Harry kept his head high as he walked through the halls the next day, trying not to think about how the whole Slytherin house had seen him naked. He'd gotten the writing off his face eventually, with the help of a scourgify charm that left his forehead raw. He hadn't gotten it all off the rest of him, though. Under his shirt, it still said, Ream my virgin arse, across his chest, though the ink was now at least faded a little.

Crabbe had returned Harry's shoes at breakfast. Harry wished desperately Crabbe had picked a more discreet time but muttered his thanks.

A seventh year Gryffindor snorted and said, "So, Potter's leaving his clothes in the Slytherin common room now?"

Harry had lost his appetite, but forced down some eggs rather than slinking off like a coward. Thankfully, not many of his classmates were down yet, so he didn't have to deal with Ron and Hermione seeing any of it.

On his way back to the common room, he rounded the corner to find a group in green and silver ties and his footsteps slowed. Seventh years, he thought. He hadn't been wary of Slytherins in so long, but now…

They looked up like a pack of wolves.

Harry avoided eye contact, kept his gaze firmly ahead.

"Hey Potter, we're having a debate," called Flora Carrow. "Flint here thinks Malfoy never got past your little chastity belt and we're the first who got the honor of seeing what's underneath those robes. I think Malfoy fucked you six ways from Sunday and you begged him for it every single detention so we only got a washed-up show. Care to settle it?"

Harry set his jaw and kept walking.

This time, the tripping jinx didn't get a chance to hit him. His shield was up, followed by a quick counter-hex. It hit Flint, who shrieked and demanded the others tell him what had happened to his nose.

"Enjoy your pig snout," Harry called over his shoulder.

Two halls later, some Ravenclaws were gossiping loudly before they saw him.

"Yeah, seriously! Hadn't even kissed anyone! Until Malfoy taught him a thing or two in detention."

"Okay, where do I sign up for that detention?"

They all giggled.

"And Zabini told me he's got pictures from the quidditch pitch thin—"

"AHEM AHEM AHEM."

They all looked over to where Harry had frozen in the hallway, trying to remember to breathe. Pictures?

They were going to be in Witch Weekly. There was no way the Slytherins wouldn't send those in.

He realized he was shaking and darted down the hall to the nearest bathroom. He locked himself into a stall and sat on the closed toilet, scrubbing his hands over his face.

It was going to be okay. He'd made it through the Potter Stinks days, hadn't he?

This was worse, though. This was a lot worse.

And he was completely alone.

#

Hating that he had to do it, Harry waited outside of Potions on Monday after class. As soon as the group of Slytherins came out, Harry stepped out of the shadows. "Draco."

Draco's eyes went wide and hopeful. He immediately held back from the group.

Blaise passed by with Daphne Greengrass. "See," Blaise said to her loudly, "Potter's panting for it."

Draco whirled around, wand raised and started blurting out the stinging hex, but Harry pushed his wand down. "Leave it."

Draco nodded to his friends and they went on without him. He turned to Harry, pushing a hand through his immaculate hair and messing it up. "Are you okay? I heard some Slytherins attacked you in the hall. Who was it? What did they do?"

"I can handle a few Slytherins." The words snapped Harry back to the abandoned classroom, laughing with Draco, kissing and joking and being so damn happy.

He shoved the memory away.

He glanced around to make sure they were alone. His voice shook. "The Ravenclaws, they say Blaise has pictures of…of me from Saturday night." He couldn't go on. He couldn't ask Draco, beg him, to help him.

But Draco's eyes narrowed immediately. "What?" His voice was dangerous. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the common room. "I'll go right now. If it's true, I'll make sure they're destroyed. I'll burn the dorm room down if I have to."

Harry nodded sharply. He didn't know if it was really possible for Draco to get his hands on all the evidence, but what else could he do? Theo was nice, but when Harry had told him about the pictures, he'd had just sympathetically patted Harry's shoulder and called Blaise a wanker.

"There's something else. I…I need to know. I can't remember a lot. I remember kissing someone and Theo says it wasn't him. He didn't see who it was."

Draco's face tightened. He cleared his throat. "Blaise."

The heel of Harry's palm pressed to his forehead. Blaise's face swam into view. "Oh god." He forced his eyes to meet Draco's, feeling like he was going to sick up all over. "There are these flashes of the stairs. I think I was going up to someone's bedroom. Was it with you?" He tried to keep his voice cool, but it sounded pleading. Draco hadn't even allowed Harry to kiss him last time he'd been drinking. If he'd gone up with Draco, it would have been to just put him somewhere safe.

Draco grabbed his hand and squeezed. His expression was serious. "Nothing happened. I got there fast. You were passed out cold and Blaise came up with his prank idea. I checked on you to make sure you were okay."

Harry felt like he was going to choke. "I went upstairs with Blaise?"

"He wasn't in there more than maybe a minute with you and he was already coming back out when I got there. If there had been any sign of…of anything, I swear I would have permanently maimed him."

Harry stared at the stone wall, feeling like he was drowning.

He realized Draco was still holding his hand. He tugged it away. "'Kay."

He started unsteadily away.

"Wait, Potter. Don't go. Come to the Room of Requirement with me, please. Not for—just to talk. We'll skip class, I don't care…"

But Harry kept walking.

#

Rumors about Saturday whipped around the school. At first, they at least seemed grounded in some reality.

He was passing by a group of Hufflepuffs and Justin Finch-Fletchley had called, "Hey Potter, was the strip show just for the Slytherins or can we get a repeat performance for Hufflepuff?"

Harry had whirled on his heel and marched straight up to Justin, wand out. Justin's eyes had widened and he'd shrunk about a foot, his friends backing away.

Harry pointed his wand right under Justin's chin. "I'm sorry, I missed your question. Could you repeat it?"

Justin had squeaked and stammered an apology before running off with his mates.

But of course, it got worse from there. Maybe it was Crabbe returning his shoes at breakfast or people talking about Harry following Blaise up to the sixth-year dorm, but soon people were talking about him like he'd been sleeping his way around Slytherin house. And they definitely weren't patting him on the back for it.

He and Cormac McLaggen had both ended up in the hospital wing after exchanging hexes and then blows after McLaggen had loudly said to his friends, "What are Slytherins' three favorite things to pass around at a party? Champagne, sexually transmitted diseases, and Harry Potter."

Theo tried walking with Harry between classes. At first, it helped. When a fourth-year Gryffindor sneered, "Slag," at Harry, Theo grinned at them with a cheery, "Thank you! I do try to get around." The fourth-year blinked in confusion and Harry had almost been able to laugh.

But when another Weasley's Wizard Wheezes green glitter bomb had exploded over them, Theo wasn't happy at all when Harry broke it to him that the green glitter wasn't going away for twenty-four hours.

Theo had been keeping a bit more distance since.

After days of it, Harry felt his spirit flagging. He ate in the kitchens and hid out in the library when he could, peering around first to make sure Hermione wasn't there.

He considered hiding out in the Room of Requirement, but what if Draco had taken it over as an actual sex room? If Harry walked in on Draco with someone who let him do what he wanted, Harry thought he might lose his grip on the tiniest bit of sanity he was holding on to.

Ravenclaw was the only house that wasn't too bad about it. If Slytherins ever hooked up with people outside their own house, it was always with Ravenclaws, so Harry supposed they didn't see it as some huge betrayal. The Ravenclaws did seem to like the gossip of it, though. They often stopped whispering when he walked by and started giggling or grinning instead.

He just prayed they weren't giggling because they'd seen pictures from that night.

Harry was on his way to Care of Magical Creatures when Draco tugged him into an alcove.

"I found the photos. They're gone now."

Harry swallowed. "Are you sure?"

Draco nodded. "I tore apart everything Blaise owned. Literally. He had some copies hidden in a textbook, but I got those too. I burned them all. I burned every photo he had, whether it was of you or not. I didn't look, not more than I had to."

"Thanks," Harry said quietly.

For the first time, he noticed something seemed a bit off about Draco, like behind his attempts to look perfect, something seemed as worn as Harry felt.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Draco startled. "Me? Yes, of course."

But he didn't seem at ease when he said it. He tensed every time someone walked by.

Harry almost pushed, but their fight played back in his head and he pulled back. He gave a stiff nod and started out of the alcove, but Draco caught his arm. The expression on his face was agonized. "Wait. Should I tell people we didn't do anything more than snogging?"

Harry turned and blinked. "What?"

Draco's jaw clenched. "They're saying some vulgar things. About—"

"I know what they're saying," Harry cut him off sharply. The rumors had gotten wilder. Most were about things he supposedly did with Draco. Some, about things he supposedly did with Blaise. At one point, he'd heard the tail end of something involving him with the whole sixth year Slytherin boys' dorm.

Lowering his voice, Draco said, "I promised I wouldn't talk about us to anyone, so I haven't, but I could set the record straight."

"No," Harry said quickly. "The only thing I have right now is knowing that what people are saying isn't true."

Draco hesitated. "I wouldn't give details. I could just tell them you didn't—"

"You said it was between you and me."

"But it doesn't seem right, sitting by while they say—"

"You promised," Harry blurted desperately. He forced himself to pull himself together, saying more calmly. "You promised."

Draco deflated. "You and me and no one else."

For a moment, their eyes met with such intensity, Harry almost felt like it was just the two of them in the Room of Requirement again. He wanted to grab onto Draco and hold on like Draco could keep him from drowning.

Harry forced himself to walk away. Alone.

#

Pansy marched Draco into the hospital wing by the sleeve, Crabbe and Goyle right behind. "Madam Pomfrey? I have a stubborn, prideful man-child here who needs assistance."

Draco scowled at her, cradling his hand.

Madam Pomfrey came bustling around and grabbed up his hand. Draco hissed as she prodded at it. "Broken. Was this responsible for Mr. Zabini's nose then?" she asked with disapproval.

"Yes ma'am," Draco grumbled. He'd avoided the hospital wing for most of the day. If he'd watched Blaise getting healed, he wasn't sure he could have resisted the urge to break his nose all over again.

Pansy kissed his cheek. "Do not leave here without us. If the study group runs late, I'll send Crabbe back to walk with you." She whirled off to her study group while Madam Pomfrey bustled Draco over to a bed.

That's when Draco noticed a shock of ginger hair and nearly groaned aloud. Weasley glared at him from the next bed over. The left side of his jaw was swollen and purple.

Pomfrey gave Draco a potion, wrapped up his hand, and then ordered him onto the bed. "It will take a few hours to heal."

"Can't I go and let it heal while I do my homework?" Draco obviously wasn't going to do his homework with a broken hand, but he sure as hell didn't want to spend hours next to Weasley.

"You can sit in that bed and reflect on your actions while your bones mend." Pomfrey headed off to the back in a huff.

Fantastic.

Weasley was shooting him deadly looks, but his gaze also kept darting to Draco's hand.

Finally, Draco let out a heavy sigh. "Did you want to ask something, Weasley?"

Weasley turned his head away and crossed his arms.

"Fine with me."

A few minutes later, Weasley broke. "I saw Zabini earlier. Face looked like ground beef. What'd he do? Insult your pride or something?"

"Or something." Draco almost started shaking again thinking about it. He'd walked into the common room to overhear Blaise talking with the Carrow twins and Adrien Pucey, implying a lot more happened when he'd gotten Harry up to his bed.

Draco hadn't even gotten his wand out. He'd broken Blaise's nose and kept punching and punching until he was wrenched off. He'd had to be held back while the Carrows escorted Blaise out of the portal, face covered in blood.

Of course, it had been the exact wrong move and he hadn't need Pansy to lecture him all the way up to the Hospital Wing to know it.

You're letting everyone know that the way to get to you is through Potter. What do you think that's going to prompt them to do?

And Draco didn't need to let people know how to get to him.

Letting Harry down from the goalpost hadn't gone over well for some in Slytherin. Not just in a taunting, Draco Malfoy's caught feelings for the Golden Boy, way.

Flora Carrow had whispered in his ear, "The Dark Lord was very interested to hear about your new allegiances. Your parents are out of reach, but here you are, sitting right out in the open, where anyone could just slip something into your drink or pull back your curtains while you sleep. Better be careful."

As she'd walked away, Draco had felt himself barely able to breathe.

His parents wanted him to come home, but Draco couldn't imagine hiding away in a house with just his parents for, what, the rest of his life?

He'd gone to the Room of Requirement to practice defense, but the stress somehow made him worse. He'd almost, almost followed Crabbe to his tutoring to ask Harry to help him, but, couldn't bring himself to do it. Harry had every reason to tell him to go get poisoned by the Carrows.

So he'd been trying to do what Pansy advised and keep his head down.

But then he'd overheard Blaise and he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd broken away from Goyle, who'd assigned himself Draco's bodyguard for the morning, and lunged right past the Carrows at Blaise. It had felt extraordinary to feel his nose crunch beneath his fist.

He wasn't about to explain all of that to the Weasel, though.

"And what's to thank for your presence here?"

Weasley scowled, then winced, fingers going to his jaw. "Cormac McLaggen was running his mouth about Harry. Thinks he's a bloody comedian."

Weasley nodded toward the back corner bed where McLaggen was half-hidden behind a book, eye a puffy purple and—Draco did a double take—no mouth. Just a smooth stretch of skin from nose to chin. He was almost impressed.

"So you and Potter have made up I take it?"

Weasley's voice was acidic. "No. Thanks to you, we're not speaking."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "So behind his back, you'll fight for his honor, but you're still punishing him through the silent treatment?"

Weasley crossed his arms. "Guess so."

Draco couldn't believe Gryffindors were so bloody stupid. "Have you ever thought that maybe Potter actually needs you talking to him more than he needs you cursing people behind his back? Aren't you supposed to be his friend or something?"

Weasley's jaw worked. "He's supposed to be my friend too, you know! When people talk crap about him, I curse their mouths off. When people talk crap about me, he bloody hooks up with them!"

Draco groaned. "Weasley, I haven't insulted you since we were fourteen. And if you'd recall, you weren't exactly all sugar and spice to me either. We were kids and I, for one, have grown and matured. Get over it. Make up with Potter."

"Glad to once he apologizes."

"Hm. It all makes sense now."

Weasley shot him a glare. "What makes sense?"

Draco examined the nails on his unbroken hand. "I thought it was strange that Potter was willing to come to a Slytherin party and meet all my friends without flinching, but was afraid of telling you about us. Now, that I see you'd abandon him right when he's at his lowest, it makes sense."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Ron growled. After a moment, he added. "Harry's not at his lowest. It's just McLaggen. He's always an arse."

Draco stared. "You really think it's only McLaggen?"

Weasley blinked at him. Merlin, the imbecile was really that blind.

"I suppose Gryffindor isn't the house that represents loyalty, but damn, Weasley. Potter was really scraping the bottom of the friendship barrel if this was the best he could get for himself."

Weasley's face twisted with rage. "He's the one letting you talk about me like that!"

"Oh yes, Weasley, Potter and I absolutely love to sit together and make fun of you. All we care to discuss is your many faults," Draco drawled.

"Shut it, Malfoy. You're the one who ruined everything."

Draco stared at his curtains, not wanting to talk anymore.

Because, yes, he was the one who ruined everything.

"Madam Pomfrey," called Professor Sinestra from the doorway. "I hope you have some beds free."

A stream of four Gryffindors—Draco guessed they were fifth years—trailed in, sniffling as they tried to cover their faces. They were covered in angry-looking boils.

Madam Pomfrey bustled out from the back, throwing her hands in the air at the sight of them. "Now who's responsible for this mess?"

One of them dropped his hands with an angry pout. "Ginny Weasley! The joke wasn't even about her."

"I told you not to mention Potter in front of her," muttered another.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head as though exasperated, but Draco swore when she turned to usher them to beds, a satisfied smirk flashed across her face.

#

It was Friday, on Harry's way to class, when it finally happened. A bunch of Ravenclaws were huddled together and, when Harry passed and they turned to look at him, he saw it in their hands. Witch Weekly.

He froze, eyes on the magazine. And from the way Mandy Brocklehurst hid it abruptly behind her back with wide eyes, Harry knew. There was an article about him.

He could hear his own heart thudding in his ears.

He marched right over and stuck his hand out. "Give it to me."

"No way, it's mine."

Harry pulled out his wand and summoned the damn thing, ignoring her, "Hey!" He snatched it out of the air. The cover had a big picture of him and thank god it wasn't from that night. It was his picture from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, looking terribly uncomfortable and overwhelmed. But the words stretching across the top of it were, Boy Who Lived Gone Wild?

He ran into a loo and locked himself in a stall. Sitting on the closed toilet seat, he pulled his feet up so nobody would be able to spot him if they came in.

His eyes went straight to the pictures first. There wasn't one of him at the quidditch pitch. There was one of him looking sweaty and rumpled—must have been after a quidditch practice rather than a game because he wasn't in full uniform—and an old one taken from very far away of he and Draco apparently exchanging insults in the middle of Hogsmeade—had to be from year four or five.

The relief that hit him was short-lived, though.

Harry Potter—bad boy after all?

Hero. Protector. Role model for young wizards everywhere. Ever since the public return of You Know Who at the Ministry of Magic earlier this year, Harry Potter has been regarded as a misunderstood beacon of truth. But with his latest escapades, the image of our boy with the lightning bolt scar is being upended once again.

It seems to have all begun earlier this year when Potter started a brawl in a Potions classroom that led to several injuries. He was nearly expelled, but out of mercy, was instead given a semester of detention with Slytherin and son of former Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy.

From what our sources have told us, the boys used their time in detention to do anything but cleaning cauldrons, if you catch our meaning. While it's concerning that Hogwarts' staff can't seem to reel in Potter's extreme behavior, at least we have an answer to whether the lads out there have a chance with the boy hero…or should we change that to wild child!

Potter was then spied at two Slytherin parties.

"One minute, he was with Malfoy, then he was at the drinks table all over Blaise Zabini. And then, out of nowhere, he hexed Blaise and went back to Draco! You never know when he's going to get drunk and stumble up to someone's room. I'm all for having your fun, but it's a little much, even for Slytherin house."

Harry felt bile rising in his throat and swallowed it hard. Flashes of memory hit him. Kissing Blaise. The blurry staircase.

And if you young witches out there ever stared at your own poster of our Boy Who Lived and imagined what was under those robes, apparently much of Hogwarts doesn't have to wonder.

"Oh yeah, a lot of us have seen him without his clothes," said a source. "And I mean any of his clothes."

Now that certainly tickles our imaginations over at Witch Weekly! We'll be hunting for more details, readers. In the meantime, write in with your thoughts. Bad boy Harry Potter—a sexy new fantasy for our teen readers or a tragic embarrassment to Britain?

There was a small note at the bottom. Witch Weekly attempted to reach Draco Malfoy for comment, but was, rather rudely, denied a statement.

Harry dropped the magazine to the floor and hugged his knees. He didn't know how long he stayed there, staring at nothing, replaying lines in his head.

Mrs. Weasley subscribed to Witch Weekly.

Mrs. Weasley subscribed to Witch Weekly.

He missed Herbology and it was halfway through Potions when he finally stumbled through the empty halls up to his bed. He spelled the curtains shut and warded them to keep sound out.

The sky outside had gone dark when someone pulled back the curtains behind him. They must've gotten through his wards. Harry was curled up on top of his bedcovers and didn't bother turning to see who it was. He already knew.

"Harry?"

"Go away, Hermione." His voice was deadened.

"You skipped classes. And dinner. I know there's an article out, but I told everyone they shouldn't read it."

Who cared what Hermione told people? They were going to read it. And if Witch Weekly was digging, there were far juicier rumors that could be printed next week. Even aside from what was going on with Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't want Harry in their house after reading these articles.

He shut his eyes tightly.

"Ginny says you've had a difficult week and I…I wanted to see if you were okay."

"Go away."

He could practically hear Hermione ringing her hands. "I don't want things to be like this between us anymore. You've broken up with him and I've told Ron that we should take that as you understanding our point and—"

Harry did sit up then, staring at Hermione incredulously. "I didn't break up with him because you and Ron were arseholes about it."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "He used to call me a mudblood, Harry. Don't you remember what he said about Ron's family?"

"You never gave me a single chance to explain. You just walked away."

Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't see what explanation could possibly justify it."

Harry glared at her. "Well, I guess now you'll never find out."

With a huff, Hermione said, "Fine. I hope you're enjoying your new friends in Slytherin!"

The room went silent again and Harry thought she probably put his wards back up.

#

The next morning, it was a Hogsmeade day. Harry had no one to go with, but he needed to get out of the castle or he'd finally crack. He didn't care if he had to spend the whole time hiding out at the Shrieking Shack.

He headed down to the common room with his cloak on, but halted when he found Ron and Hermione getting ready to leave themselves.

Hermione's chin wobbled when she saw him. Ron took one look at Harry and threw off his cloak. "On second thought, I'm staying in," he announced.

Everyone in the common room went silent, watching. Harry spotted a copy of Witch Weekly on the coffee table where a bunch of seventh years were sitting.

Harry ducked his head and hurried toward the door.

"Wait, Harry, we're coming with you."

Harry blinked in surprise. Dean and Ginny strode across the common room toward him.

Behind them, Neville and Seamus sat together in a corner. Seamus gave Harry a small wave. Neville didn't look up at all.

"What's going on?" he asked uncertainly.

Ginny hooked her arm through Harry's and walked them both to the exit. "Neville and I are in a row." She raised her voice and turned to project over her shoulder. "The whole lot of them are being horrendous prats."

Out in the hall, Harry looked from Dean to the portrait, bewildered. "You're not going with Seamus?"

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Nah. Seamus is in the doghouse right now, mate. I told him to leave you alone about seeing someone over and over and he didn't listen."

As the three of them headed down the moving staircase, Harry regarded Dean suspiciously. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Dean's jaw set. "You remember when I started dating Seamus? Everyone told me it wouldn't be a big deal, me being gay, but I didn't believe it. Kids had started calling me a fag right before I got my letter for Hogwarts. You didn't believe everything would be fine either. You walked in front of us for a week with your wand at the ready, ready to hex the balls off of anyone who gave us so much as a nasty glance. It took you and I both about a week to unclench on that one."

Harry remembered. "Seamus thought I was barmy. I felt like a bit of an idiot at the end of it when I finally realized nobody cared."

Dean looked really serious. "I never forgot it. Seamus doesn't understand what it's like to be terrified of people finding out who you're attracted to. And the shit I've heard you've had to deal with this week…I'm sorry I didn't get by your side sooner. I was a coward. All the old fears… I'm really sorry, Harry."

"I tried to find you, but you've been bloody hard to catch," said Ginny. "Now, though, we're going to Hogsmeade together and if anyone glitter bombs us, I'll wear my sparkles proudly. I've told Fred and George they better not sell any more of those things to Hogwarts students today or I'm going to hang them by their ears."

Harry's throat stung. He was scared what would happen if he tried to speak so he just nodded.

Ginny threw her arms around him and for a dangerous moment, Harry thought he might cry into her robes, but he managed to hold himself together. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us, you prat. Come on. Let's go have a good time," said Ginny.

It was the first time in a week Harry had been able to relax even the tiniest bit. It was odd hanging out with Dean and Ginny, but fun. As they walked the cobblestone streets, weaving in and out of shops, Dean and Harry tried to explain soccer to Ginny and Ginny made them laugh with her suggested improvements to the game.

"To make it harder, people should have to hop. Or they should at least have a ball that tries to get away from them."

They started into Honeydukes, but all froze when they spotted Draco and his friends in the aisles.

"On second thought, how about the Three Broomsticks?" Dean said in a too-cheery voice.

The second Draco spotted Harry, he shoved his way through the crowd. "Potter. Wait."

The door jangled as Harry pushed out of the store as fast as he could, but Draco caught up to him and grabbed Harry's arm. "My mother's written to the Witch Weekly editor threatening them about writing anything else about you. Pansy's asking her mother to do the same. I don't know if it will help. I wanted to blackmail the editor, but mother thought it might make things worse."

Harry rubbed his nose. "I can't believe I have to say this, but don't blackmail anyone. That is the last thing I bloody need."

Draco shook his head angrily. "I didn't think they'd go this far. What can I do to help? Anything."

Harry ground his teeth. "Right. Anything. As long as it's nothing that hurts your reputation, right?" He wanted to explode at Draco, but Dean and Ginny were watching with uncomfortable expressions. "Look, it's not your problem, it's mine. Leave it alone."

Before Draco could reply, he stalked off toward the Three Broomsticks. Dean and Ginny had to scramble to catch up.

Ginny caught his arm again. "Hey. Hey are you okay?"

Harry nodded tightly.

They walked in silence for a minute, the other two sharing glances and Harry knew they were trying to figure out what they should or shouldn't say.

With the shop in the distance, Harry's shoulders untensed a little. He was just so tired.

Ginny cleared her throat. "It seems like he cares about you."

"Yeah, I thought so too at one point."

Dean eyed Harry. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright, no problem, mate. How about a hot butter—"

The sound of a small explosion came from further up the road stopped them in their tracks.

Screams came from up ahead. People ran down the street toward them.

Dean and Ginny edged toward Harry.

"What's going on?" Dean asked in alarm.

"Death Eaters!" a little Hufflepuff screamed as she bolted toward the castle.

People fled into shops, out of shops. A blast of red light fired from around the bend in the road and a shopkeeper hit the ground, screaming and twitching.

"Come on!" Ginny hissed. They darted into an alleyway and hid behind a stray cart filled with crates of vegetables.

Harry peered out, scanning the street anxiously. "There are students everywhere, they won't make it back to Hogwarts."

A group of masked figures came into view. One pointed. "There! The Padgett girl. Her mother's on the Dark Lord's list of traitors. You, find the others. Montague. Parkinson. Malfoy. Take them alive or the Dark Lord will have your head. Kill any muggleborns you wish along the way." The group split.

Harry's lungs froze. Draco. They were going after Draco.