Hello again awesome readers. Thank you so much for the love. I hope the chapter makes up for the long wait. Shout-out to the awesome, incredible people who are mykkila09 and SensiblyTainted for their amazing feedback that helped shape this chapter.

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Now onto the story

Chapter 45: Revelation in its' Clarifying Glory (part 1)

When they returned to the Manor, Narcissa escaped into the privacy of the small parlor room on the second floor. A private place meant only for family and very few trusted friends. One of her favorite rooms in the house not only for its comfortable feel but also for the pictures adorned there, lined along the top of the mantel.

Narcissa stood in front of the fireplace, toying with the gleaming blue-crystal teardrop gem of her necklace as she studied the pictures.

The first one, the farthest on the left, was of her on her wedding day, dressed in elaborate lacy white with her new husband by her side. There were no smiles on either on their faces since her mother believed they were beneath her. Yet the adoration shining through the fresh-faced, twenty year old's eyes made up for it as she slowly peeled her gaze away from the camera to look over at her husband. Dazzled by his beauty, hopeful that the marriage wouldn't only be a manageable one but a happy one as well. Perhaps even loving. Lucius didn't look at her or even smile, but he pull her closer to him, which she remembered taking as a good sign.

Her eyes drifted over to the next picture. A group of four children playing underneath a stream of falling autumn leaves. The two girls were as different as night and day with one curly dark-haired and dark-eyed, the other blonde-haired and blue-eyed. The two boys, on the other hand, looked so much alike with their pale complexion and dark hair that they could pass as twins. The two girls were holding hands as they spun around, the boys tossing discarded leaves at them and at each other, utter joy beaming on each of their faces.

A smile began to lift her mouth as she watched the scene, and then fell as heaviness began to pile onto her chest. Remembering how close those four children were and it all fell away.

Sighing, she moved onto the next picture.

The two girls from the previous one no longer children but young women, joined by another girl by the blonde girl's right. All three of them dressed in pastel colors, eyes cool, smiles flat. The two girls laughed and danced in the other other picture but were strangers in this one. They stood close but it was hard to miss the way the blonde inched away from the brunette, her smile practially nonexistant, and how the brunette's lips pursued from the gesture. Such a contrast to before.

While the brunette and the blonde hardly shared a resemblance, the brunette and the other girl certainly did. Similair facial features, same nose, same chin. As similair as they were, there were also slight differences that seperated them. One's face was softer, the other's sharper. One's girl dark hair the color of dark chocolate and pinned back with barrettes and the the other's black as night and wild. And there was something sinister lurking in her dark eyes as her smile widened.

A chill running her spine, Narcissa swallowed down and moved onto the next picture.

A family portrait taken last Christmas. Lucius seated on a silver chair that was designed as a throne. Narcissa by his right, hand on his shoulder. Draco by Lucius's left, Harry by her left. The two teens managed to keep their faces neutral as they stared straight, but a shared glance caused bits of mischief to slip through the cracks, their smiles small but warm with affection, eyes bright.

Next to that picture was one of those same mischievous boys as children, laughing as they ran through the gardens before collapsing onto the ground, lying side by side. Their clothes stained with grass and mud, hands clasped together, eyes locked onto each other like there was nothing else they'd rather look at.

My boys.

Narcissa released her hand from the gem to brush her hand over the picture. The blonde child who had rose in his cheeks, the brunette child with light in his eyes, both looking so happy. So incredibly happy that it was heartbreaking to know what the future will do them. Had already done to them.

"What. The. Hell. Are you doing here?" The words weren't made into an exploding scream but they did hold a sharp anger seething through each word that was just as frightening. The low tone of his voice added more of an effect to it.

She may not have expected the non-scream, but she anticipated some form of refusal from her cousin which he didn't fail to deliver as she came through the living room. Her eyes glanced around the room, eyeing the dust and webs. "I've seen done things to the place."

Sirius glared at her.

"Though perhaps I'm being too generous and should switch things to nothing," she commented. "Certainly not cleaning."

"Please give me one reason why I shouldn't hex you right now?"

Narcissa raised an eyebrow to him. "Other than the fact I'd easily disarm you and knock you flat on your arse like I did when we were children," He glowered at her and she continued. "Well, I doubt the Ministry will take too kindly to it, especially given how you're already on thin ice with most of the employees there."

"Thus my question: what the hell are you doing here?" Sirius repeated.

"I'm here to see my see my godson."

Sirius's nostrils flared. "Like hell you-"

Unfortunately for her dear cousin, the previous days had drained her of her patience. "Let's not forgot which one of us the Ministry trusts more and who they trust least between the two of us," she reminded. "And how it will take is a few words from me to remove said person from the picture if he proves to be a nuisance."

Growls ripped through his throat, his body trembling in anger.

"Now," she said. "If you would be so kind to tell me where Harry might be."

The furious glare in Sirius's eyes told her there were a million other things he'd rather tell her instead, all colorful and scratching. But Narcissa met his furious glare with a cool one of her own that slowly melted the fire.

Finally, seconds later, Sirius lowered his gaze and mumbled, "Third floor, second door on the right."

Narcissa expressed her thanks through a nod, and went up the stairs. At the fifth step, Sirius said:

"Narcissa…You may not like what you see."

She blinked once, then turned over to her cousin. Sirius lost interest in her, pouring himself another drink. Which left Narcissa no other choice but to continue her walk.

She found the room easily but stood in front of it, hand on knob, recalling Sirius's words and bracing herself for what was to come. She took in a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

She knew from what Draco told her Harry went through quite an ordeal. She knew from Sirius's warning it was traumatizing. But they didn't prepare her for the silence, the pure silence that made her wonder if perhaps she got the wrong room. The bed was empty, the rumpled sheets proof that it was used. The silence was so heavy, chills crept up her spine from the lack of noise. She turned her eyes to the left, where she saw a lounge chair and a table piled with stacks of letters and packages. She turned over to the right, where the moonlight poured in through the wide windows and a lone figure sat in front of it, curled up in his chair.

"Harry?"

Silence.

She took a step into the room, her hand still on the knob. "Darling?"

Nothing.

Worry slithered through her stomach like a snake. Narcissa took slow steps toward him, the worried knots weaving themselves even tighter as she noticed his huddled form, his lack of movement, his silence.

She believed she could handle whatever it was. She thought the warnings were in vain but she quickly found nothing could prepare her for this.

It wasn't the way he held himself, knees up to his chin, arms wrapped around them, trying to make himself as small as he could be that was devastating, even though grief began to crack through her heart at the sight. It wasn't the way his complexion looked so ghastly, sickly pale, white as bone, as if he had been locked away inside the dark for the longest time. It wasn't the heavy bags layered underneath his eyes, so deep, so dark that she questioned when was the last time he actually managed to close them and keep them closed.

What shattered her heart into pieces was the look in his eyes. Vacant like a rundown house that had abandoned, empty of anything. Of emotion, of thought, and lost. So utterly, painfully lost like the events of the task stole everything from him: his strength, his sanity, his peace. Leaving him so hollow, so broken.

It was the hammer that delivered the blow to her heart. It was what made tears burn her eyes. It was what made her fall onto her knees.

"Oh my sweet boy," she murmured.

She placed her hand against his cheek, but it might as well as have been. Harry didn't notice. He didn't seem to feel it. He didn't stir, his vacant eyes staring right ahead.

"Bodies," he croaked, his voice dry. "So many bodies...so many secrets. I can't…I just…I can't."

A lump burning at her throat, Narcissa brought him into her arms and rubbed his back, alarmed with how light he felt. Apparently nightmares weren't the only thing he was suffering from.

"My sweet boy."

A shudder went through his body but he didn't lift his head or respond back.

She helped him stand and guided him back to bed, pulling back the sheets, lying him flat across the mattress, then tucking him in. She stayed close by his side and stroked his hair until his eyes finally closed.

She pulled back her hand and took out her wand. "Dormi," she murmured. A golden light emerged from the tip, producing a small butterfly that looked like it was made from smooth velvet. The butterfly fluttered over to Harry, landing on top of his head. It spread its wings and laid itself flat on his hair, releasing waves of energy that flowed through Harry's body.

He let out a small sigh and submitted himself to the spell, his breathing growing heavy.

Narcissa brushed his hair away to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Harry."

She walked quietly over to the door, head full, heart heavy.

"Night, Mum."

She let out a sharp breath as if the floor gave out underneath her feet, and turned back. Harry slept, one arm hanging off the bed, face untroubled.

She forced herself to walk out the room, to walk down those stairs, to walk pass her cousin and the drink he offered her and through the Floo. Each step adding more weight onto her heavy chest.

She forced herself to ignore the lump burning away at her throat and paste a smile onto her face as she informed her other boy Harry would need his space and that they'd both be leaving for France within an hour. And forced herself not to notice his fallen expression at the news that was just as heartbreaking as the other boy.

Narcissa sucked in a breath and swallowed down hard. She pulled her hand away from the picture and stepped away from the pictures, toying with the teardrop gem.

Perhaps there was more to the story. Maybe Lucius had done what he did to show face, to not raise suspicion.

"Mistress?"

Perhaps he had no choice.

"Mistress?"

But she had seen first-hand what absolute loyalty and servitude led to. Her eccentric older sister twisted into a cruel, ruthless killer. Her younger cousin tortured to death. Her friends killed for their defiance. There was a black smear attached to that servitude.

"Master Lucius would like to know if the Mistress would still join him for dinner?"

A black smear she refused to touch her boys.

"Inform the master that I won't be able to attend," she finally said. "I'll be stepping out for a bit."

"Um," the house-elf took a few steps closer to her, wringing his hands. "Where Mistress be going?"

Narcissa shot the creature a look that made it wince. "Out," she snapped, taking her leave.

The rest of the train ride, Draco and Harry stayed on the bench of their compartment, entangled together. Draco wasn't sure if it was because of the summer separation, the first one with zero contact, of if the new changes making everything seem so new, or if it was because of what took place earlier that still gave him shivers when he thought about it. All he knew was that he couldn't stop touching Harry. It was a familiar battle he'd been fighting against since puberty, but now he easily gave into its' wishes. His fingers tracing over Harry's bare skin, over the curve of his spine. He couldn't stop himself from brushing kisses onto Harry's head, cheeks, his nose, his chin, his neck. He was fascinated with the way Harry responded to his touch, closing his eyes tighter, biting his lip harder, leaning in closer.

It looked like Harry enjoyed being touched as much as Draco enjoyed touching .Yet as much as Harry seemed to enjoy it, there was a splash of the unease in the mix of his contentment, his body remaining tense, his eyes still hooded. It was because of that uneasiness that kept Draco from dropping kisses onto those lips as much as he wanted to. One that troubled him. One that reminded him there was still too much to talk about.

The closer they approached the castle, the more tension grew in the compartment, breaking the warm cocoon of their moment together, replacing it with jagged ice as memories from the past slipped in. The closer they came, the smaller Harry became, lost in that dark unreachable place.

When the time came for them to dress, they pulled away from each other and got on their feet. The sweat that built up from their intense reunion long since cooled down, but there were noticeable spots at the crotch of their pants. Draco's cheeks burnt and his stomach curled with heat as he wiped the spots clean with a quick spell. They kept their backs to each other as they dressed, almost as if they were unsure of how to act now they were apart. Or anxious if there would be a part two in their reunion.

Draco stole a glance at Harry. He was buttoning up his cloak, each button redone slowly and carefully, his jaw held tightly, his expression troubled and lost.

The two friends silently left the train together and walked out into the cool night. The first years were gathered at the other end of the train, led on by a woman instead of the giant. Draco wondered if the old goat decided to finally let him go.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as they waited for the last carriage. As one finally pulled up, occupied by a passenger focused on her paper that was turned upside down, Harry stopped short and stared at it, his eyes widening.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Don't you see them?" Harry said, taking a sneak peek at him before they turned back to the carriage. "That thing pulling the carriage?"

Pulling the…Brows arched, Draco looked to the front. There was nothing there but the cheap, leather interior of the carriage, the strange passenger whose face was concealed by the paper. "There's nothing there, Harry. The carriage is just pulling itself."

"But I….they…" Harry looked over at the carriage and shook his head. "Never mind. Let's go."

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice beside them. The two turned over as their fellow passenger pulled down her paper, revealing Lovegood's moony-eyed face. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."

"You can?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Lovegood said. "I've been able to able to see them ever since my first day here. They're always pulled the carriages." She smiled at them. "You're just as sane as I am."

Funny how those words brought little comment.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.

Just like Platform 9 ¾ it was a familiar sight.

However, as Lovegood drifted off to the Ravenclaw table, Draco noticed a few differences between the previous years and the new ones. Empty spots dotted here and there over at the tables, most noticeably a vacant spot at the Hufflepuff table that created a somber mood around them, and over at the staff table. And new faces, such as the woman on Dumbledore's left, talking into his ear.

She was an unfortunate-looking thing, like how someone pictured as an old spinster. Short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet, and they were greeted by the sight of a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

Vague familiarity stirred in Draco's face as he looked at her. Beside Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

Eyes locked on the woman, he answered, "That's Umbridge. I recognize her from Sirius's trial. She was the part of the jurors that didn't believe he was innocent-and made her opinions quite loud and clear." A scowl shaped his mouth. "Not to mention to fact she's also the one who's been trying to bury me in the papers."

Now Draco remembered her. A quick glance confirmed she was the pink-clad toad they saw in the sea of somber-faced jurors, and was even more ugly the last time they saw her.

So new faces, empty chairs-and stares. Almost every single pair of eyes turned over to Harry the second they walked in. Some making a point not to stare, most not even caring about subtlety, all entirely overwhelming. Draco felt overwhelmed being near it.

Harry took in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked in, ignoring the hundreds of eyes that followed his every move. He did let out a sigh that sounded like relief to Draco's ears as he walked beside him.

Harry was sandwiched between Blaise and Pansy on one side, his back to their gawking audience. Draco was sitting across from him with Theo and Daphne. Crabbe and Goyle squeezed closer to them, throwing sneers that managed to frighten the on-lookers.

Pansy made a face at the gawking buffoons, scoffing. "If they're going to stare, then they could at least be subtle about it."

Blaise shrugged. "Well, it's hard to subtle when a phenomena walks in."

"Thanks Blaise," Harry muttered dryly." Appreciate it."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, I wasn't talking about you, Potter. I was referring to me." He ran his fingers over his face. "It's so hard for the people to peel their eyes away from such beauty."

The comment brought on snickers and eyes-rolls from the friends.

"You are so full of crap, Zabini," Pansy said. "I'm stunned shite isn't bursting out from both ends."

Harry cracked a small smile at Blaise. Blaise shot him another wink. Draco gritted his teeth.

Conversation (and staring) dropped when the first-years entered into the Hall, lined up by threes, led by McGonagall who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed in the candlelight, a mixture of awe and excitement and anxiety. It was hard to believe that it was only four years that Draco and Harry were one of them, eager to start their new adventure, determined to make a mark onto the school. Well, at least Draco was, wanting to add his own mark onto the impressive Malfoy family tree. He knew Slytherin would be his house, there was no question about that. It was Harry he was worried about. Gryffindor seemed so perfect for him, and eleven year old Draco was terrified at the thought of losing his best friend.

He was relieved beyond all words that Harry was sorted into Slytherin instead, and touched when Harry told him the reason behind his sorting. Little did that eleven year old know, though, what the following years would bring them. The mayhem, the fun, the hardships-and-well, a deeper relationship between the two that went beyond friendship.

Although, Draco thought with another gaze directed at Harry, maybe that was how their relationship always was and they were too young to realize it.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

'Together we will build and teach!'

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest. '

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name, '

Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same. '

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you ...

Let the Sorting now begin.

There was a slight moment of pause before the applause, although for the first time, the applause were delivered with double-takes and comments concerning the hat and its' strange song.

"Well," Blaise said. "That was morbid."

"Here, here," Theo said.

Draco nodded in agreement. That song was a bit morbid-and eye-opening. From the look on the first-years, it did little to uplift them. If anything, it made them even more nervous.

Slytherin now had thirteen more snakes in its nest, even though some of them didn't look quite as glad. He had a feeling that welcoming song had something to do with it. After the last sorting was done, golden plates and cups and utensils popped in as mountains of food appeared on each table. Rice and baked potatoes, pasta and lasagna, chicken and steak. Throughout the feast, Draco studied Harry, noticing how his plate was only partially filled. He swallowed down a few bites, but mostly shuffled the food around.

At the last bite of pasta and last sip of bubbly juice, Dumbledore rose to his feet, greeted them with a smile, and launched into his usual typhoon of speeches. Welcoming the first-years into the school and reminding them of the rules, informing them all that Professor Grubbly-Plank will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons until further notice, and that-

"Hem, hem-"

A loud, pointed cough cut through his jabber.

Dumbledore looked just as put off by the interruption as the rest of them-put off and annoyed as he turned back.

"It seems my age is truly catching up with me," he tried to joke, but even he didn't look that amused. "We also have another new teacher who'll be with us for the rest of the semester. Miss Dolores Umbridge."

The pink-clad toad rose from her chair and joined the headmaster up on the front, oblivious to the lukewarm response from the students or the looks from the staff, especially the dark ones lighting in both McGonagall's and Severus's eyes.

"The Headmaster is far too modest," she laughed. Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish. A strong wave of dislike came over Draco as he listened to her. A glance over at Harry confirmed he wasn't alone in the feeling. "It's Madame Dolores Jane Umbridge, senior under-sectary of the Ministry of Magic. Who starting today shall be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Bafflement. That was only word that could describe the atmosphere in the room regarding the news.

Umbridge cleared her throat and clapped hands together, bringing them to her chest. "It's so lovely to be back at Hogwarts. And to be surrounded by such bright smiling faces."

More words met with silence and pinched faces from students un-amused to be talked down at like they were children. Umbridge stepped forward, unfazed.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike. She exchanged a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem," and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation ..."

At this point Draco stopped listening, along with a good portion of the students. Blaise didn't even bother to hide his lack of attention, using his propped elbow as a pillow to nap. Theo dived into another book. Pansy and Daphne snickered over her bright pink cardigan. Crabbe and Goyle snuck in more bites of the leftovers. And Harry-he just focused his attention on his plate.

When the toad was finally done with her speech, which to Draco's amazement turned out to be even more mind-numbing than the old goat, Dumbledore thanked her with a bow and took the stage as she returned to her seat. Once again oblivious to the lukewarm applause and the even colder looks most of the staff had on their faces as she passed by them.

It seemed there was a purpose to the sorting hat's song after all. The next of the man's speech involved it.

"I'd like each and every one of you to ponder on what the hat has shared with us tonight. As most of you know, centuries ago our great school was a merely a dream come to life by four young wizards and witches. Each brilliantly gifted, each different, and yet they were the best of friends. However as time went on, the original mission of unifying magic and Hogwarts being a safe haven for the gifted became overshadowed. By pride, by ego, self-interest, and secret agendas."

Either Draco was imagining it or Dumbledore's eyes were locked in at the Slytherin table, hinting as to who was at fault for the founders' fallout.

"Each house carries a value the founder took pride in. Bravery, creativity, loyalty, and ambition. Those differences,however, caused cracks and those cracks grew to gaping crevices and here we are centuries later: divine yet divided. Each house loyal to its own and conscious of the other three."

More like three houses conscious around each other and dead-set against one wearing green and silver colors, Draco thought bitterly.

"But we are entering dark times. Slowly but surely. And the call for unity has never been more great until now. I implore each and every one to ponder over the founders' story. Ponder and remember this. No matter what crest in pinned onto your chest, no matter of your house, no matter of your status, we are all human. We breathe the same, love the same, bleed the same, and in the end," A meaningful glance over at the empty spot at the Hufflepuff table. "We all fall just the very same. One way or another."

Whispers and sorrowful looks erupted from the words, glancing over from Diggory's empty space over to Harry. Harry glared down at his plate, hands curled into such tight fists; Draco could hear the skin breaking.

Look at me, Draco's glare demanded.

Harry stubbornly kept his head down.

"And to the fifth-years, I also encourage you all to start thinking about the future. As well as your NEWTs that shall be taken at the end of the year. I know it may seem like a lifetime now," Dumbledore smiled. "But I was young once and know easily procrastination can work. How time seems so faraway. The future right at your fingertips. However you will find quickly that time is no one's servant. It is controlled by no one. It waits for no one. Nor does life which can start so easily and be done so quickly." Those sparkling blue eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. Right at Harry. "And how loss of life and time can force one to take up arms and bear the weight of heavy responsibilities that he alone must carry."

Harry slouched further in his seat, Dumbledore's words heavy as a cross. Draco grinded his teeth. If the old man made one more jab towards their house or what happened last spring or at Harry, Draco refused to take responsibility for whatever sharp utensil flew out of his hand. Or whatever made perfect aim at one of the man's arteries.

"It is not just. It is not fair. But we all must do whatever must be done, no matter the cost. Or the sacrifice."

"I pity the poor fool has who this man speak at their wedding." Blaise muttered.

"Or their funeral." Goyle added.

A shudder went through them at the thought.

Harry didn't join in though. His mind stuck on Dumbledore's words, on Diggory's empty seat, on what happened and more that took him miles away from here. The tension winding his body so tightly, Draco could feel the stiffness from across the table.

Look at me, his eyes demanded.

Harry kept his head down, jaw clenched, fists tight, green eyes so distant.

Look at me!

As if his own fingers were placed against the boy's face, Harry lifted his head up and met Draco's eyes. Whatever thoughts that spun inside that messy-haired head of his were covered by a stone wall that blocked Draco's path. A thick, detached, unreadable stone wall.

Don't you dare hide from me! Draco screamed through his eyes. Not after being shut out. Not after a summer apart. Not after what just happened on the train.

I'm sorry, Draco managed to read before Harry put his head back down.

The rest of the speeches and announcements went over Draco's head. Whatever Dumbledore or Umbridge or whoever had to say was white noise to him. All of his attention was devoted to the boy sitting across from him but felt like he was millions of miles away, creeping back into that dark, vacant shell that terrified Draco as a child.

The second they were dismissed, Harry got up from his seat and bolted from the door. Draco tried to keep up with him but lost him in the halls where he was swallowed up by the horde of students.

Damn it!

"One must tread carefully when crossing the heart."

It was the dreamy tone that sustained Draco's surprise as he turned around to find Lovegood standing behind him. "What?"

"The heart," she repeated. "Strong as steel, complex as the stars, and brittle as ice. Choices must be made just and swift as cracks are impaled across the surface or risk drowning in the sea of despair and doubt."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco demanded.

Lovegood only replied, "You and Harry's hearts are well-matched, you know. Like two halves. Just as strong, just as complex, just as frail. Choices can either mend the halves together or break them into smaller pieces."

One last smile, Lovegood skipped down the hall to her dormitory. Draco stared after her and speeded over to the dungeons, to the Slytherin dorms, elbowing and shoving his way through.

As he walked over, his mind went over to Lovegood's words. And then to another strange blonde who always seemed to find him at the oddest of moments.

He knew it was a matter of time before Delacour sought him out. His defense class ended on quite a high note after his face-off with the bamboo and by noon, word about it had spread throughout the retreat like wildfire. Reaching person to person, room to room, floor to floor until Draco's name was on everyone's lips and minds.

His little show had brought on a range of different reactions. Satisfaction from the teachers and students who had to deal with his daily complaints of not being one of them. Shook from the students who were positive he wasn't and in hopes he'd finally be gone. Bafflement from his reaction and charge of power with some muttering that claws hadn't come in for them until after they came into their full inheritance.

Draco went straight to his room after class, the whispers and stares stinging his skin, his mind spinning wildly like a hurricane. He stripped off his white shirt, marred with red streaks, and went into the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands. Pumping handful after handful of soap into his palm, scrubbing every inch of skin until every last fleck of blood was off. His emotions lunging inside him like Bludgers that sprung from shock to fear and to the cold realization that he had no more excuses to shield him from the truth.

No more excuses. No more doubt. No more waiting. All of which went down the drain, following the dried blood and flecks of skin.

His numb body carried him back to his room when he was down with the bathroom, laying himself flat down on his back. He thought back to what happened at class. He thought back to the times his body became that rigid. He thought back on the times when his emotions were set that high. He thought back to his sharpened senses. He thought back to Harry and how he seemed to be the trigger behind them. He thought back on the last time they saw each other. Then when his owl came back several days later with his father's note and list, he thought back on everything.

By the time Delacour caught up with him, it was a week after his defense class in which during the time period he spent in his room, thinking and thinking. It was close to nightfall when she finally found him standing by the bridge over the calm river. His crazed, rapid emotions had settled into cool, remote calmness.

Thanks to the long, hard hours he spent thinking. Thanks to the nasty headlines printed onto Daily Prophet. Thanks to Father's letter. It was honestly less of a letter and more of a list consisting of the names of girls he knew from pureblood parties, from his school and the Slytherin house, from his parents' friend circle. With a small note from Father telling him it was time for him to consider picking out a potential match that would serve as a good bride.

A bride.

Acid tore through Draco's insides.

It was a letter he spent most of his time staring at it, looking at the list of names. Of girls who were pretty, girls who were average, girls who came from respectable families, girls who were purebloods. A girl who'd be picked as Mrs. Malfoy, who'd be the mother of his children, who'd be his dear wife.

It was now a letter drifting aimlessly in the river.

Draco's eyes were still on the letter when Delacour came near. He sensed her before he heard her, thanks to her lilac perfume. His back still to her, Draco asked, "How strong are Veelas?"

His question was met with silence. Silence that went on for so long, Draco turned around to make sure the girl didn't kneel over from the shock of his question. Astonishment was painted onto her face in clear, almost-blinding color.

She blinked her shock-filled eyes to shake off the emotion. "Strong," she finally said.

"Strong enough to take on anything? Other creatures?"

There was a slight pause before she delivered her answer. "We are not completely invincible, Draco. No man or creature is. But," She took a step forward. "We are still very strong. We can 'old our own in battle. Even be close to invincible if trained properly."

"What other physical side-effects are there? Besides the wings?"

"Well, as you saw for yourself, there are claws. Beaks if we are in full rage. Teeth become sharpened but not are entirely fangs, so that's one less thing to worry about."

Just one? Draco's frown grew tighter. "And powers? Does it heighten the ones we already have? Can you combine them both? Do you have to use one more than the other?"

"Well, the gene will already manifest its own magic. But it does add more of a…kick, I believe you say, to the powers. Combined, they create something entirely great. 'owever," She took another step closer. "When our mate comes into our lives, they 'elp our powers reach new 'eights." Another slow step. "I believe you read the books about, yes? 'ow the Veela is one 'alf? Their mate the other? When the two are brought together, they create an incredible whole. They can channel strength from one another. And power."

Draco's mind went back to one of Mother's books. Harry had showed him a page of the Veela and his mate, first changing into a woman, then a man, showing disregard to gender. And the passage underneath it. Different as the sun and moon, equal in power. One with the gene, the other it's half.

"And when the mate is danger, our senses 'eighten. Our emotions 'eighten. And we become focused on one thing," Delacour said. "Eliminating that threat."

The second he sensed dark magic burning from the Moody imposter's body, Draco reacted. Harry was in danger and he refused to let that happen.

He wouldn't let that happen.

Much like he wouldn't that dim-witted Italian bamboo said another word about him, his family, or Harry.

Delacour took another step closer. "Do your questions mean you finally believe what I've been saying all this time?"

Draco watched the list of names until it sank into the deep depths of the river. "Just a curious mind opening up to new possibilities. And seeing how I can work this new…development into my advantage."

Another step closer. "And the mating bond?"

Haunted green eyes came into his mind. The warmth he felt when he first looked into them. The numbing ice he felt when they turned away from him, broken and empty. "We'll see."

Friends and allies alike called out to him as Draco came into the common room, asking about his summer, thoughts on the old goat and the hag who was joining the staff, his appearance which caused a few of them to take another glance or shake their head. Draco stormed past them, leaving the trail of questions and comments behind him, and walked into the boys' dorms, marching down the hall to the last door.

He took in a long breath, collected his thoughts, and then pushed open the door.

Harry had stripped off his cloak, leaving him in his sweater. He flung it over to the bed in annoyance and rubbed his hands over his face. He nearly jumped as Draco slammed the door behind him, sealing it tight with locking and muting spells.

Harry watched him carefully as Draco cast his spells and walked over to the fireplace, standing across from him. Harry looked so lost, so sad, so tired that Draco wanted to hug him tight and never let him go. To kiss him over and over again until they couldn't remember anything else. But Draco forced himself to keep his distance because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to carry through with it if he moved closer.

Without another word, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the small note Hedwig had delivered to him days before that hasn't left his side.

Harry's eyes widened in recognition at the sight of his letter.

"'I miss you.'" Draco said, turning over the letter so Harry would see the words.

His best friend swallowed down hard as he averted his eyes. "Draco-"

"'I miss you,'" he repeated. "After so many letters, so much silence, that was all I got in return. A small note with three words. I miss you."

Harry looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. He didn't bother denying the claim or making an excuse. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself as he sat down on top of the trunk.

"I was furious when I was read that letter. Sorry," he corrected himself with a snort. "Not letter. A note." Harry flinched from the lashing whip of his tone. "Actually memo now that I think about. The word count definitely fits."

Harry held himself tighter.

"I think I was madder than I've ever been in my entire life. And you know as well as I do, Potter, there have been times where I have been plenty mad. But this summer I reached a new whole level of angry. I was furious at that damn useless goat we're forced to call a headmaster. All-knowing, all-powerful and yet he couldn't get his lazy arse up to help an underage student get out of a Tournament he didn't even sign up for. Or add a goddamn security system so spectators can see what's going on and the Champions could easily call for help."

Draco waited for a denial. He waited for a defense in Dumbledore's name. Harry stayed silent though, staring at the ground.

"I was even more furious at you." It was as if a gate had broken inside him. A steel-hold, thick gate he kept as guard and base for the summer, crumbling into pieces, releasing the emotions he spent all that time burying out like a flood. "For being so distant, so silent. For locking yourself up and refusing to let me in. When you left to go into the maze, I knew there was something wrong. I couldn't name it. I couldn't explain it. But I just knew it. It was the same feeling I had..that night. So I waited. Two hours and out comes Delacour who looked like she'd been attacked by bears. Three hours and out comes Viktor and you still weren't there. At that point, I was so scared, so worried, I was surprised I was still on my feet. Pansy thought maybe I should sit down, but I shrugged her off me and refused to move from my spot. Then four hours, then five. And finally the last two Champions came out. Diggory was just lying there, staring up at the sky. I knew he was dead the second I saw him and I was so scared. Not just scared. I was terrified. Then I finally saw you. You were so pale like Diggory; you were covered in blood and dirt, and you were so still. I was screaming for you, trying to push my way through the crowd. You looked at me and it was like I was seven years old again."

Draco tried to fight against the chill rippling through his body as memories of that night crept in.

"Halloween night, Severus broke you to the Manor. You were so pale, so dirty. But that didn't bother me." A lump formed in his throat, burning red-hot. "I was so relieved to see you were okay. So happy. I ran over to you but then stopped. You looked at me and it-it was…" Draco swallowed, but the lump protested, growing bigger, burning hotter. "It was like you were gone. Like your body was there but you were dead. I tried so hard to reach out for you, to bring you back. But I couldn't. It was like you were locked into this dark, deep place and I couldn't get through. That was the same look you had in your eyes when you turned away from me in the field. And then again in the hospital wing. I could already feel you slipping before you turned away and ordered me to go. And it hurt."

Draco's eyes burnt from the memory. He still felt that sting. Harry being delivered the news about Moody and Crouch Jr impersonating the man, and being done with the headmaster and his excuses, ordering the man away. Draco trying to comfort him and Harry slipping away from his hold, turning away from him, delivering the same dismissed order.

Harry closed his eyes as he sighed, practically curving himself into a ball. "Draco-"

"Most of all I was furious at myself."

Surprise slammed into Harry's face, morphing into shock as he looked up at him.

"I was and still am angry at myself because…because…" Now Draco knew how Theo felt back at the platform, his tongue tangled around his throat, so painfully exposed like he was standing butt-naked. "If I'm being honest with myself, I haven't been there. Not fully. Not completely like the way I should have been."

Harry shook his head. "Draco, that's not tru-"

"Let me finish," he insisted. Harry reluctantly obliged. The only issue was Draco had no idea what the hell he wanted to say. Or how unload three and a half months of cluttered thoughts and mixed emotions into words. "That night, after your parents' funeral, I swore to you that nothing would ever get in between us. And for the most part I kept that promise, but down the line things started to change. You started to change. I started to change. And I was confused by that. I was mad because I was so confused, which led me to do things that were just stupid or cruel or both. Like the Yule Ball."

Cracks of pain surfaced in Harry's eyes before they vanished behind the stoned wall. "Draco, we don't need to talk about that."

"Yes, we do."

"No," Packs of steel behind one word. "We don't. It's fine-"

"No, it isn't! Look, nothing happened with Pansy. I mean, yes, we did kissed. We kissed and…" Draco's cheeks burnt as bits of that night replayed in his head, his stomach churning. "We did more than just kiss."

Harry's eyes were remote. "So you did sleep with her?"

"No-yes-I mean-" He had to bite his tongue before it landed him into a hole he couldn't get himself out of. "The way we were going at it, maybe it could have lead to that." He bit his lip and confessed, "It is very possible it could have come to that. But it didn't."

"Because of Theo?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Even before he made his unexpected visit, nothing happened because-"

Because it felt so odd being with Pansy, despite how pretty she was, despite how miserable they both were. Because the sight of her flushed and naked didn't excite him the way it should have. Because he spent so much time trying to feel something instead of actually feeling. Because of that damn voice in his head going on about how wrong it was, how wrong it felt.

"When I was with Pansy, it didn't…it didn't…it didn't feel like...the way it did when I was with you. And that scared me."

Harry just stared at him.

"Afterwards when you found me and we ended up tangled together, it-it felt indescribable. But then you pulled back because it was too much and I was so drunk. You laid me to bed. I asked if you were still mine. And you said to me, of course you were because we were each other's, because I was your best friend." It was like chunks of glass were sprouting into his throat. "Hearing those words didn't bring me comfort. Not like it used to. Instead it made me feel cold. So I spent most of that night going back and forth between confusion and sadness. This summer I spent most of it thinking."

The lump burnt brighter, shards much sharper. Still, Draco took in a deep breath, pushing back the discomfort, and continued on.

"This summer made me realize a lot of things, two in particular. One: I hate change. I grew to hate Halloween after that horrible night because of what happened and all the pain it brought you. I was starting to hate first-year because you were making so many friends, becoming so close to Granger and Weasley, and I hated that I had to share you. More than that, I was so scared that I'd be replaced. I'm still scared of that. And why I hated puberty so much and cursed it to depths of hell. It was like this virus that spread through everything, changing it all. My looks, my emotions, our friendship. Which leads to and conflicts with number two."

Anxiety and fear rocked his body like a wave, knocking everything down to the very bottom.

"I always knew that we'd be friends. That no matter what happened, how angry or annoyed we were at each other, no matter how many changes we went through, we'd always together." It felt like it was just yesterday when he was called down to meet his newest playmate for Sunday tea and looked into the bright green eyes of his best friend. "That'd you always be mine and I'd always be yours. Then puberty happened and it was like everything was turned upside-down. Then I found out Veela blood is in my family and there's a high chance I may become one, which further complicated everything since I started doing things. Feelings things. And I couldn't tell if it was because of puberty, because of the possible Veela gene, or-or if it was actually me. Then more things happened, with you, with me, and I thought about everything."

"Those…" Harry said softly, his voice no louder than a whisper. "Those were the two things you were thinking about?"

"Among others," Draco confessed. "But yes, those were the main points. Thanks to that thinking, I came down to three conclusions."

"Which are?"

Thus, where the hard part came in. Draco sucked in a long breath that came from deep within and flew hot air into his hands. He held them to his sides as he walked over to Harry.

"That this Veela thing…is real. It's real and it's in me. Or rather, according to most of the books say, it will soon be me. I didn't want to believe it. I tried to deny it for as long as I could. Then this bamboo tried to get into my head by mouthing off you and my family, and the next thing I know, I'm wearing half of his face in my new claws."

Harry's eyes widened. Draco made a note to tell him more of that tale later.

"That this dark threat is real. Despite how much those idiots down at the Ministry want to say otherwise, despite what the press says, what Fudge says. It's real. It's coming. I've already seen firsthand what it did you twice already and I refuse for there to be a third. So I plan on helping on however I can, in any way I can." Draco put his hand on Harry's knee. "Because if you have to fight, if you have to go through this darkness, then I'm coming with you."

Taking another breath, Draco continued on. "I swore to you that night nothing would ever get between us. Not Dumbledore, not the Dark Lord, no one. But something did get in between us. Me." Harry looked atonished by the confession, but the steady look in Draco's eyes halted his stream of protests and questions. "Because of my confusion over what was happening, my fear over it. I was such a coward owning up to what I felt because I was so scared of the aftermath. Of the possibility that maybe what I was feeling wasn't real, and then the possibility that maybe it was. Of a greater change coming and it possibly ending us if it turned out badly. And then it finally clicked."

Before his nerves got the best of him, before the adrenaline rushing through his head worn off, before he talked himself out of what was he was about to do, Draco walked over to Harry and kneeled before him. He untwined Harry's arms away from his torso and took his small hands in his own. "I finally realized… and admitted to myself why. Why when before Father sent his letter, I never gave much thought about my future because as far as I knew, it would be exactly like this. You and me. Why I wanted to destroy anything that said otherwise about it. And why when I saw the list of girls he sent and him saying it was time for me to think about my future, I felt sick to my stomach. Why I despise the insect and the weasel, along with their dull personalities, because I still carry that fear of someone else, someone better taking you away from me. Why I was so angry when I saw you asking Lovegood to the ball, even though I had no reason to be. I already had a date. You needed one. Still I was so angry seeing you two. Why I was so angry and jealous when I saw how much fun you were having with her, even though again I had no reason to be. It was also why I went with Pansy in the first place because I couldn't stand seeing you two so happy together. Why whenever we got close, did the serpent salute and continued to do it when we got older, despite the confusion spinning in my head over what was going on, it always felt so right. So amazing. Why, despite a majority of the crap I pull or the shite that comes out from my mouth that might suggest otherwise," Such as the enraged-fueled rant after his drenched self was pulled out from the lake and he was cursing everyone in sight, including Harry. "No matter bad or dangerous things get, I'll always be by your side. Without question, without hesitation because…because…"

He was going into cardiac arrest, he was sure of it. His heart was pounding so hard, so fast, the vibrations spread throughout his body. His hands were drenched with sweat. He was sure he was going to faint any second with his cactus for a throat refusing to allow oxygen in.

"Because…"

This was the end of him. He was dead. Or maybe he was already dead and this was his aftermath, sentenced to mindless rambling for the rest of his days.

"Because…"

How on earth did one disgest and summarize ten years of friendship? It was about as easy as a five year noticing something strange, something more when he shared his first kiss with a boy.

"You're mine," Draco said. "You're mine." He released his hold on Harry's left hand to cup his face, stroking his cheek gently. "Maybe-maybe it's because of the Veela thing and that's what drew us to each other. Maybe because of fate. Maybe because our mothers thought we'd be good for each other. I don't know. Quite frankly, I don't care. Whatever fate or coincidence brought us together, we stayed together by choice. Because the second you laughed at my horrible hissing, I wanted to make you laugh forever. Because when you broke down in your old treehouse, I wanted to take all the pain away. Because when Granger opened up the possibility of you finding someone better, I couldn't bear the thought. Because when you came back from Moscow and I saw you again, these new feelings started happening. And they only grew stronger as time went on. Because whenever we do get close…" Heat stung his face, setting his cheeks on fire. "I want more. So much more."

Those shining bright emerald green eyes were closed yet uncovered. Unreachable yet vulnerable. So tightly-cloaked yet so painfully exposed, cracked wide open for one question to leak through.

What are you saying?

Draco looked directly into those eyes, cupping Harry's face in his hands. "Harry, you're not just my best friend. You're not just my boy. You're…you're…you're everything to me."

A shiver went through Harry's frame, followed by another and another until his entire frame was an unsteady as a house of cards.

"And I...I don't-" Draco forced himself to dive underground and dig the words out. "I don't want Pansy or whoever Father thinks will be the perfect Mrs. Malfoy. I just want you."

Harry stared back at him, so many questions and thoughts swirling in those green eyes Draco didn't even know where to begin.

He did know though where it would end. Gathering whatever tattered remains were left of his courage that hadn't been burnt out from his speeches, Draco swallowed down the sharp shards, licked his lips, and leaned in. He brushed his mouth against Harry's bottom lip and tilted his head up.

And wound up kissing the air as Harry pulled away. Draco was stunned as Harry peeled his hands away from his pale face, setting them down on his lap. Then was alarmed by the tears that spilled from those green eyes broken beyond repair with aching devastation.

"Harry?"

Harry's body trembled, hot tears pouring from those eyes as he stared down at their hands, burning Draco's skin with their searing touch. "There…" He swallowed down a hard lump and looked up at Draco. "There's something I need to tell you."