Chapter Twenty-Six: Back to Classes

The meeting between the sixth years, and lone seventh year, took little time. Draco wanted to be alone with Harry when he reported about his dreams – they had all had a sense of what was going on from Neville's report, but Draco would rather hear it from the boy himself.

Shooing the rest of them off, Draco all but dragged Harry to his rooms. They were across the hall from each other again, which suited the blond just fine.

Harry's hand was warm in his as he pulled them into the room. Harry let go, moving for the hearth like a magnet – it worried Draco to no end, how pale and thin the boy had gotten. Sirius Black was lucky to be far away from Draco Malfoy at that moment.

"Harry?" He leaned back against the door, a host of words wanting to burst from him, but no clear place to start.

Outline by the fire, Harry's smile peeked out from over his shoulder. "Yeah," he said, eyes shining.

They considered each other across the small distance between them. Draco felt his fingertips press into the wood at his back. "I," he had to stop and clear his throat. "Neville said you got my letters?"

"Yes," green eyes, far too bright in the dim light of the room, never left his face. "I would have written back, but…" He sucked in his lower lip and shrugged.

"Yeah," Draco pushed off the door, taking a step toward the other boy. Harry held his ground with the barest hint of a smile. "I –,"

Harry moved first, two steps to Draco's side, arms wound around his chest, holding tight. Draco grunted as they collided, but held on, some tight, aching spot in his soul relaxing at last. He bowed his head, blinking a little at the height difference – did I grow? - between them. Fine black hair tickled his nose.

"I missed you," Harry mumbled into his chest. "And if you say one thing about girly whatevers, I'll kick you."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco drew in a sharp breath, settling his chin on top of Harry's head.

"I couldn't leave," it was quieter.

"Black wouldn't let you?"

"It was more than that, Draco. You know that."

"What I know –," he cut himself off before the words could leave his throat. "Black is a fool," he said instead.

"…He means well."

"He is still a bloody, blind fool, Harry. How could he not see what they have done to you."

A muffled laugh escaped Harry. The other boy pulled back, a wry smile curving his lips. "They blamed it all on you, of course."

"Me? Me? How dare they –," he watched Harry's expression fall. "I'm sorry," he said, not exactly sure what he was apologizing for.

"It's not your fault," humor gone, Harry looked far too old for his years. Draco let him go, watching as Harry pulled an ottoman closer to the hearth and sat.

"Harry?"

The other boy rubbed his hands over his face. "Is it silly to think that the moment you got here, I thought everything was going to be all right?"

Something was going through Harry's head and Draco hadn't the first clue as to what it was. He approached the other boy, kneeling at his feet. "Harry, back up. Start from the beginning."

"Didn't Neville tell you?"

"He told us some things," Draco countered, "But Neville is too kind a soul to spill everything in a train car in front of a crowd."

Harry let out a long sigh. "Yeah," he agreed. He turned to the fire, tracing the flames with his eyes. "You're right."

"So, tell me?" He reached out and curled his hands around Harry's. "Remember what Pythia said? I'm your strength, your pillar, Harry. I can't ground you if you don't trust me. I will never, never betray you."

Hands clasped his. "I believe you," Harry turned back. "You're one of the very few I think I trust anymore."

"Tell me."

"It's…dreams, mostly," a line appeared between dark brows. "I have a journal of them, you should read it."

"And?"

Green eyes focused on him. "I'm getting very tired of being called a liar."

Draco swallowed at the banked rage in Harry's eyes. "I'll never call you that."

"And thank Merlin for it," Harry shook his head, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "Sirius – he's convinced that if I push it all away, if I pretend that everything is fine, it will be fine." The hopeless laugh that came from him was one of the worst sounds Draco had ever heard. "Even Remus is caught up in it, Ginny too. How'd it get this way? Summer was supposed to be a time of renewal, I thought…" He wiggled one hand free, rubbing at his eyes.

"Harry?"

"I think maybe it was one of those things Pythia was talking about," he let his hand drop. "You know, there's this little voice in my head, sometimes, that tells me everything you and I went through together, Pythia, Gwenn, all of it, was just some made up dream."

Draco tightened his hold on Harry's hands. "It wasn't a dream."

"The worst part," the corners of Harry's mouth turned down. "The worst part was sometimes, when Sirius would get that damned look on his face, sometimes I almost wished it was all a dream. Aren't I horrid?" He tried to pull away. "I wanted Sirius to be there, for so long, I'd give up –,"

Draco didn't let him finish. He pulled Harry off the ottoman and into his lap, arms tight around the other boy. Rage burned hot and quick in his throat, but he hoped it did not show. He could kill that interfering Black for what he'd done. Then he'd tell Severus and let the Potions Master figure out a way to resurrect the bloody animagus so they could kill him again.

"You need a vacation," Draco spoke into the nest of dark hair. "A place where gods and stupid, bloody animagi can't find you."

Harry's arms tightened around his neck.

"Some day, I swear, I'll get you away from all this," Draco moved them so Harry was not contorted to fit into his lap. "Someday we'll go away and put up so many wards no one will find us."

"N-no," Harry huffed into his neck. "That won't work."

"Sure it will."

"Your father would be furious."

"We can always connect by floo."

"I wouldn't want to take you away from them."

"We'll find a way around it."

"Draco…"

"I mean it, Harry," he didn't let the other boy wiggle away. "It will get better and one day we'll have all the peace and quiet we could want."

"It would drive you mad."

"That's what Apparition is for. No one else needs to know where we live."

"…You would do that?"

"In a heartbeat."

Harry was silent for several long minutes. "I wouldn't, you know," he finally said.

"You wouldn't what?"

"Choose Sirius over you." Harry's hold tightened. "Does that make me selfish?"

"No, it means you're brilliant. Everyone should pick me over that mutt."

"I'm serious, Draco."

"I'm not, but I don't think you'll much like that joke at the moment."

A huff of laughter escaped the other boy. "Not that again."

"Indeed," Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the fire, the heavy weight of the boy in his arms.

"This wasn't what I had planned our reunion to be like," Harry said after a while.

"Do tell," Draco shifted back, leaning against the overstuffed chair.

"It was a bit more…happy."

"You're not happy to see me?" Draco couldn't resist the line.

He got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. "You – I didn't – well, I am, but not –," Harry let out a growl. "Slytherins."

"Damn me, damn yourself."

"Argh!"

Draco yelped as nimble fingers poked him in the side. "No! Don't you dare!"

"Hah!"

Some rolling around on the floor was called for, though not the kind that woke Draco up in the middle of the night with sticky sheets. They ended up sprawled in front of the fire, laughing and breathless.

"I missed this," Harry turned his head to look at him.

"Getting filthy on dorm rugs in the middle of the night?"

"Draco!"

"What?"

Harry dragged a hand over his red face. "How do you…"

"How do I what?"

"How do you just spit that out like that?"

Draco rolled to his stomach. They were less than a foot apart. In the shifting firelight, Harry looked whole, healthy, better than he had in months. It gave Draco hope that Harry might look like that all the time, somewhere in the future.

"What can I say? You inspire me."

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're worse than those shows Aunt Petunia used to watch."

"Shows?"

"On the television."

"The what?"

"The –," Harry quirked an eyebrow. "You know, they're really not that important."

"So you say."

"So I know." Harry laughed again. It was a wonderful sound. "Hey," green eyes sobered. "I…" The blush came back. Draco watched, fascinated.

"You?" He leaned closer, watching it bloom over pale cheeks and color the tip of Harry's nose.

"Would you stop it?"

"Stop what?"

Wide green eyes narrowed. Harry caught his collar and yanked Draco close.

They were considerably closer by the time they drew apart.

"That was what I'd imagined," Harry couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I like your imagination," Draco couldn't fathom why the sound of his voice made Harry shiver like that, but it was a good move. They were almost past every marker they'd yet explored, and as much as Draco wanted – well, what he wanted – the damnably responsible side of him was doing its best impersonation of a harpy.

"I think," he said after a moment. "I think it's time to sleep."

Harry blinked up at him. "Sleep?"

"Oh yeah."

"But…"

Draco smoothed a thumb over the line between dark brows. "I know there are things we still have to discuss, but I doubt anything will happen tonight. It will keep, you've had a day I can't imagine and I," he drew in a ragged breath. "I would very much like you to stay, but…" He offered Harry a lopsided grin. "I'm afraid Severus would be just furious."

Another blink. "Professor Snape?"

"Oh, yes."

"Why?"

"The, ah," it was his turn to blush. "The wards, you see."

"Wards? For what?"

Draco gave him a flat look. Harry stared back. Draco moved his leg, which caused Harry to blush yet again.

"There're wards for this?"

"There're wards to alert for – ah, activities of a certain nature. All the dorms have them."

"Are you serious?" Harry pushed at Draco's chest. "You mean Professor Snape – he could – he knows?"

"No, no, Harry," he caught the other boy's hands in his own. "He won't know unless we, ah," he blinked. "Well, do something else."

"But he doesn't know right now, right?"

"I'm sure he suspects."

"Draco!"

"He was sixteen once, too."

"I need a hole to crawl into," Harry told the ceiling. "And a very large rock to cover it up with."

"It's not that bad."

"So you say."

"Dumbledore could know, too."

Harry clapped his hands over his face. "You're awful."

"I know," he couldn't help the grin. Green eyes peeked out between narrow fingers.

"But they don't know for sure, right?"

"Right."

Harry's hands fell away. From the flush still lingering on his cheeks, Draco knew something else was going through his head.

"Is it," Harry cleared his throat, glanced up at Draco and then away. "Are the wards always…activated?"

Draco was torn between testing said wards out and laughing. "Not always," Draco had to start disengaging parts of their bodies, just in case.

"Really?" The note in Harry's voice was almost too much for words.

"Definitely time for bed." He blinked. "To sleep," he cocked an eyebrow at the room. Just in case. Severus was a canny, canny man that Draco put little past. Having a listening spell in the dorms would not be beneath his dignity.

Though he wouldn't tell Harry that.

Still, even after he got Harry to his own room and put their doors and locks between them, it was a long time before he was able to sleep that night.

qpqpqpqp

The breakfast meeting was something Harry was glad to skip. However much at home he now felt in the Slytherin dorms, there was still something a little odd at being so devious in the mornings.

Especially before tea.

The comforting thump of his book bag on his hip brought a smile to his face. Hogwarts' halls were long, gray and familiar. The chilly morning air was beat back by a roaring fire in the Great Hall. Harry climbed over the bench and settled in, bag at his feet, cradling the waiting cup of tea in both hands.

"Harry?"

He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. He hadn't had his cup of tea, damn it, and he didn't want to deal with Ginny before that.

The girl slid onto the bench next to him, her cane resting in the space between them. She did not meet his eyes.

Okay, he blew over the steaming liquid. What now?

"Harry, I…" She folded her hands in her lap, so prim and proper it made him smile. Ginny had taken to Remus' lessons on etiquette over the summer like a fish to water.

He stayed quiet as she began to fidget in her seat.

"I wanted…that is…Father means well," she set her jaw. "He means well and he wants what is best for us."

He tried a sip. Still too hot.

"And – and he thinks Healer Fondorn is the best for us, so we have to trust in him, Harry. If you want to – to blame anyone, then put it on someone else. But not Father. He loves us."

He managed a few mouthfuls without scalding himself. The day was looking up.

"Are you listening to me?"

Half the cup gone. At least he had some sort of caffeine in his system. "Yes," he answered before she could blow up at him. "I heard you."

"And?"

"And what?"

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat. "Do you have anything to say?"

Girls, he suppressed a sigh. "What do you want me to say?"

She was starting to turn red. "This isn't about what I want you to say!"

Yes it is, a part of him whispered. "Sirius loves you, Ginny," he said instead. "But the stuff Healer Fondorn was spewing is complete garbage. Sirius doesn't care if you're perfect," he ran on, steaming over her initial protests. Her mouth snapped shut at last, eyes wide. "Sirius doesn't care if you know the whole heraldry code, the most obscure etiquette for centuries old balls – all of it means nothing to him. As long as you're happy," he pierced her with a sharp look. "He's happy. So don't do stuff that makes you unhappy or in pain. Healer Fondorn can stuff it and Sirius would tell him so in a heartbeat if the man ever got the balls to even bring it up in Sirius' presence."

"I…I…" Her eyes were bright with tears. "You think so?"

"I know so," he felt tired and the day was just beginning. "Look, Gin. None of it mattered before, right? Just be happy and that'll send Sirius over the moon."

"But…"

"You know I'm right," Harry turned back to his tea. It was still warm. Food seemed somewhat appetizing still.

"But…if you're still…"

"Ginny," he cut her off. His stomach soured, rolling heavy and sick. He choked down a mouthful of tea.

"But I –,"

"Ginny!" He was saved by the arrival of Pansy and Millicent. The older girls all but dragged Ginny away, their arms fluttering with magazines of all types.

Draco slid in on his other side. "All right there, Harry?"

"Maybe," the tea did wonders for his stomach. He didn't bother to protest the food that Draco piled up on their plates – he knew the blond would never force him to finish it all. Unlike some.

"Is there more toast?" Toast was good. Several still-warm slices made their way onto his plate. He snitched the jam and butter and set to work. It was the finishing touch for his stomach. His appetite came roaring back. Draco had to snatch his fingers out of the path of Harry's fork.

Perhaps it would be a good day after all.

qpqp

The jury was still out on the matter by lunch. Their first class had been Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall had been her normal self, stern and proud, but with that twinkle in her eye that always reminded him of Dumbledore. They'd been paired with Hufflepuff, so the first class was quiet and filled with copious note taking. They'd be having their OWLs at the end of the month, to make up for missing them at the end of the last school term. Harry was determined to do well on them.

The second class of the day was Herbology – which they had with the Gryffindors. It had struck Harry, half way through Professor Sprout's welcome back lecture, that he was waiting for Ron to jostle his elbow, roll his eyes and pretend to fall asleep where he stood. It was such a sharp memory that it took his breath away, causing him to sway. Draco's hand on his side kept him upright. Professor Sprout, he was relieved to see, had not noticed.

It was still odd to be on the other side of the room from the rest of the Gryffindors. Dean Thomas' wide smile and glittering sneer was given out to his surrounding housemates and Harry in turn. That, too, seemed wrong. Ron, he gave a guilty start. I wonder…He turned his face away, not allowing himself to finish the thought. Enough, Harry. What's done is done. Leave it be.

He did manage to spy Hermione in the crowd. Protected by a row of his classmates, Harry could only watch as Hermione entered the class by herself, took notes and studied their class syllabus by herself and left, all by herself. She had dark shadows under her eyes, but by the set of her mouth he could tell she wasn't completely unhappy.

Somehow he knew he'd learn what she was up to one way or the other. The answering chill on the back of his neck assured him of that.

There had been a number of dark looks from the Gryffindor crowd throughout the day, but after the year before, they were easy enough to ignore. No, what had Harry's skin crawling as they made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch was the way the majority of the first years all shied away from him, half them terrified, the other half seemingly disgusted.

He stared down at his full plate, not exactly sure how it had gotten there. "What's going on now?" He turned to Draco.

Blaise was on his other side. Neville and some seventh years Harry only knew in passing sat opposite of them.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Gray eyes blinked back at him.

"Draco."

"Harry."

"Will you tell me?"

The blond cast a lazy look around them that Harry knew was anything but. "We're not sure," he lowered his voice to a murmur. "None of the upper years seem to be affected. Give us a few days."

"Are you sure I can't just make an announcement?"

"For what?"

"Oh, something along the lines that I'm not plague-ridden, possessed or a leaper would be nice."

Neville turned an interesting shade of green. "Gor, Harry. Not at lunch."

He rolled his eyes at the other boy, but felt a smile creep onto his face. It's better than last year, a voice told him. He went still, listening. It wasn't one of his voices…as mad as that sounds, he snorted into the silence in his head. Nothing answered back.

"Harry?"

He blinked up at Draco's concerned expression. "I need more tea," he told the blond.

Three cups were thrust in his direction.

It felt good to laugh again.

qpqp

He was not laughing as he stared up at their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor some time later.

"What happened to Professor Montevay?" He hissed at Draco.

"Ah, ah, Mr. Potter." The…creature in pink toddled up the aisle, her heavy perfume spreading in her wake. "We do not whisper in class," her pink lipstick was smeared on one of her front teeth. "Do you have anything to add? Do speak up?"

"I…" He glanced around the room, but found no support. Draco was eyeing the woman in front of them with the same kind of banked horror that was lodged in Harry's gut. "I was just wondering how Professor Montevay was," he tried to smile at the…woman.

Glittering, piggish eyes stared down at him. "And why ever would you wonder something like that, Mr. Potter? Did you do something to her?"

He felt his mouth drop open. "Of course not!"

"I'm sure you didn't," Umbridge's smile could have had icicles hanging off of it. It would have given her the fangs she needed. "Perhaps you had one of your spirits attack her, or was it a demon?"

"Huh?"

Umbridge drew in a sharp breath, clapping her hands together at her chest, spinning around to face the rest of the room. "Oh, you poor dears," her simper was almost as bad her perfume. "We have so much to correct!"

And thus began the Class from Hell, as Harry dubbed it later. And it really was, since Umbridge spent the entirety of their first lesson passing out different sheets covered in prayers both in Latin and the Queen's English.

Harry didn't have the words to describe what he was feeling. The migraine that loomed in his near future robbed the rest of his thoughts.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were the same, Transfiguration, Herbology and then double Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoons. Tuesdays and Thursdays had their specialty classes, and double Potions after lunch.

Harry would have happily rearranged their schedule in a heartbeat. The less time in Umbridge's company, he figured, the more his sanity would stay intact.

"Is she for real?" He leaned into Draco as they escaped from their last class of the day.

"I don't know, and trust me, I intend to find out," Draco gave a full body shudder. "I need smelling salts."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "What was that? It was awful."

"Mystique," Pansy chimed in. "It's a perfume from Paris. Tres chic, but smells like a distilled swamp. Mother used to have a bottle until Father took it out back and buried it. He said he refused to pay a small fortune for something I could slap together in Professor Snape's class."

"Yeah," Harry rubbed at his nose. "I don't know how I'll make it through the whole class with that everywhere."

"We'll see what we can do," Pansy's smile was sharp as a shark's.

"Pansy?"

"See you at dinner!" She hustled past them, one hand clamped around Millicent's wrist. The larger girl rolled her eyes at them but picked up her feet, allowing Pansy to drag her off.

"I'll never understand girls," Harry said.

"Lucky for me," Draco laughed.

qpqpqpqp

The God watched the sun set in the west, eyes latched onto the idea of land in the misty distance. Over there was home. Over there was his temple, his site, the place where blood had fallen thickest. Over there was where he needed to go and the delay was not pleasing him one bit.

Around him milled his new congregation, his new bevy of believers. His Priest was a bright flame at his side, tall and proud as Tigernas could have ever hoped to be. Yes, he smiled into the salt-heavy wind. Everything was going according to plan.

He had wanted to slaughter the puny mortals at the dock. All and everything in the world was his domain – the humans would learn that in due time. Still, his new priests had balked, their hasty prostrations the only thing saving them from the lash of his rage. They had another way, they'd said. Please, Master, which did mollify some part of his ire. Still, they would learn that while he was their master, he was more than that, a god soon to be made flesh, to be worshipped with every breath.

But there would be time for that.

A boat slipped free of the dock, the God's shining symbol painted in fresh blood along the mast. Yes, he felt the energy – the magic, his priests called it – gather around them. Soon, soon he would be home, on the soil of his ancient triumph. Soon the bonfires would burn yet again. Yes. Soon.

qpqpqpqp

Harry woke, gasping. He rubbed at his eyes, fumbling for his glasses.

"Harry?"

Draco was with Blaise, pouring over a textbook at one of the study tables. Neville was at the foot of the couch, staring down at him.

"All right there, Harry?"

He met the worried gaze. "Yeah – I –,"

"Harry?" Draco had twisted around in his seat. "What was it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry sat up, closing his herbology text. He had finished his homework and had meant to get some review in before dinner. Still, sleep had tugged at his bones until he'd given in.

Draco slid out of his chair and came over to sit next to Harry. "A dream?"

"I…think so." Harry stared into the fire.

"About what?"

He shook his head. "Gold and red," he spread his hands and sighed. "And screams." He saw the glances that flashed around him. He couldn't find the energy to be annoyed. He wrapped his arms around his middle and closed his eyes, seeing the flash of gold and splatter of crimson behind his lids.

He didn't have to imagine the still-ringing screams.

End Chapter Twenty-Six