Unlikely Beginnings

On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry had calmed down. He'd narrowed his problem with Draco down to one thing: he was tired of being used, and he wanted more. He didn't want to sever any ties with Draco, and after this, he knew he didn't want to return to hating each other. Did Draco still hate him? He might after Harry walked out of the room, shutting the door in his face. What did the blond want? Maybe, Harry thought, they should have a bit of time apart. They honestly didn't spend all that much time together, but perhaps that was the problem right there. There was no way of spending time together without everyone knowing and questioning.

That was another thing, too. He knew his friends were worried about him, and they obviously were starting to find the right track. They were too clever for their own good, sometimes, or maybe for his own good. Was he insane to want some sort of relationship with Draco? If they found out, they'd just be trying to help him, and make sure he wasn't under some spell or something.

In the common room, Hermione and Ron had settled as best as they could at their table, homework laid out in front of them. Ron was simply glaring at his, and Hermione was trying to read. She couldn't even actually finish a page, just ending up reading the same sentence over and over again. Her mind wasn't on the book, but she couldn't just sit and stare at the wall while they waited. They were both thinking about Harry, and wondering what was going on in the Prefects' room.

They both jerked their heads towards the portrait door when they heard it creak open. Several people had already come in during the time they were waiting for Harry to return, and each time they'd looked up hopefully. This time, though, they were much relieved to see Harry come through. Before Hermione had a chance to say anything, she was startled by Ron slapping his book shut and standing up from the table. "And just what were you doing with that piece of shit?!" he yelled across the room.

"Ron, no!" Hermione cried out, standing up after him, struggling to get out from between the bench and the table. They really needed to drag some chairs over here to replace the bench, though the reason they hadn't done that to begin with was because they had to do homework here. She thought the boys were in danger of falling asleep in the comfy chairs instead of finishing their assignments.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling like all the warmth had drained out of his body, leaving him cold and frozen to the spot. They knew, he thought morosely. That had to be what Ron was talking about.

"I SAID," Ron started, sounding even more mad than before, if it were possible. Harry was glad someone still had their wits about them when Hermione all but jumped up to slap a hand over Ron's mouth. She widened her eyes at the taller boy, darting them around, indicating the rest of the people in the room. Ron looked around, still frowning, and saw that everyone had stopped to stare, the room silent, watching the three of them with absolute curiosity.

Ron took a moment, but he relaxed slightly, nodding under her hand. She slowly took her hand away, absently noting that it was wet from where it pressed against Ron's lips. He'd tried to continue shouting after she'd covered his big, fat pie hole, opening his mouth against her hand. She lifted her other hand to pat the boy on his arm, running her other hand down his chest slowly as he calmed down. Ron looked at her for a moment, a different look in his eye, before he looked back to Harry, his anger flaring again. He turned abruptly and stomped up the stairs to the boys' dorms.

Harry followed automatically, and Hermione did as well, completely never minding the fact that she wasn't allowed there. Thankfully, none of the other boys were there, and they had the room to themselves. Ron barely waited until Hermione had closed the door behind them before he started yelling again. "What the fuck were you doing with Malfoy?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, trying to sound confused, and wondering if he was just digging himself a deeper hole. He couldn't play this off now, they already knew, and had seen with their own eyes who he'd been with and where.

"Don't lie to us, Harry," Ron said, gesturing at Hermione as she came to his side. "We saw you on the map with him!"

Harry glared at his best friend, wanting to tell him the most awful parts of his and Draco's relationship, finishing off with that he absolutely loved it. He couldn't do that, though. He couldn't take a malicious tone with his friends, or lie to them any more than he had already by keeping this from them. "Okay!" Harry shouted back instead. "You're right, I was with Draco."

"Oh, it's 'Draco', now, is it?" Ron said mockingly, crossing his arms across his chest to keep from gesturing wildly in the air, trying to vent his frustration that way, and to keep from hitting something.

"Ron," Hermione said, giving him a stern look. She wanted to hear what Harry had to say. Even if she didn't like Malfoy any more than Ron did, they owed it to Harry, as his friend, to listen. "So... is Malfoy who you've been sleeping with?"

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, and Ron wasn't too far behind. "WHAT?!" Ron screamed, as there was no other way to describe it. If his voice had gotten deeper over the past few years, he wasn't above squeaking occasionally.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted at the other boy, a look of pure warning in her eyes. Ron didn't want to upset her, so he wisely clamped his mouth shut again. Ugh, though, he thought. It was disgusting enough to think of Malfoy and Harry having anything to do with each other aside from throwing a few punches, but this really takes the cake. He shook his head to himself, barely aware that the others were watching him.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted softly. "You can tell us, we're your friends." She looked at him, her expression completely changed. Honestly, she wanted to know either way. It was Harry's decision in the end, but she didn't want him to hide it from them, whether they disapproved or not.

"Yes," Harry answered quietly. He supposed there was nothing he could do now. He couldn't lie to them if they already knew. When he had contemplated telling them before this, he had imagined a weight being lifted, not having to hide the fact that he and Draco had some type of relationship, but this certainly hadn't lifted anything. If nothing else, it seemed to add even more pressure on him.

Harry couldn't look at Hermione anymore, and he looked down to the floor, kicking a dust bunny back under Dean's bed. Ron had started an erratic path around the room, clearly frustrated. He had no idea what to do with himself, and was trying to deal with this new information. "You used protection, though, right?" Hermione asked, breaking the awkward silence with an equally awkward question. She already knew too much and felt a strong urge to go and wash her hands, but she didn't want to leave the two boys alone together right now.

"Why would I?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He dared to look back at Hermione and saw there what he hadn't wanted to see. She was obviously making an effort to mediate between Harry and Ron, even if she felt the same way as the other boy.

"Because he's a nasty git and probably contracted a disease from Pansy Parkinson." Ron made a face, clearly grossing himself out at the thought. Hermione hit him on the arm and he turned around, continuing to pace around the stove in the middle of the room.

"Uhm," Hermione said, unsure of how to proceed. "Harry... I don't know if anyone ever told you, but I guess no one really expected you to be gay, and tho - "

"I'm not gay!" Harry protested, but immediately looked a bit disgruntled after it came out of his mouth. Was he? He hadn't enjoyed anything with his time with Cho, but that could have been because she was a whiny crybaby.

Hermione continued as if Harry hadn't interrupted her, "And they might have not bothered in telling you that..." She trailed off, feeling very horrible for having to have this talk with Harry. She supposed the Dursleys had never told Harry about anything regarding sexuality, and really didn't want to picture Dumbledore doing it. She had trouble shaking the strange picture of the old professor demonstrating with sock puppets, or something equally ridiculous.

"That what?" he prompted. Ron had stopped pacing and was definitely not eagar to hear what Hermione was about to say. He had an inkling, as his parents had told him in about the same way: Ron, we don't think you're gay, but you never know. We just want you to be careful, whatever route you take in your life, but you have to know -

"That male wizards can get pregnant," Hermione said.

Harry stared at her. Ron had cringed, and his face seemed to stick that way for a moment, slowly easing back into a slightly disgusted look. He'd probably be like that for a few days before he got something else on his mind but the disgusting mental images of Harry and Malfoy! You never wanted to picture it, but it ends up there accidentally anyway, sometimes no matter how hard you try.

Hermione stepped back abruptly when Harry stood just as suddenly. "What?" he breathed out, almost cracking a smile, hoping she was joking, or something, trying to make light of the situation. She nodded at Harry, and he scoffed, still not believing her. "No joke?" he asked when Ron started to look extremely uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly, and Hermione shrugged her shoulders and nodded again.

He felt himself start breathing faster, and hadn't realized he was almost hyperventilating before Hermione came towards him and tried to tell him to calm down. She didn't know why he was panicking, but that didn't matter at the moment. She supposed that Harry had a lot of shocks to his system whenever he'd found out about something in the wizarding world that was so different from the Muggle world.

When he felt Hermione's hands on his face, trying to pull him towards her, he shook them off. He shook his head and was about to say he was fine, when a wave of nausea rolled through him and he became dizzy. Reaching out almost blindly, Harry grabbed onto the nearest bedpost, holding himself up. He gasped in a breath of air, and held it, letting the nausea pass, and he tried to focus his eyes.

Hermione stood back, not sure of what to do, but Harry obviously didn't want her help right now. He had a lot to think about right now, and being hit with this didn't make it any easier. "I've got to get some air," he said. "I'll be back later." He reluctantly let go of the bedpost and took a hesitant step forward. He didn't fall flat on his face, and he took that as a good sign, continuing on his way towards the door. He hoped he would make it out onto the grounds without falling over before his vision stopped spinning.

That was all Harry said to his friends, leaving them watching after him as he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs. Hermione sighed and sat down on Ron's bed, realizing this was the first time in years since she'd been in the boys' dorms. Ron sat down beside her heavily, making the bed bounce slightly. Taking a chance when she felt Ron's arm brush her own, Hermione leaned over, resting her head against Ron's shoulder.

The bed stopped moving, and it was oddly silent and, just as oddly and tentatively, she felt Ron lift his arm behind her and settle it over her shoulders. Despite the argument beforehand, at least they could find some comfort with each other. They hadn't really spoken about their 'date' on the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, but they had been feeling more comfortable with each other ever since they'd had that talk.

@>*~

By the time Harry had made it out of Gryffindor Tower, and down to the main floor, he was feeling a bit better. At least now he could see straight as he walked down the steps leading out of the castle. It was still nice weather out, and it really did feel good to take in deep breaths of the fall air. His thoughts still were mostly centered on what Hermione had just told him. Why hadn't anyone told him? Harry supposed she was right; who would have thought he'd turn out to be gay?

That was another thing; was he? Aside from Cho, he'd never had an interest in women, but he could think back and notice all the attractive features of several men in Hogwarts. He'd always watched the older boys when playing Quidditch, and then never tried to copy their moves, since he had apparently been looking elsewhere at those times. He sighed heavily to himself, expelling the cool air he'd drawn in.

Looking down, he noticed the grass had lost a bit of it's lush green color due to the waning season, and it was just beginning to frost up a bit, though it still looked very rich, like you could lay down in it and feel just like lying down in a nice soft fluffy bed. With little blades of grass poking you. He wondered if he had felt them on his skin when Draco had pressed him into the grass...

Perhaps everyone who had been responsible for teaching him about what he really was had mentioned it in brief passing, but he'd never listened. He was sure his relatives hadn't told him, probably not having a clue, either. Why should they, being Muggles? They'd most likely think a male being with child was as unnatural as with being a wizard, though amplified.

Harry kept walking, watching the grass. He had no particular direction in mind, though he made sure he didn't walk straight to Hagrid's hut. Harry wasn't really up for a talk with his friend. He barely realized when a shadow fell into his path, and he was about to look up, careful not to run into a tree. Harry trailed his eyes ahead as he tilted his head up. He saw feet. Black, worn dragon hide boots, with an equally black robe cascading over their tops, hiding them from view.

He grimaced as he thought of how high up the boots might go, but he decided he really didn't want to think of that, especially on this particular person. Harry looked up to see Snape standing before him, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he was just out for a stroll himself. "Er," Harry let slip, confused at the look on Snape's face. He had the sort of blankly amused expression Dumbledore got when he was playing with his crayons, though Snape added a bit of a constipated look to it. "Professor?"

Snape contorted his face at the prompt, now looking more like his usual self, yet with still another unfamiliar feature. Harry would have guessed... sympathy? Pity? He would assume the latter, since he didn't often believe Snape of sympathizing with anyone, or thing, for that matter. Maybe his favorite cauldron if he accidentally burned a hole through the bottom of it, but that would be a bit creepy to see Snape crooning to a cauldron, rubbing around the edges of the corroded hole.

The man cleared his throat, thankfully pulling Harry from more disturbing thoughts about his least favorite teacher. Snape looked down at the boy, still trying to figure out how to break this to him. Despite the time he'd spent thinking on it, he'd seemed to find himself back at square one. Straightening to his full height, almost six inches above the Gryffindor, he started in as good of a place as any. "I need a word with you, Mr. Potter," he said, in a tone that let Harry know this was an order, not a request. "Walk with me," Snape added, turning on his heel.

Harry immediately looked in the direction Snape was heading. Towards the far edge of the Forbidden Forest, the opposite side that he was at least somewhat familiar with. There were undoubtedly certain animals that lived in specific pockets of the Forest, and Harry really hoped Snape wasn't going to take them inside. He hadn't even checked to see if Harry was following, simply striding away, hands in his pockets, robe flowing smoothly behind him.

The Gryffindor frowned after his teacher, and began to follow, though not quite eager to do so. Harry knew Snape wouldn't do anything rash to him, at least not in broad daylight. He sighed again, catching up with his teacher. When he closed off the head start that Snape had gained, he slowed down, and stopped just a few feet away from the Potions master. Snape had stopped, though not turned around before he spoke. "Have you been feeling differently, or unusual, lately?"

Snape turned around slowly, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so. He looked at Harry with a calculating look, as if he made perfect sense in what he was asking. A moment went by, and Snape seemed to become more annoyed as seconds ticked by, so Harry didn't really think he had a choice but to answer, so he did. "I've been tired?" he offered, and Snape raised an eyebrow, daring him to say more.

Harry frowned at him as he continued. "Well, I've had a lot on my mind the past few days. Nothing odd about that, is there?" he asked snidely, crossing his own arms and staring back at his professor. That wasn't a good idea. Not even ten seconds later, Harry uncrossed his arms and hung them to his sides, and that wasn't good either. He started fidgeting. Harry had become vaguely familiar with Snape when he'd worked with him against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but they'd never crossed this line into questioning on how they felt personally.

It was almost like Snape dragged him out for a Sunday stroll and to have a nice chat, and that certainly wasn't what brought this about. The only time he could remember Snape asking how he felt was during his brief Occlumency lessons, even though they hadn't gone over very well, especially after seeing his father. He didn't blame his father and his friends for how they'd treated Snape when they'd been in school together; he was an ugly git.

Snape inclined his head, looking down his hooked nose at Harry. "Hmm," was all he intoned. He supposed Potter wasn't very far along, or he may have voiced a few more symptoms. Of course, each pregnancy was different, and even more so for wizards. He made a mental note to look that up one of these days. Meeting the boy's eyes again, "Po - Harry," he began, correcting himself. He ignored Harry's surprised look at the change. "Did you happen to notice anything at all different about yourself?"

Harry shook his head slowly as if he was still combing through his mind for anything else. Snape frowned, but soon the amused look was back, though not as strong as it was earlier. "You're pregnant," Snape blurted out, glad to have said it, but annoyed at himself at the inarticulate way he'd done it. It was true he didn't particularly like the boy, but when it came down to it, this was too touchy of a subject to add even a bit more of his usual harassment to it. Bluntly was the only way he could broach the subject without the two of them standing outside all day long.

Harry's eyes widened suddenly, almost before his mind even managed to comprehend what Snape had said. He simply stared incredulously at his Potions master. He took a breath, "I..." and the breath came right back out again, carrying no words out with it at all. "What... how?" He started to stutter, trying to ask or say too many things at once, ending up with his mouth working like a fish's.

What an amazing bit of timing Hermione had for breaking the possibility to him only half an hour before Snape confirmed just what she'd said. How would Snape have even found out? He really didn't want to think about that, either, hoping to Merlin that his teacher didn't have some twisted perversion of watching his students' sex lives.

The professor gave a drawn out sigh. "Mr. Potter, I'm quite sure no one's told you of the possibility that this could happen, especially living with those Muggle relatives of yours..." he trailed off, shaking his head at the thought of any wizard being able to co-inhabit the same dwelling as Muggles. "But believe me, Harry," he said, starting to sound almost angry, "it is true. Someone even had the audacity to, shall we say, leave evidence of their sexual activities on my desk."

Harry's jaw went completely slack now, and he knew how Snape had found out, but - how did he know who it was? He seriously didn't think Snape would ask Harry, who was not even close to the top ten students in Potions, to help him find out. No, he knew it had been Harry. "And," he continued, "I had wanted to know who would be so crude as to do such a thing." He narrowed his eyes and looked expectantly at Harry. Harry closed his mouth and swallowed, looking away from his teacher.

"You see, Potter," Snape drawled condescendingly, "There is a little spell that upon when whomever passes through the perimeter, allows the brewer to see the sexual auras of those who have entered." Harry paled at that, again finding himself staring at his teacher. He opened his mouth once again to deny... something. He hadn't forgotten, his thoughts simply decided to go on holiday at that exact moment, and he was left with nothing to say, though wanting to swish his fists through the air if nothing else.

"Do not insult my intelligence by claiming you have no idea what I'm speaking of, Potter." Harry looked away and closed his mouth this time, just in time to stifle a small dry heave. After that, he felt another wave of dizziness wash past his eyes, and thankfully his senses came back in time to tell him so helpfully that he might be sick in the next few minutes. Snape either didn't notice his predicament, currently spouting on about the one he'd unfortunately found out about, or chose to ignore it. "As I was saying," he went on when Harry seemed to recover slightly, "the potion allows me to see exactly who, or what," he paused, pursing his lips and hoping he didn't become ill himself after drudging that thought up again. "Yes," he started again. "It allows me to see exactly who a person was sleeping with recently.

"I know about you and Malfoy, but that is not why we're here today." Snape frowned, creasing his brow as he tried to keep himself to bluntly explaining this to the boy. "I saw inside you, a second aura." Harry looked blank, and not quite focused, but the attentive look on the boy's face expressed that he was, indeed, listening. "Now, I thought that you were taking after Ms. Parkinson and going through the student body like a fish through water, but the aura you are currently carrying had no name or identity whatsoever." Harry began to sway at this, feeling even more dizzy. Snape pressed on, foreseeing what kind of turn Harry was going to take very soon.

"The only way an aura could be titled so, was if it was a brand new being. The only way that could happen is if it was in the process of growing." He looked at Harry, no ulterior emotion laid upon his features for the moment, and decided to go on. Harry looked like he'd stabilized and that he wasn't going to regurgitate his breakfast over Snape's boots. Or, at least that's what Snape hoped. "Now, what you're going to need to do from now on is..." It was Snape's turn to stop in mid sentence, mouth open. He never got a chance to finish his sentence, because, at that moment, Harry went down like a ton of bricks, much sooner than Snape had anticipated.

Severus sighed and shook his head at the lump of robes on the grass. "Oops," he said to himself under his breath, almost letting out a small chuckle, and covering it with a cough instead. He stooped down and worked his hands under the boy's knees and back, lifting him up. Snape carried him to the infirmary where he deposited him on an empty bed, completely ignoring Madam Pomfrey when she came bustling over, asking him a million questions at once.

@>*~

When Harry woke, he knew he was definitely not in his own bed. It didn't feel like it physically, and the air of the entire room was different. He opened his eyes slowly, frowning as he looked up to see the domed ceiling of the infirmary. "Shit," he said as he pushed himself up abruptly, and immediately wished he hadn't. Grabbing a hand to his stomach as a lurch of pain shot through him. No, not pain. He was hungry.

It was dark in the room, so he supposed it must be quite a while later now than it had been when... He thought about the last thing he remembered, and he could only suppose he'd collapsed. Snape had been about to explain to him what he should be doing, but he didn't get far, Harry recalled. Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands, propped up on his knees as he sat in the bed.

He willed the small headache away and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing aside the covers. He reached for his glasses on the side table, and put them back on. "God damn it," he swore quietly, then sighed to himself. This just had to happen to him, didn't it? When he'd finally been having a life filled with mundane, trivial things, another fucking thing had to happen to him. If it wasn't some insane adventure or mystery, it was a personal crisis.

Stepping down off the bed, he realized he was still in his own clothes, not the standard hospital pajamas. Thank Merlin for that, Harry thought. He made to walk as fast as he could out of the room so as not to draw Madam Pomfrey's attention, but was stopped quickly. His eyes blurred and he grasped blindly for the bed he'd just vacated. He held firm until his vision cleared and then he bolted for the door.

When he was safely two corridors away, he slowed and kept on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It would have been moderately better if Snape had been the only person to confront him today, but Ron and Hermione had made this a horrible day, and he'd certainly not forget it any time soon. He supposed he could have simply told them that it wasn't their damn business, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd never had anyone to tell things to in his life; Dudley didn't ever care, but when he'd met Ron, he'd made a friend for life.

Harry felt like he could share things with the other boy, and, over the years, Hermione as well. He didn't feel right not to tell them the truth when they asked. Technically, he remembered, he had lied once or twice to them, but he was rightly justified if this was the way they were going to react when they found out where he'd really been. Maybe he should just lock his trunk from now on and spend all day in the other side of the castle away from them but for when he couldn't help it.

No, he couldn't do that. They were his friends, and he loved them for it. Overall, they'd made his life ten times more enjoyable than it had been before he'd met either of them, or before he came to Hogwarts. That didn't change the fact that Ron had completely screamed at him, though, and then acted like a spoiled child who didn't get extra cake, and then complained when he couldn't finish it when he was given more. He asked (well, Hermione more correctly inquired), so Harry had told him. If he didn't want to hear it, he shouldn't have asked.

He'd already passed the sleeping Fat Lady, having to tap on her picture to wake her up before he could pass. She was snoring again before the door even shut behind him, and Harry was on his way up the stairs to his dorm. It was filled with a dull light from the moon and he looked out at it as he crossed the room to his bed. The full moon was almost over.

Harry pulled open the curtain on his bed and sat down, taking off his shoes. He pulled his shirt off next and shivered at the cool air in the room. Harry stood and took a moment to right his comforter over his bed. The house-elves hadn't made beds today, it seemed. Wait - they had, but Ron had quite rudely mussed it up again when he'd rifled through his things for the map. Harry's eyes widened as he stepped out of his trousers: thank God that neither of his friends had decided to crash his and Draco's little party using his invisibility cloak.

Though they would have had to know who... crap. They would have known who was in the room, but then they still wouldn't have known to say it. Even through the thick door, they'd still have been able to listen, perhaps hearing only muffled conversation, but still. Harry sat down on his bed again, not bothering to dig out his pajamas, opting just for sleeping in his boxers tonight. Pulling his blankets over himself, he closed his eyes, reveling in the blossoming warmth all around him. He opened his eyes as he adjusted his pillow, and looked out his open curtain. He spared a moment to glare at Ron's bed before reaching out to grab his curtain, swishing it shut aggressively.

@>*~

When Harry woke up the next morning he was still a bit tired, but he had to get up anyway. Best to wake up as much as he could before Potions; he didn't want Snape to make fun of him for falling asleep in his cauldron. He wondered if Snape would look at him any differently? Perhaps with disgust, because it was sort of disgusting how the teacher had found out. Harry sat up in his bed, swinging his legs down between the curtains before he pulled them open.

He was about to give a great sigh and stretch his arms over his head as he yawned, but Harry was stopped in his tracks. Ron had opened his curtains at the same time, and now they sat, trying not to stare at each other, but not seeming to be able to manage anything other than that. Ron looked away and stood up first, rolling his eyes as he walked to the end of his bed to where his trunk lay. Harry stood, and picked up his glasses from the table beside his bed as he did.

Ron, still without a word, pulled the shirt he slept in over his head and tossed it on his still open trunk before walking out of the room. Harry felt a chill run up his body and he remembered he'd only slept in his boxers. He usually didn't do that, rather to have the tails of his pajama shirt cover any evidence of arousing dreams than to have himself displayed to the rest of his roommates. Harry turned around and checked himself as he reached for his trousers.

It'd been a few nights since he'd remembered any of his dreams, but they weren't hard to picture in his head. They were all about Draco. Harry sighed as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. How was he going to talk to Draco, now? He doubted the Slytherin would want to talk to him after the way he'd stomped out of the room and slammed the door after himself. He had heard Draco swear, and hurried his pace as he'd gone down the hall. It was possible that Draco still cared, right? If he even cared at all to begin with, that was.

Harry let that yawn out now before he turned and went out the door, down to the boys' lavatory. He wasn't quite watching where he was going until he almost bumped into someone. He looked up and saw that it was Ron. They tried to shift to the side, though they both picked the same side. Then, they both moved, again, to the same side. Ron scowled and set his hands on Harry's shoulders, pushing him back to the other side while he stayed at the opposite. He turned his body and sidestepped around his friend, leaving Harry to feel a bit awkward standing in the hallway.

He shook his head, finishing his trek to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Ron had a bit of time to think over what all he'd heard the night before. He'd spent at least an hour laying in bed trying to fathom how Harry could even touch Malfoy in a way that wasn't aggressive. Though that line of thought led to some interesting mental images of Malfoy being tied down and beaten - for his own pleasure. Ron had shuddered and rolled over, trying to go to sleep. He had to concede that he wasn't happy about the situation, but he vowed to at least be civil towards his friend. It was Harry's life, after all. It wasn't Ron's fault if he screwed it up, and it certainly didn't mean he had to agree with Harry's choices.

By the time Ron finished getting ready for the day, tying his tie around his neck and then pulling his sweater on over top of it, Harry came back into the room. They both grabbed their robes and bags and headed downstairs. Hermione was already in the common room, and she watched as Harry came out of the stairwell. He noticed her eyes were definitely not focused on him when she smiled faintly. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Ron smile back at her.

At least those two are okay, he thought, as he walked toward the portrait door. He wasn't annoyed with Hermione, really; he was more annoyed with Ron and how he reacted. He supposed he expected it, and he shouldn't dwell on it too long, but he didn't feel up to another confrontation with either of them again. Even with all that happened yesterday, he still couldn't believe what Snape had told him. He was starting to constantly feel tired, and he hadn't really been in the mood to eat, though his now growling stomach belied that thought. He didn't feel nauseous, but food just hadn't appealed to him much. So, some of what he'd felt made sense now.

He stopped at the door, waiting for his friends. This was the first day in a while that they'd actually be going down to breakfast together, and they all happened to be upset with each other, or maybe just him. Even though he wasn't really up for the usual chatter of his friends, he got the feeling they would be a bit subdued today. They were still his friends and he needed their support right now, so, with a little sigh to himself, he paused at the door and looked back to them.

Hermione had picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, turning towards the door. She shook her head to herself, hoping that the three of them would overcome this slight rift. She hated it even more when Ron and Harry fought. It was a bit disconcerting that they hardly acted like anything was wrong, since they both kept quiet about it, but she could always feel the difference.

Ron followed behind Hermione, though catching up to her side, and they slowed as they got to the door. Harry pushed it open and held it open for them to walk through and ahead of him. Hermione then wondered if the three of them would even walk together or go their separate ways to the Great Hall. Ron kept walking, not stopping to look at Harry, or thank him for holding the portrait. Hermione frowned and thanked Harry herself, though she noted that he stayed behind them.

As she took a few more rapid steps to catch up with Ron, she wondered vaguely if Harry would take off in the other direction to go find Malfoy. She hadn't been blind, and she did notice that Harry didn't particularly look happy about what had went on in his secret excursion before Ron had got his knickers in a twist. And, knowing that, she didn't think Harry would do that; he'd just go straight to the Hall, in his mopey sort of way he was when something too heavy handed perched on his shoulders.

Hermione nudged Ron lightly in the ribs, though it was hard to do without jabbing him a little harder than was her intention, because they were still walking down the hall; she got his attention, though. "What?" Ron asked, a curious look on his face as he rubbed his side.

She turned to look at Ron and nodded her head back towards Harry, who was, indeed, trudging along a ways behind them, looking sad. "You guys need to put this behind you and move on. Harry knows what he's doing and we should support him," she whispered to Ron, hoping Harry didn't hear her. The last thing they needed was to be talking about this behind each other's backs again, but she didn't want to start too serious of a discussion this early in the morning. Even if they were on the outs with each other right now, Hermione knew they'd band together to duct tape her mouth shut if she even tried.

Ron pursed his lips in thought, trying not to say something he'd regret. It was hard, but he came up with something neutral. "We'll see," he said, turning the corner and starting down the stairs. "I still don't like who he's shagging, and not only that, he could very well be up the duft for all we know." He made a face at that, clearly not thinking that was too pleasant; it wasn't, but still.

"We don't know that for sure, Ron," she reminded him. "Wouldn't he be showing the symptoms by now?" Hermione questioned, starting to slow down so that Harry wasn't so much behind them. He probably knew they were talking about him, but, oh, well. Ron, however, didn't seem to care who overheard them, even if it was Harry, or Snape, for all he was being cautious.

Ron slowed unconsciously to stay by Hermione's side. He almost wanted to grab her hand to moderate her pace, wondering why she had dropped back. Though he didn't think he'd let go if he did that. He did know that he walked a bit faster than her because of his longer legs, but he could walk slower for her. "That's a good point," he admitted after a moment, "but we don't know how long the two of them have been going at it, and you heard what Harry said!"

"Yes," Hermione started, shushing him with a look. "They weren't using protection. They could have been using a contraceptive spell or potion, but, yes, I remember what Harry said." Harry wasn't too far behind them now, and they were almost to the Hall. "He hadn't even known that wizards could get pregnant, and I doubt Malfoy would have let him in on that piece of information."

"Yeah, him being the twat that he is," Ron said, tone misleading but with annoyance still clear in his voice, as he did enjoy insulting Malfoy, despite the current situation between him and his best friend. Harry caught up with the two of them, and the three of them catching up collectively to the group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws filing through the open doors to the Great Hall.

Their conversation halted for the time being, as they headed towards their house table, to their usual spots. Harry eyed his friends from behind as they walked before him. It was kind of hard to think they weren't talking about him. He was used to it, though, being a kind of celebrity. But, argh, don't remind me of that, Harry thought. He had a hard enough time with his life without all that other stuff to drag him down.

Other than their quiet almost whispered conversation as they walked down the halls, it was silent. Harry paid more attention to his grumbling stomach, and he was grateful it was breakfast, since he just wanted to get something to eat before he keeled over. Even with everything else, he was happy his previously absent appetite had returned. Taking their seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry could feel himself start to salivate over all the wonderful smells that were to come.

He had a hard time not closing his eyes and licking his lips, just imagining all the delicious foods that were ready to pop up onto their table. "Good morning to you all," Dumbledore began, scanning the tables vaguely with his eyes. Harry opened his eyes, surprised that he hadn't even realized that he had, but he was still tired, too. "In light of certain unforeseen events, Potions classes will be cancelled this week, or until further notice as Professor Snape has gone on an errand that could not be rescheduled. During regular Potions classes, you may either retire to your dormitorys until the next class begins, or study in the library."

The old wizard nodded to the Hall in general, and seated himself in his chair at the center of the staff table at the head of the room. When Dumbledore had situated himself, the food appeared on the tables, and Harry wondered if the Headmaster had some sort of button up there under the table to tell the house-elves when to send breakfast up. Many students turned to their neighbors to gossip about why Snape had left, though more were concerned with what they'd do in their newly instated free time, while others took the time to do little victory dances in their seats, trying in vain to refrain from shouting with joy.

Harry sighed to himself, partly in favor of no Potions classes, and partly for the food laid out in front of him. Oh, and it was even better than he was imagining. Reaching for his favorite, he pulled the bowl of porridge towards his plates, gripping his spoon like it might disappear from his very sight if he didn't begin to eat very soon. He really hadn't been looking forward to sitting in the dungeons for two hours, facing the man who knew more about him than he did himself. Of course, he didn't know exactly what he'd do with his free period, and was almost wishing they did have Potions, so he wouldn't have to actively seek out Draco wherever he might wander off to in the castle with two hours of free time.

He supposed the other boy would just go back to the dungeons and do something there. He didn't often see Draco out on the lawns, or hear anyone talk about how crappy he played at Quidditch practice. To be honest, he really didn't know what Draco did with his time, and that didn't comfort Harry at all. It made him want to find out. But, back to the present; he still wasn't feeling a hundred percent, and wasn't sure if he'd get up in time for class if he were to go back to the dorms for a nap.

Out of the corner of his eye, the only part of himself that wasn't focused on food, he noticed Neville watching him while he chewed on a piece of toast. Harry stopped, swallowed and asked, "What?" Not defensively, just wondering what he'd done to attract the other boy's attention.

Neville smiled at him and swallowed his own mouthful. "I'm just happy to see you eating is all," he said. "I was beginning to worry about you; this past week you hadn't eaten much that I saw, and I thought you might have been ill. I didn't want to pry, so I didn't say anything." That was so typically... Neville. Most people underestimated the boy, but he was really intuitive sometimes, not to mention observant.

Harry smiled back, glad to know someone cared about him without nagging about it. Neville resumed eating when he did, and Harry decided after a minute that he'd successfully dislodged his roommate's curiosity. He sat up straight, stretching his back and faintly heard a little crack in it as he used the movement to look up and across the Ravenclaw table to see if he could spot Draco on the other side of it. He couldn't see him anywhere at the Slytherin table, so he turned his attention back to his food.

It was still a bit early, and Draco might not have made it to the Hall yet. It really was a long way from the dungeons after you factored in all the twisting halls and everything in the lower floor, despite it being only one floor away from the Great Hall. He looked once more, trying to spot the blond, and when he looked back to his own table, he saw Ron look away quickly. He supposed he didn't have to hide the fact from his friends that he was looking for Draco anymore.

Stupid Draco, Harry thought. How could he not know about this? He felt like walking up to the blond when he found him, and kicking him in the balls for being such an idiot. Harry tried to push those thoughts out of his head so he could enjoy his breakfast in peace. He hoped to at least drown his problems in the various liquid or partially liquid substances that littered the surface of the table.

After breakfast, everyone started to go their separate ways; some went to the library, some to their dorms. A few went outside just to sit around and talk or play games, taking advantage of the weather before it began to snow, until their next classes began. Harry got up with the other Gryffindors from his year and made his way out of the Hall. He'd calmed down a bit and had made up his mind. He had to tell Draco, sooner than later.

He didn't see the other boy in the crowd of shuffling students as they made for the door, but after he got into the hallway and they dispersed in different directions, Harry caught sight of a shock of light blond hair amidst the dark. He turned to see if Hermione and Ron were waiting for him, and they sort of got the idea from the look he supposed was on his face. Hermione nodded to him and grabbed Ron by the elbow and started to go the other way.

A few other people asked him what he was doing going the other way, the way in opposition to the halls back to Gryffindor Tower, but he shrugged them off with the excuse of going for a walk around the castle before heading back to get his books for the class he had after Potions. He began to head after Draco, though he had to rethink the situation. He was in a hall filled with Ravenclaws, a few Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins. Barely a Gryffindor was in sight, but there were a few. How was he supposed to get Draco's attention and pull him off to the side to talk in this crowd?

Harry sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked down the hall, trying to look like he was simply wandering around on a stroll to waste the time away. A couple passing students that recognized him gave him odd looks, but he ignored them. He was slowly coming closer to where Draco was walking with his friends. Harry couldn't hear the other boy's voice over the others' echoing around the hall, but he still kept up, though not too close as to be suspicious.

He kept his eyes on Draco, and was both glad and worried that the students in the hall were slowly dispersing, leaving not as much cover for him as there previously was. He was suddenly rethinking his decision to tag along behind a group of Slytherins, most of which hated him. He swallowed, and slowed a bit to gain a bit more distance between them again. He almost stopped entirely when laughter bubbled up from the group, and Draco turned his head to say something, most likely derogatory, to Crabbe, but Harry was surprised when Draco turned his head further around looking behind himself for Merlin knows why.

Draco's frown at the stupid joke Crabbe told completely dropped off his face when he saw something that he really didn't think he should be seeing in the corner of his eye. He turned his head back more, to look behind himself, and his eyes widened almost imperceptively when he saw Harry. But Harry noticed, and he almost expected Draco to turn around, bringing his whole group with him, and start a fight with Harry.

Harry almost held his breath for a minute or two as he watched the blond begin talking about something he couldn't hear. Harry was about ready to give up and turn around when he saw Draco break off from the rest of the Slytherins. They didn't seem to follow him, and Harry frowned, wondering where Draco was going. Should he keep following, or was Draco trying to get away from him? If he was, it really didn't seem like it. If he wanted Harry to bugger off, he would have stayed with the rest of his classmates, not wander off to the loo by himself.

When Harry caught up and turned down the same corridor that Draco had, he didn't see anyone else down it at all. Draco listened to the second set of footsteps predictably follow after his own. "Wait," he heard behind him, feeling a hand on his shoulder, gently turning him around to face the other boy. Harry closed his eyes as he swallowed, still a bit tired from all the revelations of the day before, and he wondered if he was really up to this.

"What, Harry? Come to slam another door in my face?" he asked sarcastically, making for the lavatory that, indeed, was down this hall. Draco made to turn back around, not wanting to have this conversation. He was having a hard time getting Harry out of his head, and seeing him around school wasn't helping. Even if they only had two classes together, it seemed like a lot, combined with Draco's seemingly new habit of watching for Harry wherever he went. He'd stayed well out of sight in the Great Hall, knowing that one of them would try to look for the other.

"It's important," Harry pleaded, following Draco, and taking a few quick steps so that he was beside the Slytherin as they walked down the hall. They turned around another corner and stopped; there was no one else around, and Draco crossed his arms as he waited expectantly for Harry to tell him what was so important. He didn't expect this to take long, so they had no need to find a secluded room to spend some time having a conversation in. It seemed that even if they shagged each other every five minutes, they still couldn't have a conversation without it turning into a row.

"I'm pregnant."

Draco didn't move at all, and still held the irritated expression on his face, though it seemed confusion was starting to break through. He simply stared back at the other boy, face starting to go blank, and Harry watched as Draco's lips tried to form various positions, as if he was trying to say something. All that ended up coming out was a weak, "puh.." that was barely audible, though sounding suspiciously like a scoff to Harry. Draco didn't say anything else after that, and he uncrossed his arms and walked away, leaving Harry to stand there in silence, watching him leave.

And that's what Harry did, all he could do at the moment. He watched Draco walk down the corridor, though without the usual, assured stride. Harry stepped back until he felt the cold stone of the wall against his back; he could feel it even through his robes. He'd just walked away, like he didn't care at all. Like he was disgusted with me, Harry added in his head. He slowly slid down the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest as he slouched down against it. He wrapped his arms around his legs and set his chin on his knee, staring blankly at the cracks in the floor as he wondered what he had done to deserve such a horrible life.

@>*~

The only thing Draco could do right now was keep walking. He'd had no idea what ungodly reason Harry would follow him straight into Slytherin territory for, but he decided to save the other boy the trouble of getting caught. He wasn't ready to talk to Harry about what had happened, having no idea what the hell he'd say anyway. Draco had made an excuse and started down another hall, knowing that Harry would come running after him.

When he'd heard what Harry said, he immediately wished he'd stayed with the group instead of making time for the Gryffindor. He couldn't even respond, not knowing what he should say. So, all he could do was turn and walk away from it, leaving an undoubtedly upset Harry in his wake. What could he have said, anyway? That he was such an idiot not to think of that before, or be an arse and tell Harry that it wasn't his problem?

Draco slammed the door shut to the Slytherin dormitory, not caring if it startled anyone or not. He'd never had to be ginger with anything before, and no one would say a word to him about it anyway. He sneered at a few of his house mates that turned to stare at him, and they quickly looked away as he stalked by them. He was glad Blaise wasn't in their room when he went inside, slamming that door, too. Draco slumped himself down on his bed, wondering what he was going to do.

@>*~

Harry had managed to escape from the wrong side of the castle without too much confrontation. A Ravenclaw Prefect had stopped him, but his excuse of going for a walk seemed to be acceptable, even though she had raised an eyebrow, and he had made off down the hall as quickly as he could. His mind was reeling, and all he really wanted to do was to have that nap. Maybe he could start over, and pretend he never told Draco anything, or at least not have told him the way he did.

He didn't think he'd make it through Herbology, and when that was over, he still wondered how he'd managed to answer any of Professor Sprout's questions. She seemed to think his leaning over the table, head propped up on his elbow, trying to keep his eyes open was him paying attention to her. Well, he supposed he was trying to do that instead of falling asleep, or letting his mind drift off to things he'd rather not think about right now. By the time lunch rolled around, he was hungry again, and was glad for the break.

It seemed like they hadn't had two hours off during the time when they should have had Potions, or at least it felt that way to Harry. He and Hermione had made it to the table and sat down, waiting for Ron. He'd had some trouble with his plant, it having twisted its way from its pot to inhabit a nearby watering can, poking Ron's fingers when he tried to pull it out. There didn't seem to be any announcements, so the food appeared, and they started into their midday meal.

Ron trudged in not a minute later, holding a bandaged hand. Harry felt bad he didn't stay to help, but was still glad his fingers weren't bleeding. Ron sat down and made a pained face at his friends before picking up his fork. "Uhm," he said a moment later, drawing both his friends' attention.

Hermione frowned, unused to seeing Ron holding a fork with not a bit of food on it. "What is it?" she asked, and Harry looked at him after putting a slice of ham on his plate.

"It's a letter... to Harry," he said, sounding quite confused as he picked it up off the table and handed it across to his friend. Harry looked at it, and took it from Ron when he passed it over the table. Quickly, Harry looked around them, and no one else seemed to be watching. Sure enough, it did have his name on it: H. Potter.

He slid his finger under the blank seal, popping it open and sliding out the piece of parchment that was inside. The first thing he did was look to the bottom, where there was an ornate capital D. Harry tried not to smile; Draco must have come over to the Gryffindor table and put the note under the fork, simply assuming Harry would have sat there. Well, he was close, Harry thought. Though somehow he couldn't picture Draco watching him from across the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry read. They shared a look with each other, already knowing who it would have been from. "He wants to talk to me," Harry said quietly, careful not to mention who, exactly. He folded the note and slipped it back into the envelope, which he reached around and shoved into his bag. "I talked to him earlier, and he just... walked away."

Ron scoffed and Hermione threw a pea at him, having been dishing up her lunch while Ron glared at the note while Harry read. Ron mumbled something and started to gather food to his plate as well. "Um," Harry started as he sat up from his seat, stepping over the bench and hefting his book bag back on his shoulder. "I'll meet you guys here before class starts, okay?"

They both nodded, not knowing what to say, but Hermione managed a, "See you later," as Harry left. They did understand that Harry didn't want anyone else to know, and they respected that. It really wasn't something that needed to be publicized. They were all still friends, even if it was a bit tense between them right now. They were glad Harry was being honest with them, and glad they knew where he was going, even if they didn't like it.

It felt to them as if Harry was back in their life more than he had been for the past couple weeks, and that was a good thing. They just hoped he wouldn't bring Malfoy back with him, imposing him more than he already was on them just by being in the same school. Harry grabbed a sandwich off a plate on his way down the table, squeezing his arm between Colin and Ginny to snatch it up. They were too busy looking at pictures to notice, and Harry made his way out the door, chewing as he went.

Draco was waiting in the Prefects' room, absently picking at a string hanging from the seam of a cushion that was sitting beside him on the couch. A lot of questions had gone through his mind during the time he'd had to think about things since this morning. One of the most ugly was, 'Is it mine?' It was actually the first to slip to the tip of his tongue after he'd made sure he heard Harry right, but he'd held it back.

He hadn't noticed Harry going around with any other guys, and believe him, he kept an eye on the other boy; he would have known. The only other students Harry spent time with were the Weasel and the Mudblood, and Draco was pretty sure those two fancied each other. That left it pretty clear for a fact that it couldn't be Weasley's. Draco grimaced, not caring at all to think of Ron's sex life, if he even had one.

That only left him, and he wasn't prepared for this at all. Draco sighed, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand, propped on his elbow on the arm of the couch. It was bad news on the whole, and he really didn't know what to say. He'd never been speechless in his life, and it was bothering him. Harry probably wondered if Draco thought he was joking, or if he simply didn't care.

Leave it to Potter to think he didn't care. Well, why should he? It wasn't his problem, not really. Okay, so maybe it was his problem. It was his child, too, and if Harry wanted to keep it, and Draco denied the allegations, there were ways in proving him wrong. He hated being proved wrong, and it was as rare of an occurrence as he could keep it.

Draco's head snapped up when he heard the latch click on the door, and saw Harry push it open and step into the room. He sat up on the couch, and he watched Harry walk into the room, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the strap of his bag. Harry's eyes barely left Draco's as he came into the room, coming to sit down on the other end of the couch from the blond.

"So," Harry said, setting his bag down in front of him, but keeping the strap in his hands for something to fidget with. He was surprised, quite frankly, that Draco wanted to talk to him. They'd had a perfectly good chance earlier, and Draco had blown him off. And that was a really bad mental image, Harry thought, though he had to wonder if they'd ever get that far in any type of relationship to experience that sort of thing. Back to the point, Harry reminded himself.

Draco cleared his throat sharply, before asking, "How did this happen?" He didn't look at Harry, but watched the other boy's hands on the strap of his bag, picking at the edge.

"I didn't know," Harry said quietly, giving a small shrug, though since he was staring at the floor now, he had no idea whether Draco had seen the movement or not. Draco looked up, though, confused, and Harry continued. "That it could happen."

"How could you not know?" Draco asked, thinking maybe he'd started to overestimate Potter on his intelligence. He had to admit he didn't know much about Harry, but he did know he grew up with Muggles, and that they didn't teach him a damn thing; supposedly, they didn't even tell him he was a wizard. Draco could barely fathom living with Muggles, or not knowing what you are, or could be.

Harry just shrugged, watching Draco seem to understand. The blond nodded and leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. To be honest, the possibility never entered his mind more than once, and that once was when he had been slumped over Harry's back, cock still inside the other boy. A moment of sentimentality, he supposed, which he quickly dismissed, thinking that Harry would be smart enough to use some type of contraceptive. Even Muggles had them, so Harry couldn't have been that stupid.

Again, Draco fought the urge to ask if it was his, but the reality finally hit him. This was his child. It was a strange feeling, though nothing felt that different. It was like a new knowledge that did the opposite of what the meaning of knowledge was. It gave Draco a numb sort of feeling, but that could have been the fact that it simply hadn't sunk in yet.

"What are we going to do?"

Draco barely heard Harry's question, falling too deeply into his own thoughts. They couldn't really abort now, even if Harry would do it, which Draco knew he wouldn't. Neither of them were prepared for this, but it was too late now. He couldn't get rid of it, he couldn't kill something like that; that was murder. Despite what his father had in mind for him, and at that, Draco scowled at the thought, he couldn't kill something like that.

They needed help, Draco thought. He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, trying to think of what their options were. Who could they tell? He didn't want this getting out, though he'd be praised for taking Potter down a notch by buggering him, but there was a whole other side to that. If the Death Eaters found out anything about this, they'd use Draco as a ploy to capture Harry. He knew that for a fact, and he also knew that every time he left the school, he was watched by order of his dearly incarcerated father. He knew many Slytherins that kept tabs on Harry for their parents in the Dark Circles.

"Bloody hell," Draco said, sitting forward again, and resting his arms on his legs, looking towards Harry again. Harry had about as many ideas as Draco did. He was still trying to deal with being the one carrying a child, not just wondering what he was going to do. Harry looked back at Draco and didn't have to try hard to feel bad about the situation. At least Draco didn't seem to be too angry with him. That might have been what was making Harry uneasy right now; usually when he ticked Draco off, the other boy started some sort of fight. Though, what was he supposed to do now, make sick jokes about coat hangers? "Who can we talk to about this?"

Oh, thank Merlin one of them said something, putting gore and blood filled thoughts out of his head, though he knew Draco still could have meant it in the way of, 'Who can we talk to about this, so we can get rid of it?' Harry shrugged again, and sighed, feeling very unhelpful right now, but - wait. "Snape," Harry said suddenly.

"Snape?" Draco repeated, sounding almost surprised, before looking quite angry, Harry noted. "He isn't even here! We can't honestly wait too long on this, Harry." Harry nodded, knowing that, even though the consequences or options really hadn't settled in his mind yet.

"I don't want to tell anyone else. McGonagall would tell Dumbledore, and I'd rather not," have him be disappointed in me, Harry was about to say, or something like that, but he held it back, finishing with, "have him know." Harry didn't want to upset Draco any more than he seemed to already be. No, the Slytherin was more distressed than upset. Upset just didn't seem to be a word that suited Draco.

Harry sighed, it seemed he couldn't go more than half a year or, if he was lucky, a bit more, before getting into some sort of mess. Maybe if he asked Dumbledore where Snape went, he could somehow contact the Potions master. He didn't know what else to say, and he had to get back to the Great Hall. He didn't even want to think about telling Hermione and Ron about his... more personal situation. Harry was still having a hard time thinking that there was a baby inside of him.

"Great," he heard Draco say, more to himself than to Harry. "Just great." Draco squeezed his hands into fists, wanting to yell, or scream, or kick something really hard. Perhaps when Snape gets back, he'd kick him in the groin, though that might earn him some rather nasty tasks for the detention that particular act would give him.

They sat in silence for a moment before they heard the bell ring in the hall outside of the room. It signaled the end of their lunch break, and there was ten minutes to get to their next class before they would be termed late. They both stood up at the same time, and then looked at each other, sort of unsure of how they should part ways for the time being. They couldn't very well give each other a nice peck on the lips, could they? From the look on Draco's face, Harry really didn't think so. He opted for mumbling a, "Bye," and walked to the door. Draco followed a few feet behind, and Harry heard him shut the door after he'd left, but only heard a few footsteps. Harry turned around, but Draco had already disappeared down another hall, or, for all he knew, into another secret Slytherin passage.

@>*~

He'd made it back in time to catch up with Hermione and Ron before he lost them in the hallways, and they made their way up to Charms. It had been arranged that they'd have extra Charms classes when Professor Lupin was indisposed. There had been a vote for what class everyone would rather have, and Potions came in a great smacking last, with only two votes from Merlin knew who. Snape could have voted for himself. Twice. That was the only one they knew who would be nutty enough to want more time in Potions.

When it came down to it, it was between Transfiguration and Charms, and the latter won out, because McGonagall had came to one of the voting sessions with extra lesson plans. That certainly didn't win her many votes, especially since most students were hoping for basically free time. Harry sat between his friends at a table about half way into the room. They weren't right at the front, and weren't right at the back, so it wasn't too conspicuous, which Harry was thankful for. He still didn't feel much up for conversations lasting longer than three sentences, but he'd relaxed a bit through the class.

Telling Draco had lifted a bit of weight from his shoulders, but it seemed to only settle in his stomach, making him wonder about other things. Like, what were they going to do? That was, if Draco even wanted it, or him, for that matter. It still didn't feel right to say "baby", since the concept hadn't quite sunk in, yet, but it was getting there. As lucky as he was to have friends like his, they'd seemed to calm down over the matter, though there was still noticeable tension.

Never did Harry think they'd not want to be friends with him anymore, but when he got up into his dorm that day to find out they knew, he had to admit it had been the first thing that came to mind. Even if he was sleeping with the enemy, they were still by his side, despite not agreeing. Harry was busying himself by drawing spirals in the margins of his papers, happy to be in Charms, and even happier it was the last class of the day. Learning was too much to comprehend at the moment, and he frowned at the half assed notes he'd managed to take during the course of the class.

One good thing about extra Charms classes every month, they had less work to do in each individual class, which allowed more time for goofing off, if one so chose. Knowing that, Harry wondered why he was even trying to pay attention to what Professor Flitwick was saying. Since his mind was on other things, none of which remotely concerned Charms, he was glad to have good enough marks in Charms (an E average) that he didn't have to be all there during classes.

He already thought he'd do well enough on his NEWTs, but if he got a bad mark on anything, it would be Herbology. Harry almost grinned to himself at taking tutoring from Neville, who really was at the top of their Herbology class with an O average. Transfiguration wouldn't be too hard, and Defense Against the Dark Arts would definitely be easy for Harry. He'd already been taught a lot of the spells before they were introduced in class due to his occasional extracurricular training for the war.

It wasn't much of a war, though, Harry thought. And if it ever escalated to what he'd heard about the Muggle wars (though he'd also found out that a lot of those leaders were Dark wizards), he thought he could handle it. He'd already successfully won duels with Voldemort, and he knew considerably less than the Dark wizard. It sometimes made him wonder if the Dark Lord had no life at all, and had to get his kicks from attacking Harry year after year. What was the point, really?

Harry didn't see such an alluring coating on the power that so many wizards and Muggles alike sought after. All he saw was red tape and stress, and that wasn't worth it to Harry, but maybe that was what he secretly was striving for in his extra defense training. He wanted power underneath his good intentions, but it was undoubtedly a power struggle. No matter who won in the end, one of them, Harry or Voldemort, would have power. Over who, and what they chose to do with said power, that was what mattered, not that power was the problem.

Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he yawned was what he'd planned on doing, but when he'd opened his mouth, trying to let the air out, he felt a sickening taste slide up into his mouth. Harry gagged, and covered his mouth for an entirely different reason. Ron looked at him and brought a hand up and slapped him gently on the back, not really knowing something was wrong, just as more of a type of reassuring gesture. It really didn't help.

Harry shot his other hand up into the air, trying to swallow as another bit of vomit tried to lurch up his throat. "Yes, Harry?" he heard Professor Flitwick ask him. He tried to swallow, and slowly lowered his hand, and the one covering his mouth.

"Harry?"

Hermione asked quietly beside him, trying to turn him by his shoulder to look at her; he'd drawn the whole class' attention. Merlin, he hated when that happened. He would have sighed, but feared that he'd make a mess of Hermione's hair, makeup, lap, books and anything else in the immediate vicinity of his mouth. He managed to swallow, and he looked up at the front of the room, where Professor Flitwick was starting to hop down off of his desk to come and find out what was wrong. "Sir?" Harry began unsteadily. The teacher nodded, allowing Harry the floor. "May I be excused?"

"Oh! Certainly, Harry. Certainly." Professor Flitwick gestured towards the door, tottering back to his desk, still motioning for Harry to go ahead. Harry stood, stomach lurching as he did so in such a rapid fashion, and he swallowed again, trying to hold back the bile beginning to rise in his throat. He was eternally grateful that he wasn't in Potions right now, or else Snape would have taken ten minutes deciding whether to let him go or not. Harry would have glared back at the man, got out of his seat, walked calmly to the front of the room, and heaved up the contents of his guts onto the hem of Snape's robes.

If he wasn't too sick, and was still overly cocky after tossing his cookies, he'd grab part of the Slytherin professor's robes and wipe his mouth with it before returning to his seat. Detention for sure, and Harry grimaced, holding his stomach as he finally made it to the door and out of the room. He didn't say a word as he left and now he was almost blindly making his way down the hall in a pretty much random direction that he hoped a lavatory would be located in. He spotted a drinking fountain up ahead, and was glad for it, a signal that a bathroom would be right beside it, like it was on most floors.

He'd walked through the open door and had walked around three shelves of books before he couldn't hold it any longer. He scrambled to make it to a waste basket before throwing up, letting the disgusting half digested mess come surging up his throat. He wanted to lick the chunks of whatever the hell it was out of his mouth where they were stuck up between his gums and cheek, but didn't want to taste it at all. He opted for wiggling his mouth around and then spitting a great gob of gook into the garbage before getting up and making his way out of the library.

Casually using his foot to slide the basket under a chair, Harry took the most likely route so as not to run into Madam Pince in one of the aisles, and found the door back into the main hallway. He turned down the right hand passage from the library, and wondered how he'd gotten four floors up from the dungeons. Definitely detention for this, he thought, starting down the first set of stairs he came to.

@>*~

Harry had made it down to the main floor, just near the Great Hall before he heard the bell ring, meaning the end of the class. Harry sighed, feeling much better after having stopped and had a drink. He did find a bathroom, did some business there, and went on his way. He was glad not to have to go back to class, and he turned around when the bell sounded, and headed back up the stairs to go back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Harry!"

He turned around, by now back on the second floor, and saw Hermione jogging to catch up with him, Ron walking quickly behind her, carrying a pile of books and Harry's bag. "Hi," he said, and when Ron caught up, he took his bag from the pile and slung it over his shoulder.

"Hi?" Hermione questioned, wondering if Harry was alright. "Are you okay? You never made it back to class."

"Yeah, I'm fine, just got a bit sick. Too much going on, it sort of twisted my stomach up, I guess." He shrugged, and Hermione looked sympathetic. She knew he was going through a lot, more than she could sometimes fathom, and supposed that she did take all that he had to do for granted, thinking he just took it in stride with no aftereffects. Draco wasn't making things any better, but that was Harry's decision.

"You look a bit pale," Ron said, hoping Harry wasn't still going to be sick, as he quite looked like it, in Ron's opinion. They didn't need to go find a house-elf to clean up puke from their dorms, or the carpet in the common room, for that matter. There had been a very nasty incident with some of Fred and George's Puking Pastilles; the Tower smelled like rotten cabbage for a week. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," he said. Better in there than in the dorms, he thought.

Hermione nodded her agreement, but she didn't want to pry. Harry didn't look very well, but he could just need some sleep, or for a load of his stress to be eliminated. She'd take some of it herself in a second, but she wasn't sure she could handle it. Her extra classes in third year were one thing, but she honestly had no idea what Harry did when he was gone with training cited as his excuse.

"Yeah, good idea," Harry said, rubbing his hair up off his forehead. It was a bit damp, but that could have been from the five sets of stairs he'd trekked up and down. "I'll get something to settle my stomach, and I'll come back to the Tower, unless she straps me down to a bed." Ron grinned and Hermione tried not to, though didn't quite manage. Madam Pomfrey was one of the best nurses in England, and she deserved respect, but maybe that was what had made her so snitty and bossy in the first place.

Harry turned down another hall when they came to it, and waved his friends off, who were giving him strange looks, though he was too far away by now to hear if they tried yelling something at him. The surrounding students were making too much noise, and Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "What on earth is he doing?" she asked Ron; the infirmary was in the opposite direction he was going.

"Well, it is Harry, and you know he's got a million shortcuts around the castle. Maybe there's one down there, instead of walking all the way to the west wing." He nudged her with his pile of his and Harry's books, and one of her's, and she started walking again, back to the common room. When Harry got to the end of the corridor he'd turned down, he frowned. Had he gone the wrong way? It didn't have the slowly growing sterile feeling (and smell) as it usually did when one was on their way to the hospital wing.

Harry held onto the strap over his shoulder, other hand in his pocket, and he turned down another hallway, the one that looked a lighter color than the other. It had seemed like a nice orange glow from the sunset through the windows, but it wasn't. It was a torch-lit hall with no windows at all, just the glow from the fire in the sconces, reflecting on the surface of a large golden statue of a gargoyle, set in an alcove in the wall.

Frowning at it for a moment, Harry remembered that it was the doorway to the Headmaster's chambers. Suddenly, the statue began to rotate on its base, and Harry looked around quickly, trying to find somewhere to hide. There was another statue of the four founders about three meters away from him, and he just made it behind the sculpture before he saw a swirl of deep green robes, watching as Professor McGonagall stepped from the alcove and made her way down the hall in the other direction as Harry was hiding.

Quickly, Harry ran to the gargoyle, and jumped up onto the spiral staircase before it stopped moving, hidden from view until the password was spoken. Right, the password, Harry thought. He'd forgotten that he probably knew it, and simply just snuck his way into this passage anyway. Well, at least he was good at one thing. When the stairs stopped turning, he stepped from them and they started up again, twisting until the gargoyle stood facing him, and Harry wondered how it managed to sit here, facing him, when it had sat facing him when he was in the hallway beneath the stairs.

Odd, he thought, but put that out of his mind, excusing it as simply a trick staircase, that really wasn't elevated at all, but just a charm to make it seem that way. Harry shook his head, completely not understanding the mechanics, and it didn't seem like he would unless he sat and stared and thought for a while, but that really wasn't what he wanted to do. While he was here anyway, he might as well ask.

He had wanted to speak to the Headmaster, and now that he found himself here, though, he almost didn't want to. He hadn't had any training results from various teachers to give to Dumbledore, so he hadn't been in the man's office for a while. He started towards the door to said office, but stopped, frowning as his hand was poised to knock on the door. How did he manage to find himself here? Wasn't he supposed to be in Charms?

Nevermind his destination was no where near his current location, Harry knocked. It was a moment before the door creaked open of its own accord, and Harry stepped inside, closing it behind himself. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, a few books open, and a long quill, suspiciously looking as if it was recently plucked out of Fawkes' tail, in his hand as he marked various things down on a blank page of the book. Harry walked up to the desk, and looked down at the page. It was still blank, despite the quill clearly being inked, and Dumbledore's continued additions to the page.

With a flourish, Dumbledore seemed to place a period at the end of the page, and set his quill down. "Invisible to all but those who wish not to view them for unjust purposes, Harry," the old wizard explained, closing the book with the blank pages. It was a huge book, filled with many pages, and Harry saw on the spine 'Hogwarts Student Records Vol. 824'. "Now," Dumbledore said, pushing the book to the side and recapping his ink bottle. "How can I help you, Harry?"

Harry sat down in a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, pulling his bag from his shoulder and setting it on the floor beside him. He looked to Dumbledore, who was peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, fingers laced as he sat his hands on top of the desk. "Sir, I was wondering if you could tell me where Professor Snape went?"

"Severus' current location is of no immediate concern to your studies, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, though not sounding condescending. "Why would you wish to know such a thing?"

"It's important that I speak to him about... something," Harry said, unable to think of a better way to say... something. Why did he want to talk to Snape? He was ready to throw a small tantrum, but for what purpose? Snape was the only person who knew, and Draco would know what to do. They had to talk to Snape. He shouldn't act childish, but he was also tired of people keeping things from him.

Not that he absolutely needed to know this bit of information, but he could take care of himself when it came to knowledge. He could handle things, as he'd proved over the years, and yet not many seemed to give him credit for it; Dumbledore did on occasion, which was why Harry was here inquiring about Snape's whereabouts. "Are you sure this isn't something you could talk to me about? Or perhaps even Minerva?"

"No, sir. I don't think so." Oh, how embarrassed he was about to be right now if they didn't change the subject. Not that he could, since this was why he was here, not to just have idle chit-chat over tea with the Headmaster, who happens to be the greatest wizard in the world, could read your damn mind, and know exactly what you were up to before you had a chance to pee your pants at the sheer overwhelming quality of the situations Harry always seemed to find himself in.

He just had to not give Dumbledore too much of a reason to be suspicious. Dumbledore knew very well that Professor Snape and Harry disliked each other, and their relationship was less than positive even in the smallest encounters. Harry hated to disappoint Dumbledore, and they both knew that. It was good for Harry to take on things by himself, and not to rely on people who may not always be there in his times of need, regardless of whether they wished they could be or not.

Dumbledore sat, falling silent as he gazed at Harry, a calculating look crossing his face before he conceded. "Very well, Harry. You may find Professor Snape at the Castle of Durmstrang. Keep in mind that he is on a confidential mission directly sent by myself, and it is not to be compromised by letting that particular information out to anyone else."

Right, don't tell anyone. Harry nodded his acknowledgement at the request and made his way to the door. "Thank you, sir," he said before opening the door and walking out, never noticing that Dumbledore was smiling at him with a knowing expression. Dumbledore didn't think he should ever keep anything from Harry, but it was continuing to be tempting, again. Even though he knew he had potentially put Harry's and Draco's lives in danger, if they wanted to go, there was not much he could do to stop them, even if he told them they were being punted crudely in the direction of the Dark Lord.

@>*~

Later that night, Harry couldn't help but become restless. After getting back to Gryffindor Tower, he'd told his friends that as he was on his way to the infirmary, he'd felt better, so he turned around, and after two confusing hallways, he found himself back in the common room. Harry watched Ron try and teach Hermione to play wizards chess for the thousandth time, and it was enjoyable, and succeeded in taking Harry's mind off other things, but not for long.

When it was time for their evening meal, Harry focused on eating, and only looked for Draco once, before going back to the common room to start on his homework for the day. He hadn't had a class with Draco in the afternoon, and he felt like things were left unfinished between them, though that could just be from the way they parted. It didn't feel right to leave without something happening between them, like it usually did from their confrontations. It felt like something was missing, and Harry tried to squish those thoughts out of his head, to try and get some sleep.

It didn't work, and here he lay, restless and wide awake. He finished all of his homework, and helped Ron with his Astronomy paper before going up to bed, thinking he was tired enough and his brain overworked enough to just fall right asleep. Well, he'd been wrong, and all he could think about was a certain silver haired Slytherin. Harry got up and went to the end of his bed where his trunk was open, trousers strewn about it from where he'd tossed them before getting into bed. He grabbed them, quickly took his pajama bottoms off, and put his trousers back on.

They were a comfortable, loose fit, black, and they were durable, good for a lot of purposes, and not to mention they went with anything, which was very good considering his fashion ineptitude, as Lavender liked to put it. He rifled in his trunk for another shirt, picking a heavier sweater, a deep blue color, and he pulled that on over top of a black t-shirt. Grabbing his robes, and his invisibility cloak, Harry wrapped both around himself before closing the curtains on his bed and making his way out of the room.

When he got downstairs, there weren't many people awake still, despite the relatively early hour. Ron was still up, putting away his chess set, and Harry stayed as quiet as he could as he made his way to the portrait door, and when Ron's back was turned, Harry opened the door quickly and left, hoping the Fat Lady wouldn't make a fuss over an invisible entity. She turned out to be asleep, and Harry hurried down the hall.

Down a flight of stairs, two corridors, past the Great Hall, down another staircase, a left turn, and he found himself in the main passage leading into the dungeons. What a lot of people didn't know was that there were two floors to the dungeons, though it was more like one and a half. Harry jogged down the halls in search of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Unlike the rest of the Houses, the Slytherins actual housing wasn't hidden. It was well known it was in the dungeons, but who in their right mind would ever go looking for it?

Granted, it wasn't in plain sight, as to go along with the general theme, but for someone who knew the tricks of the unseen and overlooked by Salazar Slytherin, Harry soon found what he was looking for. There was a black doorframe, engraved with twisting and twining serpents in the wood, and inside the borders of the frame, were blocks of stone, much like the normal walls of the castle. The thing was, the stones were cut in different sizes here, and arranged to make the picture of a cobra rising to strike.

It was a marvelous work of mosaic, and Harry didn't have much time to inspect the masonry for too long before he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He pressed himself up in the nearest corner, forgetting he was invisible for the time being, though he relaxed when he remembered, waiting for the owner of the steps to appear. It was Millicent Bulstrode, and he knew she was a Slytherin Prefect, which is why she was in the halls at this time. Harry guessed it wasn't much past eleven at night, but they had to go to bed early to get up early.

Of course, there were some who pulled all-nighters, but since you couldn't do much at night without drawing a teacher's attention, most people just went to bed at around ten-thirty. Belatedly, Harry realized that he would have needed a password to enter into the core of Slytherin territory, and shuffled quietly to get back to the door before it shut itself after Millicent passed through. "Vipera penetro."

Harry watched as the cobra's fangs elongated, and a faint hissing sound emanated from the stones as they started to slide away from each other, rearranging themselves much like the secret passage Draco had used to get them down to Potions on time. He hurried to slip in behind Millicent, meanwhile wondering how many secret passages Salazar had built into the school that weren't on the Marauder's Map, something major.

Once inside, Harry was confronted with the sheer size of the ceiling, and the luxurious furniture in the common room. He'd been in the room before, but it seemed a lot more sharper this time around, as he'd had nothing much else to focus on other than gawking at the portraits on the walls. There was a large picture of their House Founder above an equally large fireplace, three wing-back black leather chairs fanned out in front of the crackling fire.

Harry almost tripped, not noticing the stairs he'd almost stumbled down. That would certainly have blown his cover, toppling down the stairs and landing in a heap at the bottom. There were still a few students up and doing homework in the common room, and a girl reading on one of the couches near the fire. He watched her as he stepped down the stairs, knowing that there weren't many girls in Slytherin at all, and that most were really ugly or, quite frankly, dogs. She was pretty in a quiet, dark-haired, glasses, bookworm sort of way, and Harry wondered if people thought that about him, except the bookworm part.

He was more of an adventurous type, which he supposed canceled out the quiet part. The decor was set out in mostly black and deep green, with the dark and light greys of the stone which made up the entire walls, floor and ceiling. It wasn't as drab and dark as he'd faintly remembered, but it wasn't as cheery as Gryffindor Tower, though it was really nice, in a rich sort of way. Harry was sure he could appreciate the effort and money gone into decorating the rooms in the Slytherin dormitories and common room, but he had other things to do right now.

Looking around at the doors in the room, Harry spotted three bathrooms (girls, boys, and Prefects) and the doors leading through to the dormitories. One for girls, on the right, and the boys' door was on the left. Harry made directly towards it, deviating to walk around a couch or a table, and he made sure no one was looking before he pushed the handle down, black marble carved out as the end of a snake's tail, and entered into the next room. Now he was in a hallway that had three doors on each side, and one on the end.

He looked to each side, and they were labeled by year. Common logic would state that the year he was looking for was at the end of the hall, the main door at the other end. He made his way to that door, and sure enough, in ornate silver lettering, it read "Seventh Year." Harry opened the door, but before he did, he took a deep breath and secured his hold of the cloak around himself. He squinted his eyes, ready for an impossible scene, no way for himself to speak to Draco, but found himself in a moderately sized round room.

Harry frowned, wondering if this was a trick, and the room knew he wasn't a Slytherin, and was therefore leading him through a maze, by not letting him see the right doors and choosing the wrong one. No, that wasn't true, Harry found out, as he looked around the room at the rest of the doors that lined the curving wall. It was another small common room, exclusively for the seventh years. There was a smaller fireplace, a large table, and couches (curved to fit against the walls) around where there was room between doors and portraits and a notice board.

There was no one in the room, for which Harry was thankful, though he did take time to worry about what he'd walk into next. He went up to the door closest to him, and read "Nott" and "Crabbe." Harry snickered. Not crab, like written in olde English. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help it. It seemed that there were only two occupants to a room, their names stated on the door. Harry walked around the room until he came to "Zabini" and "Malfoy."

Harry couldn't recall hearing much about Zabini, and to be honest, he'd forgotten the boy's first name. He thought for a minute before remembering. Blaise, that was it. Harry opened the door, not as tentatively as he had before, and went into the room. It was lit with sconces on each wall, because this room did, indeed, have four walls, not being circular like the small common room. Harry looked behind himself to the door, and it was a flat wall. He frowned, but chalked it up to more charms and let it be.

There was a moment before Harry determined which bed to go to, and decided upon seeing a small tuft of blond hair sticking out from under the covers of the bed to the left of the room. Harry crept up quietly, hoping not to wake Draco's roommate. He got to the edge of Draco's bed, the side that Draco was facing, toward the wall, and he decided to sit down. Draco felt the new weight on his bed and opened his eyes. They were a bit blurry and strained, but he would know Harry's face anywhere. Whether Harry had on his invisibility cloak or not. "What are you doing here?"

"You know it's me?" Harry asked, quiet, still mindful of their not so private state. He smiled a bit.

"Who else would come and sit in the curve of my body in the middle of the night, under an invisibility cloak?" Draco whispered, following Harry's quiet tone. Honestly, he would have forgotten about Blaise, and he spared a moment to glance across the room, making sure that the other boy was asleep. "I thought you were mad at me," he said, and almost felt he hadn't because he didn't want this to escalate into some type of verbal spat. And, since we're already in a fucking bed, Draco thought, it wouldn't take much to go past verbal.

"I'm not," Harry said, answering Draco's not quite question, "but we've got to go." He sat up from the bed, holding his cloak over his arm, and allowing Draco to sit up. Draco did sit up, and he rubbed at the side of his face that was against the pillow. Harry couldn't help it, and he watched Draco, looking at the other boy's body before snapping out of it when Draco looked back to him. His hair was out of its usual slicked back state, falling freely without being held with some type of gel. It looked a paler blond like that.

"Listen," Harry started, but quieted his voice again at Draco's shush. "We need to talk to Snape before this gets any worse, or farther, or whatever I'm supposed to call it," Harry said, not answering Draco's question, but clearly sounding confused about what he was worried about. "The only chance we have before that happens, is to find him. I don't want to tell anyone else."

"Where is he?" Draco asked, confused himself, but understanding Harry's train of thought on the matter.

"Durmstrang."

"Are you mad?" Harry didn't answer him, just shrugged his shoulders and stood, grabbing Draco's wrist and pulling him up to his own feet, and Harry turned before he could fall under the spell that seemed to like to hold teenage boys' attention to certain sexual parts of others' anatomy. Before Draco could really say anything at all about the plan, Harry took off towards the door, not shutting it behind him, and Draco heard the interior common room door shut as Harry simply left without him.

Draco sighed, rubbing at his forehead for a moment, and flipping his hair back, though some of it still fell down to the sides, and it stayed out of his face for the most part now. He definitely didn't have time to do his hair. He wasn't utterly oblivious when it came to Harry's tendency of jumping off on the wrong foot into poorly planned adventurous activities, so the least he could do would be to keep Harry out of the major bits of trouble he was headed for.

He knew the only possible reason Snape had for going to Durmstrang was for the Dark Arts. The exception was the Triwizard Tournament, but every few hundred years wasn't often enough to be called a reason to go to that cold, godforsaken place. Draco would know, having been there a few times himself, with Lucius, of course.

Oh, and Harry has completely fallen off his rocker, Draco surmised. Harry had come down to the dungeons to enlist his help, and rightfully so. He knew Snape better than Harry on this type of level, though Draco did wonder about what went on when, on the few occasions Snape had said something about training, and his door was found locked with Harry Potter having "detention" that day. It was with a bit of a begrudging acceptance to a choice he didn't quite make for himself, that he was going to go with Harry. Even if it was for no other reason than to lead the way there and to keep this delusional side of Potter from doing something stupid.

"Well," Draco said, sounding resigned, but challenged, as he tossed the covers of his bed aside, and stood up. "I guess we're going to Durmstrang," he said quietly to himself, shaking his head as he gathered a few things into his school bag, after dumping out his books on his bed. He certainly wouldn't need those where they were going. Stopping at his bed side table, Draco put his watch on, and opened the small drawer there, and retrieved a bag of money, which also contained a key to his vault at the bank. Satisfied that he'd collected all they'd need immediately on their impromptu trip, Draco followed after Harry, who he found waiting near the stone door out of the Slytherin common room.

Stone echoes things very well, whether you want to hear things or not. At least he knew who Draco's latest lover was. Blaise had to admit, it was a bit impressive: Harry Potter, Draco's lover. He didn't suppose anyone else knew about it, but if what he heard was true, and the two of them were going off to a school for Dark Arts, of all places, and together no less, people were going to notice. If the Headmaster didn't know where they were, close friends would be questioned and that wasn't a pleasant thought, especially considering Draco's father, incarcerated or not.

By now, Harry and Draco had made it up to the main floor, and out onto the front grounds of the castle lawns, and were heading towards the gate. From a window in the east tower, they certainly looked small and unrecognizable to someone who didn't already know who they were, or where they were going. Dumbledore watched as the two figures sprinted across the grounds. He had not expected the second addition, but new things happen every day; who was he to question unlikely relations? Slytherin and Gryffindor were best friends, after all. Perhaps this would be the beginning of a new reconciliation of Houses.

Shaking his head, the Headmaster looked down to the note he held in his hand. He smiled at it, his eyes twinkling as he looked back to his desk where Harry's school bag now lay. Fawkes crooned and Dumbledore walked from the window after one last look toward the gates; normally they were shut at night, but tonight would be an exception. He stroked the golden feathers between his phoenix's eyes, and the bird closed them, letting out another soft sound.

@>*~