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| >> Campfire Creative >> Fiction >> Romance/Love >> ID #866329 |   |
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| [Introduction]
Sixth Year at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Hermione are back with all the usual things going on. There are new characters, there are many old, there are new problems and there are small romances springing up everywhere. Including those between ancient enemies. LEt us now begin this twisted tale, of love and magic and a friendship that must not fail, for locked in the lost tower is a secret so terrible that it cannot stay locked up for ever. Come join in if you're interested! |
 Matt - Nomad  The rain plummeted down around Privet Drive, the clouds over head were nearly purple with the moisture in the air. Most of the street was quiet, televisions on and people all happily sitting on their sofas but number four was not. Inside a man stood bellowing at a boy who was lying on the floor by the stairs holding his chin and mouth as a bruise rose up about his eye and blood trickled from his mouth. A pair of shattered glasses lay on the floor beside him. The man's face was purple, "You and your bloody freaky friends CANNOT push us around. You WILL write to them but you will write what I say! If I catch you trying to slip your own words into that letter I WILL NOT let you go back to that school of freaks!" The boy glared at the man icily, green eyes as hard as nails, "Yes Uncle Vernon." "You haven't heard what I've said!" The man was furious and lifted the tall young man to his feet, pulling him towards a door in the wall. "No..." He whispered. Harry Potter's eyes widened in fear as the door was wrenched open. With a cry he was thrown in next to his locked trunk and school things. The space was to cramped for him, he hd grown since his first year, the clutter was also cramping him terribly, the dark haunted him. Everyhting seemed to come closer and closer in, tighter and tighter. In his minds eye he saw Sirius falling through the viel, Cedric falling into death, his mother as she died for him and he screamed. This could not happen. Not again. Not now. ********** The door bell rang three hours later. Dudley ran to the door as fast as he could waddle. A young man the same age as Dudley stood in the door. he was tall, with neatly cut light brown hair, lighted with gold. He was wearing an armani brown leather jacket, a pair of worn jeans and a silvery grey t shirt. "Hello, my name is Damian Malloy. I think I'm looking for here. Are you Dudley Dursley?" He said in a slightly accented voice. "You're that friend of my dad's son aren't you?" "Yes." A flicker of annoyance passed throgh the intense blue eyes. "'Oh right... you'd better come in." "Thank you." The stranger stepped into the house, distaste shone benteath the surface of his eyes but Dudley did not see it. "MUM! DAD! He's here!" the fat lad bellowed, before turning to the boy again, he scanned him up and down. He was slender but not skinny, tall but not a giant, he was beautiful. "Oh hello," Vernon and Petunia came out of the kitchen, 'I'm Vernon this is my wife Petunia." He held out his hand and the boy took it firmly. "I'm Damian Malloy, but most people call me Draco." *********** The world span inside the cupboard, Dudley jumped on the stairs everytime he went up or down and Harry was beginning to feel ill. He probably would not be let out for days, food would be scarce and memories, old and new flashed through his mind. Tears streaked down his face but he could do nothing. ********** Draco Malfoy sat on the bed, it seemed that someone else was in the house, his eye took in his room, it was a typical muggle room in many ways except for one. An owl cage sat in one corner, bars lined the window, and a floor board was loose beneath his foot but he could not raise it because it needed a key. As he headed back downstairs for supper he couled have sworn he heard a faint cry and gentle sobs from under him but dismissed it. he was hearing things and it took more than a fwe coincidences to rattle a Malfoy. Matt - Nomad Vernon Dursley threw the door open, grabbing at the contents, a boy was pulled out of it, dark ruffled and obviously angry. Damain pushed his hair out of his eyes, blinking furiously, this could not be real. this had to some sort of dream. Harry Potter, in this house? "What the hell do you think you're playing at?!" Vernon hissed, so softly that he nearly did not hear it. "Nothing." The boy pushed the man back, shoving him into the wall, "I just didn't feel like letting you push me around." Potter's voice was cold, edgy. The emerald eyes was burning with a cold fire as he turned them first to his aunt, cousin them finally on to hmself. Something flickered as their eyes locked. Harry could not have recognised him, no his father had made the potion... it could decieve everyone. With an icy glare back at Vernon the young man pushed his shoulders back and walked out, out of the house, into the early morning. Suddenly he remembered who he was supposed to be, "Who was that?" he asked, feeling foolish as he knew only to well. "That," Vernon snarled, "was my nephew, Harry Potter." The man spat the last words out like a poison. "Don't mind him, he's a criminal, a bit..." "Messed up." dudley finished for his mother, "Up here." He screwed his finger into his head. Petunia smiled thinly, noddng, "The boy is unstable but he's - fine - at the moment. He goes to St. Brutus' so he's learning his lessons." You been reading the Daily Prophet? Draco thought, considering the irony, I wonder... Maybe I'll get to talk to him... *********** Harry came back to the house late. The night was coming on quickly and he did not want to end up thinking about the past, not now when he was feeling a little more like his old self. A car drove past him, nearly knocking him flat. He lifted his eyes to see a familiar corner. This was where he had seen Sirius for the first time, although he had not known it then. With a sigh, he crossed the road, if only Sirius as still alive... As he opened the door the Dusley's guest came tumbling out. Harry staggered backwards, the stranger falling towards him. He held him upright, making sure he regained his balance. "You alright?" He asked, though he did not know why. This was a friend of his uncle's not a person he wanted to know. But at the same time he cold sense something about this character that he did not feel in any body else in the house. "Of course." The strange boy looked up and stared straight into Harry's eyes, something stirred there deep within the sea blue, "Thank you." The words sounded foreign even to Harry, as if they had never been said before. "No problem." Harry shrugged. Suddenly something landed on his shoulder, claws digging into flesh, not enough to hurt. He rolled his eyes, "Hedwig..." He nodded to the boy who was watching him closely, turning away he walked to the road before letting his owl slip onto his arm, "What have you got for me then girl?" She stuck out her leg and hooted affectionately, it was a pale cream envelope, neat hand writing crossed the front, Hermione, Beneath this though was a small package... He opened the letter carefully, tipping it towards the street light. Dear Harry, I just wanted to send you this as I recentlt got one from my parents. If you need to contact us then use this 'cos no one would ever consider telephones. Ron and I both hope that your muggles are treating you right and that you contact us soon. Harry try not to feel to miserable, I know you just lost Sirius but try to remember how he was and well... I am sorry Harry just make sure you do not let it take you over. Lots of love, Hermione. ps. we put out numbers into it already. *grins*. He did not smile at it but he felt a little better adn as he tipped the package on to his hand he sent a silent thank you to his best friends. A small mobile lay in his palm, she was a genious. Hedwig hooted into his ear. "Are you hungry Hed? Come on let's go get something for you to eat." She nipped him affectionately and as they passed the visitor to go inside Harry could have sworn he saw a twinge of jealousy cross the lad's face. Matt - Nomad Harry held the door open for the vistor, raising an inquiring eyebrow. The brown haired stranger smiled his thanks. That smile seemed to be foreign to him, in may ways it looked as if it was trying not to become a smirk. With a degree of caution that seemed unnesscerary he slid back inside, past Harry. "Thanks... ummm... You're Harry right?" A slight hint of embarassment flashed across his face. "Yeah. I'm their evil nephew that's full of criminal intentions." Harry replied with a sacastic tone and a small grin playing across his face. Damian looked surprised, he had never really heard sacasm from the black haired wizard... until now... "They certainly didn't seem to like you...." he said tentively. "No, who'd of thought?" Harry put on the picture of innocence. "I swear I'm not as bad I sound from them." "I figured that out. Owl's don't like people who aren't trustworthy." Harry galnced at him oddly, peering closer, hurriedly Dracoi corrected himself, "It's a well known fact where I come from." The wizard did not look content but he nodded and began to head up stairs. Damian followed, pretending to head for his room. to his surprise so was the other boy. "Uh... is this normally your room?" Harry nodded. "But I always get bunked out when it's visitors, I just need to get a few things..." "Sure... Okay...." Matt - Nomad Draco watched in fascination as Harry wrenched up a floor board by the bed and pulled out a series of books and parchments and small wrapped up parcels. He presumed that was his rival's homework. He could trash it all now... He could actually destroy anything that Harry had. It was all in... He looked around his room for the first time. He had considered a normal muggle room before but knowing that someone actually normally lived in it... He was surprised. The walls were blank. The corner had a cot full of old toys in it... There was a cage in the corner for the owl but that was the only real sign or Harry in the room. Was this really the boy's room? The bars on the window and cat flap in the door maybe his stomach tie itself in knots. He turned back to Harry, who was done. "Thanks. I'll see you later." Harry was smiling slightly, a slight warmth tickling the surface of his eyes, "I'm afraid my owl sleeps in here but she's out most of the time and you won't notice her I swear and-" Harry began to ramble in defence of his owl. "It's perfectly alright." Damian smirked, "I've an owl that lives outside my window. I'm used to it." The lie slipped off his tongue. For a secondhe wondered if he should tell Harry who he was and decided against it. He didn't want this Harry, who seemed so very different to Potter at school, to hate him. To be honest... He had never wanted Harry to hate him at all. Stormy is Editing Hedwig hooted softly from her perch in her cage, her gold eyes watching Damian. Harry looked at her and then back to the boy. "If you don't mind," he paused, keeping his eyes fastened on Damian, "keeping the window open for her? Maybe letting her out so she can hunt at night? You don't have to let her back in, if you want your window closed," Harry paused again at the disgruntled hoot from Hedwig. He turned towards her, "No really Hedwig," but he was broken off as Damian shook his head. "No, I think it'll be fine to have the window open. If she'd like to go in and out, it won't bother me," the familiar way the boy spoke made Harry turn back to him. There was something... something about him that made him think of Hogwarts. Must be being cooped up in this place so long. The boy had his eyes on Hedwig, as though he was thinking about something he missed. "Is something wrong?" Harry found himself asking. It surprised both of them, Harry's eyes widened a bit and Damian turned to look at Harry, his hair whiping around his face in the quickness of the movement. "No, does it seem like there is?" Damian's voice was slightly sharp, and Harry knew that tone. He was hiding something. "Yes, but you don't have to talk to me, you're related to my Uncle so you don't want to go spending too much time with the crazy nephew." Harry wrapped his arms around his books and turned away from him, intending on going back downstairs. He had gotten what he came for, and it was time to dissapear again. "Wait," came Damian's voice, and he put a hand on Harry's shoulder to stop him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I just..." he removed his hand as Harry turned around to look at him. "You just?" Harry raised his eyebrows at him. When had anyone stopped him for anything on Privet Drive? It had such a... normal feel to it, as though this were something that should happen in a... normal house. Damian looked away from him and shrugged. Then he took a breath and turned back to Harry. "Well, I suppose I should just come out with it then. My home you see, is considered a little excentric, and I'd really rather that didn't get out to your Uncle and Aunt," Damian leaned closer to Harry, "They're rather boring, aren't they?" Harry stared at him for a few moments, unsure of how he should react to this. Finally, he grinned, "Yeah, they are." This was a strange event for him, he usually didn't grin at Privet Drive. In fact, he usually didn't like being there at all. Damian leaned back, "My father you see, he thinks I should know more about... well, these people. Besides the fact that it's good buisness for us, it helps me learn new things," his voice went off into a slightly haughty tone, which reminded Harry of someone he didn't like very much. On this boy however, it was rather ammusing. He chucked. "Learn new things huh? Well, you'll certainly learn new things here, try not to bother Dudley while you're doing it, he gets upset easily. Although I suppose he's not allowed to bother you, you being a guest and all." Harry turned around again, dreading going into that cupboard. "Honestly though, I've got to get back. I'm not angry," he turned back to Damian, "Just so you know. I just don't like people bothering my owl." Damian nodded. "I won't hurt her, I'll just leave my window open for her." Harry nodded and started heading back. "Bye then, until later." Perhaps there would be no later, perhaps there would be no more pleasant conversations, but he had to hope that there might be. Talking to Damian, even briefly, was better than being stuck alone in a cupboard that was way too small for him. Talking to Damian, even briefly, was better than being at Privet Drive starving and angry, left alone to remember things he didn't like. Somehow, some of his anger was gone, he was... feeling a bit better. Maybe there were good muggles out there, Harry had been begining to doubt it. Matt - Nomad For Damian the next few days were certainly interesting. He'd disovered exactly how a 'telephone' worked, simply by observing the horse woman using it. He had found himself inadvertantly fascinated by the oven that the muggles used, electricity was certainly very powerful seeing as it could run in more than one room at once, he was quite certain it must be in every house too... Maybe this was part of some sort of anciant inate magic which had been passed down... Surely muggles couldn't have invented something so powerful? Then again, he was always underestimating muggles. He had taken to watching their 'television' which Dudley was glued to as often as he was glued to him. The way that the fat boy watched him was beginning to really creep Damian out... But despite this Draco was drawn to Harry, who he had not seen since he had left his room... He was beginning to worry... was the boy-who-lived back in that... cupboard under the stairs? He shuddered, he hoped not. Then again, maybe there was something he didnt know which muggles practised against their relatives. He couldn't believe it... but... he wanted to if Harry Potter was being treated so badly. He checked himself over in the mirror, double checking his hair and shirt, before he headed downstairs, treading as carefully as he could, knowing that Harry could be under there. For once his caution wasn't need though as he wandered into the kitchen to see his nemesis by the oven, frying bacon and eggs and waffles and adding a little bit of maple syrup to the mix. Draco was shocked, Harry could cook? Even though the other wizard’s forehead was crinkled in concentration, it still seemed strange to see Harry making anything with such expertise. Harry was horrible at potions! How on earth was he succeeding on cooking on a muggle implement? “Hurry up, boy, Dudder’s is getting hungry.” Petunia simpered as Dudley began to complain. “Yes Aunt Petunia.” Harry said distractedly, flipping over some of the bacon so that the whole lot became a nice warm brown. “That’s not hurrying!” Vernon Dursley roared as he clutched at the cutlery and Draco noticed the way Harry flinched and paled at the deafening sound. “Sorry about this, Damian.” Petunia lent across the table to speak to him as he sat down in his now normal seat, “The boy’s just being troublesome again.” Vernon’s chair slid back and the sound on the floor made Draco wince. The maddened glint in the man’s eyes though made him want to vomit. What was he thinking of doing? It was like the bloodlust that Draco had seen in the eyes of some of the deatheaters… Was Harry…? Would Vernon? “Ready!” Harry exclaimed, his voice slightly croaky. Draco noticed the bloodshot of his green eyes and the way the skin had sallowed, drawn tight over Harry’s defined bone structure. If it wasn’t for the unhealthy pallor of the skin he would have looked beautiful. Delicate. But beautiful. But then Damian was brought back into the kitchen, away from Draco’s thoughts and leaving him to negotiate with the deliciously made breakfast that Harry had prepared for them, “Thank you.” He said with a smile to offer to the boy, but he noticed that Harry’s eyes looked unfocused and his hand was to his head, “Are you alright there?” He tried to sound less concerned than he was but failed. Either Harry was feeling the burden of his scar or he was ill. What if he was really ill? “Don’t fret over him, he’s just playing up for some scraps,” Petunia explained in a jovial yet conspiratorial tone. “Well he’s not getting any!” Vernon spat between mouthfuls that showed through his teeth and splattered over his chins. Draco’s mouth curdled into a sneer. Manners were never far from a Malfoy’s heart. They were ingrained into their souls through lesson upon lesson of propriety and such. This man was certainly in need of a better education and Draco despised the inappropriateness of the cook not being invited to eat, especially when it was quite clear that Harry hadn’t eaten in a while. Not knowing quite why, he resolved to save Harry some food every meal time. In case he needed it. * Harry swayed slightly, trying to smile once to Damian before he turned to his uncle, “What now?” He knew the answer already but initiative would hurt him more than obeying an order. “You’re to do the garden. When you get back there’ll be a list on the counter for you to do by supper,” Aunt Petunia’s highly tuned voice churned in his head and he felt the dizziness sweep over him. “Yes Aunt Petunia.” He murmured, not wanting to risk saying anything else and turned to the garden, the heat and the merciless task ahead of him. He didn't want to fight. He didn't have the energy to even glare properly at his cousin like he normally would have. That was the cupboard though. It sapped your energy and starved your soul relentlessly. He had taken to playing his game again... 'How high can I count before I pass out?'. With a shuddering rasp that rattled through his chest and richoetted off his ribs, he settled into the garden chores. Knowing that he'd be lucky if he finished by lunch time with the amout of weeding he'd have to do. Weeds. Muggle weeds were used in so many wizarding potions... Especially this one, he wasn't sure of it's name but he remembered Snape ranting about how to look out for its wide, circular leaves for their potions as they only grewin non-magical land... And dandelion hooks. They were meant to be good too. He had tried to read about those before he had been locked up. With a sigh he gave up thoughts of potions. Even if he did collect as many as there were in this garden. He would never be able to keep them fresh for school. Even so he gently put them to one side, thinking that it might come to him, a way to keep them. Then he could give them to Snape and... and... What? He would stop being a horrible, many faced git? Not likely. He looked up at the house to see concerned blue eyes peering through the kitchen window. Damian. Damian was odd. There was something about him that was just entirely too familiar, though he wasn't sure how. He didn't know if he wanted to know how. The other boy's aura seemed different to any one else's in the house. Though that could be for a number of reasons. Harry blinked, the eyes were still watching him but there was a leering, menacing Dudley coming up beside. Harry's eyes widened and he hurried to busy himself in the garden. He didn't want Dudley to think he was... He didn't want to be hurt again. He didn't think he even had enough inate magic to heal him like it had when he was younger. But then again. He'd have to warn Damian. Dudley was used to just taking what he wanted and if that expression only moments was anything to go by... He wanted Damian. Stormy is Editing "Hello Damian," came a voice from behind Damian, and he turned to look at the pudgy face of Dudley. The boy thoroughly disgusted Draco, and just looking at him made Draco want to vomit.“Hello Dudley, or was it Dudders?” Draco smirked. Dudley scowled at Draco and started clenching his fists. “Dudley, my name is Dudley, and you should remember that,” Dudley said between clenched teeth. Draco leaned on the sink, now looking at a much more unpleasant sight than Harry Potter doing weeding. He shrugged at Dudley. “Well, sometimes I get confused, since neither your father nor your mother call you Dudley. Well, I guess,” Draco thought for a moment. “My father calls me Dudley,” Dudley protested. Draco looked down, he had looked up at the ceiling when thinking, and his smirk remained on his face. “Yes, I was just coming to the conclusion that he does, on occasion, call you Dudley. Now, what was it you wanted?” Draco rather enjoyed making fun of people, watching them squirm under his gaze was a favorite pastime. Too bad Dudley seemed to be the same sort of person. “I wanted to know if you’d like to go for a walk around town, I can show you the sights.” Draco considered this. He was here to look around the muggle world, he should be taking in their little town as well. “Well, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to come,” Dudley said, turning away from Draco in a huff. Draco snorted. “Little patience does a person some good, don’t you think?” he said, the barest hint of a grin on Draco’s face. This child really didn’t know how to get what he wanted, did he? “So are you coming?” Dudley asked, turning his face back towards Draco, a small grin on his face. There was something about that grin that made Draco go on guard. This boy didn’t just want to show Draco around, he wanted something else. Question was, what was it he wanted out of Draco? Draco nodded his head cautiously, “Yes,” he said slowly, then shrugged, there was nothing this boy could throw his way he couldn’t handle, “yes, I’ll go, it would do me some good to get out of the house for a bit. However, I have to get back before lunch, I have some things to do in the afternoon.” “Oh, that’s no fun, I’m usually out all day,” Dudley whined as he turned his head back in front of himself, and started walking out of the room. “Well, I can’t imagine what you’d want to do inside the house, but it’s your time. You’ll have to pay attention to the way we go then, ‘cause I won’t be walking you back.” Draco rolled his eyes, what was he, three or something? “That’s fine, I’ll be able to figure my way back. I may not be from around here, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of finding my way.” He took one last glance out the window before leaving. Harry was still weeding, but he looked on the verge of collapse, swaying slightly and, was it Draco, or did he seem to be talking to himself? Draco shrugged, there was nothing he could do for the boy without looking out of place, and the best he could do was try to feed him a bit more, and keep his eye out for him. He just hoped he lived through the day. “Are you coming or what?” Dudley called from the front room, and Draco turned away from the window again. “Yeah, I’m coming,” he called back, walking to the waiting Dudley, trying to keep his face from showing disgust as he followed him out of the house. M The sun was bright and hot. Draco couldn’t stop thinking of what he could be doing with the beautiful summer day instead of following the ugly muggle around. He could be on his broom enjoying the wind through his hair, taunting that good for nothing Sergo who lived behind his parents land. He could be collecting rare potions ingredients for some of the potions he’d been hoping to try out. Actually, even spending time with Crabbe and Goyle, just hanging out and talking at them would be better than this.“What’s taking you so long? Come on, I want to show you something important.” Draco felt the chill of shadow fall upon him and realized that Dudley was now leading him down a narrow concrete path between two run down buildings. He stopped, crossing his arms. “What sort of important thing could possibly be down there,” he asked doubtfully, scanning the area. There were crumpled bits of trash about. Then a smell wafted down on a gentle warm breeze from the large green metal container Dudley seemed to be heading for. Was Dudley trying to lead him to some sort of dump? “What a stench.” He felt his nose crinkle as he grimaced. “It’s just the dumpster,” Dudley commented, “come on, just a bit more in. You have to see this. It’s important.” At this point Draco was fairly sure something was up. I mean he could only think of a few reasons to lead someone into this type of area. He stood right where he was and thought the situation over. It was a good place to bully someone, beat them up, steal something from them, threaten them, but why which of these was Dudley’s purpose? Since he wasn’t supposed to use magic he would have to outwit or physically outdo Dudley, not that he thought either one would be particularly difficult. He could walk away, but Malfoys didn’t walk away. No, he couldn’t do that. If Dudley wanted to have a power struggle in this stinky place then Draco would give him one. “It better be important,” Draco finally moved forward. “I don’t care to spend my time in stinky places for fun.” He thought he was prepared for anything, but he still go the breath knocked out of him when Dudley slammed him face first into the brick wall at the end of the alley. “Hey guys, wanna have some fun,” Dudley spoke loudly, but didn’t shout. Draco hadn’t notice anyone else in the alley. * Harry watched blearily from the corner of his eye as Dudley lead Damian out of the house and down the sidewalk. They were going toward the part of town Dudley and his friends hung out in. A group of thugs was what they were, threatening people, stealing, damaging property and people too. Was he taking Damian to meet them? Harry wiped sweat from his forehead so it would stop trickling into his eyes and looked back at the garden. He’d finished the section nearest, so he moved on to the next. His eyes caught on the weeds he’d set to the side. They were already wilting, that figured. His mind went back to the look on Dudley’s face as he’d approached Damian. He hadn’t tried anything yet. Tonight he would have to find some way to warn the boy. Tonight… he stood suddenly his mind suddenly realizing what might be happening. Tonight might be too late. He glanced at the garden, but there was no choice. He couldn’t let Dudley hurt Damian. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about it, but he did. Forgetting his exhaustion he ran from the house, tearing down the sidewalk like there was a dementor on his tail. Matt - Nomad The alley was dank and cold and the world seemed to have stopped revolving. Or was it revolving too fast? Draco wasn't sure what had happened. He wasn't sure when he found himself pressed up to the rough, grainy wall, nor when he had his arms pinned down by the bulk of one of Dudley's companions. He wasn't sure when they had first punched him to shut up his rational reasons for why they should let him go. He wasn't sure when the blood had burst into his mouth, nor when he had become so dizzy. He wasn’t sure of anything except that terror was flooding into his limbs and yet there was no way for him to free himself of it. This wasn’t normal. Malfoy’s didn’t do fear. Not like this. * Harry was running. He had to make sure… He had to make sure Dudley didn’t hurt Damian. He didn’t know Damian. He had spoken to him once. All he knew was that Dudley could not be allowed to have what he wanted. Especially if Harry was right and he wanted nothing more than to hurt him, break him… The youngest Dursley could do what he liked to Harry… But fuck the bumblebee he could not be allowed to… do Damian Malloy. Round the corner. Passed the newspaper agent. They usually hung out in the alleyway behind the local pub right? God he hoped so… If he was wrong… He sped around the next corner… * "Come on! You don't really want to do this..." tight voiced murmurs were spilling out into the gloom. A cry, weak and dying, crawled from underneath an indented door, "Is little Damian unsure? Is this bitch a pussy?" The boys about him were laughing and laughing and laughing, their maniacal laugh tightening around his senses and drowning him. What was going to happen to him? * Keep running Harry. Ignore the pain in your side. Ignore the pain in your chest. Ignore the blurs at the corners of your vision. Ignore it. Ignore it. Keep going. Don’t stop. This is quidditch and Damian is the snitch that’s in dire peril of getting caught by the Slytherins. Gotta keep going. Don’t stop. Not for an instant. * "Please you don’t… don’t…” The words were snatched away as the wind was knocked out of him. Behind a dirty, dented white car... there was a brick in the wall on the far side, just above the bins… It was chipped around the edges and the blackish tint it held reminded him of burnt umber… There was graffiti decorating the bricks around it but that one was clean and untainted… * Only another four streets. They had to be in that dumpsite. If they weren’t. Harry shook his head and concentrated on the road ahead. Red man, stop and make sure you don’t get knocked down by a car. Time ticks slowly and the little man is still red. Buses and car and lorries cascade past him but he can’t do anything yet. Seconds are everything. * "C'mon whore, be good for me." "No...” The brunette head was turned away, tears forming in his eyes which had always refused to melt before… His hands pressed weakly against his attacker’s chest, "Please don't..." "Whores don't get choices baby. Undo me." A small yelp escaped as he was smashed into the wall again, slender hands fumbled with the buttons of the others demanding shadow. "Don't do this... please... Not like this... please?" the boy was trembling with silent tears. Roughly his body was flipped over and his back turned to the other. The words fluttered over his lips in noiseless sounds. * A little faster as the next street opens out into a desolate street. Two and a half streets left. He has to be right about this. The place couldn’t be any where else. Where else could Dudley take someone like Damian to… * Rape him? Were they going to rape him? "Don't worry baby, I'll go gentle on a bitch like you. Man you like rag doll, so helpless..." the fat boy was laughing slightly, running his hands down over the other. "So good. You’ll be a good boy. Don't fail me." "Not like this." His frame was once again thrown into the wall. Blood snaked down his chin. His father… * Harry’s energy was flaring back to life as adrenalin kicked in and he lifted himself through the air. He brought his leg up and drove his foot into the back of his cousin's head, spinning as he did so. He silently thanked Sirius for the time so long ago when they had sparred for a whole day during the holiday... Landing heplaced himself low to the ground and prepared. He didn't remember much about what to do on the martial arts front, but he remembered people talking to him abot it, watching it. He didn't have the strength normally but now he needed it. Damian slid to the floor with his eyes wide with surprise and terror as Dudley swayed on his feet, letting him go. It was sheer dumb luck that he had made it here on time... By the look of it... And for the first time he recognised the presence of the other boys, Dudley's friends... His tormenters from his childhood. He had to escape with Damian before things lost control. Magic could save them easily but... Harry centred himself and felt for his core. Laws inhibited the use of wand magic... And they could detect a wizard's wand. But could they find his soul energy? He didn't want to find out if he could help it but... He saw the murderous glint in the eyes of the others. Maybe he wouldn't have a choice. Stormy is Editing Harry Potter took a deep breath, and using the adrenaline he had gathered while he was running, he thought with all of his might, ‘STOP!’He didn’t think it would work, in fact he expected it to not work, so when every person in the ally stopped short, he was surprised. At least, every person stopped except for Damian, who was still on the ground, his eyes now blearily looking at Harry. They weren’t focused, Harry could tell, and when he took a step towards him they got wide and he shook his head emphatically, putting a hand up to stop Harry from getting close. “Damian?” Harry said softly, trying to get him to focus, “Damian? It’s me, Harry,” he didn’t know what made him say his name, but he hoped it would help the other boy to focus. Now that there was no one moving in the alley, he could feel his energy draining out of him. Damian didn’t seem to recognize him still, so Harry kept talking, “Harry Potter, I’m the one who talked to you a few days ago? I cooked breakfast this morning,” he kept talking, every once in a while looking around himself to see if anyone was moving yet. “Harry… Potter?” Damian said uncertainly. Harry nodded. “That’s right, Harry Potter, from under the stairs, you know? The owl?” Damian shook his head again. “No owls please, absolutely not, no, don’t need an owl sent thank you,” he mumbled, and he closed his eyes, opening them once more to actually focus on Harry. “No owls sent?” Harry thought that was a strange way of talking, unless one was a wizard or something. He didn’t figure Damian was, since he didn’t go all crazy when he’d heard Harry’s name. Damian’s eyes completely focused finally, and he stared at Harry in fright. “What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice shaky. He looked past Harry at the frozen people. His eyes got a touch wide. “What did you do to them?” Harry shook his head. “Don’t know, they just did that on their own,” Harry said, holding out a hand to Damian. “Come on, lets get you out of here.” “Bull Potter,” Damian snapped in a way that seemed all too familiar, “you know people don’t just freeze on their own.” Harry looked at him, a kind of chill going through himself, but he tried to just brush it off. After all, muggles would say that too. “I don’t know what happened to them, they just froze. Now you need to get out of here before anyone sees.” Harry wiggled his hand a bit in front of Damian, who shook his head, and looked up at Harry, his eyes a shade of frightened. “They were going to… to… weren’t they?” Damian’s voice was barely a whisper. Harry nodded. “Yeah, but they aren’t anymore, can you stand?” Something in Damian’s eyes set, and he wiped a hand across his mouth. He nodded and took Harry’s hand. “Yeah, I can stand,” he looked at Harry again, and gave a small smile. “Um… thanks?” Harry pulled Damian up and nodded. “Yeah, it’s no problem, let’s go, and quickly, I don’t think they’ll stay like that for much longer.” He pulled Damian away from the alley, and they hurried back towards Privet Drive. ‘If they get unstopped now, we’ll just have to hope we’re far enough away that we can get home.’ Harry could feel the exhaustion coming up for him, and he saw the world tilt oddly. 'Please, please just let me get him back to Privet Drive, please,' he thought to himself, gritting his teeth as he helped Damian back to the one place he didn't want to go. M Damian had never thought there'd be a day when he would want to go home this badly. After all, it wasn’t as if home was all that fantastic of a place. Sure, it was big, and there were things to do, but it got lonely there a lot and his father was so strict. The muggle world, however, had already made him homesick, and now… Well, now he was walking along next to a Harry Potter he barely recognized. This was not the Potter from school, who was always choosing the wrong friends and making Draco look bad. This Potter had just saved him from being… Did a name make that much difference? Or was it just that Harry thought he was a muggle. Protector of muggles Harry Potter, still, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t like he would have done the same for any of his family. Draco was fairly sure he wouldn’t have.What was with Potter’s family anyhow? Stowing him under the stairs, calling him a criminal, while their son actually was a criminal, what were they thinking? Draco shivered as he thought of Dudley and glanced at Harry, who swayed and fell to the ground with a sudden crunch. “Potter?” Draco bent over him and shook him, “Potter!” Harry’s skin was hot to his touch, and looked red, too red actually. A set look fixed itself in Draco’s eyes. Enough was definitely enough. He was not going back to those Dursley’s with their poor manners, ugly muggle house and violent son. He hated muggles, had always hated muggles, and yes, okay, maybe they did have some powerful things like electricity but that didn’t mean they could do whatever they wanted to him. Looking both ways to make sure no one was looking, he liberated his wand from it’s hiding place and did nothing, because his wand wasn’t there. His wand was back at home. His father had forbid him to take it as he was certain the Dursleys would be upset if they saw it. It didn’t matter however, a wand was not necessary for summoning the Knight bus, and with a distinct bang the bus landed in front of them. “Welcome to the Knight bus…” Stan started, but Draco interrupted. “I don’t really have time for all that alright? Can you help me get him on the bus?” Stan came out of the bus and took one side while Draco took the other and the two of them helped Harry onto the bus. For his part Harry moaned softly and mumbled something about finishing the weeding straight away. “It’s Harry Potter, isn’t it? Last time he rode he wouldn’t give me his name. Who are you?” Draco looked down his nose at him, about to say that if he didn’t recognize him he needed to get his eyes check, then he remembered his appearance. “Damian, Damian Malloy, since I’m sure you’ll ask. Now, here are the sickles,” but he didn’t actually have his money with him. Had it dropped in the alley? He turned to Harry and dug around in his pockets coming up with a money pouch. Considering his situation, Potter certainly had plenty of money on him. Draco extracted the correct amount and pushed the pouch back into Harry’s pocket. “I’m sorry Aunt Petunia, I’ll be right there,” Harry mumbled, turning so that he nearly fell from the chair. “Stop that Potter,” Draco pulled him back up, then handed the sickles to Stan. “There are the sickles. We would like to go to…” Where should he go? Draco looked around the bus noting that there were six other passengers. “I’ll let you know in a few minutes.” He couldn’t take Potter home with him, could he? Draco tried to imagine walking into Malfoy mansion with the unconscious Potter. Then his father’s questions about just what he was doing home came to him and he decided that would be a bad idea. The Leaky Cauldron might be okay, but they were bound to run into a bunch of curious onlookers. The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade might be okay, or even better, maybe the Hog’s Head? Then again, what if there was something really wrong with Potter and he needed a healer. Maybe it should be St. Mungo’s then, or even Hogwarts, but would Madam Pomfrey be around this time of year. Where did those Weasleys live? Wasn’t it called the Burro? He could take Potter there. What a nightmare that would be. Well, they shouldn’t recognize him and they’d be sure to take care of Potter. “The Burro,” he told Stan, the word tasted bad in his mouth, “take us there.” Matt - Nomad "The Burro? Do you mean the Burrow? The Weasley place?" Stan was grinning with a conspiritorial look in his eye. Draco wasn't sure he liked that look... Something about it... "You're in on a Wheeze right?" The bus attendant peered at Harry, "He's been got by a Wheeze and you need-" "Uh... yeah... something like that..." "Right. We'll go right there! There's nothing worse that getting a wheeze! My uncle Cuthbert you see took one of them canary cremes and then mixed it with their frigiggle gum and tonne tongue toffee which didnt work so well together and so he ended up popping back and forth and back and forth between shapes and his tongue was hanging out like disdoyastheewatimean and giggling and choking and..." Draco nodded politely and wandered back to his area, where Harry was lying, curled up into a fetal position on the bed, shivering and then frezzing ever few alternate seconds. Draco couldn't help but wonder how he would deal with this once they all returned to school... He had been saved by his rival... Would that have happened if Harry had known who he was? He knew that Harry lived in hell. Far from the selfexultant living that he had envisaged. Did Dumbledore know? Should he tell the senile old fool? How would he act around Harry knowing what he knew? He could never deal out retorts based on a life he knew didnt exist. Draco was in turmoil. And looking at the fevered flush that grazed Harry's cheeks... He guessed it was the same for the boy too. Stormy is Editing The Knight Bus is no one's idea of a fun ride. Between stops Draco had to prevent himself from throwing up, several times. It was hard work each time, and he kept hearing Harry moaning as the bus shifted and swayed. Draco had placed a blanket around him and had to regularly tuck him back in, as the bus would rock the blanket off of him. Draco had pulled himself together as he watched Harry, straightening his clothes and making himself look as normal as possible, his hair neat once more and his shirt tucked in again. He could feel bruises coming in in several places, and he couldn't help but wince himself as the bus turned sharp corners and set his side on fire.It took forever, yet no time at all, for them to be stopping at, "The Burrow!" as announced by that annoying Stan person. Draco sneered and picked Harry up in his arms to carry him off the bus. He looked around as the sun flickered off the rickety looking building in front of him. He had to keep himself from vomiting at the smell coming from the house, it smelled like home cooked meals that a family would sit together to eat. That mean dependency to Draco, and it made him ill. Would he manage to get through this after all? Should he just drop Harry off and leave? He looked down at the pained expression on Harry's face and decided against it. No, he'd take care of him, as a favor for him taking care of Draco. Draco did not owe people, that was a rule of thumb in the Malfoy household. Debts made a person weak, and a Malfoy was *not* weak. With these thoughts, he hefted Harry into his arms properly again, and started the walk to the front door, if one could call that scrap of wood up the porch a door. He was trying to figure out how he was going to knock when the door flew open, and that terrible red haired woman looked out at him. "Who are you?" she demanded and Draco blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Not important, here, take Harry," he said, his voice catching somewhat as he lifted the body towards Mrs. Weasley. She took one look at Harry and flew into a tantrum of excitement. "Harry! What happened to him? Is he alright? Come inside dear!" and she opened the door and ushered Draco inside. He found that it would be incredibly vindictive to do something horrible like tell her how incredibly nieve she was being, but he decided it would be better if he didn't, for Harry's sake. Even if she did make him shudder to be called a "dear". He brought Harry in and looked around the incredibly cluttered household, wondering where he was supposed to put the boy. The woman made the decision, calling for her youngest son in a tone that would allow for no argument. Draco held in a snicker at that, his mother would have sent word by owl or wand flick, not calling at the top of her lungs. Just goes to show what kind of upbringing Weasley had had. When he thundered down the stairs, and took one look at Harry's prone body, he rushed over as quickly as he could, looking down at him in surprise and fear. "Mum, what happened?" he gasped out, looking up at her, and then looking at Draco. "Who's this?" he asked suspiciously. "None of that, go upstairs and fetch my medicine bag, and then return right away. This boy brought Harry to us, and I intend to make sure he get's proper treatment." Ron stared at Draco suspiciously, and Draco considered smirking at him, but decided that wouldn't be in his best interest. Draco felt sick still, and his body was finally catching up to the horrors of what had happened to him just hours before. He looked at Mrs. Weasly in surprise, as he found himself on his knees, reseeing his breakfast in ways he didn't want to think about just moments before he passed out on the ground right next to the mess he'd made. M "Oh dear!" Mrs. Weasley called for Fred and George, because it was never any use calling for one or the other. When they showed up as well, full of questions, she had all she needed to set things into order."One of you move this boy into one of your beds, the other take Harry up to the other bed in your room." When Ron showed up with her medicine bag she hurried back up the stairs after Fred and George. "Ron, clean up the floor." "What? Mum, that's... gross." "I don't have time to argue right now Ron. Get the floor cleaned up and then you can come up and check on Harry. We're putting him and his friend in Fred and Georges room." "Friend?" Ron's voice held plenty of doubt, but Mrs. Weasley didn't have time to address that detail. Once she was upstairs, she looked over Harry first. "Poor dear, one of you get some broth and the other a cool damp towel," she directed Fred and George letting the two of them work out who would do which. This was the best way to handle them in emergencies. Poor Harry was dehydrated and half starved. She couldn't imagine what that aunt and uncle of his might have been thinking allowing him to fall into such a state. She pulled out a hydration potion and held it to his lips, skillfully sending it into his mouth and down his throat. If there was one thing she knew it was how to get a potion down a sleeping child. Next she looked over Harry's friend. There was no way to know who the child was, but he'd brought Harry to safety so he must be a friend. He appeared to be suffering from shock and exhaustion. That was easy enough to treat, but she couldn't imagine what might have happened to put the boy in such a state. She tucked him into the bed, washing his face and forehead with a slight smile. There was no need for a potion there. Perhaps once he woke he would need a calming potion to keep him from falling right back into this state. For now he was fine. Fred was feeding broth to Harry and George had disappeared. At least she was pretty sure of that. "Thank you Fred, that's all. I can take care of him from here." "George, mum, not Fred. Can't you tell." "George then, run along." There was no use arguing. They were impossible those two. At least they seemed to get along. Matt - Nomad The stranger mumbled something in his sleep as Mrs Weasley came in to check on them. She hadn't failed to notice the dark bruise on the side of the unknown guest's neck, nor the green, dusty stains on the back of his clothing, as if he had been pressed up against a dirty wall or fence. She frowned, wondering how on earth Harry had managed to become mixed up with someone who none of them knew and yet who obviously knew them. Harry was a mess. She turned her eyes from the resting face of Damian to the taut, skeletal visage of her surrogate son. "What happened to you..." she found herself wondering aloud. She had a horrible feeling in her chest as she tried to grasp the appearence of the boy. Despite having known that Harry had never liked th Dursley's she would never have thought they could have done this to him. Surely the bloodties... the family bond... she shuddered, if it was abuse it was no wonder that the wizarding saviour was so unused to kindness and relied on Ron and Hermione so much. Abuse. She shuddered again, she hadn't wanted to give Harry a full inspection until he was awake and knew where he was... She hadn't seen any blood so she didn't think he was in any imminent danger the only problem was the fact that wizards like Harry... powerful wizards... when so obviously hurt and confined... their magic was prone to wildness, erratic behaviour and could potentially eat him away inside. Maybe the stranger had soothed the danger away. She couldn't be sure. All she knew was that Harry's skin was cold, clammy and yet he looked fevered and all around the house objects were shivering. "I'm sorry father..." The stranger said very clearly through the midst of his mumbles, "I don't want to be like you... I had to help him... I..." And then he screamed. The same way she had heard Harry scream after the triward tournament in a nightmare. She learched across the room, pulling the boy into her arms to try and sooth him. She was the sort of woman who didn't care about who or why, she couldn't bare to see such human suffering... "Dudley... Don't... You dont... HARRY!" the boy was still screaming as his eyes broke open and filled with the emotions of any victimised child... fear, shock and misery... "It's ok... shhhh.... It's ok... You're safe, no one's going to hurt you." Mrs Weasley rocked the boy in her embrace, letting him find himself and as the tears fell... unbeknownst to her, Draco Malfoy was crying, his face buried into her shoulder. Stormy is Editing Draco Malfoy cried. He felt as though everything that was terrible in the world was crashing around him. He could hear his fathers voice, cold in his mind. "What do you think you are doing boy? You're allowing this blight on our world live? You're helping him? What has happened to you?" He could hear the way his voice would sound, the scorn that would drip from every word. He could feel the unpleasant gaze of his fathers eyes on him. "You are a Malfoy, are you not? You are *my* son? I thought I raised you to bring honor, not disrespect or disgrace, upon this most distinguished household. What do you think you are doing, consorting with the enemy? Protecting that which is not yours to protect?" Draco shuddered, crawling into the arms that were holding him so protectively, and his eyes only saw his father's disaproving gaze."My son!" his mother's voice now, shocked, uncertain, not unhappy, but not pleased either. "What are you doing? Do you not know what your father has done for you? How could you ruin this chance for him? Why are you not helping, why are you causing more problems? Did you forget what you were sent out to do? How could you do this to him? To me?" Draco saw her upset face, her delicate hands wringing together in fear of what her husband might do. She was always like that, trying to preserve the careful balance between herself and her son, with their owner, Lucius. "No, mother, I can't, I can't..." Draco moaned, and his father's image came up again. Draco burried his head in the shoulder in front of him, and he could feel, vaguely, the hand that was gently stroking his back. "Are you not a Malfoy? You are my son! Behave as though you were! What is with those foolish tears? Stand up, do not take such opposition as a sign that you can behave like a coward, or a weakling! Behave like a Malfoy!" "NOOO! I'm not you!" he screamed, and then he felt something snap inside of himself, and the world came into focus. He was being held by the most comforting arms in the world. Those arms felt as though the could shoulder the responsibilities of every creature on the planet, and still have room for a few more. They held him in a way he had never been held before, and a part of him wanted to stay there, warm in that embrace, but another part knew, knew he had to stop this silly charade. "I appologize," Draco said, and he backed away from Mrs. Weasley. She let him go, but her eyes betrayed her uncertainty. "You could stay a little longer, I don't mind," her voice was soothing, and Draco knew what it could be like to have a homely mother. What it could be like to have a mother that wanted to care for her children, instead of protect them from their father. It was something he had never had use for, and he never wanted to be indebted to it. "No, I can't," he said, and pulled away completely, and although she didn't want to let him do so, she did. "Well, now that you've had a good cry, perhaps you could tell us something more?" she looked him over critically. "Something terrible happened to the two of you, and I'd like to know who I'm to go to with the report." Draco wiped at his eyes and then looked at her. "Report?" he aske uncertainly. She nodded. "Yes, the report of abuse. Do I need to go to Muggle or Magical? Because this is certainly abuse, between the two of you being scratched and bruised up, and Harry being beyond the point of exhaustion I just don't know who to talk to. This is utterly rediculous. I can't believe that someone would allow him to become that tattered up. No person in their right mind would return you two to that muggle household. I just need to know if I have to talk to some kind of muggle facility or if I can do this the way I prefer, the magical way." Draco shook his head. "I would assume you could do this the magical way. I need to be leaving though, I can't..." he paused, where did he think he was going? His wand was back at that damn muggle household, and he couldn't borrow Harry's. All of his other belongings were there as well, and he couldn't just appear out of nowhere and come back to the house. What had he been thinking? He should have sent Harry to the Weasleys and not himself. He put his head in his hands. What was he to do? M That was when Ron arrived in the room. He glared at Draco, "Right, you look better now, who are you?" Mrs. Weasley stood and turned to stare at her son."Ron, that is no way to treat a guest. If you can't be civil then get out." "Mum, you don't know who he is. He came in here with Harry and Harry's a mess. How do you know he didn't do that to Harry?" "Ron," Mrs. Weasley's voice raised to new levels. "This boy did not do anything to harm Harry. I know that and how I know is none of your business!" Draco watched this exchange with some amusement, but entertaining as it was, he couldn't go on. "I'm sorry, I'm causing too much trouble. I'd better go." Now Mrs. Weasley wheeled on him. "No, you most certainly will not. You have been through a lot too and you aren't leaving this house until I've gotten at least one good meal into you." Silently she added, 'and gotten to the bottom of all this.' "Ron, sit with Harry for a bit will you, I hate to leave him alone. Now dear," and she put an arm around Draco's shoulder's which was one of the oddest feelings ever, "let's go see what we can find in the kitchen. You just said yourself you couldn't leave. Let's not rush things." * Ron sat beside Harry sulking as his mother took the enemy downstairs. He didn't know why he didn't like the boy. There was just something about the boy and that smirk he'd seen on the boys face. It was familiar, way too familiar. Then there was the way he talked all uppity like he was better than them or something. "I can't believe Mum is feeling sorry for him," he told Harry. "Who would you know who'd know where we lived, or even know our names? You never said anything about someone like him and he's not from Hogwarts." His head was starting to hurt. If only 'Mione was there. She'd know how to sort it out. There was nothing she couldn't figure. Well, nothing that could be found in a book anyhow. This might not really be a book sort of thing. Still... "Don't worry Harry, I'll get it sorted out." He bolted upstairs to write a quick note out and send Pig off with it. Pig was more than happy to go. Then he rushed back down. There was no use getting his mum any madder than she already was, and she had told him to watch Harry. When he got back downstairs however, Harry was no longer in the bed. He sure hadn't looked likely to move when Ron had left. He searched the room, but could find no sign of Harry at all. Matt - Nomad Harry was floating. He could feel energy twisting through his body and sparkling amongst the blood. He could feel his own magic surrounding him in a cloak that smoothed his fears aside even as bloated faces and angry voices threatened his calm. Words were being mumbled and they seemed so familiar as vacant memories filtered into his mind. He could see forests that stretched up into the sky and a river gushing through the trees. There was no noise. Silence rustled through the leaves and the water sprinkled noiselessly over turned silver rocks that were glistening in a sun that did seem to exist. He was moving between visions of the forest and river when he seemed to be flooded with lights, he could see stars sliding past him but their lights seemed to fill him. Slicing through his skin and seeping into his soul which relished the heat and the way he suddenly felt complete. He was exhausted. Fatigue beginning to take over from the heat and energy of before. He felt strange... He felt alive because he was so drained. Did that make any sense? Slowly he could feel himself sinking and he opened his eyes blearily... With a cry he found himself in the air, high above the Burrow. The Burrow? He began to plummet, fear seeping into his pores as he saw his death rushing up to meet him. Well Voldemort was going to have an easy way through now... Stormy is Editing Draco followed Mrs. Weasley downstairs to the kitchen, where she practically forced him into a chair then went scurrying off to get pots and pans out of drawers."Now dear, why don't you start by telling me how you know Harry?" she said lightly as food started coming out of the cupboards and putting themselves into the pans. Draco had never been allowed into the kitchens at home, and so he'd never seen anyone cook magically before. It was quite an experience for him, and he found himself fascinated. When he didn't answer her, she turned to glance at him. "Whatever is the matter?" she asked, seeing the interested look on his face. He blinked and was jerked out of his daze, a faint flush spreading across his face. "Sorry, I've..." he paused then shook his head, "I've never seen anyone cook before," he said finally, tilting his head up in a defiant way. Let her sort that out. She chuckled and nodded a few times. "Well, it's always an interesting sight to see the first time. Harry watched me as well when he first came here. So you were raised by muggles?" She never stopped her questioning, and Draco thought that might be a good excuse to use, so he nodded. "Yes, I've..." he paused, then went for broke, "I had private tutors all my life." Well, if he spun this web of lies tightly enough, no one need ever know who he really was. Mrs. Weasley glanced back at him again. "Really? How interesting, your parent's must be very important people." Draco smirked slightly as he thought about that. What she meant was, your parent's must be very rich, but he wasn't going to return kindness with scorn, not this time. Instead he lost the smirk entirely and nodded. "Yes, they're buisness people. That's how I met Harry you see. I was going to a buisness associate of my father's to spend some time with them, and it turned out to be Harry's family. I didn't expect to meet him that way." Draco did a little acting now, biting his lip in worry and figiting. "I... didn't tell Harry about me knowing who he was. He was so different from how I expected him to be and I didn't think he'd want to know I knew who he was. So.. I didn't tell him..." Draco looked up and pleaded with Mrs. Weasley with his eyes, "Please let me go back to his Aunt and Uncle's, I need them to not suspect me of being his kind... they're very anti-wizard, it could be difficult for my parents if they found out I was as well. And my wand is there... I would hate for them to find it, it could be disastrous." She cooed softly and put a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. "There there, we'll get your belongings from them, don't you worry about that." She sat down across from him and motioned to the plate, "Eat up," and a glass of milk was waved over to him. Draco thought about hesitating, but decided against it, and tucked into the food. That was when they heard a scream from above them. Both of them looked up instinctively, and Draco stood up immediately. "That's Harry!" he gasped, and dashed outside the house, Mrs. Weasley on his heels. What they saw turned their blood cold. Harry was falling down towards them from several heights above the house. Draco wanted to scream, but found he couldn't even do that. Luckily for them all, Mrs. Weasley was good with a wand, and sent a jet of red flying out to catch Harry so he didn't crash into the ground. Draco felt his whole body go limp as he watched Harry float harmlessly down to earth. "Ronald Weasley!" She yelled out into the night air, and Draco fell to his knees. Somewhere his heart had ceased to function properly and he was finding that it's renewed beating was causing him physical pain. That was way too close for his comfort. M Ron heard the scream and ran towards it, which meant that he ran up the stares. When he couldn't find Harry there he scrambled to a window, just in time to see Harry's rescue and to know that he was in for it. He was already on the way back down when his mum screamed his name. How could he face her? What would he say?Really there was no choice, so he went outside and faced his mum. "Ronald Weasley, just where were you when poor Harry went floating out of that room? I asked you to watch him. What were you doing?" Ron glanced at the boy who'd brought Harry to them. He seemed to be having some sort of attack or something. Maybe he'd make a good distraction? "Mum, is he okay?" Mrs. Weasley turned and looked, but her eyes went right back to Ron almost immediately. "He's fine, he's just in shock, from seeing Harry nearly fall to his death. I can't say I blame him. You can't just leave someone unattended when they're sick like that Ron. You'd think I could trust my own son to look after..." Harry moaned from the place she'd set him. His eyes opened causing everyone to run over to check on him. "Damian? Are you okay," Harry mumbled looking at Draco. "What? Ron? Mrs. Weasley? What are you doing here? Are we dead." "No," Draco replied before anyone else got a chance to speak. "Although you very nearly were." He glared at Ron. "I thought this would be a safe place to take you, but it seems it might have been safer to take you home." Ron glared back, "oh yeah? Just were is home huh? I've never seen you before, and if I've never seen you before you shouldn't know about the Burrow." "Well it's too bad I did isn't it? I mean I bring him here and his best friend can't even stay in the room with him more than a few minutes!" "If someone wasn't distracting Mum than she would've been there. Namely you. How do we know you weren't just waiting for us to leave him alone so you could wave your wand and send him into the sky and let him drop?" "Boys!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "That's more than enough. Listen to you two bickering like brothers while Harry is lying on the ground half conscious and confused. Ron, get inside and set the tea kettle to boil again. Damian, help me get Harry back to bed." Matt - Nomad Bickering like brothers? That was an interesting thought... He and Weasley disagreed on things because they were so different but because they held the same things dear. Or at least that's what he had been invited to believe recently but an anonymous letter he'd recieved just before the end of term. At the time he'd been angry... but Mrs Weasley saying it made it seem ever so suddenly incredibly clear. He looked at Harry as Mrs Weasley tucked him into bed having removed him from his arms which had suport the boy saviour up the stairs. "How are you feeling Harry?" she cooed over him as he lay in the bed with his eyes now focusing a little more. "I'm fine..." he started, Draco recognised the tone of a mask suddenly and with suprise. It sounded different to how Harry talked at his home... maybe that was why... And internal mechanism to protect him... Like Draco had the cold-face. But of course Damian didn't have the cold face because if he did he wouldn't be able to be friends with Harry. And he found himself wonderng what had changed to bring them to wear they were now. Mrs Weasley muttered something about tea and chocolate and bustled off calling over her shoulder for Damian to look after Harry and not to take his eyes off him this time. Repressing theurge to correct her and say that it wasn't he who had neglcted the boy-who-lived but her son, he turned to Harry with a small smile, "I guess you're not fine?" "What- I'm..." Harry must have seenthe look in his eye as he lowered his head, "No... I feel...really alive ye really drained..." Draco nodded and they lapsed into silence. He wondered what had happened. Why Harry had.... He didn't know what to think. Stormy is Editing Harry closed his eyes and then looked at Damian. He felt quite certain that this was... this was... well, that Damian shouldn't have known who he was."You knew," he sad finally, a touch of cold anger in his voice. This was what he had hoped Damian *didn't* know. It was completely different here at the Weasley's than at home. At home he was someone who no one relyed on, no one wanted to rely on. At home he was... ignored, always at fault, and generally disliked. Yet, here in worlds that knew magic... his whole life had been paraded around through The Daily Prophet, and on top of that, well, everyone knew who he was. Damian seemed to flinch slightly. "I knew?" he said very softly, not meeting Harry's eyes. Harry nodded, feeling the anger again. "You knew who I was. You knew I was... I am... *who* I am here, to these people!" His voice raised a touch, and he felt like hitting something. Damian's eyes flashed up to Harry in surprise and he gave a soft nod. "I couldn't have... told you I knew, you know? I couldn't have... your Aunt and Uncle wouldn't have allowed me to stay there if I had known, right?" There was something desperate in Damian's voice now, and Harry felt the anger seep out a touch. "You could have said something when we were alone, right?" Damian nodded. "I guess, but I didn't want them to think... well, that I got along with you too well. I tried, sorta, to hint anyway, I mean, about the owl's and such..." Damian trailed off and Harry shook his head. "That doesn't count!" he said fervently. Damain looked like he was trying to figure out words he didn't know how to speak. "I... I..." he looked around the room and shook his head. "I wanted to know who *you* were!" he said finally, his eyes going a bit wide as he said it. "You can't know who someone is until you talk with them, how could I have known who you were, what you were really like, if I had told you I knew who you were? I'm privately tutored at home, I don't go to school with other children, so all I've heard about you were things you could read, or things my friends told me, and stories don't..." he paused, looking somewhat angry himself. "Stories don't tell the whole truth," he finished flatly, looking down, and there was something in his voice that made Harry feel that Damian had discovered something he didn't like, and was very upset by it. Harry felt his anger dissapate completely. "Sorry," he mumbled, "but you have to understand why I'd be angry." Damian nodded, and met his eyes again. "I mean I don't like the Prophet's articles on me, and I certainly don't like the way people seem to think they know me because of it." Damian reached out his hand. "Can we start over then?" he asked, and Harry looked down at it. "Start over?" Harry asked. "Yeah, I'm Damian Malloy, only heir to the Malloy Estate and privately tutored wizard," there was some kind of twisting smirk on his lips that made Harry grin back. Harry took the hand and shook it firmly. "Alright, I'm Harry Potter, also known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, and I personally hate that title. I'm good at Quiddich and am the Seeker for my team at Hogwarts. I have no estate, as my parents died when I was a baby, and therefore I'm also the only heir." Damian grinned now, and shook back, his face lighting up. "Excellent, you going to take care of He Who Must Not Be Named for us all, or are you going to leave the task to the adults? Personally, I think they've got better chances, but my parent's don't agree." Harry shrugged, his hand going back to his bed. "I don't know. I hate him badly enough that I want to kill him, but... I can't imagine *how*." He shrugged and fell back into the bed. "I do know that I'm exhausted and feel like I've been hit by a train though." Damian nodded. "Yeah, you should have rested and yelled at me later," he said with a twist of his lips. Harry shook his head. "I couldn't decide if I wanted to kick you out of here or not," he said honestly, and Damian nodded. "If you had told me to go, I would have. I'm sorry I didn't tell you outright." Harry waved a hand at him dismissively. "It's over, it's over. We've started again, and we'll be better off without the misconceptions. Alright?" Damian nodded, and there was a creeking noise at the door. "I see," came Ron's tight voice, "you tried to pull one over on Harry, decieving him did you?" Harry sighed and shook his head, and Damian rolled his eyes. "Get off it, I wasn't trying to decieve him, I was protecting myself, there's a difference." Ron narrowed his eyes and walked forward to get right into Damian's face. Damian didn't even flinch. "I don't trust you, and therefore, you don't count as a friend." "I don't trust you either, you let Harry out of your sight. You certainly don't count as a friend to me either." Ron looked like he was about to do something drastic, like hit Damian, when Mrs. Weasley came into the room. "Boys," she said harshly, "Don't bother Harry with your bickering." Both Damain and Ron flushed, although Ron's was more apparent. M "Sorry Mrs. Weasley," Damian responded immediately, "sorry Harry." Harry shook his head, but said nothing as Mrs. Weasley encouraged him to eat and drink. That night she set Ron and Damian on shifts watching over Harry to make sure he didn't do anymore unofficial levitating. She'd sent an owl off early on to Dumbledore, explaining the situation. Bright and early the next morning she found an owl waiting politely on the bedroom sill for her to wake and let it in. Molly, Thank you for contacting me. I will go right over and speak with Harry's Aunt and Uncle. Damian Malloy need not worry about his things or his parents. I've sent Professor Snape to deal with the former, and the latter should be at your front door by morning. As classes will resume soon Harry may stay with you and come in with Ron. I appreciate your offer to do so. Damian can either stay with you and ride in as well, or you can send him on early. I need to speak with him before he resumes his private lessons with his parents. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore P.S. I would love to stop by for tea some time, but I'm terribly busy preparing for the new year. Perhaps after classes have started? Mrs. Weasley smiled and set the letter aside. If Albus Dumbledore knew who Damian Malloy was that was good enough for her. As for Ron, she had to have a talk with that boy. He was getting was too old to be acting so childish. She put on her housecoat and headed downstairs humming "Honey Brewin' Time" as she went and planning breakfast in her mind. Matt - Nomad Damian was a strange one harry mused as he watched the other wizard through half lidded eyes. He wasn't like anyone else he knew. So far he had proven himself to be both charming and witty, their banter when Harry was awake making them both smile. He wondered if they'd stay friends once he had to go back to Hogwarts or if they'd drift apart. He knew that he wanted to remain friends, no matter what Ron said about him and it didn't help that whenever Ron was around all his best friend spoke about was how little he trustd the new guest. Hermione had called him on the mobile she had sent him only a few minutes ago and now Damian eemed subdued and was looking at the phone in mild curiousity. "It's just a mobile Damian." He said after a while, "Like a telephone. You saw Petunia use that right?" Damian nodded and frowned, "But it's run on electricity?" "Yeah. S'got a battery which stores the electricity in the back." Harry smiled and saw Damian frown harder still. "But surely electricity isn't that powerful? It can power whole houses! Whole streets!" This time Harry laughed, "You're pure blod aren't you! Electricity is generated using the muggle sciences, chemistry and physics really. It's only powerful because they destroy a whole lot of world." Harry sobered slightly and saw that Damian was as conused as before, "Basically muggles burn things like coal and it becomes electricity." Damian tried to smile but the lack of understanding made his eyes darken until they almost semed to verge on grey. Harry shook his head, "You could ask Mr Weasley. He'd understand better. He loves muggle technology!" Damian's eyes brightened and he relaxed back into the seat he'd only abdicated a few minutes ago. Harry loved this guys mannerisms. they were just funny, the way he reacted, the way he was endlessly curious about things he didn't understand... even the way he was so fast to defend himself when Harry poked fun. He wasn't really sure of who Damian was... There was something that niggled in the back of his head telling him that he knew this guy from somewhere. Deep down he wasn't even sure he'd have tried to be friends with him if they hadn't met at the Dursley's, Damian would be a Slytherin, he didn't know why he thought that... Or maybe a Ravenclaw... But then again... Harry should have been in Slytherin. He decided to voice his opinion, "Did you ever want to go to Hogwarts?" * "Of course I did. I wanted to go and have a life out of the way of my family. But family ties are too difficult to escape and I remained at home." Draco replied with a sigh, knowing he was effectively telling the truth but still allowing Harry to know the lie... that hurt... He wasn't sure why but it did... Stormy is Editing "Family ties, huh?" Harry said, looking down at his hands. Draco looked into his face and saw something flicker across it."Yeah," Draco said, nodding. "Family ties, they're too hard to escape. When people say family ties, they usually mean, like, something that binds people together, but for me..." he trailed off, not quite willing to say what was bothering him. And it was bothering him, mainly because this wasn't a lie. He hated the ties that bound him to his family, he hated how no matter where he went, no matter what he did, his family would always be there to tell him what he was doing wrong. And he would be doing things wrong. "Damian!" Harry's hand was on his arm, and he was shaking him. Draco blinked and looked at him. "Yeah?" he said mildly. Harry let him go and gave a half grin. "You totally weren't listening to me there. Where'd you go?" Draco shrugged. "I was just thinking, what'd you say?" Harry shook his head. "I just said that I knew what you meant. Well, what you mean. People make a big deal out of family ties, but really, they're like nooses, aren't they? Well, maybe not for the Weasley's, they're a good family, but for me..." Harry shrugged. "Having a family is almost more trouble than it's worth. Feel the same way?" Harry grinned at Draco, and Draco felt his mood lighten a little. Who would have thought the "Boy Who Lived" would know about this feeling? "Yeah," Draco said, nodding. "I feel the same way. I know you don't know what it's like for a pureblood, but... well, it's like you're expected to be some way, and if you don't act or behave the way you're expected... well then you're bad, and need punished. Rarely does a pureblood leave the family other than death." Draco shrugged. "And let's just say I'm not in a good position right now." Why had he said that? He was only going to make Harry worry about him. Harry's eyes narrowed. "Are you going to get in trouble with your family over this?" Draco thought about lying, but he felt that likely, Harry would know he'd done so. "Yes, probably." He shrugged to try to make it seem like less of a deal. "But it'll be alright, I'm an only child, my parent's won't kill me for this." He said it lightly, but Harry picked up on the implications right away. "You think your parent's would kill you if you did something suitably wrong?" Harry's voice was soft, but Draco could hear him clearly. "Don't be silly Harry," he said dismissivly, "Why would they kill their only son?" Harry shrugged. "They better not. If it looks bad, like they might..." Harry trailed off, then shrugged, "will you at least let me know?" His bright green eyes bore into Draco, and he nodded. Was he ready for that kind of commitment? "You know Harry," Ron said from the door, "I still don't know what you see in him." M "...and I don't know what your problem is." Harry glared at Ron. He was more than a little sick of Ron's attitude, not to mention his constant poking at Damian."My problem is that he lied to you, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's doing it again." Ron stood at the door stubbornly giving Damian such a look of hatred that it made Harry want to punch him. "You never liked him from the beginning, but you haven't even given him a chance Ron. It's not fair to..." Ron cut Harry off. "It's not fair? Well it's not fair no one will listen to me either is it. He's no good and no one's even bothering to listen to what I have to say, you're just forgiving him every little stupid thing he does and..." This time it was Harry who cut Ron off. "And you're just picking on everything he does," Harry's voice was clipped and angry. "You won't give him a chance. If this is the way you really are than maybe we shouldn't even be friends." Total silence took over the room. It was Damian who spoke. "Look, I don't like Ron, but I don't want to mess up your friendship, so..." "You're being too nice, Damian," Harry cut in, which made Damian smirk, but Harry didn't notice. "No, really," the smirk was gone, "you two go to school together and you're friends. I don't want to mess with that." "Sure you don't," Ron's voice echoed his disbelief. "What was so funny a moment ago Damian. What were you smirking about? Finally getting your way aren't you? You don't really want Harry and I to be friends do you?" "Ron, that's just what I'm talking about. Damian's trying to help and you're just making trouble." Harry turned to Damian. "If he's going to be like this all year I'd be better off without him." "There, are you happy now?" Ron screamed at Damian, "I bet you are. I bet..." "Get out!" Harry was standing now, pointing at the door, "get out of my room, leave us alone, leave me alone!" Ron looked from Damian to Harry and back with a heated glare. "Fine," he turned abruptly and left, slamming the door behind him. Harry slumped back onto his bed, shaking. What the hell was wrong with Ron anyhow? Matt - Nomad There were always turning points in life which sucked. Really, deeply, inreversibly sucked. Now was one of those times. Harry was breathing hard, staring at his hands as if glaring at them would make it better. but he had just told Ron to pretty much get out of his life and he'd only just realised what he had done. It wasn't that he wanted Ron back. Far from it. He didn't want Ron to treat him as if his judgements and oppinions on people were second best; he didn't want Ron to feel as if he could dominate his own feelings. That was how he had felt now for too long... As if how he felt was second best... He was sure that the red-headed Gryffindor would come to his senses soon enough but he still felt guilty... And he didn't know why. "You didn't have to do that Harry..." Damian was looking at him in a mixture of awe and amazement and someting else that Harry failed to recognise. Harry nodded, "I guess... But I did, y'know... He shouldn't expect me to only befriend those he excepts. I'd end up with a handful of people... none of which I could trust..." He smiled slightly, "Ron's my best friend and he's only trying to protect me really but... I have to follow my intincts. They keep us alive." * Draco was sure there was an innuendo in there... He half wondered if these instincts of Harry's had told him to keep away from Draco back in first year. He had to ponder... Back then he'd been in a crux... He had been brought up to obey orders from those superior, to scorn those who were inferior in birth and blood, to do whatever was necerssary and never let emotion show. At eleven he had begun to question that obediance but he had still succumbed to it. Maybe that was why Harry had rejected him. Because the darkness had settled over him like a cloak as it nursed him out of childhood. "You're zoning again Damian!" Harry's voice made his jump, startled and he grinned sheepishly. Most un-Draco like. "Sorry." He was serious too and the word felt less alien now he was becoming used to using it more often. It actually felt quite good to feel on a level with someone else, ignoring all the prejudiced he adhered to normally, "You know, I'm kinda glad I ended up in that muggle place..." he said absently, leaning back and tilting his head back so he was looking at the ceiling, "I know things were bad and that we were both in trouble but... I'm glad it happened so this could happen. Does that make sense?" He didn't look at Harry, just kept on looking at the ceiling, "I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm glad I met you properly, finally. You hear things and presume things but you find yourself proven wrong and I'm glad that's happened." * Harry stared at the boy who had languidly draped himself over the chair and who's pale throat tilted backwards, long and perfect in a way that Harry had never seen before, except for a small silver scar that seemed to strike across the other's collarbone. He didn'tknow why it caught his eye but the way his throat moved as he spoke was almost hypnotic. Harry drew his eyes away and shook his head, catching the drift of what Damian was saying at the same time and smiled. "Yeah. It would have been nicer in better circumstances but I'm glad we can do this now." Damian lifted himself upright again, the grace with which he did it, reminding Harry of why his cousin had probably wanted him. Everything about Damian screamed refinement and elegance and poised, it reminded him of someone else but once again he moved away from that thought. So much about Damian reminded him of other people and he wasn't sure why... * It would have been nicer in better circumstances. but in better circumstances Draco would never have been able to move past the prejudices of his upbringing. It wasn't that he had really always disliked Harry... it had been jealousy and hurt and the way his father and others had spewed anti-Harry propoganda at the same rate rabbits bred. In better circumstances he would never have seen this Harry Potter and not the one that had escaped the clutches of Voldemort from day one. He noticed the way Harry's eyes were blinking at him sleepily, the vibrancy of their viridian glow dulling ever so slightly as the strain of recovery and talking and arguing took their toll. * "Go to sleep. I'll stay and keep an eye on you and I'll wake you up for supper ok?" Damian said with a hint of fondness and a smile that made Harry want to smile too. He nodded and slid down into the covers and slowly, watching Damian's eyes as they flickered to the window, he drifted back to sleep. Stormy is Editing Ron poked his fingers on the phone and prayed Hermione would pick up. In two rings, she did."Hello Ron? What's wrong?" her voice came across the phone in curiosity. "Um..." he stalled, not sure of how he should phrase this question, or rather, this whole problem. "Spill it Ron, I don't have forever here." She sounded slightly impatient, and he sighed, still uncertain how he should tell her. "Harry and I got into a fight," he said finally, still angry about it all. "What?" Hermione said, and Ron could almost hear her shaking her head. "We argued about this Damian person," he felt mildly defeated, and that made him angry. "I mean I know he's up to no good!" he said finally, voicing the feelings he'd had for some time. "He's some kind of high and mighty, I'm too good for you all types of people. I don't trust him, and I know Harry shouldn't either!" He heard Hermione sigh. "Ron, could you please stop trying to argue over every little thing?" she said, and he started getting angry with her. "Why? Why can't I be angry over this? I mean, why did he come here with Harry anyway? He's just acting like he is better than all of us, better than...." he trailed off, realizing what was really bothering him. "That's just the thing though Ron, think about this. Why would he have taken Harry to your house, instead of his own? Maybe he isn't thinking he's better than you? If he really is all that he says he is, then he's certainly got some kind of medi-witch or wizard that caters to his family or something. Wouldn't that be better care than at your house? And I'm not saying anything bad about your house!" she said just before Ron got a chance to say things he really might regret. "Because certainly Harry is more comfortable, more relaxed, and just as well taken care of at your house than at Damian's. So you have to think about that. Why your house? Why the Burrow? Maybe he realizes that with you and your family, Harry'll be taken care of properly, and he'd feel comfortable? Maybe he realized that you'd want to know about what happened to him? Did you ever think that Ron?" Ron sighed, feeling guilty. "No," he admitted, "But he smirks like Malfoy. And I think he's trying to break us apart." Hermione sighed. "Why would he do that Ron?" "I don't know, but Hermione, I don't trust him. I just... I just don't." Hermione made a noise. "Well, I can't tell what I think of him just yet. I'm only making speculations based on what you and Harry have said. So I can't make an informed decision just yet. Maybe you should try to let it rest a little bit though? Like... you should apologize to Harry and try to work on understanding this Damian?" "No way. He needs to apologize to me first!" Ron said heatedly. Hermione sighed again. "Honestly, can't either of you admit you were wrong?" "I may have been wrong to yell at Harry, but I still meant everything I said." "I guess it'll be a difficult time at your house for you then," she said, "With no one to communicate between the two of you. Get your acts straight before you come back to school, alright? I'd like to have both my friends talking to each other during the year. And I think Harry needs us both, don't forget... all that's happened." Ron sighed again, and nodded. "Alright, I'll try to work it out with him somehow, but Hermione, I don't make any promises." "At least you're going to try." "Yeah. Thanks, I'll talk to you later," he said, and waited for her to hang up before he did so as well. At least he assumed he hung up, he closed it and the light went out. He walked to his room and sat on his bed for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He really hated that guy, but for Harry's sake, maybe he should try to get along with him? No, Ron shook his head, he knew that Damian was nothing but trouble, and he intended to find out who exactly he was. M Damian was finally getting some sleep of his own. Ron was sulking in his room. Ginny was visiting her boyfriend. The twins were off working on some double secret project. Mrs. Weasley had just stepped out to do some shopping and Harry was finally, blessedly alone. It wasn't that he didn't like Damian's company, far from it, but with everyone in the Weasley house around as well he'd begun to feel a bit claustrophobic. It wasn't like him at all, or maybe it was and he just hated to admit it.He wasn't used to having friends, or people who cared about him. It was nice to have them, but it came with a lot of other things too. All of them expected something out of him, something great. He was supposed to accomplish something no one else could and honestly, Damian was the only one who seemed to see the truth of it. I mean, maybe he couldn't defeat Voldemort. What if he couldn't? Would Ron still be his best friend? What about Hermione? Would Mrs. and Mr. Weasley still be so proud of him? Would Dumbledore still think he was special? Of course not, how could they. Damian, though, he didn't seem to care if Harry killed Voldemort or not. He just liked Harry, the person. Harry felt certain of that. Just as he was thinking that he heard the oddest thing, a phone was ringing, a cell phone. It seemed to be coming from his bags, which had been delivered a couple days after his arrival. Oh, right, it was his cell phone, the one Hermione had sent. He rushed to the bag and started pulling things out until he found the phone. He wondered for a moment why he was in such a hurry to get it. He'd just been thinking how nice it was to be alone and yet... He flipped it open. "Hermione?" He asked as soon as he had it to his ear. "Harry! I thought for sure I'd have to leave another voice mail. How are you?" He wandered out to the kitchen. "I'm okay... how are you?" "I'm fine," her voice was firm, "but I heard you weren't doing so well for a while there. I've been worried about you. Why didn't you call?" "Oh, I sort of forgot about the cell phone. I'm kinda surprised the battery's not dead. I suppose you've been talking to Ron." He hadn't meant to say Ron quite as angrily as it came out, but he couldn't take it back either. "Yes, I have. Harry, who is this Damian anyhow? I'm not saying anything bad about him. I'm just wondering." The way Hermione said it, as if she was just curious set Harry at ease, and he found himself spilling out the whole story to her. From beginning to end he told her about meeting him and the terrible things that had happened and the wonderful things that had happened as well. In the end he felt relieved and much better than he'd felt in weeks. "I see. You really like him a lot don't you?" Hermione sounded a bit sad as she said it. "Is there something wrong with that?" He was immediately defensive. It had a lot to do with the way Ron had been acting. Hermione laughed. "No, and don't get angry at me Harry. I just know someone who might be disappointed that's all." "Who? Ron?" Harry asked bitterly. "No, Ginny, but I think she's moved on at this point anyway. It's no big deal." Harry felt his brow crease as he considered that for a while. What was Hermione saying? Why would Ginny be disappointed that he liked Damian? "What? Hermione, you aren't making any sense at all." He could almost hear her smiling on the other end of the phone when she spoke again. "Don't worry about it Harry. I'll explain it better some other time. I hope I get to meet Damian sometime. He sounds like he's really become important to you quickly." "Yeah, I guess he has." "Goodbye Harry, I'll see you on the Express." "Bye." He hung up. Okay, maybe Hermione would still like him if he didn't beat Voldemort, maybe. Matt - Nomad White chiffon clouds were simmering to a dusky blue as the sun collapsed into it’s bloody red miasma of light behind the silhouetted mountains. The stars were peering out from the clouds, squinting as they woke up for their nocturnal reign. Above the peaks of the mountain range, the moon was faithfully reflecting the sun’s rays across the untouched snow, turning it to fairy dust beneath its eerie glow. Draco sighed and leant out across the balcony, his eyes glimmering with awe and happiness. He looked beside him. A young man, probably his age with dark hair stood beside him... His warm breaths, spilt through a small smile, were creating twisting dragons which danced and disappeared rapidly through the dusk-blue darkness that was setting in. But it was as if this place had temporarily locked away some of the fear that still resided inside him. He wasn't sure where he was. It didn't seem to have a name.It wasn't home though the mountains seemed so familiar... The balcony wasn't anywhere he had been before. This place was magical in a way he had never known before. Just watching that sun slide down the snow and bow its head to say farewell… He smiled. "Smiling in the darkness. What a little sneak you are my dear." A dark voice. Sinister sibilance strung itself across the words where it shouldn't have. He felt himself shiver and saw the darkness snatch away the last blood shot ray from the sun. An arm wrapped itself around his chest, a hand coming up to stroke his throat and he flinched. The hand was thin, bony and mottled, fingers webbed and crooked. Who's hands were they? A cloaked silhoette was standing at the foot of his bed, face dimmed up by the fires that burnt all about them. The room was overpoweringly hot and he couldn’t breath. His lungs were inflamed, his throat was clogged with air that was too think to breath. His eyes were burning and blistering and a dark haired boy was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. The clothes were ripped open and his bare chest was exposed to the nightmare heat. Long gashes were drawn across his chest, down through the fabric so that the blood was pouring out and boiling in the air. A white toothed grin flickered below the hood but no face was seen before the darkness took over again... holding a knife that dripped with blood to the same place where his mouth had been. His forked tongue came out to lick the knife clean, the mean pink muscle lapping up the life that stained the blade. “What…” He managed to gasp as the body on the floor convulsed as the figue turned from him and buried the knife into the flesh of the boy's shoulder all the way to the hilt before ripping it out sideways as to cut through the ragged skin. The scream was a broken gurgle as blood spat out of his mouth and the creature, what ever it was, swooped down to kiss the pulverised lips, sucking up some of the blood. Then the monster turned back to Draco who was unable to move... The monster crawled up his body, running his dirty, bloody hands over his body and then pressing his blood soak lips to Draco's, making the other boy's blood run over his face. The face was visible. Contorting irrationally second by second; thin face, fat face, pale face, foked tongue, pursed lips... Draco was frozen but tears formed in his eyes only to disappear through the scorching fires. “Damian.” a voice was calling him was calling him from the floor, “Damian, Day, wake up.” The mottled body was gone, the body was still there but he gurgled to the voice only to be beaten aside by a different dark haired boy who’s eyes were warm but hands were cool. “Wake up." * Draco wasn't a weak person by nature. He had never had nightmares like this before. Not since he was little... Sometimes he dreamt of the Cruciatus... Sometimes he dreamt of Voldemort and his eyes... But never before had he dreamt like this. He felt Harry's arms embrace him carefully as he realised he was shaking and that the small, hurried breaths were his own. He let himself be held. The same way he had been with Mrs Weasley. He didn't remember everything... He remembered being scared. He remembered the heat and he remembered mountains that took his breath away... these nightmares could not become routine. He was Draco Malfoy for godsake. He wasn't scared. He didn't show emotion. He didn't even care whether he had friends. He was safe and alone and protected by walls that were inpenetrable. Or they had been. What was wrong with him? What had changed? * Harry wasn't sure what had led him to check on Damian after supper instead of taking more alone time... In fact he had been surprised at himself when he had. He had felt wrong all through the meal and had put it down to the glares Ron had shared with him before, during and after it. He was glad he had though. The fevered shaking had scared him. The minute whimpers had made him feel almost embarressed at what he had witnessed... Then he had realised that Damian was struggling to breath and he had panicked, rushing to wake him from whatever he was so afraid of. Long ago he had learnt to understand that nightmares were okay... they were nothing to be ashamed of... He didn't think someone like Damian would understand that so as he held him, guiltily wondering why he didn't want to let go, he tried to think of a way to explain... That was when a black beaked owl flew in the window carrying a single sheet of parchment saying one short message. Pleasent dreams? Stormy is Editing Draco remained in Harry's arms for what seemed like eternity, until he finally felt the tears leave him completely and he was able to relax. He took a shuddering breath and looked at Harry, pulling away just enough to wipe at his eyes."Thanks," he said, but it came out like a croak as his voice was still thick from the crying. "I've never..." he paused, wondering if he should even say what he was thinking. Finally, when Harry just looked at him, but didn't let go of him completely, he finished the sentence. "I've never really cried in front of anyone. It wasn't allowed." Draco felt rather embarrased to be admitting all of that, and his face flushed bright red, but the blush went away completely when Harry simply nodded at him. "Yeah," he said, his eyes never leaving Draco's even while his head moved up and down. "Neither have I. Well, I did throw a tantrum once, but..." he blushed, and Draco tilted his head to one side. "Oh?" Draco asked, wondering where this came from, but Harry simply shook his head. "No, nothing, I don't want to talk about it yet." Harry's voice had become so soft that Draco was surprised, he'd never heard Harry speak so softly. "Sorry," Draco said, and Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault," then he tilted his head to one side and gave a slight grin at Draco, "at least I don't think it is. You don't happen to be Bellatrix Lestrange by chance, do you?" Draco blinked at him a few times, then shook his head. "Not last time I checked." Draco looked down at his firmly flat chest, "And I certainly haven't grown anything extra overnight, so I'd have to say no, quite firmly." Although a part of Draco wanted to be angry with Harry, another part was quite certain that he would have done what Harry had done if he was in Harry's shoes. The owl took that moment to fly over to them and drop down on Draco's shoulder. It's claws dug ever so slightly into his skin, and Draco looked up to see the note it had brought him. Draco's skin went cold as he snatched up the paper. "Thank you," he said to the owl, it wasn't it's fault that whoever had sent the letter was cruely playing games with Draco's mind. He looked around to see if there was anything he had to give the bird as a treat, and was mildly disturbed that he had nothing in the room. It didn't seem to mind, as it dashed off as soon as Draco had the paper in his hand, flying back out of the window with rapid wing beats. Harry looked at him oddly for a moment, then let him go completely. It felt cold where Harry's hands had been, and Draco wanted those hands back. "Do you want to talk about the dream?" Harry asked, and Draco looked at him, trying to weigh how much he could get away with saying, without realizing what it was he had dreamed. M Finally he shook his head, echoing Harry's earlier words, "I don't want to talk about it yet." He crumpled the parchment the owl had delivered, then held it as there was no place the throw it away. Harry nodded."Did you get enough sleep? There are leftovers for you in the kitchen if you want. I think Ron's gone up to his room now, so you won't have to worry about him for a while." Draco nodded, following Harry into the kitchen. He wasn't ready to be alone yet. After he'd eaten they returned to his room and talked about all manner of things, little things that didn't matter much. It felt good to talk about such things with Harry, Draco began to relax again and the two of them chattered until both ended up falling asleep on the bed together. As the sun began to rise in the sky a wizard with black greasy hair and black robes apparated in front of the Burrow. He brushed at his robes, glaring at his surroundings, before moving to the door and knocking three times, loudly. Mrs. Weasley scurried to the door, thinking perhaps Arthur had forgotten his lunch then realizing he would never knock in such a way as she eased the door open. "Severus, good morning." She smiled at the potion master as she opened the door. She didn't really like the man, but Albus Dumbledore trusted him and that was good enough for her. "Would you like some tea?" "Yes, Molly, I suppose I must. I am hear to speak with Dr... Damian. I have news from his parents." "Oh, I see," she smiled and had him sit down, bustling about as she spoke. "Such a delightful boy, very reserved, but most understanding. I dare say he's put up with a lot from Ron. Can't say I understand Ron's attitude. He's at a difficult age you know. Here you are, I'll go check on Damian, see if he's up." She paused half way out of the room. "You won't be taking him off with you, will you? He's hardly been here." "That... will be up to Damian, but it's nearly time for all of them to leave now. The school year will begin very soon." Professor Snape looked completely out of place, sitting at the Weasley family table sipping tea politely. "Yes, I suppose you're right," Mrs. Weasley sounded sad as she left. Matt - Nomad Harry was too peaceful to wake up, even though Draco knew that his friend probably had more important things to do than take care of him. He sighed slightly, pulling the duvet closer about his neck, he liked this feeling of being snug and warm, next to the boy he'd always believed he hated... knowing now that it was this cocoon that was special and that the outside world could wait.“Are there reasons for everything?” He whispered, "Or is this just a nice coincidence?" He smiled and tentatively he ran a finger down the lightly tanned cheek, just to make sure he wasn’t simply having another dream. Harry stirred and made a faint mumbling sound as he was disturbed slightly from his slumber. Damian chuckled lightly and did it again. Only to stop as he heard his name slip from Harry’s lips. He remembered something... something he had only dared to think of when his parents weren’t home and when the stakes were so high he knew he needed something to play for. What would happened if… Draco shook his head and then gasped slightly as green eyes opened slowly, squinting slightly in the daylight glow. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Damian said gently, recalling with a pang of regret, how his mother had used to say that on waking him up when he was very small… before things changed again... “ ‘Ning” the dark haired wizard managed with a half hearted smile, “ ‘s time?” “It’s nearly eleven I think… Though I might be wrong. The ten chime went ages ago though.” He had heard the grandfather clock from the ground floor as it had struck out its timber melody of hours, but he hadn’t heard its latest bell sound. “Sleep…” Harry mumbled and closed his eyes again. Draco was amused. Harry really must still be tired, or just not a morning person... “I think we should get up…” He ventured up a couple of minutes later to a return grunt from the body beside him, who pouted in his stupor making Draco burst into laughter. Harry had never looked more like a petulant kid than he did right then. For once, Draco could remember the Skeeter stories and put a face to the spoilt lies. The thought made him giggle slightly. Harry moaned a soft 'Day' before rolling onto his back and blearily looking up into his eyes. "Plan?" "I don’t know…" Harry smirked, albeit sleepily, wrapping his arm around Draco's neck. He pulled himself up slightly and then suddenly tugged the other boy down on top of him, "Sleep." He said and laughed out loud when he saw the surprised face of his friend. Damian smiled. Damian noticed how their bodies had aligned as he had fallen and how Harry's arm was still wrapped around his neck. He didn’t want to move. But he didn't know what to think as they lay there, blue meeting grey, and as Harry slowly became more and more awake. Harry's fingers were playing with a stray strand of hair and Draco shivered, leaning into Harry's touch, guiltily imagining those fingers tracing across his neck and over his lips... Then flinching as he realised what he had just thought of. Fuck what was going on? * "Morning!" Mrs Weasley bustled into the room with a warm smile on her face that melted into surprise, "Oh you're awake!" The boys sprang apart. Harry yawning and almost falling off the bed as he did so. "Damian, you've got a visitor... A message from your parents is with Professor Snape." She said with a hint of shock still present in her voice but the smile back in place. "Snape?" "Severus is here?" The two boys looked at each other. And Harry's eyes squinted at Damian, "You're not related right?" The sudden fear that had sprung into Harry's eyes made him laugh out loud, "Nope. He's has a message for me from my parents. I guess they couldn't be bothered to come themselves." * Severus Snape waited impatiantly. He had supposed Draco was having an awful time under his mask of illusions but that look on Mrs Weasley's face had unsettled him. He was almost torn. If Draco was happy here then he was seeing a part of his godson he had rarely been able to see the past few years. If Draco wasn't happy he'd have to go home and if the rumours were true then Lucius was more than furious at his son for aiding the emblem of Light to safety. Severus shivered. He didn't want to think about what would happen to Draco on his return home. The only issue was that even if Draco didn't return home, Lucius' wrath would be just as powerful as before and the longer it was left to simmer the more Draco would suffer later. "Severus." The young man that faced him shook him. Light brown hair and blue eyes that were bright with emotion, skin that wasn't sickly or pale, colour in his cheeks and yet... The way he stood was still Draco, even though his face wasn't. The silence saw the happiness fade somewhat and the familiar mask of indifference managed to crawl its way back over the stranger's face... Yes that cold-face was Draco's. He was surprised that none of the Weasley's had noticed. Harry peered out from behind the new boy, his face pinched. "Damian. Potter." "His name's Harry, Severus." Damian's voice wasn't Draco's either, it was slightly deeper... Then again it rang a bell, "Just because you teach him doesnt mean that you have to keep up that grouchy facard outside of your lessons." 'Damian' smirked. Severus scowled, the irony of the situation not lost on him, "Well it doesn't matter too much as what I have to say to you is of no concern of Mr. Potter's and thus I hope to be allowed your company alone." The glare he shot across the room made Damian pale. "Uh... Right... Harry... You'd ummm ... Better go... I'll see you upstairs in a bit." Harry's face was grim but he left and gently shut the door behind him. Draco came to sit across the table from him. Eyes lowered to his clasped hands on the table, "He's mad isn't he." Severus nodded, "Is it true? You helped him?" "He helped me. A debt is a debt and... He's nothing like you think..." "I find that hard to believe." "I'm sure you do, Sev, but... It's true. He's lived in hell at home. Not unlike you did. Not unlike me. The way he was treated... It would make you shudder to consider. Treat him with a little more respect, whatever side you..." Draco paused and shook slightly, "eventually choose." "I know what side I'm on. This is why he's angry. What side are you, Draco? You've got to except the mark if you want to survive." "But is is worth surviving if it's to live under him?" "Life is always worth preserving if you can." "Life is impermenant. It comes and goes." "Ah... maybe you should talk to the overgrown bumblebee." "Become a-" "Don't say it aloud." "Oh..." Draco wasn't sure how to respond. In fact he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He knew his father was mad. He was supposed to be home by now. He was supposed to have dont half the holidays with the muggles and half at home, training for his initiation. Ever since he could remember he had been living in the sahdow of his father and the Deatheaters. He had known for almost as long that he had no wish to kiss the hem of a human chimera. He had no desire to destroy half the world only to have it become something as dark and disgusting as the Snake-Lord. "I don't want to go home yet, Sev... I want to stay here and think alittle first. Can you comeback after the weekend... that's three days..." Draco's voice had fallen to a soft whisper. He knew he'd be in for trouble later but... He wanted to spend a few more days with Harry before he had to become Draco Malfoy again and their enmity tore them a part. He wanted Harry to remember Damian positively... He wanted to be remembered as this person... Because he knew that never again would he be able to show who he really was inside. "Very well. I will tell your father that you have some last minute errands you wish to complete and return for you Monday." Severus's eyes softened slightly, "And don't worry... We'll sort this all out." Stormy is Editing Harry figited at his bed, wondering what kind of state Damian would be in after hearing from his parents. He honestly couldn't imagine how Professor Snape and Damian knew each other, but... it was obvious from the way Damian and Snape acted around each other that they thought the other one was pretty alright. Somehow that bothered Harry. He couldn't imagine anyone being on friendly terms with Snape, except perhaps Draco Malfoy, and Harry didn't really want to think about that. There was something about Draco that was bothering the edges of his mind, but Harry didn't want to delve into that.He stood up from his bed and started walking. He almost couldn't believe he'd woken up in the same bed with Damian and it had felt so... so... so very *right* for some reason. He pressed a finger to his lips. What if he had... kissed Damian? He flinched away slightly and wondered if he might have wanted to do just that this morning when he had woken up. He remembered the feeling of the strand of silky hair in his fingers, and he felt a slight shiver go through his body. He wanted more... more of whatever feeling this was, whatever it was that made his body go warm. He had a feeling he wanted something incredibly innapropiate with Damian Malloy. The door opened and Harry flushed as he turned around guiltily. Damian was in the doorway, looking somewhat confused. "Harry? Is something wrong?" he asked, and Harry shook his head. "No." He allowed his hand to fall from his lips and he tried to not look like he had gotten caught doing something wrong. "Is everything alright? Are your parents angry?" Damian shrugged and turned to glance at the door. "Do you mind if I speak with you privately?" he asked, his voice soft and sad. Harry nodded, moving over to the bed and sitting down, patting the space beside him. "Have a seat?" Damian nodded and closed the door, moving over to Harry and sitting down on bed. "I'm... not sure what to do, you see," he said, and Harry nodded. "Alright, if you needed help getting dressed I can always give you advice." Damian looked at Harry for a moment, and Harry felt like he had grossly misjudged his humor and shook his head. "Nevermind," he said in a hurry, and Damian's eyes sparkled. "Did you just... tease me?" he asked, the corners of his lips twitching, and Harry flushed as he nodded. "I won't do it again, alright?" Harry knew for a fact that any kind of teasing might not be acceptable, and he wasn't going to lose this friend over such a ridiculous thing. Damian shook his head and chuckled. "No, it's alright, I just didn't expect to hear something like that out of you. You always... well, I always imagined you to be serious. I never really thought you'd have much by way of humor. It's okay, what you did." Damain laughed. "Actually, do it again, that was really neat." Harry gave Damian a small grin, hoping he really meant that. "Alright, I will, but that's the only warning you've got. You better not regret saying that." Damian shook his head. "No, I won't." He went silent for a moment, then looked at Harry again. "Alright, I can't think of a better way of saying this, so I'll just try to ask it. Have you ever had something expected of you your whole life? Like, has people important to you expected you to do something and you're not sure you want to do what they want out of you?" Damian sighed. "I'm not making sense." Harry laughed lightly. "Of course you're making sense." He pushed back the hair on his forehead and brandished the lightning scar. "I know exactly what you're talking about. I didn't even know about these people and they expect me to save them, remember?" Damian nodded. "Yeah, it's kind of like that, except... I was raised to be this way. I was expected that when I grew up I would do something, and be someone, and now that I'm growing up... I'm really not sure I want to be that person. I... I'm scared of being that person they want me to be. I want to someone other people want to know, not someone they'd be afraid of..." Damian drifted off and shook his head. "Nevermind, I'm not making any sense, and you probably don't want to hear this anyway." He stood up and Harry reached out a hand, stopping him so quickly that Damian twisted back and fell back on the bed. "Sorry," Harry said at once, then shook his head. "I'm not sorry for stopping you, but I am sorry if I hurt you." Damian shrugged. "You haven't hurt me." "I know what you're saying. When I was little, well, you know what the Dursley's are like, I was treated with nothing but contempt. You can see how things were for me. I'd always be the scapegoat for everything that went wrong, even though I didn't do anything most of the time. A lot of the time it was Dudley that did the the deed and I got in trouble. That's how things were. I was raised to look after myself firstly and not even trust anyone else. I knew that I had to be self sufficient. I knew that in order to live, that I had to be that way, or I might just die in that house. It's not the same as being specifically raised to be a way, but in some ways, it's the same. I didn't ask to be like this. I wanted friends, but Dudley always made them think twice about even talking to me. I didn't think I would ever have anything that was mine, so when I suddenly found all these things that were... I grabbed onto them and latched on like there was nothing else I could do, I *had* to. And... well... the general attitude I have is one for survival, when really, really..." Harry trailed off, not sure exactly what he was saying, or where he was going. He was leaning over Damian, his eyes earnest and pleading. "I really want to know that people see the real me. I want people to like me. I want them to know who I am underneath the fame, the glory, the scar." Harry didn't realize that his eyes were filling with tears and he couldn't understand where this was coming from. "Sorry, I don't really understand what I've just said." Damian reached a hand up and gently brushed away the tears that was pricking the edges of his eyes. "It's alright, I'll like you for you Harry," there was a catch to his voice, "I always will. I always wanted to know you." There was such certainty to his voice, Harry had to believe him. "I wanted to know you ever since I'd heard about you, if only because I felt like maybe you could save me." Harry blinked at him, and leaned lightly into the hand. "Save you?" he whispered, and Damian nodded. "Yeah, and maybe, perhaps, you just have." Harry blinked again and looked at Damian in confusion. "I don't understand," Harry said, and Damian grinned. "You don't have to," he said simply, then, "Thank you Harry, that's all you have to understand." With that he reached his arms up and pulled Harry down in a hug, holding onto him tightly. Harry wasn't sure what to do, so he accepted the embrace and held onto Damian as well. "Thank you," Damian whispered into Harry's ear, and Harry felt a rush of warmth spread out across his body. Like this, right now, he felt right, and there was nothing else he wanted in the world. * Outside the door, Ron turned away angrily and stalked to his own room. How could Harry have acted like no one knew him, like no one wanted to know him? Hadn't Ron stuck with him through all kinds of things, just because he felt like he was Harry's friend? Maybe that was all pretend? Maybe that was the problem with Damian, he was really Harry's friend and not Ron? He slammed his door shut and threw himself on his bed. He would *not* cry over something so stupid as feeling like his best friend was someone he didn't really know. He wouldn't cry over something that felt even more like betrayal. And when he was going to go apologize to Harry too. M Three days can feel like an eternity or they can rush by in the blink of an eye. For Harry and Damian they did both. The two of them spent what seemed like endless hours enjoying each other's company, yet those hours were over all too soon. Sunday evening found Damian repacking his bags."Are you going to be okay?" Harry asked nervously as he sat on the edge of the bed watching. "Of course," Draco replied. He needed to be Draco again, yet he didn't want to. He had to face his father and pretend. Pretend what? He hadn't learned anything over the past few days except that he liked Harry. He hadn't figured out who's side he was on, unless he could be on Harry's side, but... did that mean? "What are you thinking?" Draco shook his head. "I don't want to go home." Could he really go against everything he'd been raised to be? Could he refuse the mark? If he did, would his father literally kill him? Would he disown him? What about Severus? Was he really on the Dark Lord's side? He said he knew what side he was on, but... what side was that? He wanted Draco to get the mark, did that mean he was on that side, or was he just being cautious? "I wish you didn't have to," Harry sounded so sincere it made him want to cry. What was with him crying? Was it just that he couldn't for so long, so now he never wanted to stop? Yet he didn't want to cry, not really, he just felt he would. "But I do." He wished he could ask Severus straight out but he knew the type of answer he would get. "I know." Harry's eyes were so sad that Draco could hardly stand it. Seeing his emotions reflected so deeply in another was difficult. "Don't worry, we'll see each other again." They would too, but Harry wasn't likely to realize it when they did. "You'll write too," Harry said, "and I'll write back. I'm not very good at that stuff, but I promise I'll write back to you." Draco nodded. He'd never really had anyone he wanted to write to, but he had a feeling writing Harry would be no trouble at all. "If you're parents get dangerous you'll tell me that too." Harry finished quickly. Draco nodded, "yes, I will. Harry..." tears flooded his eyes, he wasn't ready to leave. If he could just have another couple days. "...I'll miss you." Harry put his arms around Damian. He had trouble thinking of Ron as his best friend anymore. This thing he had with Damian was so much deeper, so much more than what he'd had with Ron. Yet he and Ron were close on some level. There was no comparison. "I'll miss you too." The two of them stood together, bodies pressed against one another, holding each other tightly. Neither was willing to let go. Each feared that when they did they would loose what had become the most important person in their lives. Matt - Nomad In a manor on a desolate hilltop he was standing on a balcony. Pasty grey clouds was slicked down across the sky and the moorland was churned into a lack-lustre lilac that stretched to meet the ever more lifeless woodlands. Draco Malfoy leant out across the rail, staring down at the ground five storeys below and scowled, frowned, then sighed. His thoughts kept flickering between the residing pain in his limbs and the events before... what had happened with Harry. The name made him sigh again. It was going to hurt being Draco Malfoy. More so now than ever before because now, however strangely, he understood kinship and what it was like to know affection... Those had been dreams from the few books he'd read in secret when he was younger... Barely remembered dreams until now... "Master Draco, Toddy has brought him his cognac." A house elf's voice chirped from behind him. "Thank you. Just leave it there." Draco did not turn around. But the elf had noticed his gratitude. Hanging his head, Draco remembered... hushed, hurried words of consolation and concern within a perfect embrace. Hands that traced his back, then neck, then face as the pulled apart; hands roaming as it mapping him, desperate not to forget. His own hands taking the small fingers and bringing them to his lips in thanks. The transit... When Harry hadlet their bodies draw close again until their noses touched and breaching mixed. The point where eyes had fluttered closed as Snape shouted for him. And lips that had met is a small, chaste kiss. A butterfly on his lips and the small tear that he had brushed frmo gold green eyes as he turned to leave. Draco couldn't forget that butterfly.... no mater how small or short. There had been somethng init that he had never known before... Was it too soon? Was it a dream? Was it futile? Of course it was futile.... Well the thought of Harry had kept him from crying out.... His father really was a bastard. Having arrived home he had been led into Lucius' study, as expected, the desperate look n Severus' eyes as he had left had told him much enough. Black, foul tasting postion, greasy to the touch, tipped down his throat as he entered. The anti-glamour. Pain seered through his body, making his fall to the floor, hissing as his bones arches and his natural physique returned. He was inside out and raw and both hot and cold at once. He would not scream. "Shame I didn't add the crushed ginger isnt it Little Dragon." Lucius' eyes flickered as he bent to meet him, the process was slowing, "Crucio." He had seen it coming. But that didnt make it any easier. Didnt prepare him for the pain. He doubted you could prepare for it. The beauty and potency of the curse was that it altered depending on the victim. Draco's punishment was always like this. Short, intense and frequant. It was just the way it was. He wanted to write to Harry but didnt trust himself not to let on what was wrong. No, he would wait until Hogwarts.... And he would send Harry a birthday present too... Stormy is Editing "Harry?" The voice made Harry start and he looked up at the figure in the doorway. Ron was standing there, looking for all the world like he wasn't sure about what he was doing. Harry glared."What do you want?" he asked viciously. Ever since Damian had left a few days ago, he'd been in a foul mood, wishing more than ever that he hadn't had to see him go. They'd be all leaving for Hogwarts before he knew it, and yet... a part of him didn't want to leave. "I'm..." Ron looked like he hadn't slept in days, and Harry felt a pang of regret for not coming to terms with him sooner. Then it washed away as he thought about Damian. "Can I come in?" Harry shrugged and motioned to the chair in the room and Ron nodded once, moving towards it and sitting down. "I don't like him," Ron started with, and as Harry was about to reply, he held his hand up to silence him. "I don't like him. I didn't say I still felt like you shouldn't like him, alright. I've been doing a lot of thinking." "Amazing," Harry said sarcastically, unable to contain himself any further. "I didn't know you were capable of it." Ron blushed, his face getting angry. "Stop provoking me, alright? I don't think I'm wrong for not trusting him, but I also don't think I'm right for being mean. I admit it, alright? I was angry, and jealous, and now here you are thinking about him, and you won't even hear me apologizing!" Harry felt anger, then he felt sadness. "Sorry," he said, looking down at his hands. "It's just different with Damian than it is with you, I can't explain it, but..." he stopped and looked back up at Ron. "Fine, if you don't want to trust him, you don't have to, but if you want to be my friend, you have to accept that I like him, alright? I consider him a friend too, and... and I'll continue to do that even if you hate him. He's really understood a part of me I don't like to talk about." Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but he refrained from doing it. There was several moments of silence, before he spoke again. "Alright. Fine, I'll accept that you like him, that he's a friend, but in return, you have to accept that he has to do something amazing for me to trust him." Harry nodded. "Fine, it's a deal," he said, and offered Ron a tentative smile. In return, Ron grinned and nodded. "Alright, are you hungry? 'Cause I am!" Harry felt better than he had in a long time, as though the coming school year was going to be long, but rewarding. M Time at the Weasley's home went quickly as it always did. Before Harry knew it, it was his birthday, and in this strange place everyone actually remembered. It was not only fun to have people remember his birthday, but also uncomfortable. There were so many Weasleys. With all of them wishing him a Happy Birthday a part of him wanted to go into hiding and not come out until the next day.Instead he acted as expected. Mrs. Weasley made his favorite foods all day long. He played Quidditch with all of the Weasley children. Hermione was even there as a birthday surprise and he couldn't say he wasn't happy to see her. There were gifts, all of them simple, and a part of him wanted to give some of them back, as he knew how little money the Weasleys had to spare. He couldn't of course, and he really did love the handmade blanket Mrs. Weasley gave him. It was warm, and he'd never had anything like it before. "Hermione, I'm really glad you came. Are you staying to go shopping with us tomorrow, or meeting us at the Hogwarts Express?" Harry found himself asking fairly early on. Hermione looked from him to Ron and back again. "Well, since the two of you are getting along again I think I'll stay." Ron stared at the ground guiltily. "We've made an agreement," Harry told her as he wondered what all Ron might have said to Hermione while they were arguing. He sighed, "I wish you could have come in time to meet Damian. I think you would have liked him. He's very intelligent." "You mean he's a know it all," Ron mumbled. "Ron!" Hermione glared at Ron and Harry shot him a look of annoyance. "Ron." "Sorry," Ron said quickly, "sorry..." and he wandered off to talk to Ginny. "You two are getting along again right?" Hermione asked after Ron was out of earshot. "Well, yeah, as long as we don't talk about Damian we're fine. It's just... hard for me to listen to him say those things about someone I care about you know?" Harry wondered if she could understand. His eyes begged her to. "Harry," Hermione's voice was soft and low, pitched so it would be very difficult for anyone to overhear her, "do you think you might fancy him?" "What?" Harry was so surprised that his loud reply caused everyone to stop what they were doing and look over. He felt his cheeks redden as he thought about what she'd just said. Hermione stood with her lips pursed, a determined look on her face as she waited for everyone to get back to their usual activities. "Everything alright over there mate?" Fred asked grinning and coming right over. "If not we might be able to help you out," George followed along as he spoke, each of them standing on different sides of Harry. "We have a trick for every occasion." "Well, almost every, and if we don't have what you need..." "...we can make it. Just give us a bit of time." "He does not need help from you," Hermione told them firmly, glaring at the twin who had pushed in between her and Harry, "so shove off." "Shove off?" "Did she just tell us to shove off Fred?" "Why yes, I do believe she did George." "Not very lady like that, was it? "No, not at all." "Think we should listen?" Hermione interrupted, "Go I said. Harry and I are having a private conversation." The twins exchanged looks. "Doesn't sound good Fred." "No, not at all." Fred put an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Don't worry mate, we'll save you." "For a small fee we can even put itching powder in her bed tonight." Harry shook his head. "No, no itching powder." He did let them lead him off however, because what Hermione had said had gotten him to thinking, and thinking wasn't really his strong suit. It wasn't that he couldn't think. He could and did regularly, contrary to the opinion of some teachers. However the thought of him... fancying Damian. He felt his eyes widen as he considered it. It could explain so much and yet... Matt - Nomad Draco had been quick to accept that the hole in his chest was nothing to do with his father's anger. He was missing the only friend he had ever truly had... Or at least the first that had accepted him without first being bribed... he supposed some of the Slytherins, like Blaise, were alright. But Harry had been so different. He hadn't assumed anything of him and that was something he had relished whilst it had lasted. What was a suitable present for Harry though? His birthday had passed already but he knew that it would be appreciated by the younger wizard. Age... That was the only thing he surpassed Harry in and yet he no longer felt the slight gratitude he had done before the holiday when he thought of how he would be of age nearly a full year before the other. Now he found it slightly unerving that he had really been so petty. * Harry laughed at some joke the twins had cracked in the aftermath of Ron's hair turning blue. "It's a complimentary-colour crunch-" George was saying. "Turns your hair the exact opposite shade when you eat the 'crunchy'-" Fred continued. "Biscuit part in the center." They finished together and Harry saw Ron's face burning in a mixture of anger and embarressment and humour. He obviously couldn't make up his mind as to how he felt. Harry knew how that felt... Ever since Hermione had asked he had been thinking about it. He had felt something with Damian and that... that kiss. His fingers traced across his lips, remembering just how brief it had been and yet how strangely good it had felt. But there had still been that something about him that had always had him questioning the other wizard. Something that seemed too familiar for him not to pay heed to. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. And there was the fact that he couldn't write to Damian until he had written to him first. He didn't know where Damian lived... * Hermione watched her friend closely. She had seen the way that her friends had fixed their friendship but she was all too aware of the rift that had fallen around Harry. He seemed distracted and worried half of the time and the other half it was as if he was trying not to be distracted. She was sure it was to do with Damian Malloy, despite never having met him herself. She had seen Harry like this once before. With Cho Chang. But this seemed so much more severe. She wanted to give him space to think and still be there for him. Merlin knew Harry needed his friends. After everything he had been through... With the Dursley's and Voldemort and the loss of Sirius. Then again they were returning to Hogwart's soon. That would be good for Harry. That place was his home in a way that no where else ever had been. She was sure that as soon as they arived he'd start being himself again. * Draco had the perfect present. The pair had been in a small library in muggle London that led into Diagon. It was a secret little place but he had offered his hand to the Seer that owned it and she had given him exactly what he wanted. The woman had told him to 'send one and keep the other' because it would be able to 'consolidate that relationship that only two can hold'. He wasn't entire sure what she meant but he knew what he wanted to do. He sat in the dawn-dirty light at his desk in his room. The thick blue drapes were pulled back so he could watch the sunrise and he smiled as he put pen to paper. Tomorrow he returned to Hogwarts and he hoped this would greet Harry's arrival and bring him a little bit of joy. He knew that his own presence would not. He couldn't let Harry know. Not yet. But he had a plan. He needed a hand writing spell. * Dear Harry, I have to say I've missed you terribly since I came home. I told you I didn't want to go and the strange emptiness I'm experiancing now is no surprise and yet I am not meant to become so attached so soon. I feel as if I have something quite different with you than with anyone else though I do not know if you feel the same. I'm sorry if you've worried about me since I left. I hardly gave you any reason not to and I'm sorry for not writing sooner. I would have, only things here have been strained if not difficult to manage. I will tell you now I am actually fine. My 'punishment' comes to an end tomorrow and I am sure that I can withstand anything that comes at me within that time. So don't worry about me. I felt alive for the first time in years when I was with you. I have never been so happy as I was at the Burrow. I want you to be happy too. That is why I enclose the following journal to you. It is one of a pair and whatever you write in this will appear in both the journal you own and the other. They are meant to bring people together I believe and are usually passed down through families but I feel you would have greater use of it than me. I promise there is no dark magic involved and the second, although I do not know who it belongs to, will only lead you to someone who genuinely cares for you. I hope that you will find the one who is at the other end. Thank you so much for everything you have done. Enjoy Hogwarts. Your friend, Damian * Draco signed off and attached both the journal and letter to the leg of his owl Elissa and told her to take it to Harry at Hogwarts and that she should only return once the boy had replied. He sighed and looked at the remaining journal. He wouldn't be able to use it for a while and he knew what he was doing was strictly lying to his new friend but how else was he going to show Harry who he was? He'd write as Damian and as Draco... though maybe he's use a nickname for the journal. He didn't want Harry to freak out before he could talk to him... Stormy is Editing Harry stared down at the journal once more, uncertain if he should really be writing in it. He didn't think that his friend Damian would give him anything dangerous, but he had asked Hermione to check it out just in case. It had shown no signs of being evil or dangerous or even dark at all. He felt therefore, that it was safe to write in it, but he wasn't sure what to say.Maybe if he wasn't on the train to Hogwarts alone? Or was that the problem? He was alone, so therefore he was contemplating writing on it? He took a deep breath and pulled out his ink bottle. "Dear", well this is a problem, who on earth should he be writing to exactly? Harry absently chewed on the end of his quill. Perhaps he should adress it to Damian? He was the one who got him the journal afterall. No, that was silly, he probably wouldn't really want to read what Harry was considering writing. Hermione? Harry shook his head, absolutely not. Ron? Harry blushed at the thought. Probably whatever he wrote in here would be things he couldn't talk to Ron about, afterall, if he could talk to Ron, he wouldn't write in the journal. Damian had said someone else would be reading what he wrote, and would be able to write back to them, but he didn't know who that person was. Should he write to no one? He considered this some more, then he got the perfect person in his mind. "Hedwig," Harry grinned. He did tell his owl everything afterall, and she was the one creature who wouldn't tell his secrets. "I'm now on the train to Hogwarts, as you know since you're sitting beside me. The thing you don't know is that although I'm glad to be returning to Hogwarts, I'm also very nervous. You see, I feel like so much has changed inside of me this past summer, and there's really nothing I feel more than regret at all the things that have passed me by. I feel as though too much of my life, my past, and my future, have been decided for me, and while I want nothing more than to do the right thing, I find that each time I do that, I lose something in the process. I found family, and lost it within two years. I found acceptance, and with it came dissapointment and anger. I found happiness and seen it destroyed like filth in my Aunt's kitchen." Harry chewed on the end of his quill again, when on earth had he started talking like a poet or something? "Anyway, I guess I'm just scared about what I'm about to lose. Will I lose something precious once more? I mean... Sirius was pretty important to me, the last bit of a family that I had and that's saying a lot. My Aunt and Uncle don't count at all as far as family goes." Harry stopped again and shrugged. "Well, anyway, I'm starting this journal thing, and I guess I'm hoping that whoever is at the other end can understand the trepidation I feel. Perhaps they too will have feelings like this, and maybe if they don't, they'll at least understand them? Oh well, this is my first entry, at lousy as it is. Maybe I'll write more later." Harry set down his quill and corked his ink. He wasn't sure if he did any good to even write that, but now that it was down on paper, he felt a bit better overall. The person on the other end might not know who he was, and they might not care, but at least the feelings were out, those ones he was scared to realize even to himself. It might not be so bad of a year as he thought it would be. M Wind whipped around the tower and the walls creaked softly. "This year," the wind whispered, "it will be this year, now, this year, this year." Matilda set down her sewing and went to the window, peering into the storm. She had been the ghost of the lost tower for nearly a thousand years. Outside she could just barely see the outline of Hogwarts. Was it possible? Would they really receive students once more into these lonely hallways? Were there finally students strong enough to roam these halls as in the days of old?She shivered, though not from any sort of chill. As a ghost she wasn't sensitive to temperature at all. None the less she lit the fire in the tower center and moved her sewing to the rocker in front of the thick bearskin. It was pleasant to think she might soon have company. Yet what of the tower secrets? What of the ordeal? It took two to pass the ordeal, the towers greatest secret. The tower therefore only accepted students in pairs. Would there be two, four, six? She didn't dare hope for too many, and yet she did. The more there were the better the chance a pair would live. She began to sense something... children on a train. Ah, yes, students. Somewhere in there were at least two who would find her. A soft smile curved Matilda's lips. "Soon," the wind whispered, "yes, it will be soon, this year, now, soon, very soon." Matt - Nomad Hogwarts. Hideous name really. Hogwarts. Severus scowled ushering his new Slytherins to the dungeons followed by the other snakes. Draco wasn't surrounded by his lackeys. He had drawn away from them as soon as he had left the Great Hall, his expression cold. Severus knew what was probably going on in the boy's head. Harry Potter's presence in the school, having been so close with him in the holidays, was going to hurt his godson. His scowl deepened. The boy was going to suffer because of his upbringing once again and this time he knew he could do nothing about it. Foolhardy was an apt description for his usually sly young student. "Draco. Ready for the new year I presume?" He said in a dry drawl, falling into step with the slightly shorter blond. The unspoken question: Are you alight? "Of course. There were only a few queries I might put to you later." Draco replied, his own words laced with double meaning: I'm fine but still sore from being punished. "I will do my best to answer." I probably have something I can give you for that. "I'm glad. Can I visit later? There's one question I need to know for tomorrow." That's good, I've got one really bad pain but... Only if that's ok? "Of course. Anything in the further development of knowledge." Snape nearly gagged at saying but he had to get his point across. He would help Draco in any way he could. The boy was more his son than Lucius' at any rate. "Thank you." The sincerity that laced the young man's words as well as the actual phrase itself made his eyes widen slightly. Draco smirked. When had his godson started being polite? Even to him he had never heard him say anything quite so... Maybe Potter had started this. Certainly it wouldn't have been those godforsaken muggles. He had heard that Mrs Weasley had caused quite a stir in Little Winging. * Draco was nervous excited when he saw the journal on his bed had fluttered open and words lay written on the first page. He laughed when he saw Harry had decided to address the book like he would his owl. What a strange friend he had made in Harry Potter. Though he had always wanted it. Slowly he settled on the bed, knowing he had to leave it until at least the next day or so and then pretend he had had no idea of what the diary had done but had bough it only a few days ago to return to school with. Then as part two of the plan he would reveal only so much of himself. Telling Harry that he was in dire straights because his family wanted him to become a deatheater but he had no intention of doing so. Then he would allow Harry to pry and he would be honest... He was pretty sure that you were unable to lie in the jounals. And hopefully... He mused with slight trepidation... He would be able to break the reality to Harry slowly. Making Harry befriend both of his identities and then... He said with a happy smile, maybe he would see if Harry felt the way he did about him. Because there was no way he could deny that he liked Harry as more than a friend after the dreams he'd been having more recently. Though it wasn't love. No it couldn't be love because they'd only just started to learn about each other... Prehaps... Prehaps they could still have each other in that sort of way... He was also sure he was lying to himsef because if they weren't able to feel like that for each other then the diaries wouldn't work properly. He shuddered. He didn't want that to happen. Drawing his wand he glamoured the journal and spelled it so no one would think about it even if they noticed it. He needed to go to Severus's soon. He was pretty certain that he'd broken a rib and that the pain in his side wasn't meant to still be there. So to Severus it was... And whatever lay before him. Stormy is Editing "Dear Hedwig," Harry chewed on the end of his quill again. Should he really be writing in the journal already? Afterall, he'd said he needed to get to bed, and in bed he was, but... he'd only been in Hogwarts for one day."I feel like I shouldn't be writing already again. Honestly I can't imagine why I am, except that I've never had anything to write my thoughts into before and I guess it might be past time for me to do so." Well that was one concern off his mind. "I looked up at the teachers table at dinner tonight, and felt a strange sense of relief upon doing so. Honestly I suspect that Umbridge has left me with a deep dislike for the whole Ministry and I'm glad they haven't appointed anyone to the seat of DADA teacher this year. After last years fiasco..." Harry shuddered to himself. How could he possibly even think about that whole thing without thinking about Sirius? "Well, anyway, it was kind of a relief to know she wasn't there, and neither was anyone else from the Ministry. They don't belong here. "I saw Snape again today and wondered about him. He's been a terrible thorn in my side since day one at Hogwarts, and honestly I can't help but wonder about his relationship with Damian. I mean... how could someone like him be any kind of friend to Damian? What kind of life does Damian have? What on earth could they have to talk about? Is Damian good with potions or something? Or is he really into the dark arts? Snape is an evil creature that I simply can't trust, no matter who else does. He's... he's... just terrible. And this is from my experience with him myself, not anything having to do with my father. Honestly, why can't he just see me for me? Why did he have to be so mean to me from day one? Why couldn't he have tried to just let me become me without laying on the thick hatred and sarcasm about my mental capacities right away? Did he really think I knew anything about the Wizarding world before I knew about Hogwarts? And when would I have learned about things exactly? Without knowing anything about me, he automatically assumed I had some basic knowledge about this world, and imediately picked a fight with me. How could I trust him? His ability to read people sucks." Harry stopped writing for a moment and realized that he was ranting. He took a deep breath and chewed on the end of his quill again. This was starting to become a habit and he needed to stop it. He'd damage all of his quills this way. "Well, I guess I've been thinking this a lot and letting it stew in the back of my mind for a long time, so I just let it out. Sorry, whoever reads this, but I just don't like him. "I feel strangely like I don't know what I want to do with my life. We're supposed to be thinking this year about the war against Voldemort, and what we want to do in our futures. All I can think about is how I feel like I've somehow managed to injure Damian. I don't particularly care about the war, except for the fact that I know he'll be coming for me at some point, and as for my future..." Harry sighed, then realized that a few of the others were coming into the room now. He hurried to finish the entry. "Well, anyway, I've got to get to bed, first day of classes tomorrow and everything. I hope my thoughts don't become this crazy all the time now that I'm writing them down." He carefully put the journal away under his pillow and slipped the ink and quill onto his bedside table before slipping under the covers and closing his eyes. What changes awaited him when classes started up again? He had a feeling this year would be different from the last, in significant ways. M Moonlight flickered through the tower window dancing patterns across Matilda's brow. "Keeper," it whispered, "the Keeper," her brow creased. Even in death all of nature spoke to her, "the Keeper wakes." She opened her eyes. She remembered a time long long ago when a student had asked her if ghosts slept. It had been a difficult question to answer, because the answer was yes all the time and no, not really.She rose and picked her sewing up from the ground. "The Keeper, he wakes, now, it's time," the moonbeams called in their musical voices. "Yes, I've heard you already." She brushed the creases out of her long skirt. "I'll go." She lifted a candle which flickered and lit. Then began the long walk to the depths of the tower. It was a long way to the room of secrets, but if the Keeper was waking up she needed to go. The door to the room of secrets must be opened. The tower must be cleaned. The winds had told the truth, it was time for students to come to the locked tower once again. As she walked she could feel the sleep of a boy, a strong wizard. He would be the first to come. He seemed so young to her, but there was no question about it, he belonged. Finally she arrived at the door. Unsealing its many locks her heart swelled with warmth. She would no longer dwell alone. It was true. The time had come for the locked tower to be open once more. Matilda took hold of the door and pulled on it with all of her ghostly strength. It creaked an echoing protest as she pulled. For long moments it seemed it would not open, not matter what, then it sprung forward magic bursting forth. The tower was covered with light. Every bit of dust flew from the tower in a puff. The sound was deafening and yet no one heard it. Well, no one except the future students of the tower. "Matilda, good morning." It was the Keeper, he'd risen from his slumber. * "There, I believe that should do it," Severus said as Draco drank the potion he'd been given, trying not to wince from the taste of it. The warming sensation that followed was wonderful. Finally he had release from the constant pain. "Severus, what side are you on?" Draco was sure he saw a startled look before Severus returned to his normal impassive expression. "You should know the answer," he said firmly. Draco sighed. "How am I supposed to believe that you know what side you're on when you answer me like that?" Honestly, he couldn't understand his godfather. Severus had the ability to state his side firmly each way without a flicker of emotion. It was impossible to tell what was in his heart and Draco knew he had one. It didn't matter what anyone else did or said, he knew Severus to be a caring man. He didn't know if he'd have made it without his godfather being there to look out for him. "How can you not know?" Severus dodged in a way that was more than a little familiar to him. Then he heard a faint, muffled explosion, like the release of a huge puff of air right next to him. Looking around he saw nothing. "What was that?" Severus looked at him with an expression of concern, his brows slightly raised. "What was what?" * Harry woke with a sudden jolt. He'd heard... something. What was it? He slipped out of his bed and looked out of the window to see something shining, glowing, like a tower, but there was no tower in that direction. He rubbed his eyes and groped around for his glasses. How could he be seeing something over there? Matt - Nomad Hermione and Ron knew something was wrong with Harry as soon as he sat down to breakfast. He didn't reach for the toast he normally had first, nor his other normal option of scrambled eggs and bacon. Instead he had opted for a meagre amount of strangely shaped cereal without suger. That wasn't Harry. Nor was the lack of appetite. "Harry?" Hermione called a little more loudly after the eighth repetition of his name, "Harry? What's wrong?" "Huh?" Inarticulation was normal so she smiled slightly and handed him some coffee, hoping that the spaced look in his eye was just sleep lingering. "What's wrong? You're completely out of it." Ron said, blunt as ever. "Oh? No I just had a really weird dream last night -" Harry noticed their panicked expressions, "Oh no it was nothing like that. You know, it seemed real but it was right here at Hogwarts, I was sure I was awake but I couldn't have been. There's nothing there now." "Does your scar hurt at all?" Hermione was as pratical as ever, zooming straight for the most likely cause of her friend's distress. "No. Not at all. Actually... It was totally normal..." Harry frowned, "It didn't feel like a dream. And there was nothing dark. Just weird. And I felt like I haven't slept at all..." "It was probably just a normal dream then Harry, one that just made you restless. Sometimes it happens." "Yeah..." But it had been so real it had frightened him. The glowing tower that had shimmered into place between the Astronomy Tower and the Lower West Wing... Nothing should have been there... Nothing was there today... He didn't understand but he knwe he wasn't going to sit and pretedn it meant nothing. Never was something so simple as a dream in his life... Especially since he could have sworn he'd seen an almost ethereal pair waving at him from a window. It didn't make much sense but he was sure there had been an element of truth. Maybe he should check the Marauders Map... * Draco noticed Harry wasn't looking so good as soon as he entred the Hall. His eyes had that edge to them that he had noticed was only there when he was confused or unhappy about something... Though he wasn't sure what... That glassy look made him worry... A nightmare? He wanted to ask but knew he couldn't. He had to keep up a facard that even Harry, the one who had exposed his reality, couldn't see through any more... The cold face that he had learnt off his father was back in place. The dull ache in his limbs was fading and he turned it into a grim smirk that betrayed nothing. Glacing up at Severus, he noticed that the potions master was also considering the Gryffindor carefully. He wondered if Severus would believe him if he told him about how Slytherin Harry could be, especially in his humour... No he didn[t think the man could take it... He'd probably pass out at the mere thought of Harry being slightly Slytherin. Then again... No he was sure. A plate crashing on the floor made him jerk back to reality. Figuratively of course. He saw Harry was now sitting on the floor in a daze. He frowned. Harry was really out of it. Thinking about the other wizard mad ehim wonder... Did Harry feel that movement last night? Was that why he was so... anxious? No one else had noticed... But that explosive sound, that Severus had passed off as post-cruciatus... Maybe Harry had heard it too. "What are you thinking...?" He murmured quietly, rising to his feet, ready to leave for first lesson. "What's who thinking Drakey?" He scowled and rounded on the voice of the one and olnly Pansy Parkinson. She was fine. Really. She knew he wouldn't marry her in a million years and was perfectly happy with that. And yet she still insisted on the most ridiculous of appearences. And of course there was the malicious gleam in her eye that told him he would be confiding everything from his holiday with her very very soon. Stormy is Editing "No one of consequence," Draco said, his familiar drawl coming from his lips. He gave her a smile that told her he had plans with her after classes, and she gave him the briefest of winks to signify that she would meet him indeed."I see, then you shouldn't be wondering Drakey, honestly what would people think?" She came closer to him and handed him a strawberry. "Do you have time for me this afternood Draco? I'd really love to spend some time out on the grounds." Draco pretended to consider her request, and finally nodded, "How about by the lake? I rather like the large tree's there, plenty of privacy." She giggled and Draco lightly licked his lips. She nodded. "Absolutely. I'll look forward to it," she said and returned to her plate of food. How was he going to last through the whole day without bursting at the seams with the information in his head, and heart? Draco didn't know, but he did know that she was still a friend, and more of a real friend than anyone else he knew. Draco looked across the hall at Harry, who was now being helped back into his seat by his two friends. Well, now he had another friend who he really could count on, and all he needed to do was to write back to those silly, but enlightening, posts in his journal. M Harry found himself drifting off into thought all day. It wasn't completely unusual for him to day dream, but this was the worst bout of it he'd ever had. Hermione and Ron tried to keep him out of trouble with the teachers, but it was nearly impossible. There was only so much they could do. After a full day of loosing points and getting laughed at Harry found himself wandering the school halls right up to the position he'd seen that strange tower.It bothered him. Why had he seen it? Where had it gone? Was it truly just a dream? He sunk to the ground against the wall pulling out his diary. Dear Hedwig, The strangest thing happened last night and I don't know if it was real or not. I thought it was. I heard this loud noise, which woke me and when I went to the window to look out I saw a tower. It wasn't one of the towers we're used to though, it isn't there this morning, but last night it looked so real. I wonder if it was real? If it was then where could it have gone. If magic can do all of the things I've learned to do with it then couldn't it hide a tower. The thing is why would it? I mean if there is an extra tower here what would it be for? No one's ever mentioned it before. It's just that I can't stop thinking about it. I'm in the hall nearest to it right now. That is nearest to where it would be if it really existed. There's nothing different about it. I can't find an extra door or even anything unusual. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow to look around again. Harry stopped, putting everything away and standing up. Writing in the little book was becoming addictive. It was like he couldn't stop. Of course part of that was the fact that so much was happening. With a last look up and down the hall he left, heading for the Gryffindor common room. Matt - Nomad Harry Potter couldn't sleep again. His eyes were watching the window, wondering if that tower would appear again. It hadn't now, for two days. But he still watched. He sighed. He wanted to talk to Damian so badly but he'd sent a horribly short letter in reply to the one that the other boy had sent because he'd been just so tired... So tired and so confused. Whoever had the other diary hadn't replied either and he was wondering if Damian was actually right about it having a matching partner. He sighed again, sitting up. He had to write to Damian saying thank you properly and apologising for his rudeness before. He had to explain.... Dear Damian, I just want to say thank you again, so much, for the diary. You have no idea how useful it's already becoming. So many weird things have been happening here and it's only the third day. I'm slightly worried because nothing abnormal concerning me seems to turn out good. I think it's heriditary bad luck or something because it really sucks. Anyway, I'm hoping you're alright at home and all that. I really hope nothing horrible happened to you. I hope, with all my heart, that youaren't angry at me for not thanking you properly before. Prehaps I should explain.... You may think I'm going nuts... But by 'weird things', I mean... I'm seeing things. Well one thing in particular. I can see it from Gryffindor, this twer which seems to appear from nowhere. The first time there was a huge crashing sound too but.... Nothing much has really happened since. And I can hear voices. Mutterings talkng about a 'keeper' and it's a little like when my friends discovered I speak paseltongue.... No one else hears it but me... I'm scared. I'm sorry if I offended you and for now spilling out this excuse. But I hope you understand and that you're being treated okay where ever you are right now. I really miss you, Harry * Draco on the other hand was also writing, unable to sleep and not only because of the strange magical aura he was feeling coming from the sentient castle. He couldn't take his mind off Harry either. Harry.... His vibrant, powerful friend that had opened him up, opened his eyes. How stupid he must have been to have not realised how many people simply wanted to know him because he was him and not his fathers son. Atleast that's how he had come to see it. Blaise, Pansy, even his faithful henchmen. They had grown up before him, he guessed. Or maybe he had just been too blinded by his father to believe anyone would want to befriend him for any other reason than his connections. And it didn't help that althought Harry didn't know who he was... Harry was ignoring him again. Harry wasn't being hurtful or spiteful, but then he never really had been unless provoked first. But the dark haired wizard was making his heart bleed by ignoring him when he didn't know the truth. That was why it wwas time for stage two. That was why he was writing. * Dear stranger, Before you go pouring out any more of your rather intimate feelings into this journal, I would just like to point out that whatever you write, I can see, and vice versa. It’s funny how I only got this journal a couple weeks ago, and you write in it not long after – ironic timing? I can’t believe I’m writing in a diary. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always thought of it as a rather girly thing to do. Especially when said diary was bought primarily because I’m having love issues. It reminded me of all those silly lovesick girls from school, so caught up in their desires to be loved that they never learned how to stand on their own. I can't stand to watch them, acting like having the perfect boyfriend is the only thing that matters in life. Of course, that was back when the diary itself wasn't writing to me. Or a stranger writing as the case would seem. Now, well, I was afraid of acting just like them but obviously someone else got there first. More or less. I found myself at a loss for words when I realised that the empty diary I'd bought was infact shaking and glowing odd colours. It took me even longer to read what had been said and to realise that this book was no ordinary book and that I should probably be writing back... So on a first note I'd like to say: my name is not Hedwig. I am not a medievil witch. I am a modern day wizard and though it's probably not safe to tell you my actual name I really hope you can chose one which doesnt make me female in future. And yes that's my humour on this matter. I dare say you want me to say something comforting about this experiance of yours. And as a matter of fact I dare say I actually can because things at my end are certainly not one hundred percent normal. Things keep on happening and last night I even asked myself if too many sleepless nights had shaken me up more than I thought. Things weren't that good before I came here. Here being a school. So I just couldn't help but wonder if, my mind was crumbling away under some pressure I'm trying to overcome. I promise, however, I’m not some Agony Aunt though. Yes I can empathise with you over these oddities occuring in your life but I’m a real flesh and blood person. If that's what you're after at the end of the day, then I suggest you burn this book right now. I did read your words and I'm sorry if you want a more sympathetic ear. Now on this teacher though... Isn't he a potions master? There's a lot about him in Potions Today. He seems well respected. My potions professor often commends the work Master Snape has done for the industry. though from what you say I guess he could just be usful at potions and a horrible character... Though I dare say, if he's anything like my professor, he's probably terribly misunderstodd and really cares for those he teaches, even if he doesn't often show it. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight, with all these people again but none of them being him. Him being the reason for me purchasing a journal in the first place. He’s been there most every night for so long. It feels empty despite being so full. I feel empty. Gods, listen to me, once again I'm sitting here like some little lovesick fool. I can stand on my own two feet! I know I can! We didn’t break up. He kissed me before he left. That’s a good sign. And I’ll have a little more time to myself now. This could be really good for me. It’ll give me a chance to catch up on some reading I’ve been meaning to do (especially considering the books I get for Yule and my birthday every year!) and I can start figuring out what else I’m interested in. I've always been too busy to figure out what I want for myself. This afternoon at school was rough (which is why I now find myself needing sleep though I am incapable), but I was lucky enough to have a few distractions. I hung out with some friends that I never really realised were actually trying to help me... I've decided that prehaps I ought to let them closer to me... Let’s just hope it works. And then we ordered out for supper. The food was delicious! I had the best Fettuccini Carbonara, and fresh baked garlic bread! So, overall, today was nice. It’s always good to see old faces in a new light, and they really do try to help, but it’s also hard to talk about things when I don't want them to know who exactly I think I'm falling for. It really sucked. Sometimes I feel like there’s no one in the world that can understand me. If you're going to keep pouring your heart and soul into this journal, then I can’t guarantee I will always be sympathetic though I find your words somewhat intriguing and I would love to discuss them with you maybe. Perhaps I could give you some constructive advice – although I doubt my qualifications on that score. Who knows, maybe you could even return the favour. As fate would have it we have been given a chance to communicate. It's now up to you if you want to continue. Yours a-male-who-is-NOT-called-hedwig Stormy is Editing When the journal started glowing, Harry stared down at it in horror. What on earth had made it do that? When he opened the journal to see if there was something odd happening, he watched as words started appearing on the pages. He realized then that whoever had the other journal was writing, and thats when he realized how much of his inner thoughts he'd written down, and how such information could be used against him. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if he ever met this person, and he hoped he wouldn't ever get the chance. He waited until everything was written, reread it all several times, then pulled the drapes around his bed and pulled out his ink and quill."Dear whomever you may be," he started writing. "I didn't intend to offend by calling you Hedwig. As I didn't have any idea who I might be writing to, I picked a name that is dear to me. I apologize if I made you feel feminine, but I've been told that all of us men are supposed to get in touch with our feminine sides. Perhaps I was trying to help you with that?" Harry chewed on the end of his quill and wondered if he should have said that or not. Well, what was done was done, best to just keep writing, right? "I can't come up with a name for you right now, perhaps you can come up with one on your own, and I'll sign this so you have a name to call me by. I would like to keep writing, I'm not looking for an Agony Aunt or someone to smother me with sympathies, I am old enough to not need such things, and as I've never gotten them I wouldn't know what to do with such behavior. I prefer honest and open communication, and if I want advice, perhaps I'll come here first and you can tell me what you think of my predicaments." Harry realized that the end of his quill was much shorter than he remembered it being, and he wondered if that was due to how much he chewed on it. "As for Snape, well, I don't want to get into a long conversation regarding him, but lets just say that I hate him, and that it's likely to remain that way. He's an ass, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. He thinks he's better than everyone else, and he rubs it in when you're wrong at anything. I don't think he should be a teacher, but that's my personal opinion. It'd take a lot to make me feel otherwise, and I don't think Snape has it in him to do such things." Harry sighed. "And lastly, as far as your... love interest... does this mean you're gay? It's only that I've been wondering things about myself as well, and I wanted to know if you knew you liked boys long before this particular boy, or if... well, if it was just this particular boy that you like." Harry sighed, and then reread his post and twirled the quill in his fingers. "Well, I don't have much to say regarding what you've written except what I've put down here, and I'm not sure why I started writing so quickly after you finished except that I felt I had to do so. In this light, I should probably stop writing and just go to bed. I will write again later, and I look forward to reading what else you have to write to me. "Yours," Harry chewed the end of the quill again, going over the names he knew and wondering who he should say this was from. Then a name popped into his head, and he didn't know why, but he was scribbling it down in a moment, "Tom." Harry closed the journal with a snap feeling his face redden horribly and he wondered what on earth had made him write that particular name in a journal, and on top of that... why on earth he had written so quickly after the other person had. Maybe he was wondering what was going to happen now, and maybe he was in for a terrible shock. Either way, his journal was now in his hands as he lay on his bed, wondering if the mysterious person on the other end was going to write back or leave it for the night. M Harry woke the next morning, still holding his journal. He stowed it away as his roommates woke, each getting ready for classes."Harry," Ron was excited about something, "have you heard?" "Have I heard what?" Harry yawned, hating the way Ron always had so much energy in the morning. "Have you heard about the teachers emergency meeting?" Ron asked urgently, pulling on his student robe. Harry blinked at him blankly. "Didn't we both just get up?" "Yeah, but I overheard them talking about this in the common room. Classes are delayed until after the meeting. Maybe they'll tell us what it's about at breakfast." Harry looked around realizing that all the students were dressing quickly. It seemed everyone thought news might be gotten at breakfast. He dressed as well, to Ron's constant nagging. "Hurry up Harry, we don't want to miss anything." "Why don't you just go without me?," Harry asked finally. "I would never do that mate." Harry knew that should have made him feel better, but it didn't. It made him feel worse. He and Ron were some of the last to enter the dining hall. Hermione waved them over to the table. "Can you believe they still haven't said a thing? Come on, sit down." Harry sat, glancing around the hall. His eyes met with those of Draco Malfoy for a moment. He had the oddest feeling, a sort of hot chill. He looked away abruptly wondering why he felt that way. What a coincidence, or was it? Had Malfoy been looking at him purposely? No, why would he have been? "Quiet everyone," Dumbledore said from the front table, "I have a brief announcement." Silence fell quickly as every pair of eyes focused on him. "An emergency meeting will be held this morning of the utmost importance. All instructors will attend the meeting. Therefore classes will be delayed. I know that many of you would like to know the purpose of the meeting." The room collectively held its breath in anticipation. "Unfortunately I cannot tell you," everyone groaned in unison. "I'm sorry, but I can tell you that most of you will not be affected directly by what we are discussing. Now, as we are all hungry, let us eat." He sat down and the room burst into activity, everyone voicing their disappointment at the same time. "How can they keep this secret?" Hermione was asking from across the table. "If it's really an emergency then I think the students have a right to know what's going on." "I know, it's totally not fair," Ron agreed as he filled his bowl with cereal and passed it to Harry, "don't you think so mate?" Harry took the bowl and blankly spooned some onto his plate. "Yeah," he replied, looking at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was talking to his friends, completely oblivious that he was being watched. When their eyes had caught... what was that feeling. "Harry!" Hermione's voice was quite loud. As he turned to look at her he noticed that Malfoy's head turned as well. "What?" Harry looked at Hermione, annoyed, then glanced back, but Malfoy had already turned away again. "Since when do you put cereal on your plate?" Hermione asked him. Harry looked down at the cereal and then up at Hermione. "Er..." he looked at Ron, then passed the cereal to the person on his other side, "thought I'd eat it dry today," he said, picking up a piece and popping it into his mouth. Matt - Nomad Harry had habits. Draco had noticed them over the years. Small things like how when he was in really good mood he'd have toast with strawberry jam and if he was angry he'd opted pancakes because he ould stab them... Or if he was worried, like today, he did something stupid. Like pou cereal on his plate. He'd done that before with orange juice. Smiling ruefully at the memory he glanced up at the teacher's table which was now mostly empty, almost all of the teachers having come and gone in just a few minutes. Something was really up. Was it a death eater issue or....? His eyes flickered back to Harry who was now picking at the dry flakes sheepishly.... Was Harry in danger? He shook his head again and passed the elderflower cordial along to his sweet toothed friend, Blaise Zabini as Pansy whispered something to him about trying to find out what was going on before slipping away. Frowning he watched her retreat. Being pensive was really not going to be helping his skin... Then he laughed slightly, startling Blaise, as he recalled his mother's voice some years before telling him that 'wearing your emotions on your face is very bad for you skin. You'll get wrinkles and look older when you're younger.' She really was a stupid woman when he thought about it. "What's put you in a good mood?" Greg asked looking suspicious. "Nothing important. Just thinking." He said with a half smile that saw Vince's spoon clatter to the table and Draco kept laughing. * Harry was scared. He had that twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach that made everything sensitive and far too loud and distant. It felt alien. That was the word. Scared and confused. But he was also confused. You're being paranoid. His conscience had an almost mocking laugh sometimes and he scowled, pushing the dry cereal away and making to leave without saying goodbye to his friends. "Harry?" Hermione sounded concerned... But he didn't want concerned right now. He wanted someone to tell him that everything was normal. He wanted someone to remind him that he was not going mad. Despite what it seemed. He wanted Damian. A small shudder ran through him as he made his way out of the hall and headed towards the library. Breathing steadily he thought about the diary. Wondered if his new aquaintence would have replied or not. Or if Damian was at that moment reading his letter or even replying. How had such a short time managed to make him feel so connected to an otherwise perfect stranger. So what had Dumbledore said? That most people would not be affected by the reason for the teacher's distress? Or something like that? So did that mean that maybe the teachers could hear the voices? Because manybe... maybe this and what he was seeing, hearing, whatever, were connected. God he hoped so. And yet he didn't. What if he was what was wrong? What if they weren't connected and he was really cracking up? * Dear Tom, I'm glad you wrote back. Some things have been happening which have disturbed me. No one else seems too worried but I am. I'm worried that something dramatic is going to happen and shake up everything I know. I'm worried that the one I'm falling for is in danger. Let's talk about something else. How are you? Have things improved somewhat at your end? I dont know why but I hope so. I hope so so badly. I don't have much to say. I'm traying to be calm but I'm not. Not really. It's like he's right there but I can't do anything to help. I can see he's unsettled but can't do anything. THIS IS DRIVING ME MAD. I should go. I've got to sort some stuff out with the people I'm living with. Yours, Luc * Stormy is Editing Harry, his breathing steady and his whole body finally calmed down, walked into his room and opened up his journal. There was the new post, and he read it three times before picking up his pen.Luc, I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but I know that things haven't improved overall on my end. Something strange is going on with our teachers here at school, and I'm not sure what that is. On top of that, I've been incredibly distracted of late, and can't help but wonder if really am going mad. I'm doing things that aren't like me, and I feel like... feel like... well, I feel like crap. Harry looked over what he'd written so far and wondered if he should keep writing or just stop there. He shrugged. I keep finding myself looking over at a table where my eyes shouldn't go, wondering why someone over there reminds me of someone I care about. It's disturbing because the one I care about has more manners, more grace and overall a better personality than the one I hate. I'm not saying names, but... Harry trailed off wondering why he did keep looking over at Draco. Anyway, I like your pen name,Harry snickered as he wrote that, and I'm glad it's easy to write. I like short names. I'm not sure why, but for some reason, just writing makes me feel better. I feel more calm, more relaxed, and I'm glad that I do. I'm really glad I was gifted with this journal and I hope that we can get along. Why don't you tell me more about this person who you're watching? Maybe I can help more. Tom Harry stopped writing and took a deep breath. He needed to be able to function and he felt like he might be able to do so now. He stowed the book away and stood up, searching for Ron and Hermione. M Classes started two hours late and ended two hours late. That seemed unfair to many students and there was a great deal of complaining. After all, it wasn't their fault that the teachers had to have some sort of top secret, emergency meeting. Still uncertain about the meeting Draco found himself spending most of his time watching his teachers trying to figure out what was going on.It was actually quite odd. Most of the instructors seemed excited, like they were looking forward to something. What did it mean? Severus Snape was watchful, Draco noticed that he was watching all of the students much more closely, evaluating them, really weighing their abilities. Draco didn't know whether to feel releaved or not. When they were finally free he found himself going straight for his journal to see whether Harry had replied or not. As he read, he knew instantly that Harry was starting to feel it. It was like the two of them had formed a bond and even as Draco pretended to be his usual self, or tried to, he could not. Harry was always on his mind. The problem was that Harry might start to figure things out if he continued to notice Draco. If he figured things out what would he do? Would he hate him? Draco wanted him to know but... it was too soon. Maybe he should do something to push Potter away and remind him how deep the hatred ran. On the other hand wouldn't that contradict what he really wanted? Tom, Draco wrote and then stared at the name for a long time. Did names matter? No, but the past did. He knew that very well. Everyone does things that aren't like them sometimes. I know I do. I have to. I mean you have to keep everyone happy don't you, but then sometimes your real self comes out and you do something else and other times you have things on your mind and you just aren't thinking about what you're doing. I've said some things I've really regretted when I wasn't thinking. He'd especially done so with his father. When dealing with his father one had to be very, very careful of each word said. I wouldn't worry about the person who reminds you of someone else too much. Sometimes that happens when two people have even a little bit in common, like social status of hair color, or even the way they eat. There, that might keep him from figuring things out too quickly, and give them more time to talk. I don't know if you can really help. He's just... he's my age and a lot of people expect him to do things which they shouldn't. I mean they ex0pect a lot more out of him then they ought to. There's a lot of pressure on him and I worry about what he'll be expected to do next. That was more than he should have said. Draco shook his head and decided to stop before he said even more. I don't really think he's in danger after all though. I'll just have to keep my eye out in case. Yours, Luc Draco closed the diary with a loud snap and looked around the room. It was deserted. He checked the time, nearly dinner time. Why hadn't anyone told him. He put the diary away and rushed out of the room. * Everyone else was asleep, but Harry was wide awake. He hadn't even changed for bed. He was staring at Luc's last diary entry. What was he trying to find there? He wasn't sure. The way Luc always signed his entries using the word yours made him think funny things. It seemed a bit too friendly. Harry shook his head, it was a common enough way to sign a letter, wasn't it? He groaned and flipped over. What was wrong with him? Maybe it was hormones. He seemed to be developing feelings for every guy he met these days. His stomach turned. No, not everyone, not Ron, or Dean, or Neville, or... He heard the sound of a coin dropping and sat up, startled. Carefully he peered around the room for the source of the sound. In the center of the room a coin spun, round and round, bright silver spinning. There was not a person in sight. He looked up at the ceiling, nothing. Slowly he moved to the center of the room, reached for the coin and snatched it off the ground. It felt oddly warm in his hand. He moved into a stream of moonlight and held it up to examine it. On one side there was a tower etched. The tower seemed very familiar. On the other side were two words, 'Seek It'. He stared at it for several moments then closed his hand around it and grabbed his invisibility cloak. That was it, that tower had to exist and he was going to find it. Matt - Nomad Draco woke with a start. He felt hot then cold, shakey.... Something was wrong. What was going on? A feather was floating, silver then gold from the roof of his bed, luminescent and drifting from side to side. With flare of white gold light the lilt of a song drifted through his head and he sat up reaching for the strange intruding feather. It settled into his palm then began to burn. Biting his lip he forced down the yelp that nearly escaped as fire simmered through his arm in a manner that reminded him of one of his father's punishments. Yet what magic was this? He found himself slipping on his dressing gown, the black silk falling in a dark cloak about his shoulders. His skin was still burning. His insides were still far too cold. He wasn't scared but the pain was causing his brow to crease. And there was a driving force behind him now that made his limbs go without him. Was he dreaming? He suspected that he was. And his skin was beginning to cool as along his right arm silver lines spread in strange, archaic emblems through his skin. This had to be a very strange dream. A very strange dream. Well if it was indeed a dream he could just let it run it's course... And he'd end up resting in bed in the morning when he really woke up. Draco relaxed into his body, trying to ignore all the reasons why this wasn't a dream and let his feet and the pull of his blood take him. * On the other hand Harry was sure that this wasn't anything to do with his imagination. He kept his wand out but not to much, he wanted to make sure that he was ready to conceal it if he saw or heard anything. The whispers were back. They were crawling over his senses with velvety voices, "Time to meet the Keeper. Time to open the doors. The tower's been unlocked and so our siren calls." They were becoming louder, growing in volume and in might, "Time to meet the Dreamer. Time to show you the way. The key to the door is open but only til light of day..." Laughter glittered out of the walls and the whole corridor seemed to shine in a blue-purple rain. The portraits didn't stir. And that was when the silvery figure of Draco Malfoy walked through the corridor ahead of him. Turning in a miasma of ethereal light that Harry could only gasp at. The other boy didn't seem to be entirely there as he span in a circle, gazing at the walls. His skin was shining through with symbols and runes Harry couldn't understand. "What the hell is going on?" Harry asked himself through his teeth. Cautiously he walked after the Slytherin, noticing that the way the other was shimmering was the way that the Tower he would glow. Not to mention the undeniable fact that it wasn't only the way the aura about Draco was shining that was making Harry look at him. * He had to turn left here. Go left. But it's only a wall here. But it's only a dream. It doesn't matter. Draco found himself pressing his body to the cold stone of the wall. And his skin seemed to burn again, flaring into life. Pushing out of him. Out and into the cold. But still there. Oh yes the heat was still inside him. * Initius Partus Grey stone walls peeled back into an alcove. Into a corridor. Into the entrance of a place Harry had never seen before. Silver writing coursed around the edges but only the latin was legible. Draco looked weak now. As if he was about to pass out and Harry rushed forward, worried as the other boy in his black gown staggered forward into the cavern, his skin losing some of that glow. And as Harry stepped through the doorway there was an expulsion of energy and he felt himself tumbling through the air, colliding with Draco and being all too aware of the unconciousness that was overriding his unwilling mind. M Two boys had arrived! Matilda whooshed back and forth between the bodies. Would they wake soon? She could feel already that both held great power, although of different types. Perhaps there would be more students. If there wouldn't and there were only these two, they just had to survive."I will take them up to the beds," the Keeper said. "Calm down Matilda, you're making me dizzy." Matilda stopped moving completely, hovering over the light haired boy. Platinum hair, she hadn't seen platinum hair like that since... "Malfoy, he's a Malfoy," she reported excitedly, "he has to be." "It appears so doesn't it?" The Keeper levitated both boys and began walking down the corridor. Matilda moved to the other boy studying him closely and shaking her head. "I don't know, I just don't know." The Keeper placed each boy in a bed, covering them and drawing away to tend the fire. "His blood is mixed," he said, "he isn't of a pure line." "The poor boy!" Matilda looked him over again closely. "He must suffer terribly for it." "It may not be as big of a deal these days. It has been a long time since we visited last." The Keeper walked to the door which led out of the room. "Make sure they are taken care of and call me when both are conscious. I must speak with the current headmaster. I'm certain our presence has been sensed by the instructors by now." He turned away, closing the door behind him. * Harry woke, feeling fully alert, but slightly numb. As he stretched and looked to his side his eyes caught on a form. "Damian?" Then he saw the hair and realized, "Draco?" He sat up and backed away a bit as memories filled his head. "Good morning," Harry turned with a start to look at the woman who'd spoken. To look through her actually. She wore a long simple brown dress with a high collar, her hair was a mix of grey and brown piled neatly atop her head, "welcome, my name is Matilda." "Matilda?" "I'm the ghost of this tower." Harry stared at her, then looked all around him. They were in a tower bedroom, but he'd never seen one like this before. All metal was tricolored with a mix of silver, bronze and gold. The fabric was black. That was one color from each of the houses. Matt - Nomad "What the hell is going on?!" Harry exclaimed and tried to stand, wobbling precariously as he did so. Giving up on standing he sat back down at the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. "You've been selected to join the House of Endor." The ghost settled at the other end, hand resting close to his feet, "It's a House that only awakens for a special few." Seeing that Harry wasn't about to take that as an explination she sighed and continued a little more slowly, "Hogwarts is sentient and when she detects two people who are of equal merit and power, two people who-" She paused and looked at Draco before returning her gaze to Harry, "You two are rivals?" Harry narrowed his eyes. How had she known that? Slowly he nodded and glared, "Something like that." "Oh." There was something she wanted to say, he could tell, but which she didn't want to say at the same time... Smiling after a second too long she started to explain again, "The point is that you two have been selected because both of you are powerful enough and strong enough in body to take the Transition." She glanced at Draco again, the expression on her face telling Harry that if he had been awake she wouldn't have needed to explain everything like this, "The Transition is something very few Wizards or Witches manage to complete. Many start it without realising but because their powers are not strong enough it simply stops before it can develop. Some notice changes in themselves because their powers are able to take them to the second stage of Transition, such people as the current head master I believe." Smiling she paused for a breath she didn't need and the continued, "People like you and Draco Malfoy here are special because you will be able to complete the Transition as you have each other. If you didn't then your powers would manifest themselves and well... destroy you." It was then that Draco began to stir. Harry's attention diverted to the platinum blond. He really did look like Damian... Stormy grey eyes winced at the light in the room and he let out a little moan of discomfort, "What..." * Draco hated waking up in the mornings, especially when his body felt like it had been subjected to hours of menial chores... Or at least as if Dudley Dursley had thrown him repeatedly against a wall once again... He cracked open his eyes, he could hear voices, a woman's voice... Explaining... Explaining... His brain was foggy and he couldn't understand the words properly, "What..." He mumbled, flinching away from the light that burnt through his retinas. He turned his head, looking for Pansy who must have come into his room and saw green eyes looking back at him, "WHAT the-" He sat bolt upright. Only Harry had those eyes. "Potter!" "Hello Malfoy." This was possibly even more awkward then it had been watching the boy-who-lived from afar, seeing him up close and knowing that he hated him still. He winced, this time not from the sunlight. Looking around he dragged his eyes around the room, across the ambience and the colour scheme to where a ghost sat comfortably on Harry's bed. "I'm Mathilda the ghost of this tower." And it all came flooding back to him, the way he had left his room, the pain that had flowed into him followed by a glowing under his skin that left him feeling complete and warm and satisfied only to burn back into pain. He remembered words... remembered the corridors... Thinking baout it suddenly made him feel empty... So empty that it was as if a huge hole had been bored straight through his chest and stomach. Tears threatened to spill over his eyes as he remembered that completion. Mathilda moved to sit beside him, "I'm sorry you have to feel like this." He knew that she meant it, that she understood exactly what was going on inside him. "I have to go and tell the Keeper, I'll be back in a few minutes," She whispered to him, "Harry, look after him." Harry look after him? Why would Harry look after him? Harry was something Damian had not him, nevermind that they were the same person with different faces. He looked up at the ceiling and refused to let the tears fall, no matter how much it hurt to have lost that feeling from last night... * Harry watched for only a moment as Draco tipped his head backwards, Damian had done that in much the same way... Timidly he moved to sit beside his nemesis and awkwardly wrapped his arm around the slim shoulders. It felt strange, he felt Draco tense before he relaxed and dropped his head down. He patted the boy's back slightly, saying nothing as he felt Draco shudder slightly, he didn't know whether to recoil or not. It didn't feel wrong. It just didn't feel right. He thought of Damian and what he might say to him right now... And of Luc. "It's ok you know. You don't have to hold it in." He didn't know why Draco needed to cry. He only knew that it was something to do with this Tower... Prickles ran up his spine. He didn't think he liked it one bit. Stormy is Editing Draco wasn't one for feeling weak. He didn't like that feeling, he didn't like others knowing he had such feelings, but here he was, Draco Malfoy, not Damian Malloy, held gently in Harry Potter's arms, and Potter was telling his rival to cry.There was certainly something wrong with the world. Draco stiffened, and backed out of Harry's arms. He glared at Harry. "Why, so you can go to your mudblood friends and laugh at how Draco Malfoy was crying in your arms? I think not," anger had always worked for him in the past, but as Harry backed off, Draco felt a stab of anger, not for Harry, but for himself. "Fine, I'll remember that you never want any kind of sympathy," Harry retorted, his own anger getting the best of him. Yes, this is what Draco expected out of Harry, even if the words did make him cringe. "That's right Potter, no sympathy," Draco didn't realize he'd said the words out loud until Harry put a hand on his arm. He looked up and saw a strange mixture of pity and sorrow in Harry's eyes. "Malfoy, I don't know what bothered you so much, but can't you please not snap at me? It really isn't a bad thing to cry, nor is it a bad thing to feel, and I don't think you allow yourself to feel much." Draco blinked at him a few times, and then he narrowed his eyes. "You can't tell anyone," he snarled, and Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, who would I tell? Hermione and Ron both wouldn't have any interest in this. I'm not even sure if I'm going to tell them about this whole experience, it'll depend on what happens next." Draco relaxed, and Harry put his arms around him, less firmly more tentatively, once more. Draco felt that loss, felt that sadness once more, and allowed himself to hold on to Harry, to cry, seriously cry, for the first time in what felt like forever, but... wasn't it just this past summer? No, that was Damian, not Draco. Draco hadn't cried in years. After what was probably only a few minutes, but felt like a few hours, Draco's cries slowed down, and he looked up into Harry's eyes, his own feeling puffy and irritated. "Happy?" he croaked out, and Harry did something very strange. He grinned. "Yeah," he said, "I think you're feeling a bit better." Draco closed his eyes, feeling the heat of Harry right next to himself, and he wondered if he would be able to keep his feelings in the whole school year. It was on that note, that the door opened. M The man who entered was tall with broad shoulders. His hair was brown and fell in short loose curls around his face. His eyes were silver, slitted and cold, very unusual eyes. He wore a black robe with silver, bronze and gold threads running through it. They were subtle but gleamed in the candlelight when it caught the robe just so."Welcome to the House of Endor," his tone was brisk, and not especially welcoming. "The two of you will be completing extra course work here from now on. I will expect you at midnight nightly. We have much to cover and not a lot of time to do it." "I don't understand," Harry objected rising again and glaring at the man. "Why are we here? What happened to Draco." For some reason that was the burning question. What had made Draco need to cry? He was angry on his enemies behalf. Honestly it was baffling. "Ha... Don't speak to him that way Potter," Draco glared at Harry. "He's like a head of house, you don't take that tone with your head of house." Harry glared at Draco defiantly, but took a seat on his bed again. Throughout, the Keeper had seemed impassive. "You will call me Keeper Venor. These lesson's are not what you may be used to and you will not receive grades. The two of you will either survive or not survive based on the results. Of course initially your lives will not be in danger, but if you fail to work together, there will be consequences. In the end the two of you must work together to survive." His silver eyes seemed to glow at the end. Harry could not believe what he was hearing. He and Malfoy, had to learn to work together? That was crazy. It was impossible. Only now did Harry begin to wonder if this was some sort of nightmare. The man spoke again, "Tonight we will begin with a basic test. Your test begins now." Harry had blinked once and that was it. He was suddenly alone in total blackness. There was a cold stone floor beneath him. He pulled out his wand, "Lumos." The glow lit a small cave area, but there was no opening in it. Harry was surrounded by stone wall on every side. "Malfoy?" How were they supposed to work together if they were in different places? Harry stood and looked around again, but it didn't reveal anything he hadn't already seen. * Draco had been about to ask a question when the world rearanged itself in front of his eyes. Now he was staring at a hill, sitting on damp earth. He stood, so much for questions. The moon lit the area, but he saw no other figure. "Potter!" There was no reply. If they were supposed to work together he would have to find Harry. He began walking into the surrounding woods then stopped. There was likely to be some sort of time limit to this test. He couldn't just walk around looking for Harry. He needed to use magic. He summoned a messenger shadowbird. They took a certain amount of energy to maintain, but could go even where an owl could not. "Find Harry Potter," he told the bird, "and have him send his location to me." He had no paper, but the shadowbird should be able to carry his voice. When he stopped speaking the bird flew directly into the hill, disappearing from site. Draco stared at the hill. Harry was inside there? How was he supposed to get out. While he was waiting he began walking around the hill examining it carefully. Shortly the bird returned and spoke to Draco in Harry's voice. "I'm in a cave with no opening. How the fuck am I supposed to get out." Draco laughed, he couldn't help himself. He hadn't heard Harry so angry in a long time and for once Harry wasn't angry at him. So the inside of the hill had to be the cave and Harry couldn't see an opening. "Tell him to search the walls and the floor. There has to be a way to get him out. I'm searching the outside." Matt - Nomad Harry wasn't a fan of the dark. It made him irrational and prone to panic if he wasn't careful... That was probably a remnant of his extended stays in the cupboard-under-the-stairs. Sure he had his wand but it wasn't exactly a huge amount of light... He inhaled deeply trying to remember what it was that he had read in 'The Stickling Secret of the Sixth Sense' by Abernael Conon-Drum. Surely if he could tap into whatever gobbledy-gook Abernael had been chatting about he would be able to find his way out. ...Or maybe it had just been spurned out soft-soaping sillyness by a man suitably full of hogwash for Trelawny to engage with. That was more likely. But seeing as his hands as they travelled the length of the wall finding only sharp stone, and his feet shuffled carefully through the gloom seeking out any hint of an exit and failing.... Abernael Conon-Drum would have to do. And yet he was struggling to remember the vaguest bits of the book... Clear your mind. he remembered that much.... And where was Draco's bloody shadow bird. Surely his silver haired nemesis would have a better idea about escaping than he did... Afterall, Draco had lived in the wizarding world forever and probably knew all sorts of useful spells that harry had never had the chance to explore. Maybe he'd know some way Harry could blow up the side of this cave and get the hell out. That would be easier than remembering the ramblings of a man that died some time in the seventeenth century. Clear your mind and concentrate on the colours floating between your eyes. When these colours become a single shade try spreading that colour. That was what Harry could remember... Though he was slightly confused because he was having to translate from something akin to Shakespearean English which he was ashamed to admit, was about as challenging as staying awake in History of Magic. He cringed. "I don't know what you're doing in there Potter but I think there must be some sort of rock or lever or maybe even some runes on you're side of this hill. I'm going to climb to the top and see if there's any clues up there." The shadow bird too Harry by surprise, making him let out a small yelp and stumbled over a lump of white, glittering rock. He listened to Draco's voice. It reminded him of Damian... It had the same lilt, the same textures... Harry shook his head and turned to the bird. "Tell him I'm trying to remember what Abernael Conon-Drum said to do. Ask if he remembers what you're meant to do with the spreading colour. And if there's a spell which might help." The bird took off again. Hopefully it wouldn't have recorded his small cry of fright. Draco would never let him live it down. Wait... When had Malfoy become Draco? That was going to make Ron and Hermione look up... Right so the cave was high... he could tell that because the light rom his wand didn't reach the topmost peak of it. It also lead downwards if he moved towards the center. He wasn't sure he wanted to do that. Yet he was fairly sure that was the only plan in the cave he had yet to venture into. He scowled and picked himself up. This was ridiculous. How could anyone expect them to work this sort of thing out when they had no idea what was going on... Something about transitions and... and... Harry paled. Straight ahead of him in the hollow of the hill's centre was a table. White and sparkling like the rock he had fallen over before. It was carved straight out of the base it seemed, the ornate, twisting legs rising upwards and curling around the corners of the flat, rune covered, rectangle. It shone in the light given off by his wand and as he stepped closer he realised it was lighting up the whole cavernous hole. He shuddered. It gave off vibes that made his whole body feel weak and cold. He stepped closer. "Nice squeak there Potter. Very gryffindor. There's a sort of stone tree here at the top. It's a sort of white but it's not opaque. It has runes on it but there's an alcove in it's centre. A little like you see in the sides of the walls in muggle churches I think..." Draco paused and Harry let his breathing even out. How did Draco Malfoy know about muggle churches anyway? "There's a small basin. I think you're meant to put an offering of some sort in it. There's a rune:Tyr... sacrifice for success and there's another one. Though normally that one means blood. There's also a lot of writing referring to Mahatattva which is the sixth chakra or Ajna Chakra. It's referring to self-realisation. I think that's what we're doing here. Anything down there?" Harry told the bird what he could see before he dragged himself up to the table. Running all across the surface were thin indented lines leading from a circle in the centre. Grimly he suddenly realised what he was probably going to have to do... waiting for Draco's reply though... He also realised that even if he did do what he thought he had to do, he'd probably pass out and end up to weak to say the incantation carved around the central circle. Ils dialprt, soba upaah chis nanba zixley dodsih. Please Draco think of another way... Stormy is Editing Draco sighed, the most exasperating thing about Harry was that he wasn't certain of himself. He rolled his eyes, staring at the tree in front of him. Certainly if they could just figure out what it was, they could get Harry out of the cave."Tell me what's on the table, or around that area Potter, maybe..." Draco paused, then looked closer at the alcove. "Hmm... alright Potter, if you've got anything sharp, cut yourself and put your blood on the table. Let's see if that does anything." He sent the shadow bird back and it was only a moment later before he saw it again. "Are you out of your fucking mind Malfoy? Or do you just want to see me bleed to death? I'm not cutting myself up for anything other than a definite solution. Chew on that!" Draco sighed and rolled his eyes again. "Alright, fine," he said, walking around the tree again. "I'll cut myself and see if I end up down there with you, how does that sound?" he said it sarcastically, but he was being serious. The bird came back in record time again. "Fuck you Malfoy, I don't want to be trapped in the darkness down here with you, ever." Although, Draco had to admit that there was a little less conviction to his voice at that point. "I'd rather rot down here for the rest of my life." Draco smiled. "Fine, then do that," and he sent the bird back. He continued to look around, and then decided to climb the tree. He would wait until Harry got panicky and then would reply to him. "You're not leaving me down here forever, are you Malfoy?" Potter's voice was already starting to get panicky, and Draco wondered about that. Why would he get so freaked out so quickly. He sent the bird back without saying a thing, and lifted himself up into the tree. Climbing from branch to branch was not something Draco had had much experience doing before. Sure, when he was a kid he'd climbed a few tree's, at least until his father had found out and made him promise to stop. He didn't like that it was hard for him to find balance in the tree, and it was even more annoying when the bird came back and startled him. "Where the fuck are you Malfoy, get back here, damnit! Get back here!" Draco waved the bird away and made him return to Harry. He didn't have time for this. He leaned back in the middle of the tree and sat down for a moment, looking for anything that might clue him off on what he was supposed to do. He saw a small round knot in the branch near him and he put his finger to it. It seemed to respond to his touch, as it pulsed a little under his fingertip. Then, he pressed it and the whole tree started to shift. He wondered if he'd done a good thing or a bad thing by pressing it. The tree rotated a few inches to the left, then stopped. Draco got curious, and put the tip of his wand to the knot. Instantly he was falling. He fell several feet, and then, and then, he was landing on a stone table. His butt hurt and the face of Harry Potter was suddenly in his own. "You were going to leave me here to die you bastard!" Harry said, his face bright red with anger. "You were going to leave me here to rot!" "Well, that was what you wanted, wasn't it?" Draco said, a small smirk on his face. Now that he was down here, how the hell was he getting back up? M "No, that's not what I wanted," Harry couldn't believe the two of them were now stuck down there together, "I wanted you to think of something else.""Look Potter," Draco stood up, moving away to look at the table, "I can only come up with so many ideas." He stared at it, then looked at Harry. "It's obvious isn't it, you need to bleed here, until the lines fill than say the incantation." "I know that, but that can't be the only way," Harry couldn't seem to control his voice at all and the anger was melting into fear. There was no way for Draco not to notice how scared he was. Draco was staring at him. "If we know one way why look for another?" "Because I, that's a lot of blood Malfoy, what if I passed out before I could say the incantation?" "Oh honestly," Draco pointed his own wand at his wrist and used a spell to release a slow trickle of blood, holding it above the proper place in the center of the table. "Now, give me your wrist." Harry felt his eyes widen as he took a step away shaking his head. "Look, Potter, how exactly would you call this working together if I do it alone?" Harry winced and moved forward, offering his wrist as he wondered if he'd gone mad, because when Draco's wand touched his wrist it seemed familiar somehow. When his wrist, held over the same place as Malfoy's, brushed against the other boys it sent shivers down his spine. That would be fine if they were normal shivers, but they weren't they had to do with attraction. He couldn't be attracted to Draco Malfoy. There was no way. Their blood spread to fill the tiny lines and finally Draco spoke the incantation. The two of them were back in the bed chamber again. "Not bad," Matilda said with a smile, looking from one to the other. "No, not bad," Keeper Venor's tone was quite different from Matilda's, "absolutely appalling. What was that exactly?" "I can't help it that he..." Harry began. "It isn't my fault he..." Draco had begun at the same moment. "Enough," Keeper Venor held the two of them with his eyes. "The two of you will spend some time thinking about what it is to work together. I will see you back here tomorrow at midnight." Draco nodded immediately. "Yes sir," he knew a dismissal when he heard one. Would Harry ever actually be willing to work with him? Maybe it would be better to tell him who he really was? "I don't understand, we weren't even in the same place. How can you expect us to work together when one of us is in one place and the other is elsewhere." Harry objected, glaring at the Keeper. "I suppose you had better think about that hadn't you. Matilda will show you out." He turned away and went to the fire where he stood in silence. "This way," Matilda lead them to the door, and through the tower until they were at the door to Hogwarts. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do well." "Easy for you to say," Harry grumbled as he opened to door to go. He and Draco parted in silence. Harry was glad to sink back into his own bed and sleep for the last few hours left to him. Matt - Nomad Draco had never been quite so tired in his life. He woke up in his bed in his slytherin coloured room and groaned. There was no way he was moving... He had barely slept... Couldn't even remember how he had managed to get himself down into the dungeons and then up into his room. Maybe it had all been a dream...? But no, he looked at the red gash where he'd peirced his skn with the knife before and sighed. It wasn't a dream at all. "Drakey!" Pansy's dulcet tones scuttled down his ears and raked themselves through his mind. She had to be loud in the mornings. He scowled and mumbled into his pillow a string of curse words. "I can't believe this." She was standing in his doorway, he could tell from the draft tickling his feet and the manner in which she spoke. She had finally seen him having a lie-in, "Draco Malfoy's going to be late for potions." He sat up fast. Then swayed where he was for a moment as dizziness and nausia poured over him. He groaned and sank back again, head pounding and his limbs turning to jelly. Was he sick? His skin felt clammy and he seemed to ache everywhere... What was wrong with him? "Draco?" Pansy was by his sie in an instant, her hand on his forehead and testing hs temperature, "You've got a fever Draco. What's wrong with you? You're never ill." Because Snape always made him better before anyone noticed he was weaker than usual... Being a Malfoy had always left him vunerable, which was why he had Vincent and Greg to protect him in school. For the most part it was also why he had been so vindictive... Because not only was it his father's will but if people believed he could stand up for himself they would be less inclined to hurt him for just his family's reputation. It didn't make much sense really... But it had worked for the most part. "I'll go get Pomfrey." "No." He croaked and winced at the sound of his own voice, "Get Snape." She hesitated and nodded and yet still lingered in the door as if she wanted to say something before she went... Then she was gone and Draco was left blissfully alone. Sighing he screwed up his eyes against the daylight and settled into a light meditation that he had learnt from Snape when he'd been practising for occulumecy. Maybe that would come in useful with his and Harry's training. Waiting in the darkness behind his eyelids he felt both hot and cold, aching and uncomfortable everytime he became comfortable. God he hoped Harry wasn't like this. Focusing on Harry, on his eyes and his smile and the gentle way he had held him the night before, he slid away from the rest of the world completely. * "Dray... co?" Harry mumbled rolling over and half falling out of bed. Mumbling he sat up, pushing himself away from the floor with a moan of exertion. Alone in the dorm... That was a nice thing. His head pounded slightly and he kept on feeling as if he was mising something important somewhere but knew he had very little of any importance missing seeing as his broom was still in it's place by his bed. Last night had been long. He thought to himself about his cowardice and felt sick... He really was pathetic. But he had been faced with the dark, with small, enclosed spaces... He had been reminded of the graveyard when Draco had drawn the knife. He wanted to see Sirius and talk to him about it... But Sirius was dead... He frowned... Before he would have spoken to Dumbledore but he was beginning to think that he could trust the old man less and less considering everything he had let him go through by keeping the truth from him. No doubt he wanted him to one day die for Hogwarts and the wizarding world against Voldemort... Stormy is Editing Harry sighed and rolled over, trying to get himself back onto the bed. That was when he remembered his journal. He grabbed it from under his mattress and took out his quill and ink. Sitting carefully on the bed, he opened it up and started writing.Luc, I just woke up and realized that I am exhausted. Something really strange happened last night and I'm not certain what to do about it. Perhaps I should start at the beginning. I woke up last night to hearing strange voices in my head, and seeing weird lights. I was determined to find this tower that I had seen before, and started out after it. While I was out, I ran into someone, literally, and ended up falling down. When I came to, we were in a strange room with a ghost girl and we were being told we were going to be working together on a different type of curriculum. I don't understand it all, and in fact, it's rather bothering me. Let me try to explain a little more. The person I had to work with is my worst enemy. He hates me, I hate him, and now we're supposed to work together? What the hell kind of idea is that? We've dueled before for crying out loud. This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever had to deal with. And last night, while we were out in our "training", I swear he would have been fine killing me. Harry chewed on the end of his quill, that wasn't quite right, but he felt like it had been at the time. Well, not kill him, but... Let me rephrase that, he would have left me for dead. Then the psychotic bastard had the audacity to cut me and cause me to bleed all over this weird stone with him, and then it was all over. I don't understand what the whole thing was about, but once we were done, the ghost girl seemed pleased, and the person who was our "teacher", which he doesn't count as a teacher in my book because teachers should actually do something other than leave you for dead in some weird wilderness and tell you go work together to get out, didn't seem all that impressed overall. Then, we were told to return to the tower at midnight tonight. How the hell am I supposed to get sleep? Harry sighed. This was turning into quite an essay of emotion. Why did he trust his strange writing companion so much? On another note, I noticed a few things that was disturbing me last night, that was different. Remember how I said the person who I was with was my worst enemy? Well, he behaved in ways that reminded me of someone who was a friend of mine. It's really strange for me to feel this way, but I do, and it's something that I'm not quite sure how to handle. What is it about these two, very different, people that is the same. How can I like the one, and not the other? I'm at a loss. I mean, it's strange to me. Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm just mental and I'm imagining the whole thing. It's just certain mannerisms are similar, and there's something about the way he looks at me that reminds me of my friend. Perhaps I'm projecting or something? Well, I'm exhausted, I didn't know who to talk to, but now that I've remembered you, I feel a lot better. I'm looking forward to your reply, Tom Harry finished the entry and sighed. He was still exhausted, but he was feeling a little relieved now that he was done writing the entry. He leaned his head back, and relaxed, and found he was falling asleep again. That was fine, they'd find him later and wake him up and he'd get into trouble. He wouldn't mind trouble if he got to sleep a little more. It was a few hours later that he woke up, looked down, and saw that his journal was glowing. He hesitantly opened it and moved it to the new entry. What was Luc going to say to him now? M Draco woke to the feel of firm arms lifting him from his bed. He opened his eyes briefly and when the world spun dizzily around him clamped them shut again. He was set in a different bed. The cool sheets felt good against his skin. A few minutes later a potion was pressed to his lips and he drank the contents slowly. It filled his stomach and body with a cool sensation and the constant aching faded into the background as he drifted into a deeper sleep.The next time Draco opened his eyes he was feeling quite a bit better, and he was back in his bed. It often seemed to him that those moments away were imagined, but he knew Severus must have removed him from the room temporarily and the memory was real. He couldn't imagine Hogwarts without Severus, it would leave him too vulnerable and too alone. His friends weren't really friends most of the time, and his Head of House was not so much an instructor as he was a mentor. He wasn't sure what made him check the journal. It was probably the fact that he was still worried about Harry. One thing was certain, Harry had to be in better shape than he had been as the journal glowed brightly. He opened it to read Harry's entry. A part of him had the sudden desire to be done with the whole thing and tell Harry the truth. It was irritating really, hearing about himself and how terrible he was in the journal. Tom, He probably wouldn't have really left you there. I mean he didn't, did he? Besides, I've heard there are many spells which require blood to release. There may have been no other way out. I think you don't give instructors enough credit. Sometimes people learn more from experience than they do from lecture or reading. It isn't that I can't understand why you're upset. Draco paused and tried to think. The problem was he really couldn't and now that he'd started writing he had to finish somehow. He couldn't say he wasn't feeling well it would be too much of a coincidence. Maybe you don't really know this boy you think you hate and he's actually different from the image you have of him. It could be that you have misjudged him. Yours, Luc * Harry stared at Luc's entry. He sounded different somehow. Was it just because Harry wasn't feeling well. It's just he felt like Luc was being really short with him and there was something else. Harry wasn't sure what it was. He felt he should do something but he wasn't sure what. Harry lowered his head onto the journal page and fell asleep. Then, all of a sudden, Ron was shaking him. "Harry, wake up already. You've slept all day. I think you should go to dinner, don't you? Harry!" Harry opened his eyes blearily wishing Ron would just shut up. Ron's eyes focused on something below Harry's head. "Hey, what's this?" Ron asked, reaching to pick up the journal. Matt - Nomad "A diary, Harry?" Ron looked incredulous. His eyes meeting the frown of his eyebrows, "Since when have you kept a diary?""Since the Summer…" Harry mumbled, picking himself up off the floor with the precious book held to his chest. He had leapt for it, dashing it from Ron's hands before he could open it, before he realised just how many secrets Harry was keeping from him even now… He didn't want to tell Ron that Damian gave it too him either... That would just be plain awkward, "It was idea of Dumbledore's to help me contain my thoughts and so I can write down any dreams I feel are important. That way I won't forget them." Lying was so easy. Even to Ron. The words blended like sugar on a savoury dish, making life so much easier to bare, so much simpler to savour and muse on. Harry flinched internally. There was no way he was telling Ron about last night either. Imagining his response to the fact that yet again Harry had been picked out as special from everyone else or that Draco had been selected… He didn't want to consider it. "Oh right. Well I guess that makes sense…" Ron looked confused but at least a little relieved. He probably worried over it being like the Riddle Diary… Harry smirked, prayed it came out more reassuring than calculating which was how he felt right then, and settled back on his bed. How close Ron was to the truth… "Yeah… It's been a great help so far so it's all ok." More lies. How Slytherin Harry. Why was DRACO's voice in his head still. "I bet. Well I'm going to the library with Hermione. See you later?" Harry nodded. Noticing that Ron didn't even ask him to come with them these days. Was he right about how their trio was changing? Was it his fault? Wait he was still in pyjamas… That was probably why. The flood of cold washed warm with relief. "Sure. I'm still pretty tired though." "Right. Well get more sleep or something. See ya." And Ron was gone. Harry was left alone to muse on the short tone of Luc's last message to him. He almost felt upset… Judged… He had to think this through. He had been unfair to Malfoy in his last entry but… He didn't need to explain that to himself. He needed to explain it to his pen-friend... * Dear Luc, Sometimes you know… I think you're right. I don't give this rival of mine much chance to redeem himself in my mind. I am prejudiced against him. But if you knew the things he's done and said to me and my friends… Maybe you'd understand a little about why I find it so hard to get over the fact that two complete strangers have decided to thrust our lives together even more than they were before. I can't help but dislike him. I think he feels the same. In truth I have a feeling that my anger today was just taken out in my writing against him because he's an easy scapegoat in this situation. I think I'm more angry that yet another part of my life is going to be dictated by others. It's as if I'm just one more pawn in a world-wide game of chess… no matter what I do, my destiny is not my own. But maybe the reason for this change of heart, also probably due to the fact that I'm no longer so tired I can't think, is because of an incident I only just remembered from earlier. He would hate me even more for telling you this but I don't know you really and the likelihood of you knowing him are slim I guess… But the point in that today he cried. Really cried. As if he were completely broken by whatever happened when he found the Tower. I don't know how much I can say in that respect. I've an urge to tell you everything but then again I'm certain there'd be some rule about telling people something like that. I'm not good at analysing myself but I think what you said about him not leaving me there is also notable. The fact is of course that the bastards controlling this whole nightmare had me in a cave. I can't stand enclosed spaces. It's even worse if it's dark… Pathetic huh? I know why I'm afraid of them, I know that they make it hard for me to think rationally or with any common sense but I know that this guy has no reason to know or understand that. He probably thinks I'm even more spoiled and brattish than ever before. I wish I could prove him wrong. But I think that would involve a lot of confessions which he wouldn't have time for. Or maybe he just wouldn't care. Wow I've written loads about this. How bizarre. I really ought to get a little more sleep before tonight. I have a feeling it's going to be a long one. Yours, Tom. Stormy is Editing Tom,You don't like enclosed spaces? How strange, why ever not? You're claustrophobic then. I've never met someone who was, do you know why you are, or is it something you've always been? Draco really was curious, now he understood what the hell Harry's problem had been. I don't think it's necessarily pathetic, all kinds of people have fears they don't want other people to know about. It's not something you need to be ashamed of. I am surprised this rival of yours cried in front of you. Crying is something most people won't do unless they feel comfortable around them. If they cry in front of others they don't know, then usually that means they just want attention. So I think he probably doesn't hate you quite as much as you think he does. Think about it at least. Has he ever given you a reason, I mean a good, solid reason, to feel that he could care less about you? Perhaps the reason he's been so vicious to you is because he actually likes you or something. I've found that that is often true with rivals, they like each other but something forces them to be cruel to the other. Think about it. Sincerely, Luc That was more than Draco should say, but he was getting annoyed with Harry. He supposed he was really getting annoyed with himself, as he couldn't spend the kind of time he wanted with Harry. He was starting to get impatient. He wanted to be back on speaking terms with him, not still hating each other. And damnit, Potter had brought up his crying, that made him both angry and embarrassed. What kind of person brought up things like that? He closed the journal and lay back down. He was tired, angry, and didn't want to deal with the tower tonight. He would go of course, but that was mostly so he could see Harry. M "I think something odd is going on," Hermione whispered to Ron as she looked over his essay for Herbology."What do you mean?" Ron stared at her blankly. "That diary for one. I wonder if Dumbledore really asked him to keep it. Somehow it doesn't ring true." Hermione shook her head, "There's no suck thing as blockroot Ron, it's bockrute, it's a green leafy plant that smells slightly sour." "Sorry. Hermione, I think Harry's being honest, I mean why would he lie?" Ron watched as she marked his essay up hoping it wouldn't take too terribly long to rewrite. "I'm not sure, and why was he so tired this morning? I think you should stay up and see if he leaves or something." Hermione drew a long, thick line through one of Ron's sentences and rewrote it to include both a noun and a verb. Honestly, how would he pass at all without her help? "What? You want me to stay up and spy on him?" Ron shook his head. "Yes," Hermione nodded, "we're only trying to look after him and keep him safe. That's what friends are for." "You're his friend too," Ron protested, "why don't you do it." "Because I don't sleep in his bedroom, do I?" Hermione passed the essay back to him. "Besides, I'll watch in the common room tomorrow night so you can get some sleep." Ron sighed, knowing she wouldn't hear anything else on the topic. "Alright," he agreed, staring down at the mess she'd made of his essay. "I'd better get started rewriting this." * Harry woke to an odd pulsing and a silver glow that filled his room. He felt strangely refreshed. Everyone in the room was fast asleep, and he was surprised to see that Ron had never changed for bed. There he was, half sitting, half lying in his bed, fast asleep. Harry shook his head. It was time to go to the Tower. He couldn't just ignore the fact that it was midnight and he was wide awake. He knew where to go. Matt - Nomad Ron cracked an eye open blearily, hearing scuffling in the room, "Harry?" He groaned out, stretching and searching for the familiar shape of his bestfriend in bed and not finding it. The scuffling stopped abruptly, "Where ar'ou goin?" He slurred, dimly aware of promising to follow when Harry left. "The bathroom Ron. Go back to sleep." He knew it was a lie. But the ginger haired boy couldn't bring himself to care. His neck was stiff from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position and he didn't like the idea of trying to subtly track anyone when he was so comfortable. There was the sound of a door opening and closing, the wrong door, he realised, a cooldraft of air and then the room pulsed silver and Ron fell hard asleep, forgetting all he had heard. * "You want me to do what?" Draco sounded confused as Harry approached the door. Not angry or snarling like he normally would have expected... just confused, "How do I do that?" Pushing the door open he smiled rather wanely at the house ghost, noting her contemplating eyes and trying to assertain what was going on. Draco was perched on the end of the bed, looking into a familiarly shaped bowl of grey stone and frowning. For a moment Harry was sure the boy on the bed was someone else entirely... the way his long, pale neck craned forward with so much dignity... the way the small frown lines pressed down above his eyebrows to make them like little indented arrows... It reminded him of Damian. "That's a pensieve, right?" He made his presence known to his rival without greeting, "What are we doing with it?" "Good evening." Mathilda smiled again and motioned with a misted hand to the bed where Draco sat, "It came to my attention that you know almost nothing about each other and as you need to work as a team, you also need to start communicating, sharing yourself with your partner. You cannot survive the transition without each other, not only because of the physical anxieties but also because of the mental barrage of memory." She paused and gave each of them a stern glare, "Yesterday you failed because one, Mister Malfoy did not know that you, Mister Potter, were claustrophobic and you did not deign to tell him. And two, because neither of you bothered to explain the necessity of such actions. We wanted to see how you would work together, but you didn't. So we should start with memories. Memories serve an intrinsic part of your transition. What you have done, what you have felt and seen and understood will effect your inheritance of the powers. For example, if Harry does not have you by his side to remind him of the good in his life, the memories will slide to times where he is hurt or unhappy or angry or in pain. And vice versa. This will inevitably effect the mind set of the transition and can cause catastrophes... You have only to look at Lord Voldemort to see that." Draco was looking at Harry. Watching the calm concentration on his face as he processed the words, "She wants us to put our best and our worst memories of home into the pensieve but..." "Don't worry... I can show you." Harry muttered and pulled out his wand, "The best and worst... Right?" Mathilda was smiling again, that same, almost annoyingly reassuring way that Hermione had when she thought he'd had another nightmare or something of the sort. It made him cringe as she nodded and motioned for him to incant the rite. He knew that with practise it was possible to remove a memory without the words but seeing as Draco obviously wasnt sure what to do he spoke them aloud, "Alea iacta est." The tip of Harry's wand was pressed to his temple as he closed his eyes, replaying over and over his best memory. Slowly he pulled his wand away and with came a sodden silvery thread that sank, jelly like into the pensieve as he prepared to do it again with his worst. It was easier to think of his worst these days. Damian had helped him in that way, without even realising. This strand was a darker, boltgun metal shade, crawling, spider like in the air. He cast it down into the bowl with a shudder and watched it sink into the plethora of swirling sparkles in the basin. "I have to do that?" Draco looked unsure still and Harry wondered if he had some bad memory of his own regarding memory spells. Slowly he shook his head, "Actually, no... I can removed it for you if you're more comfortable that way?" A strange wash of apprehension and relief washed over the pale boy's face and he nodded slightly, "I have no wish to tamper with my own mind... I'm not very good at it." He added slightly more quietly but Harry allowed a lopsided grin to pass over his lips before he pressed his wand gently to Draco's temple, brushing the fine blond hair away with his fingers as he did so. "Think of your best memory and repeat it over and over in your mind." Harry whispered, watching and waiting for Draco's eyes to flicker shut before murmuring, "Alea iacta est." The strand came free and they repeated it quickly. Mathilda smiled, "You're already growing up." "We'll go in together." * A small, blond eleven year old sat in the middle on a wooden chair in the middle of the room. Rich, velvet curtains hung down around the window, tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles between men and goblins and centaurs and thestrals and hags and giants and the deaths, the violence, the vicious portraits were enough to make the boy seem very small and very frail, alone amongst them. The rest of the room was barren, dark, wooden floors and expansive, empty space. It was cold and the little boy shivered. There was no door. "DRACO!" A voice bellowed from no where, a inversion of light and a livid Lucius had apparated into the room. Draco cowered slightly but tried to keep himself looking smart and important, hoping he might at least be spared a lecture about his lack of propriety and Malfoy Pride, "Father, I don't know why I'm here. Moher-" Lucius sneered, his grey eyes flashing dangerously as he paced back and forth before his son. He stopped, turning on his foot to stand over the petit form before snarling, "I asked your mother to drop you here because I've heard some disturbing rumours." He pulled back, chuckling to himself as he gave his son the one over, "About you, and that Potter boy." "Oh…" The response was small and unhappy, "I didn't mean for him to make the quidditch-" "I'm not talking about some ridiculous sport. I'm talking about the fact that according to one of your house mates, you've been grumbling. Chewing over why that brat rejected your friendship." Lucius was back to leering over him, making the boy quake with fear despite his attempts to check them, "What friendship is this? Why would you offer any friendship to a filthy mudblood urchin?" "But father I-" "Draco," His father didn't pay heed to the interruption, instead making his voice very low and very cold, "Crucio." And the boy was on the floor, head hitting the floor as he tumbled off the chair and his back arched into a bow shape in agony. Blood dribble from the back of his skull, streaking the wood. His blond hair matted. His eyes were tight shut as he screamed and screamed. A look of pure satisfaction flickered over Lucius's face as he lifted the curse. "Minime Sectum Sempre." Gash. Draco screamed again. This time differently. His voice was strangled yet gasped at the same time and echoed, unearthly through the room. Blood gushed from a wound across his chest, not deep enough to kill but definitely deep enough to scar. "Let that be a lesson." * Draco was looking down at his feet as the memories about them swirled. That had been his first experience with the cruciatus curse and it had been the worst… Eleven years of age and he'd done a little thing wrong… Was it so inexplicable that he had been both drawn to Harry and also repelled by him? Was it so strange that he had hated him? Harry was watching him. Looking at him as if he was something completely different to anything normal and the gaze made him duck his head lower. Why was it only Harry Potter could make him feel about as tall as his hip? The scar on his chest stung with the memory… Harry had seen that scar when he'd been Damian. He was giving him clues. * The memory was Harry's. It was short. The world had gone dark, very dark, with a door frame of thin light through the cracks. He was in the cupboard under the stairs. Aged eight and a half, he was boiling over with fever, his body curled up into a foetal position and his thin arms hugging his bony knees. He wore only an over large tshirt and a giant pair of boxers-shorts. His body was painted with bruises, visible in the dim light because they cast such dark shadows over the otherwise pale skin. Blood had matted his hair together and had stained a trail from his nose, down his chin. Tears were flowing as he tossed in his dark cell and shook alone and unloved. Stormy is Editing Harry shivered as he recalled that terrible moment when he was sick and completely unloved. What he couldn't understand was why on earth Draco always talked about his father like he was some kind of amazing creature, when he'd done that to him. What could have possessed Draco to care about his father, when his father had shown such blatent disregard for his well being? Harry knew what the Cruciatus Curse felt like, he also knew how terrible it had felt. Such a young boy... He shook his head as Draco's best memory came into focus.* "Draco?" the blonde hair flowed down her shoulders like it was waves of molten gold. "How incredibly thoughtful! I love it!" Draco felt his face flush, he'd never made something with his own two hands before this moment, and at the age of fourteen, he was quite proud of it's look. The tiny glass bottle was made out of mage glass, and he'd spent the whole summer learning how to make it, make it perfectly, and precisely, and... the light purples, his mothers favorite color, were in the shapes of flower petals, and etched so carefully onto the glass that it wouldn't break, no matter what she did with it. It was just the right size for her perfume, which she reached over and poured right into it. The lid was made so she could dab it on her wrists and neck without putting it on her fingers as well. She pulled him into her arms, and held him tightly. He'd never managed to make her so happy before, and he swelled with pride. "Thank you Draco, it's the best birthday present I've ever had. How'd you know I needed a new perfume bottle?" Draco blushed. "I guessed, really." She smiled, and Draco felt like the sun was coming out from behind clouds. "Thank you." * Even now, Draco blushed. He'd felt so good about that little perfume bottle, partly because he'd been the one to break her last bottle, and he was able to replace it so completely. Mage glass was very, very strong, but if it broke, repairo didn't bring it back to it's former state of being. Nothing did. Harry was watching him closely, as though trying to weigh how such a simple thing could be his best memory, but honestly, nothing else lived up to his mothers incredibly happy face at that moment. Nothing. * Harry watched as Hagrid reentered the shack in the middle of a rainstorm. A shack so dirty Harry had made a birthday cake pattern on the dusty ground to wish himself a happy birthday. He watched as Hagrid gave him his letter, explained how his parents had died, explained that he was a Wizard, and how incredible that had made him feel. Harry watched as it all happened again, and he felt, not for the first time, how proud of himself he was. How happy he'd been to be so different from his Aunt and Uncle. He watched as all those things that had been denied to him became accessible. Friends, family, people who cared about him, and wanted to help him. Not because they had to, but because they wanted to. He watched as the whole scene flowed past, and he felt the same kind of strange pleasure he had felt that night as he fell asleep as the scene faded into nothing. With that, they flowed back up to the real world. Draco was watching him with interest, and Harry felt himself blush. This time, he'd revealed quite a bit about himself. Quite a bit about the upbringing he'd endured at the hands of his family. To Draco Malfoy none the less. Draco bloody Malfoy. He should have pulled the image of the incredible bouncing ferret up for Draco Malfoy to rewatch, but that wasn't nearly so much a good memory, as something to laugh at in his quiet moments. "Well now, are we more acquainted?" Mathilda asked, smiling at them both. Harry nodded. He knew more about Malfoy than he'd ever cared to know, and he wasn't exactly sure why the bottle had been so important. Draco was nodding as well, but he wasn't sure if it was because he had learned things, or because he was still digesting them. "Good! Now for the next step." She reached forward and took both of their hands in hers. Her hands felt solid, real, although cold and somewhat wet. "The next step is to trust each other." She pulled their hands together so they were holding hands. Harry felt a small flush of embarrassment, and Draco's face was red as well. She grinned and let her hands slip out of theirs. "Your next task is for one of you to close their eyes, and be spelled to blindness. I'll do that. Then the other one is to take them around this tower for five minutes without letting either one of you get hurt." Harry blinked. He had to keep Malfoy from being hurt? How messed up is that? He wanted to run him right into a wall. "Who wants to go first?" Draco held up his wand. "I'll go for being blinded first." He looked right into Harry's startled eyes. "It's going to be claustrophobic, so I want Harry to know I trust him." Harry took a deep breath, for some reason, his heart was beating very fast at that confession. Draco Fucking Malfoy trusted him. Everything in the world was going wrong. M One moment Draco was watching the ghostly Mathilda and Harry, the next he saw nothing but black."Now, take him around the tower Harry," Mathilda's voice spoke from beyond the darkness. Harry's hand tugged gently on his own and Draco stood to follow him. It didn't really matter. Harry could harm him in this way, but how much would it really hurt to hit a wall? He knew he was downplaying the possible dangers, but he didn't know how else to cope with the situation. Besides, Harry had just seen his happiest memory. A part of him didn't want to look at that open confusion in Harry's eyes. Of course Harry couldn't really understand. What had he expected exactly? As Harry led him, across the room and into the hall he thought, because suddenly the sound of their footsteps seemed more contained, he considered Harrry's memory. What had it been like to be that happy just to have a half-giant oaf like Hagrid care about you a little? How could something so insignificant be his happiest moment. Oddly the more he thought about it, the more he felt it, the more similar they seemed again. Why had he been so proud of that bottle? It was a real accomplishment, but the happiness had come from pleasing his mother. At the base, it was her hug, her caring about him and showing it so openly. He wondered if he hadn't had her to please, her to care about him, would anyone have done? Could he really have been choosy about who made him feel accepted and loved. "I think I understand," Draco said. He continued forward into Harry who'd evidently stopped walking without warning him. He pulled his foot off Harry's and stepped back a pace. "Sorry," he smiled a bit as Harry grumbled, after all Harry had stopped walking, not him. "You think you understand what?" Harry growled, but to Draco it was a harmless sort of growl as he'd heard much worse and much more dangerous. "It was about having someone care, really care about you. It didn't really matter who, just so long as it was someone." Draco would have liked to have looked at Harry, but blinded as he was he couldn't. There was a long silence, then Harry was pulling him gently forward again, so Draco resumed walking. "I don't know," Harry's voice trembled as he spoke and Draco had a feeling he'd been right. © Copyright 2004 Matt - Nomad, Stormy is Editing, M, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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