Author's note: yeah, not much to say this time, for once. sorry i didn't post yesterday: i was suffering from cumulative exhaustion, and i had a gigantor english final to do (take home, that i didn't do until the night before it was due... of course) so i did that and then crashed at about 9:30. -shakes head- i really need to take better care of myself...
anyway, to make up for that, i am going to post TWO chapters today! be excited! BUT, in order for that to work, people need to promise that they will review BOTH chapters. 20 AND 21. -nods- otherwise i'll think twice about doing anything like this again. deal?
Disclaimer: i have outsourced my disclaimer-writing prowess to a little girl in poland, but she hasn't written back yet, so while i wait for her letter, just paint in whichever disclaimer you would like.
--kyra

9: tempest

Pansy was just starting to relax. Draco and Potter seemed to have come to some sort of understanding, though she realized that she would probably never know the details. She and Blaise were still together, and they'd even started making plans for the summer. She wasn't failing any of her classes, and Granger had faded back to being an annoyance, nothing more. She and Millicent Bulstrode had struck up a cautious casual friendship, and Pansy was even contemplating a tentative romance for the other girl. All in all, life at Hogwarts was as calm as it had ever been. Which was, of course, why she should have been suspicious. She should have realized in her time at school that there was no such thing as calm at Hogwarts, only the calm that comes directly before a storm. And the longer the period of calm, the harder the storm would strike.

The storm struck on a Thursday morning. She was sitting between Draco and Blaise, as usual, and the three of them were discussing their summer plans. Draco had no plans yet, but Pansy suspected that he would find a way to escape the Manor. He usually did, after all, and now that no one was inhabiting it, she doubted that he would want to go back.

It was Blaise who saw the owls first. A whole army of them, each carrying a rolled newspaper. Instead of only landing by the students who were signed up to receive the newspaper, the owls dropped one at every single person's plate. Without even waiting to be paid, they took off, presumably to get the next batch of papers. Pansy unrolled her paper curiously, and her blood froze as she looked at the headline. Mass Breakout at Azkaban Prison: Are the Dementors truly as loyal as the Ministry of Magic claims?

Draco had unrolled his own copy, and he was staring at it. Blaise nodded to Pansy, who began to read the article out loud.

This morning, at approximately three in the morning, wardens at the prison of Azkaban noted an unusual silence. Coming out to investigate, they saw that every single prisoner in the high security branch had vanished into thin air. This ward housed suspected Death Eaters, including the former Ministry official, Mr. Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Mrs. Narcissa (Black) Malfoy. Along with this high profile couple, a number of unnamed prisoners have escaped, as well as Rudolphus Lestrange, husband to the wanted criminal Bellatrix (Black) Lestrange.

Ministry officials ask that people not panic, and that anyone with information about the whereabouts of the criminals would speak up.

There was more, but Pansy stopped reading. The three of them exchanged horrified glances and then, by common consent, stood and left the table. They walked purposefully towards the Slytherin common room, not speaking. When they reached it, Pansy spoke the password, and they stepped through. The common room was almost deserted, and no one stopped them as they strode towards Draco's study. He whispered his password, making sure that no one heard it, and pulled open the door. The three of them trouped in, and Draco shut and locked the door behind him. He sat down on his bed, while Pansy and Blaise took his two chairs. For a long moment, none of them spoke. Finally, Blaise said, "This will make them frantic, won't it?"

Pansy shrugged. "It'll give them something to do, at least."

Both of them turned to look at Draco. He was staring blankly in front of him, and Pansy turned to look at the pictures on his fireplace. She was still there, his mother. She looked sad and slightly forlorn, and Pansy wondered what the real Narcissa Malfoy was feeling.

"She got out," Blaise said, noting the direction of both of their gazes.

"None of them have anywhere to go but to Him," Draco said dully.

"That's not true!" Pansy said fiercely. "She's good, Draco. She's powerful, she's talented, and she's got connections. She'll have found a place to lie low until it's safe to come out again."

"They'll find her," Draco said flatly. "They always find them."

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a glance. As though he caught the meaning behind their look, he made an effort to pull himself together.

"Don't worry about me," he said, and his voice sounded almost normal. "I'll be all right."

Pansy swallowed the urge to say, 'are you sure?' and shrugged instead. "I would suggest that the three of us strengthen the wards around our rooms tonight. There might be out-of-house trouble."

Draco nodded. "Good plan," he said. "I'll see what I can get out of Potter this afternoon. That might give us a better idea of what to expect."

"Good idea," Blaise said.

Draco checked his watch. "I've got to go," he said. "For that matter, so do you."

Pansy sighed, but stood. "Ancient Runes is boring," she announced to no one in particular.

"Then why are you taking it?" Blaise demanded.

She rolled her eyes, and mimicked her mother. "You will keep up with Runes, won't you Pansy? You know that they'll be so useful later in life, and you did so well!"

Blaise laughed, and Draco smiled slightly. Under the circumstances, Pansy was prepared to accept that as a huge roar of mirth.

Pansy hadn't been lying when she said that Ancient Runes was boring, but her main problem with the class was the presence of the Gryffindor prodigy Hermione Granger. Pansy hated Granger, and she wanted so badly to wipe that confident grin off her face. But she never could. No matter what Pansy did, Granger always had the answers, and always had the highest score in the class. It was enough to drive a normal girl to distraction.

Pansy arrived at the Ancient Runes classroom with two minutes to spare. She ignored the way the room went silent when she entered, and dropped her books loudly on her desk. She sat and pointedly didn't say anything, and gradually, the conversation returned to the classroom. Professor Fraser arrived just as the hour struck, and he looked at all of them sternly. "Though I realize that there was an… interesting piece of news this morning, I do not expect that to interfere with your work. We are here to learn, not to gossip."

Everyone nodded, and some of the gossipers looked slightly ashamed. Some of them, though, merely looked put out. Professor Fraser handed back the homework, then waited for everyone to absorb their scores. Pansy looked at hers. A. She sighed. Granger had certainly gotten an O, and she probably couldn't wait to gloat about it. When all of them had finished reading and comparing grades, Professor Fraser assigned the partners for the day. Pansy groaned when she saw who she was stuck with. It just had to be Granger, didn't it? Of course it did. Fate was so often kind to Pansy, after all.

One of the most infuriating things about Granger was her complete inability to understand that Pansy hated her. She persisted in thinking that the two of them merely didn't get along, and she would say the most inappropriate things. But that day, Pansy was almost grateful to Granger. Alone out of anyone in the class, Granger could be counted upon to concentrate with a single-minded ferocity on the task at hand and not gossip about what had been in the paper that morning. Pansy allowed herself to be drawn into Granger's academic obsession, and when the hour finally ended, Pansy was shocked to realize that, not only had she understood all of the passages, but that she had even enjoyed the experience. It was surprisingly soothing to be with someone who could care less about you unless you knew the answer, and she saw for the first time what Draco saw in her. Not that Pansy would ever admit that, of course.

She gathered up her books and stuffed the parchment littered with half drawn runes into her bag. She finally stood, almost loath for the session to be over. Then she caught herself. This was Hermione Bloody Granger in front of her, the know-it-all who had tormented her all through her school career. It was highly inappropriate to be wanting to spend time with the girl, and Pansy stalked off without another word. Granger didn't even seem to notice.

"That's right, Harry," Hagrid said encouragingly, as Harry tried to get Serenity to eat the magical supplement that all the Crups were due. "Jus' get 'er to like it. Then, she won't be any trouble."

"It's the first part that's the problem," Harry admitted. "She hates the stuff."

Hagrid grinned. "She'll come around," he promised. Harry shrugged, and turned to help Lavender.

Harry looked at Serenity, and propped his hands on his hips. "Just eat it, will you?" he asked.

Serenity barked shortly, and pointedly turned away from the supplement. Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, I promise that it's only this once," he said. He'd long ago gotten over his embarrassment about talking to the animal, and he now found immense comfort in her silent gaze. There were times when you really needed someone who didn't say a word.

The bell rang, sounding the end of class. Harry looked at Serenity in exasperation. "Hagrid, will you make sure she eats it, please?"

Hagrid nodded. "Sure thing, Harry. I'll see that she grows to love the stuff!"

"Not too much," Harry laughed. "Otherwise, she'll be insufferable all summer!"

Hagrid's booming laugh followed Harry up the grounds to the castle. He ran as fast as he dared, slowing down just in time to give a gasped hello to Ron and Hermione, and rush into class. He had barely taken a seat when Professor McGonagall started. She looked sharply at him, but didn't say anything. Harry caught his breath while she explained that day's exercise: transfiguring a doll into a baby. Several of the girls looked horrified at the thought, but no one commented, and McGonagall passed out the cabbage patch contraptions that were supposed to be dolls. As usual, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to converse under the sound of the class, this time the cries of babies and the companionate murmurs of the other girls.

"How are the Slytherins taking the news of the escape?" Harry asked, frowning as he tried to change his doll's limp features.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Professor Fraser paired me with Pansy Parkinson, but we didn't talk about anything." She grimaced. "We never do, after all."

Ron stared at her in disbelief. "You want to make friends with her too?" he asked in an accusatory tone of voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and flicked her wand. Her doll changed into a small, quite cute baby girl. Hermione looked at her compassionately, then silenced her raucous cries and changed her quickly back into a doll. "No, Ron. I have no desire to be friends with the Queen of Slytherin. She sickens me."

Ron looked relieved. Harry knew that they still weren't completely comfortable with each other, and Slytherin was still a touchy subject. He hoped that they would make up completely before the end of the year, but he accepted that it was a miracle that they were back to talking to each other. "It was all anyone could talk about in Care," Harry told them, trying to alleviate some of the tension that had crept into the silence. "Hagrid actually had to be firm with a lot of the students. He says that the Crups pick up on our mood."

Hermione grinned, like she always did when Harry talked about the Crups. "And how's Serenity?" she asked.

Harry grimaced, and related his misadventures with the dog. He had both of them laughing by then end. He glanced down at his supremely ugly doll, and flicked his wand. It did change into something living, but it was just a baby as ugly as the doll had been. He scowled at it, and silenced it quickly. Hermione frowned at his attempt, but didn't comment. Ron too had managed to create some sort of life and, though his baby seemed to be almost normal looking, its hair was looked suspiciously like yarn. McGonagall came over to them. She raised an eyebrow at Hermione's doll.

"Are you quite all right, Miss Ganger?" she asked.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Professor. I just don't feel right about this."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose even farther. "Why is that, Miss Granger?"

Hermione met Professor McGonagall's eyes. "It feels like we're playing God, Professor."

Professor McGonagall sniffed. "Miss Granger, I assure you that we are not, as you put it, Playing God. We are practicing on inanimate objects. If you are so opposed to practicing on human subjects, I would ask you why you apparently have no problems with testing on animals."

Hermione opened her mouth, and closed it again. Professor McGonagall sniffed again. "I shall take it as red that you can perform the transformation, Miss Granger, but I would advise you to fully analyze your humane instincts before you complain about my teaching methods again."

She swept away, leaving Hermione staring after her. Ron grinned. "I love it when she does that," he confided to Harry. "She sound so much like my mum, it's like listening to her shout at Fred and George."

Harry grinned, but Hermione scowled. "Fully analyze my humane instincts," she muttered darkly. Ron and Harry exchanged a glance, and didn't try to bring her into their conversation, leaving her to scowl at her unmoving doll. They began to talk about Quidditch, and by the time the class was over, Harry had almost forgotten Hermione's bad mood. She stomped out of the classroom without saying a word, and Ron sighed to Harry.

"There go my History of Magic notes," he said sadly. Harry laughed.

"She'll get over it," he promised. "Be very nice to her today."

"I'll try," Ron agreed. His face took on a calculating look. "Maybe I'll wear the spew badge. That might cheer her up."

Harry laughed. "Go for it," he advised. They both saw McGonagall looking at them narrowly, and Ron hurriedly gathered up his things and left the classroom. McGonagall left after him, locking the door behind her.

Harry and Draco were left alone together once again. Draco checked the windows for watchers, then moved to sit next to Harry. "What was wrong with Granger?" he asked.

Harry explained in detail, including McGonagall's response. By the time he was done, both of them were laughing. "Do you think she'll think about it?"

Harry shrugged. "With Hermione, you never know," he said. "I doubt she'll complain in class any more, though."

"By the way, what the hell's spew?"

By the time Harry had finished explaining about that, both boys were laughing hysterically again. "She just doesn't get it, does she?" Draco managed finally.

"She does and she doesn't," Harry said, considering. "In a lot of things, she gets it a lot more than most wizards. If it were human servants instead of House Elves, she'd be perfectly right. She sees them as humans, though, which is her problem."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And you don't?"

Harry grimaced. "When you've spent enough time in Dobby's company, you realize it pretty quickly."

Draco nodded, but his face clouded slightly. Recognizing the danger signs, Harry rapidly fished through his brain for another conversation topic. "What about Goblins?" he asked randomly. "Should we treat them as equals or not?'

Draco looked at him pityingly. "Harry, Goblins are subservient life forms who aren't even on the same evolutionary level as we are."

Harry felt his eyebrows rise. Draco was usually careful to hide his more extreme views from Harry, but every so often he would slip and let out something like that. "Are they really subservient?" Harry asked. "They're smart, and talented. Why do we let them handle money and jewels if they aren't equal to us?"

"They're good at what they do," Draco conceded. "But that's all they're good at. Their magic isn't strong enough to require a wand, and they know only gold and figures."

"Have we ever tried to give them a wand?" Harry asked. "I would think that their power is stronger than ours, if it doesn't need a wand."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry," he said patiently. "Goblins can do very simple magic, like House Elves. But they can't do any of the higher spells and charms that we can. About as far as a Goblin can get is a simple levitation charm."

"Without a wand," Harry reminded him. "Can you do a levitation charm without a wand?"

Draco shrugged. "That's not the point," he said. "The point is that I can do more than that with a wand. There's no point in having power if it's so highly specialized that you can only use it to do a few things."

"But they do those few things really well," Harry argued. "It's like Quidditch. The Seekers look for the Snitch, not the Quaffle. The Keeper doesn't hit the bludgers, and the Beaters could care less about the Snitch. All of them are equally important, though."

Draco sighed. "I'm not going to convince you, am I?" he asked.

"Probably not," Harry agreed. "But we could keep arguing."

Draco grinned in such a seductive manner that Harry's breath caught. "Or we could talk about… other things," he suggested.

Harry had to swallow before he could answer. "We could," he agreed hoarsely.

Minerva didn't care what Albus said. With the prisoners gone from Azkaban, she had no choice but to separate the two boys. She'd watched them off and on ever since October, and she didn't like what she saw at all. She saw Mr. Potter willing to give up a brilliant future for Mr. Malfoy, and she saw him being drawn deeper and deeper into a situation that he couldn't get out of alone. She knew that it was harder to fall out of love than it was to fall into it, and she didn't want to see Mr. Potter leaving the path that he was destined to walk for a boy who was almost certainly not worth it.

She was frustrated, though. She couldn't think of a way to separate the two of them without being obvious about it. They were doing a very good job of hiding their involvement with each other, and she had to admit a grudging admiration for both boys' acting skills. She knew how hard it was to pretend to hate someone you loved. But that wasn't the point. The point was that, no matter how well they hid it, those two were walking into trouble. She told herself that she was saving them from themselves, and ignored the voice in her head that sounded so much like Albus.

The most obvious way she could see was to end the detentions together. That would give them no time alone together, and she hoped that it would be enough. If not, then, well, she would just have to think of something else. She carefully didn't think about what Albus would say. She was her own person, after all, and she was the one who'd assigned the detention. She could end it any time she wanted. Yes, that was what she would do.

She stood and shook her robes into line. Then, she strode out of her office and towards the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady didn't ask her for the password, clearly recognizing Minerva's mood, and only swung open silently. Minerva stepped through the hole and looked around the room for Mr. Potter. She didn't see him, but Miss Granger was curled up in the corner with a book. Minerva walked over to her, and Miss Granger looked up in surprise. She carefully slipped a leather bookmark into the book and said, "Did you want something, Professor?"

Minerva nodded curtly. "Do you know where Mr. Potter could be found, Miss Granger?"

Miss Granger frowned. "I think he and Ron are at the Quidditch pitch," she said slowly. "They said something about needing to make up lost time."

Minerva nodded. "Thank you, Miss Granger," she said. Miss Granger nodded back, and pulled the bookmark out of the book, instantly becoming reabsorbed in the mysteries of the words. Curious, Minerva glanced at the title. Mixing Magic and Music: the Memoirs of George Harrison. She shook her head. Miss Granger had the oddest tastes.

She stepped back through the portrait hole and headed down to the Quidditch pitch. As promised, both Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were there. Both were in the air. Mr. Potter was helping Mr. Weasley improve on his Keeper skills, and Minerva had to admit that the red haired teenager preformed better without hundreds of screaming (or jeering) children. She waited until Mr. Potter had caught Mr. Weasley's rebound, then amplified her voice. "MR. POTTER!"

The two boys looked down, then back at each other. They dived down, Mr. Potter much more steeply than Mr. Weasley and landed on the grass a little ways away from Minerva. She ended the amplifying spell, and looked at him. "I apologize for interrupting your practice session," she said, a little stiffly. "I wish you to come to my office in half an hour, Mr. Potter. I shall see you then."

She turned and walked away, hearing the two begin to mutter as she left. 'One down,' she thought. That left Mr. Malfoy. She wondered where she would find him.

Thankfully, he was in the library. She delivered her message to him as well, then retreated to her office to plan what she would say. It would have to be for some other reason than because she wanted to separate them, after all. When the inevitable nock came at her door, she was as ready as she would ever be, and she called for them to enter. It was Mr. Potter. "You wanted to speak to me, Professor?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

She nodded, but before she could say anything, the door opened, and Mr. Malfoy stepped in. The two boys glared at each other, but Minerva, knowing what she did about their relationship, thought that she could detect a kind of unspoken message. It disturbed her greatly. It was the kind of thing that married couples did, not teenage boys. "Sit down," she told both boys. They did so, not saying anything. She sighed, looking them over. Now that she actually saw them in person, her resolve faltered slightly. But they were here, and waiting for her to say something, so she had to go through with it.

"At the beginning of the year," she said, and their entire attention snapped towards her. "I put you in detention to learn how to tolerate each other. Obviously, you have learned to do this. Therefore, I see no reason for the detentions to continue."

She watched both of them carefully for a reaction. It was slight, but it was there. A small start, and an almost imperceptible glance towards each other. In a moment, both boys had regained their control. Neither said anything, but it was obvious that both wanted to leave. She nodded to them. "You may share the good news with your friends," she said. They both stood up almost simultaneously. Neither of them looked either at her or at each other, but yet again, Minerva thought that she could sense the unspoken communication. She breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Potter shut the door behind him. She waited for the summons from Albus, certain that they would come.

Sure enough, five minutes later, the white haired wizard stepped through her fire. He looked at her sadly. "Minerva," he said quietly. "What have you done?"

She frowned. "I've ended their detentions, Albus. They don't need them anymore."

"Don't they?"

"I assigned those detentions for a reason, Albus," she said tartly. "That goal has been achieved, so there is no point in continuing with the exercise."

Albus continued to look at her sadly. "If you truly feel that way," he said. He turned to go. Suddenly, he stopped. "Minerva," he said, looking back at her. "Keep an eye on Harry, will you? It's close to time for his yearly bout with Voldemort." Then, with a swish of purple robes and a pinch of floo powder, Albus Dumbledore was gone.

Harry should have known that it was too good to last. After all, when had life ever been kind to him? When had anyone who'd been important, anyone who'd mattered been able to stay? Sure, Ron and Hermione were wonderful, but it was a different kind of mattering. They were his friends. He would risk his life for them, and he hoped that they would do the same for him. But there were lots of people like that. Harry would risk his life cheerfully for any of the Weasleys, and most of the Order. There were only a few for whom he was willing to risk his sanity. The last of those people was walking moodily behind him. Suddenly, Harry couldn't bear it any longer. He didn't care if their act was ruined, or if they were expelled. He had to find a way to stay with Draco. He stopped. Draco was about to stalk past him, but Harry shook his head. "Wait," he said quietly. Draco stopped, looking back at him curiously. They didn't usually communicate in the hallways. Harry lowered his voice. "We can't let her drive us apart," he said intensely.

Draco checked the hallway for watching people, then said, "No. We'll find a way."

Harry bit his lip, trying to think up a plan on short notice. "We could always just try to jinx each other into oblivion again," he suggested, a faint smile playing on his lips. "We could force her to put us back in detention."

Draco shook his head darkly. "She knows," he said. "It's obvious. Somehow, she knows, and she's going out of her way to separate us."

"But how…" Harry stopped as the thought hit both of them at the same time. "She didn't! She couldn't have!"

"She did, Potter," Draco snapped. "You'd better get used to the idea. She's been spying on us, probably from the very beginning."

Harry groaned, and closed his eyes in despair. He could only imagine what McGonagall had seen. He racked his brain, trying to think of what she might have seen. Admittedly, there was a lot to be scandalized about.

Suddenly, Draco started. Footsteps were coming down the hall. Harry tried to pull a sneer onto his face, but his heart wasn't in it. Instead, he started to walk away. Draco grabbed his sleeve and hissed, "Meet me in the Room, as soon after dinner as you can."

Harry didn't have time to nod, because the imposing figure of Professor Snape turned the corner. "Mr. Potter," he said sharply. "Remove your hands from Mr. Malfoy instantly!" Harry stiffened at the injustice, but didn't say anything.

Malfoy let go of Harry, glowering fiercely at him. "We'll settle this later, Potter," he snarled, then turned and strode angrily out and around the corner that Snape had just turned. Harry turned as well, but Snape stopped him.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," he said. "And if I ever see you setting hands on a fellow student again, it will be one hundred."

"Yes, sir," Harry ground out. "May I go now, sir?" Snape didn't answer, and Harry took that as an invitation to get the hell out of Snape's way.

Back in the dormitory, Harry threw his books down on his bed. He sat down next to them, looking at his watch. There were still two hours until dinner. The door opened again, and Hermione walked in. He looked at her in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Looking for you, of course."

"You've obviously found me. What did you want?"

"I heard what McGonagall said."

He rounded on her, relieved to have a target for his anger. "You too? Does the entire school make it a habit to eavesdrop on my every conversation? Is spying on Harry the unofficial sport of Hogwarts? I thought that you respected me enough to leave me my privacy!"

She looked afraid. "I didn't actually hear it personally," she protested.

"So you're gossiping about me! Tell me how that's better!" It felt good to shout at someone, to take his anger out on an unresisting target. He ignored the guilt he felt about using her like that, ignored the hurt look on her face. "Listen to me, Hermione! I don't appreciate it at all! If you're going to be gossiping and listening to rumors, why don't you change your name to Parvati? Maybe the two of you would get along better than you thought!"

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but he cut her off ruthlessly. "It's no wonder we're the only friends that you have! Everyone else has been scared off! Did you think that I was any different? I'm human too, Hermione! I'm Harry, not the Chosen One, not the Boy Who Lived. Harry! And I have feelings, just like you. So just stay out of my way, do you understand? Stay out of my way!"

He didn't see her run out of the dormitory almost in tears.

Harry stepped through the door to the Room on Requirement, hoping that he was the first one there. He needed time to get his emotions under control before he talked at Draco. He doubted that his friend would be impressed by the way he'd treated Hermione, and as reason returned, he knew that he would have to do some very serious apologizing to her. Not yet, though. She probably wouldn't want to hear his apology yet. Harry sat down in the chair by the fire, smiling a little sadly at the white leather. So the Room thought that he was pure, did it? He wondered how to tell it that it was wrong.

The door opened again, and Draco strode in. He stopped when he saw Harry, and Harry knew instinctively that Draco had had a similar confrontation, probably with Pansy. He also knew that neither of them would ever talk about it. It wasn't the kind of thing you talked about, even to your best friend. Draco moved over and sat down in a matching white chair next to Harry's. They didn't say anything for a long moment, content to look at each other. Finally, Harry said quietly, "How often can we do this?"

Draco sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Not often enough."

There was another long silence. Then, Draco said, "Harry."

"Yes?"

"We have to keep seeing each other. It's… too important to be stopped by her."

Harry nodded. "Of course. But how? People will notice if we keep sneaking out."

"We could get into detention again," Draco suggested hopefully.

Harry considered it, but shook his head sadly. "Ten to one she's told all the other teachers," he said, trying his hardest not to make it come out bitter. "They won't give us detention together."

"I suppose not." They were quiet once again, and then Draco jumped out of his chair and began to stride angrily around the small room. "Damn her!" he shouted. "Why did she have to do this to us? Don't we have enough problems?" He looked at Harry for an answer, but Harry merely shook his head helplessly. He'd asked himself all the same questions, and no one had answered him either. Draco continued pacing, and then dropped back into his chair. Harry could see the tears running down his face. "Don't we have enough problems?" he whispered again.

Harry moved over and placed his chair next to Draco's. He reached over and touched the other boy's arm. "We'll figure something out, Draco," he swore. "I won't give up!"

Draco laughed, making no attempt to hide the bitterness. "Won't you?" he asked. "How important am I in the scheme of things, Harry? More important that the Dark Lord? More important that the High and Mighty Dumbledore? More important that Weasley and Granger? Can you promise me that you won't forget?"

Harry was shocked to hear those words coming out of Draco's mouth. Until that moment, Harry hadn't realized just how insecure Draco was about them. Harry himself had accepted that Draco would be there for him, but as Draco's doubts poured out, Harry began to feel unsure himself. Would he forget Draco? A moment ago, he could have sworn under Veritaserum that he would never forget, but now… That wasn't what Draco needed to hear, though.

"You're the most important thing in my life," Harry told Draco solemnly, and in that moment, it was the honest truth.

Draco's hand reached out and blindly clutched Harry's. Harry squeezed Draco's hand reassuringly. The blond boy's tears flowed freely now, and Harry's other arm wove itself over his shoulders and hugged him closely. Draco leaned in towards the source of comfort, and cried once again on Harry's shoulder. Harry was forcibly reminded of the only other time that Draco had cried in his presence. He was touched that Draco thought him as important as his mother. But his doubts began to creep back in. Did he deserve Draco's love? Was he good enough for him? Harry didn't know, and he hated not being sure. For as long as he could remember, he'd been sure if people liked or hated him, and sure of his own responses, and now the insecurities unsettled him.

"You are better than I am," Draco told him firmly, his head coming up slightly from Harry's shoulder.

"How do you know?" Harry demanded, shifting so that he could look directly into those sharp gray eyes.

Draco smiled slightly. It was tinged with sadness and… despair? It was still a smile, though, and Harry felt an answering smile come to his own lips. "You're so beautiful," Draco said simply.

Harry shook his head slightly, but Draco stopped him. "Harry, I love you. I won't forget you, even if you forget me." Once again, Harry started to speak, but Draco held up a hand, and Harry felt silent again. "You are the strongest person I know, Harry," Draco whispered. "That's a lot to live up to."

"You have no idea," Harry agreed, thinking of how he was always expected to be perfect and know all the answers. There were times when being famous was more than he could handle. He wasn't strong, though. Draco was wrong about that. "Draco, how can you say that? What I've done, I've done through help, luck, and blind terror. But you… you faced down people, people who could have been your friends. You stuck it out and kept going. Do you know how much I envy you because of that?"

Draco laughed a little. "You've done the same," he reminded Harry. His eyes looked into Harry's with such intensity that Harry had to look away.

"I don't deserve someone like you," he whispered. "There's blood on my hands."

Draco shook his head firmly. "No more than on anyone else's, Harry," he said quietly. He let go of Harry's hand and hugged him in return. After a moment, Harry allowed his own arms to come around Draco's and his own tears of loss and bitterness to flow. Draco's eyes had dried, and he held Harry tightly until Harry's tears had abated.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, not letting go.

Draco didn't let go either. "My pleasure," he answered.

They sat together, and eventually drifted off into sleep. When they woke, they didn't speak, but both knew that they would come back.

Ron didn't know how he would ever tell Harry. He still hadn't quite forgiven the other boy for saying those things to Hermione. He knew that Harry had some sort of secret, but he had no idea what it could be. No, that was a lie. Ron couldn't bring himself to give any credibility to the theory that he had, and even went so far as to accuse himself of over thinking the situation, something that he rarely did. Harry was probably just preoccupied with You-know-who. Ron had spent enough ends of the year with Harry to know that that was usually what was wrong with him this time of year. Though, now that Ron thought about it, Harry had hardly mentioned You-know-who this year. He frowned, trying to remember. There had been the time when Malfoy's mother had been sent to Azkaban, but nothing after that.

Ron stood and began to pace restlessly. Harry had said that he would meet him at three o'clock, and there were five minutes until then. It was unusual for Ron to be early, but this time, he couldn't have stayed in Gryffindor Tower if someone had paid him. Well, actually, that depended on how much they were willing to pay, but that didn't matter. No one had offered, and Ron had basically run away from the source of his problems.

Harry crossed through the courtyard and looked curiously at Ron. Ron only shook his head, and led Harry out of the main area and into a more secluded area. He'd discovered it during one of the many times he'd used the map to look for Harry. He didn't feel guilty about those times, though he knew that Harry would be furious if he found out. Ron had no intention of ever letting Harry find out, and every intention of continuing to use the map. There were things that you just had to do without telling anyone.

They crossed into the hidden area, and Ron closed the door behind them. He looked anywhere but at Harry while his friend sat down and dropped his things.

"Ron?" Harry asked finally, when Ron didn't say anything.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He still couldn't bring himself to say the words. Harry seemed to understand, because he moved over to allow Ron a place to sit. Ron didn't take it. He needed to be standing, needed somewhere to look that wasn't straight at Harry. He fidgeted, trying to work up the nerve to open his mouth. Once he got started, he suspected that he would be able to get the rest of the words out with a minimum of difficulty. But he couldn't make himself start.

Harry, not the most patient of people in the world, finally said, "Just spit it out!"

Ron glared at him.

Harry sighed. "Is it about Hermione?"

Ron gasped, and he felt his face begin to flame. "How… how did you know?" he managed.

Harry shrugged. Ron could see the smile tugging at the corner of Harry's mouth. "I know exactly how you feel," he admitted.

Ron frowned. He wished Harry would just tell him who it was! "Harry…" he began.

Harry held up a hand, shaking his head. "Don't," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

"Just… don't. Please."

Ron sighed. Why did Harry expect him to reveal the details if Harry himself wouldn't? "Do I know her, at least?" Ron demanded.

Harry nodded.

"So she goes here."

He nodded again. "But you didn't come here to talk about me, did you?" he asked. "Because if you did, I'm leaving."

Ron slumped. It was so much easier to talk about Harry. Harry's love life appeared to be making some sense. He had a girlfriend that he loved, and she seemed to love him back. He knew that, and life was easy. With Ron, it was all so much harder and so much more confusing.

"Look," Harry said suddenly. "You want advice, right?"

Ron nodded. Harry smiled slightly. "Admit it to her. If she likes you, then you'll have saved yourself time and misery. If she doesn't, well you'll have saved time at least."

Ron stared at him. "Are you mental," he demanded. "You want me to go up to her and say, 'Um, Hermione? I'm not sure if I love you or not, but I'm asking you if you love me, and if you do, will you be my girlfriend?'"

Harry nodded. "I am," he said. "Though I'd say it in a letter myself."

Ron frowned, turning the idea over in his head. "Will you write it for me?" he asked.

"Me?!" Harry demanded. "Not a chance! I'll deliver it, though."

Ron sighed. "Do I have to?" He sounded like a child, he knew, but he couldn't quite help it. What Harry was telling him to do sounded both risky and potentially mortifying. Still, did he really have an alternative?

Harry shrugged. "No," he said. "But I would, if I were you."

"Well, how did you do it with Ginny?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned. "She asked me if I liked her. I said I did. She asked if I liked her enough to go out with her. I said that I did. It took me five minutes to realize what I was supposed to have done. I ran after her and asked her out. She said yes, and that was that."

"And with… whoever you're with now?"

His grin changed ever so slightly. Ron couldn't see the change happening, but the smile on his friend's lips was suddenly softer, almost truer. If Ron had had any doubts about whether Harry loved this new girl, they were erased with that smile.

"She wrote me a letter," Harry said quietly. "I said yes the next day."

"And that's why you're telling me to write to her, not just snog her silly?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you suggesting that I snogged Ginny silly when I asked her out?" Harry demanded.

Ron grinned. "I know you did," he said. "Or rather, I know that she snogged you. I've lived with her for her entire life, remember? I know what she's like."

Harry grimaced, but didn't answer.

"So you'll give it to her?" Ron asked, effectively committing himself.

Harry nodded. "I'll even proofread it for you, if you want," he offered.

"Thanks." Ron sighed and looked at his watch. "We should go in. It's almost four, and Neville said he'd help me with Herbology."

Harry nodded, and they both stood to leave. "Give it to me when you're done with it," Harry said.

Ron nodded back, and they exited the garden, Ron heading for the castle and Harry wandering out to sit by the lake.

I still wasn't sure how I was handling the news of my parents' escape from prison. There were times when I was convinced that it was for the best, and at those times, I could show my face in the common room and allow the world to see that I was still around. But there were days when I couldn't take it anymore, days when I was convinced that they were dead, and that the Dark Lord would come after me as well. On those nights, I didn't sleep, shutting myself in my study and allowing myself to drown in tears. It was October all over again, and I was rapidly growing frustrated with myself. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just be a normal person and not break down about people I didn't really even care that much about?

Once again, Harry and Pansy joined forces (though they didn't realize it) to keep me sane and healthy. Or at least, as much as they could. Pansy tried to force me to eat and sleep, while Harry was there for moral support. I didn't want him to know just how messed up I was, and when I was with him, I found it easier to wear the mask of being fine. He didn't seem to suspect that anything was wrong, though she did, and neither of them pressed me for details. I was grateful for that, grateful that they didn't try and tear my mask down. It had been hard enough to put it up in the first place, and I didn't think that it could withstand close scrutiny.

Harry passed me a note in potions, inviting me to the Room with him that night. I nodded my acquiescence, and he left without a word. I gathered up my things carefully, and left the classroom under the scrutiny of Professor Snape. In the past, he'd shown an uncanny ability to see through my masks, and I didn't want him to pull this one down. It wouldn't do for Harry to see me breaking down yet again. He was surely tired of holding me up.

I knocked on the door to the Room, standing back so that he could open it and let me in. He closed it behind me, and looked me over. I don't know what he saw, because his expression didn't change, but he led me to a chair and made me sit down. We'd come from dinner, though I hadn't been hungry, and there was no food provided. Instead, we talked. That was one of the things that I missed most about the detentions together: the opportunity to just talk about anything that crossed our minds. We went down so many conversational paths that, by the time the clock gently chimed eleven o'clock, we were miles away from where we'd started.

I felt oddly light-headed, as though something had taken possession of my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to slip into sleep. I kept my eyes open for his sake, though, and managed to get through several more minutes of rambling. Finally, though, he noticed my exhaustion. A supremely guilty look crossed his face.

"God, Draco! It's getting late. We should go to bed."

I certainly wasn't adverse to that, and we pulled open a door that had conveniently appeared in the wall. Another room, this one furnished with a set of twin beds, awaited us, and we quickly changed into the supplied pajamas and slipped into bed. I was inordinately cold, and huddled under a pile of blankets, shivering. While I'd been exhausted only moments before, I now found myself completely awake and unable to close my eyes. I couldn't contemplate moving, and I had no energy, but I couldn't actually fall asleep. With a tremendous effort, I turned over and looked at Harry. He certainly appeared to be sleeping, and I watched him for a long moment, marveling at the rise and fall of his perfectly sculpted chest. His hair tumbled over his face, obscuring both his scar and his eyes. As I watched, he shifted in his sleep, throwing a lock back to reveal the scar in question. I'd touched it, had felt the slightly raised bump, but there was something magical about it in the early night moon. It shimmered sliver, almost as though it were giving off a light of its own. I wanted to touch it, but couldn't work up the energy to get up. I was still cold, and I pushed myself deeper into the bed, wishing that there were more blankets. I closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep. I knew that I should be tired, knew that I needed to sleep, but it wouldn't come. Finally, I drifted off, falling into an odd dream that I forgot even as I dreamt it. Harry featured prominently, I know, as did Pansy and a girl that I'd never seen before but knew instinctively was called Abigail. We were somewhere that I knew, but couldn't place, eating some kind of food. More than that I couldn't say, but it was a good dream.

I woke a few hours later, burning. I pushed back the covers, and grabbed a pillow to muffle the racking coughs that were shaking my body. Harry needed his sleep much more than I did, and it wouldn't do to wake him for something as stupid as a cough. It didn't occur to me that he might want to be woken.

author's note 2: oh, and for the record? i don't approve at ALL of harry's compulsive need to lie about his relationship. i really, REALLY want to smack some sense into him. but tamara insists that we stay in character, so that's how it is...
--kyra