A/N: So, I know it's been a really long time since I've updated. I don't want to list excuses of how I was busy or how I had this or that. I was, but it doesn't matter. Truth be told, I had a major lack of motivation for a while, and it took some effort to crank this chapter out. It's unbeta'ed for now, but I've sent it, and I should be getting it back in a little bit. If you'd rather wait until then, that's fine with me, but in any case, I felt bad waiting considering how long it's already taken. On a final note, the chapter of this title doesn't belong to me any more than Harry Potter does (obviously). Without further ado, enjoy the chapter.

"Are you ready?" Granger asked me. I shrugged my shoulders in response. My goal was to focus on everything but people's responses. Their faces were sure to be grotesquely pulled into mocking smiles. There was definitely going to be no lack of taunts. A lump formed in my throat just imagining it. Then, I practically groaned at the thought of getting another panic attack.

"Dean, where are you going?" I jerked my head up to see Thomas down the stairs, presumably to the Dungeons.

"Erm, Transfiguration. I need to finish some homework." He continued running as if he were in a great hurry.

"That's strange."

"What was?"

"Well, not only did we not have any Transfigurations homework, but I'm fairly sure you don't go to the Dungeons to get to Transfiguration." I shrugged my shoulders again, and we entered the Great Hall.

At least this time I wasn't singled out by walking down to the table alone. People were still filing in regularly, and I kept my head down. "Look up. Come on, you're supposed to seem proud and defiant." I lifted my chin reluctantly, and was pleased to see that not everyone was looking at me with complete disgust. Some people were merely confused. Granger smiled and looked at me as if to show everyone whose side she was on. I had to admit that I did greatly appreciate it.

As we approached the Gryffindor table, though, any little wisps of happiness I had evaporated quickly. Most of the table looked at me with no lack of revulsion. The face that most stood out had to be Weasley's. His face was a deep red with anger, a shade that had to match his vivid hair, and his expression was contorted into one of the utmost repulsion.

"You brought him here, Hermione? Bloody hell, I'm going to vomit." Great, he was talking as if I wasn't even there.

"Give him a chance. I told you, I preformed the spell. He never meant for Harry to get hurt." Weasley wouldn't believe her. Neither would Finnegan.

"How can you believe that? He's a first class git. No matter what he's dressed in," Finnegan muttered. Neville, on the other hand, bashfully looked at his food, refusing to say anything. He met my glace once, and gave me an incredibly brief, timid smile.

"Look, I didn't mean for Harry to get hurt," I added.

"Right, just like you don't want him to die," Weasley retorted. "Just like you're not a fucking perverted git like the rest of the Slytherins." I stood up and angrily began to storm away.

"I don't need to listen to any of you."

"Malfoy, wait!" Granger called. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me back – the nerve!

"Let go of me you filthy, little Mu –" I was cut off by Weasley's pestering voice.

"He's still calling you that and you continue to believe in that damn spell?"

"He's just angry, Ron!" She turned around to face me, a twinkle in her eye that reminded me of Dumbledore's. "Ignore him. Please, just try to sit with us. You can't avoid everyone forever." I yanked my hand away from her grip.

"Alright," I spat, sitting down with my arms crossed and eyes focused on the table. "If he tries to insult me one more time, I can't promise I won't just kill him, though."

"Ron, just try to shut your mouth."

"Oh, so I'm the one who has to shut up! Precious Malfoy in his pretty eyeliner is too irresistible for you? Let me guess, he gave you a puppy pout and you just couldn't say no. Only a fool would believe that he's innocent."

"I – I believe Hermione," Neville stuttered. He looked absolutely nervous to be joining the argument.

"Stay out of this, Neville," Granger gently pleaded.

"This is ridiculous. I'm leaving." I got up and began to walk away. Granger's didn't attempt to pull me back, but she did call my name. I didn't listen though; I didn't know why I even bothered to listen to her in the first place.

Oh, there was laughter from all around when I left the room. I wasn't even sure if it was directed toward me or whether my angered mind was just amplifying it, but at this point all I wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as possible. In any case, it only made me appreciate the silence in the halls more.

I couldn't even feel any satisfaction in causing chaos among the Gryffindors. Of course, that may have had more to do with the fact that only a few people were on my side, and certainly none of them were Slytherins. This whole situation was a mess. And for once, I wanted to crawl away from the centre of attention. Just curling up for a peaceful night's rest seemed like a wonderful thought – no worries about Harry or anyone else. There wouldn't be a nightmare or plaguing fear that something horrible could happen. I'd just shut my eyes and fall asleep.

As I made my way to the Slytherin common room, I walked straight into someone. That person yelped, and I looked up, ready to yell at whomever it was. Tell the person to fuck off and leave me alone. Only it wasn't a Slytherin.

Dean Thomas looked at me, an uncertain look plastered on his face. "Erm, hello Malfoy." I'd never seen him look more nervous. "What are you doing here?"

"I could very easily ask you the same thing," I hissed.

"Maybe you could just leave…" Was a Gryffindor seriously asking me to get out of my own House's common room? I was about to reply, when another voice came from upstairs.

"Bloody hell, are you coming up here or not, Dean? I don't want someone to barge in on us!" I knew that voice. There was no way that I was hearing it correctly, though. It couldn't be –

"I think it's a bit to late for that," Thomas whispered to himself.

"Dean," he voice whined again, and against all odds, the man I knew it belonged to presented himself, wearing nothing but boxers.

"Blaise?" I was sure that if I could see myself, my expression would be priceless. Still, I refused to believe what I saw. Blaise would never do anything with a Gryffindor if he could help it, would he?

"Draco!" His face momentarily flashed from anger to fear. "What the hell are you doing down here?"

"What the hell are you doing with Thomas?"

"Oh, you're one to talk. Unless everything that happened with Potter was a charade?" he sneered.

"I can't believe you! You've been with a Gryffindor all this time, but you didn't say anything? You even encouraged them in their fun little game of 'let's mock Draco'. You're a fucking prat; you know that?" I shook my head and turned around to storm off.

"Both of you, stop it!" Dean Thomas looked sharply at both of us. "Yeah, Blaise and I are together – don't interrupt me, Blaise. We just want to keep this a secret." He attempted to put an arm around Blaise's waist, but he just shoved Thomas away.

"Fuck off, Thomas." Blaise began to sweep away, but Thomas reached behind him, pulling him close. His head nestled into Blaise's shoulder, and my eyes widened in shock. This situation was surreal. There was no way any Slytherin would be mad enough to date a Gryffindor. Then again, I'd done it. Still, Blaise had always been so vehemently against anything that even involved scarlet and gold as a colour scheme.

Angrily, Blaise attempted to break Thomas' grip, but the Gryffindor clasped his hands tightly and refused to let go. With a kiss into his neck, all struggles momentarily stopped. His lips trailed, followed the vein, and then met up with the jaw. Blaise's eyes shut, and his face was serene. I felt like I was witnessing something meant for no one's eyes. It had to be some sort of invasion of privacy. Blushing, I turned my glance away.

Part of me was insanely jealous. I couldn't help it. Both of them were perfectly healthy, and yet they denied it in front of everyone else. A nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me that I would have denied it as well if Pansy had not discovered me, but I attempted to shove it back. Another part was angry at the both of them. Blaise had been – perhaps – the world's biggest prat. If nothing else, he was an incredible hypocrite.

When I dared glance back, away from the ornate Slytherin fireplace I had made it my goal to focus on, both looked serene and completely blissful. It was like a Romantic painting, unfocused and releasing an almost tangible wave of emotions. When Thomas finally pulled back, he huskily whispered into Blaise's ear, "Draco needs our support. Blaise, if we're planning to tell people –"

He got cut off of Blaise violently broke free. "We're not telling anyone. I thought we made that clear in the beginning." He leered at both of us for a moment then stormed upstairs. The anxious Gryffindor released a shaky sigh, and collapsed in the couch behind him.

"He's so stubborn." I tentatively sat down beside him. "He hasn't even said 'I love you' yet." My heart jumped to my throat as I thought of my own denial.

"Sometimes it takes an extreme situation for someone to admit it," I muttered.

"No, don't get me wrong, I'm fine with waiting for him, but I've given him half a year."

"You've been dating for six months?" How in the world had they not gotten caught? No one even suspected anything. It was absurd!

"Well, I wouldn't call it dating at the beginning." A heavy blush settled over his face. What in the world did that mean?

"Excuse me?"

"We weren't in it for the romance at the beginning. It just happened." Gods, I felt thick. Dean Thomas and Blaise had been fucking behind our backs for six months? That was enough to make me vomit. "Of course, he's quite good at –"

"I don't need to hear about his sex life. Let alone one with you." I sneered and gagged a little.

"Oh, lighten up Malfoy," he jokingly leaned over and socked me in the arm. When all I did was glare angrily at him, he sighed. "I'm not sure he'll ever want to come out about it. You should have heard the things he said about you and Harry when you guys began to date. You'd have thought he was spewing this all out to another Slytherin." I could tell he was really making an effort to have a heart-to-heart with me, but I couldn't find the will inside of me to make the slightest attempt to reciprocate the action.

"Oh, really?" Any other person would've taken the hint – I didn't want to talk to him – but he remained oblivious and continued talking.

"I think you guys need support, and I keep on telling Blaise that, but he won't listen. He refuses to tell anyone at all."

"Have you told anyone?"

"No."

"Not even Finnegan? You two seem to be best mates."

"He'd probably get angry at me."

"What about Granger? She probably would support you."

"Not even her." I had to admit, I was shocked. Harry had gone and told Granger and that insufferable Weasley, who hated me, who wanted to make my life miserable, who refused to trust me. I must have given some sort of indication of what I was thinking because Thomas quietly asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure you'd get much support from Weasley if you did come out."

"For Godric's sake, that boy never believes what's right in front of his eyes. I'm fed up with their arguments."

"Their arguments?"

"Hermione and Ron, all they do is bicker about logic and who's right. Ron won't believe that the spell Hermione cast on you could possibly be telling the truth. He's insisting that there's some mistake and Hermione's just being a fool. 'But 'Mione, this is Malfoy we're talking about.'" He shook his head sadly.

"Brilliant. I'm sure most people we on his side, too." Thomas didn't say anything, but I took his sudden silence as a confirmation. The conversation came to an abrupt halt as several of the Slytherin entered the Common Room. Pansy, surrounded by Crabbe, Goyle, Daphne, and Millicent stopped mid-conversation and glared down at us.

"Who said that you could invite filth like that in here?" Pansy barked, her lip pulled back in a vicious sneer.

"I'm sure he doesn't give a damn about that sort of stuff anything," Daphne chimed in. "He's too busy cuddling up next to the Gryffindors."

"Couldn't wait for Potter to come back?" Millicent asked. So that was what they thought he was doing here.

"It has nothing to do with that. We were just talking," Thomas attempted to explain. As if they would listen to anything he said.

"Right, you were 'just talking.' I think Blaise said he was going up to the Common Room. I have no clue how he didn't hear you guys, but you should consider yourself lucky," Pansy added, craning her head around as if she expected him to just pop up from behind a piece of furniture. "Blaise!"

Blaise, now fully-clothed in his Slytherin robes made his way slowly down the stairs from the boy's dormitory. "Yes?" His eyes settled on us and they widened in surprise even I was almost convinced was real. "What's he doing there?"

"I think Draco couldn't wait for Potter, and just had to find another Gryffindor he could mess around with in the meantime." She smirked as Crabbe and Goyle guffawed.

"Most likely. I'm sure Thomas was eager to accept as well. All poofs are the same." Even I thought the comment was harsh. There was no sign in Blaise's eyes that he felt any guilt or pain in saying it. I looked over and it was obvious that Thomas was holding back tears.

"I – I have to go, Malfoy." He ran out, and with one filthy look back at the whole lot of them, I chased after him – rumours be damned.

The corridors were almost empty. Everyone had to have left to go back to their dormitories at this point. Thomas didn't try to run. He just leaned against the wall and buried his face in his hands. "I shouldn't let comments like that get to me. I know he doesn't mean it. He's just trying to seem like he doesn't care."

"It doesn't make it what he said any less harsh." Why had I bothered running after him? I was terrible at comforting anyone. I would much rather tell him just to suck it up and deal with it. But that – of course – wouldn't do. And in any case, he would just burst into tears if I did.

"I'm used to insults, but he's never said anything like that before. He's given me the usual Gryffindor crap, but that's it. I'm probably just being childish."

"You're not." I looked around, anywhere but him. My eyes eventually travelled over to him, though as the silence settled. He looked like he was expecting me to say something in addition to that. "It was a regular reaction." Thomas gave a small chuckle.

"You're not used to consoling people, are you?" I shook my head. "I can tell. No offence, but you're terrible at it." I let out a long breath as any fears of an awkward situation evaporated.

"Good to know. Guess I'll have to practice." My voice was joking, but he must have taken me serious because he tilted his head quizzically. "Gods, Thomas, am I not allowed to make a joke?" It friendly taunt slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I snapped my still-dropped jaw back shut. I couldn't believe I was having a civil conversation with a Gryffindor. Then again, if Granger was my ally, anything was possible.

"I'm just not used to hearing one come out of your mouth unless it's aimed toward the Slytherins. I have to say, I like you much better this way." We began to walk at a leisurely pace. It would be a lie to say I was in a hurry to get back to the Slytherin dormitories. But as we passed by Snape's classroom, a sharp voice I wasn't expecting drifted out.

"What's McGonagall doing down here?" The Gryffindor just shook his head, and I paused to listen to what they were saying.

"Are you sure, Albus?" She sounded shocked. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. "Dead?" My heart froze. Dumbledore would say no, wouldn't he? Dead, Harry couldn't be dead. They said it was a possibility, but not that it would happen so quickly.

"I'm afraid so."

"Are you planning to tell Draco?" Snape's voice hummed.

"Would it be wise?"

"How could we lie to him, Minerva? It would only be worse if he heard it from another student or read it in the newspaper, anyway." Good gods, no!

"Harry," I moaned, and it wasn't until now that I realized that I was curled up on the floor. Thomas offered no words of comfort; he himself stood there, looking like he was going to be sick. "Salazar, this can't be happening." Tears were flowing freely. I hadn't even become conscious of the fact that I was crying until I realized my vision was completely blurred. I had to focus to draw in deep, uneven breaths. Dead. Dead. Dead. The word rang again and again through my head like the melancholy toll of a bell.

A/N: So, I would appreciate if you could leave a review! I've got some more cookies right out o' the oven! They're double-chocolate! Huh, huh... ~nudges~ You know you can't resist it... Oh, f.y.i, I'm currently residing in a house made out of bullet-proof glass, so if you don't like the ending of this chapter, I come prepared. D

Babbles: So, if you could travel anywhere, where would you go? :D