The Dream Trilogy Book 2: Tread On My Dreams

by Helen Jay

COMPLETE. Draco is lost. Harry's is the world in trouble now, but it's Draco's past that is catching up to them. Fast.

2. Chapter One: The Adventure

A/N 14-08-14: Thank you to The Modern Prometheus for pointing out my typos, very helpful indeed!

Chapter One -

The Adventure

xxx

I wanna have the same last dream again

The one where I wake up and I'm alive

Just as the four walls close me within

My eyes are opened up with pure sunlight

I'm the first to know

My dearest friends,

Even if your hope has burned with time

Anything that's dead shall be re-grown

And your vicious pain, your warning sign

You will be fine

Hey, oh, here I am

And here we go

Life's waiting to begin

xxx

Angels and Airwaves

xxx

The walls were dank. Moisture trickled along soft emerald moss that glistened in the shadowy torchlight, the air tasted old and bitter. Harry crouched in the small inlet of stone, knowing he had very little time to decide what to do. His mind raced too fast for him to think clearly, his ears rang and he couldn't swallow enough breath to fill his lungs. He clutched the sword in his hands, feeling the weight of the metal reassure him, ground him, hearten him.

The song, sweet and mournful, rang through the air, and Harry clung to it as fiercely as the hilt between his fingers. He was not alone, he had to remember that, he was not alone.

The ground vibrated beneath his feet, and Harry knew he had to move, now. He skirted behind a pillar, shying away from the belly of the chamber, hanging onto the gloomy edges. The beast was cumbersome and hindered by blindness, but Harry could tell it smelt him, hungered for him, and would not be deterred from its pray. If only he had more time.

The ghost of a boy was screaming at his pet, commanding it in a language that slipped through Harry's thoughts like vapour. His eyes watered as they scanned the bright auditorium; he knew where he had to go, but he didn't know if his trembling legs would carry him.

He tried to quash the overwhelming fear with clear thinking, strategy. The ground was solid beneath his feet, the sword was cold still in his grasp. He pictured the amount of steps he was going to take, what the burst of energy would feel like, then ran.

The ghost boy screamed, the beast reared its serpentine head, and Harry found himself skidding to a halt, raising the blade, beating the creature back. He could see her, she was so close. He couldn't let anything happen to her, it was all his fault...

The sword hit true, sliding into the creature's skull with a sickening thud as it roared in fury. Elation washed through Harry, his thoughts already turning to the copper headed girl by the stone statue. But his victory was premature.

The beast's jaw clamped down, and one of its long, deadly fangs shredded into Harry's shoulder. He heard himself scream as the blood gushed out and the poison flowed in. Burning hot light filled his body, and even as he pulled himself free he knew it was over.

The ghost boy laughed, his affection for the snake monster evaporating as soon as Harry's defeat was ensured. The beast slumped to the ground where Harry already lay, feeling helpless as the life slipped away from him. The poison was working quickly, fighting Harry for breath as the sensation faded from his fingers. Tears leaked from his eyes, desperation holding onto consciousness. But he was dying and there was nothing he could do.

He was dying.

He was dying...

xxx

He hit the floor with a considerable amount of pain, taking the vast majority of the bedspread with him. Panting, Harry flung his arm up to the bedside cabinet, grabbed his wand and cried "Lumos!" into the darkness. It was just a nightmare, he told himself as his breathing gradually slowed down, just another nightmare.

He leant against the bed frame, slowing his heart down and combing the shadows to comfort himself he was safe and alone. The realism of the dream was slowly ebbing away, leaving him with only the cold sweat on his skin and thudding pain in his forehead. It's just a dream, he reassured himself again. They're all just dreams.

That's what he told himself at any rate.

He rubbed his forehead to alleviate some of the pressure, then stood and moved over to his window to watch the dawn teetering on the edge of the horizon. The back garden was dark, but Harry could still make out the stone ornaments playing hide and seek in the shrubs.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's sleep, wasn't woken to the sound of his own cries, sheets in a tangle, wand in hand before the real world had fully returned to him. And it wasn't the first time he'd found himself in the chamber with the beast, or running through a forest filled with giant spiders, or lost in a maze with only death waiting for him at the end. Dragons and werewolves and unicorn blood. These were the things that now held him hostage as he slept.

He told himself to begin with it was the stress of the past year manifesting itself in his subconscious. Anyone who'd been through what he'd been through would have suffered repercussions, that it was normal to wake up screaming. After all, Sarah and Parvati did.

But they dreamt of battles in a far off place, of lives lost in the dark. Harry dreamt of a life that wasn't his.

Don't think of that night, he instructed himself firmly, it's not worth it. The whirl of emotions that came with that night made him feel queasy, powerless, incensed, and no good ever came of it. It was like punching a brick wall, or shouting at the sea. The violent frustration held him prisoner almost as much as the dreams did, unable to move on from the moment his life no longer became his own.

Try as he might though, as he stared out into the night, the thoughts came creeping back. The terrible treachery, the violation of it all.

It had been almost a year. He had been at Terry Boot's house, drinking his dad's not-so-secret stash of firewhiskey and arguing over Quidditch until both boys had lost the ability to form a decent sentence. He'd stumbled home, expecting to get in trouble for missing his curfew at the very least, at worse for not being able to walk in a straight line. He'd focused all his energy into acting sober and responsible, and tried to talk coherently whilst his mother fed him lasagne.

Then the darkness had come.

At moments like this, Harry remembered how he had once knocked himself out playing Quidditch, not ducked quickly enough to avoid a Bludger in a friendly against the team down the road. He would see the moment very clearly, how one minute he was flying, then the next he was on the ground with all his team mates huddled round him, calling his name. It was the instant passing of time, not the lump on his head the size of a golf ball, had been the most frightening part of the experience for him. It wasn't like sleeping, it was nothing, nothing at all; he'd never been able to shake the feeling it was like dying.

So one minute Harry had been attacking his pasta, obediently drinking the water his mother kept passing him, and then the next...the next he was falling to the kitchen floor, his mother and Sirius reaching to catch him, calling his name as a hurricane seemed to tear its way over the house, with nothing separating the two events except the terrifying black nothingness. He still wasn't convinced he hadn't died.

Harry leant on the window sill and looked up into the night. Dark streaks of purple and blue were starting to give the sky definition, as did the stars shining around the shadowy clouds as they blew on by. Everything still looked the same, that was what got him. How could the world have just ticked along whilst he had been – where? Nobody had managed to give him a satisfactory explanation of that, not even after all this time.

The first thing he'd noticed as he'd sat up on the cold tiles on the kitchen floor was that he was no longer drunk. His head may have been ringing, he may have felt sick, but he was definitely not inebriated anymore. His arm throbbed, the skin on his forehead stung, his eyes hurt. He was exhausted.

"Harry?" his mother had asked in trepidation, as if unsure as to who he was. Little did Harry realise just how much she didn't know who he was. She had hugged him so tightly he thought she might not let him go. Then he'd been wrangled into the lounge along with his dad and Remus, who had been running to the kitchen when he'd fallen, calling out his name and asking what he'd meant by 'goodbye'? Harry had been firmly seated, and whilst Sirius tried to placate the other two men, his mum had gone upstairs to fetch Sarah.

That was when Harry had realised something was seriously wrong. He'd noticed in the short interval that night-time seemed to have turned itself into mid-morning, but that just suggested something dodgy with Mr Boot's whiskey rather than anything else. It was when Sarah had stepped slowly down the stairs and practically sleep-walked into their midst that Harry had begun to panic. She wouldn't look at anyone, or even raise her head from the floor. She was trembling, her body language screamed fatigue and her hair was a tangled mess of feathers.

It was the feathers that had bothered him the most. They were so alien, so out of place. A soft, downy invasion on the ordinary image of Sarah Potter that had prevailed for thirteen years.

Before anyone could talk, or their mum had even come back into the room, Harry was over to his sister as she sat in their dad's lap, demanding was she okay and what had happened. Remus and his father had frozen as soon as the words had left his mouth, confusion crossing their faces.

Harry sat back down on his bed, then thought better of it and crossed over his room to the chest of drawers, fished out a pair of socks and pulled them on his freezing cold feet. He may not have been the best brother in the world; as appalled as he was now he knew he'd always got a kick out of teasing Sarah to the point of breaking, just because he could. But no one else was allowed to treat her like that, no one else could hurt her and he made damn sure of it. And for her sins she'd never stopped hero-worshipping him, never stopped looking up to her idiot big brother. He felt the shame creep up in him as he perched on the bed again how he could have been such an idiot to her, especially when...

When Sirius had started talking, none of the words made any sense. Harry couldn't find purchase in them. Parallel universes, dimensional hotspots, doppelgangers and fate. They meant nothing to him, they had no real world value. He was being told that there had been anotherHarry Potter, someone from an alternate reality who had a life that wasn't quite like Harry's own. Sirius had told them all how this boy had taken Harry's body over, for almost a day and a half, and then changed his world forever. His and Seamus'.

Harry had flat out refused to believe it to begin with, yelled at them all for being liars, refused to look at the letter his mother kept brandishing at him, demanded to go immediately to Ireland and prove Seamus was okay. But then Sarah had started to cry. Then Sarah had started to scream.

She'd lunged for him like something rabid, shrieking how dare he call her a liar, belittle what she'd been through. Harry, along with everyone else, had been too stunned to deflect the blows. How could he doubt the fierce tears that cascaded down her face, the horrendous story retold in ragged bits and pieces? Seamus' death, Peter's betrayal, You-Know-Who's defeat. It was only because of Sarah at that moment he began to slowly believe it could all possibly be true.

She told him how the other Harry had spoken like a snake, had been able to hurt You-Know-Who just by touching him, had destroyed him with his own killing curse with nothing more than a scar to prove it.

The scar. Harry felt the old anger light in him as marched over to the mirror in his bedroom, the one hanging from his wardrobe, and pulled up his fringe. There it was. A big, ugly bolt of lightning. Whenever he doubted it was real, that his body had walked around without him and saved the world, he made himself look at the scar.

Everyone else certainly did. They stopped him on the street, came and found him at the house, just to gawp at The Boy Who Lived. To them it was the symbol of the new world, the end of tyranny, justice for those who had fallen in the Dark Lord's name. To him all it showed was how his life had been high-jacked, commandeered and destroyed whilst everyone stood around and let it happen. How did no one not realise he wasn't himself? Why did no one stop him, try and save him from himself, for almost thirty six hours?

He looked at the lightning bolt that disfigured his face. His face that was now on t-shirts – he'd seen them, all silhouetted and art-deco. Mugs too, tee-towels, posters. Everyone wanted a piece of the famous Harry Potter. Apparently Rita Skeeter was in talks to pen a book. So Harry was confident it was sure to be accurate and sympathetic to his plight.

No one ever asked about Seamus, it was always He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Always asking questions he couldn't answer. Not caring about what really mattered. Like the fact he'd never been able to say goodbye to one of his oldest and closest friends. People didn't like hearing about that, it put a damper on the whole 'saved the world' yarn.

It took Harry a very long time, far longer than everyone else, to accept that such a thing as an alternate dimension could exist, let alone that a different Harry had crossed over and been on a personal joyride. It was probably Seamus' funeral that had finally sealed it; there was no way to refute the pale and lifeless face that looked up at him from the open coffin, no matter how much he wanted to. Because Harry knew, beyond all uncertainty, that he never would have let that happen. He never would have let Seamus put himself in danger, never let him take the fall for him. Apparently, this other Harry hadn't been so careful.

What was most suffocating though, what was the hardest to swallow, was that outside their close circle of family and friends, nobody knew the truth about the dimensional leap. No one knew it wasn't Harry himself who had defeated You-Know-Who, not even people like Terry. Because Sirius argued fervently that not only would Harry be at great risk from people wanting to interrogate and even experiment on him, who was there to say other people wouldn't try and exploit these weaknesses between universes, mess with the natural order of things for their own personal gain?

So Harry had to suffer in silence. Over the next few days, when people from the Ministry, from the press, started coming round and asking questions, his family decided it best for Harry to tell the truth; that he couldn't remember a thing. They blamed it on post traumatic stress, which some people bought, and some people, like Dolores Umbridge, did not. They tried to swing the interest round to the fact he was the Heir of Gryffindor, another thing Harry had had to come to terms with and the Daily Prophet had a field day over.

Terry ranted about the outrageousness of sending an underage wizard to fight the most evil and powerful wizard of all time, and told him he had every right to forget the whole thing. He said it served them right and damn Wizarding Weekly if they didn't have enough for a double page feature. Harry had learnt to sit and listen to these outbursts, saying just enough so as not to be suspicious, saying not enough to escape the fact he was lying to one of the only friends he had left.

Except for Parvati of course. Harry and Sirius had travelled to Leister to explain everything to her in person. Sirius had more or less appointed himself the expert on the whole parallel universe affair, and Harry had to admit once he started actually believing it was real, he was very grateful to him for doing all the talking. He was able to discuss it much more efficiently than Harry, who just felt sullied and torn apart at any mention of it.

Parvati had had a similar reaction to Harry, but after the initial shock he was immensely relieved to find she felt just as betrayed by this other Harry as he did. She said she felt duped, tricked, that Seamus had given his life over false pretences. Her anger gave Harry gravitas, but it seemed to make everyone else uncomfortable.

No matter her personal views though, she and Sarah had been instrumental in Harry's interviews with the Ministry, helping fill in the blanks, giving them the answers they wanted. Between them they could recount Harry's actions for the entire night, and with nothing they could get from Harry (even after using the Veritaserum truth potion) they had to accept them as accurate.

The Prophet was happy to take whatever the girls or anyone else said and turn it into Harry's words anyway, not willing to lose the beacon of hope that lit up their articles in the wake of the rebellion. They needed a face to define this brave new world, and his was the one on the t-shirts so nobody else's would do.

After Parvati's visit had come a Muggle-born girl called Granger. It seemed this other Harry knew her in his own world and had gone to her for help, so when Sirius and he had knocked on her door she hadn't been surprised at all by their story, only sad that the other Harry had left without saying goodbye. She had helped Harry out by interviewing with the Ministry and corroborating everything Parvati had said, but other than that Harry didn't feel he owed her anything. She was just a living reminder of everything he had lost. And in return, she seemed weary of him as he'd sat in her parents' tooth-medic waiting room, almost disappointed that he'd been returned to his rightful body. It didn't endear her to him. In fact, Harry had insisted she not be invited to Seamus' funeral despite his mother's protests. Parvati had agreed, and together they had convinced the Finnigans to leave her name off the list. Hers and a certain no good Slytherin.

Which led them to the last visit; Harry could barely believe his ears when Sirius had told him. Malfoy Manor. Harry had kicked up a real fuss, refusing to set foot in such a place, but Remus had stood up for Malfoy – or Draco as they liked to call him – saying he was a changed man. And his mother and Sirius said they'd promised the other Harry they'd look after him. As far as Harry was concerned he didn't owe either 'Draco' or the Harry thief a single thing.

At this he grabbed one of the many trainers littering his bedroom floor and hurtled it at the wall by the door, tearing his Weird Sisters poster. They were used to it by now, but the band members still looked peeved as usual. Because Harry threw a lot of things at that wall now. Because as of a few months ago, Draco Malfoy had been living on the other side of it.

Apparently he was getting too lonely all by himself in his own massive house, so Harry's mother had insisted they make a magical extension and create another bedroom to take him in. Harry had been convinced everyone had taken a leave of their senses and would return to normal soon enough, but here he was, still throwing trainers.

As a result he'd spent as little time as possible at home since the move, escaping to Parvati's or Terry's whenever he could. And Parvati generally accompanied him when he did have to come back here, so he'd not had to spend much face time with Malfoy at all.

He laid back on his bed, feeling shattered, as he thought of Parvati. He wasn't really sure what their relationship was anymore. He certainly barely spent any time without her, and united by their grief for Seamus and their anger at anyone connected to the dimensional leap or that night in Germany they had grown closer than they ever had before, in more ways than one. If there was one thing he was sure of nowadays, it was that he felt more able to take on the world when Parvati was by his side.

His eyelids drooped despite his best efforts as the grey dawn slowly crept over the trees and into the garden. He didn't want to sleep, but he knew his body needed to.

To Harry's mind, it had been one thing after another since last November, the body swapping had just been the start of it. After he'd learned the truth he'd had to accept it, after he'd accepted it he had to hide it. And then the dreams had come. Slowly at first, sporadically. Dreams of duels and monsters and loneliness.

But then they came again and again, relentlessly, every time he closed his eyes. They weren't like normal dreams that vanished as soon as consciousness reclaimed him, they became seared into his memory. Because, he eventually worked out, that's what they were. Memories.

His memories.

Over time it had became clear that not only had this interloper invaded Harry's life and wrecked it almost beyond recognition, he had left echoes behind him to resonate through Harry whilst he slept, to torture him.

He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone, not even Sirius. His pride told him that this other Harry could try all he liked, but he wasn't going to let him affect his life any further than he already had. An easy moral to have in the day, harder when he was once again sat wide awake in his bed in the middle of the night staring at shadows and trying not to think of the mess his life had become.

Not all the dreams were nightmares, some were ordinary memories of everyday things – birthdays, Christmases, playing Quidditch and going to school. Even though Harry still felt tainted by these imposed recollections, they faded with far more ease once the lights were on and sleep was far away. All except one; and out of them all, this was actually the dream that Harry feared the most.

He would find himself, small and alone, sitting in darkness before a large mirror in a cold stone room. The mirror called to him like a siren on a rock, enticing him in. He would see his family standing in the reflection, and in the dream it would feel like his whole family but Sarah had never been there, not once. They would wave to him, and his mother would cry as he reached for them, a deep and torturous longing encompassing him until he would tear himself into waking again. What kind of a world were his family only accessible through a trick of light?

He hoped he never found out.

Against his better judgement, Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax. He knew he only had an hour or two before he would have to get up, and he was going to need as much sleep as he could get for the day ahead.

And who knew? Maybe he wouldn't dream.

xxx

Sarah Potter froze mid-step on the stairway that led down from her bedroom. Her eyes bore into the wall separating her from Harry's room, her wand poised in her hand. She'd heard a noise, a thud, that travelled even through the wood and plaster of the house. She made no sound as she breathed shallowly, ignoring the light-headed feeling that it gave her.

It was just a noise, she told herself. This was her own house, there was nothing dangerous here and she was safe. Logically she knew it was true, but it still took a few minutes to really convince herself Harry was just throwing things at Draco's room again, and carry on down the landing.

She'd pulled a pair of stripy socks up to her knees, but her pyjamas were only a pair of shorts and a faded Holyhead Harpies t-shirt; the days may have been hot of late, but the nights were starting to make up for it in their coldness, and she shivered as she padded into the kitchen.

She never slept when she was supposed to anymore, and never for very long. It was not unusual to find herself wide awake in the small hours of the morning, rummaging through cupboards to satisfy her grumbling stomach that complained of missed meals and insufficient amounts of vegetables.

Sarah found herself staring at a jar of Honeyduke's finest chocolate covered jelly-babies, undecided as to whether or not she really wanted any. She ran her tongue stud over the back of her teeth, making a clacking noise that vibrated along her jaw. Greta said that her new eating and sleeping habits were unremarkable considering what she'd been through last year. She also said that expressing herself creatively was healthy no matter how alarming it might be at times. Hence the tongue stud.

Sarah smiled. Her mum had taken her to get all her new piercings, just how she always took her to see Greta, which is probably why she understood a lot more. Her dad was less approving, but her mum always shrugged it off saying she could take them out whenever she wanted. They'd both drawn the line however at a tattoo that said 'I survived Death Eater Mountain', and in retrospect Sarah begrudgingly agreed. Though she wouldn't admit it out loud.

Sarah knew Greta was expensive, and that several people were chipping in to cover the cost of her hourly rates, but she knew deep down it was worth it. The past few months had been awful, plain and simple. Even finding the words to talk about the night of the kidnap had seemed like an insurmountable first hurdle, but when Kingsley Shacklebolt had recommended Greta to go to, the words had eventually come. They were accompanied by weeks of destroying her room, screaming at anyone who approached her (including several members of the press and Ministry) and the inability to stomach any food whatsoever, but after a while the fury had died. Sarah learned that she could ransack her room all she liked, but when she was the one who had to put it back together the carnage became less cathartic. She realised that eating was actually one of the only things that comforted her when confusion and doubt made the world spin, and by talking to people like the Ministry she was in fact helping Harry out.

Harry. Sirius had warned her as kindly as he could not to divulge too much to Greta about his being from another dimension, but it didn't matter anyway. When Sarah talked about how she felt her brother had been a different person in Germany, and couldn't possibly understand because he hadn't really been there, Greta took it purely in psychological terms. She would nod earnestly and ask Sarah how that made her feel.

That was her favourite question, and to begin with it had driven Sarah mad. There was never much to throw in Greta's sparse office, but Sarah had managed to tip over her chair a few times before admitting that it never really made her feel better in the end. So she would sit, and she would talk about whatever was in her head. It wasn't always Germany, or Harry, or how she had seen Seamus Finnigan die. She saw the world in a completely different light and it angered her. Her old cares and woes seemed trivial to the point of embarrassment now, and when she would explain her troubled relationships to Greta, her fears about the world and her place in it, she would always find the path to make her feel better, more in control.

Sighing, Sarah finally caved in to the jelly-babies, yanking the lid off the jar. She was aware of the way her appearance had changed since last November, but her and Greta had come to the conclusion it was her way of shedding the little girl who had found herself at the mercy of the Death Eaters. Her long black hair was all choppy now and she liked to streak it with different colours, normally purple or blue. Her ears now held several studs, there was a bar in her belly button and a small crystal on one side of her nose. Most of her clothes had gone to the charity shop in the village, and she and her best friend Natalie McDonald had spent long days poking around vintage shops for bargains to refuel her wardrobe with. Sarah liked the idea of giving the clothes she bought a second chance at life, even if it often meant being ripped apart and cobbled back together again.

Sarah was aware her bad habits with food had meant she'd put on quite a bit of weight. Natalie told her sincerely that she'd been too damn skinny in the first place, so she wasn't to worry about it for a second, but it had taken some getting used to. She leant on the big wooden table and bit the head off a jelly-baby, which turned out to be yellow, her least favourite. She spat it into the bin then tried again, finding a much more pleasant pink one to dismember.

Her weight was certainly not the only thing she'd had to get used to. The world was shifting dramatically everyday to the point she barely recognised it. With You-Know-Who's regime dismantled the world had to find its feet again quickly and fill the vacuum of power he had left behind. Gradually people began to accept they no longer had to live in constant fear, and curfews were lifted and Floo pathways opened up. But it was within her own family Sarah had noticed the biggest shift. She saw the way her father and mother acted. Her mum had been closer to the other Harry, and she and Sirius had known who he was before he'd returned home. Her dad had known nothing, and she could see the way he sided with her brother on the matter. There was a coldness growing between her parents that scared Sarah more than her time in Germany ever had.

And Harry – well Harry was a stranger to her now. Greta said his distancing was part of his guilt at feeling responsible for what had happened to her, but she knew how angry he was at the other Harry, how bitter and twisted he saw it all and that was why he pulled back from everyone. He blamed them all for what had happened to Seamus, for what had happened to him and his body whilst the other Harry had been here.

But that other Harry had faced death for Sarah, had crossed a continent and offered his own life for hers. She could not share her true brother's rage, and neither could their mum, and so he removed himself from them as much as he could.

He didn't blame Parvati though, Sarah thought, biting into another jelly-baby and licking the chocolate from her fingers. He was always with Parvati bloody Patil. Sarah decided to put the lid back on the jar before she gave herself tummy ache, and poured herself some pumpkin juice to wash the sugar from her teeth. She had never been very fond of Parvati, but now she couldn't stand the silly girl. Her hysterics fuelled Harry's irrationality, and she always stank of cigarette smoke. Sarah had asked her mum a while ago if she was now Harry's girlfriend. She had scoffed something rude into her cup of tea and told her 'I certainly hope not.'

A noise had Sarah's wand in her hand and the juice spilled on the table before her poor brain even had a chance to catch up. Her heart thumped as she tried to place it, remembering all the self defence moves Sirius had taught her. Now she was really listening, and not chewing or scuffing the wooden seats about, she could hear it again and again, almost rhythmically. It was an extremely faint tapping sound, like whatever was connecting was covered in cloth and muffled almost to the point of silence. Feeling the anger flare in her, Sarah stood and began edging her way towards it. The logical part of her brain knew the chances of there being intruders in the house was minimal. The part of her brain that was ordering adrenalin to fly around her system argued it had happened before and this time she would poke their eyes out if they dared mess with her.

Sucking up her courage, she spun around the corner into the family room where she felt the noise was coming from. What she saw, however, brought her up short. For there, sat at the dusty grand piano, was Draco Malfoy. He had his back to her as his fingers moved deftly across the keys, creating that soft thudding noise Sarah had heard. He must have put a silencer charm on the melody, but she could still hear the hammers hitting the strings repeatedly.

He wore a grey t-shirt and navy tracksuit bottoms, and his blond hair had at least been tousled on if not actually slept on. Bare feet worked the peddles, and Sarah could see the tension in the muscles between his shoulders and his neck. Curious, she stepped forward, breaking through the bubble of the silencer charm. The music washed over her, chilling and beautiful.

"The Moonlight Sonata," she breathed, gazing down at the keys. The second she spoke Draco's fingers lifted from the instrument and hung there.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he said. He only half turned his head towards her, but enough that she caught the smile playing on his lips.

"Shouldn't you?" she shot back, throwing herself onto the stool, forcing him to budge up. He laughed a little, holding onto the stool as he leant back and regarded her. Sarah stuck her wand back in the elasticised waist of her shorts, then laid her own fingers onto the white and black keys. "I didn't know you played?" she said. She'd not touched the piano since Wormtail had snatched her and handed her over to the Death Eaters. She could still see the sheet music fluttering to the floor as she realised the man she'd always thought of as an uncle had a wand pointed at her head.

Sarah hadn't known what to think when her mother had told her Draco was going to be moving in with them. Her dad talked stiffly about how it was really their duty to look after him since his own mother was dead and father in prison. He said they owed him Sarah's life, but he didn't exactly seem thrilled. Her mum had Remus and Sirius on her side though, and the move had taken place in less than a week.

Harry had naturally raised all manner of Hell, and disappeared to Parvati's for so long Sarah lost count of the days. He'd said Draco was a traitor and a liar, but in Harry's absence Sarah had found herself drawn to Draco Malfoy, the tall quiet boy with white hair like a halo. She'd seen the way he'd tried to help Seamus as he'd died, how he and his friend Blaise had stood in front of her when they thought danger was approaching.

She'd won him over as soon as she'd asked what his little pet ball of sunshine was called. 'Oi you,' had been his answer, and Sarah had liked the way he'd raised his eyebrow. She admonished him, and re-christened the poor thing 'Sunny' immediately, which earned her another eyebrow and even a laugh. She'd then introduced them both to Barney the tortoise, and from that moment she had never seen anything treacherous about him at all. In fact he'd acted far more like a brother than Harry had since his arrival, something Greta said her brother was probably also resentful about.

That and Sarah much preferred Blaise to Parvati. Blaise had showed her how to put thick black eyeliner on, and taught her her favourite potions spells. Parvati made fun of Blaise's scar on her cheek too, but only when Harry wasn't around so she must have known how hurtful her words were. Sarah had told her Blaise was more beautiful than she would ever be, even with the scar, and that was when Parvati had stopped talking to her.

"That's all I can play," Draco admitted, running his fingers along an F and G sharp. "My mother taught me." Sarah had always been a fan of Beethoven, especially his haunting sonata, but had never advanced enough to play it herself.

"That's okay," she told him, taking her hands away from the keys and looking at him. "It suits you," she said with a smile. "It can be your party piece."

Draco grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "I dread to think what kind of party anyone would want to hear that at," he said, and it was Sarah's turn to laugh.

They both spent a few moments staring at their laps, the anxiety rising between them. "Are you scared?" Sarah eventually asked. Draco pulled at his fingers.

"Terrified," he admitted.

Sarah blew out a breath of air. "I can't believe it's tomorrow," she bemoaned. Greta had warned her that when things were out of her control she was bound to become worried or angry. Right now she just felt like being sick.

"I guess it had to happen someday," said Draco solemnly. Then he forced a smile that almost reached his eyes. "I'm sure you'll be fine though," he said, giving quick tug to the hair Sarah still managed to hang in a ponytail. She yelped and swatted him away, nervous laughter releasing some of her pent up tension.

"You'll be fine too," she told him genuinely. "I mean, you've done it before."

Draco couldn't quite mask his face as it fell. "Yeah," he sighed, staring out the window as his ball of sunshine bounced about happily. "That's what scares me the most."

xxx

The Muggle train screamed as it tore through Kings Cross station, making Draco shudder as he stared apprehensively at the barrier between platforms nine and ten only a few feet in front of him.

"Go on, son," said Sirius reassuringly, and gave him a small nudge in the back. Draco took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then pushed his trolley towards platform Nine and Three-Quarters, squashing the wave of nausea that was rolling up from somewhere around his stomach region.

Feeling he was on the other side, he peeked between his eyelids to witness the madness unfurling beside the brilliant scarlet form of the Hogwarts Express. "Oh," said a clipped and unfortunately familiar voice by his side. "It's you."

Draco had the forethought to pull the wonky trolley with his trunk on away from the barrier before regarding Parvati Patil on the other side. "Hello Parvati," he sighed as he leant over and unclasped the box where he'd temporarily had to convince Sunny to stow. He'd been shining between the cracks in the wood before, but now he was quite dull when he burst back into the open air. Parvati raised an eyebrow as he zoomed about, drinking in the natural light that streamed through the high glass ceiling that turned King's Cross station into a veritable greenhouse.

"Still got that stupid spell going I see," she smirked, taking a drag from the cigarette in her right hand, the left wrapped defensively around her waist. She tapped her foot by her stack of ugly pink suitcases as Sunny came floating back down, a great deal fatter than he'd just been.

"Still smoking those cheep fags I see," said Draco coldly as Sarah and Lily Potter came flying through the wall between them.

Sarah spun around and gawped at the barrier. "That was awesome!" she cried and turned to her mother. "Can we do it again!"

"Of course," said Lily, bending over and looking fairly green. "At Christmas."

"Good morning Mrs P," simpered Parvati, not even having the grace to put out her cigarette. "How are you?"

"Fine Parvati, thank you," said Lily stiffly as she ushered Sarah out of the way as Remus and Sirius jumped through the wall, landing where the girls had just been standing. Sirius was still such a child at times, thought Draco with a grin as he punched Remus' arm, pointed excitedly at the big red engine, and loped off for a closer inspection. Remus shook his head and followed, smiling. Parvati didn't even notice as Sunny bopped down and absorbed the fiery tip of her cigarette, extinguishing it tidily.

Harry and James were the last of the group through. Parvati practically squealed and flung her arms around the younger Potter, who reciprocated enthusiastically enough but it didn't escape Draco's notice how quickly he broke off the embrace. Parvati was totally unaware though as she grabbed his hand, flicked her dead butt away and seized her case. She marched the two of them off, chatting happily as they disappeared into the throng.

Draco heard Lily sigh and sneak a glance at James, but he was staring at the Hogwarts Express and didn't see. "Is it like you remember?" Sarah asked, attempting to pick up the atmosphere between the four of them.

"It's smaller," said Draco and James at the same time. James actually smiled at Draco, then slipped his hands in his jeans and sloped off to find his friends.

"He's thinking about Peter," said Lily to no one in particular. Draco saw Sarah stiffen ever so slightly, but she shook it off and grabbed her trolley.

"Come on," she said brightly. "I promised Natalie we'd get good seats, and they all be gone at this rate."

Draco had not known much about Sarah Potter before he'd moved to Godric's Hollow; she'd not been old enough to go to school when Draco had attended, and on that fateful night back in November he'd just sat by her in The Dark Lord's auditorium after Seamus had died, waiting to Floo back to England.

It had not been easy for Draco in many ways after they had returned. He'd travelled back to Malfoy Manor, hoping he would find some sort of closure there. Instead he had found echoey corridors and unpleasant memories. The first few days had passed in a blur of nothingness, all he could really remember was his first, long, extremely hot shower. Then Sirius had contacted him saying he and Harry were coming to visit, and he was filled with hope and purpose again. The consideration, and eventual respect, Harry had shown him on their quest had moved him like no other person had since his mother. Harry's determination and wilfulness to see the good in him had made him feel worthy, part of something important and bigger than his own woes and grief.

As soon as Potter had stepped through the fireplace, he'd known it was all over. This was not the real Harry, but at the same time it was the Harry he had always known. Sirius had been put out by how quickly Draco had accepted his stories about dimensional leaps and alternate realities, but Draco needed very little persuasion to see that this was not the Harry that he had travelled with.

Harry's departure cut deep, almost like betrayal. In his heart he knew it wasn't true, that Harry had just gone home to his own world as very well he should, Draco didn't resent him that. He resented the poor excuse for a shadow that he had left in his wake. This Harry, the Harry of his world, would not listen to reason, would not budge on his anger at Draco for the crimes he had committed as a child, or mistrust of the family he was born into. He blamed Draco as much as the doppelganger Harry for Seamus' death, for stealing his life making him famous for something he didn't do.

When Lily had persuaded him to move in with her family a few months ago, Draco was sure Sarah would feel the same way as her brother. But the trembling girl from the forest was long gone. In her place stood a young woman with very firm idea of her own identity, and an even clearer understanding of how misguided her brother had become. She had come to Draco of her own accord, and Draco had been very glad of it. It was in her he saw the ghost of the true Harry, the brother she should have had, and he very much liked having her around.

They heaved all the heavy trunks onto the train as the Marauders returned with a slightly disgruntled looking Harry, Parvati still clinging to his hand. "I thought you'd like to say goodbye to your firstborn," James said jokingly to Lily, ruffling his son's hair. Sirius had obviously said something to cheer him up, which Draco was grateful for. He saw the way the Potters were now; not that he'd known them before, but he could see the wedge the events of last November had driven between them. He feared he was only adding to it by moving into their home, but Sirius always insisted his best friend just needed a good kick up the arse and things would go back to normal.

Harry reluctantly smiled and hugged his mum goodbye. Draco caught the tears in her eyes, despite the brave front she was trying to put on. "You take care of yourself," she said thickly. Harry promised he would be fine. When she released him Parvati dove in for a hug too, but Lily quickly grabbed her by the shoulders, gave her an awkward pat, and told her to take care too.

The two of them disappeared as soon as Harry had hugged the men. "See you in a bit," he called over his shoulder to Sarah just before they got lost in the crowd of students and anxious parents. Slightly miffed, Sarah was the next to get her goodbyes from everyone, and they were a good deal more lengthy and heartfelt than her brother's. Draco stood awkwardly, glad for her that she had such a caring family, but desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat as he inadvertently thought of his own mother. He hoped she would have given him the same kind of send off, shown the same degree of affection, but time was starting to play tricks with his memory, and he couldn't say for sure how his mother would have reacted to anything anymore.

It was at that moment Lily Potter swung round and caught him in a tight embrace. He was so surprised it took him a few moments to respond. He let his arms wrap around her as well, and realised it had been a very long time indeed since he had been held by anybody. She let him go and took him by the shoulders, studying him with wet eyes. "People will be mean to you, Draco," she said. He swallowed.

"Um, okay," he said uncertainly.

"You are not to listen to them," she carried on. "Not one word. We've all made mistakes in life, but not everyone has the strength to learn from them, to repent like you have. So you are never to forget who you truly are, do you understand?"

Draco was slightly overwhelmed by the ferocity of her words. She let go of him, and put her arm around Sarah, waiting for his answer.

"I won't," he said, trying to take some of that ferocity for himself but not doing a very good job. "I won't let you down."

"Sod us," said Sirius, brashly as he too pulled him into a hug. "Don't let yourself down. You brought down an empire. You're Han Solo." Draco didn't understand the reference but it sounded sincere. Remus hugged him too, and even James gave him a strong hand shake.

"Good luck," he said. Then after a thought; "Do me a favour would you? Keep an eye on this one here, make sure she's not too much trouble for those poor teachers."

"I'm never trouble!" protested Sarah as the others laughed.

"Are you kidding?" said James in mock outrage. "You're my daughter, I would expect nothing less than outright mayhem."

Draco was extremely touched James had charged him with Sarah's well being – even if it was a joke, he hadn't asked Harry to do it.

The whistle was blowing and Draco tried to help Sarah onto the train, but she just hoped on in front of him and poked that tongue stud out at him with a wink. The doors closed and they leant out to wave to the Potters, Sirius and Remus. Lily had tears streaming down her face now, but she was laughing and smiling as James reached around her back and rubbed her arm. "We'll write everyday!" called Sarah, who Draco could see was also crying despite her best efforts.

"No you won't," sobbed Lily cheerfully. The train jerked into motion, and they began picking up momentum down the platform, rushing past other students' tearful families until the Potters and Marauders were nothing but a smudge in the distance.

"Wow," said Draco, letting a smile creep onto his face as he turned to Sarah in the carriage entrance, pulling the window in the door up. "You look a right mess."

"Bugger off," said Sarah, smacking his arm.

"Making girls cry again, Draco?"

He recognised the voice instantly, but Sarah was quicker to react. "Blaise!" she cried, launching herself at the tall mixed-race girl standing in the doorway leading to the train's corridor. Blaise Zabini let herself be hugged, patting the youngest Potter good humouredly on the head. "I like what you've done with your make-up," said Blaise when Sarah finally pulled away, happily sniffing back old tears. She laughed and rubbed at the black mascara dripping from her eyelashes.

Blaise fixed Sarah's face with a flick of her wand. As proficient as she was with make-up, she had not even attempted to cover the scar that still slashed across her cheek, the one she had received during the battle in Germany.

The Malfoys had always been a proud, superficial family, and Draco had predictably grown up with the slightly distasteful habit of holding appearance and looks in very high regard. But it was for this reason Blaise had been allowed to spend so much time with him when they were growing up; her beauty even as a child was remarkable and Draco wouldn't have been surprised if Lucius had been planning to marry them off one day.

Blaise was Draco's sister though as far as he was concerned, and had never felt drawn to her romantically. That didn't mean he wasn't pained to see her lovely face torn apart by that enchanted blade the way it had. He'd found it hard to look beyond it to begin with, and once apologised for the disfigurement that she now wore every day. She'd offered to give him one of his own if he ever insulted her like that again. She wore that scar like a badge of honour, and Draco pitied anyone that challenged her on it. He knew what she could do with a sword.

"I'd better go find Natalie," said Sarah, inspecting her new make-up in a hand mirror she'd pulled from one of her many layers of clothing. "She doesn't know anyone else."

"Neither does Armand," said Blaise, referring to her younger brother who would be starting in the first year. "I should probably get back to him soon. I left him guarding our compartment – he doesn't know how to use a wand yet, so he just tends to stab people with it." As usual Draco didn't know if she was kidding or not. Blaise turned her dark brown eyes to Sarah. "How about you and your friend join us. Then we won't know anyone together."

Sarah looked very pleased with the invitation. They began walking down the corridor to their left, but when Draco followed Blaise held her hand up to his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Er...with you?" he said, perplexed.

"No you're not," said Blaise, a hint of playfulness in her voice that Draco recognised all too well.

"Can I ask why?"

Blaise pretended to sigh as Sarah watched with wide eyes. "Such a drama queen."

"Princess Rah," he retorted automatically.

Blaise pointed along the opposite corridor. "She's down that way."

xxx

It didn't take long for Draco to remember why he had been dreading coming back to school, and he was suddenly wishing he'd not left Blaise and Sarah heading in the other direction.

The younger students generally took no notice of him as he began peering into the compartments along the train carriage. There were plenty of Muggle-Borns too who had no idea who he was. But the Pure-Bloods from the fifth year or above, almost all of them remembered his face from before. And they were not happy to see him.

Some stared open mouthed, others shouted out. Some just looked plain scared which Draco felt was probably the worst. It wasn't until he entered the third carriage along though that he really got into trouble. He realised instantly this particular compartment was full to busting with people he recognised as Gryffindors as well as the odd Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and turned to move on right away. But a boy with dreadlocks spotted him through the glass – Lee or Luke Draco half registered as being his name as he called out to his companions.

"That's Draco Malfoy?"

The door was thrown open and before Draco could even get his hands up in protest he was seized by a girl and two more boys, hauled into the compartment and pressed up against the outer window.

"What are you doing here?" demanded the girl; her name was Angelina and Draco was sure she had played Quidditch for Gryffindor.

Draco tried to keep his cool, but there were seven or eight wands now pointed at his face and several hands grabbing at his clothes. The glass was cold on his back and he could hear the wind whistling through the pane as the train sped along. "Going to school," he said evenly. He wanted to say something clever like 'synchronised swimming' or 'looking for trolls', but luckily sense got the better of him. Angelina looked upset, as did a few of the others, but the remainder just looked mad.

"But...why would they let you back?" she asked.

"Why aren't you in Azkaban?" demanded a Chinese boy.

"With your dad!" added another.

Anthony Goldstein, a Ravenclaw Draco definitely remembered from Charms lessons, stepped up and thrust his wand underneath Draco's chin. "You let them in," he growled, blue eyes not blinking as he stared Draco down.

"What do you think you're doing?" rang out a voice. Several people jumped aside, and there she was.

Hermione Granger.

Draco thought he might possibly die of embarrassment right there and then.

The last time he had seen her, she had been bloody, sleep deprived and carrying half of the Black Forest in her tangled hair. That's how he'd spent all these months remembering her. The girl that held her brand new wand out in front of her was almost unrecognisable. Her hair was sleek, shining and cut into layers that hung poker straight around her face. Her clothes were pristine and well fitted, her nails clean and polished, and her make-up expertly applied.

She looked furious.

"I said," she repeated loudly, "what the Hell do you think you're doing!" She stepped forward, wand directed at those clustered around him. "Let him go this instant!"

"Oh no, it's okay!" cried Angelina hastily. "That's Draco Malfoy."

Everyone started talking at once.

"He let You-Know-Who in the school."

"People died because of him!"

"You're Muggle-Born, I guess you wouldn't know, don't worry."

"He's a traitor!"

"He shouldn't be allowed back."

"I was thinking we could hang him out the window for a bit," finished Anthony. His friend, Michael something-or-other, sniggered in agreement.

"Or we could just chuck him out and let him walk." He poked his wand frighteningly close to Draco's eye. "How would you like that, Malfoy?"

But Draco's eyes had never left Hermione's face. The shame was burning through him, his face must have been as hot and as red as an ember; why did she have to see him like this, why did she come in now?

"His name," she said in a voice that was dangerously low. "Is Draco. And he helped bring down Lord Voldemort." All the students in the compartment went very still then, the only sound was the rocking of the train and the faint whistling of the wind.

"You said his name?" said a small Hufflepuff girl.

"What do you mean?" asked Angelina, cutting across the other girl. "Harry Potter defeated...You-Know-Who," she said pointedly.

"Because Draco risked his life to bring him there," replied Hermione, fixing the Chaser with her wand. "Now let him go."

"You shouldn't believe everything you read in the Prophet," chuckled Lee with the dreadlocks pleasantly. "You'll learn that soon enough."

"Draco's name was never mentioned by the Prophet or any other publication," snapped Hermione, retraining her wand on him. "The Ministry didn't want anyone still loyal to Voldemort taking revenge."

"Stop saying the name!" cried the little Hufflepuff girl.

Lee raised an eyebrow. "How would you know," he asked. "You're Muggle-Born aren't you, you don't have our papers. You don't even know who you're standing up for."

"Don't I?" she said, her lip curling. "I'm giving you one last chance to let him go."

"Or you'll do what?" cried Michael. "You're just a Muggle-"

Her Expelliarmus spell hit him before the words were even half done. He whacked into the side of the compartment, the wind knocked out of him completely. Half the wands in the room were instantly swung in Hermione's direction, the others remained uncertainly on Draco.

"Yeah," he said, unable to help the grin spreading on his face. "You might want to be nice to her."

"What the Hell's your problem!" accused Anthony, his wand still in Draco's throat as Michael struggled to his feet.

"You," Hermione challenged. "That boy saved my life and helped bring down the Death Eaters. And you're trying to shove him out of a moving train."

"He betrayed the school!" said Angelina indignantly.

"Because his father coerced him and his mother was held hostage," Hermione told them hotly. "And then they murdered his mother anyway."

The smile vanished from Draco's face as what felt like a glacier tore through his insides. Some of the students lowered their wands and gawped at him. He looked back, uncertain what to say or do. He'd barely told anybody about his mother, and he wasn't sure how he felt about people who had just been threatening him knowing.

"How were we supposed to know that?" grumbled Michael, folding his arms defensively.

"Well now you do," said Hermione, her wand still held high. "And I think it's about time you gave us some peace." They looked back at her until she rolled her eyes. "That means you should leave."

"This is our compartment!" said Anthony indignantly.

"That was before you tried to assault my friend," she replied. "Move." The students looked at her as if she was mad, but when she failed to back down they began to slink off, gathering up their bags and lunches awkwardly. "There are plenty of other booths, I promise," she told them curtly, following the last ones out with her wand as they slammed the door behind them.

There was a beat. Then her wand clattered to the floor, she fell into the seat and began to shake. "Oh God," she breathed. "Oh God oh God oh God."

Draco was still pressed up against the window pane, but after a few moments decided to slowly peal himself off. "Hey," he whispered, moving over to her and taking her hands between his. "Hey, hey it's alright."

"What the Hell did I do? I just got so mad," she said, still staring into the middle distance. "I've only been here five minutes, they'll all hate me."

Draco cupped her face with his hand and finally got her to look at him. "Well I think you're brilliant."

"Will I get expelled?" she said miserably, searching his face. Her eyes were a dark, rich brown, like melted chocolate. Draco hadn't remembered that from before.

"No," he laughed gently. "Thanks for saving me." He rose from his knees and sat himself beside her. "I mean, I was just about to kung fu the Hell out of them all, but I thought it would be gentlemanly to let you have a go first."

He managed to raise a little laugh out of her, and she turned to him with a smile. "It's really good to see you," she said, sweeping a tendril of straight hair behind her ear. Draco took in her new look with eyes un-distracted by threatening wands. He couldn't say exactly why but it made him slightly uncomfortable, it was too polished, she looked like a doll. But she could tell he was staring at her, so he quickly told her she looked lovely.

"Oh thanks," she breathed out in relief. "Lavender took me out shopping and wouldn't stop until we ran out of money. She said we had to make an effort for the first day."

Draco knew Lavender Brown was the girl Hermione had befriended over the summer, at the catch-up program the school had provided for Muggle-Borns to help their integration into Hogwarts with the Pure- and Half-Bloods. Hermione had been top of the class by all accounts.

"I can't wait for you to meet her," Hermione said happily. "I can't believe we're really here at last."

"It's been a long while coming," agreed Draco, though he felt he was talking about a number of things. The school reopening, his new life. Her. His tongue caught in his throat, and for a few awful minutes he couldn't think of anything to say. Hermione seemed to be suffering the same, and just stared into her lap at her purple nails.

It had taken a great amount of courage for Draco to write that first letter to her after Christmas, and even then it had taken a week of redrafting before he finally let the owl fly off with it. Instantly he'd regretted it, and tried to call the bird back. He'd spent the next few days in a humiliated state. He'd been driven to talk to the Muggle-Born girl by his grief over losing Harry, and thought she might be the only other person who truly understood, but who was he to her? He'd attacked her the first time they'd met.

She had just been a name on a page, a face in an unmoving photograph, someone to prepare strategies against in case she joined sides with the enemy. But in Germany she had defended him, with no rational reason as far as Draco could see. It had been her the real Harry had gone to for help. So that's exactly what Draco had done too.

When the reply had come, it was like a ray of sunshine parting through the clouds. He wasn't alone. The letters were friendly but courteous to begin with, swapped every week or two. But then it was every week, every other day, and towards the end of summer practically morning there was a new envelope waiting for him with his breakfast. They were the only two people who really comprehended what the other had gone through, and something that started as convenient had ended up essential.

For Draco anyway. He was worried what she might have heard at summer school about him, that she would be easily swayed by the opinions of others. But seeing as she had been more or less surrounded by children who equally had had no idea they were capable of magic until Professor McGonagall had shown up on their doors he didn't appear to have anything to worry about. The tone of her letters only got more excited, more open and playful.

Those letters became the only highlight of his day. And now not one sensible thing would come out of his mouth.

Hermione was staring out of the window at the fast moving scenery of what Draco would guess to be Buckinghamshire. Her thumb was rubbing at a key that hung on a chain around her neck. It was now polished to a bright silver, but Draco remembered when she had claimed it in the tunnel below the Death Eaters head quarters, solving a puzzle that had left the rest of the group almost pulling their shoes and socks off to start using their toes to help in the equation.

She was easily the most intelligent person he had ever met, and for that reason he was certain she would get sorted into Ravenclaw. He'd like to think she might come to Slytherin with him, she might be ambitious enough, but he'd never read a devious or malevolent word from her in the last year so he figured her chances were slim.

"Ah!" he said suddenly, his thoughts of school prompting his desperate brain to come up with something to talk about. "How did your...GSPDs go?" he said, raising an eyebrow. He was trying to think of the Muggle equivalent of OWLs but they were just called a random jumble of letters.

"My GCSEs!" she cried, face flushing in excitement, getting what he was talking about right away. She launched into how she'd got five A*s, four As and three Bs, and of course she was disappointed but considering she'd spent most of the year teaching herself magic, and her Geography coursework had been due in the week after Germany, she didn't really mind. He took a minute or two to work out the equivalent Hogwarts grades, then spent the next ten minutes teasing her about being such a perfectionist.

After that the conversation flowed freely. They bought lunch from the trolley lady at midday, and opened the window to try and let some fresh air into the stuffy compartment. As the hot September sun rose and fell they moved around the seats to find the shade, eventually plonking themselves on the floor to play exploding snap.

As evening began drawing in two girls yanked open the compartment door. "There you are!" cried a girl with a long face and mousey brown hair. A taller black girl with a wild afro tamed back with a bright pink head-band stood by her side.

"Oh hi!" said Hermione, jumping to her feet guiltily, her playing cards fluttering to the ground, making sharp cracking sounds as several connected. "I lost track of time! Girls, this is Draco," she said indicating him as he pulled himself to his feet. "Draco, this is Lavender Brown and Lisa Turpin."

Lisa, the black girl, bounded in and gave him a firm handshake. But Lavender had a queer half smile on her face and her cheeks were almost as pink as Hermione's. "Right," she said, gathering her wits. "Well, it's so nice to finally meet you." She fumbled for Hermione's hand whilst never taking her eyes off Draco. "Some of the other girls said we've nearly there, so you need to get changed into your uniform," she told her as they backed out the door. "We'll bring her back to you at the station," she called to Draco as they left. Slightly perplexed he went to close the door after them, only to hear Lavender scolding Hermione.

"You never said he looked like that!"

xxx

Draco thought better of staying in the carriage by himself and went the other way to find Blaise and Sarah again. He managed to reach them without threatening to be thrown off the train by anyone, which he chalked up as a win. They were sat in their compartment along with Blaise's brother and a girl who must have been Sarah's friend Natalie McDonald. Natalie was so excitable it was like stepping into a tornado as she ran around the small space, and Draco was quite pleased Sarah just threw him his uniform for him to change into in the privacy of the boys' loos.

The train was slowing, and as Draco walked back into the compartment they finally ground to a halt in Hogsmeade station. He felt stiff from being on the train all day, and was grateful to get out into the open air, even if it was unusually hot for autumn. Lavender, Lisa and Hermione wove their way through the crowd to them and introductions were made. "Where do we go now?" asked Sarah nervously.

"Err," said Draco, trying to remember. "In the first year we took boats with the ground keeper, then the second year we went in horse drawn carriages with everyone else."

"Except there weren't any horses," murmured Blaise, peering around. "They just drove themselves." They found themselves being pulled along in a current of students heading away from the platform, so without any better idea of what to do let themselves be steered away.

After a few minutes of walking through the wizarding village everyone seemed to stop, and there was a ripple of confusion coming from the front of the hoard. Draco and the others pushed their way forward, but as soon as they spied the carriages he realised why the students had not gone near them. Like Blaise had said, when they'd rode the vehicles before the reins had been suspended mid air, as if something invisible was pulling them ahead. But there was definitely something there now; big, bony horses with leathery black skin, blood red eyes and sweeping wings like small dragons. Hermione gawped. "I thought there weren't any horses?" she said to a puzzled looking Blaise. Armand Zabini frowned.

"What do you mean?" he chirped. "There aren't. There's just the wagons." It seemed the same argument was being repeated throughout the group – for every person that could see the horses like Draco, Hermione and Blaise, there were two or three that couldn't.

"They're called Thestrals," said a voice louder than the rest. Harry Potter broke through the masses with Parvati Patil scuttling behind him. Draco couldn't say what his face showed, anger, apprehension? Everyone quietened down to listen to him, 'The Boy That Lived,' thought Draco scornfully. He was a fraud.

"You can only see them if you've seen someone die," Potter explained curtly, heading for the nearest carriage, yanking open the door, and sliding inside. Parvati followed and slammed the door shut to a chorus of mutterings. Hermione had gone slightly pale, and had to be asked three times by Lavender what the beasts looked like before she heard. Draco felt cold, as cold has had been in the forest in Germany with Seamus Finnigan dying on the ground. This wasn't exactly the omen he'd been looking for on his first day back at school.

The student body moved towards the wagons in trepidation. Some voiced that if Harry Potter had done it it must be fine. Others said that was exactly why they shouldn't. Draco tried to tell himself that the only difference now was that he could see the Thestrals, that the carriages were the just as safe to ride in as before. He wondered if Potter himself could even see them, after all it was the other Harry who had been with them in Germany? He decided to ponder it another time. He hopped up into a free one with Hermione, Lavender and Lisa, whilst Blaise went in the one behind with her brother, Sarah and Natalie.

When all the wagons were full they lurched forward in unison, trundling along towards the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The three girls hung out the windows and gasped as the grandiose building came into view, but Draco could feel himself shrinking away from it. In that place he was still the villain, it was home to the lowest and most shameful moments of his life and he'd been running from it for three whole years.

But he couldn't run any more. Inevitably the carriages came to a stop and the students found themselves back out in the still warm September evening. Professor McGonagall was standing on the wide sweeping steps leading up to the school's entrance. She'd been the Deputy Headmistress when Hogwarts had closed its doors last, but now she was acting as the full Head with Dumbledore's health dwindling as it was.

"Good evening!" she called out in her broad Scottish accent, and they all turned to give her their full attention. "Welcome," she said warmly. Draco remembered her as being quite a strict and practical woman, not someone to be trifled with or who would be overly sentimental. But there was a rosiness in her cheeks, a glint in her eye which suggested she was genuinely pleased to see them all.

"Welcome," she said again when everyone had quietened down. "Welcome back to some of you, and simply welcome to others. We are thrilled to once more be opening the doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some of you will be used to our annual Sorting Ceremony, whereby students are placed into the house that befits them the best. However as this is not a normal start to the year, neither shall be the sorting. We will begin with those in the First Year, and then every year after that will be re-sorted as well. Each house has an honourable and distinguished history, and we hope that during your time at this school you will continue on that legacy with pride. I would ask then that the First Years come forward, and are then followed by the Second Years and so forth."

She spread her hands out and indicated the base of the stairs as students slowly began rearranging themselves. Draco didn't trust his feet to work. He had just assumed those who had been to school before would be put back where they had been originally – why were they bothering to sort them again? It was bad enough anyway he belonged to Slytherin, the house of traitors, but now he would have to suffer the entire school watching him as the patched-up hat called out Voldemort's old house.

Hermione and her friends looked excited, but Draco could only manage a weak smile as they began walking inside the ancient castle. Being tall he could see most of the great hall in front of the other students as they entered, and he was unnerved to see the four tables completely empty. The teachers table stood at the front, and many members of staff new and old smiled and waved as the students all piled in.

Hermione was staring at the ceiling as the lazy summer evening blew by. "It's enchanted to look like the sky outside, isn't it?" she asked Draco quietly. He nodded in response, and she smiled a little broader. "I read about it, in Hogwarts, A History."

The sorting was a lengthy process. Draco barely listened as the wizened old hat was brought out to sing its song on the three legged stool that every student would find themselves on in the next hour or so. McGonagall took her place at the centre of the teacher's table, and tiny little Professor Flitwick, the new deputy and Charms teacher, stood on a stool of his own to begin reading them names.

The only first year Draco really new was Armand Zabini, who was the last to go under the hat. He seemed very pleased to be chosen for his family's house of Slytherin, and Blaise clapped along with the rest as he took his place. Draco reasoned it wasn't a shameful place to be sorted for everyone.

The tables filled and Draco's dread grew. He knew a few names as younger siblings of people he had gone to school with before, or from families that his parents had entertained at parties whilst Blaise and he had sneaked Fire Whiskey from his father's cabinets. When they reached the Fourth Years he was unsurprised as Sarah Potter was placed into Gryffindor, and applauded her as she sat beside her friend Natalie on the same table. As the new houses grew so did the cheers as the latest members were announced. The Fifth Year came and went, and then it was the turn of the Sixth Years.

Draco thought he might pass out. There were only a few familiar faces left from his year, and as was the case with the year above and below too there were considerably less numbers in their years as compared to the First to Fourth Years. Draco closed his eyes and tried desperately not to think it was because he had let the Death Eaters in to kill them all and set the Basilisk loose amongst them. It's in the past, he thought over and over, it's in the past.

Susan Bones was the first to go, and she was one of the few Draco did know. Flitwick's voice was growing hoarse after reading out so many names, but he carried on enthusiastically enough. Susan was declared a Hufflepuff and sat herself happily below the black and yellow banners. All too soon it was Hermione's go, and he squeezed her hand for good luck as she stepped up to wear the hat.

The hat took different amounts of time to make up its mind for each student; sometimes it only needed mere seconds, and for others like Hermione it spent minutes deciding. When its ripped brim opened like a mouth and yelled out to the room Draco's heart sunk.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it told them, and a somewhat oblivious Hermione raced over to sit with Lavender Brown, who had also been sorted there. Some things might change, thought Draco grimly, but he doubted the bad blood between the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin would ever be one of them. Their friendship was over before it had even begun.

Morag MacDougal became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Draco's name being called. He knew he wasn't imagining the lull in conversation that accompanied his long walk to the stool, or the flurry of whispers that came after.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," said the familiar wheezy voice as Draco slipped the hat over his head. As a First Year it had fallen completely over his eyes and rested on the bridge of his nose, but now it rested just above his eyebrows, and he bowed his head so the brim would shield his view of the other students.

After a short while, Draco began to wonder if the hat was possibly defective it had been silent for so long, but after another moment or two it perked up again. "Well this is interesting," it muttered. "Very surprising indeed. I see plenty of determination and gusto, pride – but a little bit of pride never hurt anyone now did it? Humility, a keen awareness of honour, and then there's…well…"

"What?" Draco couldn't help but whisper. "What's bothering you?" He was getting agitated by sitting there so long, fully aware that everyone would be looking at him.

"I guess you would call it…courage," said the hat. "A sense of morality."

"Courage?" repeated Draco before he could help himself, but it was too late. The hat opened its brim and shouted as loudly as it could;

"The best place for you seems to be GRYFFINDOR! "

About two thirds of the table by the red and gold banners burst into applause to welcome their new house member, and a good half of the remaining students clapped politely as well. But there were a number of pupils, who like Draco himself, were stunned into complete silence.

"W-what?" he managed to stammer to the smiling deputy head, peeking out from under the brim of the hat. "I'm in…what?"

But Flitwick only smiled further from his perch on his stool. "Master Malfoy," he said quietly. "It is important to remember that the hat looks at who you are, and not what your name is. Now if you would kindly take your seat, we can continue."

Draco slowly pulled the hat off his head and placed it back on the stool. Hermione and Lavender were cheering loudly as he sleepwalked to sit beside them, and Hermione threw her arms around him for a bear hug. After a moment he realised he should return it. How had that just happened? he thought numbly. Something like relief was seeping slowly through his insides.

He turned to look at the remaining students waiting before the hat. Potter and Parvati were staring at him incredulously from the queue, the lack of pleasure clear on their faces. They waited as Parvati's twin sister Padma, a healthier, more friendly reflection of herself, was sorted back into Ravenclaw, and then she and Harry were returned promptly to Gryffindor.

They didn't spare him a second glance.

Blaise was the last of the Sixth Years, and unsurprisingly she went straight back into Slytherin. What was surprising was the detour she took after taking the hat from her head. Instead of seating herself under the green and silver banners she walked casually over to the Gryffindors, causing people to look around in confusion. Was she lost? But she stopped beside Draco and leaned over. "You know this means we can't be friends anymore," she whispered into his ear with a wink, and with that disappeared back to her own house.

xxx

The next few weeks passed in a strange blur for Draco. It was extremely disorientating going back to the Gryffindor tower following meals and classes after the Slytherin dungeon had been his home for his first two years at Hogwarts. But whenever he arrived there a warm sense of relief would always wash over him, and even after only a few days he swore nowhere had ever seemed more like home to him. The fire was constantly roaring and the plush, mismatching sofas and chairs were always a welcome respite after a hectic day off lessons. There would be gaggles of students chattering and doing homework, and no one ever seemed to get pinned to the rafters. Unlike in Slytherin.

The dorms had been a bit tricky, as Draco had found himself sharing with Harry and only one other Muggle-Born boy called Dean Thomas. But more often than not Harry spent his time with Parvati, or the Ravenclaw Terry Boot, so Draco didn't have to worry about bumping into him in the bathroom. He was aware that Harry and possibly even Parvati had warned Dean about staying clear of Draco. Dean had responded by throwing a Muggle football into Draco's lap, and informing him that he couldn't shoot penalties against himself. Draco had taken to Dean immediately.

Lessons were interesting. Despite being in the Sixth Year, in general their level of education was acceptable at best and downright none existent at worse. Most students had been homeschooled after leaving Hogwarts four years ago, either by parents or tutors, and it meant their knowledge was often focused on certain areas with huge gaps in others. Draco was one of the few Death Eater children who knew little expect potions and spells that would hurt you and a head-full of anti-Muggle propaganda. Almost every lesson he found himself desperately scribbling notes, trying to keep up with what was being taught.

Hermione and the other Muggle Borns had a broad sweep of general knowledge from Summer School that meant they weren't really good at anything. That was, expect for Hermione herself, who seemed to have ingested five years worth of texts books since November and was at the top of almost every class. Draco was mortified by this; he'd had it in his head he was going to be the one guiding Hermione, helping her learn the ropes, but her grasp of magic was already better than his had ever been. He did his best to hide his inability from her for as long as possible, the shame was so unbearable. It had lasted until the end of their second week, when they had been paired together in Charms and Draco was practically rendered mute by his embarrassment at being unable to help in any way with their assignment. When Hermione worked out what was the cause of his shame, she seemed overcome with delight, promptly drew up a extracurricular plan for them both and began tutoring him immediately. After that homework suddenly became a lot more enjoyable.

In fact, between homework, extra study, lessons and meals, Draco found himself almost always in the company of Hermione Granger. She relaxed her extreme appearance as the days went by, easing off the make-up and letting her hair curl a little more naturally, which Draco couldn't say he minded. She was so easy to be around, always having something to talk about. They worked on school work as well as extra catch up projects she devised for themselves. They both knew a reasonable amount of French and would often attempt to have stilted conversations which generally ended in nonsense. All of this seemed to add fuel to Harry and Parvati's fire, and Draco and Hermione were always rewarded with a scowl from them both whenever they ran into each other.

"I honestly don't understand it," said Hermione sadly one day as they watched the pair stalk past them in the common room. Draco had to remind himself that she had only known the other Harry, the real Harry as he thought of him, and even then only for a few days. He had tried to explain to her that this was the way the Harry of this world had always been, but she refused to believe the Harry they knew wasn't lurking in there somewhere. "They had exactly the same life until they were one, genetically they're identical, they've just had different upbringings. I know he's got it in him." Draco wasn't so sure. About Harry or what 'genetically' meant.

A lot of the student body from the higher years still avoided Draco, but that was preferable to being attacked like he had been on the train so he didn't mind. It seemed that getting sorted into Gryffindor had gone a long way to start changing people's minds about him. In fact Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordon had even approached him in the library to apologise for the way they had behaved.

As the days went on Draco became more and more confident going out into the depths of the castle alone. Once or twice he got cornered, or things thrown at him, but mostly people just left him in peace. So when Lavender Brown hauled Hermione off to talk about boys, and Dean was too busy with homework for football, Draco would just take himself on walks, trying to remember every nook and crevice he'd known so well before.

Sometimes his feet appeared to have a mind of their own, carting him off in directions as if they had some desired destination unknown to him. He would find himself outside standing by the gamekeeper Hagrid's pumpkin patch, or just shy of the thrashing arms of the Whomping Willow, or on the shore of the Great Lake. Inside it would be the middle of a corridor, empty save for a stone statue of a one eyed crone, or the old History of Magic classroom. Tonight was the third time he'd found himself wandering up the Northern Tower. It was late, well past curfew, but sleep had been eluding him for hours and he knew if he didn't do something to tire himself out it wouldn't come at all.

As he creaked open the old wooden door of Hogwarts' highest tower he was surprised to find more than the starry sky and cool night air waiting for him. Hermione was leaning against the stone wall looking out, and jumped out of her skin at the noise of the door, clutching her chest in relief when she saw who it was.

"You scared me!" she cried, swatting his arm playfully. Draco hadn't expected anyone to be up here, especially after hours. Especially her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked slightly defensively as the door swung shut. He meant to say something a little more convivial, but it was the first thing that leapt from his mouth.

"Well, what are you doing here?" replied Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's after curfew."

"Ah – well I don't intend on getting caught," Draco said childishly, raising his eyebrow. She frowned at him again.

"As opposed to the students that do?"

Draco couldn't help but laugh out loud, his breath condensing in the air. The wind was making its presence known, blowing through them with gusto to remind them just how high up they were. Draco had pulled trainers and a zipped up hoodie over his pyjamas, but he realised now all Hermione had on was a t-shirt and shorts, and she was shivering vigorously. "You're cold," exclaimed Draco, his previous awkwardness forgotten as his yanked on the zip of his jumper and threw it around Hermione's shoulders.

His hands froze as he clutched the lapels of the hoodie, the zips cold against his palms. The knuckles of his thumbs were resting against her shuddering chest, her skin cold against them despite being hidden by fabric. She rose her hands just below his and pulled the jumper tighter. "Thanks," she said, cheeks rosy from the wind. The silver key hung from the chain on her neck as always, glinting in the moonlight. Draco was dimly aware of the fire-fairies darting through the air, and the giant squid lounging lazily in the watery depths of the lake.

"I couldn't sleep," he stuttered, lurching back to her previous question, his hands still holding onto the material of the jumper. "I sometimes walk around the grounds when I'm restless."

"Hmm," she said, looking out over the vista. "Me too. It's funny we should both end up here."

Her skin was covered in goose bumps, and the toe nails that Lavender had painted were curling on the flagstoned floor. The breeze tossed and played with her soft brown tendrils as she stared thoughtfully out over the school grounds. He'd been alone with her almost every day since they had returned to Hogwarts, but there were always people milling around, bright sunshine, noises of the student body. Now it seemed there was only the two of them against the night, high in the clouds, away from any other living thing. Apart from the squid, who smacked at the water's surface in amusement.

"Well, I was of course following you," joked Draco after the pause stretched onto just a little too long, his smoky breath hanging lightly in the air. "I figured you'd be up to no good."

"Me!" she cried, pretending to be outraged. "I'm a model student!"

"Some might say you keep questionable company," Draco told her, watching her for a response.

Hermione had stopped shuddering with his hoodie around her, and they both still clung to the zipped edges. "People can say what they bloody like," she told him coldly, and he looked up to meet her gaze. "I'm done caring what idiots think about me." She reached forward and placed her hand on his chest, just above his heart.

He stopped breathing. "Now you're cold," she whispered.

He looked at her small hand, with chipped nails the colour of her toes. "I'm fine," he managed.

"You're blue."

"I look good in blue," he insisted. He tried to smile but all his energy seemed to be concentrating on the warmth coming from her palm.

She looked at his face, studying the lines. He watched her dark brown eyes skimming his features. "Can," she began after a while. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded. "Why did you write to me?"

The question took him by surprise. "I thought you'd understand." He took in a lungful of chilly air, his eyes on her hand. "Did you mind?"

She took a moment to think, which made him nervous. "I was surprised."

Draco wanted to step away from her, but seemed unable to let go of the hoodie. "I knew you barely knew me, but...I guess I felt I knew you."

"I thought you hated me," she laughed, half whisper.

"I didn't know you at all." His hands were numb and his head light. Every movement seemed over exaggerated, the seconds epic. "But Harry trusted you, and the more I understood him, the other him," he amended, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice – this wasn't the place. "It made me respect you too, want to know you more than a few pages of a profile. It didn't take long to see how special you were."

She stiffened, and he didn't know if that was good or bad. "Do you know me now?" her brown eyes were steady and Draco forced his to be the same.

"No," he told her. Her eyes flickered, hurt, and she made to pull her hand away, but he caught it. "Not as much as I'd like to," he said, a wash of confidence from the warmth of her skin dousing his nerves. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" she repeated. Slowly, he took a step forward, his chest touching hers. It was her turn to stare at their hands, pressed again against his heart. He could feel her blood pulsing, her heart fluttering.

"Not yet," he said again, as he bent down his head, and softly kissed her lips.

xxx

Draco blinked his eyes as the morning light streamed through the gap in the curtains of his four poster bed-hangings. Hermione.

It wasn't a dream.

He sat up, immediately wide awake. Panic seized him as the details of the previous night filtered back through his brain. The kiss. The kiss after that. Her smile.

He'd been tormenting himself with thoughts of this moment for months, picturing her acceptance, her rejection, trying to convince himself he didn't care, that she meant nothing to him.

As his breathing slowed, he began to realise that maybe he meant a little more than nothing to her.

Being a Sunday, Dean was sprawled amidst his bed sheets with a Muggle newspaper spread out in front of him, drinking in the sports pages filled with photographs that unnervingly did not move. Potter's bed was unslept in. Draco shoved some jeans on and called out a 'hello' to Dean as he threw himself into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Dean managed a reply about thirty second after he'd closed the door.

Draco walked into the Great Hall for breakfast with snakes writhing in his belly. There she was. Wedged between Lavender Brown and Lisa Turpin the Ravenclaw, determinedly poking at her porridge, ignoring their elbows in her ribs as her cheeks glowed rosy again. All three spotted him entering, and Hermione's face went from rosy to scarlet. Lisa and Lavender suddenly became very still, hawking him as he sat down opposite them, which was far worse than the gossiping. Sarah Potter and Natalie McDonald were sat a few seats down, and thankfully gave him a hearty wave good morning that he could respond to.

He pulled some toast from a nearby rack and concentrated on spreading a layer of jam on its surface. Lisa and Lavender resumed their whispering, but Hermione seemed paralysed with uncertainty, her eyes half cast in Draco's direction. Did she regret it? Was she embarrassed? The rod of steel that Draco had spent most of his life growing up with flicked coldly up his spine, shooing away his doubts. He remembered precisely where she'd put her hands up in that tower. You didn't do that unless you meant business.

So he did the most logical thing he could think of, which was to run the toe of his boot up the inside of her thigh.

Hermione dropped the pumpkin juice she was holding over the entire contents of hers, Lavender's and Lisa's breakfasts. Hermione froze in horror. Lisa and Lavender squealed predictably, jumping backwards to keep the juice from pooling into their laps, as Lee Jordon and Angelina Johnson snorted into their scrambled eggs.

After taking a few breaths, Hermione finally raised her eyes to his, and Draco knew where he stood as that smile reached the left hand side of her mouth.

xxx

Harry had had enough. Even from the other end of the Gryffindor table, it wasn't hard to see the way they were looking at each other.

Parvati huffed, high pitched, from the back for her throat. "Of all the nerve," she said, shaking her head.

Harry ground his teeth. "Let's go sit with Terry," he said, and stood up without waiting for a response.

"Oh, yeah," said Parvati quickly, snatching up her bag. "Good idea, and maybe my sister..." Perhaps she could tell Harry wasn't really listening, he was too lost in his own thoughts, but he was grateful when she trailed off.

After everything they'd put him through, his family, his friends, to see Granger and Malfoy making gooey eyes at each other made him feel it had been some sort of conspiracy all along. Why should they get to be happy?

Terry, as usual, had stayed a little longer after breakfast, strumming on his acoustic guitar. As it was a Sunday there weren't any lessons to go to, and he seemed happy picking at the strings, singing softly under his breath. "Hey," said Harry, dropping his bag and slamming himself down into the seat next to Terry.

"Morning sunshine," said Terry, not pausing in his strumming or looking up from the strings.

"Terry," said Parvati eagerly, sitting beside Harry and leaning in closer to them both. "You'll never believe what's happened."

"Malfoy's dating Granger," said Terry, again not looking up.

Parvati deflated visibly. "Oh, right," she said, and Harry ground his teeth again to hide his irritation. "You know?"

Terry shrugged and finally did them the decency of looking up. "So?"

"Soo," said Parvati in a sing-song voice. "It's outrageous, who do they think they are?"

Terry let his hands relax away from the guitar. "Why do you care?"

Harry leant back against the Ravenclaw table. "I just don't see why they should get to be happy."

Terry arched an eyebrow brazenly at him. "Someone round here should be," he said, and went back to his instrument.

Harry glared at him, and wished for once he wouldn't be such an ass.

Parvati's eyes flicked between them both uneasily. "I," she said slowly. "Am going to go say hi to Padma, okay? Be back in a moment." Harry didn't say anything as she rose, eyes still on them, and left.

Terry rolled his eyes, and swung his guitar around to prop it up against the bench. "What?" he said.

Harry shook his head and looked away, glancing only briefly at the Gryffindor table. He realised that Granger and Malfoy had stood up and were leaving the hall, and as his eyes moved to follow them, Malfoy's head turned and the two of them locked eyes, just for a moment.

"I thought you'd understand," he said, snapping his gaze away, focusing on his trainers instead.

Terry sighed and grabbed the guitar neck, standing up and stretching so his shoulders popped. "There seems to be a lot I don't understand," he said, not unkindly. "You guys feel like explaining, you let me know."

He rested the guitar over his shoulder like Harry might do with his broomstick, and sauntered off in the same direction as Malfoy; out the hall.

Harry watched him for a moment, tapping his foot as his agitation rose. "Wait," he said, knowing he was probably about to do something really stupid, and got to his feet as well, jogging after Terry. Terry stopped and cocked his head as well as his eyebrow.

"Yes?" he said, standing on the threshold and propping the door open.

Harry swallowed and clicked his tongue. "I think maybe we should talk," he said, and slipped through the door jar, into the entrance hall. He glanced back to see Terry shrug, let the door go and follow him.

"About what," said Terry.

"Everything," said Harry.

xxx

"Are you sure?" asked Draco again as they stood at the bottom of the front steps that led into the school. The unusually warm October sun was beating down and making him squint a little more than he would have liked.

Hermione laughed and squeezed his hands from where he was holding onto hers. "Yes," she said, her cheeks that delightful shade of pink again.

Draco wasn't sure he could really trust what he was hearing; good things didn't happen to him. "No regrets?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow scornfully at him in a way that made his pulse quicken just a little. "No," she said, leaning in to him.

"But," he said, leaning away. "People will talk, people won't like it."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Will you just shut up and kiss me again." She seemed a little shocked by her own audacity, so Draco did as he was told before she could change her mind.

Her lips were soft and strong under his. He'd only snuck a few wet and messy pecks with daughters of his father's friends, back when they used to host big parties and Blaise and he would dare each other, picking out targets to stick their tongues down out of sheer boredom. This was so completely different. He felt...connected. Whole.

He was just slipping his hands around her waist when a couple of squeals broke his concentration and Hermione jerked away from him in surprise. They looked towards the front doors to see Lavender and Lisa peeking out from inside, glee and borderline hysteria clear on their faces.

Upon realising they'd been spotted, Draco thought they might be embarrassed, but on the contrary Lavender grabbed Lisa's hand and they sprinted up towards them. "We need Hermione," she gibbered, grabbing her hand and, despite the look of horror on her face, dragging her back towards the school.

Draco laughed, an easiness settling over him that he'd never felt before. And although he wanted nothing more than to wrestle Hermione back from her friends and take her somewhere quiet and private, he found himself waving to the three girls. "See you later," he laughed as they slipped back into the shadows, Hermione attempting to look angry, but not doing a very good job.

He laughed again to himself and jammed his hands into his pockets. It was such nice weather outside he wanted to stay out for a while, so began walking along the grounds. He was pleased after ten minutes or so, when he recognised a couple of familiar figures on the grass, and wandered over to meet them.

Blaise was teaching her brother Armand which way up to hold a broom. Draco's ball of sunshine, Sunny, was bobbing happily by her shoulder. He generally split his time between the two of them, flocking to whoever was outside first, eager for company.

"Mother never let us fly," Blaise said to Draco as they watched the youngster speed about above their heads on Blaise's broom, as Armand was a first year and not allowed his own. "But now father's back he says so long as we don't wear any of the tailored clothes from Switzerland he has no problem with it."

Draco ducked as Armand tore by, whopping with delight as he spun around head over heels. "He perhaps mentioned something about not breaking your necks too, yes?"

Blaise blinked. "No, he wasn't specific about that," she said.

xxx

"Everything?" repeated Terry.

Harry had stalked off along the corridor, moving up the stairs and away from the Great Hall. But he was please to see that Terry was following. "More or less," he said, immediately questioning whether or not this was a good idea. But he was angry and seeing Malfoy and Granger like that... He curled his fists. He didn't have many friends now, and he wanted to let Terry in, like the old days.

"Starting with why you've been such a jack-ass the past few months?"

Harry turned and glared at Terry, who didn't seem the least bit fazed. "Terry," he said, tired and probably a little bit tenser than he meant to.

"Ziggy," replied Terry, mimicking the syllables in the same way. Harry opened his mouth to protest the ridiculous nick-name that he'd come up with, but Terry cut him off. "Let me pop home, drop off my guitar," he said, shrugging the instrument on his shoulder. "Then we can talk."

Harry folded his arms. "Fine," he said, letting the nick-name slide. "See you in five."

Terry saluted and walked off with purpose. If he was excited or intrigued by Harry's offer to talk, he wasn't showing it.

"Hi!" came Parvati's voice, and Harry turned to see her coming round the corner. He felt irritation flare inside him, but he pushed it down. It wasn't her fault he was mad, and telling her to go away would only cause more problems. "I saw you guys leaving," she said, coming over to him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said, opening his arm to let her in for a hug, but something in his tone must have given her away. She leant back and looked at him. "What?" he said.

"That's what I'm asking?" said Parvati, raising her eyebrows.

"What?" said Harry again, more seriously.

Parvati cocked her head. "I don't know, you tell me?" she said. "What did you say to Terry?"

"Nothing," said Harry defensively.

"Uh-huh," said Parvati, pursing her lips.

Harry bobbed his head. "Okay," he confessed. "Nothing yet."

"Harry!" hissed Parvati. "You know you can't tell him, not anything, not ever!"

Harry pulled away from her and groaned. "See, this is why I slipped out."

"No," said Parvati, wagging her finger. "No, this is nothing to do with me. You know you can't tell him, Sirius said so."

"Tell me what?"

Harry turned to see Terry had returned. He must have moved fast to get to Ravenclaw and back in that amount of time. Maybe he was keen to hear Harry talk after all?

Harry glanced at Parvati and started walking. "Nothing you don't know."

Parvati took no more than a second to fall into step with him, Terry not far behind. "That's because I was there," she hissed, grabbing his elbow. "You weren't even there, you only know because I know and that's as far as it can go!"

"I can hear you," said Terry amused, and Harry huffed.

"It's not right," he said. "I can't live like this, and seeing them like that..." he trailed off. "I'm not talking about the whole world, I'm just talking about Terry. One person, who's he going to tell?"

Parvati glared. "That's not the point, we promised."

"I can't keep lying," said Harry as they reached the second floor. He wasn't sure where he was headed, he was just following his feet.

"Oh yeah," said Parvati. "How do you think I feel? I can't even tell my sister. My own twin, have you thought about that? She can practically read my mind, what do you think this has done to us?"

"Er," said Terry from behind them. "Maybe I should leave you guys alone, this seems pretty personal."

"No," snapped Harry, slamming into a random door and pushing his way in. It was a transfiguration classroom by the looks of it, but he'd never had any classes there. "Parvati I'm not changing my mind – what's the worst that could happen? He doesn't believe us? He won't tell anyone, will you?"

He looked back at Terry as he came inside the classroom and let the door shut. He held up his hands, just visible under the grey legwarmers he'd gotten into the habit of wearing on his wrists. "Tell anyone what?"

Harry considered his friend. They'd known each other for years, their dads were friends and they'd always got on well, both in and out of school. Everything was familiar about him, the Muggle band t-shirt he was wearing, the rimless glasses, the knitted beanie hat. "Our secret," he said. "If we tell you that no one else can know, not your parents, no one else at the school, do you think you can do that?"

For the sake of my sanity? he almost added, but decided that was a touch dramatic.

"I guess," said Terry, a little bewildered.

"Harry," pleaded Parvati. "This isn't safe, we promised Sirius."

But Harry shook his head. "Either we tell him, or we can't be friends anymore."

Terry raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" he asked.

But at that moment, the door burst open again, and three giggling girls stumbled in. All their faces dropped upon seeing who was inside the room though.

"Oh," said Hermione Granger, sobering up instantly. "Oh, sorry, we didn't know-"

"We're having a private conversation," snapped Parvati, squaring up to her and the two girls behind them. Harry knew they were all Muggle-borns; Granger and the brown-haired girl Lavender were in Gryffindor, and the other one, a black robust girl with a pop of tight afro was called Lisa something, and was in Ravenclaw. It was this girl that dropped her shoulders back, and stepped up to Parvati.

"It's a public room though," she said, unamused.

"That we got to first," insisted Parvati.

"Yeah," said Harry, his eyes boring into Granger. "So why don't you run along, and leave us the Hell alone?"

"What is your problem?" demanded Lavender, but Granger fluttered her hands.

"No," she said. "No it's okay, let's just go somewhere else."

"No," insisted Lavender. "I'm serious, what is your problem you two?" She was staring daggers at Harry and Parvati equally, and Terry was looking between them all.

"Nothing," said Harry coldly, his eyes not leaving Granger's. "Just leave us alone, we're having a difficult conversation."

"Telling more people not to like Hermione?" challenged Lavender. "Or Draco?" She took Terry in, who regarded her back. "Don't listen to them, they tried the same speech on us, and on Dean. They're just mean."

Harry felt like there was a whistling in his ears. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't we?"scoffed Lisa.

"Guys, let's just go," pleaded Granger.

Parvati laughed. "Yeah, that's it, run away, that's what you're good at."

Granger suddenly went very still. "What did you say?" she said, her voice very low.

"You heard her," sneered Harry, stepping closer to her. "Run back to your boyfriend, leave the mess behind for us to clear up, that's what you're good at."

Granger threw her book bag down with such sudden force that everyone jumped back. "You know what," she growled. "I am so sick of this. I am sick of treading on eggshells around you both, when you know perfectly well there was nothing we could have done, and Seamus' death was nobody's fault but the Death Eater who stabbed him in the gut."

A moment passed, and Harry just stared, his teeth ground down.

"Um," said Terry. "What?"

"Yeah," agreed Lisa. "What?"

"Stop blaming us for what Harry did," said Granger, her jaw locked. "When all he did was save your sister and defeat the most evil wizard that ever lived." She crossed her arms, tears in her eyes. "Something you could never have done."

Harry lunged for her before he even realised what he was doing, only to be caught and swung around by Terry.

"You take that back you bitch!" screeched Parvati, starting forward before Lisa got in between them.

"Hold it hold it!" shouted Terry, releasing Harry and shoving him away from the girls. "What the Hell is everyone talking about? Stop eye gouging and explain!"

"That girl," Harry snarled. "Helped ruin my life. She stood by and let Seamus DIE!"

"We did everything we could to save him!" Hermione screamed back, straining against Lavender and Lisa as they held her back. "Me, Draco, Harry! You have no right to hold us responsible!"

Terry looked between Harry and the girl, bewildered. "But…that's Harry," he said.

Parvati was pulling at her hair. "This isn't right," she said, shaking her head. "We shouldn't be talking about this, any of this."

"We don't need to tell anyone anything," Hermione snapped back, relaxing away from her bodyguards. "You just need to let go and move on."

Harry laughed, a nasty sound even to his own ears. "Let go, she says. You knew him, what, a day? I knew him my whole life. And then he came along, dragged you all into danger, then left us to pick up the pieces!"

"That's not what happened and you know it," said Granger, staring daggers at him.

"What," shouted Terry. "What the Hell happened?"

"You took my life from me!" Harry bellowed, ignoring him. "I didn't ask for any of this! I – he – I have dreams! He won't leave me alone! And you and Malfoy, it's like a I can't get away from it!" He stormed up to her, jabbing a finger at his forehead. "I'm scarred! Deformed! People talk to me about what happened and I have to LIE! My family won't look at me the same way – and you couldn't care less!"

Her mouth twisted. "You selfish, unfeeling little brat! You think you're the only one who's suffered? You're sounding like someone did this to you on purpose, you know he came here by accident, I know Sirius explained it all to you! So don't act like the victim here, at least you have a family!"

Harry shoved her to the ground, with such force it took Lisa and Lavender with her. Her heard Parvati gasp, and within a second Terry had seized his arm, yanking him around and giving him a shove of his own. "What that Hell is wrong with you!" he cried. "You don't hit girls, not ever!"

But his words were lost somewhat in the almighty crash of thunder that rumbled in from outside. Harry couldn't help but turn and look out the window, and was taken aback to see the blue skies had been replaced with stormy grey ones. Rain began lashing against the window, and more thunder and lightning flared.

"What the…?" said Lisa as she got to her feet, helping Lavender and Granger as well. But Granger's face was no longer angry or even hurt.

She was scared.

"It can't be," she said.

"Scared of a little rain," sniggered Parvati.

"It's not the rain," said Granger, panic in her voice that irritated Harry even more. "It's what comes after."

"Oh look, just get out," said Harry. "I've had enough of this."

"No listen," said Granger.

"I said GET OUT," shouted Harry, as thunder boomed right over their heads and winds rattled the window panes violently.

Terry Boot stood in between the two groups, arms up. "Look, I think everyone should calm down-" he began, but Harry turned on him.

"Terry, I'm sorry but you have no God damn idea what you're talking about so just leave it!"

Terry starred coldly at him as the rain continued to beat down. "You know what," he said, his voice low. "You're right. I don't have any idea. Because you shut me out. I got grounded, and you guys went into battle! I nursed a hangover whilst Seamus died and you somehow, beyond any reasonable explanation, killed You-Know-Who!"

"Terry-" Harry started as the thunder rumbled again. "Terry it's not my fault!"

"Yeah, yeah," he drawled in his Mancunian accent. "I get it Ziggy, you've got issues, but to be honest I'm sick of it, so you either tell me, or-"

"We can't!" shrieked Parvati.

"Then at least stop being such an arse!" Terry retaliated.

"It's my life!" Harry ranted, pulling at his hair. "No one understands, no one!" The ground seemed to shift beneath their feet, so much so that Parvati screeched and lurched to grab onto his arm.

"You guys felt that, right?" asked Lisa, looking around at the floor as it trembled again. But Hermione was staring at the ceiling again.

"Harry!" she cried out, spinning round to seize his shoulders. "Harry listen to me-!" but with a bellow of outrage he pushed her away.

"How dare you," he fumed. "You're on his side, you don't know, don't care-"

"Harry you have to calm down!" she shouted him down. "Don't you see where we are?" She pointed desperately at the ceiling of the classroom. "The History block is above us, I'm sure of it."

"What the Hell does that matter?" spat Parvati.

"The storm!" retaliated Hermione, pointing out the window as thunder and lightning clashed together. "Harry told me what happened when he crossed over – the Dimensional Hotspot is outside, he lost his temper and a storm came from nowhere – you've got to calm down or who knows what'll happen!"

"You don't tell me what to do!" screamed Harry, and he was ashamed to say he felt the tears on his face. "I'm in control of my life, ME! Not you, not Malfoy, and NOT HIM!"

The stones in the floor and the walls were vibrating, dust was shaking loose from the cracks as the wind howled. Hermione covered her head and pleaded as Lavender clung onto Lisa in fear.

"Calm down! Harry said-"

"Your Harry can go to Hell! This is all his fault, everything, I hate him – I HATE HIM!"

The glass exploded inwards from the windows, showering them in jagged shards. Harry heard people screaming as they fell to the floor, and he screwed up his eyes and tried to shield his face. The wind roared around them, sweeping the glass into a frenzy and slicing at their bare skin.

As soon as it had started, the storm disappeared. Glass tinkled to the floor as the wind stopped, and after a few moments Harry dared to raise his head and open his eyes. The rain clouds were dissipating, the sun tentatively peaking back through once more. Lavender was inspecting Lisa and Hermione, brushing glass off their clothes. Parvati just stared about the room in shock, whilst Terry Boot shook debris from his body like a dog would remove water from its coat. He dropped his hands in his lap and gawped at the shattered window. "Okay," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "What the bloody Hell happened there?"

xxx

After a while Draco thought maybe he should go to the library. Hermione had suggested some books that would help him with their current assignment in Charms, so he bid adieu to the Zabini siblings. But no sooner as he'd set his feet inside the cool walls of the school, they were taking him in a different direction. He hadn't decided if he should be worried about this behaviour yet. True, it had brought him to Hermione last night, but what if it was some kind of curse? What if it was a mild form of an Imperius Curse? He still felt like he had control of his mind though, it was just like his feet kept suggesting it might be a nice idea to go this way.

He wasn't surprised to find himself outside the door of one of the old classrooms again. He'd been here a couple of times. But for the second time in twenty-four hours he was startled to find there was someone waiting for him on the other side.

"Hi," said Sarah Potter brightly but sleepily, as if he'd just woken her up. She yawned and shielded her eyes to look at him from her perch on the large window sill. "How you doing?"

He smiled at her and let the door close. This was the classroom with all the rude words on the blackboard; it obviously hadn't been used in a long time and Dean had told him he'd heard rumours it was cursed. Between his feet and this room Draco was resigned to thinking something was probably afoot, but at that moment he was just happy to see a friendly face.

"Oh look at that grin," the younger girl laughed, rubbing her eyes and tossing back her choppy black hair. Unusually it was all black today, no steaks of colour. "You are in a good mood aren't you." She pulled a face as he leant against the wall by her window, and he tried to frown.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, in mock seriousness, which just made her laugh again.

"Draco and Hermione," she began to sing, "sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-ow!" He whacked her arm in an embarrassed attempt to get her to stop singing.

It felt nice to talk with Sarah again, she'd been a good friend to him at the house the past few months, but with school starting again they'd hardly been able to spend any time together.

"How've you been?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Okay," she said, looking back out the window. Draco waited, not saying anything. "Some people...some of the other kids say stuff sometimes, but there's no point in getting angry is there?"

Draco folded his arms. "What kids," he asked. "What stuff?" She shrugged again, not meeting his eyes. "Sarah-"

"A couple of girls keep making fun of my hair and stuff. They call me bolt girl and do magnetic spells to tug at things whilst we're in class." She ran her tongue bar across her teeth to illustrate the point. She was still staring out the window, hands placed calmly on her lap, but Draco could set she was upset. "And another boy's started telling everyone that we made it all up, what happened in Germany, Harry and I. Even you and Hermione and Parvati...they said we probably killed Seamus, then came up with a stupid story to cover it up."

Draco knew firsthand how ignorant and cruel kids could be, but Sarah Potter had been through more than enough crap without dealing with this nonsense too.

"Give me names," he said calmly, but she still didn't move. He gave her a few minutes before pressing again. "Trust me, just tell me their names and I promise you they'll all have mysterious accidents-"

"NO!" she flared, jolting her body around to face him. She took a few breaths to steady herself. "I can look after myself," she spat.

Draco held up his hands. "Of course you can."

She went back to staring out the window, but Draco had a feeling her eyes weren't really seeing. "Thank you though," she mumbled. Draco shrugged.

"If you were my sister I wouldn't let anyone talk to you like that."

Sarah stiffened. "Harry's got his own issues."

"You can say that again."

"I don't want to talk about him," she said curtly, flicking her short ponytail back again. "So you finally worked up the guts to snog Hermione?"

Draco tried to remain cool. "What do you mean 'finally'," he said, his voice only squeaking slightly.

"Duh," said Sarah, half a smile creeping back onto her face. It vanished again in an instant. "What on Earth is that?" she said, alarmed, looking out the window. Draco had been aware that the light levels had dropped during their conversation, but when he levered himself off the wall and looked outside he was shocked to see that a storm had brewed in what must have only been minutes; rumbling black clouds swirled overhead, and as he and Sarah stared thunder clapped loudly then lightning flickered like a gnarly electric hand, snatching for the trees. Students, including Blaise and Armand were running back to the safely of the school as tumultuous rain began to fall, and the thunder and lightning shook the building again.

"It must be right over the building," said Sarah in awe, eagerly looking out over the horizon.

"Hmm," muttered Draco, and the thunder struck again and the building felt like it actually moved. "I think we should get away from the window," he told Sarah, who pouted.

"Oh it's fine, I bet it's going to be spectacular."

Draco took hold of her arm as the stonework shook again. Something was seriously wrong. "No really, I don't think it's safe."

Something in his tone must have reached Sarah, because the humour instantly dropped from her face and she whipped out her wand. "It's a just a storm," she called out, uncertain as the wind raised to a terrible howl. The upturned chairs stacked around the edges of the classroom began to shift as forceful gusts ripped through the room. Draco's eyes never left the window.

"Let's just go-" he began, but he didn't get a chance to finish. The window shattered and the two of them yelled out as glass rained down on them. They fell to the ground as it rocked, the rain pelting down on them and the thunder crashing above their heads.

Before he even knew what was happening, Draco's world was plunged into darkness, the noise ripped from his ears, the ground pulled from underneath him.

And then there was nothing.