

That drew a smile from Hermione, albeit small, and with an awkward pat to her shoulder Ron rose. He made his way to the stairs, and entered the dormitory. With a sigh, he noted that Harry had gone off again – the window was open, the drapes fluttering in the chilly autumn breeze. Harry's Firebolt was gone, as was his wand; Ron knew from past experiences that the Marauder's Map, the Invisibility Cloak and the flute Hagrid had made for him would be gone, too. It had become a habit of Harry's – every night he would take these same few items and disappear to nowhere, and only come back at dawn.

He placed the container on Harry's empty bedside table and went over to close the window, before making his way downstairs again. Hermione looked up and smiled sadly. "Do you think I'm stupid to get my hopes up like this every time?" she asked lightly, but Ron knew how serious that question was.

"As stupid as I am to hope he'll actually stay in our dorm for a full night," he replied in kind, sitting down next to her. They both stared morosely into the fire.

"I'm thinking we should learn from the others and stay out of the common room," Hermione said softly. "When I look around, I remember so much… the chaos and noise, the laughter. Dean, Sandra, Luke… Harry." And how he used to be.

Ron made a face. "You're just making yourself depressed, thinking like that."

She gave him a small grin. "It's what girls do." Something occurred to her, and she asked, "What happened with Crabbe and Goyle?"

Ron shrugged. "Same thing. We met them in the corridor and they tried to throw a few clumsy insults. When Harry tried to walk past, they blocked him physically so I stunned them and then when we were a safe distance away Ennervated them again. It's pathetic, actually; without Malfoy they're almost clowns. You'd think they'd know better than to repeat these useless episodes with us again and again."

"I wonder what happened to Malfoy?" Hermione said thoughtfully. "Ever since fifth year he's stopped picking fights and kept to himself. Not that I miss being insulted, but it's weird."

"Actually…" Ron considered his words, and then said, "I think I would rather have Malfoy be his old ferret self. The git's always been the one who can challenge Harry the most, right? He gets Harry all riled up and fired to kick some Slytherin ass. No one gets a rise out of Harry like Malfoy does. But now that he's quiet too… well, if he was the prat that he used to be, Harry would have to fight back sooner or later. I'd rather have Harry angry than emotionless, like he is now."

Hermione blinked, and then smiled at him. "Why, Ron, I do believe you've matured quite a bit! You're absolutely right, of course. I never thought of it that way, I was just glad to escape his insults."

"Don't get me wrong! I'm glad too, I mean, you aren't a muh – muh – what they call you. You're the best witch in the school… um." Ron blushed red, and shrugged awkwardly. "I'm just saying… well, I guess, if it means getting Harry back on track, then I wouldn't mind even Malfoy insulting us all over again. Heck, I'd even befriend the git and throw him a party if it would help!"

"I'll remember that," teased Hermione, "And see if I can use it in the future!"

Ron grimaced. "That won't happen, I'd die first."

The two shared a light laugh, a rare occurrence in the Gryffindor tower these days, as the fire crackled merrily in its grate, doing its best to ward off the chill that seemed to have settled permanently into the room.

"Parkinson, do you not realize that women are supposed to be gentle?" demanded Draco, wincing as Pansy prodded his arm with her wand. Her straw-blond hair curtained her face as she peered down at Draco's arm, judging the extent of the damage. Light blue eyes narrowed critically, lips usually adorned with prominent lipstick pursed themselves, and a slim hand with perfectly manicured fingernails grasped a shiny wand tightly, pale skin contrasting with the dark brown of the wood.

"If you want gentle women go find a Hufflepuff," Pansy snapped distractedly. "I can do broken bones, but I can't do anesthetics. So you'll just have to bear the pain and shut upwhile I fix that broken arm of yours. I'm doing you a favour here, if you haven't realized!" She started muttering a spell that had Draco promptly insulting her, her parentage and her ancestors inside the soundproof barrier he had cast around the private room he had gotten as a Slytherin Prefect.

"Oh, do shut up, Draco." Blaise Zabini had to raise his voice to be heard over the ruckus. His dark purple eyes were watching the antics of his two best friends with amusement, from his sprawled position on top of Draco's four-poster bed. His dark brown hair, usually in some semblance of order, was messily spread out on the Slytherin green of Draco's bedspread, since Blaise couldn't care less about appearances in front of his only confidantes.

Draco glared at Blaise. "Would you like to try having pieces of broken bone tearing through muscle and tissue to glue themselves back together? I'd be glad to break your arm for you if you'd like."

Blaise made a face, but then sighed and sat up, all humour gone. "Seriously, Draco, what did you do this time?" he asked resignedly. "Haven't you learned anything by now? Just pretend to give in and you'll be fine."

"Look, it's the principle of the thing, alright? I've tried to explain it time and again, and you still don't get it, so drop it," Draco said acidly, wincing all the while as Pansy went on with her spell. "There are some things beyond even your understanding."

"I understand that you're lacking a few brain cells – scratch that, you're missing entire sections of your mind when it comes to yourself!" Blaise said exasperatedly. "You insist on meeting with him every time he orders you to, and at the same time you insist on antagonizing him on everything else. You're practically begging for a beating, and he never fails to give it to you! One day he's going to lose it and kill you instead of breaking a bone or two."

Draco's bones gave a final pained wrench as Pansy completed her spell. The Slytherin girl looked up at him, still holding his arm, and gave him a wry smile. "We're worried about you, Draco, if you can't tell. Really we are. The three of us stick together through thick or thin, like siblings – well, five, if you include Vince and Greg – and we wish you'd stop being so mule-headed."

"And secretive," Blaise butted in. "You never talk with us anymore."

"And it will be of no use if I do except to burden you further when you've already got so much to worry about!" His voice was a near yell at the end of his sentence, and he bit down hard on his tongue before he could say anything else, aware of two stares boring into him. Wrenching his healed arm out of Pansy's grasp he stood and grabbed his Invisibility Cloak (a birthday present from his mother) and wand. In one fluid motion he swirled the cloak around him and disappeared from view; a moment later, the Firebolt next to the door disappeared as well, and then the door itself opened and closed. Pansy and Blaise were left glaring at the wood as if it had mortally offended them.

From outside, they heard Vince and Greg's voices, and Draco's snarled reply. After a while the door opened again and the two bulky Slytherins stood there, slightly untidy as if they'd been in a scuffle.

"Hullo, Pansy, Blaise," said Greg.

"Potter and Weasley again?" Pansy said.

Vince nodded. "Yeah. We played at insulting them, were stunned and re-awakened… the same as before. Well… we'll just go to bed now… g'night."

They had just turned to leave when a voice stopped them. "I meant to ask you, why do you keep doing it?" Blaise asked suddenly. "You don't even do it seriously."

Vince glanced at Greg, and then shrugged. "It's not as much fun without Draco, he does it best," he said awkwardly. "And anyway, we do it to… provoke Draco, actually."

"He used to hate Potter so much," Greg agreed. "We thought… maybe we could fight with them for him, to remind him how fun it was?"

"And we lose to them because we're hoping that Drac will… want to take revenge or something," Vince finished unhappily. "But he's never heard us out long enough, to know what we've been doing."

"He doesn't really care for Potter anymore, you know," Pansy informed them. "You make sense, but you're not going to do much good."

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged. "It's the only thing we can do," Vince said honestly. "We're not smart, or good at magic… or anything, like you two. He talks to you –"

"However little, nowadays," Greg added.

"– but he's just quietly moody around us. So we do all we can. It's not much, but it's what we can give him."

"To show him that we care, y'know? Like you two."

The four Slytherins watched each other for a moment, and then Pansy smiled thinly. "That idiot doesn't know how good a friend he has in each of you – in each of us." She sighed, and then gave Vince and Greg a gentler smile. "Good night, then."

Varying versions of 'good night' came from the three boys, before Vince and Greg left, closing the door behind them. Pansy gave a frustrated growl once they'd gone.

"I swear I'm going to lose it and kill that boy one day! Why has he become so… so… unbalanced all of a sudden?"

Blaise shrugged. "The secrecy started since that Death Eater attack in fifth year. We lost him in the crowd then; maybe something happened? Lately it's his bad temper that's grown worse. He used to bite people's heads off for the slightest mistake; now he tears their limbs apart and chops them into mincemeat for just looking at him wrong! Not that that's bad, of course," Blaise added as an afterthought, "But I wish he would trust us. He just goes, 'oh, you don't understand, leave me alone' and locks himself into his bedroom for the rest of the night whenever he comes back from meeting him. Today's a change in the routine; he actually went out instead of shoving us out of this room. Should we be happy about that?"

"I'm annoyed with him, but I still sort of pity Draco," Pansy mused, clearly not listening to Blaise. "At least we don't have that sort of problem."

"What problem?"

Pansy gave Blaise a Look.

"Oh. Yeah. But still, he's got money, drop-dead looks, enough brains to be the second in the school, and everything else he could want. If it were me, I'd be grinning like an idiot all the time."

"That's because you are one," sniffed Pansy, ducking to avoid the pillow Blaise threw at her. "But see, there's one thing that we have loads of and he doesn't, and that's what people really need the most, and I think especially Draco."

"What's that?"

"Love. From his family – Draco doesn't have much of that. Between friends – he used to trust us, but now, he's pulling away. And I think what he needs most is a, well, a lover –"

"By the gods, you're absolutely right, Panse!"

The girl blinked. "Okay, this is a first. What?"

"Why didn't we see it before?" Blaise continued blithely. "He just needs a good shag! He's stopped doing people this past year; I bet it's just unresolved hormones making him grumpy –"

Pansy hit him in the face with the pillow he'd just thrown at her. Sputtering, Blaise rubbed his sore nose and glared at her. "What is your problem, woman!"

"I should ask the same of you, sex is all you ever think about!" Pansy said in exasperation.

"Hey, my theory makes more sense than yours. True Love –" Pansy could just hear the mocking capitals Blaise used, "– is nothing more than a myth… do you know studies have shown that love is indistinguishable from severe obsessive-compulsive disorder?"

Pansy stuck her nose in the air. "Science is a muggle concept and cannot find answers for everything."

"Science can find answers for almost everything, and mostly those answers are hormones," Blaise said knowledgeably. "That's Draco's problem, I tell you. Hormones."

"You are an imbecilic, horny, perverted adolescent with a one-track mind, and I give up on you," Pansy informed him, standing and going to the door.

"Hey, wait, we haven't discussed how we're going to get Draco a good lay –"

"Blaise! Draco does not need a shag."

"Yes he does! Just because you aren't getting any you think no one else should either –"

"Ohhh, I'm this close to killing you, Zabini!"

Next half: Sirius in a spiked collar (and leather!) and a really lame prophecy.

I think this is the chapter that has been the most revised, and the one that had been in the most need of revision. Hope this is better than before.

And also, I'm not supposed to do this, but since it's really short... to Griffen, I know your comment wasn't intended to make me smile but it did - and I assure you, this is the last revision. To Crysania Fay, I'm really glad to know you remembered the previous version and like this one better. So for the both of you, and of course all the other readers who took the time to leave a review, I'm making my update once a week, every Saturday (my time zone, at least). Hope it helps.

Thanks to everyone!

Ashen Skies
"It's what girls do."