Oh, hell, I've written Harry Potter slash fanfic - part 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & sidekicks are owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is slash. I actually wrote slash. I'm still recovering.
Harry/Draco with some Ron/Hermione hints



Perspective
part 1


Harry Potter spent far too much time thinking about Draco Malfoy.

He shouldn't. Hermione told him this daily. He should just ignore Malfoy. He should be above the taunts and insults. And he should be concentrating on what is truly important: Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the Dementors.

But he didn't know what to do with any of that. The missing Dementors hadn't been seen. The imprisoned Death Eaters had not broken out. The other Death Eaters hadn't made any moves. His scar hadn't bothered him since the summer and there was no sign of Voldemort.

Harry wished they would start so it would all be over. Yet he dreaded it all the same. He knew that once Voldemort started a real war, he would have to be involved. It was destined. He would have to kill Voldemort himself. Or be killed--which seemed far more likely. He didn't know if he could face this battle. He didn't know how to prepare. When he thought of Voldemort, he felt small and afraid.

But thinking of Malfoy didn't make him feel small and afraid. Malfoy made him angry. When he thought of Malfoy his other worries were burned to nothing. He cherished that anger. Malfoy had been particularly obnoxious lately and Harry felt almost grateful for the distraction. Whenever he needed it Malfoy was there, lighting fires in his head and eradicating all thought.

As he tried to get to sleep he thought over the past week's incidents. Malfoy had picked a fight and then blamed it on Harry. He'd told Filch that Harry had been hanging around the boy's lavatory before the toilet overflowed. That one probably hadn't even been anybody's hex, but Filch followed him around for days just the same. Sometimes Harry thought over his whole history with Malfoy. He raged as he remembered Malfoy's stint on the Inquisitional Squad. How Malfoy sucked up to Umbridge and gloated with his idiot power. He thought about how he tried to get Hagrid fired and how he fed all manner of nonsense to Rita Skeeter. He always ended up in the middle of things. Whatever happened to Harry, Malfoy would try to get involved and make it worse.

Harry stretched in bed and luxuriated in lining up these memories next to each other. Malfoy would say anything, tell any lie. It was like he had no pride at all despite his arrogance. He never had a clue what was really going on. All those people, Umbridge, Skeeter, they took advantage of his being an idiot prat. Malfoy always tried to grab power and come out on top but he always screwed it up. He thought he was priviledged but he was just an ignorant spoiled brat and whenever he came across anything real, he ran away like a little baby.

Harry imagined Malfoy as a baby, sitting on the floor in Dudley's frilly baby clothes and pounding a wand in a temper tantrum. That pinched little face would be howling petulantly while little sparks flew out of the tip of the wand. He stifled a giggle and rolled over. He should try to get some sleep.

*

Snape, for reasons known only to Snape, had paired Harry with Malfoy in potions class. He didn't do this frequently--probably because Malfoy didn't like it any better than Harry did.

Harry didn't pay much attention to him. He was taking this time to watch Ron and Hermione. They had been spending more and more time together and were bickering in a way that Harry found somehow sweet. It seemed that they were finally sorting out what they thought of each other. It was the one true bright spot in Harry's life and he liked to watch it. He let Malfoy mix the potion.

Yet Malfoy's presence dragged at his attention. Eventually he had to turn back. He looked over Malfoy's project and then his brow furrowed in confusion. Malfoy wasn't doing the assignment. He seemed to be mixing things at random or else performing an experiment of his own. Harry looked over the bottles and jar as he tried to figure out what Malfoy was doing. He got it right as Malfoy was pouring the last ingredient.

"Don't--" he yelled, but his voice was lost in the explosion.

When the smoke cleared Harry saw that the beaker Malfoy had been using was completely gone. A gray residue covered the table, the ceiling, one wall, and several students. A very angry Snape was staring down at them.

"Potter was experimenting," Malfoy said, trying to sound simultaneously innocent and scornful and somehow managing. "I told him not to."

Snape turned to Harry. Harry thought he saw his eyes flick to the jar containing that last ingredient, which was on the table near Malfoy's right hand and nowhere near Harry. But he wasn't sure. Snape smiled down at Harry.

"Perhaps he did not know what he was doing. We all know what a poor student he is," Snape said. Malfoy snickered.

Did Snape just insult Malfoy? Harry was suddenly surprised by this thought. He was pretty sure Snape had glanced at that jar.

"For your carelessness, ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "You will remain after class and clean this entire room."

It wouldn't surprise Harry that Snape would go along just to punish him; he always did things like that. And probably he was just calling Harry a poor student because he always did that. Still, Snape just insulted Malfoy and neither of them seemed to notice. Harry stifled a grin.

"Are you having a problem, Potter?" asked Snape. "Did the explosion addle your brains?"

Harry blinked. "Um. No. Clean the lab. Right," he said. But he was still stifling a manic grin.

Snape paused briefly. "The entire lab," he repeated.

"Right," said Harry.

Snape paused again, looking at Harry. Then he turned and addressed the class. "Time is up. Turn in your potions." He glanced around. "Anyone with residue in their work should mark his or her bottle. It probably won't make any difference but if it does, you will be given an opportunity to repeat the lesson. Potter, you get a zero. Malfoy, you will repeat the lesson later. Class dismissed."

Ron and Hermione came over. "Damn Malfoy," Ron muttered.

"Harry, I'd stay to help but I have arithmancy class now," said Hermione.

"Thanks," said Harry.

Ron looked stricken. "I was supposed to meet Jonathan for Quidditch drills," he said. "But I could stay," he added reluctantly.

"No, go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Harry watched them go. He smiled when they accidentally bumped into each other and jumped apart. He was still smiling as he started to wipe down the tables.

*

After two hours of cleaning, he was no longer smiling. After a full half-hour of scrubbing the ceiling, his anger had rekindled. This was exactly the sort of situation Malfoy caused. Tedious, aggravating situations like this.

He was soaked. Trying to control a levitating brush had been too frustrating so he had levitated himself and scrubbed by hand. Only after doing this did he remember the cleaning spell. Utterly disgusted with himself he shouted, "Scourgify!" and found that it didn't work. Either Malfoy's mixture resisted magic or Snape had done something so that he would have to clean by hand. He fumed at the both of them for the next hour, resenting every second of unnecessary work. Dirty water covered his hair and clothes. When he was done he kicked the cleaning materials back into the closet and stormed out of the room. He would go shower and then see if Ron was still on the Quidditch field. He needed to burn off some energy.

His glasses were filthy and he thought only of the number of steps between himself and his shower. Otherwise he would have seen them. Instead, high-pitched laughter drilled into the side of his head. It was Malfoy, of course. He knew without looking. He also heard the slower, low-pitched laughs of Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry whirled on them. He didn't pull out his wand yet Malfoy stopped laughing and even took a step back. Crabbe stepped forward, his fists clenching. Malfoy recovered and smirked.

"Aren't you a vision, Potter," he said. "Though your hair actually looks better."

Harry considered pulling out his wand. He considered forgetting the wand and rushing at them, even with Crabbe and Goyle there. His mind went back to the pummeling he'd given Malfoy last year and he badly wished Malfoy were alone. Malfoy's smile faltered again and he pulled out his wand.

"What's going on here?" Everyone turned to see McGonagall coming up the hallway. Malfoy quickly hid his wand. "Are we having a problem?" she asked.

"No," said Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle looked unsure and muttered something unintelligible.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Everything's fine," Harry said. "If you'll excuse me I want to get to the showers."

"Of course," she said, glancing at his drenched robes. She stayed long enough to be sure that Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle wandered away in a different direction.

*

Harry scuffed his feet through leaves as he walked along the edge of the forest. He had started taking long walks a few weeks ago, tracing the edge of the permitted areas of Hogwarts. He glanced into the forest and considered going in, but he knew he would only be doing it out of boredom. He wasn't quite that crazy. At least not yet. He wished that something would happen. He couldn't take any more of this waiting. Eventually the war would begin and he would have to fight. He couldn't pretend it wasn't coming. He couldn't forget about it just because he had some free time. Every day he waited, wondering when it would all start.

He'd started taking these walks to give Ron and Hermione some time alone. The tension in his chest loosened a little at the thought of them. They were so funny with their affection and discomfort. They were doing all right; they could forget and enjoy things. And it was better without Harry around to drag them down. He enjoyed the thought of them more when he kept himself out of the picture.

Yet eventually that brought him back to himself, walking alone and kicking leaves. He didn't want to ruin anything for Ron and Hermione but he was bored, lonely, and worried. He didn't want things to be like this. He wanted to be out having fun. He wanted to not know what was coming. He wanted to be someone else.

Then he looked up and saw the one person who took all the pain away. Draco Malfoy was breaking into the Herbology shed. He glanced around shiftily and then slipped inside. He was alone.

Harry quickened his pace and went directly to the shed. Malfoy was alone! No Crabbe and Goyle, and no teachers. Just Malfoy in a little shed that was far away from the rest of the school. He went inside.

Malfoy looked up in surprise, then irritation. "What you you want?" he asked. Harry didn't answer or pause, but walked straight to him. Malfoy blinked and then pulled out his wand but Harry was already there. He snatched Malfoy's wand away and tossed it over his shoulder. He pushed Malfoy back against a wall.

Harry was taller than Malfoy and easily twenty pounds heavier. He was pleased by the brief flash of fear of Malfoy's face. He drew his own wand and pointed it.

"So what is this?" Malfoy sneered. "Is this your big moment?" He looked uncertain as Harry said nothing. "You can't do anything to me, Potter. You'd be expelled. You'd be imprisoned." He glanced around, trying to see out the one small window. He was looking more and more afraid. "You can't do this, I'll tell Snape--"

Harry threw his own wand down and pushed Malfoy harder against the wall. He grabbed Malfoy's shoulders and slammed him again. "You," he began, but he didn't know what to say. Malfoy was indescribable. And usually he didn't need to say anything. Malfoy always made it easy; he always started it. Now here he was minding his own business and that enraged Harry even more. He slammed Malfoy against the wall again. He wanted to tell Malfoy off. He wanted to break that pinched little face. He wanted to pound his whole life into Malfoy and be rid of it. His mind was a white-hot blaze and he didn't even know what he wanted.

He knocked Malfoy into the wall over and over, though not very hard. As the haze in his mind faded he stopped. Malfoy staggered so Harry held on to his shoulders. He didn't appear to be bleeding or very hurt, just dizzy. Harry wasn't sure what to do now. He could do anything, and it frightened him. He leaned Malfoy gently against the wall, supporting him.

After a few rasping breaths Malfoy's eyes focused and he shoved Harry away. Harry backed up a few paces and watched him. "Are you OK?" he asked.

Malfoy looked up, his face twisted in rage. "Go away," he snarled. Harry watched as he grabbed for a jar from one of the shelves. He took a sprig of some plant from inside and stuffed it in his mouth. "Get out!" he repeated, his voice stronger. Harry backed out of the shed and then ran.

*

"What do you think, Harry? Harry?"

Harry looked up at Hermione. "What?" he asked. He shoveled in another bite of dinner.

"What do you think of my study plan? Do you think we can fit everything in? I wanted us to study together as much as we could." She showed him a chart done in various colors.

Harry glanced at Ron, who rolled his eyes and grinned. He grinned back despite the tight knot in his gut. He'd been waiting all day for Snape or McGonagall to descend on him. Surely Malfoy would tell someone and then he would be in serious trouble. Though truthfully he was relieved to see Malfoy at dinner. He'd been a little afraid that Malfoy was still lying on the floor of the Herbology shed.

"See, I can study arithmancy while you two are in Quidditch practice--"

"Just say it's wonderful or she'll go over the whole thing all over again," interrupted Ron. Hermione shot him a glare and he stuck his tongue out at her.

Harry smiled. "It's wonderful," he said.

*

Harry scuffed along through the leaves during his walk. There was a slight chill that morning and he was enjoying the smell of the air. He stopped and looked into the forest for a while. He wondered what was going on in there lately, but he had no desire to find out that day. He was simply enjoying his walk and enjoying the fall air. That was enough.

He started to go on when he heard a strange thud coming from the forest. Then he heard a few quick steps. "Hello?" he called. There was no answer. He was about to conclude that he had imagined it when he heard another thud and more footsteps.

"Hello?" he called again. He ventured a little way into the forest. It was more dangerous here than usual since the centaurs decided to despise all humans. But it didn't seem likely that centaurs would trick someone into coming in and it was possible that another student had gotten lost and was in danger. "Hello?" he repeated. "Is anyone there?" He pulled out his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew from his hand. He turned around and saw Draco Malfoy advancing on him. "Petrificus totalus!" Harry's whole body froze and he yelped as he tipped over. He fell back and hit a tree that was close behind him.

Malfoy closed in, grinning. "Going for a stroll, Potter?" he drawled. "You know the forest is off limits."

Harry could move his head just a little bit. He shifted to balance on the tree so he wouldn't fall over. "I recall you were afraid of the forest," he said.

"And you just had to come in to see what was going on. I knew you would," Malfoy continued, ignoring what Harry had said. He stood only a foot away. "Brave Harry Potter," he spat. "You know he's going to kill you?"

Harry shivered. Did Malfoy know the prophecy? Did the Death Eaters know? He wasn't sure why that would be horrible but Dumbledore had tried hard to keep it from them. How had they found out?

"My father will get out and when this war starts, he will kill you," Malfoy continued. "He will present you to the Dark Lord and then--What?"

Harry had rolled his eyes and groaned. He was even chuckling a little. Malfoy slammed a hand into his chest, which did not move at all. Harry snorted as Malfoy winced and shook his hand a few times.

"Shut up! It's starting soon and you'll die! And your mudblood friend will die, too!"

Harry stopped laughing. His face twisted into a snarl. Malfoy had no right to talk about Hermione.

"Yes!" continued Malfoy, delighted to have gotten a reaction. "All the mudbloods will die. Only purebloods will study magic from then on--and only the right sort! Hopefully those Weasleys will die in the war--"

"Shut up!" Harry screamed. "How can you talk like that? How can you talk about killing like that?" And as soon as he said it, he felt a surge of curiosity. His anger faded and he studied Malfoy. What did he actually know? What did he actually think?

"They're mudbloods. They deserve it. They shouldn't be here, messing everything up. Soon things will be back the way they're supposed to be." Malfoy faltered as Harry continued to gaze at him.

Harry had never heard Malfoy say anything rational about this sort of thing. He only repeated what his father said. If Malfoy really was just a leaf blown around by everyone else, then maybe he knew nothing.

"Have you ever even seen anyone die?" asked Harry.

Malfoy looked confused and glanced away. "What does that matter?"

"You haven't, have you? You couldn't see the thestrals," Harry said. "You don't have the slightest idea what's going to happen, do you?"

Malfoy punched Harry in the face, which hurt them both. "It's you who doesn't understand, Potter. The walls are closing in and you are on the wrong side. Someday you'll have to take your head out of the sand. Then we'll see what you do. We'll see who you really are." He grabbed Harry by the face and shoved him onto the ground. He turned and stomped away.

"Someday you'll have to take your head out of your ass, Malfoy!" Harry called after him. "Then we'll see what you do. We'll see who you really are!"

*

Harry lay on the ground, not sure how long the spell would last or whether anything would attack him. But within an hour, Hagrid happened by and saw him.

"Harry! What are you doing on the ground? Are you all right?" He picked Harry up as easily as Harry would pick up a broom. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm paralyzed. I was in a fight," Harry said.

"What? I'm taking you right to the infirmary. Who did this?" The world spun as Hagrid turned around and headed out of the woods.

"No! Hagrid, wait." Harry didn't want to say anything about Malfoy because Malfoy could tell about the Herbology shed. "Just take me back to your cottage and find Ron and Hermione."

"Well, all right." Hagrid didn't seem happy about it. "It's not anything... I should know about?"

"No," said Harry. "It was just--personal. Oh, wait, can you get my wand? It's over there." He tried to nod his head towards the wand.

Hagrid tucked Harry under one arm and fetched the wand. He strode off to his cottage. Harry watched the world swing by in an alarming way. When they entered the cottage, Hagrid tried to set Harry in a chair, then on top of a chair. He settled for leaning Harry against a wall. "Is that all right?" he asked. Harry said it was fine. "All right, I'll be back quick."

Harry thought over his conversation with Malfoy. His curiosity faded and his anger returned when he remembered how Malfoy had talked about Ron and Hermione. So what if he was just an idiot? He would still become a Death Eater and he would still support Voldemort. He would probably kill someone Harry loved and he didn't even understand.

Harry understood death. He had lived with the death of his parents for his entire life. He had lived through the death of his godfather, which he still couldn't bear to think about. And sometimes he still woke up in the middle of the night seeing Cedric Diggory's pale, unmoving face. Malfoy knew nothing of this. Malfoy didn't know what death was at all. He understood nothing.

Harry wanted to make him understand.

*

Harry listlessly fiddled with his ingredients in potions class. He was working with Hermione who was eager to mix everything. She was also eager to talk, but Harry wasn't. He didn't want to discuss what had happened with Malfoy. He didn't know how to tell Hermione about what he felt. Malfoy was an insult to the memory of Sirius, and Cedric. And his parents.

"Are you having a problem, Potter?"

Hermione cut off in midsentence and turned back to her potion. Harry sat up straighter.

"You don't seem particularly interested in today's lesson, Potter. Perhaps you have more important things on your mind?" Snape eyed him gleefully. Harry said nothing. "Since you don't feel the need to participate, perhaps we can put you to better use. Come here."

Harry approached Snape's desk, suddenly apprehensive. Snape might want to test potions on him. But Snape only handed him a parchment with a lengthy list on it. "You will fetch these plants from the Herbology shed and bring them to my office." Harry eyed the list. He wasn't even sure he recognized all of the plants. "Go," Snape said. Harry didn't argue. At least this got him out of class.

As Harry walked across the grounds, he realized that he was not only grateful to be away from potions class, but also from Hermione's questions. He didn't know how to say anything anymore. He didn't know how to talk to her.

He poked around in the shed. Luckily, most things were labeled. It still took him at least half an hour to gather the herbs. He set them all in a sack along with the parchment and dragged it back to the castle.

Class had long been over so he went directly to Snape's office. He knocked on the door.

"Come in." Harry hefted the sack and went inside. Snape smirked at him as he struggled to lift the sack onto a table. "Thank you, Potter. That will be all." Harry resisted saying anything or even looking at him. As he turned to go he paused. Dumbledore's Pensieve was back in Snape's office.

Snape followed his gaze. "That will be all, Potter!" he snarled. Harry left quickly.

All the way back to his dorm Harry thought about the Pensieve. He toyed with a fantasy. Then the fantasy became an idea--a crazy idea, but one that rooted in his mind. Malfoy didn't understand anything Harry understood. Malfoy had never seen death. He had never seen anything like what Harry had experienced.

Maybe Harry could show him.

*

He couldn't sleep. Harry lay in bed and stared at the draperies. He kept thinking about the Pensieve. It was a stupid, crazy idea. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. He could take out the memories that plagued him and give them to Malfoy. Then Malfoy would understand. Then somebody would understand him. And Malfoy deserved it. His fists clenched as he thought about it. Malfoy deserved to feel how Harry felt.

He stood up almost without realizing it. He couldn't help it. It was a stupid idea but he had to do it. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't go on like this. He had to do something.

He pulled out his invisibility cloak, the Marauders's Map, and the knife Sirius had given him. He moved quietly so he wouldn't wake the others. He didn't want to try to explain this to Ron. He snuck out the door.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, and had never meant it more. The map cleared and he made his way down the corridors. He made it to Snape's office without problem and opened the door with Sirius's knife. The Pensieve was still there.

He almost picked it up before realizing that there was something in it. Grayish mist swirled around. His heart sank. If Snape was using the Pensieve, there was nothing he could do. Harry couldn't mix his own thoughts in, or he didn't want to even if it was possible, and he couldn't put Snape's thoughts anywhere else. His idea wouldn't work. He would have to go back.

He felt a twinge of curiosity and considered looking into the Pensieve. But he quickly decided against it. He absolutely wanted no more of Snape's memories. He sighed and looked down at the map. He almost fainted when he saw that Snape was heading towards his office.

Quickly he ran to a corner of the room and straightened the cloak. He was completely invisible and had not moved a thing. This would be fine. He only had to be quiet.

The door banged open. Snape slammed it shut and locked it. He strode towards the Pensieve but halfway there he seemed to deflate. He went to his desk instead and collapsed into the chair, staring at the ceiling. Then he slumped over the desk with his face in his hands.

Harry barely breathed. All other danger fled his mind. Detention, expulsion, arrest, even Voldemort paled in comparison to what Snape would do to him if he knew Harry was watching.

Snape finally stood up and went to the Pensieve. He set his wand to the edge and scooped up the gray mist. He set it to his temple and the fluid slid inside. Harry saw a spasm of pain cross his face. Then he straightened his shoulders and marched towards the door. He slammed it shut and locked Harry inside.

It occurred to Harry that he had to be crazy. He had come down to Snape's office on a whim and had almost been flayed alive. And for what? Even if he did take the Pensieve, which he could since it was now empty, Snape would obviously notice in the morning. What could he do in one night? He didn't have Malfoy with him. Malfoy was asleep in Slytherin.

He took it anyway.

*

Harry ran back upstairs and snuck into his room. He set the Pensieve in the middle of his bed and drew the curtains. Then he grabbed his Firebolt. If he had no Malfoy he would go find Malfoy. He slipped back out of the room, ignoring the sensible voices in his head which were screaming in a voice rather similar to Hermione's. He had to keep trying this.

He went to a window at the end of the hallway and opened it. He wasn't sure if this would set off any sorts of alarms--too bad the Hermione voice in his head wasn't here to tell him details from Hogwarts: a History. He grinned at the thought and jumped out the window.

He flew down the side of the building and around to the Slytherin dorm. He wasn't sure which windows were the sixth years, but he could tell which windows were bedrooms and would just check each one.

In the first room he saw only seven beds with closed drapes. As that was the wrong number, he knew Malfoy wasn't in there. In the second room a few beds were open and he saw girls. That meant he could skip this side of the wing. He flew around to the boys' side. One room had the window curtains drawn. One room had closed beds, but again the wrong number. In the next room he saw Malfoy.

He'd left his draperies open and he had the bed closest to the window. Harry saw that no one else had left their bed draperies open. This was perfect. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. What exactly did he think he was doing? Did he think Malfoy would just slip out his window and ride away with Harry on a broom? He stared, watching Malfoy shift in his sleep. He had come this far and yet he didn't know what to do now. Against his will his hand tapped lightly on the window. But while Malfoy rolled over, he didn't wake up. Harry was afraid to knock louder. He did it anyway, but it had no effect.

The screaming Hermione voices took over and he flew back to his own wing. He slipped in the window and back into his room. Feeling sick, he put away the Firebolt and picked up the Pensieve. He'd managed all that and it had been for nothing. Yet he hadn't been caught. He would return the Pensieve and suffer no damage from his attack of insanity. He snuck back to Snape's office and returned to his room without incident. He put away the cloak and knife. As he settled into bed he felt curiously satisfied. At least he had tried, and he hadn't had any problems despite the risk. At least he had done something.

*

Harry still felt good in the morning. He greeted Ron happily, and was especially amused and pleased to see Hermione. They were confused but delighted by his good mood. They had a herbology class that morning which was especially messy and fun. They were studying a plant which apparently reproduced by firing sticky seeds at anything that moved. If it missed, it would send its seed somewhere nearby. If it hit, the person or animal would run away and spread the seed further. They had to transplant these creatures while dodging seeds. Eventually it degenerated into a massive seed fight, for which Sprout was surprisingly tolerant. Harry even thought he saw her nudge a plant so that it fired towards a student.

Afterward Harry volunteered to carry the old pots back to the Herbology shed. Sprout awarded ten points to Gryffindor for his spontaneous offer. He smiled and breathed in the fall air as he walked to the shed. He sorted the pots out by size and put them away. Then he straightened some of the other shelves and cleaned a bit, enjoying the mingled smell of all the plants.

"Potter." Harry whirled around and saw Malfoy standing in the doorway. His voice had been quiet and he looked confused and somehow strained. He studied Harry carefully.

"What?" Harry asked after a moment when Malfoy didn't speak again. He didn't want to see Malfoy now. He'd been having such a good day. He didn't want to think about anything to do with Malfoy.

"Potter," Malfoy began again, and then stopped. Harry was curious despite himself. He realized that Malfoy had come here alone, which was very unlike him. He realized that Malfoy had attacked him in the woods alone, as well. When he stopped to think about it, that was shocking. Malfoy was always surrounded by Crabbe and Goyle, especially if there was anything risky happening.

"Potter," Malfoy tried again. "Were you flying around on a broom outside my window last night?"

Harry's breath stopped. He dropped the rag he had been using to clean a shelf.

Malfoy looked relieved. "You were," he said with an accusatory note.

Harry sighed. "I was," he said. Now he was in for it.

Several emotions flicked across Malfoy's face. He seemed to be deciding something. Then he said, "Why?"

"I wanted to show you something. It isn't important."

"What?"

Harry glanced up. A hope surged up in him, yet with it came a sorrow. He'd managed to forget about things today. Now it was all back. Still, if he had a chance to do this, he wanted to try.

"Can you meet me tonight? After midnight? I can't promise I can get it, but if I can then meet me in the Transfiguration lab."

"What is it you want to show me?"

Harry paused. If he told Malfoy what it was, then he probably wouldn't do it. He was, after all, trying to infect Malfoy with his own knowledge and heavy memories. "It's.. information," he said.

Malfoy's face screwed up in confusion and suspicion. "Why would you want to give me information?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. After a while he said, "No good reason," and grinned despite himself.

Malfoy looked even more confused. But he said, "All right," and abruptly left.

Harry stared after him. He didn't quite believe that had just happened. Now he had to go get the Pensieve again. He was going to go through with this. The Hermione voices chattered faintly in his head but he didn't listen. He didn't think at all.

*

He broke into Snape's office again with no trouble. He was slightly horrified to see that the Pensieve was empty. If it had been full, he could have backed out of the plan. Instead he watched as his hands grabbed the Pensieve and tucked it under his cloak. He checked his map and went to the Transfiguration lab. His heart sunk with every step. He had not thought this through. Yet he hated the thought of giving up and going back to doing nothing. He had to do this.

He set down the Pensieve and checked his map again. Malfoy was making his way through the halls. It looked as if he wouldn't meet with any trouble. Harry took out his wand and looked apprehensively at the Pensieve.

He wasn't sure exactly how this worked. He touched his wand to his temple but nothing happened. He touched his wand to the Pensieve and felt a slight surge of energy. His wand seemed to be vibrating.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to put there. Hermione voices deafened his mind for a whole minute after he realized that. But still he couldn't back out. He could show the death of his parents, except that was vague and might not mean much by itself. He could show the death of Sirius, but that was too painful and too personal. He wasn't showing Malfoy that.

He remembered the end of fourth year, when Malfoy barged into his train compartment crowing about the return of Voldemort. "Diggory is just the first," he'd said, or something like it. Harry had never forgiven him for that. Cedric Diggory had been a good person who had been casually killed for being in the wrong place. Harry still remembered his lifeless face. Diggory had even been a pureblood and not involved in the fight at all. But still he'd been thrown away--that was the way Voldemort was.

He would show Malfoy the death of Cedric Diggory.

But he still wasn't sure how to do it. He tried to think of Cedric and found that he didn't want to. He thought vaguely of that night and set his wand to his temple. There was a hideous draining feeling, and masses of grayish liquid slid onto his wand. Quickly he set his wand to the Pensieve and the liquid swirled inside.

He shuddered as he remembered the feeling. He tried to figure out what he had put in there. It seemed there was a hole in his memory. He remembered arguing with Cedric about who should take the Triwizard trophy, but he couldn't remember what they had decided. And he remembered watching Cedric's body be carried away by a crowd of people as other people tried to get him to the infirmary. Sickened, he relived his conversation with the fake Moody which had come right after that. He shook his head. He felt strange. The memories surrounding the hole were oddly vivid.

The door opened and Malfoy slipped inside. Harry blinked and looked up at him.

Malfoy came in a few steps and then stopped. "That's a Pensieve," he said. He looked at Harry who eventually remembered to nod. "You want to show me a memory?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

Malfoy didn't come closer. "What's in there?"

"Death."

Malfoy looked startled and alarmed. Harry's head cleared and he glared at Malfoy. "You don't understand death," he said. "I think you should." Malfoy backed away. "Come on, Malfoy. I'm offering you information. All that's in there are memories from my own head. What are you afraid of?"

Malfoy glared at him furiously. Harry enjoyed that look. He enjoyed the fact that Malfoy was beginning to understand already. Already he knew that Harry's memories were dangerous.

"Fine," he snapped. He walked up to the Pensieve. "How do I use this thing?"

"You put your face in there," Harry said. Malfoy, who was apparently refusing to think about this just as much as Harry was, stuffed his face in the Pensieve.

Harry sat and watched him. He had never seen anyone use a Pensieve and he wasn't sure how long it would take. It seemed to take ages when he did it himself. It was rather like watching a movie. Did you have to wait that long in real life? He watched Malfoy uncertainly. He wasn't exactly sure what was in there. Diggory's death, of course, as Diggory was alive at the beginning of the memory and dead at the end.

With a sinking feeling he realized that his entire confrontation with Voldemort was in there. He wasn't sure exactly what happened, as later associations turn it into a blur of fear and pain. And wasn't there a speech with a lot of information in it? Should he be giving that to Malfoy? But then Lucius had been there the entire time, so it wasn't anything Malfoy didn't know. Harry tried to think of what else had happened, but he only remembered the constant fear. Surely it hadn't gone on this long? Malfoy was still watching.

Harry watched him uncertainly. He considered pulling Malfoy away and stopping the entire thing. After what seemed like an eternity, Malfoy stood up. His eyes were wide, his face slack. He didn't look at Harry. He stared at the wall, dazed.

"Er," said Harry. He wasn't sure what to do now. He waved a hand in front of Malfoy's face.

He didn't even blink. But he spoke. "That was him?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"Who? Voldemort?"

Malfoy flinched and focused on Harry. He looked terrified. As Harry watched he started to shiver uncontrollably.

"Er," Harry said again. "Malfoy?" He tentatively put a hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

The use of his surname seemed to scare him even more. "We're fine!" he shrieked at Harry. "We'll be fine! We're his favored!" He said that last with horror and his eyes unfocused again. Then he shook his head. "He deserved it!" he said.

Harry's hand tightened on his shoulder. He felt a rage slowly building. Maybe it had been unrealistic to expect Malfoy to understand how Harry felt about Cedric, but that was too much.

But Malfoy continued, not even noticing Harry's fingers digging into his skin. "He was weak! Father always said that!" He said this to Harry as if trying to convince him.

Harry's mind whirled. What the hell was Malfoy talking about? It couldn't be Cedric. He pushed Malfoy to one side and took out his wand. Yet he didn't let go of Malfoy's shoulder. He could still feel Malfoy practically vibrating under his hand. It seemed somehow cruel to let go. He scooped the mist out of the Pensieve with his left hand and set the wand to his temple.

There was a revolting sucking feeling, and he staggered. His memories raced back into their proper spots. He felt dizzy. He also felt as if the whole event had just happened; he remembered every moment clearly. It was by far the craziest thing that had ever happened to him: the scaly Voldemort baby, the bloody ritual resurrection, that insane duel where he flew through the air into a dome and dead people sprouted out of Voldemort's wand. He shuddered at the memory.

Then he remembered Malfoy. He was still standing in shock, shaking against Harry's hand. Harry looked over the memory from Malfoy's point of view. Malfoy had never seen anything like this before. He hadn't seen Voldemort sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head, nor faced a basilisk, nor been attacked by Dementors. Malfoy had never seen anything like Voldemort. He remembered Wormtail cutting off his hand. He remembered Lucius Malfoy crawling on the ground. He remembered the Death Eater Voldemort tortured. "Avery?" he asked Malfoy, still trying to sort out his memories. "Do you mean Avery?"

Malfoy gave a piteous whimper that frightened Harry. He still wasn't focusing on anything. His face seemed even more slack than before. Harry remembered that Avery was the one tortured when they couldn't get the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. Maybe they really didn't like him. Maybe he really was weaker; an exception to the rule. Should he tell that to Malfoy? Would it make him feel better?

But then Harry felt angry again. He wasn't here to make Malfoy feel better. He was here to make Malfoy understand. Avery was no exception. Malfoy wanted to pick sides? He should know what he was choosing. "That's how Voldemort rules," Harry said harshly. "That's who he is."

Malfoy flinched and shuddered more violently. He started gasping in breaths and letting out a strange moaning noise. Harry realized that he was sort of crying. His skin felt cold. He swayed on his feet.

Harry felt a rush of pity. Something seemed physically wrong with him. He caught Malfoy as he swayed and pulled him into an awkward embrace. "Er," he said. "It's OK." He clumsily patted Malfoy on the back. Malfoy leaned against him with a dead weight. Harry leaned back into the table for support and balanced him. "Er," he said again. "Malfoy?"

But again the use of his surname made him flinch and whimper. Harry involuntarily tightened his arms. "Uh, Draco? Draco. It's OK." He patted Draco on the back again. Draco's arms came up around him and he clung tightly. Harry twisted his head away and tried to breathe. He held on while Draco shuddered against him.

Eventually Draco stilled and just leaned against him, breathing deeply. "Uh. Draco?" Harry asked. Draco pushed violently away and looked up at him. He stared into Harry's eyes for a long moment. Harry couldn't read his expression. Then he turned and ran from the room.

Harry watched him go, stunned, still leaning against the table. Then he noticed a faint light coming in through the windows. He swore and pulled out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said vehemently. The halls were still empty. He saw Malfoy running back to Slytherin. He picked up the Pensieve and his cloak and rushed from the room.

*

Harry yawned during breakfast. He'd made it back to his room with an hour to spare but he didn't sleep. His mind was still racing with all that had happened. Yet by now, sitting in the warm dining hall with Ron and Hermione, his adrenaline had worn off. He only wanted to eat and go back to sleep.

"Did you hear?" Hermione asked. "Malfoy is in the infirmary."

Harry's head shot up. "What?"

"Malfoy," Hermione said, spreading jam on a slice of toast. "He was taken down to the infirmary this morning."

"Is it serious?" Ron asked eagerly.

"I think he's faking, myself. We have an arithmancy test today. He only complained that he was tired and refused to get out of bed. Though someone did say that he looked dreadful." She shrugged.

Harry's gut clenched. Malfoy hadn't looked that bad. He'd only been a little upset. Maybe in shock. But Harry certainly hadn't done anything to him. "Did you hear anything else?"

"No," said Hermione. She gave him a slightly puzzled look. "I expect it's nothing."

"Wait, now, let's not lose hope," said Ron.

Harry tried to shrug off the feeling of guilt. This wasn't his fault. All he had done was show Malfoy a memory. The Pensieve had never had any physical affects on him. Malfoy was just being a brat. He refused to get out of bed--what kind of thing was that to do? This wasn't Harry's problem.

It didn't work. He distracted himself through breakfast but soon the guilt returned. He hated it: he wasn't responsible for Malfoy's reaction to the truth. He wasn't responsible for Malfoy's life. It had nothing to do with him. Yet he felt horrible all the same. Because he had done this on purpose. He'd given those memories to Malfoy in order to hurt him. He'd known that. He'd known those memories were dangerous, even if that didn't make sense. Even if none of it made sense: he'd wanted to hurt Malfoy. And now Malfoy was in the infirmary.

Well he deserved it. That seemed true. If Malfoy deserved a punch in the face then he also deserved this. Right? And it might have even done some good. Before Malfoy was going to run off and join his father as soon as he could. Now he might think first. Harry had done the world a favor.

Yet he still felt sick. He couldn't listen to a word of Transfiguration class and he couldn't manage the spells. He kept looking at the table that had held the Pensieve. He kept remembering Draco's terrified face, and the other look, the worse one: the unfocused, slack look of someone who had just been stabbed. He'd done that. He couldn't pretend he hadn't.

And he couldn't pretend he hadn't meant to do it.

He tried to find the rage that had carried him through this horrible waiting time. He tried to remember that Malfoy was a horrible, wretched person. But he kept looking at that table and remembering leaning against it with Draco collapsed in his arms. He couldn't remember how to hate him.

Professor McGonagall kept him after class. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

"You were very distracted today. Is there anything you wish to talk about?"

"No," Harry said. He hesitated and then asked, "Do you know what's wrong with Malfoy?"

"Madam Pomfrey isn't sure. He seems physically well." She fixed him with a steely gaze. "Do you know something about the circumstances of Mr. Malfoy's illness?"

Harry looked away. "No."

"Because any information would be helpful to Madam Pomfrey." She gave him ample time to squirm before continuing. "She says that it resembles some of the worse cases of stress that students have during their fifth year O.W.L.s. But nothing in particular is happening with sixth years at this time. Academically, that is." She stared him down for a bit and then sighed. "Well, never mind. If it's stress then it's not your problem. However if you knew of any magical reasons why Mr. Malfoy might be under continuing stress, I would expect you to inform a teacher at once."

"No, no," Harry said. She seemed to believe that.

"Well, then." She sighed again. "You may go."

*

He caught up with Ron and Hermione at lunch. He didn't want to bring up Draco right away so he chatted for a while about whatever they had to say, and then said casually, "Have you heard any more about Malfoy?"

"I did," said Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey gave him something to help him sleep and then an hour later he woke up screaming. Lavender heard it from the hallway; she said it was a terrible sound."

Harry looked down at his food. He hadn't wanted to hear this. He picked at his food and tried not to think about it. He didn't hear anything that Ron and Hermione said. After a little while he said, "Any idea what he was screaming about?"

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Draco."

They both stared at him. Harry shrugged. "I was just curious about it."

They exchanged a look. "No, I didn't hear anything else about it," said Hermione.

"OK, it's not important," Harry said and then stuffed food into his mouth. Ron shrugged and asked him about the Quidditch practice coming up. Hermione continued to watch Harry thoughtfully.

*

Harry managed to get through the rest of the day without acting so strangely. Yet he thought of it all day. He wavered between worry, guilt, and anger. He felt better after Quidditch practice, yet he was still distracted all day. He lay awake that night, unable to sort through the mess of emotions.

Finally he sat up. He snuck out of bed and pulled out his cloak and map. He felt foolish but again he couldn't stand to do nothing. He wanted to find out for himself. He tapped the map and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He smiled wryly at the words. He saw Malfoy was still in the infirmary. He put on his cloak and slipped out the door.

Draco was alone in the infirmary. He seemed to be asleep. Harry stood and looked down at him. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd wanted to do here. But at least he could see that Draco was unharmed. He still worried that he'd used the Pensieve incorrectly and somehow caused real damage. Not that he could tell from this. Draco was asleep. Harry could see his eyes flick back and forth.

Suddenly Draco's eyes snapped open and he breathed in sharply. He sighed and put his hands over his face. He flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, then got up. Harry followed him into Madam Pomfrey's office. He waved his wand at a cabinet which sprang open. He reached into the back for a particular jar--he seemed to know exactly what he was looking for--and pulled it out. He pulled out several dried leaves and put the jar back. Cupping the leaves in one hand, he poured a glass of water. Harry tried to read the label on the jar but he couldn't see it without moving things. He looked back at Draco, who was staring down at the leaves with a frown.

"What're those?" Harry asked.

Draco jumped at least three inches in the air. The leaves scattered on the floor and the water flew across the room. Harry cringed at the glass shattering and quickly took off his cloak. "Sorry, sorry," he said. He went to the corner and repaired the glass. He brought it back over and handed the empty glass to Draco. "Sorry," he said again.

Draco stared at him in complete disbelief. Then he gave a snort of laughter and took the glass. He bent down to gather the leaves. Harry watched him, embarrassed. Draco poured another glass of water.

"So what are those?" Harry asked again.

"They help me sleep," Draco said. He stuffed them in his mouth and chewed, sipping the water.

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure what else to say. Obviously Draco was taking more of them than he was supposed to, but Harry didn't know much about such things.

"What?" asked Draco through gritted teeth. "What do you want?"

"Oh. Uh, I wanted to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine," Draco spat. He left the office and headed back to his bed. Harry followed him.

"I just wanted to know what was wrong. Or, uh, if I could do anything."

"I don't want to talk to you." Draco crawled back into bed. He wouldn't look at Harry.

"Well, I just wondered why you were here. I mean, if something went wrong. With the Pensieve or something. If there was some reaction I didn't know about." Harry wanted to pull the invisibility cloak over his head.

Draco stared at the wall. But then he said, "No. It wasn't the Pensieve."

"Oh. OK." Harry stood awkwardly. "Then why are you here?"

Draco sighed. "This is where I ended up." He looked at Harry and smirked at the look of confusion. "I just couldn't get up. So they declared me ill and sent me here. And here is working out quite well for now." His voice slowed as he spoke.

"Oh," Harry said again. His brow furrowed. "But you can't stay here."

Draco's eyes were closed. His voice was slurred and soft. "Where else am I going to go?"

Harry watched as he passed out.

*

Harry woke the next day with a plan. He would go talk to Malfoy again. They had never talked about what Malfoy had seen and Harry had never apologized. They would talk and Malfoy would go back to Slytherin and Harry could stop feeling like this. He couldn't take this guilt, this concern; he couldn't stand that he cared about what happened to Malfoy.

"You're in a good mood," Ron said, grinning at him. Harry grinned back. He was in a good mood. Tonight he would sneak down again to Malfoy and take care of things. It didn't even occur to him to go during the day when visitors were allowed. He needed to keep this secret. And he wanted them to be alone.

He got through that day easily, without being distracted. There was only a small, dull, warm ache in the pit of his stomach to remind him of what was ahead that night. He joked with Hermione, who continued to give him odd looks. He pushed himself so deeply into his good mood that he smiled brilliantly at Snape, who was thunderstruck for a full ten seconds and then found an excuse to take points from Gryffindor. Still, the day passed quickly.

He lay in bed that night, waiting in agony to be sure that everyone was asleep. Finally he crept out of bed, gathered the map, cloak, and knife, and snuck out the door. On the way down to the infirmary he started walking quickly, and then running. What if Draco had taken those leaves already? If he was too late, he couldn't talk to Malfoy and then what would he do?

He skidded to a halt outside the infirmary. He composed himself and caught his breath. He felt nervous; suddenly he didn't want to go in there. But he took a deep breath and went inside.

Draco wasn't there. Every bed was empty. Harry felt panic and then disappointment. Had Draco been sent back to Slytherin? Was he fine now? Harry hadn't heard anything about it, but then he hadn't been asking. Would he have known if Malfoy was suddenly fine? Would anyone bother to tell Gryffindors about it? He felt a deep disappointment. How would he ever talk to Draco now?

Then he heard a sound coming from Madam Pomfrey's office. Of course. He hurried inside. He had to stop Malfoy before he'd taken those leaves. Yet after he rushed in, he stopped and didn't say a word. Draco was standing by the water pitcher, again staring down at the leaves in his hand. He didn't move. He didn't eat them. He only looked at them. He looked somehow desolate and Harry couldn't speak.

Then Draco turned away and poured himself a glass of water. He raised the leaves to his mouth.

"Wait," Harry whispered.

Draco's head jerked up and he looked in Harry's direction. Yet he didn't seem startled as he had the night before. He lowered his hand and his eyes searched around the room.

"I'm here," Harry said, taking off the cloak.

Draco slowly set his glass down. Neither spoke. He looked at Harry with a searching, curious expression. Harry suddenly felt out of his depth. He'd come here planning to settle the whole thing and now he didn't know what to say.

"Hi," Harry began. Draco smiled slightly. "We need to talk."

The smile faded from Draco's face. He looked down at the leaves and then closed his hand around them. "All right," he said.

Harry stood there awkwardly and then said, "Do you want to go sit down?"

Draco sighed. "Sure." He led the way back to his bed. Harry sat on the bed next to his, facing him. Draco carefully laid the leaves on the small table next to his bed. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Uh," said Harry. "I guess about what you saw."

"You know what I saw."

This wasn't going well. "Well, yeah. But I guess about what it means. Or--or why you're here."

Draco closed his eyes. "I'm here so I don't have to think about what it means. Which has worked rather well so far. I don't know that I want to spoil it."

"Oh." Harry floundered for a moment. "But that can't last."

"All the more reason to keep it while I can."

Harry tried to figure out if that made sense. "But then what do I do?" he asked.

Draco looked up and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You? What does it matter to you?"

Harry blushed and was grateful for the dim light. "I don't know. I did it. I did this to you and so I--"

Draco laughed. It was scornful, yet with a trace of genuine amusement. "You really do think you're the center of the world, don't you?" Harry stammered a few apologies and Draco laughed again. "You didn't 'do anything' to me, Potter." His smile slipped away and his eyes grew distant. "Except perhaps wreck the world."

"I--what?"

Draco focused again. "Everything made sense before you. Everything would have gone just as it was supposed to, and the world would have been set right. Now nothing makes sense. Now everything we've been working towards makes no sense at all."

Harry was confused and growing annoyed. "I didn't do that. I didn't make Voldemort act the way he does. I didn't make your family stupid."

Draco flinched at the name and glared at Harry. "We are not stupid," he said. "It's stupid to try to fight against him. You're the one who's stupid."

"I'm not stupid! I won that duel with him!" That wasn't exactly true, but ever since he'd used the Pensieve the memory of that fight had been clearer to him. He was amazed that he'd won the battle of wills that had forced Voldemort's wand to discharge its previous spells. He saw a strange mix of emotions on Draco's face at this. Bet that's the last time he challenges me to a duel. "Besides, I'd rather be fighting him than enslaved by him. I think I'm doing better than some people who are his followers."

To Harry's surprise, Draco didn't yell back at him but instead seemed to deflate. He closed his eyes in an expression of pain. He leaned over and put his face in his hands. "Uh," said Harry. "Draco?"

"Avery's dead," said Draco, his voice slightly muffled by his hands. "I just found out four days ago." He raised his head and said clearly and bitterly, "'Died in the service of the Dark Lord.' Yet if someone on your side had killed him, it would have been all over the news in one form or another."

Harry took this in. His mind flashed to the too-clear vision of Avery screaming on the ground. "Did you know him?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter. Not really. But he's dead."

Harry had no idea what to say. They sat in silence for a long moment. Trying to start the conversation again, Harry said, "So, what are you going to do now?"

Draco groaned. "You just jump right in, don't you?" But then a look of panic crossed his face, and then that dull, slack look Harry had seen in the Transfiguration room.

Harry was alarmed. "Well, you have to do something, right?" he asked just to keep the conversation going. Draco said nothing. Harry leaned over and looked up into his face. "Draco?"

"There is nothing," Draco said as if in a trance. "I will stay in school. I will learn things. At some point my father will send for me. I will go. There is nowhere else to go."

"No." Harry couldn't stand this. He reached out and took one of Draco's hands. "You can stay here."

Draco smiled, though his eyes remained glazed. "I thought you didn't like that plan."

Harry blinked. "No, not the infirmary," he said. "I mean you can stay at Hogwarts."

"Forever?" Draco was amused. Seeing the smirk and one eyebrow cocked over those dead, glazed eyes made Harry shiver. "Do I eat at an empty table when half of Slytherin has gone? Do I close the curtains on my bed and hide in an empty room when they come for me?" He shuddered. "If I do not go they will come for me."

"You should talk to Dumbledore," Harry said. Dumbledore could fix things. That's what he did. He would be able to think of something.

"Dumbledore saves people like you, Potter," Draco said. "Not people like me."

Harry was floored by this because for a moment he believed it. But it couldn't be true. Dumbledore always understood things. He had to be able to help. Even if Harry couldn't think of a solution, Dumbledore had to be able to help.

"Or would you have me join Gryffindor?" Draco continued. His face was twisted in a dreadful mix of scorn and sorrow, but at least that dead look had been replaced by a focused, bitter hatred. "Sit at your table with all your little friends? Throw myself on the mercy of that Muggle-lover headmaster and join your suicidal band of Mudbloods?"

"Don't you talk about them like that!" Harry shouted. He felt anger, and also relief. This he understood.

"Oh, just go away," Draco said, turning away. He laid down on the bed and pulled at the covers. "You can't do anything. Just go away."

They weren't going to fight, then, and Harry was disappointed. He considered storming out and felt an anxious emptiness. He filled it with anger. "No," he said. "We're not done."

"Yes we are!" Draco shouted, sitting up. "I don't want you here!" His gaze fell on the table and he grabbed the leaves in his fist.

Harry jumped toward him and grabbed his wrist. Draco wrenched away and Harry fell onto the bed. They wrestled for the leaves and Harry won. He pinned Draco to the bed, laying across him. His hands pressed Draco's wrists into the bed next to his head. Draco strained and glared up at him, breathing hard.

Harry kissed him. He wasn't sure why. It popped into his head and then he found himself doing it. Something about Draco's angry, flushed face just demanded it. Draco froze beneath him for a second and then he was kissing Harry back. His hands slid from Harry's grasp and around his back.

Harry gasped as Draco's hands started to move all over his body. He tried to pull back but Draco held him tightly, throwing one leg around him. He twisted his face away and Draco hungrily kissed his ear, his neck. It was crazily erotic, yet terrifying. What was he doing? Draco moaned and pressed his hips into Harry, and Harry panicked. He shoved Draco away and squirmed out of his grasp.

"No--I didn't--" he said. For a moment he saw a look of desperate hurt of Draco's face. Then it was replaced by sheer loathing.

"Get out," he hissed. He yanked at the covers, pulling them up to his chest.

"I--" Harry stammered. He stood and backed away.

"Get out!" Draco snarled. Harry turned and ran, only realizing just before leaving the room that he'd forgotten his cloak. He ran to madam Pomfrey's office and put it on. As he left he saw Draco scrabbling at the blankets, grabbing the scattered leaves and stuffing them in his mouth.

*

Harry didn't want to get up the next morning. He had no idea how he would face Malfoy now. He didn't know how he felt about last night and he didn't think he wanted to know.

"Come on, we're going to be late for breakfast," said Ron. Harry dragged himself out of bed. At breakfast they were greeted by a subdued Hermione. She gave Harry a quizzical look and seemed about to say something when Seamus came over.

"Did you guys hear?" Seamus asked. "Malfoy left school."

"Really?" asked Ron. Harry said nothing. He stared at Seamus in horror.

"He left this morning. And it wasn't that he was sick--he walked back to Slytherin and packed all of his things. Then he just walked off. Filch tried to stop him and Malfoy hexed him." Clearly Seamus was enjoying that detail. "The word is he's left Hogwarts for good. I'm not sure they'd let him come back after that."

Ron was delighted. "Harry! It's like Christmas come early!" He grinned at Harry, who smiled back weakly.

Harry turned to Hermione and saw she was watching him closely. He looked away.

*

She caught up with him after Transfiguration class. She'd waited until they had a moment alone. "What's going on with you and Malfoy?" she asked.

Harry froze. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Well, you've been acting a little weird about him all term. But you've been really weird since he went to the infirmary. Did something happen?"

Harry felt a wild urge to shout, Yes, I kissed him! He stifled it. "No."

"Harry," Hermione said. "Please."

He looked at her concerned face and felt something break inside him. He had his friends. He still had his friends. He'd felt apart from them since last spring, yet here was Hermione noticing everything and wanting to help. He grabbed her and pulled her into a rough hug.

"Urg--" Hermione was surprised and confused but she hugged him back.

"Sorry," Harry said, letting her go. "I just missed you."

She looked puzzled. "What's going on?"

"I hurt Malfoy," he said. "I tried to make it better but I hurt him more. And now he's gone."

"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "Did you put him in the infirmary? Are you in trouble?"

"No," he said. "No, it wasn't like that. But it is my fault."

"Oh." She still seemed puzzled. She laid a hand on his arm. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No." Harry sighed. "No. It's too late. It's over now."

*

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