Um... I'm pretty annoyed at the moment, because every single of my fics has ground to a halt. This one... has 25 chapters and now it's stopped moving. Running the Gauntlet is too much of a trial to even try and write, all I know is that in the next chapter the Slytherin Quiddicth Trials take place. So, any suggestions will be so much more than welcome.

Happy Bonfire Night people!

(NB For American's reference Bonfire Night is when we Brits burn effigies of fanatical terrorists in mass funeral pyres around the country whilst setting off fireworks to recreate the martyrdom of a female saint. Someone called Guy Fawkes tried to blow up Parliament and King James exactly 400 years ago. We celebrate every 5th November with massive bonfires.)

Harry didn't see Draco again that day until Potions, during which Snape was even more acerbic than usual. He took it up himself to deduct points from Gryffindor at least once a minute, and didn't award any to Slytherin – his way of showing that he was angry with Draco.

However, it wasn't until Defence that he got a chance to talk to Draco.

"Has anything happened to you? To do with the potion?" he whispered as Lupin began talking.

"No. I'm beginning to think that it maybe hasn't worked or something. I don't eel any different at all. Pity. Being gods could have been fun."

"You didn't really expect it to work, did you?" Harry incredulously. "I thought we were just messing around."

"You doubt my ability in Potion-making?"

"Well no, but Snape said that it hasn't been successfully brewed for centuries."

"Do you trust him more than me?"

"He is the Potions Master."

"That's beside the point,"

"Gentlemen!"

Harry and Draco turned to face the front, Draco still glowering. Harry gave Lupin an innocent look, who returned it with an amused smile.

"As I was saying, this curse causes a state of lethargy that is sometimes fatal. As usual, I'll be performing it on each of you in turn, so you know what it feels like. All that will happen is that you'll feel very tired, and probably go to sleep. I have no intention of using the curse against you. So, doing this in alphabetical order, Mr Antares please."

Harry stood slowly and walked up to the front, where Lupin had conjured another bed. He climbed up and lay down, closing his eyes and waited for Lupin to cast the spell.

"Obdormiscero."

His eyes snapped open momentarily, then dropped shut. He could hear the faint sounds of the classroom around him, but they quickly faded as he fell asleep. A few seconds later he was awake again, trying to open his eyes, but only just managing to force them open halfway before they closed. Really, it was much more comfortable to keep them shut. They hurt a bit when he tried to open them. Again, the classroom drifted in and out of his hearing, but this time when it came back it was because he had felt an odd warm surge around where his kidneys were. By sheer force of will, he dragged his eyes open and made them focus on Lupin's face, who looked slightly surprised. Suddenly the curse was lifted, and he felt fully awake.

"Well, that was unprecedented." Lupin said as Harry sat up. "James nearly managed to throw the curse off."

Harry rubbed his neck as he stood and went back to his seat, feeling oddly alert. The feeling in his kidneys had gone and he watched, bored, as the rest of the class was put under the curse.

By the end of October, the only apparent side effects of the potion were the surges of warmth that occurred in his kidneys that gave him an extra boost of power. Other than that, nothing had happened – the same was true of Draco as well. He had tried talking to Cicatrix, seeing if he could connect with the phoenix on some sort of level, then realised how stupid it was, expecting a bird to talk back, and had stopped. Draco was having no more luck with snakes unless he took the Lingua Omni – something that he'd become accustomed to over the past two months.

Harry was – though he would not admit it to Draco – disappointed that the potion hadn't worked. It was a shame, especially when they had put so much effort in. Plus it would have been interesting to become gods.

He climbed out of the carriage as the stopped outside Hogsmeade and wrapped his cloak more tightly about himself. The bitter November wind was sharp and stung his face. Draco stepped down beside him and took Harry's right hand in his left, twining their fingers together.

"Where do you want to go first?" he asked, shivering.

"I don't mind," Harry replied. "Three Broomsticks for a drink?"

They trudged up the snow-covered path through the village, avoiding excited third-years that ran through the narrow streets armed with snowballs. Even though it was the third Hogsmeade visit, they still found it extremely exciting. He was sure he wasn't that bad.

Draco pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks and held it open for Harry, who stepped into the warmth. He moved to a table across the room and sat on the velvet-covered seat. Draco sat next to him and took off his gloves.

"Do you reckon she'll sell us Butterbang?" he asked, jerking his head towards Madame Rosmerta.

"How old do you have to be?"

"Well seventeen technically, but she'll sell us some if we can work the right charm."

"It's your birthday in just over a month, we'll be all right."

"OK then," Draco went up to the bar to order two Butterbangs. As Harry scrubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to warm it, Ron and Hermione came in. Ron caught sight of him. He whispered something to Hermione, who nodded and sat at a table on the opposite side of the room. Then he came over and leaned on the table that Harry was sat at.

"What?" Harry snapped at the red face glaring at him.

"Just noticed that you've got no friends, and thought I'd rub it in,"

"Why are you acting like this? This isn't how you used to be." Harry frowned.

"You wouldn't know that. Or would you? I still think there's something about you. I saw the way Dumbledore was around you when there was the attack. You've got some connection to Voldemort, haven't you? He took you and Malfoy off somewhere. Then Voldemort possessed you. There's something weird about you. And I'm not the only who's noticed. That's why you have no friends. Because nobody trusts you," Ron hissed.

"Is there a problem?" Draco asked mildly as he slid into the seat next to Harry and handed him a Butterbang. Harry scowled at Ron.

"No. No problem," he muttered. Draco's hand slipped under the table to rest gently on Harry's leg, reassurance that he was there. Ron sneered at him, so Harry took a gulp of Butterbang, trying to ignore him. His right hand was resting on the table, and he had an odd urge to grab Ron and throttle him.

"I'm not finished, Antares," Ron snarled. Harry felt a familiar warmth start spreading out form his kidneys.

"Please Ron, just go," he said, almost nervously. He wasn't sure what his magic would do if he suppressed it for too long. He could feel the wood of the table growing cold beneath his hand, and started shaking. Draco's hand on his leg squeezed gently.

"I'd advise you to leave, Weasley," he snapped. "You're agitating James."

Ron seemed to have noticed that the table was freezing over around Harry's hand, which occasionally emitted small golden sparks. With one last look that was both suspicious and frightened, he turned and marched over to where Hermione was waiting, no doubt to tell her what had happened. Draco lay his hand on Harry's on the table, and the ice that had frozen the table receded, but under Harry's hand the wood was rotten and dead.

"Do you want to go see Dumbledore about this?" he asked quietly, but Harry shook his head vehemently.

"It's nothing. I just need to keep it under control."

"You do realise that this is a side effect of the potion, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter. It's nothing big. I'll be fine,"

Draco didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter. They drank their Butterbangs in silence, and after a few minutes Harry's hand slipped under the table to rest on Draco's. He finished his drink and leant back against the wall. Draco raised an arm and he slipped under it, pressing his face into his chest.

"People are giving us funny looks," Draco remarked. Harry could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest.

"And?"

"I've never been given funny looks before,"

"Welcome to my world," Harry murmured. "Why, is homosexuality frowned upon in wizarding societies?"

"I think it's about the same as with Muggles. The purebloods don't like it because it's bad for procreation. Doesn't produce heirs. But it's not that uncommon. Don't worry."

"I'm not worrying," Harry protested.

"Fair enough. Where do you want to go next?" Draco asked, fingers sifting through Harry's hair. He pressed his lips briefly to Harry's temple.

"I don't mind. Wherever."

"That's not helpful,"

"Do I look like I care?"

"Not really," Draco admitted. "How about that joke shop the infernal twins have started? I hear it opened a few weeks ago. We could go have a look around."

"I doubt we would be welcome there." Harry snarked. "Unless you just missed the last exchange I had with a Weasley, it was hardly kisses and hugs."

"I doubt that they would refuse custom so willingly."

"They hate you!" Harry protested, hoping he wouldn't be offended. He wasn't.

"The feeling's mutual. But it could be amusing. Come on," he said, standing and pulling Harry to his feet. The walked out of the pub, and Harry shivered, pulling his gloves on. He was slightly surprised when Draco wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer, but didn't protest. The warmth his boyfriend offered was more than welcome, even if they did get weird looks for it.

The twins had put nearly everything Harry could remember up for sale, as well as many things he'd not heard of. Skiving Snackboxes, Fainting Fancies, those things that gave you nosebleeds, and all those others – the fireworks, the swamp that had earned them their dramatic escape from Hogwarts, and loads of other products. Draco insisted on buying at least one of most things, much to Harry's embarrassment, and he was dragged around the village for the next two hours carrying Draco's bags as he flitted from shop to shop like a butterfly, buying at least on thing in each shop.

"Damn, I've run out of money!" he exclaimed as a clear glass pen caught his eye. "Pity, that's a really nice pen," he moaned.

"I'll buy it," Harry said automatically. He picked the pen up and took it over to the cashier, handing over ten Galleons. Draco scowled as he admired it.

"You don't need to rub it in," he bit. Harry looked at him in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"You bought it just to spite me!" Draco complained.

"No, I didn't," Harry said with a laugh. "I bought it for you."

Draco stared at him, stunned.

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, you didn't have enough money left, and I've got plenty, and you seemed to want it quite badly, so I just thought that you maybe wouldn't mind if I…" he trailed off as Draco stared at him in disbelief. "Sorry," he said softly.

"No, don't be. Thank you, it's really nice," Draco said firmly, and kissed him quickly on the forehead. "I was just being a twat, ignore me."

"OK. I was just thinking for a moment that I'd done something wrong," Harry admitted, and Draco chuckled.

"Little James, so naïve." He teased, and Harry poked him in the ribs. Harry stepped away from him and started looking around the shop. He paused beside a cabinet that sold watches. Four caught his eye – a pocket watch with an obsidian face and numbers made of dragon's tooth, on a silver chain; a wristwatch with black leather strap, a silver face with the numbers carved in, and two that weren't really watches. The first was like Mrs. Weasley's kitchen clock – a pocket watch that you could charm to show various activities or places, and add hands of people as you wished. The other had no numbers or hands, but when Harry put it on his wrist white words appeared on the black face, proclaiming 'Time to buy a watch'.

For a good ten minutes he deliberated on which to buy. After many prods from Draco to get on with it, he eventually settled for the Weasley watch. He paid fifteen Galleons for it and slipped it into his pocket along with the instructions.

"I'm just going to some other shops, I'll meet you in the Three Broomsticks in half an hour," he said to Draco.

"I'll come with you!" Draco said brightly and started following him out of the shop.

"No, you're not," Harry growled. He pushed Draco back to the middle of the shop. "You're going to stay right here and amuse yourself for half an hour,"

"But I want to come with you!"

"Believe me, you don't," Harry reassured him.

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just know, all right?"

"Why, what are you going to do?"

"I'm not saying!"

"Tell me!"

"Fine!" Harry snapped. "I'm going to go get your birthday and Christmas presents,"

"Oh!" Draco said, and blushed. "Sorry. I'll stay here,"

"Yes, you will," Harry glowered, and stormed out of the shop. Muttering to himself, he stalked down the street and wandered in amongst the shops, looking for inspiration. He decided not to get Draco's Christmas present yet – he had one more Hogsmeade weekend to get it in – but this was his last chance before his birthday. He paused outside Zonko's and peered in. He could possibly get something here. Moving inside and to the back of the shop, something caught his eye. Three packs of ten pencils was sat on one of the shelves in the corner. They looked fairly uninteresting. He couldn't read the name, but the slogan was clear enough – 'Bring your drawings to life!' it proclaimed. Frowning, Harry turned the pack over. It was faded beyond belief, but there was a date of manufacture printed on the bottom along with various details.

1973.

"May I help you, sir?" asked a voice very close to his ear. He jumped, and turned, nearly dropping the pencils. The shopkeeper saw what he was holding and smiled mysteriously.

"Ah, yes. I found those in the back storeroom a few days ago. They didn't sell very well when we first produced them – nobody seemed to realise their full potential. Will bring any drawing to life, though," he reassured, giving Harry a hopeful look.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, but can you remember anyone who bought these pencils first tie around?" Harry asked politely. He had a niggling feeling.

"Why yes. James Potter and Sirius Black bought some, and kept coming back for more! I think they understood true quality when they saw it,"

Harry grinned, suspicions confirmed.

"How much are they?"

Having bought all three packs and several rolls of enchanted parchment, Harry walked out of the shop ten minutes later feeling extremely satisfied. He had the means now, he was sure of it, to produce another Marauder's Map. With a slight bounce in his step, he progressed to the next shop. He wasn't one to buy one expensive thing for presents – he preferred to buy lots of little things. The more random, the better.

He stepped into the jewellers, and cast his eye around the rings available. He saw one specific one that was rather cheap – only three Galleons – and took a closer look. It was a plain silver band. He bought it and pocketed the small bag, moving onto a small shop he had discovered during the fifth year that sold precious stones and crystals. Feeling like splashing out, he bought two grams of minuscule emeralds and one gram of obsidian, then wandered out again, buying more and more little things.

"You're late," Draco admonished as he stumbled into the pub half an hour later.

"Sorry,"

See? It's just slowing down. Another five or so chapters and it slows right down.

Reviews are nice but by now you know the whole plead so I'll settle for just "Reviews are nice."

And again, "Reviews are nice."

Hmmm... yeah, all the following description of Harry's power are actually inspired by the film "Princess Mononoke", from the Studio Ghibli team. Excellent film.

I really can't be arsed...

Suggestions for Running the Gauntlet (info at top) will be LOVED BEYOND RECOGNITION!

smokey

wants you to die now.