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 Six

Hovering on his Firebolt, halfway to the Gryffindor boy's dormitory window from the roof, Harry drank in the unusual sight before him. He had been on his way back to the dorm when the pale glimmer of the rising sun had caught his eye. Green eyes wide, he sat still on the broomstick, hardly daring to breathe. With an artistic flair he never knew dawn had, the sky had been painted a luscious tint of rose and swirling pearl and there were bursts of clouds patching it here and there.

But the most startling, most wondrous, most unique sight of all was the silver that coated everything, a silver that seemed to shimmer and sigh and tease the fingers of sun that grasped the horizon; mixed with strong, steady, gleaming gold that was the background to the silver's foreground, a gold that complemented the mistily soft silver with its bright, cheerful blaze that shone even from under all the other shifting colours.

After what seemed like an eternity (which was in reality only about a minute), the gold gave one last proud burst of colour before fading, followed a little while later by the slow fading of the silver. Harry turned and resumed his flying, still awed by what he had witnessed. It was not everyday that one saw a gold and silver dawn, and it wasn't until much later that he realized what it truly symbolized.

Right now he was thinking of the night he had spent, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He felt better than he had for a long time, despite lack of sleep. The entire time, all the way till dawn, he had spent talking about his burdens and problems with the Pianist. Avoiding anything that would give their identities away, just unloading proverbial weights off their shoulders. It felt so relaxing to be able to just talk... but then, come to think of it, they weren't talking, were they? Then how could –

"AAH!" Harry yelped as he was knocked off his broom by something that barreled into him the moment he flew into the dorm. Even though he was dazed and trying to recover his breath, he fumbled for his wand, blinded and choking. Thoughts speeded through his mind – had Voldemort somehow managed to set up a trap for him right in Hogwarts? How did he get any of his minions in here? And – oh god, his friends! They should have been pulling back their covers by now, asking him what the problem was, but there was no movement, no sound except Sirius's panicked voice and his own loud breathing and the painful thudding of his heart –

Wait a sec. What?

"... to scare you, I'm really sorry, Harry please listen, it's just me, or rather Padfoot, I really didn't mean to scare you like that, I just wanted to surprise you, I didn't think... hey, are you even listening?"

Waving his hand in the direction where he guessed his godfather was, Harry managed to convey the point that he was listening and yes, he understood, thank you very much, and would Sirius please just let him find his damned glasses because he couldn't see a thing. Harry felt immensely pleased he had managed to get his point across in just a few waves of his hand when he felt Sirius step back and fall silent, then as an afterthought, mutter "Accio," and place the missing spectacles into his godson's feebly groping hand.

Jamming his glasses thankfully back onto his face, Harry blinked up at his sheepish looking godfather from his sprawled position on the floor. He was alive, and looked so much better, and he was here, in the flesh. Scrambling up, he threw himself into the welcoming, open arms, and hugged tightly as he felt the much taller man embrace him back.

But just as suddenly, he realized that he was being weak again, and let go of his godfather. Sirius, confused, automatically let go of him as well; he took the opportunity to step back, his wall up again in an instant. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He had been out of his mind with joy and relief seeing that Sirius was safe, so much that he had forgotten that Sirius would never be safe as long as he was with Harry. But it was good to see Sirius healthy and well, Harry had to admit.

The look of hurt on Sirius's face cracked his wall a little, though, so he hastily scrambled for something else to talk about, and found it. "Sirius? What did you do to them? I'd have thought they and everyone else in Gryffindor Tower would have rushed here by now." Harry indicated the four-poster beds, all with curtains drawn, with a sweep of his hand.

Sirius blinked. "Oh. That. I just cast a simple sound barrier on each bed, then around this whole room. The boys in here, and everyone else out there, can't hear anything that happens as long as we stay between the beds and the door. Just in case we make noise, see," he explained sheepishly.

"I see. Well, now that you've seen me, you can go," Harry said curtly, guessing correctly the reason his godfather had come. He had had enough of being talked at. What did they know, the lot of them? Sure, they knew about the guilt he felt, but that barely skimmed the surface. Now, his Pianist was a different matter, he understood entirely what Harry felt...

He realized Sirius was speaking and forced himself to listen. "...and I've even brought you breakfast, look. I was thinking maybe we could catch up with each other over food? I'm hungry, and I bet you are too. Oh, and have you seen my collar? Cool, isn't it? You should have seen the look on Remus's face..."

Looking at the cheery grin on Sirius's face and the exuberant way he rambled on, Harry could see through his act to the worry and deep concern underneath. He felt another pang in his heart for worrying the closest thing he had ever had for a father, even more than kind Professor Lupin, but it was for the best. Steeling himself, he cut Sirius off mid-ramble.

"Look, Sirius. I know you mean well. But I don't need help. Leave me alone." He didn't add the part he always felt like saying out loud: I'll do my part in the world and defeat evil, yadda yadda, and then I'll go off and die a pathetic miserable hero's death after seeing everyone who cares about me die.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, seeing Sirius's composure finally broken, seeing him cringe and deflate, seeing the pain and hurt finally surfacing, a hurt so poignant that it shook Harry for a moment. This was Sirius, his godfather, his dad's best friend, his confidante – but no. Even his parents had died because of him. He wasn't going to let his determination waver just because of some hurt feelings. He would be grateful to be alive, in the end, grateful that Harry did what he did.

He pushed past the pleading hand held out to him. Putting his Firebolt, flute and wand back where they belonged, grabbing the stuff he needed – clothes, toiletries, etc. – from his drawers, and all the while ignoring Sirius, he tried to enter the bathroom. But when Sirius blocked him, determined to solve the problem once and for all, he finally snapped. His wall was breaking, he had to be final, and there was no other way. Turning his gaunt face to Sirius, a face that now resembled how the other man used to look as a convict, with hollow eyes and prominent bones, he said in a low, cold tone, "Leave me the hell alone. I've had enough of all you people. Just shove off.."

Harry forced his way past a stunned Sirius, frozen to the spot like stone, and shut himself in the bathroom, the click of the lock a final, decisive sound. He didn't see the way Sirius clenched his fists and slowly drop to the ground, eyes tightly shut, pain in every line of his face. He didn't hear the anguish in Sirius' voice as the older man whispered, "James, Lily... I'm sorry. I've failed you. I wasn't there to look out for Harry, and now... Harry... I've failed you." He didn't hear the way, after the spells had been taken off the room, The sad whimper that Padfoot let out, sorrowful black eyes gazing at the bathroom door. He didn't feel the air of self-loathing and despair that hung around the black dog as it padded quietly out of the dorm.

If he had witnessed it all, Harry's wall would have no choice but to fall under that sort of attack. As it was, he was drowning himself underneath the shower, letting the jets of water punish his aching body, hating himself for doing that to someone who loved him so deeply, like the father he had never known. But as always, he justified it with the knowledge that Sirius would be safe, like everyone else.

He stayed there for half an hour, washing up, before stepping back out into the dorm. Pocketing his wand, he dried his hair with a quick spell, and picked up his schoolbooks for the day. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tray of food that Sirius had left. Warm, thick, creamy mushroom soup, still-crisp waffles with butter and honey just the way Harry liked it, some cold water to wash it down, and apple slices. Harry stared at it. There were even funny faces floating around the tray, some spell he had dug up no doubt... Sirius had put quite some effort into it. Harry owed him one, he knew he had hurt him deeply...

For the first time in two years, Harry sat down (on the floor, but that didn't matter) and had a proper breakfast. He hesitantly lifted the spoon and drank some of the rich soup, then fell on the meal. It took him only three minutes to finish the generous helpings; he hadn't eaten for so long. Only ONCE shall I do this, and it's only because Sirius went to all this trouble for me, Harry warned himself. No more. I mustn't let myself get used to this, because I don't deserve it. And I'll eat less later, to make up for this.

But all that aside, he was feeling better this morning. Perhaps it was because of the meal; perhaps it was because of the Pianist. It was a small detail, hardly noticeable, but it was still there, and it was a start.

Remus stroked Padfoot's thick silky coat, comforting without words. The big dog had just padded into the room and one look at him told Remus all he needed to know. He had knelt on the floor, arms open in welcome, and Padfoot had huddled to him, head on his lap, shuddering. Remus understood what he felt, because he had felt the same way too, many times.

Finally the dog raised his head and gave a little huffing sigh. He nuzzled Remus, who said softly, "Don't blame yourself, Sirius. If somebody's to blame, it's me. I've been here since the start of this year and I couldn't do anything. So don't blame yourself. I know you."

Padfoot looked at Remus silently, and the werewolf sighed. "I'm serious – I mean, I mean it." The dog dipped its head with a small whuffing sound, like dog laughter. "You have to go soon, you know. Don't let this affect your work. I promise, I'll try my best to help him. You know that."

Padfoot looked at Remus with total, complete, giving trust in his eyes. He nudged the slim man with his nose, then got to his feet. Wagging his tail lightly, he gave Remus a small lick before padding to the door. The werewolf got up as well and opened the door for him. "I'll send you out, so in case the students ask, I'll say you're a stray that I'm returning to the wild."

The dog nodded, a curious action on an animal, and side-by-side, the two Marauders made their way down the Hogwarts corridor.

Harry left the tray outside the big painting that was the entrance to the Hogwarts kitchen, not wanting to go inside and face the squeals of the house-elves. Now he had a full hour to kill before lessons. Might as well go to the library and return the spell-book he had borrowed – he had already learnt all the spells in there, and he should borrow new material to study. He wanted to learn as many as he could, so that he wouldn't be useless when fighting Voldemort, since that was the only thing he could do – the only thing left for him to do. That was also why he had been illegally borrowing books from the restricted section, using some handy silencing spells and his ever-faithful Cloak.

Nodding to Madam Pince, who curtly nodded back to the student that she had seen countless of times these last two years, Harry placed his book on the desk with a murmured 'thank you' and headed toward the bookshelves. He usually went back to sleep for an hour or two, but his meeting with Sirius had gotten him wound up and too troubled to sleep. This happened sometimes, and when it was a quarter to nine, Ron and Hermione showed up at the library, knowing where to look for him from experience.

And sure enough, Harry was sitting at a remote, almost hidden corner of the library, looking through a few books. He didn't look up when they stood beside him, awkwardly shuffling their feet. It was Hermione who spoke quietly, so as to not incur the Wrath of the Deadly Librarian. "Hey, Harry, it's a quarter to nine, and we didn't see you in the Hall, so we were thinking maybe you want some breakfast?"

"Eaten." Harry didn't elaborate, and he ignored the disbelieving looks sent in his direction. He didn't add 'go away', since the two Gryffindors could be very deaf and very stubborn when they wanted to.

"Ah... okay. Eaten. As in... ate. Food." Ron paused at Harry's cold nod and exchanged a This-Is-A-Good-Sign-Right-? look with Hermione. They shrugged at each other and turned back to Harry, who picked up two books and pushed past them to walk to the counter. Trailing after him, the two watched as he borrowed the books and then stuffed them in his bag. Going back to the table he had used, Harry set about putting the other books back, helped by Hermione (who was familiar with the library herself; Ron just stood and watched). Her efforts were rewarded with only a muttered, "Thanks. But I don't need help."

And so, the trio went off to the first class of the day, which was double Potions with the Slytherins ("I hate Tuesdays." "Yes, Ron." "I really, really hate Tuesdays." "Shut up, Ron." "Did I mention I hated Tuesdays?" "I'll hex you, Ron, I really will."). They seemed to have almost all what they termed the 'important' classes with the Slytherins – DADA, Potions, and Transfiguration, even CoMC, and for Hermione and Harry who had just joined last year after the O.W.L.s, Astronomy, but thankfully not Ancient Runes. The two walked beside and slightly behind the green-eyed boy, who for all his pale gauntness had an air of command around him that made people instinctively move out of his way as he walked down corridors.

Arriving in the cold dungeons five minutes early, they found seats at the back of the classroom and began setting up everything they needed. Everyone else was already there, quietly doing the same. Suddenly the door burst open and in strode Professor Snape, silencing even the quietest of whispers with the particularly pissed look on his face. A Slytherin nearest to the door jumped up and shut it before returning quickly to his seat.

Snape glared around at the class. What's got into him? Ron wondered, eyeing the Potions master. He looks like he's in an even worse temper than ever.

He soon found out.

"In an effort to – to promote inter-house so-called friendships," the Professor said coldly, "the Headmaster has decided on a plan, that in my class will not induce any more animosity than there already is or there will be hell to pay." He glared at the class again, noting the get-to-the-point-already looks on the student's faces. Fine.

"In every single lesson from now on, and I don't mean just Potions, you will be paired with a student from the other house." Five, four, three, two –

"WHAAAAAT!" Half the class shot to their feet, yelling outrage, while the other half either froze in their seats, too shocked to move, or slumped to the floor. Snape noted that both Potter and that Granger girl, together with Draco, Pansy and Blaise, were part of the 'frozen' group, while predictably, Weasley was on his feet, red in the face and pointing accusingly in the direction of the Slytherins while yelling something that was lost in the overall noise. Longbottom was on the floor, a look of despair on his face, not surprisingly. He pitied the Slytherin who had to work with him. But for now...

"SILENCE!" he roared, and got it immediately. Everyone froze and then dropped back into – or pulled themselves back onto, as in some cases – their chairs. "This is disgraceful. Ten points off Gryffindor and ten points each off Weasley and Finnigan for that vulgar gesture with their hands. Five points off Slytherin." That last sentence was forced out of his mouth, but it had to be done.

"Now, I will read out the pairs and I want you all to be seated with each other in five minutes. The girls move, the boys stay put." He pulled out a roll of parchment and began rattling off names to groans and muttered curses as people hurriedly began packing their stuff. "Brown and Crabbe, Patil and Rhimes, Jordan and Goyle, Granger and Malfoy, Finnigan and Bulstrode, Longbottom and Davis, Weasley and Parkinson, Potter and Zabini. Potter, move."

Disgusted glances were exchanged as everyone scrambled to settle down before the five minutes were up. Harry unwillingly dumped his belongings next to Zabini's, seeing that the other boy made no move to get up and walk over. He supposed that he should be glad he wasn't working with a girl, and that it wasn't Malfoy he had to pair. Zabini he could handle.

Snape set them to making a potion that was complicated enough to need two people doing it at the same time. A few curt sentences to each other had Harry chopping up wings into exactly equal slices and Zabini mixing and measuring other ingredients after they had prepared the basic potion. Their tone when speaking to each other was polite and distant, and they finished the potion perfectly without any incident. Which was more than they could say for the others, besides Hermione and Malfoy, who had also gotten their potion perfect.

When the lesson ended, Tracey Davis had her head in her hands while her partner Neville looked close to tears due to their bright yellow potion, which was supposed to be dark blue. At least the cauldron was still whole, for Davis was almost as good as Malfoy. Snape deducted points from Neville for not helping much. Crabbe and Goyle, not much smarter than they looked, had Lavender and Kassia Jordan frustrated, and five points off Slytherin and twenty off Gryffindor. And Seamus, paired with Millicent Bulstrode who was as poor at Potions as he was, had ended up with sticky purple goo splattered all over them and twenty points off Gryffindor for exploding their cauldron. They had to stay back and skip lunch to clean the dungeon.

And as for Ron...

"That girl is the most annoying thing I have ever met! She squeals and whines and made me do all the work while she stirred and the worst thing of all is that I get blamed for not doing the ingredients properly and ruining her potion! I wonder how the Slytherins can stand her! She's so totally fake, and she gushes over Malfoy non-stop, and when she's not doing that she's threatening every single person who even looks at him cross-eyed! Please don't tell me these pairings are permanent, I'll die!" Ron fumed, gesturing wildly to emphasize his point, and almost taking Hermione's eye out. "I need something cold to juice. Lots of it."

And he got just that, gulping down glass after glass of juice ("This tastes good, anyone know what it is? The house-elves have been experimenting lately, I've noticed.") and chomping on his food. Harry ate even less than usual, then pushed his plate away and took out a library book. Hermione noticed, and said pleadingly, "Harry, please eat more." He ignored her, and she sighed and stabbed miserably at her own plate. Ginny, next to her, squeezed her hand comfortingly, while Ron grimaced and cast an anxious glance at Harry. Seamus tried to lighten up the mood by telling a very dirty joke, which he put Harry's name in, and everyone either laughed heartily (a little forced, though) or exclaimed "Seamus!" in a scandalized tone.

Harry looked up at Seamus. "Shut up, Seamus. If you're trying to make me laugh, don't."

That was the longest speech the Gryffindors had ever heard from Harry for a long time, and Seamus took it as a good sign, regardless of the less-than-pleasant choice of wording. Grinning at Harry, he joked, "Hey, I was just sharing a joke. Making you laugh? I'm not attempting the impossible and getting killed in the process, mate."

Harry tried to suppress it, but his lips twitched in a ghost of a smile.

And that silenced the entire Gryffindor table, who all stared at him with mouths hanging open, unable to believe their eyes.

Next half: Draco's turn to stun his house, and then our two boys leave the hall together. And some pretty fireworks.

Note: I didn't change much of this chapter… which is why it's still so clichéd and childish and rambling. I focused more on changing the next chapter, so please bear with this one? The rest are better.

Thanks to my reviewers – and in response to MikoGoddess, yes, I play the piano, and to Ruby Love: thanks for the OOC Remus comment, I'll work on it. Is he still OOC here? And to everyone else, like Nfinity and LenJade and Jjinks – thanks for keeping with the story! Hope it's still okay, and if it's not, like I said – please do stay until the next chapter.

Ashen Skies
"I'm serious – I mean, I mean it."