A/N: Well, this is the longest chapter yet. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Chapter Thirteen

A week later, Harry was breakfasting with Ron and a few of the other Aurors, when Ron revealed more dark news about the Dementors.

"We haven't seen them anywhere, Harry," Ron said quietly, as though hoping no one else would hear, although they were sitting within easy earshot of anyone who might listen in. "We've all been standing around the hallways in shifts, and we still haven't seen them. I don't understand how or where they're hiding."

Harry frowned. "How do you even know they're in the castle? Maybe they attack from the outside? Maybe that Hestia girl was on the Hogwarts grounds when they attacked?"

The other Aurors were listening in carefully, and one replied, "There's been a lot of suspect activity in the castle to suggest that they're hiding somewhere in it."

"Really? What kind of activity?"

Ron gave Harry a worried look. "There's signs of 'em, Harry. It's colder than usual in the castle, especially around that place the first girl got attacked. And everyone's feeling it. You look at any student or teacher around this Hall and you'll see it. No one's smiling, no one's laughing. Hogwarts has become a tomb."

Harry glanced about the Great Hall and realized that Ron was right. Most students were bent over their breakfast plates, hardly speaking with one another, and certainly not smiling. The Slytherin students, in particular, looked about the Hall with fearful eyes, as though afraid a Dementor would swoop down from the ceiling and claim their souls. They were most likely very conscious of the curse the other Houses believed to be upon the Death Eaters' children. It appeared that they believed it themselves.

"You think they're affecting our moods?" Harry asked, suddenly apprehensive and aware of how great the threat would be if the Dementors were really in the castle.

One of the Aurors next to Harry nodded. "It only makes sense. They'd have to be very close to us to be able to do something like that. Control our moods, that is."

Ron lowered his voice even further and leaned in closer to Harry. "And there's something else. There's another reason we suspect the Dementors are really in the castle."

"What is it?" Harry asked, almost afraid to find out.

Ron gave him an anxious look. "Another Slytherin has gone missing."

Harry glanced at him sharply. "Are you serious? Why haven't I heard about this?"

"I suspect it's just a rumor now, because no one knows for sure." Ron glanced around the table again to see if anyone was listening in. "One thing's for sure though. The Dementor couldn't have gotten very far without being seen if it attacked from beyond the castle walls. It's too conspicuous, and even during nighttime, we all guard the halls, so we would've seen it."

Harry looked down at his breakfast plate, suddenly losing his appetite. "Do you know which Slytherin it was that went missing?"

One of the other Aurors nodded.

"It was a girl named Tracey Higgs."

Upon hearing the name of the missing Slytherin student, Harry went in immediate search of Malfoy. Tracey was one of his students; a girl Malfoy knew probably as well as he'd known Mafalda. Now Harry stood in front of the door to the storage room and hesitated. He wasn't sure if Malfoy had heard yet or how he would react, but if one thing was for sure, it was the attachment he felt to Malfoy, and his realization that Malfoy would need consolation now more than ever.

With this in mind, Harry opened the door determinedly and entered the room.

He caught sight of Malfoy sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, holding his head in his hands and running his fingers through his hair in anger or frustration, causing it to stick up in various angles. Malfoy glanced up at the sound of Harry striding into the room and at the sight of him, his expression smoothed from one of fury into a rigid mask. Malfoy slowly stood up from the desk and watched as Harry strode resolutely toward him.

Harry wasn't sure of what he planned to do, but walked close to Malfoy; and after an instant where they simply looked at each other—Harry staring decisively and Malfoy looking askance—Harry leaned forward and embraced Malfoy.

Malfoy immediately tensed, but if he was shocked or disgusted by this gesture, he didn't show it. Harry wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in Malfoy's messy hair, breathing in the scent of the gel-like Sleekeazy potion. He felt Malfoy's heart thud loudly and swiftly in his chest and Harry's own heartbeat quickened at this realization. After another moment, Malfoy brought his own arms around Harry and leaned in closer, relaxing slightly against him.

"So you've heard," Malfoy finally said, his voice sounding tense and quiet. "About Tracey Higgs going missing."

Harry nodded, as he released Malfoy and took a step back, hoping that gesture hadn't been too forward; but more than anything, it seemed to have calmed Malfoy. "The Aurors think the Dementors are in the castle. They're almost positive of it."

Malfoy turned away. "That's three now. Three innocent Slytherins who've become victims." He glanced down at the potions they were brewing and his gaze darkened. "How many more will it take for the debt to be repaid? For the rest of the Houses to realize that this is a serious matter and stop pretending that this is some curse they've invented? I'll wager Whitby still isn't the least bit remorseful."

Harry sat down in front of the cauldron containing the poison and began crushing the dried lovage leaves he'd started on the other day. Malfoy seemed especially preoccupied and stood next to the shelves, his gaze unfocused, lost in his heavy thoughts. Harry's own thoughts alternated between considering the Dementor issue and the one surrounding himself and Malfoy, and what exactly their friendship had evolved into. Because, this was certainly not the way he felt around Ron or Hermione, and he'd been friends with them for years.

But before Harry could fully finish crushing the leaves, he heard footsteps striding toward the storage room and a sharp knock sounded at the door a few moments later. Harry jumped up from the floor immediately, just as Malfoy was pulled out of his thoughts and strode toward the door to yank it open.

It revealed Graham Pritchard, looking perhaps more jaded and narrow-eyed than usual. He seemed out of breath, as though he'd just run there and his black hair was in disarray, reminding Harry very much of his own. As though hearing his thoughts, Graham glanced briefly at Harry but quickly returned his attention to Malfoy.

"I think you two should come with me," he said without precursor.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows but didn't budge. "Is this too urgent to warrant an explanation, Graham?"

"Well, sure, Professor," Graham began sarcastically, "if you'd like your Slytherin students to be hexed any more than they're being hexed at the moment—then by all means, let's dawdle on explanations."

Malfoy's eyes immediately widened. "What? Who's doing this?"

Graham rolled his eyes. "Whitby, obviously. He's got the double Transfiguration class in there right now and he's hexing them."

Harry's pulse quickened as he realized the implications. "With what?"

"How should I know? I couldn't hear him!" Graham snapped. "And in case you haven't realized it yet—this is going on as we speak! So, as two adults with some authority, I think you should get over there and do something about it!"

Graham turned on his heel and began striding back down the hallway, toward the Transfiguration classroom, clearly expecting them to follow. Harry and Malfoy began pacing after him when Harry had an idea.

"Malfoy—you should go find McGonagall," Harry advised as they followed Graham. "If whatever's going on is serious enough, I think the Headmistress should be notified. But most importantly, she should see it for herself."

Malfoy considered this and then nodded. "Any ideas as to where she might be?"

"I think the giant gargoyle on the second floor is a good place to start. It needs a password though. Something to do with desserts and candy should do the trick."

Malfoy gave him an odd look, as though wondering how in the world he knew that, but immediately rounded a corner and headed toward the second floor. Harry continued following Graham to Whitby's classroom and strained his ears to hear any possible sound from the room they were approaching, but couldn't make out anything.

"Imperturbable Charm," Graham said, as though thinking the same thing. "He's got it soundproofed."

Harry scowled at him. "How did you even know this was happening then? I thought he taught first years around this time. You're not even in this class."

Graham's dark eyes narrowed. "I knew something was happening precisely because it's so quiet. I passed by the classroom and heard nothing, not even the shuffle of pages or student chatter. Something like this happened when we were first years in his class and I remember the eerie way he'd shut us all out and no one heard what was going on."

Trusting that Graham wasn't just going off instinct and raising an unnecessary alarm, Harry turned his gaze toward the classroom door and pulled it open.

The first thing he saw was Malcolm Whitby standing over a student with his wand pointed directly at the first year. Half the class—the half wearing Slytherin's emblem upon their robes—was sitting rigidly and unblinkingly, watching Whitby with fearful eyes. The other half—the Gryffindors—had varied reactions. Some had stood from their seats to get a closer look at the front of the room, where Whitby and the student were located, and others were sitting quietly in their seats and biting their lips or looking away.

The moment Harry entered the room with Graham in tow, all the students turned to look at him in surprise. It was obvious that they didn't get many visitors during these lessons. Whitby looked the most astonished of them all. He turned toward Harry, ignoring the first year lying on the floor for the moment, and his expression transformed from one of shock to one of revulsion.

"Harry," he said slowly, his face becoming sinister. "How nice of you to join us. I was just teaching Terence here about some more advanced spellwork."

The student at his feet looked pale, frail, and frightened, lying in a fetal position. He had squeezed his eyes shut and his entire face was overcome with pain.

Harry took a step forward, his expression darkening. "What have you done to him?"

"There's not much fun in just telling you." Whitby smiled. "So, why don't I show you instead?"

He pointed the wand at the student and wordlessly cast a spell on him. The student immediately began squirming and screaming on the floor, writhing so agonizingly that Harry couldn't watch. Tears trickled from the corners of the child's eyes as he cried out.

Harry rushed forward and grabbed Whitby's right arm forcefully, effectively stopping the curse. The boy stopped screaming instantaneously. Whitby threw Harry off his arm and snarled at him.

"What's the matter, Potter? You don't like seeing a Death Eater put in its place? I don't know what we've fought so valiantly for if only to have our most beloved people be taken out of our lives—and not punish those responsible for it!"

Harry glowered at him. "Does this child look like a Death Eater to you? Look at this eleven-year-old boy, Whitby, and tell me this is the child who killed your family."

Whitby looked as though he'd been slapped. "How dare you defame my family! I've had the only people I loved ripped out of my life by these lowlife bastards and you're telling me not to extract revenge! Besides, look at your Gryffindor counterparts. They've been quite fascinated by my little lessons—they've lost family members to those snakes as well, so they have good reason to agree with me."

The little boy at Whitby's feet whimpered very softly. Harry glanced at the on-looking students and noted that the Gryffindors didn't look quite so enthusiastic for bloodshed anymore. Many more of them were looking away in shame.

"So how long have you been using the Unforgivables, Whitby?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. He recalled Graham's statement about his own experiences in Whitby's class. "I've heard it's been going on for years. I hope you've only taught them the Cruciatus at this point, because I certainly think someone might notice if you used the Killing Curse."

Whitby turned white and didn't say anything. Many whispers followed Harry's words. Most likely, many of the students, being so young, were just realizing what kinds of spells Whitby had been dabbling in.

Harry turned toward the rest of the students and addressed them. "I think you all have the right to know what this worthless excuse of a professor has been teaching you. The Unforgivable Curses aren't toys. I know of people who have lost their minds after being treated with the Cruciatus Curse too many times. It may look like he's not really getting hurt—he's not bleeding or dying—but you could kill with these curses. There's a reason why self-respecting people don't use the Unforgivables."

A moment of silence followed Harry's words. Then—

"Valiant, Potter," Whitby sneered. "But I hardly think an adorable speech like that will come to any change of heart. These Gryffindors have quite a vendetta with the Slytherins and they always have. Suffice it to say that—"

But Whitby was interrupted when two figures burst into the classroom. Malfoy strode into the room with a determined look on his face, holding his hawthorn wand out, and the headmistress followed after him. The two paused at the sight before them—the quiet group of students sitting rigidly in their seats and watching the scene unfold before them, Harry pointing his wand at Whitby, and Whitby standing over a whimpering first year student who was looking paler and paler by the minute.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall burst out. "Professor Whitby—what are you doing with that child?"

Whitby turned even whiter as his expression became livid. He calmly said, "I was simply teaching him a lesson, Headmistress."

McGonagall pursed her lips until they became a thin line. "Were you using a spell on him?"

Whitby opened his mouth, but decided against it, and instead chose not to reply.

"He used the Cruciatus Curse on him," Harry said after a few moments had passed. "I've seen it myself, Professor."

McGonagall's expression became unreadable. She looked about the room and caught sight of Graham Pritchard standing near the door, his expression narrowed and his arms crossed. She addressed him. "You've seen this happen? Is this true?"

Graham nodded slowly, his expression unchanging. "This isn't the first time it's happened. But I think it's the first time it'll be believed."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "This—this has happened before? And no one has said anything about it?"

No one volunteered a reply. Whitby was looking angrier by the moment, but it was apparent that there was nothing he could do—for once in a very long time, he didn't have absolute authority in his own classroom.

McGonagall turned toward him. "I'm appalled at your behavior, Whitby. Not only have you broken school rules, but you've also broken Wizarding law. You are dismissed from your profession. And don't attempt to leave the school. You shall be tried at the Wizengamot for your actions.

"As for the rest of you," she turned toward the first year students. "If something like this ever happens again, I expect to be informed about it. I'm shocked that you've watched fellow students be tortured and said nothing. That is shameful behavior! Some would say if you're simply a bystander in situations such as these—you are as blameworthy as the perpetrator himself."

McGonagall marched out of the room with Whitby in tow, presumably in order to make sure that he didn't attempt to escape from the school without being handed over to proper authorities. The classroom quieted as the students stared at Harry, Malfoy, and Graham, who weren't sure if they should wait for McGonagall to return.

Harry kneeled by the young first year and placed his hand on his forehead, brushing his dark hair out of the way. The student still had an agonized expression on his face, but finally opened his eyes to look at Harry. His eyes were bright green, very much the color or Harry's own, and open wide, as though afraid to be cursed again.

"Terence, wasn't it?" Harry asked quietly and the boy nodded. "Has he done this to you before?"

The brown-haired boy shook his head slowly.

"Can you stand?"

The boy nodded slightly and Harry supported the child while helping him up. Malfoy, realizing the seriousness of what Whitby had done, also bent down to help the boy.

"Graham," Malfoy addressed the third-year who'd been standing next to the door the entire time. "Go to the Infirmary and tell Madame Pomfrey that we're bringing someone in. You can tell her the details if she asks."

Graham nodded and was out the door in an instant. Harry felt the first years staring at them with wide eyes, as though questioning what they should do.

Harry turned toward them. "The rest of you stay here and wait quietly. We'll be back shortly."

Malfoy propped up the young boy, Terence, and with Harry's help, walked out of the classroom toward the Infirmary.

"As awful as the situation is," Harry began as the three of them ambled somewhat awkwardly down the hallways. "At least Whitby finally got sacked. And he did it all by himself, with no interference from the Slytherins."

Malfoy's face, which had previously been grim and pale, brightened a little. "I suppose that's true. I just hope with him gone, the trouble dies down a little. I can't believe he would do something like this to a defenseless child. For all the justice he thinks he's serving, he did as much damage to those innocent children as Death Eaters have done to him done in the past."

Harry was reminded of their seventh year, when the Carrows and Snape had taken over Hogwarts, and some punishments directed toward students did indeed include the Unforgivables, mostly because they had been legal then.

As they stepped up a group of stairs, Harry thought of something else.

"Malfoy—how did you find McGonagall so fast anyhow? I don't think you were gone for longer than twenty minutes."

Malfoy smiled slightly as he looked at Harry.

"I stood in front of that blasted gargoyle and said any combination of words that came to mind. I think I'd exhausted all my vocabulary of sweets until I came across Sherbet Lemon."

Harry simply laughed at this and they continued walking.

Later that night, Harry and Malfoy dined at the staff table for the first time in a while; they usually had their dinners in the storage room, but the potion brewing was winding down slowly, so they had less work to do than usual. They had gotten Terence to the Infirmary safely and were now eating a dinner of mashed potatoes and chicken quarters rather heartily.

Ron was seated at Harry's right side and he was eating with more gusto than usual.

Harry smiled and raised his eyebrows at him. "What's the hurry, Ron? Do you have guard duty tonight?"

Ron shook his head as he gulped down the potatoes. "No. Dawlish ordered some of the other Aurors and me to search the Forbidden Forrest tonight to look for the missing kids."

"But why would you think they'd be in there?" Harry asked, skeptical and confused. Hadn't Ron just told him today that they believed the Dementors were in the castle?

Ron's gaze darkened. "Well, you see Harry, only some of us think that the Dementors are in the castle. Dawlish still refuses to believe that. He thinks the incident with the first girl and the other two are unrelated."

Harry's eyes widened. "You can't be serious. Looking through the Forbidden Forrest seems like a waste of time to me. Besides, why tonight?"

Ron looked around the table and his glance fell on McGonagall, who was seated on their far left, in the middle of the staff table. "Because Dawlish thinks we're running out of time. McGonagall is planning to cave us all into the school tonight."

"What?" Harry asked, his mind spinning.

Ron continued looking down the length of the table. "Actually, it seems like she's going to announce it right now."

Harry glanced at McGonagall, who had stood up and was now clinking her goblet with a fork.

"If I may have everyone's attention," McGonagall said loudly and the Great Hall chatter died down, sensing the grave tone of her voice. "I have a very serious announcement to make, so everyone must listen to me carefully.

"In the wake of current events, it has come to my attention that Hogwarts is under great peril. I regret to say that no one is safe at Hogwarts any longer. I am sure you are all aware of the issues concerning the Dementors. Perhaps the most frightening aspect of this threat is that we don't know where these creatures are. They could attack from within or from outside the castle."

A wave of whispers rushed through the Great Hall as students turned to one another in panic and horror. It was one thing to suspect the great danger Hogwarts was in, and another to have it confirmed.

McGonagall continued despite the whispers, "In response, we've developed a plan to keep you all safe until further action is done to find the Dementors. You shall all assemble your most important belongings after dinner and come back to the Great Hall, where you'll find a sleeping bag for every one of you. The castle doors shall be completely locked up and professors, prefects, and Head boys and girls will escort you through the hallways. Remember that these rules are made for your safety. If even one of you disobeys, I can no longer guarantee your well-being. Is this clear?"

After a moment of solemn and sobering silence, the Great Hall erupted into nervous chatter and apprehensive looks. It seemed as though everyone had suddenly lost their appetites.

Harry glanced at Malfoy at his left and saw that him purse his lips.

"So now you know," Ron addressed Harry. "They're planning to close down the school for good if these attacks don't stop. And this is just the first step. But Dawlish thinks we can find the missing kids in the Forbidden Forrest, and not to waste time, we're going tonight."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. It appeared that he really had no clue what was going on within the Aurors' midst, since he had been spending so much time in Malfoy's storage room, brewing potions. But it seemed like whether or not Dawlish believed the Dementors were inside the castle or not, it might actually be a good idea to scan the grounds for any sign of their activity.

"Did Dawlish ask me to go as well?" Harry asked.

Ron hesitated. "No. He didn't ask you."

Harry's eyebrows knitted. "Why not? It seems a little strange that he'd ask you to go but not me."

"Well, Harry—now don't be angry with her, but Hermione told me what you've been doing all this time," Ron blurted out. "She's told me about how there's a potion you think might actually kill Dementors. And that you've been working on it."

At this, Harry looked at him sharply and disbelievingly. "She—she told you?"

Malfoy glanced in Ron's direction as well, having heard his revelation. Ron caught his glance and narrowed his eyes.

"Yes. She also mentioned that Malfoy was helping you. Which I found extremely difficult to believe so I dismissed it. Though now I'm starting to see it might be true."

Harry felt it wrong to let Ron believe Malfoy was simply helping him, especially while Malfoy was sitting right next to him and could hear everything. "Actually, I can hardly take much credit for the potion we're brewing. It was Malfoy who created it."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I find that even more difficult to believe."

"So why was I not asked to help out tonight? Did you tell Dawlish about the potion?" Harry asked, trying to understand why Dawlish wouldn't want him to accompany them to the Forrest. His tone became accusatory as he wondered if Ron was simply sore that Harry had been hanging around Malfoy so much. "You've found out what I've been up to and you're upset that Malfoy and I have been working on a potion that might actually put a stop to these attacks?"

Ron looked affronted. "Of course not, Harry. How could I be upset with you for doing your job? I told Dawlish what you've been working on and he thinks it'll be useful for when we actually find the Dementors. He wants you to keep brewing that potion. That's why he didn't want you to help us tonight. He thinks you'll need all the time you can get to finish it."

Harry was taken aback by Ron's words. He was surprised that the potion didn't come as much bigger news to Ron or the other Aurors. He wondered how long ago Hermione had mentioned it and if Ron had simply not brought it up.

"Although," Ron began, "I was a little upset that you'd never told me what you've been doing. And that I had to find out from Hermione. And I still don't understand how Malfoy got dragged into all this." He gave Malfoy a skeptical look, who returned it with a glare.

Harry sighed heavily. "I think explanations are best saved for later." He paused to peruse the Hall, "It looks like the Great Hall is emptying out and McGonagall will want everyone to get their belongings and come back."

They all looked around the Hall and noted that indeed, the students were rapidly leaving for their dormitories, escorted by the professors and older students. Ron turned back to Harry and smiled slightly.

"Well, whatever's been going on—I think it's great that we'll have some options regarding these Dementors once we find them. Like Dawlish said, I think you should continue working on that potion." He stood up and paused to scowl at Malfoy. "Even if you are working with this git."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, obviously not in the mood to argue with Ron. After a few more exchanges, Ron left the Hall with several other Aurors and Harry watched him leave, presumably to scour the Forbidden Forrest. It would still be light out and Harry didn't think McGonagall would close down the castle before they returned.

Harry and Malfoy left the Hall to go to the Dungeons and check on the potions. The Felix Felicis would still take a while before it was completed, perhaps another month, according to their instructions. The poison and the antidote were nearly done.

"I think we could have these finished in several hours," Malfoy said as he stirred the antidote cauldron and consulted his handwritten notes for the potion. "There's only one more ingredient to be added to the poison and the antidote just needs to be stirred properly until it turns milky blue."

Harry smiled at hearing these words. "Great. So if the Aurors end up finding the Dementors, or at least some sign of them—we can test out the poison as soon as it's done."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound eager to try it out," Malfoy remarked.

Harry's gaze darkened. "Well, I don't know about you, but I could hardly stand it if anyone else was attacked or went missing."

Malfoy's face turned serious upon hearing that. "I agree. I just can't help feeling that we're too late. Some of the few students I ever cared about have already become the Dementors' victims."

The sight of Mafalda's body returned to Harry as vividly as if he were seeing it all over again. Her blank and emotionless eyes frightened and distressed him the most. As Harry considered the plan McGonagall was installing to keep them locked in the Great Hall overnight, he couldn't help but remember his third year, when Dumbledore had done the same thing to keep them safe from Sirius Black, who was thought to have been roaming either outside or within the castle. Although, unlike the last time, the threat posed by their enemy was more real and dangerous than it had been before.

Harry poured himself into their potion work. While Malfoy stirred the antidote, Harry chopped up belladonna leaves. The only sound in the room was that of Harry's swift chopping on the little cutting block and Malfoy's meticulous stirring. Steam rose out of the antidote cauldron as it slowly turned milk-colored. The poison on the other hand was the color of dark sludge and appeared the consistency of it as well. After Harry finished chopping the belladonna, he left it on the cutting block and handed it to Malfoy.

"We'll add it at the moment the antidote is finished," Malfoy said and place the cutting block on the ground, by the cauldron.

Having finished preparing the last ingredient for the poison, Harry had nothing to do. Malfoy was already stirring the antidote, so Harry simply sat on the floor, with the antidote cauldron separating himself and Malfoy. He found himself examining Malfoy and watching the way he very methodically and precisely stirred the milky substance.

Harry had never realized that although Malfoy had always been an arrogant and insufferable jerk, he had also always been at the top of the class during their school years. He knew some very difficult spellwork and could do very advanced potions, even when he had to gather the ingredients himself. Most surprising of all was his newfound ability to create a poison so powerful that it could rid Hogwarts of the Dementors, as well as its antidote. Although Harry still didn't quite understand all the minor details of the poison, he had no doubts that it would work. He found that he now truly could trust Malfoy with his life.

Malfoy had folded the cuffs of his button-down white shirt and exposed his arms, most likely so that the cuffs wouldn't accidentally fall into the potion as he stirred. The Dark Mark was faintly visible in the dim light of the storage room, but as Harry gazed at it, he didn't feel the same uneasiness he felt when he'd first caught sight of it. Malfoy was watching the potion very intently and a few stray tendrils of his blond hair had come undone from the Sleekeazy's grasp and were falling into his face. Harry felt transfixed as he examined Malfoy's concentrated face; he followed the curve of his long nose and the flesh of his partly open lips, and especially noticed the slight color that had settled into his cheeks, most likely from the steam that rose into his face as he stirred.

"Potter, I don't know if you know, but your staring is rather obvious," Malfoy said suddenly, without even looking up from his potion.

Harry immediately went red, not knowing what to say to something as direct as that.

Finally, Malfoy looked up at him. "In fact, it always has been."

Harry's eyes widened considerably. His mouth went dry. "What?"

Malfoy smiled at Harry's stunned reaction. "You're probably not even aware that you're doing it half the time."

Now Harry really didn't know what to say. He supposed that he had stared at Malfoy like that before, but he had never considered it unusual. He'd never realized that Malfoy had ever noticed.

Finally, Harry looked less caught in the headlights and said, "Well, if you've noticed me staring at you before, then why haven't you ever said anything? If you just told me the first time it happened, I probably wouldn't have done it again."

Malfoy put down the stirring rod and gave him a serious look. "Potter, what if I didn't care if you've been staring at me like that?"

Harry glanced at him sharply.

"What would you say if I didn't mind it?" Malfoy asked again, his voice implying that he wasn't amused and that he wasn't just saying this to get a rise out of Harry. "What if I had never said anything because I didn't want you to stop?"

By this time, Harry was thoroughly astonished by Malfoy's words. He had known that there had been something unspoken between Malfoy and himself for quite a while now. And Harry had known that he wasn't the only one who felt it. But he didn't think the matter would ever be explored between them.

Malfoy put down the rod he'd been stirring the potion with and Harry noticed that the antidote had turned milky blue, just as Malfoy had predicted it would. Then, Malfoy threw the belladonna leaves into the poison cauldron and stirred it for the last time as the sludge turned pitch black and looked quite like tar. Malfoy then stood up and glanced down at Harry, his gaze more intense than he'd ever seen it.

"Well, Potter?" he asked quietly, his face faintly rosy. "These aren't rhetorical questions."

Harry stood up as well and stepped close to Malfoy, suddenly hesitant, but making up his mind. They stared at one another, Malfoy looking uncertain and vulnerable for putting himself on the spot, and Harry looking at him decisively.

"I suppose that I wouldn't want you to stop either."

So... that was probably a little fluffier than I wanted it to be. I hope you liked it nonetheless. (Also, the Sherbet Lemon was a reference to the second movie, which I believe used this as the password to Dumbledore's office.)

Thanks for reading! Please review!