It took Harry several days to recover from his strain injury, and in that time he found he was the centre of a very much unwanted attention. Most, if not all, of the school -bar Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny, they knew the truth- were of the opinion that he was making up his relationship for cheap thrills. Harry frowned to himself, Jake was by no means made up, he privately believed that if he was going to make up a story about his sexual escapades, he would make it more interesting than a steady relationship with a boy he met during the summer. He was quite frustrated with himself for revealing so much at once, and at Draco for making such a dangerous comment. It was a new breed of insult from the blonde -even though Harry knew the boy didn't actually mean it anymore- and Harry hoped it wouldn't become a regular occurrence. Harsh comments were to be expected that year, particularly now that it was common knowledge that he had a boyfriend. He had to admit that his band-mates had excellent timing though, just as he was beginning to feel miserable at the turn of events, he had received a rather thick envelope containing letters from all five of them. It had cheered him up immensely to read about their shenanigans, and Jake's letter seemed to whitewash his concerns.

Harry,

It read, and he could almost imagine Jake sitting beside him, recounting these things in person.

We all miss you, but I think I do the most. I hope I do, it would be weird if I didn't. College is kind of tough, my music teachers are quite surprised by what they perceive to be a sudden increase in my skill as a bassist. I'm rather insulted to be perfectly honest, I don't think I've improved at all! We practise every day, but we're not quite happy with the sound. I don't know if anyone else has mentioned it. While Ezra is -admittedly- a slightly, I repeat, slightly, better drummer, his heart isn't in it, and he lacks your furious spirit. There is also the small [massive] issue of his voice being drowned out by the drums. For the meantime, we won't be playing any live shows, it's not fair if you're not around to experience it too, and it's not particularly fair on Ezra if he can't sing, seeing as that is where his talent lies. The positive thing about him filling in is that, obviously, we are able to practise with all of the musical elements. (We can't wait to have you back on the stool though!)

One of my friends from college is taking a Photography A-level, and she's also in my art and music class, I think I rambled a bit there… but she took some pictures to send to you, I hope you like them.

My mum offered to pay for me to get some tattoos for my 18th, I can't wait! I'll get Hayley (my photographer friend) to take more pictures when that's done, okay?

I'll miss you more and more as each day goes past. Look at me, being all poetic and shit. Hey that gives me an idea for a song! You'll get that soon too!

- from your now green haired boyfriend!

Harry grinned to himself as he lined up outside of Defence Against the Dark Arts with Ron and Hermione. It was the first time that day he had a chance to look at the photos. Both of his friends peered over his shoulders as he looked at the snapshots. Harry guessed the first was taken during music, Jake's bass hung from his shoulders as he performed in his usual arthritis inducing pose. He hadn't lied when he said his hair was green. The second was of Jake, his hands smeared with colourful paints as he waved to the camera. The third was snapped at the park near Ezra's house. Harry decided he would leave the pictures in the music room, seeing as no one else used it.

It was also his first opportunity of the day to read the lyrics that Alex had sent him. The vocalist said that he couldn't quite get them to flow, and he wanted Harry to take a look.

He noticed his peers had begun to file into the classroom, and followed suit. The lyric filled pages he placed on his desk, with the intention of retrieving parchment, quills and ink from his bag, were snatched from beneath his eyes by Professor Umbridge.

"It would appear Mr Potter has some poetry he would like to share with us, do sit down everybody, this ought to be good!"

It was approximately ten seconds into the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year, and already he loathed the petty, toad-faced bitch. In Harry's opinion, her pathetic, simpering voice was insult to Alex's hard work.

"You always knew just how much you meant to me,
yet you betray me as if my feelings mean nothing,
I prayed for our happiness together,
yet it appears you were on your knees for a different reason.

You no longer have the right to look at me like that,
with your innocent eyes,
your caring tone as you stroke my hand was all just a farce
you no longer have the right to look at me and say;
'my darling'"

There was a smattering of sarcastic applause, and Harry felt enraged, it was embarrassing that she would do such a cruel thing.

"Trouble in paradise, Mr Potter?"

"May I have those papers back, Professor?" He asked as politely as he could manage. It probably wasn't very politely at all. He was trying his hardest to ignore the sniggers from the rest of the class.

"I don't think so, I'm confiscating it," Umbridge replied with such a smug sense of superiority on her face that Harry wanted to hit her.

"I need to send those back to my friend in a few days, he's expecting it," Harry explained, and once more he forced himself to remain calm. He already knew that arguing wouldn't get him anywhere with a woman like this.

"That is neither here nor there, Mr Potter, you may not have it back, regardless of whom is expecting it."

Harry fumed silently, he could feel the vindictive, sadistic pleasure the Slytherins took in his misfortune. On a whim, he turned to Draco, who -for once- wore a blank expression. There was something strange about the way he was looking at Harry.

They were expected to read the first chapter of some useless book that Harry didn't even know the name of, yet had read the entirety of during the summer, and Harry didn't particularly feel like cooperating, not after that little facade. Instead of the reading, he read the music he had been sent, and found that he was quite excited to begin learning it later that day. He could tell it was a very fast paced song, and when he looked at the prospective title, he realised it was the music from the lyrics he had just lost. The first thing he thought was that the lyrics were too reminiscent of a ballad to fit the punchy rhythm in front of him. He wanted to keep the tone of the song, but edit the lyrics to make them more suitable.

He could barely pay attention during History of Magic, not that he had done much paying attention to begin with, and when the end of the day's classes came about he hurried off up to the sixth floor. Harry threw his bag into the corner, not caring where it landed, and sat at the desk, pen in hand. The door opened, but Harry paid it no attention, he assumed it was a Professor doing inspections.

"I'm really sorry about what I said on Monday," came a surprisingly apologetic voice from behind him. "I got you these as an apology."

Harry turned around, and the first thing his eyes landed on was the neat, printed script of Alex's handwriting. Harry stared up at Draco, not quite believing what was going on.

"How did you get this?" Harry asked, he had been under the impression that he wouldn't be seeing those pieces of paper ever again.

"I offered to take it to Dumbledore as proof that you're being a sod, I basically flattered her until she gave it to me," Draco admitted sheepishly. Harry grinned and thanked the Slytherin.

"It's okay you know, the comment on Monday. You thought I'd be like 'oh shut the fuck up Malfoy, as if I'm gay'. I should've considered what I was saying more carefully. Would you like to see a picture of him?"

Draco's eyes widened, and Harry could understand why, but he was doing it as a sign of friendship. The blonde nodded and seated himself on the sofa. A slight feeling of trepidation came over Harry as he rooted through his bag for the fat envelope. He was quite sure that Draco had never seen a Muggle punk before.

"Here," he said, and passed the photos to the blonde. Draco was silent for a few minutes, and Harry wondered if he was at all disgusted by the appearance of the elder boy. Eventually, Harry noticed the Slytherin's eyes darting between the bass Jake was playing, and Harry's one, comparing the two. "Jake's bass is a professional range model, easily more expensive than a Firebolt, my one is cheap shit in comparison," he admitted. Once more, Harry noticed the odd look in Draco's eyes.

"Does it sound good?"

Harry glanced at the blonde, and wondered what he was thinking.

"His one sounds fucking amazing, it's so rich and deep, has a real throb when it's turned up loud. My bass, on the other hand, sounds quite good when given a decent amp, however most of the time it sounds like what it is. Cheap shit. It doesn't help that he's been playing since he had long enough arms, whereas I've been playing for two months."

Draco looked at the instrument once more, and Harry believed he finally understood what was going on.

"Do you want to give it a go?"

The reaction was so immediate that Harry was saddened he hadn't realised sooner. Malfoy nodded, a pink flush blossoming on his cheekbones and down his throat.

"Wait here then, have a play around on the drums if you want, my sticks are in the top drawer, along with unused earplugs, please use them, you want your hearing to remain intact."

When Harry returned, he found Draco glaring at the drum-stool. It was so amusing that he couldn't cover the snicker.

"I suppose that was an uncomfortable experience, that or you broke it." Harry paused, and grew slightly alarmed when Draco didn't respond. "You didn't break it did you?"

"No, I did something stupid and fell off," Draco eventually conceded.

Harry propped the case he was carrying up against the wall.

"Give me a moment, I need to find my wire cutters and spare strings, this one has different types on it to mine.," he explained as he rifled through the numerous belongings that had already begun to accumulate in the music room. Once he had found them, he unzipped the case, revealing a metallic red Squier P bass. One by one he loosened the strings, removed them and then wiped down the fretboard with cleaning solution. After which he replaced the strings with the new heavier ones. He tuned it, getting the instrument as close to his in sound as he could, and then passed it to Draco. He moved the desk chair so that it was in front of the sofa.

"Okay, hold it like this," he demonstrated, "with that fat-ass string at the top, yep! Okay, now you play like this, kind of like running with your fingers, it's called fingerstyle, or plucking."

He watched as Draco attempted the plucking, immediately taking note of the sound produced.

"Your fingernails are too long, bass is supposed to be quieter," he said, offering the blonde an emery board. "You can produce different sounds by pressing down on the frets, that's those bumps along the neck. The closer you are to the nut, the lower the sound, the closer you are to the body, the higher the sound. Give it a go," he instructed. Once Draco had filed down the offending nails, he began to play, plucking at the E-string. Under Harry's instruction and encouragement, Draco began to get more confident, until Harry decided it was time for Draco to learn a simple song.

"Your hand will hurt soon, playing guitar or bass is actually quite strenuous," Harry informed him, and he wondered if Draco would believe him. "This is the easiest song we've got," he continued.

He played slowly, with Draco trailing several notes behind, until eventually he got the hang of the first part of the bassline. By the time Draco had grasped the first verse, his hand hurt too much too move, and he had worn some of the skin of his fingers away.

"That happens a fair amount," Harry admitted, "you can stay for a bit longer if you like, I'm going to start learning something new, so it might be a bit boring."

"No thank you, I need to see Professor Snape," Draco said, and put the bass on the rack with Harry's guitar.

"You can come back and continue another day, if you want," Harry said, privately hoping to see more of the blonde. Draco nodded, and hurried out of the room, a pleased look gracing his features. Harry smiled to himself, and swapped instruments, readying himself to learn yet another composition.