Clouds rolled across the ceiling of the Great Hall. Every so often a flash of lightning lit up the rafters. Below the violent magical storm that mirrored the one outside, Hogwarts teachers and students ate their meals, largely oblivious to the storm raging above their heads. Well lit tables loaded down with food held most of their attention. Baked ham and mashed potatoes were far more interesting than a mere thunderstorm.

Draco Malfoy sat near the head of the Slytherin table holding court per usual. He smiled across the table at his "girlfriend," Pansy, and took a drink of his pumpkin juice, wishing it was something much stronger. He smiled and nodded absentmindedly at Pansy's chatter.

Draco's mind began to wander as she prattled on about her costume for the Halloween Ball. He was thankful that the sight of Crabbe and Goyle eating on either side of him kept his eyes from following his mind, but he still found himself staring at the far wall more often than at Pansy.

Draco found himself weighing torture and eventual death at his father's hands against being married to the gossipmonger sitting across from him. He sighed; it was three weeks until the ball and the daft girl had already picked out her costume and his. Draco didn't really care what Pansy wanted, there was no damn way he was going to parade around as a knight with a "princess" dangling from his arm.

Blaise, who sat on Pansy's right, noticed that Draco's eyes had glazed over. "What's wrong," he asked. "You're not yourself tonight."

Draco flicked his eyes meaningfully at Pansy before answering. "Nothing really, I'm just tired."

Blaise understood. "Well, I for one am tired of hearing about that silly Halloween Ball." He said to change the topic.

"It is not silly," Pansy whined.

"But of course it is, Pansy dear," Blaise stated in a superior tone, "But there could be a way to fix that." His eyes flashed.

Draco raised one delicate, golden eyebrow. Now this could be interesting. "Oh and what do you have in mind?" He asked aloud.

Blaise shrugged, "Just a little get together," he replied blandly leaning back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. "Instead of going to the kiddies' ball we could have a more Slytherin party of our own."

Oh yes, very interesting. Draco rested his chin on a well manicured hand and pretended to consider the idea. In reality he wanted to jump on the table and dance, but he did have an image to maintain. "It has merit."

"Has merit?" Blaise scoffed, loosing his cool attitude. "It's a damn good idea and you know it."

"All right, all right," Draco put up his hands in defeat, and then grinned. "I'll give credit where credit is due, but it will be your job to convince the rest of the house."

"Would you ever doubt me, love?"

"Stop that!" Draco snapped. "I am not your love, dear, or anything else!"

Pansy opened her mouth to join the argument when loud cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table. The group of Slytherin's looked over to see Harry Potter, in all his glory, being welcomed back from the hospital wing, again.

Pansy snorted, "Is it too much to ask that he not come back."

"Evidently it is," Blaise quipped.

"If only the whole school wouldn't act like it's Christmas every time he does come back." Draco looked down at his half full plate. Suddenly, he wasn't very hungry.

"Potter's not wearing his glasses." Blaise noted. He looks kinda cute without them. Those big green eyes seem brighter."

Pansy dropped her fork. "Zabini that's just sick, mooning over a Gryffindor, and Potter at that."

"Look doll," Blaise drawled, "I'm not saying I'm in love with him. I just wonder how he is between the sheets."

Draco choked on his pumpkin juice. Crabbe stopped eating long enough to pound him on the back. He glanced across the room at Potter and shuddered. "Don't be crude." He snapped.

"No need to be jealous Draco-baby." Blaise leaned across the table and took one of Draco's hands in his own. His thumb moved in slow circles over the hand. "I'm not giving up on you. You'll always be special to me."

Draco felt his face heat up and snatched his hand back. "I am not gay!" He screeched. Of course, that was the exact moment that there was a lull in conversation in the hall. Everyone heard his shout; Draco's blush deepened to a tomato red.

"Sure, I believe you," Blaise purred with a wicked smile.

Draco looked away trying to avoid Blaise's eyes. At that moment a graceful movement at the Gryffindor table caught his attention. He couldn't believe it. Harry I'm Fucking Invincible Potter sat arms over his head in the middle of a feline stretch. Draco choked yet again as Potter's back arched, and the stretch rippled up through his arms. The incredibly sensual movement ended with Potter flexing his fingers like claws. The Gryffindork is actually playing to the crowd. Draco glanced around the room to see most of the girls and a number of the boys staring at Potter. This is sick. Draco was definitely not going to finish eating now.

Blaise turned to him after drooling over Potter with a slightly glazed look in his eye. "Well now, that was something else. Did you enjoy it, Draco?" He said. A grin split his face in two. He knew that Draco had been watching, just as raptly as he had been.

"Of course not." Draco whined in exasperation. He was thoroughly sick of Blaise's blatant innuendoes.

"Sure, I believe you, Honey." Blaise drawled as he glanced suggestively at Potter then at Draco.

"He certainly did not," Pansy piped up petulantly. "He loves me." She jabbed her finger at her chest for emphasis.

Blaise gave Draco a significant look over his goblet.

"Shut up." Draco snapped.

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Harry sat at the Gryffindor table facing Ron and the rest of the hall. Hermione sat down next to Ron and promptly buried her nose in a book. As they filled their plates, Harry scanned the Slytherin table with new eyes. He had always thought of the Slytherins as an unpleasant lot of bullies, evil witches and wizards of the future, but with Salazar's understanding he knew exactly what was wrong with his (yes he thought of it as his) wayward house.

Slytherin had never been an open and fun loving house like the others. In Salazar's day many of the students in Slytherin had been those who were simply not accepted anywhere else, and the entire lot tended to be very antisocial and vindictive. Voldemort's campaign for power and dominance had stirred the usual distrust and animosity of the house to a fever pitch. As a result Slytherin became more introverted and hostile toward the other houses making it completely dependent on itself and ultimately Voldemort for direction and guidance. Yet another reason to kill the bastard who dares call himself my heir.

Slytherin House had always been unstable. Its members had the ambition and sly cunning expected of them, but they were also outcast and the abused, those most likely to become dark lords and ladies if not handled correctly. In the beginning Salazar had taught them how to become independent and productive members of the wizarding world. Though he must admit that he did teach the dark arts to a few select students; those with a healthy sense of responsibility at any rate.

Harry sighed and looked over at the teacher's table at Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin. The professor looked up, and their eyes met. Harry, ever so slightly, nodded his head in respect. Merlin knows the man was doing all that he could. All he received in return was a puzzled frown. He tries to help them. I know he does. Snape has a heavy burden on his shoulders: trying to lead his students away from Voldemort without revealing himself as a spy for the Order, Harry thought. Harry put his head in his hands. I have a lot to fix. Damn Voldemort to Hell!

"What's wrong mate?" Harry looked up into Ron's worried eyes.

"Nothing- it's just- I have a lot to explain later." His hands dropped into his lap. "I'm going to need your help."

"I'm there for ya, so's 'Mione." Ron glanced at the bushy haired girl, "Right?"

"Right," Hermione said with a decisive nod.

Harry smiled. "What would I do without you two?"

"Well, let's see," Ron held up his hand and ticked off: fail all your classes, because 'Mione wouldn't be there to tell you to do your homework; die of boredom, because it's my job to make sure you don't; not be able to solve all the mysteries you're so intent on stumbling across, 'Mione again; and you just might win a game of chess."

Harry had started laughing halfway through Ron's speech. "Okay, okay," he gasped. "I need you; I couldn't survive without you." He struck a dramatic pose, with his hand over his heart, then immediately dropped it. "But the chess thing may be something to look into," he said grinning slyly at Ron.

"Oh, really?" Ron asked in a skeptical tone.

"Yes really."

"Really, really?"

"Really, really."

"Really-"

Hermione slammed the book she had been reading on the table. "The both of you sound ridiculous. Really-"her eyes almost popped out of her head, and she slapped a hand across her mouth.

"Really Hermione?" Harry asked in an innocent tone. All three of them burst into laughter before returning to their meals.

"I am not gay!" At Draco's shout Ron's laughter changed. It sounded mysteriously like a cross between a choking noise and a pained whine.

Harry sat dumbfounded for all of a second; then got a wicked idea. "Not gay, huh. Let's test that theory." He winked at his friends and began to stretch. Harry knew that he was too skinny to pull it off well, but a nice sinuous stretch always, always, trapped people's attention. Halfway through the stretch Harry snagged a glance at the Slytherin table. Draco, he noted looked ever so slightly disgusted under his calm exterior and he wasn't staring at Harry like almost everyone else. Harry finished his little display and calmly went back to his meal. "I'll be damned; he's telling the truth," he informed his friends.

Ron and Hermione stared at him. "Harry, why did you do that?" Hermione stuttered.

"To see weather or not Malfoy is really gay."

"Well didn't you notice everyone staring at you?"

"Yes 'Mione, I did. Pretty good turn out, wouldn't ya say. Could you please pass the potatoes?"

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Albus Dumbledore surveyed the dinning hall from his advantage at the teacher's table. He loved to see the children enjoy a meal together: the Gryffindors celebrating the return of Harry Potter, boisterous and fun loving, Ravenclaws discussing incomprehensible details of obscure magics their table spotted with a stray book or five perhaps even ten, Huffelpuffs gossiping about the upcoming Halloween Ball, Slytherins most likely plotting a party of their own. Dumbledore smiled fondly at his most secretive students. It always amused him when the Slytherins pretended to be smarter than him.

"Isn't Harry still supposed to be in the hospital wing?"

Dumbledore turned from his inner musings to face the disapproving witch seated next to him. "Now Minerva, I'm sure he's fine. Most likely, he did not want to spend the day in the hospital wing. You can't blame him, as much time as he spends there, for wanting to see the rest of the school every once in a while."

Minerva McGonagall pushed her square glasses up her nose. "You don't seem to be surprised to see him here Albus."

"Oh, Poppy barged into my office quite some time ago to tell me of Harry's escape." The Headmaster replied nonchalantly.

"Escape?"

"Yes, while her back was turned." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Well what are you going to do about it," the witch asked sternly.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" The Deputy Headmistress gripped her napkin at the thought of a wrong going unpunished.

"Nothing," Dumbledore repeated more firmly.

"So no punishment, again, for Mr. Potter," came a harsh voice from McGonagall's right. The owner of the voice leaned forward to glare at the Headmaster, lank, greasy hair falling in his face.

Albus was not intimidated; blue eyes twinkled at his coworker. "Severus, give Harry a brake. Besides, I remember a time not so long ago, when you snuck out of the hospital wing." He paused as if remembering something, "Last week in fact."

Severus leaned back in his chair and glowered at his plate. He raised his heat to give a sweeping glare to the students and met Potter's eyes. The boy stared at him for a moment, and then inclined his head. What was that about? Severus thought. He's planning something; I know it.

Are you all right Severus? You look a bit pale." McGonagall asked patting his hand in a motherly way. Severus hated it.

Severus pulled his hand away from her. "I don't need to be mothered Minerva, and I'm always this pale if you haven't noticed" Came the caustic reply.

"Sorry Severus, it's just an expression, but you did look shocked just then."

Their quiet conversation was in interrupted at that point by Draco's declaration. "Merlin, first Potter nods at me and now this."

"Oh Severus, you know as well as I do that it's only Blaise ribbing him again. As for Harry, he probably just nodded as you looked up." The witch returned to her meal, but the voice of the Potions Professor interrupted her.

"He looked right at me Minerva; he's planning something."

"Nonsense, Harry is a good boy."

"Of course he is," Severus's voice dripped sarcasm. "But I happen to know that the boy is more Slytherin than Gryffindor."

"And how do you figure that, Severus?" Dumbledore asked his blue eyes trained on the professor.

Severus cocked an eyebrow; the Headmaster had just confirmed his suspicions. "Potter's actions speak for themselves." He said nodding at the boy who was blithely eating his meal after his performance.

Dumbledore had thought as much himself. He sighed and picked up his goblet. There was no need to worry, yet. Harry had said that he would come to the him when he was ready. Dumbledore pushed the troubled thoughts away and went back to his dinner.