It took nearly a fortnight for the school to finally get used to the idea of Harry and Draco, for they were rarely seen without the other. There were less and less people calling them inappropriate names and pushing them around. Even the Slytherins started growing tired of the couple and instead just went back to completely ignoring Draco, which was completely fine with him.
In fact, Draco was frequently seen eating most of his meals at the Gryffindor table, much to the annoyance of some of the professors. The first couple of times, McGonagall would scold Draco and take points away. But after a week, she gave up. Even she could see the significant difference Harry's presence made on the Slytherin; Draco was a nicer person and even his grades started rising.
So Monday morning dawned bright and early with Harry and Draco eating their breakfast together at the Gryffindor table. Hermione and Ron were on one side of the table across from the couple. Fred and George had just appeared beside the two, discussing Quidditch.
"Katie just put the Quidditch schedule up this morning," Fred said, grabbing a piece of toast.
"We have practice tonight after dinner and again on Wednesday, also after dinner," George said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
"Awesome! I've been looking forward to getting back to Quidditch," Harry said excitedly.
"Ughhhh," Draco groaned into his cereal.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"I completely forgot about Quidditch. I think we have practice at some point this week too. I'm really not looking forward to it," Draco sighed.
"If you don't like it, why don't you just quit?" Fred suggested. George smirked.
"Really, Fred?" Harry said, giving the twins a weary look. "Leave him alone."
"Maybe he's right," Draco said, "I'm really not that good. Compared to you, anyway."
"Well we aren't comparing you and me. You're pretty good whether you think so or not." Harry drained the rest of his cereal, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. "Come on, we'd better get going or we'll be late for Transfiguration." The foursome got up and headed out of the Great Hall towards the Transfiguration classroom.
"Settle down, please. Settle down," Professor McGonagall said, taking out her wand. "Today we will be learning how to change our desks into pigs. This is a very difficult spell and I do not expect any of you to achieve it right away. Now, I would like everyone to divide into pairs around a desk and wait for the incantation."
The room erupted into sounds of shuffling as desks were pushed apart. Hermione and Ron were paired together and Harry and Draco were paired together. Once the incantation was presented to the class, they got to work.
"You really think I'm good at Quidditch?" Draco asked, as Harry pointed his wand at the desk they were sharing. All Harry managed to do was turn the desk pink.
"Yeah, I do. I mean, admittedly, you weren't that good at first, but you've gotten better over the years." Harry said, stepping aside so Draco could have his turn.
"That's good to know because to be honest, I didn't really want to join in the first place. My father just wanted me to be on the same level as you." Draco said, flourishing his wand at the pink desk; the legs changed from metal to actual pig legs, but that was as far it went.
"Good job, Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said as she passed by. The two boys smiled as she passed before returning to their conversation.
"Really?" Harry asked as he stepped to their now weird looking desk. "Do you even like Quidditch?"
"Oh I do! I've just never really been that good of a flier to be honest." Draco said, watching as Harry lifted his wand and pointing it at the desk; the feet of the desk – which still had metal to it – turned into pig feet. "Excellent, Harry!"
Harry smiled and turned to step out of Draco's way when his scar suddenly erupted in excruciating pain. He collapsed onto the floor, only vaguely aware of someone yelling his name. Harry briefly lost his vision before he suddenly found himself in a deserted hallway. He couldn't figure out how he got there, or why he was there in the first place. He turned his head left and right, saw that the hallway was deserted, and continued walking – no, slithering – forward. Harry didn't understand what he was looking for, but suddenly felt elated when he saw Mr. Weasley sitting in front of a strange metal door. Maybe he could help Harry understand what was going on.
But apparently Harry misunderstood his happiness, for as he got closer to Mr. Weasley, he could feel his mouth opening, and he got the urge to sink his – fangs? – into the man. Harry wanted to stop, but found that he couldn't. He lunged, striking every bit of Mr. Weasley he could find, tasting the blood of the man pouring over him.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Harry's eyes flew open to find Draco, Ron, and Hermione standing over him, looking terrified. The rest of the class was starting to file around as well. Harry could feel his body drenched in cold sweat, his stomach churning as he remembered the feeling of blood in his mouth and down his body. Harry could feel the bile rise in his throat, and he quickly turned over and threw up. Draco jumped out of the way in time, looking even more worried.
"Are you ok?" Draco asked, bending down and helping Harry to sit up, for he was shaking badly.
"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Harry stuttered as he tried to regain his breath. He needed to tell her what he saw. He needed to get help to Mr. Weasley right away, before it was too late.
"Potter!" Professor McGonagall was right at the front of the crowd, her hand over heart, looking distressed. "Come on, we need to take you to the hospital wing right now. You are far too ill to continue the class –"
"Professor! It's Ron's dad, Mr. Weasley, he's hurt! Badly! Someone needs to go find and help him!" Harry shouted out just before he retched once more. Draco backed away quickly.
"What are you going on about, mate?" Ron asked, looking thoroughly confused. But Harry ignored him.
"Please Professor! You've got to believe me!" Harry yelled desperately. The rest of the class started whispering amongst themselves at this, but Harry didn't care.
"You're obviously in much distress and ill, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, her hand still over her heart. "How could you possibly have seen anything outside these castle walls when you've been –"
"I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm telling the truth!" Harry interrupted. "Please! Mr. Weasley looked like he was guarding some sort of metal door when something – I don't know what – attacked him! There was blood everywhere; please you have to believe me!" Harry cried desperately.
The whole class was now watching Professor McGonagall with bated breath. She looked at Harry with what seemed to be a confusing expression as her face suddenly turned a stark white. "I believe you, Potter."
Harry nearly cried at these words. He tried to stand up on his own, but found that he was still a bit dizzy. He nearly fell over had Draco not been there to catch him.
"Class is dismissed. Potter, Weasley, you two come with me." Professor McGonagall turned towards the door. Harry looked over at Draco who simply shook his head and Harry understood; he wasn't going to leave him. Harry felt relieved at that – he doubted he would have been able to make it to the door by himself. Hermione followed behind the two; she wasn't going to be left behind either. The class parted to let the little group through and out the door before talk burst out once more.
Harry had no idea where they were going, but was getting even more apprehensive as the minutes passed by. What if Mr. Weasley was bleeding to his death? There did seem to be a lot of blood. And what was he doing in a deserted hallway? Shouldn't he have been raiding someone's home, or filing papers? It took Harry a minute to realize that they were just outside of Dumbledore's headquarters.
"Fizzing Whizzbees." The stone gargoyle sprang to life and the stairs started moving. They stepped onto the moving stairs that brought them to Dumbledore's office door, which Professor McGonagall rapped upon.
"Enter," came the headmaster's cheery voice. The four students and professor entered the office to find the headmaster sitting alone. He looked up, his smile changing to mild curiosity. "I don't think I was ever blessed with so many students at once in my office. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Headmaster, Potter here seems to have had a…well, a dream or vision of some sort concerning the well-being of Mr. Weasley." Professor McGonagall tried to explain. Dumbledore looked down his crooked nose at Harry, his curiosity turning to concern.
"What was it that you saw, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"I saw Mr. Weasley being attacked by something. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it might have been a snake." Harry could recall the slithering feeling of the tiled floor and a pair of fangs sitting uncomfortably in his mouth. "But there was a lot of blood everywhere and I really think we should try and find him before he bleeds to death!"
Dumbledore put his hand up to silence Harry before turning towards one of the portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses. They were all listening intently to the conversation. He addressed one of the portraits closest to him. "If you'll please check on Arthur and let me know of his status –" the portrait gave a curt nod before disappearing out of his portrait. He turned to the look at the group.
"Please Professor, where is my dad? Is he really hurt?" Ron asked, looking at the headmaster anxiously.
"I'm afraid we won't know that just yet. Harry, I'm curious; what was it you were feeling just before you had this, for want of a better word, vision?" Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry once more. Harry was a little taken aback by this question.
"Er, I was feeling normal, I guess. Kind of happy, actually. We were just in Transfiguration class turning our desks into pigs, when my scar felt like it was going to explode and I collapsed. Then I had the vision, woke up, and got sick." Harry explained.
"And your scar, how is it feeling at the moment?"
"Er, still a little prickly, kind of numb." Harry said, raising his hand to his scar instinctively. Just then, the portrait in which the other headmaster had left returned one more, out of breath.
"Headmaster, what the Potter boy says is true! The redheaded man is indeed injured! I've sound the alarm and was lucky enough to get to Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's tending to the man now." The other headmaster collapsed in his chair, mopping his very sweaty brow. Dumbledore inclined his head to him before turning to the rest of the group once more.
"Minerva, if you would please fetch the rest of the Weasley children, I think it's best they go home for the remainder of the week. Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, if you'll just follow –"
"No way!" Draco said indignantly, grabbing Harry's hand and moving closer to him. "I can't leave Harry, he needs me!"
Dumbledore gave the two teens a weary look. Noticing the closeness of the two, he gave a deep sigh. "Very well, you can stay with Harry. And I suppose Ms. Granger will want to stay too?" Dumbledore asked, looking over at Hermione, who was looking at Dumbledore hopefully. He nodded his head. "Very well. If you'll just fetch the rest of the Weasley's, Minerva, that will do." Professor McGonagall gave a brief nod before turning and walking out of the office.
While they waited for Professor McGonagall to return, everyone stood there in silence. Ron and Hermione were shooting glances at Harry every few seconds. Harry, aware of his friends' stares, moved closer to Draco, who was absentmindedly rubbing Harry's lower back with the hand that wasn't holding his own. Harry found this very comforting. Why was it he saw what he did? Why wasn't Dumbledore explaining what it was that he saw?
The office door opened once more and in walked Fred, George, and Ginny with Professor McGonagall to shut the door behind them. The three Weasley's looked very confused and went to stand next to Ron.
"Now that we are all here, I will be sending you to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, where you will await Molly's arrival. You will stay there until the condition of Arthur Weasley has been thoroughly determined. I will notify your professors of your absences." While Dumbledore was explaining all this, he was riffling through his desk, taking out various objects. When he came across what appeared to be a locket of some sort, he returned the rest of the objects to the desk. He tapped the locket a few times with his wand before presenting it to the rest of the group.
"I have enchanted this locket to become a portkey that will take you straight there. I expect Sirius will know by now that you will be coming. You need not worry about your things; some clothes will be sent to you later this evening. If you'll just grab hold…"
The seven students each touched some part of the portkey. Dumbledore let go of the part he was holding and less than a second later, Harry felt the familiar jerk behind the navel, and they were swept out of the office. With the numb pain from the vision already paining Harry's scar, the pressure from traveling this caused Harry even more discomfort. He felt he might either pass out or throw up soon when they finally landed in the sitting room of the manor. Harry just laid there while the others got up, letting the throbbing in his body subside. His stomach, however, was still churning uncomfortably. He opened his eyes to find Draco staring at him with unease.
"You ok, babe?" Draco asked, bending down so that he was eye level with Harry. Harry took a few deep breaths before slowly sitting up.
"I don't feel good," Harry said, just as he gave another retch. He covered his mouth, but nothing came out. He took a few more steady breaths as Draco reached out and gently rubbed his back once more.
"Do you want to lie down for a bit?" Draco suggested, but before Harry had the chance to answer, Lupin and Sirius walked into the sitting room.
"Oh good, you're all here already!" Sirius said, looking around the room so full. "I've just received a letter from your mother and –"
"You've heard from mum?"
"Has she seen dad?"
"How is he?"
Questions were being thrown at Sirius from everyone. He put up his hand, indicating for them to quiet down. "Yes, I've heard from your mother. No, she hasn't seen your father yet, but she is on her way to St. Mungo's at the moment, where he was transferred. She said she will owl as soon as she sees him." Sirius explained. But this didn't seem to satisfy any of the Weasley children. Ron, Ginny, and the twins still looked as though they were ready to head off to the hospital right then. Lupin could sense this and stepped forward.
"Listen, there really isn't much we can do from here. Let's all try and calm down and Sirius and I will make some lunch. Ok?" Lupin suggested, looking around the room. Hermione sat down on the nearest couch while Draco slowly helped Harry to his feet. The rest of the Weasley's, however, glowered at Lupin before taking the empty seats around the room as well. "Good. We'll bring sandwiches and drinks to you." With that said, he turned out of the room. Sirius was about to follow when he noticed the sickly look upon Harry's pale face.
"Harry, you look positively ill. Do you want to go lie down? Everyone's beds are already made up." Sirius said.
"Thanks Sirius, but I think I'd rather wait with everyone else for Mrs. Weasley's owl." Harry said. He sat down on the small couch, grateful to be off the hard floor. "I'll be fine, I promise." For Sirius looked worried. He gave his godfather a small smile, which he returned before turning and following Lupin out of the sitting room.
Draco took the seat next to Harry, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Harry laid his head down on Draco's shoulder, watching and hearing the others talking to one another, not really listening to what was being said. His scar was dull with pain; he nuzzled his forehead deeper into Draco's shoulder to dull the throbbing. He found that he was very warm and comfortable, and whatever scent Draco was wearing made him feel drowsy. Harry didn't think he could fight sleep off any longer as his eyes slowly closed as he lost consciousness once more.
Draco's POV
Draco looked down at Harry as he let out a deep breath. Harry was fast asleep, his face buried in his shoulder. Draco smiled, gently pulling Harry closer to him. He was worried about Harry and really wanted to talk to him about what happened today, but knew that Harry was exhausted from the day's events. He would talk to him about it later. Draco was shaken out of his thoughts at the mention of his name.
"Draco, was Harry acting weird at all today?" Hermione asked, sitting on the couch opposite him, sandwiched between Ginny and Ron.
"Weird in what way?" Draco asked with confusion.
"Did he say anything out of the ordinary or look out of character?"
"Not that I can think of. But you and Ron have been with us all day; we haven't had any alone time, so we all would have noticed, wouldn't we've?" Draco asked.
"I suppose you're right. I'm just worried about him," Hermione sighed, looking at Harry's unconscious form slumped against Draco.
"Yeah, I mean, Harry's scar has hurt like this before, but I don't ever remember it being accompanied by a vision or dream, or whatever it was." Ron said, looking worried.
"So this happens often?" Draco asked curiously.
"Does what happen often?" Hermione asked.
"Harry's scar hurting like this? I mean, does it always act like some sort of warning, or something?" It would certainly make sense given why they were all currently skipping school.
"Well, before it would rarely happen, but it's become more active since you-know-who has been getting stronger." Hermione explained.
"You mean there's a connection between Harry and the Dark Lord?" Draco asked, a little taken aback by this bit of information. He looked down at Harry once more; he looked very peaceful, as though he had no care in the world. He looked back up to find everyone staring at him suspiciously. "What?"
"Only you-know-who's supporters call him that," Fred said through narrowed eyes.
"Well, seeing as my father's one, with him using that phrase consistently, I guess it's kind of force of habit for me," Draco explained, shrugging his shoulders. Ron looked as though he wanted to say something, when Harry soundly gave a violent jerk and sat straight up, a startled look on his face.