AN/ Hello! I want to say thank you to everyone who is following my fic or has reviewed it! I've got over 300 followers now, the response has blown me away. So thank you, to everyone, for taking the time to read.
Harry's head flopped onto the open book with a soft thunk. His eyes were aching from starting at the lines of black script and his head was aching from the complexity of it all. It was even more tedious than his lessons with Snape had been at the start of last year.
And it's no wonder I didn't understand it then. Snape never mentioned half of this stuff. Harry thought to himself angrily. He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere when he was this tired, Hermione had already given up hours ago. But no matter how sleep deprived he was, the four poster bed in the dorms above didn't seem very inviting. Harry knew he'd just lie there, tossing and turning, as he let his worried thoughts wander back to Draco.
He wished he could send an owl, but Hedwig was sure to be watched and the school owls would probably tattle on him. Hermione didn't have an owl and Ron was unlikely to loan him Pig out of spite. He'd considered called Kreacher to him too, but that seemed unwise. If Dumbledore caught him it would bring up too many awkward questions.
Harry mentally scolded himself and resolutely turned back to the book he'd been studying. Worry would do him no good, if he was going to protect Draco he needed to protect his mind.
It is not so much a matter of emptying one's mind as tidying it. To be a successful Occlumens all thoughts and emotions must be put into their place where they can be stored. This is a useful skill in itself, as should occlumency shields fail the legillimens must still search all compartments of your mind to find what they seek.
Realising he'd already read that paragraph more than once Harry sighed. It had been the most promising book in the library; A beginner's guide to Occlumency, but so far all it had talked about was a load of namby pamby about harnessing ones inner self. It was really starting to sound like a lesson with Trelawney. He could not for the life of him find anything about actual magic in the whole book.
Harry closed the heavy book, sighing once more. He refused to ask Snape for help, that had gone disastrously before. There must be someone else, someone he could trust. Then Harry realised with a pang that his list of people he actually trusted was depressingly short. He wondered idly if Draco had ever been taught, not that he could help given their current predicament.
.
.
Harry was not the only one struggling to keep his mind on task. Draco had been trying to renovate and clean the room he'd claimed as his, to make it a little more inviting. He'd managed to remove most of the hideous paintings from the walls but two had defied all his efforts and sat sneering at him. He'd found some reasonably clean pillow covers to drape over them instead. The long dead flowers which had sat on the window ledge were gone, along with the twee vase they'd sat it. How that had managed to make its way into a Black house was beyond him.
He was halfway through fighting clean bed sheets on, mumbling all the while, when he gave up. Draco was unaccustomed to having to make his own bed, he had no idea how it was actually possible. The sheet was huge and short of crawling inside Draco was at a loss. He needed an extra pair of hands, but he'd tried called kreacher hours ago and he'd never materialised. Lousy house elf. He thought how his father would have forced clothes onto him by now, but thinking of his father made Draco feel more than a little queasy. Draco tried to think of something happier, and failing that decided to pounder the mystery of Harry Potter instead.
He landed with a flop on the half made bed, enthusiasm for improving his room waning rapidly. He wondered how Harry had gotten hold of this house. Draco knew of course that Sirius Black had been his Godfather, but Harry was not truly of Black blood. The ancient magic of the house should have ensured it went to the next living relative.
The state of the house was also a puzzlement. It seemed as though whomever had been living here had packed up pretty quick and left, and that there had been quite a few of them. Why did they leave in a hurry? Was the house not really safe at all? No, Harry would not have sent him here if it were dangerous. The only thing likely to kill him was that poor excuse of a house elf's cooking.
He yearned to see Harry. It had only been a day since he'd left but so much had happened. He wanted to tell Harry all that had happened. Last time he kept quiet it had nearly ended disastrously, and though he knew this was wildly different, that the danger had passed, his desire to talk about it wasn't waning.
Draco's stomach rumbled. Since the heel of half mouldy bread last night he'd not eaten. He was starting to miss the food bought to him by Dobby, even if the house elf cowered and glared the whole time. Pancakes. What he wouldn't give for some proper pancakes, smothered in fresh lemon.
He pushed his hopes to the back of his mind and stood up resignedly. He'd settle for something which wasn't stale or mouldy in all honesty.
.
.
"It's just the Italians, Aleksa, zey vill be a push over." Krum tried not to show his annoyance as he carefully tuned out the antics of the rest of the team. Sure the Italian's had been having a bad season, but that was no reason to take a win for granted.
He flexed his arms and back, wincing slightly. He'd pushed it that night, flying from Scotland to London. It was no surprise he was more than a little sore. Still, he'd been lucky to make it out unscathed. Viktor was no fool – he knew he'd had a brush with death. He longed to see Hermione, to hold her in his arms so he could make sure that everything really was alright. But he knew that was no longer an option, not while she was in Hogwarts. Dumbledore wouldn't let him past the front gates.
For now, they would have to content themselves with a letter every other day.
"Hey, Dmitri, have you seen this?" Krum pulled himself out of this thoughts to see their keeper, Aleksa, waving a copy of the International Prophet. He glimpsed a photo of a town on the front, smoke rising in billowing plumes.
"Zat English Madman has wiped a whole muggle town of ze map! And the stupid Muggles, zey are blaming the Russians for terrorism or some such thing! Ha! Like zey would be bothered." Dmitri snatched the paper away.
"Vell," He said slowly "He may be a madman but at least he gets things done. If only our stupid minister vould take a leaf out of his book, maybe zen ve vould not have to hide like criminals from ze vorld." Krum looked over at his team mate eyes wide. He looked at the others, they wore varying looks of disinterest, excitement, even approval. None of them looked disgusted, or horrified, or angry. None of the emotions he was feeling coursing through himself.
"You alright, Vicky? You look a little pale." Viktor slowly clenched and unclenched his fists.
"Fine." He said curtly. "Let's just get out zere and play some qvidditch." If the rest of the team thought anything more to their captains odd behaviour they did not mention it. They filed out on to the rain hazed pitch, ears ringing with applause.
.
.
Harry rushed out of bed the next morning. He'd overslept and missed breakfast, but what really got him moving was the threat of Snape first lesson. He took most of the corridors at a run, ignoring the yells of the portraits scolding him.
When he saw that the class were still milling around in the corridor he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He had a feeling this day would be particularly long even without giving Snape an excuse to worsen it. Neville motioned him over. Harry joined him, trying to catch his breath.
"Here." Neville passed him a triangle of toast then dug into his pockets. "Noticed you weren't at breakfast. I was getting worried I'd have to stick that toast in my pocket and sit on it all lesson! Oh and here." Holding out his hand, Neville dropped five large gold coins into Harry's hand. His eyebrows knitted in confusion as he tried to give them back. Neville refused.
"No, it's yours. Dean took you up on your bet over the chess tourney, and well, I won." Neville blushed, looking sheepish. Harry clapped Neville on the back and opened his mouth to congratulate his friend when the remainder of his toast burst into flames.
"You will do well to finish your breakfast before my lesson Mr Potter. 5 Points from Gryffindor." Harry scowled at Snape, who had just rounded the corner. "And another 5 for your impertinence. You are attending a lesson, not a slumber party. Shirt in, tie straight." Harry looked around at his fellow classmates, most of whom had loosened ties. Typical of Snape to pick on only him.
Not wanting to cause even more of a scene he tucked his shirt in, even running his fingers through his hair for good measure. For a moment he could have sworn that Snape had actually smirked.
Most of the lesson then passed with tedious work, they weren't even doing practical today, only theory. Harry was unsurprised that by the end his mind was beginning to wander.
Think about Draco. Think about where he is.
Draco probably wouldn't have minded the lesson. Much as it used to irk Harry, Draco was naturally very good at potions. He just got it, like there was some logic only he could understand.
Think about where Draco is.
Harry wished Draco were here. Maybe he'd be able to explain what the hell a fangtooth fish was used for. He wondered what Draco was doing to fill his time. Maybe he'd found a potions kit.
Where is Draco!
The image of Grimmauld Place filled his mind as he came to with a start. Harry's mind was wrenched into the present, to where Snape stood frowning slightly and staring right at him. But the damage was done. Snape would have recognised the building's façade at once.
Harry tried madly to think about what that book had said. He tried to sort his thoughts, to put things away. But he knew it was too late.
Why couldn't Snape keep his nose out of it?! If he really wanted Draco safe like he claimed then he should have stayed the hell out of Harry's head. Sudden anger flowed through him. He wanted to throw something at him. He wanted to yell that he had no right to invade his mind like that.
You think rights have anything to do with this Potter? You were too easy Potter. I just waltzed right into that empty head of yours. Easy. Just like your mother.
GET OUT!
Snape took a sudden step back, his hand out to catch him. It looked as though he'd just lost his balance but he was staring right at Harry. The faintest glimmer of a smile was on his lips.
How else do you think your father got with her? After all, he was just a reckless, good-for-nothing fool. Do you think she had to share him with Black? I did always wonder, those two were so close.
Harry's vision turned red and he felt red hot anger burning through him. Snape's voice was silken in his mind, whispering away.
Does that class as bestiality I wonder?
Bam! Snape was knocked off his feet as half the desks in the room went flying. Harry was on his feet, fists clenched, waiting for Snape's next words so that he could hit him back harder. But they didn't come. A smile crossed Snape's lips so quickly Harry would have missed it had he not been glaring at the man.
"A week's worth of detentions for disrupting my class Potter. Now get out, before you recklessly kill someone. Out!" Harry didn't wait to be told again. He stormed from the class, barely noticing how people shied away from him. Even Hermione flinched as he passed, magic crackling around him.