DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.

WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.

A/N: Alrighty! Another chapter! XD But before we begin, I wanna say to Taylor Murphy: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the fic and if you really want, I could email you and let you know when I update. However, I don't think it's the best idea. Internet safety and all that, you know. If it's not inconvenient for you, may I suggest opening an account here and putting the fic on your alerts? It's safer and easier. :)

DEDICATION: For my darling cousin, Euko-chan, as an early birthday gift. Happy fifteenth, brat! Thank you so much for all the love and support you've given me and this fic. It wouldn't have progressed this well without you! X3

CHAPTER TWELVE: CAT'S OUT OF THE BAG?

'Harry, where in the world were you?!'

Hermione's shrill voice snapped Harry out of her thoughts and she looked up to see her two best friends and an impatient-looking Ginny standing near the foot of the steps leading to the Entrance Hall. They had obviously been waiting for her. Hermione had a look of tremendous worry on her face while Ron merely shot Harry a questioning look as she approached them.

Harry dragged on a reassuring smile as she quickly increased her speed. She had been so consumed in thinking about Malfoy and that scene in the Forbidden Forest that she had completely forgotten about her friends.

'Don't worry, I'm fine,' she said quickly when she saw Hermione peering anxiously at her face.

'But where'd you go off to?' Hermione pressed.

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second before cautiously venturing with a nonchalant shrug, 'Nowhere.'

For some inexplicable reason, she did not feel like sharing what she had witnessed in the Forest. Even the very idea of confiding in her friends – it felt like it would be some sort of a betrayal, as if what she had seen in the seclusion of those trees was for her eyes alone. The ethereal vision of Draco Malfoy surrounded by nature and standing in a golden shaft of sunlight appeared in her mind's eye again; she could still picture him stroking that Thestral, watching it with such tender eyes and talking to the beast, almost as if it were his only trusted companion in a harsh, lonely world ... it reminded her so much of her own self, when she would feel so unbearably alone, like there was an unseen barrier between her and the rest of the world, because she was different from the rest...

The sound of Hermione's voice brought her back to Earth yet again. Harry looked round bemusedly at her friend only to hear that she was still making the same inquiry all over again.

'Mione!' Harry rolled her eyes, beginning to grow annoyed now. 'I already told you, I didn't go anywhere, OK!'

'But then –'

'Just drop it, Hermione,' Ron interrupted her quietly with just a hint of a warning in his voice. The bushy-haired girl recognised his tone at once and snapped her mouth shut. There was a touch of embarrassment and hurt on her face as she averted her eyes from Harry.

Harry bit her lip, feeling a little guilty at the look on Hermione's features, but she sent Ron a smile of gratitude nevertheless. He gave a short nod in reply and Harry got the feeling that she would always be indebted to him in a way, seeing that he was the only one who could control Hermione's overbearing mother-hen attitude so that Harry could have a little space.

Ginny's imperious tones shattered the tense atmosphere at that moment. 'Alright, if you two are quite finished interrogating Harry, can we go in, please? Seamus might have already started it by now!'

'Oh, yes. Seamus. Of course,' Harry said hastily, glad for the change in subject.

'Yeah, what exactly is the bloke planning again?' Ron raised an eyebrow at his sister as the four them hurried up the steps. 'Or do I even want to know?' he added hesitantly as they reached the open doors of Hogwarts and saw the throngs of students milling about in the Entrance Hall.

'Oh, just shut up and get in there!' Ginny grabbed Ron by his shirt sleeve and yanked him inside with the other two girls following.

Harry looked around curiously at all the commotion around them. All the Hogwarts' students appeared to have crammed themselves into the Hall. Their excited voices rebounded off the high walls and Harry realised that most of them seemed to be facing a certain direction in general. Turning, Harry's eyes widened when she saw a humongous cloth-screen dominating the normally blank wall to her right. It was black in colour and reached as high as the ceiling. She stared in both disbelief and confusion.

'Impressive, isn't it?' Ginny remarked, grinning at Harry.

She raised her eyebrows. 'Impressive that Seamus managed to put that up there, yes. The thing itself is not all that impressive, though.' Harry shot Ginny a mildly frustrated look. 'You dragged us all the way over here just to see this –'

'Excessively unremarkable piece of utter dung?' Ron filled in for her, perfectly straight-faced. Harry and Hermione snorted.

'Dung? Dung?!'

Harry jumped as Seamus' exclamation sounded right in her ear. The sandy-haired boy elbowed his way forward so that he was standing directly in front of the trio.

'How can you call this stroke of genius dung?' Seamus pulled on a ridiculously comical look of despair as if he had been morally wronged. 'That, my dear acquaintances,' he said, dramatically gesturing at the black screen, 'is only the beginning, the crimson cherry on top of the mouth-watering ice cream of all the lovely schemes that my devious brain has prepared for that most revolutionary event in Hogwarts' history, otherwise known as ... Inter house Unity!' He practically yelled out the last part at the top of his lungs as he threw his arms out (and successfully thwacked Dennis Creevey in the face, nearly knocking out the unfortunate boy's eyes).

Harry and her friends just stared blankly at Seamus for a few moments in silence, and then,

'I have absolutely no idea what he just said,' Ron stated bluntly.

'Honestly, Ron, except for those last two words, neither do I,' Ginny muttered.

'Yeah, maybe it's better for everyone's mental health if you just don't make any high-flown speeches,' Harry added carelessly, smirking slightly at Seamus who looked quite put out that his theatrical dialogue had not made much of an impression on anyone.

'So,' Hermione spoke up at last, 'what is really the point of that ... thing, Seamus?'

A mischievous grin spread across the Irishman's face. 'I'm glad you asked! Now, ladies and gentleman, just watch and learn.' With that, he whirled around and aimed his wand at the screen, murmuring an incantation that Harry could not catch. She stared keenly at the black screen.

Nothing happened.

'That's it?' Ron snorted derisively. 'Yeah, that's a real eye-opener there, Seam –'

BANG!

Quite a few people screamed at the sound of the explosion. Backing away with everyone else, Harry gaped at the screen; it was ablaze, though it was no ordinary fire. Flames of a multitude of various colours, ranging from red and gold to blue and green, licked at the black cloth, but they did not appear to be causing it any damage. Slowly, the blaze died down and, before it completely abated, another explosion sounded from the screen, throwing a huge wave of golden sparks onto the watchful mob. Instinctively, Harry ducked her head, covering her eyes with a hand, and only lowered it once the sparks had vanished.

Looking up, she now saw that the black screen was no longer bare, but had a fiery design emblazoned on it. Directly in the centre was the Hogwarts crest: a large letter H surrounded by a Lion, a Serpent, a Raven and a Badger, with the school's motto, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, directly below. A moment later, more words, in the same fiery script, appeared above the emblem: United We Stand, Divided We Fall. They were, Harry remembered, the same words that Albus Dumbledore had spoken during one of his many speeches. He would have been quite touched to see this, Harry thought, a small smile unfolding on her face.

A few seconds passed before all the students in the Entrance Hall broke into applause. 'Good one, Leprechaun Boy!' someone shouted and Seamus beamed proudly as he took a large bow.

Chuckling, Harry began to clap, too. 'Alright, Seamus,' she said loudly over the noise so that he could hear her, 'I've changed my mind. I'm quite impressed!'

'Me, too,' Ron added, running a hand through his hair sheepishly.

'Of course, you are!' Seamus replied with a rather obnoxious grin as he slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. 'We're human beings; we're easily impressed by things that go kaboom with lots and lots of pretty colours to match!'

Everyone within hearing distance burst out laughing.

'Actually,' Hermione smiled, once the laughter had died down, 'that screen is quite a good idea, Seamus. "United we stand, divided we fall" – that's really very thoughtful of you...'

'Too thoughtful,' Ron frowned slightly. 'To be honest, I was expecting something a lot crazier from you –'

Another explosion sounded from the screen at that very second and the Hogwarts crest and the words upon it slowly disappeared only to be replaced with –

Harry gaped at the black cloth-screen, wide-eyed. Next moment, she was doubled over, guffawing uproariously just as the rest of the students lost their wits as well.

The words on the screen now read: I LOVE YOU, MILLIE.

'You know what? Forget I said anything,' Ron choked through his hysterics, leaning on a laughing Hermione for support.

'Oh, Merlin! Millicent Bulstrode will murder him,' Harry said, still sniggering as she straightened up.

'Doesn't look like he cares much about that, does he?' Ginny remarked with a snort, nodding towards Seamus who had wandered over to the front of the crowd and was now blowing kisses to his admiring peers.

Harry shook her head, amused. She turned to Ginny, remembering how pleased she had looked when they had met in the Forbidden Forest. 'You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?' she asked, pointing at the screen where the word LOVE was now rapidly changing colour from fiery gold to red to silver and back again.

Ginny flushed. 'Dean told me,' she admitted with a rather embarrassed smile.

Chortling, Harry turned back to Seamus. 'Trust him to turn everything, even friendship among Houses, into a joke!'

'Well ... I suppose so, but you know what, Harry? I think Seamus actually sort of meant it.'

'What?' Harry gaped at Ginny disbelievingly. 'Are you telling me that he's known Millicent Bulstrode for only a week and he's already in love with her?!'

'No-o,' her friend sounded uncertain. 'Um, I think it's more like a crush or something, actually. He seems to really fancy Millicent. Something about her being very feisty and tough; apparently he likes that sort of thing in girls and I guess that he took this "Inter house Unity" thing as a chance to give her a hint that he likes her.'

Harry raised her eyebrows at the red-haired girl before shooting a very pointed glance at the black screen. It was now alternatively flashing the Hogwarts' crest and I LOVE YOU, MILLIE.

'A hint?' she drawled, folding her arms across her chest.

Ginny giggled, running her fingers through her hair in a manner rather reminiscent of Ron. 'Well, OK, so maybe Seamus does need some urgent lessons in subtlety ...' she trailed off, a crease appearing on her forehead as she turned to glance over her shoulder. At the same time, Harry realised that the Entrance Hall had grown very quiet and turning around, she immediately saw the cause of it.

Standing atop the marble staircase, her hands resting on her hips and her blazing eyes fixed directly on one doomed Seamus Finnegan, was Millicent Bulstrode – and she did not look very happy.

Harry could almost hear all the students thinking 'Uh oh' in unison as they turned as one to stare at Seamus. He beamed happily up at Millicent, not bothered at all by her hostile glare, and he gave her a cheerful little wave, calling, 'Heyaz, Millie!'

He's dead, Harry decided, unable to suppress a small grin when Ron abruptly shouted from behind her, 'Five sickles on Bulstrode!' Within seconds, most of the other students had enthusiastically taken up on the bet as the Slytherin girl descended down the stairs, her eyes promising a painful and bloody murder.

So dead.

In the end, Ron had managed to win himself a total amount of ninety seven sickles. He happily dangled his money bag under Seamus' bandaged nose later that night after he, Harry and Hermione had returned to the Common Room after dinner.

'I'm rich!' Ron crowed joyfully as he collapsed into one of the armchairs by the fire, directly opposite Seamus and Dean. He cradled his money bag to his chest lovingly. 'I should gamble more often.'

'No, you shouldn't!' Hermione snapped, slapping Ron sharply on the shoulder as she sat down beside him. 'It's a horrid addiction! How're you feeling?' she added concernedly, turning to look at Seamus.

Harry, who was seated on the same sofa as the teen in question, snorted softly at Hermione's question as she glanced amusedly at Seamus. He was a complete mess; there was no other way to describe him. His eyes were blackened, his nose was broken and he had a remarkable amount of colourful bruises along both his arms and also, Harry suspected, on various other obscure parts of his body. His Potion's partner had not been at all merciful (until Professors Slughorn and McGonagall had dragged her away), but Seamus did not seem to care about that. He had even refused to allow Madam Pomfrey to properly patch him up.

'Psh, no worries, Hermione,' Seamus said breezily, waving her concern away. 'I'm perfectly alright.'

'I'm sure,' Ron drawled, rolling his eyes. 'Merlin, Seamus, she beat you up so bad –!'

'Well, that's not very surprising,' Hermione interjected. 'I suppose that any girl would feel embarrassed if someone hung a huge screen reading "I love you" on it in front of the whole school –'

'But still,' Harry cut her off, 'the way she went at you – it was scary! Honestly, Seamus, do you think it's a good idea to pursue the woman? I mean ... you think can have a ... well, a healthy relationship with her...?'

'Of course!' he exclaimed, looking quite offended. 'It's just a little hard to crack her shell is all, but just you wait, I'll get through to her yet.' A sudden smile crossed his face. 'She's so fiery, but I'll make her see that she likes me, too ...'

Harry raised her eyebrows wryly. 'Why do I get the feeling that you're actually very happy that she hit you?'

Seamus grinned wolfishly. 'Well, she touched me at least, didn't she? She's never touched me before. Hey, Hermione, how long do you think it's safe to stay without washing my face?'

Harry buried her face in her hands to muffle her laughter. As disturbing as Seamus' attitude to the whole situation was, she still found it absurdly funny. Above her, she could hear Hermione's quiet chuckles and Ron loudly saying, 'Mate, that's masochism right there, I'm serious!'

'Don't be an idiot, Ron. I'm not being masochistic!'

'No, you're just effing crazy! Dean, you agree with me that he needs help, right?'

Snorting, Harry leaned back in her seat and glanced at her wristwatch. The smile on her face slowly faded when she saw that it was nearly eight o' clock.

'Hey, I'll see you four later,' she said, jumping up.

'Where are you going?' Hermione asked.

'To see McGonagall; she said she wanted to meet me tonight, remember? I should see her before it gets too late.'

Waving at her friends who once more resumed their debate on Seamus' sanity (or lack thereof), Harry quickly left the Common Room. A few minutes later, she was standing in front of the stone gargoyle that barred the way to the Headmistress' office.

Harry quickly gave the password that Professor McGonagall had mentioned in the note she had sent her. The gargoyle sprang to life and lightly leapt to one side, granting her access to the spiralling staircase behind it that slowly revolved upwards like an escalator. Harry hurried inside and soon, she was facing the familiar pair of polished oak doors that she had knocked on so many times during her time at Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall answered with a curt, 'Come in' when Harry knocked. She looked up from her paperwork and, without further ado, motioned for Harry to take a seat when the Gryffindor entered the handsome, circular room.

'You wanted to see me, Professor?' Harry asked as she sat down on one of the hard, wooden chairs in front of the Headmistress' table. Behind her, Harry caught sight of the portrait of Albus Dumbledore winking at her. She bit back a smile.

'Yes, Miss Potter, thank you for being prompt,' Professor McGonagall answered crisply, moving aside the bundle of papers she had been working on before fixing the raven-haired girl with her beady eyes. 'I wanted to ask you, would you like to be reinstated on the Quidditch team?'

Harry, who had not been expecting to hear such a question, almost fell out of her chair. 'What?' she stammered, straightening up.

'The Gryffindor Quidditch team,' McGonagall repeated impatiently, looking as if she was refraining from rolling her eyes with great difficulty. 'Would you like to be reinstated as captain?'

'I – I ...' Harry stared at her Head of House, open-mouthed, still struggling to digest what she had heard. Her professor wanted her back on the team? That was – that was ... Coherent thought was beyond her as an explosion of both incredulity and joy took place within her heart. She had thought that those days were over, that she had lost her chance when she had dropped out last year...

A look of faint amusement crossed the features of the Headmistress when she saw Harry's jumbled expression. 'I put up the usual notice asking interested Gryffindor candidates to give me their names,' she elaborated, 'and I had all of your former team members badgering me to bring you back as the team captain. Many of them added that they would refuse to try out for this year's team if I didn't because, to put it in the words of Miss Demelza Robins, Harry is one of the best captains and seekers we've ever had so far and it's pointless to have a Gryffindor team without her!'

Harry could do nothing but gape at Professor McGonagall, speechless. Her words slowly sunk in at last and her heart warmed and expanded with affection for her former team and their loyalty.

'Well, Miss Potter?' Professor McGonagall prompted. 'What will it be? I informed your friends that I would leave the decision entirely up to you.'

'I ... yes,' Harry said, coming out of her daze. She nodded her head vigorously. 'My answer's yes, Professor. I'd love to be back on the team.' She could not stop the large grin that unfurled on her face. She was back on her beloved team! She could play Quidditch once more! The familiar adrenaline and exhilaration that she always felt out on the pitch were beginning to race through her nerves again...

'Very well,' McGonagall nodded sharply at her, but Harry could not help thinking that she sounded rather relieved and happy as well. 'As of now, you're the team captain and I trust that you will fulfil your responsibilities to the fullest. I shall give you the names of the interested candidates next week. As before, who is chosen for the team is your choice. And, Potter,' she added pointedly, 'do try your best, won't you? We had to cut off Quidditch last year courtesy of those ...' her lips curled in disgust, '... Death Eaters ... but as things are going back to normal now, I'd be loathed to give up the Quidditch Cup to another House.'

'Yes, Professor,' Harry grinned, already knowing how competitive Professor McGonagall could be when it came to Quidditch. Apparently, for her, the fact that she was still Head of Gryffindor House and wanting her House to win was more imperative than her being the Headmistress of the whole school.

McGonagall nodded absently and waved her away. 'You're dismissed.'

Harry was almost to the door when another thought stopped her. Hesitantly, she turned to face the other woman. Professor McGonagall was extremely strict and she was not sure she could squeeze any answers from her teacher, but it was worth a try all the same...

'Yes, what is it?' McGonagall shot at her when she saw that Harry had still not left her office.

Harry squared her shoulders and met the Headmistress' shrewd gaze determinedly. 'Professor,' she ventured carefully, 'I understand that it is not my place, but ... are we to have a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?'

Maybe she was imagining things, but Harry fancied that she saw a hint of anxiety in Professor McGonagall's eyes before she abruptly looked down at the piece of parchment before her. 'We are trying our best to find a suitable teacher for the post, Miss Potter. It is a difficult task what with the War having had just ended, but,' she raised her voice pointedly when she saw Harry opening her mouth to interrupt, 'we shall inform the students, Potter, of our ... progress.' Which quite easily translated to: "If there's anything to worry about or anything you should know, I shall let you know, so stop badgering me needlessly!"

Harry snapped her mouth shut, frustrated and unsatisfied. There was still something wrong with the picture; some piece of the puzzle that refused to fall into place. Hagrid, McGonagall – they all kept saying that the students would be given a decent head's up if anything serious was happening, but that did not clarify why they were so eager to avoid the topic of a Defence professor. Nor did the Headmistress' failure to explain said Professor's absence during the Welcome Feast add up to anything. Something, Harry was certain, was going on and major effort was being put to keep it silent and discreet.

However, feeling the sharp end-of-discussion-now-please-leave-my-office vibes exuding off her teacher, Harry admitted defeat for the time being and quietly left the circular room, ignoring the curious eyes of all the portraits that were fixed on her. Deep in fruitless thoughts that only went in circles and gave no answers, Harry broke into a run at the base of the spiralling staircase and barrelled past the stone gargoyle that had leapt aside for her, eager to return to her common room and –

'Oomph!' she grunted when she collided into something hard, tall, and apparently alive since "it" let out a winded groan as well. Her momentum sent both of them tumbling to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and torsos. 'Ow,' she heard her unintended victim hiss in pain and Harry, typically managing to feel guilty even at that moment, realised that the person must have hit their head on the stone floor.

She lay still for a few seconds, catching her breath, before she raised her head to see that she was – oh, would you believe it?! – on top of whoever it was that she had so unceremoniously crashed into. Is this becoming a habit, ending up lying on top of people? She wondered dazedly, blinking her eyes rapidly.

In the next moment, Harry would realise that, yes, it truly was becoming a habit, but – oh yes, there was a but – a habit that appeared to involve just one individual only.

She stared down in disbelief at Draco Malfoy's silver-grey eyes that glared back accusingly at her.

Again?! No, shit!

Draco wondered dryly just what the odds were of the same woman falling on top of him thrice within the space of one week. His logic told him that the odds were quite minimal, but Fate, it seemed, was determined to prove him wrong – and here was the proof. For the third time, Draco found himself lying painfully on his back with one very shocked and embarrassed-looking Hariah Potter sprawled on his chest.

This is becoming ridiculously cyclic.

'You know, Potter,' he drawled when she failed to react, 'I am seriously beginning to doubt that your tendency to fall on me every opportunity you get is genuinely accidental. Are you on some sort of noble mission to crush the life out of me?'

She ignored his jibe and rolled off his body quickly. Her face was flushed red and she avoided his eyes as she struggled to her feet.

Repressing a groan, Draco sat up and rubbed the back of his head tenderly. For a moment, the memory of the last time he had been in this exact same position on the library floor arose in his mind, and colour suffused his cheeks when he remembered the accident. But then, his irritation and annoyance overrode it.

Honestly, couldn't he even take a simple detour to see the Headmistress without suffering physical injury in the process? He had just wanted to ask her not to allow in any more nosy reporters, but apparently, he had to nearly have his skull cracked open by the Chosen One as a price.

Inside, Draco knew that it was just his bad mood that was making him mentally lash out at Potter (who probably had not meant to run him over, his logic whispered), but still, that did not stop him from glowering furiously at the girl as he got to his feet. He was still incensed and emotionally shaken from his earlier conversation with Rita Skeeter; that temporary peace he had experienced in the Thestral's company had lasted only for so long before his insecurities had returned in full force, and now it felt good to have someone near at hand to take his anger out on.

For just a second, Hariah Potter shot him a look that was both apologetic and guilty. Her eyes lingered concernedly on his aching head, and then she turned to hurry away, awkwardly mumbling 'Sorry' over her shoulder.

'What, no kiss this time, Harry?' Draco said snidely, unable to help himself.

As expected, she stopped in her tracks and whirled around to face him, her eyes shooting daggers. Draco smirked, pleased to have gotten a rise out of her so easily. It was a good feeling to know that he still had the same effect on her nerves that he had had for all these years.

'What,' Potter hissed angrily, jabbing a finger in his direction, 'is your problem, Malfoy?'

'I believe that it is you who can't seem to keep yourself off me?'

'You know perfectly well that I didn't do it on purpose,' she snapped exasperatedly, storming towards him. 'And if you had cared to listen just now, pretty boy, I said I was sorry!'

'Aw, you think I'm pretty?' He leered at her, deliberately disregarding the rest of what she had said. 'No wonder you can't keep your hands to yourself.'

Her jaw nearly hit the ground. She glared at him in outrage, eyes bulging. 'You – you – I ... You're so bloody obnoxious!' She was almost yelling now. 'Why would you think that I would even want to touch you?!'

'Well, for one thing, you're invading my personal bubble,' he drawled easily, smirking. Potter opened her mouth to retort, but her words caught in her throat when she saw that he was right. In her fury, she had come to stand right in front of him, much closer than strictly necessary. They were only separated by mere inches.

'Honestly, Potter, if you wanted to touch so desperately, all you had to do was ask,' he said mock-indulgently, aiming an infuriating smile at her.

He knew that he was angering her; he could see it in her eyes as she glared defiantly at him, refusing to back down. The sight of her outrage egged him on, calming the bitterness that Skeeter had evoked in him.

It was something he had been doing from a very young age: transferring his anger into someone else with a few choice phrases and insults. It helped to soothe his nerves and made him feel like he was the one in charge, and that was comforting. However, it probably was not exactly a "good" thing for him to do now that he was supposed to be all Light and everything, but somehow, the process still managed to make him feel good; it was oddly calming.

Besides, Draco thought, old habits die hard.

Meanwhile, Potter was visibly struggling not to lose control. Her hands were balled into fists at her side and her eyes were fixed on his face, filled with antipathy and abhorrence. His lips twitched at the familiarity of her aggressive glare.

Draco tsk'ed. 'Staring so much at me, Potter. Like what you see?'

She was about to make a scathing reply, but Draco stepped forward, closing the distance between their bodies and effectively shutting her up. 'I didn't know you swung my way, Potter,' he continued in a purr, smirking down at her upturned face. 'You really should have let me known sooner.'

He could feel her trembling against him, but whether from anger or embarrassment he was not sure. Both emotions had graced her features at his close proximity and if looks could kill, he knew that he would have dropped dead ten times over by now. He was about to make a sardonic comment about that when abruptly, almost involuntarily, Potter's eyes dipped to focus on his mouth. Draco did not miss the blush that immediately spread over her face, nor could he resist the leer that forced itself onto his lips.

'What are you thinking about?' He murmured, leaning closer.

Potter squeezed her eyes shut and made to back away but, without thinking, Draco shot out an arm and wrapped it around her waist, pinning her to him.

'Are you remembering?' Draco breathed, crushing her even closer to him.

She was gazing at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. All traces of anger and antagonism had vanished.

'Tell me, Harry, are you remembering? That little incident in the library? Is that what you're thinking about?' At his words, her eyes darted to his lips again. Draco smirked slightly, relishing the power he was having over her. 'I think you are,' he crooned, angling his head so close to hers that their noses brushed together. 'Tell me, did you enjoy it? Do you want another one, perhaps? Another ... kiss?' His lips lightly grazed over hers tantalisingly.

'Ma – Malfoy, what ... what are you doing?' Her voice was cracked and had a slight tremor. Gone was the passionate fire of her rage and fury. Hearing the contrasting difference in her tone was what finally brought him back to his senses. His eyes focussed on her green ones and he saw, more clearly than ever, the incredulity in them mixed with ... fear?

He was scaring her.

Draco instantly knew that he should let go of her and get the hell away. He stared at her, not knowing what to think. He had begun this game as a way of venting his frustration, to rile up someone else like he had always done when he was angry. But somehow, without thinking, through all the taunts and insults he had somehow managed to turn the whole thing into something physical ... sexual, even. He had taken it too far.

His eyes burned into Potter's as he grew extremely aware of how she was pressed flush against him; he could feel every inch, every curve and contour of her form through their clothes that had begun to feel stiflingly suffocative. She was so close, too close ... he would barely have to lean forward to cover her mouth in his, to slide his tongue between her parted lips and have a taste of her...

Get away! A voice inside his head hissed at him vehemently, but Draco found himself unable to obey. His arm refused to come off her waist and her natural scent, teasing his senses with its alluring sweetness, only pulled his face closer to her own ... their lips brushed together again and Draco felt an overwhelming urge to just push her against the nearest wall and snog her senseless, just have his wicked way with her and make her scream his name...

'Malfoy...' The word was whispered, and before his brain could even process it, a pair of hands rested on his chest and he was abruptly pushed away, almost making him stumble.

Breathing raggedly, Draco raised his head. Potter stood stock straight, gaping at him. She still looked scared by what he had done – he himself could not explain why his actions had gone the way they had – but there was also an air of great confusion surrounding her. She stood where she was for another moment before she turned on her heel and almost ran up the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

Draco stood unmoving, staring after her. He felt baffled by what had happened – by what he had done – and his bamboozled mind refused to provide the answers he so desperately needed. However, quite incongruously, only one thought occurred to him at that time:

That Hariah Potter had not denied that she had enjoyed their accidental kiss in the library.

Blaise Zabini watched his partner with shrewd eyes as she gathered her half of the ingredients together and deposited them on a nearby table before approaching the boiling cauldron they were sharing. It had been a few weeks since the beginning of the term and the seventh year Potions class had finally gotten started on their Verita project a couple of weeks ago. Professor Slughorn had divided his paired pupils into the small dungeon chambers surrounding the Potions' classroom so that all his students would have enough space to brew their concoctions. Most of them had ended up with four students to a single room, but by some lucky chance, Blaise and Harry had got the last room to themselves.

He considered it lucky because there were a few things that he wanted to discuss with his partner – alone.

Honestly, it had been too easy, he mused as he carefully stirred the bubbling mixture in the cauldron while Harry added powdered unicorn horn into it with a caution that suggested that the whole thing would blow up in her face if she made the slightest mistake (which it most probably would).

I should have realised it from the start, he thought, shooting the girl a quick glance before returning his attention to his task.

After Rita Skeeter's unwelcome visit to Draco, Blaise had gotten around to thinking a great deal about his friend's engagement over the past several days. It had not taken long at all before he had arrived at his conclusion, and to be honest, he did not particularly feel very proud of himself for figuring it out. After all, what with all the clues that Draco had unwittingly laid bare coupled with the tell-tale hints Blaise himself had picked up, the answer had been crystal clear.

A girl that attended Hogwarts and knew Draco Malfoy personally, a girl who apparently did not swoon at the thought of "one true love" and had been – according to Draco (and Rita Skeeter) – deliberately avoiding a confrontation with said Malfoy heir, a girl that was being "protected" by Ronald Weasley of all people ... the answer had been right in front of their noses the whole time!

Taking the protected-by-Ron-Weasley clue alone had been enough for Blaise. There were only three girls in Hogwarts to whom Weasley could be so attached as to try and "protect" them from one of his arch-enemies: his best friends, Hariah Potter and Hermione Granger, and his younger sister, Ginny Weasley. All three of them knew Draco and none of them particularly liked the Slytherin so Blaise could imagine them staying as far away as possible under the current circumstances. All that had been left was to find out exactly which one of them had gotten the ring.

Blaise had not even spent more than three seconds contemplating this dilemma. His thoughts had immediately leapt to the black glove that had never come off of Hariah Potter's left hand in public this school term, and her extreme reluctance to divulge anything about it when he had questioned her earlier. This train of thought had brought up the memory of her fiddling with "something" on her gloved finger during that memorable Charms class and, of course, his logic had immediately told him that it had been the Malfoy ring.

Harry Potter was The One, to put it shortly (and dramatically).

His belief had been further strengthened when he had taken it upon himself to ensure that Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were not possible candidates for being Draco's fiancée. Blaise had taken casual situations – such as passing each other in the corridors or during classes they shared – as opportunities to peek at their hands: neither of the two girls had the ring nor were either of them wearing anything on their hands and/or fingers that could conceal any such rings.

Thus, the only possible one left was his Potion's partner. Blaise raised his eyes again and shot her a long glance while she carefully cut up some dandelion roots for the Verita Potion. It is so obvious, he thought, shaking his head slightly. Any fool could figure it out.

However, there was one fool that still could not see what was so glaringly evident: Draco.

How was it possible that his friend had not managed to join the dots yet? The question still befuddled Blaise no end. All the clues were currently shoved in Draco's face, but he still had yet to string them together. It had been days since Blaise had deduced that Harry Potter was the girl his friend was searching for, but Draco? He was still no closer to the truth than he had been when he had first wished upon those rings! It was positively maddening how exceedingly blind the Malfoy heir was being. Draco was not by any means unintelligent; that Blaise knew extremely well, but he was being nothing short of stupid now. Blaise had already begun to count down to the moment when he would smash his friend's dumb head through the nearest window when the last of his patience evaporated.

Why can't he see what is right under his nose? He wondered, frustrated. Surely, he must at least suspect that...! Blaise brought his internal rant to a halt as another thought occurred to him.

Something, he wasn't sure what exactly, but something was preventing Draco from realising the truth about Harry Potter. That was the only explanation Blaise could think of. Draco was a sharp man; he should have grasped the situation a long time ago, but he had not because some unexplained issue was making him look the other way...

Can it be ... denial, perhaps? Blaise frowned, deep in thought. He did not know all the details concerning Draco Malfoy and Hariah Potter, so he could not know for sure. He did not exactly want to ask Draco, either. After all, he had befriended the blond Slytherin only a few months ago and, though Draco was warmer and more open around him than in general, Blaise knew that he had not revealed his darkest deepest secrets yet; their close friendship had not yet evolved so much as to involve that sort of intimacy. But Blaise did know for certain that Draco harboured more emotions and thoughts concerning the Chosen One than merely the "she-refused-my-hand-and-humiliated-me-so-I-loathe-her" feelings he had already divulged. There was something more, and perhaps that was what was making Draco so blind.

Blaise could easily believe that, too. After all, even he had not imagined that Hariah Potter could have possibly been chosen by the ring. That was probably why he had not suspected her from the very beginning even when all the subtle hints had been dropped. The same thing – perhaps on a different and larger scale – could be happening to Draco.

For a moment, he felt extremely satisfied, glad that things were finally making some sense, but then another recollection struck him, crumpling his contentment: Draco had been acting extremely odd over the past few weeks and his behaviour was bugging Blaise more and more every passing day.

Ever since the War and the prison trials had ended, Draco had distanced himself from the rest of the world; he had become cold and indifferent, and honestly, Blaise could not blame him. The ordeals that his friend had gone through would have done the same to anyone. However, Draco had been acting even more aloof in public than before, even to Blaise to whom he was fairly amicable. Most of the time, it seemed like he was lost in another world and there was a constant aura of confusion, frustration and apprehension surrounding him. Something was obviously bothering the blond, but he refused to confide in Blaise, not even when the brunet had finally given in and asked outright.

Draco had only recovered from this state just once – and that, too, only temporarily – when Rita Skeeter had published her article that had gone on to become outrageously popular. It had started off innocently enough with Skeeter dutifully reporting Draco's answers word for word, but before the end, she had cunningly dropped in the paragraph that had nearly sent the Malfoy over the edge; the one heavily hinting that he was still unaware of his fiancée's identity, and that there were doubts now about the ring's reliability as well as the million-galleon question: if a girl had been chosen, who was she and why was she avoiding the much desired Malfoy heir?

Draco had not taken it well. Mainly because the result of the article had been dozens of his fan girls coming up to him to demand if it really was true and, since his fiancée was avoiding him, would he please consider one of them as a potential future Mrs Malfoy? Oh no, he had not taken it well at all. Blaise had even thought he would sue Rita Skeeter for "making baseless assumptions", but within a few days, Draco had shockingly let the whole thing go. He had become broody again, and it was obvious that those other thoughts had taken over his mind once more, brushing aside Skeeter's article.

Defeated and worried, Blaise had taken to observing his friend closely, and he had slowly come to notice that Draco's frustrated side came up more frequently when Hariah Potter was around. Her mere presence would make him freeze up and, more often than not, his gaze would remain locked on her and his eyes would cloud over with the now familiar uncertainty, confusion and a deep frustration. Seeing this, it had made Blaise wonder if it was something about her that was constantly occupying Draco's thoughts.

Then he had begun to notice that even Harry acted oddly in Draco's presence. That same confusion and doubt were reflected in her eyes whenever she saw him, and she was also displaying signs of self-consciousness. Out of the corner of his eyes, Blaise had frequently observed a light blush that would dust her countenance at the sight of Draco, and she was always quick to break eye contact with the blond whenever she caught him staring at her – and that was extremely out of character since she had never been one to back down from a challenge by Draco Malfoy, even immature ones such as staring contests.

Obviously, something had happened between the both of them, and the fact that Draco was keeping him in the dark was getting on Blaise' last nerve. A series of complicated events were occurring between those two, intertwining their distinctly separate lives with one another, and Blaise was quickly getting tired of all the drama. Though he was still uninformed of all the facts, he wanted to end it all so that everyone could walk away with their respective happy endings. And to achieve that, he had to take the first step:

See with his own eyes that it really was the Malfoy engagement ring beneath Harry Potter's glove before he informed Draco of the fact. Though he was certain that she was The One, he still needed proof for himself; and Blaise Zabini – who had the Slytherin gift of discreetly manipulating casual conversations to get the answers that he wanted – was going to get it, one way or the other.

'Careful, Harry,' he murmured demurely, watching as his partner chopped up the roots zealously. 'They have to be exactly the same length, remember. Else the potion could have unwanted side effects.'

'I know!' Harry snapped. The stress of getting even the smallest detail right was making her irritable, and the cold dampness of the dungeon room was not helping in the least. 'I'm trying my best, Blaise.' She cut up the remaining pieces with more calm and grudgingly checked their lengths before turning to glower at the cauldron. 'They're done. Now what?'

He smiled gently at her. 'We have to add the root pieces one by one, keeping an equal time interval between each addition. Also, we have to gradually increase the size of the fire while we add the roots ...' He hesitated, recalling her rather haphazard ways when dealing with delicate ingredients. 'Why don't you do the stirring while I add them?' He offered generously. "That'll be easier for you and there'd be less danger of possible explosions" was left unsaid.

Looking extremely relieved, Harry stepped forward and took over the stirring. Blaise gathered up the roots and prepared to drop them into the concoction. 'Harry,' he said seriously, 'while I add these, slowly make the fire bigger, OK? More heat is needed for about twenty minutes after the dandelion roots are added.'

'Um,' Harry bit her lip, looking unsure of herself, but then she awkwardly got out her wand with her left hand at aimed it at the bottom of the cauldron while continuing to stir with her right.

Blaise nodded. 'Slowly now.' With that, he began to drop the cut-up roots one after the other, timing each drop by mentally murmuring one hippogriff, two hippogriff, three... Harry watched warily as the potion's colour faded from a light blue to colourless while she magically fed the fire with her wand. Blaise, who was still counting the seconds as he added the roots, chanced a quick glance downwards and nodded his head sharply at Harry, indicating that the fire was not big enough. Nervously, Harry murmured 'Incendio' a little more forcefully, encouraging the flames.

Dropping the last piece into the potion, Blaise straightened up, pleased that that part of the procedure had gone well. But then his eyes fell on the fire and he realised with a start that it was still dangerously small. Harry's anxiety of doing something wrong had made her put very little magic behind her incantations, and the flames could not supply the required amount of heat at their current level. That's not good! He thought, unnerved. According to their textbooks, Verita was extremely sensitive to even the slightest changes.

Without stopping to think rationally, Blaise cried out, 'Harry! The fire! Make it bigger, hurry! Before it goes wrong!'

His horror at the situation immediately sent the already edgy girl into a panic. Frantically, she poked her wand straight into the flames, simultaneously shouting 'Incendio!' at the top of her voice.

Shit, was the only coherent thought that passed through Blaise' mind before the chaos began. The sudden surge of her magic had the fire immediately flaring out in a deadly wave and its sheer size cocooned the entire cauldron as the flames reached higher and higher. With a yell, Harry had leapt back from the cauldron, nearly knocking over a table while Blaise, getting his head back together, leapt forward quickly. With only the thought of saving the potion that they had worked so hard to get right, he whipped out his wand and struggled to diminish the inferno, shouting the spells so loudly that they made no sense even to his own ears.

It took several seconds before the blaze weakened enough for him to control it. Breathing hard, he made the flames up to the right size before looking around to check on Harry. The blood drained from his face when his eyes focussed on the scene before him: Harry's left arm was aflame up to the elbow. She had dropped her wand and was currently trying to beat out the flames, her entire face twisted in pain and fear.

'Blaise, help!' she half-shouted.

He did not hesitate for even a second. 'Aguamenti!' he yelled, sending a huge jet of water directly at her. The flames were doused at once and Harry fell back against a table, panting.

'Merlin! Are you alright?' Blaise exclaimed, running to her side. Without answering, she ripped off her ruined glove and tenderly cradled her arm, suppressing pained moans as her eyes roved over the burnt skin. Blaise winced at the sight of her raw blisters; those must be excruciating.

'We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,' he said anxiously, taking her hand very gently in his and pouring more water with his wand to soothe the burns. Biting her lip, Harry nodded weakly. He could feel her shivering and realised that he had soaked not only her arm with his earlier Aguamenti, but her entire body as well. He poured some more water onto her injuries just in case and was about to shout for Slughorn when, inevitably, his eyes fell on the glittering engagement band on her reddened finger. Blaise stared at the Malfoy ring, deadpanned. He was not surprised; he had been expecting it after all, but still, actually seeing it made the whole situation so much more real than merely figuring it out in his brain.

She truly is the one.

Harry realised what he was looking at only a moment later. Even through all the pain she was experiencing, her shock and nervousness-bordering-on-fear shone through. Speechless and lost, she stared at him who returned her gaze neutrally, his eyes betraying nothing.

'Blaise –' she began, but next second, the door of the room was practically blasted open and Professor Slughorn came barrelling inside, wheezing.

'What is it?' He looked around wildly. 'I could hear shouting from all the way across the dungeons!'

'It's alright, Professor,' Blaise answered mechanically. 'The fire got out of hand, but it's under control now. However, I think Harry needs to see Madam Pomfrey. She got burnt.'

'Merlin's beard! That is –!' Slughorn's eyes widened when he saw Harry's arm. He strode forward quickly and began to lead her outside. Wordlessly, Blaise picked up Harry's slightly scorched wand and handed it to her as she passed him.

'To the Hospital Wing at once, my dear. Those are some serious burns, you must be careful! You should know –'

Ignoring her teacher, Harry looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin. 'Blaise,' she cried out, her voice laced with desperation as Slughorn, looking slightly puzzled at her outburst, gently nudged her out of the room. 'Don't tell him! Don't – I ... I'm not ready for this, Blaise. Please! Don't tell him!'

He said nothing as he watched her being led away.

'Oh my God, Harry! Are you alright?'

Hermione and Ron came bursting into the Hospital Wing, causing Madam Pomfrey to look up disapprovingly at them from where she was bandaging Harry's arm. Ignoring her, both of them ran to their friend's side.

'Is it true that you were on fire –?!'

'We came as soon as Potions ended –!'

'I'm fine,' Harry spoke over them, smiling reassuringly. 'It's just my arm.' She watched as Madam Pomfrey rubbed a bit more of the healing orange-coloured paste onto her wrist and fingers before wrapping the gauze around them. She tensed as the nurse's fingers brushed against the exposed ring, but the woman was too absorbed by what she was doing to take much notice of it.

'There,' she said finally, gathering up her materials. 'Now lie still and rest for a few minutes before leaving – rest!' She pushed Harry firmly down onto the bed when the girl made to get off. 'And then you can return to you classes.'

Muttering something that suspiciously sounded like '– always some accident or the other –' and '– only person to get sent here so much –', Madam Pomfrey left for her small office, leaving Harry alone with her friends.

'How did it happen?' Ron and Hermione asked at once.

'I was in charge of the fire. I made one small mistake. And then I lost my head ... It was Potions.'

Ron snorted in amusement, understanding her cryptic answer immediately. Even Hermione had to fight down a chuckle.

'Well, at least it wasn't anything too bad,' she murmured, gently taking Harry's arm in her hands and caressing it over the bandages.

The smile on Harry's face vanished and her eyes darkened. 'Yes, it was,' she muttered, averting her eyes.

'What'd you mean?' Ron frowned.

'Harry?' Hermione pressed when she did not answer, concerned at the abrupt change in her mood.

She sighed. 'Blaise Zabini ... he knows.'

'What –?'

'He saw the ring.'

Harry met the stunned eyes of her best friends dejectedly. Both of them stared at her, neither knowing how to respond to her blunt announcement.

'So ...' Ron began uncertainly after a few seconds of silence, 'it's over now?'

'I don't know,' Harry shook her head, feeling tired and frazzled. She had pleaded with Blaise not to tell Malfoy, but towards whom did the Slytherin have a greater sense of duty – Hariah Potter, his Potions partner, or Draco Malfoy, his closest friend? It was not hard to guess.

She looked up, her eyes burning with an odd combination of worry and determination. 'I have to talk to him.'

Harry did not get a chance to corner Blaise Zabini at all until the next day during lunch hour. By then, her fear that he must have already confided in Malfoy had nearly driven the last of her sanity right out of her mind and she was constantly on edge, always expecting Malfoy to come up behind her with his accusations. Alright, so maybe the sanity part was a bit of an exaggeration, but the thought of an unpredicted confrontation with Malfoy was making her jittery.

Thus, it was with both relief and dread that she caught sight of Blaise and Malfoy leaving the Great Hall just as she and her friends were about to enter. She hesitated momentarily, pondering the wisdom of approaching Blaise with the blond around, but she had no other classes with him until Wednesday and she seriously needed to talk to him; she had to know if her secret was out or if he had respected her wishes – now. Dredging up whatever Gryffindor courage that she had, she abruptly stepped away from her surprised friends and darted up to Blaise. Without giving either of the Slytherins any time to react, she grabbed Blaise by the hand and forcibly dragged him away, trying to ignore the feel of Draco Malfoy's eyes locked on her.

'Harry, what are you doing?' Blaise asked, sounding as surprised as Ron and Hermione had looked. Ignoring his question, she pushed him into one of the empty chambers off the Entrance Hall and locked the door, casting a Muffliato spell for extra precaution.

'Did you tell him?' she demanded, proud that her voice was steady and did not tremble under the weight of her inward anxiety.

Comprehension dawned on Blaise at once and his eyes became impassive and unreadable.

'Did you tell Malfoy about the ring?' she repeated more forcefully when he did not reply.

'Harry –'

'Yes or no, Blaise! I need to know.'

Blaise closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before fixing Harry with an intense look. She met his stare dead on, the hard expression on her face masking the consternation within.

Keeping his voice low and level, Blaise answered her question smoothly, 'No.'

Harry blinked. Relief was the first emotion that flooded her heart, but her astonishment was quick to follow. She had been so sure, so damn certain that Blaise would have revealed everything to Malfoy the first chance he got. Though she had fervently hoped otherwise, she had not been optimistic that he would protect her little skeleton in the cupboard; since Blaise and Malfoy appeared to be such close friends...

As if he knew what she was thinking, Blaise spoke up firmly, 'No, I haven't told him yet, Harry, but Draco is a dear friend to me and I have no intentions of keeping him in the dark about this. I promised that I would help him find the girl and now that I have, I'm fully obligated to tell him. The reason I have not done so yet is because I want you to be the one to tell him.'

'What ...?' Harry breathed, taking an automatic step away from Blaise.

'Yes,' he continued gravely. 'You got the ring, you're his fiancée, and so you should inform him about it –'

'No, Blaise,' Harry shook her head. 'I – I can't. I'm not ... I just can't confront him about this.'

'Why not?' He asked, frowning.

'I ...' Her voice trailed off. Running her fingers through her hair, Harry began to pace back and forth in front of the Slytherin, confused and aggravated at herself. That's just the question, isn't it? She thought irritably. Why? Why was she avoiding Malfoy? It was not that she was scared of him; and that they had been eternal rivals which made the "engaged" situation simply embarrassing for her was not a really good argument either. But still, there was some instinct that was telling her to run away. It was right there at the very back of her mind; she could not grasp the elusive answer, but she knew that it was not mere cowardice that was making her fight tooth and nail against this engagement.

Harry exhaled loudly through her mouth, baffled and discouraged. Nothing made sense at this point. The whole engagement affair had turned into a cat-and-mouse game and she had no idea why she was still playing it instead of just facing the problem straight on. And Malfoy? She winced as she felt colour rising in her cheeks. It would have been so much easier to deal with her little "ring problem" if she could just simply hate or ignore him, but of course the git had to turn everything into an even more complicated mess, like he had done that night...

She groaned out loud at the recollection, ignoring Blaise who was watching her pacing-antics cynically. Honestly, one touch from Draco Malfoy and every single thing she had believed to be true seemed to have flown out of the window. It was bad enough that the memory of their accidental kiss in the library still lingered, but after that night, she had even begun to question whether she actually felt attracted to Draco Malfoy! Several weeks ago, Harry would have laughed at the notion, but now, she found it harder and harder to just lightly brush it aside...

He's never touched me like that before, she thought, discomfited. They had insulted, taunted and verbally fought each other plenty of times in the past, but intimate physical contact had never been involved. That night was the first time Draco Malfoy had deliberately touched her in such a sensual manner and Harry did not think that getting turned on was how she should have reacted to her rival's advances ... because that was exactly how she had felt at the time: aroused – by Draco Malfoy no less! Yes, she had been scared by what he had done, too, but there was no doubt that he had evoked a lustful yearning within her. The thought was still terrifying...

So there it was. Her rival had pretty much sexually harassed her, she had as good as enjoyed the harassment, after which he had taken to staring at her all the time, not to mention that she was secretly engaged to said rival who was still searching for his fiancée that was altogether avoiding him like the plague ... What a mess! Even the forbidden realms of Seamus' twisted mind can't be as screwed up as this. And she still could not explain why she was running away from everything...

'Ahem.'

Harry jumped, finally remembering that Blaise was still with her and was waiting for an answer. With a sigh, she turned to face him. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

'I don't know, Blaise,' she answered slowly. 'I can't explain why I don't want to face Malfoy right now because even I myself can't figure it out, but ...' she looked pleadingly at him, 'please, Blaise, don't make me do this. I'm just not ready for it.'

'You've had nearly four months by now to get ready,' he shot at her.

Stung, Harry opened her mouth to retort that she had not known the truth until about three weeks ago, but Blaise cut her off,

'Look, Harry, you've had that ring for a long time. You cannot remove it on your own or by any magical means; it's just impossible. Only Draco can do it. Besides, you've already had enough time to think about all this, and as for Draco, he's been waiting for his fiancée for a hell of a long time, and now that I know it's you, I'm begging you to tell him!' He looked pleadingly at Harry. 'Please, Harry, you need to let him know. Not knowing who the girl is – it's making Draco suffer a lot. You don't know what he's going through and it's not my place to try and explain what he's feeling or his insecurities, but trust me when I say that it is vital that you reveal yourself to him!'

Harry backed away, shaking her head helplessly as she tried to stomach his words. 'Blaise, please, don't ... I ... I dunno if ...'

His eyes hardened considerably. 'I do not want to see my friend suffer needlessly anymore! Draco has a right to know of this, but ... I shall wait and see if you inform him first ... I cannot force you to do anything, but if you do not tell him very soon, Hariah, then I will.' He fixed her with an unwavering, but not unkind, look before he left the chamber, leaving her alone.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty and shock. The terms that Blaise had laid in front of her were not ones that she could easily accept, but her agitated mind could register one thing very clearly: Hariah. For the first time since she had permitted him to call her Harry, Blaise had used her given name. He had been completely serious then; he would tell Malfoy ... if she did not do it herself.

Draco was silent as he leisurely strolled along the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. It was not yet time for curfew, but it was nearing and the corridors were devoid of any life. Only a few torches were lit and the light they cast was weak and eclipsed by the silver swathes of moonlight that filtered through the large windows. He paused by one and leaned against the sill, enjoying the cool night air that caressed his face.

It was a habit he had taken up lately, this wandering around the castle at night before going to bed. He found that it helped to clear his mind, washing away all the thoughts and worries that haunted his every waking thought. Tonight, however, emptying his mind proved to be more difficult. The short conversation he had had with Blaise earlier was hard to push away.

'What did Potter want just now?'

'... Nothing.'

'Really? Hn, she seemed a bit too eager to talk to you for it to have been just nothing.'

'Let it go, Drake. It was not important. Some drivel about our Potions' project...'

Draco was not fooled, though. He had caught onto Blaise' uneasiness and his hurry to change the subject; he was hiding something.

Before he could even begin to try and solve the mystery, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Draco whirled around at once, sensing the presence of another behind him. 'Who's there?' he barked, pulling out his wand.

There was a slight movement in the shadows and the person slowly, almost hesitantly, stepped forward into the moonlight. Draco blinked in surprise when he saw who it was.

'What are you doing here?' he asked quietly, lowering his wand.

'There's – there's something I have to tell you ... It's about your engagement.'

A/N: DUN DUN DUN! Who could it be? Blaise? Harry? Hermione or Ginny? Or the "person in the shadows" (refer to end of Chapter 10)? Only time will tell! XD

Which reminds me: LAST CHANCE TO VOTE, PEOPLE! I'll be closing the poll on my profile before uploading the next chapter, so drop in a vote now if you haven't yet! :)

PS: Don't you just love cliffhangers? XD ::gets shot::

NEXT: CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Tipped On It's Axis