Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. This story is a response to the Severitus Challenge.

Chapter seven: Diplomacy

Occlumency was rather like Yoga, if he were to believe the only book he found about it in the library that wasn't in the Restricted Section. Aunt Petunia had been part of a Yoga group some years ago and he had seen her practice. She just sat in lotus position on a carpet, hand on knees, sometimes with a relaxing music… she always seemed much calmer after that.

Well, Harry decided it couldn't hurt to try. So there he sat, on a Saturday morning, in an old classroom of the third floor, alone. It really wasn't difficult to be alone these days. Ron and Hermione were hanging more and more closer, even if they didn't seem to realise it, and Harry was often awkward besides them. So he just left them, most of the time. Anyway, he had things to do.

Learning occlumency. Well, with all that in his mind, he wasn't going to achieve it. It was useless. Each time he closed his eyes, too many thoughts occupied his mind and he couldn't concentrate. He just couldn't think of nothing…

But he had to. Breathe. Slowly. In, and out. In, out. In, out…

He realised it was easier when he didn't close his eyes, so that he could see the floor or the bare wall. He just had to proceed by stages. First, he would try to concentrate on one thing only, and then he could try to think of nothing.

One thing then. The floor. The image of the floor occupying all his mind. The stones, their coldness under his hands, their irregular form… he concentrated only on the floor. When he felt relaxed enough, he closed his eyes. He didn't need them open anymore. The sight was a distraction. He closed them, and immediately the other senses compensated.

The faint odour of rain, the wind's whirling, the contact of his legs upon the floor… he gradually became more aware of that. He concentrated in it. Funny how many things you discovered once you paid more attention to them. The wind, for example. When you listened, really listened to it, it seemed like a voice, telling him many things about his environment.

If he concentrated, he could perceived where it came from, where it went to. He could almost see it in his mind, picture it like a shadow whirling besides the castle's towers.

It seemed so alive. Moving, crying, screaming… Just like the turmoil Harry was in, after Sirius's death. And suddenly, Harry knew what to do to empty his mind. To let go of emotions. He imagined them, one by one, leaving his body to become part of the wind.

All he felt after losing Sirius. The guilt. The pain. The overwhelming despair. He let go, imagined it leaving his body, his mind, to escape from the open window, where it would continue to scream and cry and hurt but without affecting him.

Over and over, he let his emotions go, from the confusion and anger with Snape's behaviour, to the hurt he felt when his friends preferred to hang out without him…

And finally he was free. Peaceful. Not exactly with an empty mind, either. He wasn't thinking about nothing at all, as Snape had said. He just felt like nothing mattered anymore.

Why being angry with Snape? The only thing it would bring was more detentions and deducing points of Gryffindor.

Why mourning over Sirius? It wouldn't bring him back.

Why being hurt by his friends behaviour? He ought to be happy for them.

Why worrying about Malfoy's true allegiances? He would know soon enough. He just had to be careful around him since then.

Why worrying about his plan? It would work or it wouldn't, but no amount of stress would help.

"Hey Potter, what are you doing?"

All at once, Malfoy's voice broke his concentration and he opened his eyes. The Slytherin boy was carelessly leaning on the wall in front of him.

Malfoy couldn't learn about his occlumencie. What if he told Voldemort? He didn't even know how to do it yet, not without several hours of trance!

"Nothing, just a little relaxation. It's a common muggle practice, you know. Yoga, it's called."

"Really. Are you gonna sit there all day long or do you plan to go eating at some point? It's almost too late for lunch in the Great Hall, you know."

"Already? I didn't notice it was so late… why aren't you there, then?"

"Well, I saw you weren't there so I thought, you know, that you and I could just ask for something in the kitchens and eat outside…"

"Huh. I'd love to go in a picnic with you, but it's raining, or didn't you notice?"

"My, my, you really were concentrating on that Yoga business, weren't you? It was raining earlier but the wind chased all the clouds and now it's all sunny! Perfect weather to go outside for a picnic. So, are you coming or not?"

"Sure. I needed a break anyway."

An house-elf named Tibby gave them enough food to last three days, and they ate near the Quidditch pitch.

"So, why were you all alone in there? Wesley and the Mud- Granger don't like Yoda?"

"It's Yoga and they had better things to do, like spending countless hours not kissing and not hugging and pretending they're happy with being just friends."

"That bad huh?

"Yeah. I can't stand to be around them, these days."

"I never did…"

"You used not to stand me either, not so long ago."

"I still don't."

"Really. That explains why you suddenly wish to have a picnic with me, then."

"What, you don't invite people you can't stand to eat with you?"

"Not unless I plan to poison the food, no."

"Like I would cook. The elves did. I couldn't have poisoned it."

"Which is why I agreed to come."

"You don't trust me not to poison you? I'm hurt, Potter."

"I don't trust Slytherins."

"Slytherin doesn't mean evil, you know."

"No, but it does mean cunning and plots inside plots, doesn't it? As long as I don't know which side you're on, I won't fully trust you."

"Fair enough. But why did you come, if you don't trust me? Why did you hide me on the train, and why do you still agree to talk to me?"

"If you really are trying to distance yourself from the Death Eaters, it would be stupid to throw you back to the lions, wouldn't it? I'd like to give you a fair chance."

"A fair chance for what? Prove I'm a good guy? Sorry to hurt your little Gryffindor heart, Potter, but I'm not."

"Sure. You're as evil as they come."

"Yeah. I am. I'm just not the Lord's slave, is all."

"Then why the hell are you hanging out with me? What are you trying to do?"

"Oh, surely you can guess. Come on, three shots. If you don't find out, you'll have to do my DADA homework for next week."

"Fine. But if I do find out, you're gonna do my Potions homework for Monday."

"You still didn't do it? Okay, fine, whatever. Come on, guess! Or try, anyway…"

"Hum. You're so afraid of your Slytherin fellows you think you can use all the help you can get?"

"Yeah, there's that. But come on, you can do better than that…"

"You're secretly in love with me and you paid these guys to make me think you were in trouble so that I would pity you enough to see you in a new light and suddenly realise that…"

"OK STOP this nonsense already, please."

"Fine. Your loss."

"You still have one guess."

"Hum. Well, I hate to state the obvious but maybe you're just trying to get my trust so that you could throw a knife on my back or something. I'm thinking maybe you're more likely to throw a Portkey into my hands but hey, who knows these days?"

"Potter, The Dark Lord wants my head as a Christmas present. I'm hardly looking for ways to please him."

"You could be looking for my head to offer him as a "return-in-his-good-graces" present."

"D'you really think that? 'Coz if you do, I really don't know what I'm doing HERE!"

"Wait! I never said I believed it. I just don't know! What do you expect me to do? Trust you because you behaved for the last week, after everything you did the last five years?"

"Well, why not? You're a bloody Gryffindor, that's part of your job. Kind heart, forgiveness, stupidity, credulity…"

"Yeah? And you're a BLOODY Slytherin, aren't you? Never doing anything without planning the ten moves coming next, without lots and lots of shadowed reasons… how can I trust you, Draco? Tell me how."

"Then don't. I certainly won't kneel before you to make you trust me. Now leave me alone. Your loss."

What the Hell was that about? Harry wondered while Draco headed back to the castle. So, he had questioned Draco's loyalties. Well, he wasn't fool enough to just trust him out of the goodness of his heart. He needed proof. The Slytherin boy just had to accept that.

Maybe he would talk to Snape about Draco. Yeah, it took a Slytherin to understand a Slytherin.

As if he ever planned to talk to Snape willingly. He snorted at the thought. The man resented him for living, there was no way they could ever have a civilised conversation.

The next Thursday at nearly eight o'clock found Harry making his way to Snape's office, as usual. He was a little anxious. Now was the final test. If he could manage to ignore Snape's taunts, it would mean he had made progress. He had practiced occlumency as much as he could this week, neglecting all his assignments except Potions in order to do so. He found it incredibly time-consuming, but he thought it was getting better with each try. It also helped him sleep, and improved his mood greatly.

He also had time because he didn't have anyone to hang out with, he thought bitterly. Malfoy ignored him royally, Ron and Hermione were still much too preoccupied with each other, and Ginny was studying hard for her OWLs… And with MacGonagall missing, apparently taking care of her granddaughter, there were a lot of holes in his timework.

He didn't have time to pursue this thought as he was grabbed from behind, shut forcibly into a wall and deprived of his wand. He tried to fight the tight grip they hold him in but couldn't. He realised he was held by Crabbe and Goyle, and saw Pansy Parkinson just in front of him, holding his wand, and a little ball.

"Potty, Potty. Don't take it too personally, but our Master is really getting anxious to get you. He gets tired of your bad habit to escape his grip and wishes us to bring you to him. You see, this little ball is a Portkey, and it will lead you directly where he resides…"

"Stupefy!" "Stupefy!" "Stupefy!" Harry heard, and suddenly he was free. Taking his wand back (with care to avoid touching the Portkey), he walked towards his rescuer and raised an eyebrow when he finally saw who it was. But before he could say anything to Malfoy, he was gone.

Sighting, Harry just went to Snape's office as he originally intended to. As he stepped in, he thought oddly that Snape looked relieved to see him, but dismissed the thought immediately as stupid.

"You're late" Snape said, stating the obvious. It was ten past eight.

"Sorry sir. I just met an unwelcoming committee in my way here." He tried to sound casual, when he was in fact terrified. If it wasn't for Malfoy, he would be at Voldemort's feet right about now.

"What happened?" asked Snape, more concerned than he wished to admit.

"Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson seemed very intend to make me touch a little red ball. Turns out it was a Portkey. It seems that Uncle Voldie wishes to see me…" he abruptly stopped, seeing how pale Snape had become. "Are you alright sir? Sir?"

"What? Yes, of course. Just glad you're not harmed, is all. How did you escape, then?"

"I had… help."

"From whom? Were your friends following you?"

"Kinda. I don't really know." Could he consider Malfoy a friend? The boy had obviously been following him. No way he was there by mere chance.

"What do you mean, you don't know? Explain!"

Well, he had been meaning to talk to Snape about Malfoy, hadn't he? A Slytherin to understand a Slytherin… here was the chance.

"What do you think about Draco Malfoy, sir?"

"You can't possibly be implying that he saved you from that Portkey, can you?"

"Well, in fact he did."

He took the raised eyebrow as an invitation to go on.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about it. I thought maybe you could help me understand him better, with you two being Slytherins and all…

"You see, it all began in the Hogwards Express. I was sitting in a compartment alone and Malfoy just stormed into it, looking rather scared, to hide from his classmates. I chased them off, then got to hear the entire story. From what he said, Voldemort wants to offer his head to his father, because he is unsatisfied with how Lucius handled a mission he gave him. "

He didn't feel like to mention that the mission was the fiasco that cost him his godfather. Snape gave him a deep look but said nothing.

"Since then, Malfoy has been popping around when I least expect him to. His latest idea was to take me out for picnic, but we had a fight and didn't talk since. Then, he just saved my skin and left without waiting for a thanks."

"Interesting. It would seem that he doesn't wish you to be handed to The Dark Lord. Maybe he doesn't want to follow in his father's steps anymore. However I must warn you to be extra cautious with him at all times. We do not know for sure that he doesn't mean you harm."

"Yes sir."

"Well, then, I've got exam papers to grade, so I'll leave you to your potion making. The instructions are on the table."

Snape left, and Harry began to make the potion he was to this week. Halfway through, it occurred to him that Snape and him just had their first entirely civilised conversation. Perhaps all hope wasn't lost, after all…

After class the next day, Harry was fed up with Malfoy, who was still avoiding him like the plague, and decided to follow the blond when he saw he wasn't headed to Slytherins' quarters.

In fact, he was headed towards the seventh floor. There, hidden behind a tapestry, Harry saw Draco pacing in front of a bare wall three times. A door appeared and the blond entered in the Room of Requirements.

Harry hesitated a little, but entered anyway. The room was bare, except for a fireplace and two seats. As soon as he was inside, Draco's voice, coming from the one of the seats, said:

"You took your time!"

"You knew I was following you?" asked Harry.

"Why else would I come in here? And you weren't exactly sneaky. Wrong house, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, well we can't all be perfect Slytherins, can we?"

"What did you want, Potter?"

"To thank you, for the other day, I guess."

"That's all? Well, it's done. Now you can get out."

"I also want you to stop avoiding me."

"If I was avoiding you, I wouldn't let you follow me in here. What do you want, Potter?"

Unexpectedly fed up with the way Draco kept calling him Potter, Harry walked to the fireplace and sat on the other seat, in front of the Slytherin.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, keep me apprised."

Draco stood up and turned around as if to leave, but Harry held his wrist.

"I may not know what I want, but I do know that I don't want you to leave."

"Fine, Lord Potter." He sat again. "Is there any other thing I can do to please my Lord?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"What, my Lord?"

"No, Potter."

"Well, that's your name."

"Yeah, but my friends call me Harry."

Draco glanced up in Harry's eyes, his own insecure and suspicious at the same time, searching for some kind of treachery. They found none.