Sorry it's been so long, I've been pretty busy lately. Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I'll post more often from now I hope.

Beta'd by eternityintime.

"Potter?"

Harry looked at the blonde boy who sat across the room from him. Draco really did look outraged. He was amused to see that the Slytherin Prince didn't have a potions partner this year, despite having been the picture of popularity in the past.

"Don't look so surprised Malfoy," he said icily, shooting a glare in the Slytherin's direction. Turning to Professor Slughorn, Harry began to speak again, this time in a tone that was considerably more polite. "Sir, I don't have any of the textbooks that I'm going to need." He said, a small part of him worried that this walrus-like Professor would tell him that without the books, he could not participate in the class. He needn't have worried though, as Professor Slughorn simply smiled and pointed with his chubby fingers to the cupboard at the back of the room.

"Don't worry about that, boy, you can easily order a copy from Flourish and Blotts. In the meantime, I'm sure there are some copies in the back of that cupboard over there. Just take one and we'll get to work." He smiled, taking a step towards Harry's desk. Suddenly his jaw dropped, and his lips formed an alarmingly large smile. "Oh my," he grinned, rubbing his hands together a little, "You're Harry Potter aren't you?"

"Yes sir, that's right." Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment at the sudden attention. This was not helped by the Slytherin students who were starting to laugh at him, whispering behind their hands. Harry wasn't sure exactly what was being said, but he caught the words 'Potter' and 'famous', so he knew that it wasn't good.

"I've heard a lot about you boy. I taught your mother, you know. Lily had a real knack for potions…" With that comment, the Potions Professor's eyes glazed over a little, as if he was reliving all of the happy memories he had made whilst teaching Harry's mother. This made Harry feel rather awkward, and he pointed towards the cupboard.

"Um…I'll … erm…I'll get that book then Professor." he managed to stutter, standing up and walking towards the cupboard. The new Professor certainly seemed strange, but at least it was an improvement from Snape. Harry looked around in the cupboard trying to find the right textbook. He found a pile of very tattered copies in the back left-hand corner of the cupboard (which was significantly larger on the inside than it appearedto beon the outside), and grabbed the top book.

Harry proceeded to walk back towards his now empty desk, clutching his loaned copy of "Advanced Potion Making". Just as he went to sit down, Professor Slughorn seemed to awaken from his daydream, and focussed once again on Harry.

"Harry m'boy, how about you partner up with Mr. Malfoy over there, I'm sure you two lads could produce some fine potions if you work together," he smiled, looking from Harry to Draco, and back to Harry again.

"Oh, erm…Sir, Malfoy and I don't really get on so well…" Harry managed to say pleadingly, his stomach sinking at the thought of spending a whole year working side by side with Malfoy. Inside his head, a little voice was screaming desperately, 'Please! Don't make me work with Malfoy! Anyone but Malfoy!', but Harry managed to remain relatively composed. Malfoy, on the other hand, wasn't managing to look so calm.

Draco shuddered and stood up, a look of disgust on his face. Work with Potter? No chance. If they got partnered up together, he had no chance of passing Potions, and there would certainly be no opportunities for him to even consider planning out the completion of the Dark Lord's mission.

"Sir, I think that we'd both rather work alone." He said desperately, giving the Potions Master his best puppy dog eyes look. "We'd only spend the whole year fighting, and get nothing done." he finished, hoping that this statement would work. The short, fat man looked at both boys with an eyebrow raised, and Draco thought for a moment that both he and Potter would be given detention. Then the Professor began to laugh, clutching his fat stomach as he did so.

"Ah, the old school rivalry between houses is it? Very well then, far be it from me to begin a war between students," he laughed, signalling for both boys to sit back down. "Now open your textbooks to page 74. Today we're going to start off by brewing one of the simpler N.E.W.T potions."

Draco soon lost his focus on the Potions Master's explanations – he had never been particularly good at listening to the theories behind potions. He began to thinkhard about what he could possibly use to complete his mission, and how he could get hold of it. The only thing that Draco was certain of was that he didn't want to use magic for this. To him, magic just seemed to make the whole ordeal seem more real and although Draco knew that facing up to reality was something that he would have to do one dayhe didn't feel ready for that right now.

Eventually, the blonde boy began to give up on his thoughts. He started to think about Quidditch and how good it would feel to get on his Nimbus 2001 again and just fly. He wasn't aware that yet again, he was carefully rubbing his fingers along his right inner forearm as he got lost in his thoughts.

Harry opened up his tattered copy of "Advanced Potion Making" and raised his eyebrows. The previous owner had really gone to town with this book, doodling and writing on what seemed to be every squareinch of space on the page. Harry looked at one of the comments, but the writing seemed to be a code that was almost impossible to decipher.

Looking up around the room, Harry's eyes focussed on Malfoy. He realised that in the moments where Professor Slughorn had attempted to partner the two boys together, the Slytherin had not used the wide opportunity to insult Harry. This was unlike the Malfoy that Harry knew, who normally took any chance to insult Harry and his friends.

Looking at him now, Harry could see that Malfoy was obviously deep in thought, and from the way that his eyes were glazed over it definitely wasn't about the potion. Normally, Harry would have suspected that the look on Malfoy's face meant that he was plotting something against him. But now the blonde just looked as if he didn't care anymore. Something was getting to Malfoy this year Harry was sure of it. Not that it was any of his business of course.

Harry asked himself why he suddenly cared so much about what Malfoy was so upset about, and shrugged. He supposed it was just interest, as he had never seen the Slytherin Prince look so rattled before.

Professor Slughorn seemed to notice that several of the students weren't listening to him, and raised his voice a little to regain their attention. This broke through Harry's thoughts, and he concentrated on the textbook in front of him. Setting to work on deciphering the comments scrawled on every inch of the margin.

After ten minutes of hard work and turning his book to various angles, Harry managed to read a few of the comments from the previous owner. It seemed to be advice for the potion that differed slightly from the advice in Potions textbook. Apparently if Harry stirred the potion counter-clockwise rather than clockwise as the book suggested he would get the potion to change to the desired green much faster. Seeing as he would probably mess up the potion elsewhere even if the tip worked, Harry decided to try itout.

At the end of the Potions lesson, the small group of 6th years filed out of the dungeon looking considerably more relaxed than after any lesson they'd ever had with Snape. Draco left the dingy room feeling somewhat drained. He had never had to make such a complicated potion without a partner before and it had taken his best efforts to ensure that it was even passable.

Potter, however, seemed to have managed the potion perfectly in half the time that it had taken any of the other students in the class. Draco was more than a little bit jealous of the Gryffindor having seen over the years that he really had no talent for Potions at all. To the Slytherin, who had been Snape's favourite student for so long, seeing Professor Slughorn practically drooling over Potter was almost sickening. Although he had to admit that there was reason to be impressed it had been a difficult potion. But Potter must have been cheating somehow, Draco was sure of it.

Pulling his timetable from his pocket, Draco was relieved to see that he had the rest of the day free from lessons. A lie down would really do him good, especially seeing as his arm was hurting so badly. Draco gently began to rub the raw, tattooed skin through his robes as he made his way up to the Slytherin Common Room.

The pain that it had been causing was making him feel close to fainting, even though Draco knew that Malfoy's simply don't faint. He just needed a little rest, some time alone, and then the burning pain in his right arm would surely subside… at least a little bit.

Draco knew that time was already ticking and that the Dark Lord would now be visiting him expecting some good news. The Dark Mark gave another jolt of searingpain, causing him to gasp and clutch at his arm. Luckily, Draco was at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room by this point, and he managed to groan out the password.

Draco practically ran through the nearly-empty Common Room, desperate to get to the 6th year boys' dormitory, where he could take off his robes and rub some cream onto his sore arm. Luckily, the only people in the Common Room were a few other 6th years enjoying their free periods, all of whom knew not to question Draco Malfoy's actions.

When he finally got into the dormitory, Draco immediately cast a locking charm on the door. Now that he was finally away from prying eyes, Draco pulled his robes up and over his head, the short-sleeved t-shirt underneath them leftthe Dark Mark exposed to the air. He took a moment to have a proper look at the hideous wound, knowing that it would tarnish his otherwise perfect skin forever.

An immense feeling of regret washed over Draco once more. The Dark Mark was already starting to ruin his life. The pain it was causing him made him feel weak and pathetic, everything that Draco had been taught a Malfoy should not be. In the summer, he wouldn't be able to wear anything that didn't have long sleeves.

'What if someone finds out about it?' he asked himself. It was a pointless question, as the answer was obvious. 'Then I get sent to Azkaban, where I'll slowly lose my mind. I'll never get out if I get sent there!' Draco thought, panicking slightly.

He quickly managed to stop himself from thinking like that, as he knew that if he continued along that particular line of thought he would almost certainly burst into tears, and he couldn't do that. Draco hadn't cried when the Dark Lord had subjected him to the Cruciatus curse and he wasn't going to start crying now. Crying was for losers, for Gryffindors like Potter.

And besides…Draco knew deep down inside that if he started to cry now, he wouldn't be able to stop. Instead, the Slytherin took his tub of cream and walked towards the window. He climbed up onto the window-ledge and looked out over the grounds, slowly starting to rub the white cream onto his arm. It felt cool against his skin, and dulled the pain until it was bearable.

Draco sat staring at the view as he gently continued rubbing the cold cream on his burning skin. He suddenly noticed a figure sitting over by the lake. It was a boy, with very messy jet-black hair, and he was throwing pebbles into the dark water of the lake. Draco instantly recognised the boy as Potter, but didn't understand why he was alone. What was happening to the Golden Trio? Draco made himself more comfortable and began to watch the boy by the lake.

Harry sat on the stony area by the lake, looking across the dark water. He was throwing stones into its forbidding depths, trying to vent his anger towards his two so-called 'friends' who still seemed to be ignoring him. Harry was certain that nobody could see him in his little spot away from the castle and was enjoying the feeling of freedom that it gave him. 'After all', he thought bitterly, 'How often does the Boy Who Lived get a little privacy?'

Eventually, Harry's arm got tired from slugging bigger and biggerrocks into the lake and he began, instead, to levitate them into the water. This allowed him to think more sensibly, and to relax as he did so. Harry was beginning to speak his thoughts aloud, not that it mattered as there was nobody else around.

"Wingardium Leviosa!…Are they ignoring me on purpose though? Are they trying to get rid of me? Surely they've realised that I'm getting left out…Hermione's too smart to miss it, and Ron…Well, maybe Ron hasn't realised. And what's the sudden obsession with love these days, anyway?" Harry questioned, feeling completely unable to even begin to answer his question.

Love was something that Harry was beginning to face up to. It seemed to him as if every Gryffindor in his year had fallen in love over the summer. He couldn't look in any direction throughout the castle without seeing teenagers kissing or cuddling. It was enough to drive Harry insane.

No matter how hard he tried, Harry just couldn't seem to get his head around the idea of love. How could it possibly be so important? "Then again", he thought, "How would I know? I've never been in love."

This caused Harry to think back to the previous year when he had shared his first kiss with Cho Chang. Thinking about it now, he hadn't really felt anything. Obviously there had been the inevitable feeling of butterflies in his stomach, but Harry was starting to realise that those had been solely caused by his nerves rather than of love, or even a crush for that matter. Sure, he thought that Cho was pretty, but now that he wasn't letting himself get caught up in that Harry realised that was about all he felt about her.

The kiss had been nice and something different, but it wasn't particularly amazing. Certainly not to the extent that all of his classmates seemed to think it was. "Well, maybe I just haven't found the right girl yet", Harry told himself.

But as hard as he tried, Harry couldn't think of one girl in the whole of Hogwarts that he truly wanted to kiss. This was starting to frustrate Harry and he put his wand away, resuming his previous activity of throwing rocks into the murky water of the lake, venting his anger.

"What the hell is wrong with me? I'm sixteen years old for God's sake, and I've never even had a proper crush on a girl! Why do I have to be such a fucking FREAK?"

Harry was beginning to shout by now, but there was nobody to hear him, nobody to see the huge splashes that the rocks were making on the usually smooth surface of the lake. For the first time, Harry actually fully appreciated the feeling of isolation, glad that there was nobody to ask if he was okay, that there was nobody to take him to the hospital wing for a calming draught. He knew that if anybody found him here, screaming at the top of his lungs, about being a freak, that he would be beyond embarrassed. People would surely think that he was insane. Something that Harry most definitely didn't need. Just as long as nobody saw him, Harry would be okay.

Draco sat on his window ledge watching Dumbledore's Golden Boy pacing back and forth along the pebbled area at the far side of the lake. It was easy to tell, even from this distance, that something really had Potter fired up.

Whereas before Potter had been throwing pebbles into the water, he was now levitating rocks of a size that could possibly be described as boulders and sending them crashing down into the depths of the lake. How the boy possibly thought that nobody would notice was beyond Draco and he continued to watch, fascinated by what could have possibly upset and angered the Gryffindor.

The Slytherin watched as Potter seemed to shout something, and cursed quietly, wishing he had opened his window. He did so now, in the hope that he might catch what Potter was saying. Unfortunately after the screamed comment, the boy quietened down and resumed his activity of throwing rocks.

Draco looked back down to his right arm. The Dark Mark was beginning to worry him, it looked infected. Nobody had mentioned that the ugly tattoo would cause his arm to look as if it was rotting, and Draco was most displeased with this. He had spent years moisturising every inch of his body, ensuring that his skin always looked perfect. Clearly that had been a waste of time, which annoyed Draco greatly, as he had been taught to maintain a flawless appearance at all times.

Turning his attention back to Potter, who was once again pacing the shore of the lake, Draco let out a heavy sigh. At least he could take solace in the fact that he was not the only 6th year who was alone and miserable.

"Then again", Draco thought idly, "Even making fun of Potter has lost its charm this yeah," Draco had already passed up countless opportunities to aggravate Potter, having realised over the summer the there were far more important matters at hand than continuing a schoolboy rivalry. "and besides, he already looks more depressed than I do" thought the Slytherin.

Draco didn't want to add to the stress on Potter's shoulders, because although he would never admit it to anyone, he did pity the Boy Who Lived. Before the summer, Draco had never experienced true stress and pressure from others, but Potter had the whole Wizarding world relying on him since the age of 11. Draco had always thought that the other boy had coped with the pressure very well, but until the past few days he had been incredibly jealous of the Boy Who Lived, wishing that people could rely on him in that way.

Draco ran his fingers back through his sleek blonde hair, knowing now just how stupid he had been. This year his wish had finally come true; the Dark Lord was relying on him alone, to somehow defeat the only wizard that he had ever feared – and Draco had no idea how he could possible manage to do it. Normally he would simply turn and ask for help from his father, but with Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. Draco realised that he had nobody to turn to. For the first time, the Slytherin Prince was alone, and he was terrified.

When the sun started to set, Harry finally began his walk back to the castle. It was starting to get cold. He was looking forward to sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room for a while.

The walk back to the Common Room seemed to take forever, especially seeing as Harry had spent the whole summer with minimal exercise. When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry managed to splutter out the password and climb through. He waited a few moments to catch his breath before walking into the main room, not wanting to show how tired he was from the walk.

Harry finally stepped into the Common Room a few moments later and was not surprised to see Hermione and Ron sharing an armchair by the fire. They were kissing passionately, so absorbed in each other that neither noticed Harry come in. He was quickly growing accustomed to being overlooked by the couple, so let out a sigh and sat down in an armchair beside them, hoping that sooner or later he would be noticed.

It soon became apparent that in order to have any manner of contact with his friends he was going to have to somehow break them apart long enough for them to notice him. Harry felt awkward in the situation, and didn't want to get involved when they were kissing, but decided that he couldn't go the whole day without speaking to them.

Harry cleared his throat loudly and his two friends jumped, turning to look at him with identical surprised expressions on their faces. Harry was hurt to realise that they genuinely hadn't noticed his presence before he had made the sound.

"Oh, Harry! Hi," smiled Hermione, clearly having no idea just how awkward the kiss had made Harry feel. However, being noticed by the girl didn't seem to be happening all too often at the moment, so Harry seized the opportunity and launched right into a conversation.

"Hi Hermione, how come you aren't taking Potions this year?" he asked, desperate to maintain her attention before she turned to kiss his redheaded friend again. He was genuinely confused as to why the bushy haired girl hadn't taken the subject, as she had mentioned getting and Outstanding O.W.L and shown every intention of continuing the difficult class.

"I am," she replied simply, a look of confusion on her face. "What made you think that I'm not taking it?"

"Well you weren't in the lesson today," Harry stated, a frown on his face. Hermione laughed, causing Harry to feel as though he may have missed something important. "What?" he asked, feeling more confused than ever.

"There are two classes Harry. You know that, right? How else did you think that they kept the groups so small?" she smirked. Harry suddenly realised how stupid he had been to think that only 12 students in the entire year had taken the subject at N.E.W.T level. He knew that many didn't want to tolerate Snape again, but surely when they had found out that there was a new Professor they would have changed their minds.

"Oh." He replied stupidly, not really knowing what else to say. He needn't have said any more though, as Hermione was no longer looking at him, her lips pressed to Ron's. Harry was really growing bored of these situations, as they did nothing more than make him feel incredibly awkward and also very lonely. Harry's assumption that his friends didn't need him anymore was no longer just an idea – it was a fact, and he didn't appreciate chasing after friends who no longer valued him.

"I'm going to bed then." Harry mumbled. He knew that the couple wouldn't hear him, but felt rude to just leave without saying anything. They paid not the slightest amount of attention to Harry as he walked up to the boy's dormitories, and he had to fight back the tears that threatened to fall by biting down hard on his lower lip.

The reason that Hogwarts had always felt like home to Harry was that it was in the Castle that he had made his first ever friends. Without his friends by his side to accompany him, Harry was beginning to feel that Hogwarts was nothing more than an empty shell. He felt as empty in the Castle as he had over the summer at the Dursleys.

Harry blinked back even more tears as he changed into his pyjamas, deciding once again to opt for a very early night. Maybe this time he would manage to avoid Ron's smug face as he talked about being in love.

A sudden knock on the Slytherin boy's dormitory door caused Draco to wake with a start. He swore quietly, and jumped down from the window ledge. The person at the door would be getting their wand out at that very moment, and Draco knew that he had to conceal the Dark Mark before they got in. He ran over to the bed and threw his robes on over his clothes.

Draco was just pulling the sleeve over the Dark Mark when the door burst open and Blaise Zabini stepped inside giving Draco a strange look.

"What did you have the door locked for?" Blaise asked, checking his reflection in the mirror by his bed.

"I wanted some privacy." Draco replied coolly. He wasn't in the mood for conversation, even if Blaise was supposed to be his friend. The other boy seemed to pick up on this, and simply nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Draco sat down on his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. If he hadn't been awoken by the first bang on the heavy wooden door, Blaise would most definitely have seen the mark on his arm. This wasn't too much of a problem, as Draco knew that Blaise would never tell a soul about it, but Draco felt sick imagining the possibilities if someone else had walked into the room. The Dark Lord had forced Draco to swear that he would keep the mark a secret, and if Draco let his secret slip to anyone untrustworthy he was certain that his Master would kill him in an instant. Draco fully intended to keep his connections with the Dark Lord a secret as he didn't actually trust anyone fully enough to tell them.

Draco decided to change into his pyjamas, as they had long sleeves and were far more comfortable than his school robes. He took off his robes, and the clothes underneath them, before pulling on the emerald-green silk pyjamas. Draco caught sight of his reflection in the mirror from across the room and sighed. All of his clothes practically buried him, and he seemed to be shrinking by the day. The Slytherin made a mental note to eat more and climbed into his four-poster bed. "Maybe tomorrow will be a better day", he thought, as he closed his eyes.

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