Come Undone

Body


Warning and Disclaimer: part 1

Lay Me Down To Crawl

"A friend in need's a friend indeed but a friend who

bleeds is better"- Brian Molko of Placebo, 'Pure Morning'

from the album, Without You I'm Nothing, 1998

"Coliiiiin Draco moaned wantonly, his body writhing jerkily against the rough mahogany of the developing room door, making the hinges squeal.

"Dra you fucking talented gitOHHH!" Colin smiled wickedly as he continued prodding the developing paper in the sepia liquid, submerging the shiny print with his tongs. Draco continued slamming himself against the door, just barely managing to suppress his maniac giggles as he listened to Hannah Abbott and Lavender Brown squeal and gasp on the other side of the door.

"Yesriiiiiight THERE! YES!" Draco screamed when Colin pulled the print out of the toner and placed it in the sink of running water. On the other side of the door, Lavender and Hannah had burst into gales of laughter. Draco and Colin could hear their shoes clacking on the stone floor as they ran to the door to the dungeons, undoubtedly going to tell the rest of the school what Draco Malfoy was doing in the developing room with Colin Creevey. "There, that should hold them over for a while," he finally said once their footsteps had died away.

"Fanks, Draco, vat was wonderful," Colin giggled. "Best I ever had."

Raising an eyebrow in undeniable insinuation, Draco slowly approached the other boy. "Oh, it gets better," he said huskily, making Colin visibly shiver as he began backing away. His back hit the wall and Draco was directly in front of him, his hands on either side of his waist.

"Ahh D-draco?" He cleared his throat.

"'S all right, love," he cooed as he bent his head down and began snaking his arms around the other's waist. Gently, he pressed his lips against the other boy's, which were quite unresponsive. Increasing the pressure just slightly, he tried to coax Colin into relaxing for him, but he would have none of it. Draco was getting frustrated and almost gave up when the smaller boy involuntarily opened his lips to breathe. Instead, he just wound up accepting Draco's tongue into his mouth. Without even realising what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and kissed him back.

Of course he shouldn't like it, Colin knew. It was wrong. He could never really have Draco, and he knew it. But he had to admit that it did feel good and it definitely didn't feel wrong. Draco's tongue was exploring his mouth in such a fashion that Colin could have called it making love. That is, if it was anything but lust and hormone driven. Draco didn't want him, he never could want him, and he never really would want him. Draco was off limits; he knew it and had stayed away from him. Forbidden fruit, he mused, always tasted so fucking sweet. And Draco was his sweetest by far. Of course, he would have to pay the consequences for allowing himself to indulge in this sin, but in the moment, that thought was somewhere in far left field.

Lips broke apart and Draco moved his mouth to Colin's jaw, kissing it very softly down to his chin. He looked up into his companion's eyes and saw the worry there.

"What's the matter?" he asked, standing up straight but not letting the other boy go.

"We can't do vis, Draco," he mumbled, sadly shaking his head.

"Actually, I think we can," he replied as he leaned down for another kiss, but Colin stopped him. "What?" He was trying very hard not to get impatient, but it was very difficult.

"We. Can't. Do. Vis," he repeated. "It's not right."

"Why isn't it right?" Draco demanded, finally letting him go.

"Because I like you too much to indulge in me own fantasies," Colin told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'ra only friend I've ever had an' I don' wanna jeopardise it. I've got no illusions about it, ya' know, and I don' wanna give meself hope for somefinat'll never happen."

"But it can happen," Draco insisted. "I wouldn't be telling you this if I thought-"

"Draco," interrupted Colin. He inhaled deeply in an effort to keep himself under control. "You don' know how much I wishat was true." He held up a hand when Draco opened his mouth to speak. "Please jus' let me finish. I know your intentions are noble. I know ya don' wanna lead me on; I believe you. But I know fings I don' fink you know and I'm not going to put eiver one of us in a positionat'll only turn out bad. Please jus' take me word for it. Justis once."

"What fings do you know that I don't?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"I can' tell ya vat, eiver," he sighed. The other boy reached out to touch his shoulder, but he skirted away and stared at the floor. "Please, Draco, I don' wanna risk it."

"What's there to risk?" he demanded.

"I already told ya, I like you too much to indulge in me own fantasies. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but I don' wanna find outta hard way," he explained, once again making eye contact with the slightly taller boy. "I'd ravver we just put vis behind us. All right?"

"And if you are wrong?" Draco asked, sounding for all the world like an angry child. He quite looked the part, as well, with his hands on his slim hips and his lower lip stuck out in an almost irresistible pout. "What then?"

"Ven we go fromair. I said no and I meant no, Draco. It's for your own good. Trust me."

For a very long moment, both boys just stared at each other, as though sizing each other up. Draco finally decided that he would leave Colin be, at least for the time. "All right," he said. "I'm sorry I pressed you like that."

"'S all right," Colin said with a smile. "So we square now?"

"Yeah, we're square," Draco agreed, also smiling.

After hanging his last picture up to dry, Colin and Draco left the darkroom. Outside the door were probably fifteen girls, all trying to get a better look at the boys who had just emerged from the place of their alleged interlude. A few wolf whistles and cat calls followed them up the dungeon stairs and they laughed all the way.

"Wonder what dinner's going to be like," Draco mused as they ascended the stairs to the upper floors.

"About a fousand timesat," Colin replied, half-laughing. "So forget about being inconspicuous."

"Inconspicuous and me don't exactly go hand in hand," he sighed. "Not when I gotta follow Harry around all the time."

Colin said nothing and they spent the rest of the way to the portrait of Sir Cadogan in silence. Harry was the perpetual topic of non-conversation between them and Colin half-suspected that it would always be that way. Whenever one of them mentioned his name, Draco would stop talking and remain silent until another person crossed their path or it came time for them to part, as it did then.

Draco stopped his companion a few feet from his door. "I'm sorry I did that, Colin. Really. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable."

"I know," he replied with a rather weak smile. "It happens."

Shuffling his feet nervously, Draco muttered, "And

"Pullin' your head outta your gutter?" Colin finished for him. His smile turned into a full fledged grin. "No problem."

"You know, Creevey, you're all right," Draco laughed.

"You're not too bad yourself, Malfoy," he replied. "Tell Harry I said 'hi'." And with that, he turned and headed tow the the Fat Lady, leaving Draco slightly confused and very disappointed.

"Fuckin' hell," Draco muttered as he walked the short distance to his door. "Hi, Cadogan."

"'Allo, Good Sir," the little knight beamed. His smile faded immediately and he asked, "All right?"

"Fine," he lied. "Just been a long day."

"That scurvy young bastard giving you hell?" he demanded, brandishing his sword and swaying in the process. "I'll tear him apart, the-"

"Oh, leave Colin alone," Draco laughed. "It's not his fault. Um... shit. Butterbeer?"

"You've got one?" the tiny knight asked.

"No, that's the password, isn't it?"

"Oh! I do believe you're right, Good Sir!" Cadogan swung open. "Though I wouldn't object to a warm mug if you've got one."

"Sorry, Cadogan. Maybe later," Draco told him quickly as he passed into the other room. Harry was already sitting at the back table with parchments, books, and quills strewn about haphazardly. "Goodness! Did a tornado strike?" Draco exclaimed upon seeing the wreckage that had become his living quarters.

"You're so funny," Harry replied distractedly. Not a split second later, he slammed his book shut and cried, "Stupid fucking Binns!"

"Deep breath, Harry," Draco cooed over his shoulder. He was busy rummaging through his night stand and pulling out rolls of parchments periodically. "Just breathe. That's a good boy."

"Fuck off," he snapped. "Where's Colin? Surely he misses being tortured by your existence."

"Oh! Wit from a Gryffindor! That might just be one for the history books. Five points for a rare show of brains!"

"Out!" Harry barked, pointing to the door.

"And here I was thinking that we were making real progress," Draco sighed. "Ah, well. Good things never last, do they?"

"With you around? No, they certainly don't."

"I love you too, Harry," Draco growled on his way out the door, at least two dozen rolls of parchment in a satchel around his neck. "Fucking prick," he muttered as the door shut behind him.

"Shall I refuse him entry?" Cadogan asked jovially.

"Nah. Just give him a hard timell yll you?"

"Of course, Good Sir!"

"Thanks, Cadogan," Draco laughed. He turned down the hall and headed for the one place he was sure he would be safe from all things Potter: the library.

*****

A Thousand Magickal Herbs and Fungi tucked under her arm and parchment in hand, Hermione wove through the maze of shelves to the very back of the library and her favourite table when her face fell. There, in her very own spot, was none other than Draco Malfoy. Beside him stood a stack of books and about a dozen rolls of clean parchments. Just as she had decided to find somewhere else to complete her homework, Draco looked up.

"Granger," he said quietly by way of a greeting.

"Malfoy," she greeted in turn.

"Am I in your spot?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he began shuffling his things to accommodate another person and switched to an adjacent seat. "If you want to sit here, I won't bother you," he told her almost timidly. "I just sit here because no one's usually back here."

"Would you mind?" she asked, slightly surprised and completely thrown off.

"Not at all," he replied, sounding almost grateful for company.

Reluctantly, she accepted the strange offer and sat down beside the boy. For a few moments, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, fascinated like she'd never seen a creature quite like him before in her life. Finally content that he meant nothing -friendly or otherwise, she cracked her book and unrolled her parchment. Withinutinutes, she was lost skimming the section on wormwood and taking constant notes.

Beside her, Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye. He was as skeptical of her as she was of him, but he did feel slightly more disturbed by her presence. He'd honestly not expected her to accept the offer for her to sit with him, but was also not perturbed when she did so. Usually, he spent his hours in the library in complete solitude; Madame Pince hardly ever came back to check on him if she even knew he was there. Hermione, while the third member of the Trio, didn't seem to want to impose herself in the slightest and seemed about as content with sitting with Draco as she would virtually anyone else. No one ever treated him like that, and the fact that she of all people did made him feel more than slightly uneasy.

It was not long after the two students had fallen completely into their books that Draco sighed and dropped his quill. He ran a hand through his feathery blonde hair, continuing to stare at the book in front of him. The sound of the quill drew Hermione's attention from her task and she involuntarily glanced over at Draco's stack of books.

"Whatcha working on?" she asked, trying to keep the air between them as relaxed as possible. As she looked over the titles, realisation dawned on her. "Those are all from the restricted section," she noted, more to herself than her companion. "We don't have to get that detailed, do we?"

"No," Draco replied with a smirk that belied his genuine humour. "Believe it or not, this here is all completely voluntary."

"So what is it?" she asked again. "Anything I can help with?"

"Snape's essay that boring?" he half-laughed.

"Unbelievably boring," she gushed. "Who honestly knows so little about wormwood that they'd need to write a meter long essay on its properties?" Sighing into her hands, she laughed shortly. "And now I'm starting to sound like the boys. Sorry."

"Hey, considering that you've spent the last five years with them, you're not doing too bad," Draco told her. "I've only been hanging out with Colin for a few weeks and I'm already catching myself replacing 'th's with v's and f's."

"Cockney Malfoy," she laughed.

"Isn't that the name of some rock band?"

"Cockney Rebel," she corrected.

"Same thing. Though I don't think any of my family ever lived in the East End. No, definitely not. They wouldn't be caught dead with such 'low class scum'," he spat. "I'll bet my grandfather's rolling around in his grave."

"Right. Soooo..... What did you say you were working on again?" she asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

"I didn't." Draco looked his companion up and down as though he'd never seen anything quite like her before. "You know, maybe I could use your help. Can you keep a secret?"

"You mean can I be trusted not to tell Ron and Harry?" she sighed.

"Can you be trusted to tell no one?"

"When you ask me to keep my mouth shut, I keep my mouth shut," Hermione said very evenly. "Regardless of who you are," she pointedly added. Draco regarded her with a small measure of suspicion, but mostly it was genuine curiosity and interest. When he said nothing right away, she went on: "So, if I'm helping you, does that mean we can be on a first name basis?"

"What?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

"I don't know," she sighed, "I just think this formal bullshit is... well, bullshit."

Draco smiled. "I can dig it. All right. Hermione, then?"

"Ah, so you do know my name! All this time I was hoping you were calling me 'Granger' simply because you didn't," she replied sarcastically, although the tone wasn't quite insolent enough to tick the volatile little blonde off too badly.

"Mm," he hummed, unimpressed. "So what's your excuse?"

"For what?"

"I take it you know my name?" he questioned with a quirked brow. She nodded. "So why don't you use it if you know it?"

"Why don't you?" she countered.

"Because... you don't want to know. So, do you really wao heo help me?" he asked, deviating quite successfully from that topic of discussion. "Because I could really use it about now."

"Ha!" she exclaimed, laughing. "So you are human after all!"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" hissed Draco.

"Nothing. Sorry. Just being terribly juvenile."

"I noticed," he replied, his attitude improving once more. "But you'd better be quiet or we're liable to get thrown out."

"That would be next to impossible." Draco raised a questioning brow. "I help Madame Pince out once in a while," she admitted in hushed tones. "Being a nerd has its benefits."

Draco looked rather skeptical. "Hmm. Perhaps. But I'll leave the nerd racket all for you."

"Gee, thanks. But I would like to point out the ratio of nerds to...." she trailed off, staring at her companion with interest. "Huh. I have no idea what to call you."

"Special," he replied with a smug grin.

"For not having a definitive label?"

"Exactly."

"Gloat about it, why don't you."

"You got a label and I do-on't," he sang.

"You can do better than that."

"You think?"

"Only on occasion."

"What do you know about life bonds?" Draco asked suddenly and catching Hermione off guard.

Without missing a beat, she immediately began reciting: "Depending on what caused them, the result can be either permanent or temporary, but that doesn't happen very often. It usually only happens with the 'soul mate' -if you will- type of bond, but that's more psychological than it is physical. Physical bonds are generally permanent; at least, I've never heard of one that wasn't. It usually only happens with twins and what have you naturally, but it can be created artificially. But most of the methods for creating such a bond are really complex. Bondings like that were made illegal some five hundred years ago, because the International Wizard Council decided that it was more of a Dark Art than a Light one. Before that, the practice was reasonably common among wedded couples," she finished, grinning triumphantly.

"Wow," breathed Draco, really awed. "That's really cool. What do you know about... say... the healing properties of Mugwort?"

"That could take me forever, therso mso much," she replied. "So what about life-bonds?"

"Ha ha!" he laughed nervously, looking away from his companion and at the carpeted floor. "Funny thing about that."

Judging from the boy's obvious discomfiture at that last question, Hermione figured out why he and Harry had been assigned to each other since before school even started. She had a few vague ideas as to the sudden pairing, but tried not to give it a whole lot of thought for fear of disobeying the headmaster's directions not to ask them why. 'All things will be learned in their own time,' he'd said in the owl he'd sent her just hours before she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Life-bonds were not on the top of her list of Potential Reasons For Harry and Draco To Be Together All the Sodding Time. She was thinking more along the lines of trying to sway Draco to their side, to cut down on the nearly palpable animosity between them, or a hundred other things of that same innocent and innocuous nature.

Anyone with half a brain could tell that Draco and Harry had both changed very drastically over the two months school had been out. Draco, or the Boy Who Shouldn't Live (according to Ron), had left Hogwarts that twenty first day of June the same snide prig that he'd been since their first year, and he returned quiet, reserved, and just generally the opposite of everything he had once been. Harry had been all but a zombie last year. He had spoken only a handful of sentences to her and Ron combined and even fewer to teachers. He had all but stopped eating and had even started sneaking out to the forest to share cigarettes with Lee Jordan and Seamus Finnegan when the occasion arose. Then at the beginning of their sixth year, Harry had been overjoyed to see them. He was talking almost nonstop, his grades were improving once more, he was eating regularly, and -though he still smoked with Seamus on occasion- looked healthier than he had since the TriWizard Tournament.

It would seem that these were improvements upon their characters, but now Hermione seriously asked herself if that really was the case. Perhaps Draco had turned to near-silence merely because he had nothing to say anymore. Perhaps he was just dealing with this the best way he knew how, but the more she thought about it, the less likely that seemed. She suspected that he resented the hell out of the situation -as anyone would- and instead of causing a scene at every corner, had forced himself into refraining from making things more difficult for them both. Harry, on the other hand, would have appeared to have taken the news quite well and made an effort to accept his circumstances with a new zeal for living. Depression, she suspected, was the real root of his problem. He never did deal well with personal tragedy; he handled every other kind with utmost ease and grace. He was probably just trying to keep hold of himself for Draco's sake. At least, that's what he would inevitably tell her if she asked.

"Who did it?" she finally whispered after a considerable period of silence.

"Not us!" Draco quickly replied.

"I'm not stupid; I kind of figured that much," she snapped back. "I mean, who did it? How? Why? And of all people in the world, why you and Harry?"

Draco sighed heavily and sank into his chair. "Because it was the perfect set up," he whispered sadly. "Father could finally snag Harry if we were bound together."

'FATHER?' Hermione screamed in her mind. She couldn't believe that anyone, not even Lucius Malfoy, could bring themselves to do such a thing to their own child. "He was going to use you to get to Harry?"

"Yes, well..." he trailed off and stared into nothing, his hatred and anger towards his father rushing into his consciousness at full speed. After a moment he had gotten hold of himself and said, "Everyone's got a use, Hermione."

"No, Draco, no they don't," she insisted. "People are people, not things to be used and thrown away."

"Is that so?" he countered. "If that were the case, would you be friends with Golden Boy and his sidekick? Perhaps now you are genuinely friends, but what about in the beginning? What did they want from you in return for their companionship?"

Though she never looked at it like that, she knew that what Draco was saying was true. Yes, they really were friends now, especially she and Harry. They had grown closer over the years due mostly to Ron's immaturity and their overabundance of the opposite. But at the beginning of their first year.... they had ignored her, made fun of her, and never went out of their way to apologise for hurting her. Until the troll in the bathroom, but even then... no, it wasn't until the summer after their fourth year that they had really gotten close to each other. It wasn't until then that they really ever talked to each other about each other. And that was when they really became friends. But Draco was right. They had started out all wrong.

"They'll never throw you out," the blonde boy continued. "They need you and love you too much. You're lucky like that. But the rest of us? We all get thrown out. We all get used up and eventually we have nothing left to give so we go in the rubbish bin with the rest of the world's garbage. Weasley's another one like that. But we ask for it."

"Draco-"

"It doesn't depress me, if that's what you're worried about. That's life, you know?" he stated flatly. "I suppose we should be glad to have anything to offer the world at all."

This latest statement struck quite a blow to Hermione. It wasn't so much what he said or the context he'd meant it in, but just that he had said it. Draco Malfoy and self-depreciation were never used in the same sentence before unless one was pointing out the things he was not. Not quite knowing exactly how to respond, she took a deep breath and just said, "Everyfeelfeels like that, you know. It's one of those universal truths. But just because you think or feel that way doesn't mean that it is so."

Draco stared at his companion very, very fiercely. He wasn't sizing her up necessarily, but he was trying to assess her true intentions. Of all of Harry's friends, he disliked Hermione the least. She wasn't the know-it-all she'd been when they'd first come to Hogwarts. She was still very intelligent and was still the brains behind everything Harry and Ron did, but she wasn't irritating or in his face so much. In fact, she went out of her way to stay out of his face and remain civil to him after his outburst in the dining hall a few weeks earlier. Unlike most everyone else, she treated him with a kind of equal indifference that he very much admired. Whether or not she was saying the things she was saying because she was trying to make him feel better or just because it was the right thing to say, he didn't know, nor care about.

"Mind over matter?" he finally asked with a slight smirk.

"Perhaps," she replied. "So back to my original question, what created this? Spell? What?"

"A bloody potion, if you can believe that," Draco told her rather bitterly.

"How-? Never mind. Do you know what it was? The name of it or anything?"

"Yes, I've got the recipe and instructions but it isn't a whole lot of help. None of this is even remotely extraordinary," he sighed as he began searching through rolls of notes. "All the ingredients are rather bizarre, but they're also really sodding potent. It all fits together and it all makes sense and if you really think about it, it's extremely simple."

"That's one of the most difficult kinds of potions to brew," Hermione gaped. "What the hell do you mean it's simple?"

"If you know anything at all about potions, you'll understand what I mean," he replied as he handed one of the rolls to Hermione for her to read. "See what each ingredient is used for? It all makes sense and it's all rather simple. But it's irreversible. There isn't an herb or plant or animal or stone powerful enough to counteract the effects of it once everything is combined."

"Yes, I see what you mean," she said distractedly. "These directions make sense in the same way. It is a perfect combination of ingredients and movements... this is perfect, Draco. This is like... the ideal spell. It's completely unbreakable," she breathed.

"Yes, I am well aware," he ground out, suddenly angry at his father once more.

"Sorry," she quickly corrected as she made eye contact with her companion. "I didn't mean to sound... insensitive. I've just never seen anything quite like this before."

"And I doubt you'll ever see anything like it again. But what I want to know," continued Draco, his anger having subsided once more, "is what we can do to separate ourselves. I've heard that by latching on to your own emotions or something you can learn to.... separate ourselves."

"But, Draco," she said very sweetly like she was trying to let him down easy, "it doesn't work that way. You'll always be like this."

"I know that. But what I mean is..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "He's always in my head. He's not like... intrusive, but he's still there in the back of my mind all the time and I just want to figure out how to make him go away. Even for a little while."

"What's it like?" she asked, now totally intrigued with the concept.

"Sometimes it's like.... comforting. But mostly it's just weird; like I don't have my own life at all anymore," he struggled to explain. "When we're together it's like he doesn't need to be in my head, so he's not, but when we're apart, he's always there. I can tell where he is if I think hard enough about it, and I can tell what's going on around him. And sometimes I see him even if I don't want to."

"How clear is it?" she pressed, thoroughly enthralled. "Is it like... telepathy?"

"Mm, not telepathy, perse," he replied thoughtfully. "It's not like we sit there and tell each other stories and shit, you know? It's not like that at all. I can feel what he feels and see what he sees but it's... abstract. Telepathy would be more concrete, I think, than this is. This is like a survival tactic, essentially. Or so I've gathered from the books and everything," he finished sounding exasperated beyond belief.

Hermione looked over the recipe in her hands once more to see if there was a certain ingredient or instruction that would jump out as an explanation for the mental bond, but something else caught her eye instead. "This says the blood and flesh have to be taken from separate wounds," she noted with much interest. "I wonder why?"

"I don't know," he replied even though he knew her question didn't expect an immediate answer. Without thinking about it, Draco held out his left arm to show Hermione the scar down his forearm and the missing finger on his hand. He had neglected to think about the Mark on his arm or that she might see it, and was rather puzzled at the suddenly horrified expression on her face. "What?" he asked.

Expression turning from horror to anger in a matter of about two seconds, Hermione's glare held such fierce rage that she was rather surprised that Draco didn't combust under it. She said nothing as she grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the chair he wittiitting in. The back door was open and she dragged him through it and down the hall to the girls' bathroom. She pushed the door so hard that it smashed against the stone wall, making a horrible noise and twisting the handle and ripping one of the hinges out of the frame. There being close to a five inch height difference between them, Hermione was tossing Draco around like a doll. She threw him in ahead of her then quickly shut the door.

"Myrtle, I promise I'll come back and listen to your sniveling later, but I suggest you get the hell out of here right now," she ground out through clenched teeth as she continued to glare at the small boy cowering against the wall between two sinks.

"You again?" Myrtle groaned from the very last stall.

"Get. Out!" Hermione shrieked.

With a ghastly wail and a splash, Moaning Myrtle had made her exit. Hermione cast a spell on the entire room to keep it silent from prying ears before turning once more on Draco. She grabbed his arm and held it up so that he could see it, making him almost lose his balance.

"What is this?" she hissed. "Don't even try to lie to me."

"D-d-dark-k M-mark," stuttered Draco in an effort to begin explaining.

"I can see it's the bloody Dark Mark, you idiot!" she shouted, making Draco flinch. "I want to know what the hell it'sng ong on your arm!"

"B-burned," he told her. "When I go-ot h-home. I t-t-t-tried to get it off. It was a stu-u-pid mistake. J-j-just stupid."

"Yes, Draco, that was very stupid," she agreed. "What would posses you to do such a thing?"

"I just wanted my father to be proud of me!" Draco screamed, turning his face away in shame. He didn't want to nor had he planned on disclosing this information, but it was out before he had a second thought. Like it was a red-hot iron, Hermione dropped the boy's arm. "All I ever wanted was to make him proud of me!"

"If making your father proud of you meant making others dead, I don't think I'd be too eager to please," she muttered angrily. "What on Earth would make you think that?"

"Maybe because it's the only thing I've ever been told!" he shouted. "Maybe because that's the only thing I've ever been shown. The only thing my entire life that ever made my father want to do anything to me other than lynch me was if I did some kind of Dark Magick well. Voldemort accepted me, Hermione! That was all he ever wanted for me!"

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "How? How can you defend yourself like that?"

"Well, it's the truth! What? Would you rather I lie to you?"

"No, I don't want you to lie to me! But I don't fucking understand what would posses you to... to... to sell yourself like that," she finished sadly. "What could honestly mean that much to you that you'd willingly sell yourself?"

"One ounceaf approval," hissed Draco. "One sodding sign of affection. One less beating. It meant a million things to me and not one of which would ever end up happening. I've learned my fucking lesson. I don't need to be told what an idiot I am; I already know."

"I didn't mean it like that, Draco," she sighed. "I didn't mean to like... put you down like that. It was the wrong word to use, and I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, stupidity tends to spread, apparently," Draco said as he folded his arms across his chest.

"I apologised, but that doesn't mean that gives you the right to be mean now. Look, I'm honestly not trying to sound judgmental, but this is rather surprising; you've got to admit."

"Perhaps na?vet? makes one more excitable," he drawled as he looked at his fingernails.

"What is your fucking problem?" she asked incredulously, throwing her arms in the air. "How the hell can you go from... trying to be cool to being a fucking prick like that? I know I said some things I probably shouldn't have, but what makes you think it's your turn to be mean to me?"

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings? I'm so dreadfully sorry."

"No wonder Harry's so glad to see us in the morning!"

At the mention of Harry's name, Draco's face went slack and his fidgeting stopped. With all of his will, he focused on the presence in his head, trying to get some clue at to where the other boy was. He knew he was close, but he didn't know exactly how close without focusing. 'Probably wondered why he was panic attacking,' he thought bitterly as his partner's consciousness left his own.

The door opened slowly and Harry timidly stepped inside. "Hi," he said rather quietly. "Everything okay?"

"FINE!" both Draco and Hermione shouted at exactly the same time.

"O-okay."

"I'll be back shortly," Draco said, not leaving any room for discussion.

Nodding apprehensively, Harry exited the bathroom as though he were walking on eggshells the entire way. Draco and Hermione watched him go, hoping that their uneasy stares would force him to move more quickly. The door swung quietly shut, leaving the two alone once more.

Draco's face lost all expression. His eyes focused and unfocused, but remained glazed as he continued to stare, without blinking, at nothing. "He's standing outside," he said in a monotone a moment later. "He's angry at us both, but me especially." He came back to himself and focused on Hermione. "He's always mad at me."

"He's mad at the world," sighed Hermione.

"You have no idea," the blonde laughed bitterly.

"Does he have it as well?" she asked quietly.

"I'll give you one guess." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well. That explains some things, then, doesn't it?" she said more to herself than to her companion. She fell into her thoughts for some moments. She didn't move, let alone blink, for almost five minutes and Draco was getting concerned when she snapped her head up and said, "Maybe this could be an advantage."

"Excuse me?" Draco said, incredulous. "How on Earth could this-" he held out his arm "-be used to anyone's advantage?"

"Well, I read in a Dark Arts history that Voldemort used the Mark as a sort of communication device so that-"

"He could keep tabs on his followers," he finished. "And that's a fine idea. But this one bitsy detail throws it all off: this Mark was never charmed."

"What do you mean it was never charmed? No one ever said anything about it being charmed. I thought it would be a like... automatic connection type of thing once the thing was actually there."

"That would have been a whole other thing all its own," Draco replied, going into the same sort of trance Hermione went into when she was explaining something. "But the process that -as I understand it- is the process, Voldemort brands the image on the prospective Death Eater's arm and then he does some sort of elaborate charm that links that person to the chain of other Death Eaters. It's like a... it's the link to the network, if you will. The Mark on our arms is nothing more than a really sick tattoo. If I'd known that at the time..." he growled darkly. "Never mind. That was about the only intelligent thing he did in this whole operation. Now I'm labeled as a follower and I don't have any connection whatsoever to Voldemort or the rest of the Death Eaters."

"You thought it would be automatic connection, too?" she asked.

"Yes. Unfortunately I didn't take into account the other factors, like ritual and how long would it really take for one person to link a whole other person to a whole fucking web of people with a wand?" he drawled in reply, clearly disgusted with his lack of better judgment.

"Well," Hermione chuckled, "when you say it like that..."

"Shut up," Draco half-laughed, but immediately stopped himself when he realised he was making light of such an awful situation.

"So, is Harry still standing out there?"

Once more, Draco's face went slack. "No," he answered flatly. "He's... I can't tell. He's not really sure where he is." He snapped back to himself and made eye contact with Hermione. When he spoke again, he was definitely trying not to laugh. "There's something new and different, huh?"

"We should go," she said instead of admonishing him for mocking Harry. "We left all our stuff out."

Draco's face when whiter, if it was even possible. "Oh, dear."

No sooner had the words escaped his lips than he bolted past Hermione and out the door. She sighed resignedly and followed slowly behind him. Hardly anyone ever went that far back into the recesses of the library and if they did, she highly doubted they would have tampered with hers and Draco's things. The hallway was empty and the back door to the library stood slightly ajar. Draco stood over their table, taking inventory and sighed in relief when he found that everything was still there.

"Next time you decide to drag me out of the room, let me put this stuff away," he growled at Hermione as she gathered her own things toge.
.

"Sorry," she said ashamedly "I was a bit preoccupied."

"Mm. I noticed," he drawled. "But keep in mind that if this were to leak out-"

"Yeah, I know," she snapped. "I said I'm sorry; what else do you really want from me?"

"Nothing," sighed Draco, shouldering his satchel. "Sorry. I just tend to get a bit touchy when it comes to my life being threatened, you know?"

Hermione snorted, but said nothing. They left the library and walked the way to the Gryffindor corridor in silence. Both were a bit mentally blown away by the afternoon's events. From their civility to the exchange in the girls' bathroom, it had definitely been one of the strangest afternoons they had ever had. It came time for them to part and they stood in the hallway, shuffling their feet a bit awkwardly.

"So... I guess I'll catch you later, then?" Hermione said.

"Yeah. I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone, you know, 'cause-"

"Yeah, I know. I'm not stupid." She rolled her eyes.

"No, you're not," he replied, this time letting himself laugh. "See ya' around."

Hermione watched Draco's retreating back until he had reached the portrait of the crazy little knight. It was very difficult for her to believe that it was that boy who had taunted and tormented her and her two best friends for the better part of five and a half years at school. He was very nice to her that afternoon. With a few exceptions, of course, but nothing with Draco could ever be perfect, she reminded herself. She chuckled lowly to herself and continued on her own way to Gryffindor Tower.

*****

Friday of that week was Halloween and the school was in its usually excited state for the holiday and it falling on a Friday was almost too cool. Outside of Hogwarts, it was expected that Death Eater attacks would be abnormally high, according to the Ministry of Magick and the Daily Prophet. Inside, there was nothing to worry about. Hogwarts was as safe as it always was and always would be, Dumbledore had assured the school the previous night at dinner.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked Draco when they had left their room for classes that morning.

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Draco muttered in reply. For the last week and a half, he had been preparing himself both physically and emotionally for that very day, but the idea that it was already upon him was slightly unsettling.

"I thought you of all people would be excited about it," Harry continued.

"Why's that?"

"The whole macabre atmospherethe the holiday just screams Draco Malfoy," he laughed. When Draco made no response, Harry decided to explain himself. "I mean, you just seem the sort who would spend the whole year waiting impatiently for it to happen."

"But you're not," Draco stated in a monotone.

"Well, I dig it, but it isn't everything," he replied uneasily.

"No. Of course not. So tell me, which holiday do you wait impatiently all year for?" said Draco in the hopes of turning the focus onto anything but himself.

"I don't," Harry said very honestly. "I hate every last one of them."

"Why?"

"Holidays are family times," he replied quietly and without lookat hat his companion. "And in case you didn't notice, I don't have any."

"Halloween isn't exactly a family sort of holiday, though, you know?" Draco pointed out, trying to lighten Harry's suddenly dour mood.

"No, I guess it's not," he agreed. "But what is it, anyway? An excuse to pretend for a night that you're anything but yourself. Fuck it. What difference does one night make in comparison to the rest of the year?"

"It's more than that, you know," Draco said very quietly. "I've heard that it's the oldest holiday in existence. Some call it the Day of the Dead, All Saints Day, All Hallows. You get the drift. Some say it's the time when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest."

"What does that mean?" Harry inquired, interested in this new perspective.

"It means that the borders between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead are dissolved and the dead can walk amongst us, if you will. It's the time when those that have died during the year are put to rest and the old dead can come back for a visit," he explained.

"But the dead walk amongst us every day," Harry corrected.

Draco smiled softly. "Mm. True. I don't know then."

"You just don't want to take the time to make me feel like an idiot," he said flatly.

"I don't want to make you feel like an idiot,&quDracDraco defended himself. "I just don't think I have the patience to go into great detail right now."

They had, at that point, reached the doors to the Great Hall where breakfast was already underway. Jack-o'-lanterns hung suspended in the air above the tables, replacing the normally floating candles. Live bats fluttered around the ceiling, which had been enchanted to appear to be night all day. There was lively chatter coming from every student and even those at the staff table seemed excited. All in all, it seemed a normal Halloween.

Apprehension taking over his mind, Draco stopped a few feet from the entrance and took a few steps backward. Harry had nearly passed through the doors before he realised that he was alone.

"Draco?" he asked his distant companion.

He didn't respond. He just stared through the doors, an expression of blurred desperation on his face. Only after Harry had laid a hand on his shoulder did he make any sort of movement. "Harry, I have to go," he said, then promptly flew up the stairs they had just descended, Harry not far behind him.

About halfway to the seventh floor, Draco disappeared from Harry's field of vision and he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. Breakfast had been forgotten and classes right along with it. All he cared about was finding Draco and stopping the unexplained stream of tears running from his eyes. He had just reached the fifth floor when the adrenaline running through his system stopped abruptly. The tears had slowed but not stopped, allowing his vision to clear enough for him to feel confident enough to speed up. Within moments, he'd reached the seventh floor. He panted the password to Sir Cadogan, who grudgingly let him in, and nearly collapsed once he was inside.

"Draco?" he called softly, still having not caught his breath.

"Sorry." The sound was muffled by bedclothes, curtains, and a strangled sob.

Harry made his way to Draco's bed and climbed behind the curtains. The vision that greeted him made him want to sick then and there. Draco was curled into a fetal ball, his robe torn open and leaving his upper body completely exposed. In his hand he held a small knife that glittered eerily in the dim light. The thin trousers that were the only article of clothing he owned aside from the hand-me-down robe clung to his sweat and blood soakedy. By. But the most disturbing part of the scene by far was the calmly contented look on the small blonde's face. He took his glasses off, hoping to blur the scene and wiping his eyes, which had started streaming tears once more.

"God, Harry, I'm sorry I just did that, but I think I feel better," Draco mumbled as he looked up at Harry through slitted lids. "I hate that I do this, you know, but sometimes I don't have a choice I'm not trying to make you mad, I just want to die and since I can't this seemed like an all right alternative so please don't get mad at me I don't want you to be mad at me because I hate it when you're mad at me and you always are not that I don't deserve it I do-"

"Draco, please stop," Harry sobbed, his arms involuntarily reaching for the other boy and pulling him close. He wrenched the knife from Draco's fist and threw it out of the bed. "Please, please, please just stop."

"I can't," he whispered. "I've tried and I can't because I'm too fucking weak and stupid to want to stop and it doesn't hurt anymore when I do it so does that mean I'm evil?"

Tears continued to stream down Harry's face as he buried it in Draco's hair. He shook his head, squeezing the other boy just a bit tighter. He tried with all his might to deny the reality of the situation. Never in his life had he ever seen anything even remotely like that. He'd never known anyone personally that felt the need to hurt themselves like that. He'd seen enough after-school specials on television at the Dursley's to know that it happened, but the reality of it had never really occurred to him before then. The pain in his chest, arms, and stomach had finally reached him but it wasn't the same kind of pain that he was used to experiencing. It was a peaceful sort of pain and he found it slightly appealing, scaring himself further.

"It feels so good, Harry," Draco continued. "Oh god, but it feels so sodding good. Heaven." He laughed weakly. "Better than sex. Better than... better than everything."

"No, no. Don't say that. Please don't say that," pleaded Harry.

"But it's true, my love. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's so sweet. Can't you feel it, Harry? Don't you see how beautiful it is? Mm," he hummed. Shutting his eyes, a smile more genuine than any other since he had been bonded to the other boy graced his angular face. "Mm. If I could die like this..." he trailed off, laying his head against Harry's chest. "All I ever wanted was just to die. Why is that so much to ask for? Everyone else gets to do it so why can't I?" he half-sobbed.

"Because I can't," Harry sobbed back. "And I hate it, too."

"But you shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"If you ever use this against me, I promise I'll do everything in my power to make your life a living hell," Draco started, nuzzling closer to Harry's warmth. "Not that I haven't already. You're the Saviour, you know. You can give them what they want and what they need. You've got worth. They value you. You should be grateful."

"Chance," Harry muttered. "Dumb fucking luck. And it's all been bad. I'd give it all, Draco, just to have a chance to be nothing. God, you don't have any idea what I'd give to make it all go away."

Laughing humourlessly, Draco curled his fingers around Harry's robe, attaching himself quite completely. "You want to be nothing and I want to be anything. We make a hell of a pair, you know?"

"Comedy and tragedy," Harry sighed.

"Who's comedy?"

"All right, irony and tragedy."

"That's more like it. So, can I be irony?"

"I'm tired of being tragedy.&q

"Me too," Draco whined.

"Can we both be irony?"

"You mean we're not?"

"Well, someone's gotta be tragedy."

"I vote we make... hmm... Finnegan. He'd make a nice tragedy."

"When Hell freezes over."

"And all the little demons go ice skating."

"Do they play hockey, too?"

"Play what?"

"Muggle sport. Mostly American, too."

"Definitely sounds like a game they'd play in hell."

Harry laughed softly and shifted so that he could lean against the wall but didn't let Draco go for a moment. He ran his fingers through Draco's soft, blonde hair, massaging his scalp while he held him with his other arm. Quiet purrs came from Draco's throat as he relaxed fully into the other boy's embrace, making Harry smile to himself despite the fact that Draco's head was laying on one of the deeper gashes. He laid his head against that of the other boy and sighed heavily, hugging him tighter still. The idea that pain was the only thing that kept Draco from hurting scared Harry. It hurt him, even. And that scared him worst of all.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he whispered after a considerable period of silence.

Without waiting for a reply, he laid Draco down and, after ng hng his fingers from his robe, went to the bathroom. He filled a pitcher with warm water and grabbed a clean washcloth from the stack on the shelf beside the bathtub. He would worry about his own wounds later; he wanted to get Draco cleaned up and into bed before too much time had passed. After a quick stop at his dresser to pick up a QuickHeal ointment for minor cuts and scrapes, he continued on to Draco's bed. He pulled the curtain back just enough to allow him to see as he set the pitcher on the night stand.

"This is probably going to sting a little," he told Draco as he wetted the cloth and wrung it out.

"Good," he replied almost inaudibly.

"I'm not going to give you a lecture," he whispered, dabbing gently at Draco's chest. There was not as much blood as he had thought as the wounds were not very deep. There were at least a hundred small gashes on his chest and stomach and each bled just enough to give him a light sheen. "I understand. But next time, please let me know what's going on, all right? You scared me pretty fucking bad."

"No, I didn't," he protested weakly. Goose bumps covered his body as it became aware of the cold air hitting his dampened skin.

"Yes. You did," Harry insisted as he rinsed the cloth and wrung it out again. "I don't like coming in and finding you covered in blood with a smile on your face."

"Sorry 'bout that," he replied, laughing lightly. "I didn't want to hurt you, believe it or not. I just wanted to hurt myself, but... it kind of comes with the territory."

"What's really going on today, Draco?" he asked very gently without looking up at his companion's face.

"Gotta put my mum to rest, Harry. She'd want me to. I owe her that much at least." A few tears leaked from his eyes, which Harry promptly wiped away.

"Don't cry. It's okay," he assured the smaller boy. He laced the fingers of his left hand with those of Draco's right and began cleaning his arm. "We'll do whatever you want to do later, okay? And I'm sure-"

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" interrupted Draco.

"No."

"Promise me."

"I promise I won't say a word about this to anyone," he assured the smaller boy.

"Because I know I'm pretty weak and fucked up, you know, but I just don't want everyone else to know that, too."

"You're not weak, you're no more fucked up than anyone else, and no one will ever know about this. I promise," Harry assured him, switching arms and rinsing his cloth. "But I'll be totally honest with you, Draco. I've got a hell of a problem with this whole self-depreciation thing of yours. It's getting old."

"Fuck you," he sobbed weakly.

"Fuck you, too," Harry said without hesitation or any real malice.

"You don't know what it's like."

"Mm," he hummed, keeping his snide remark to himself. "I'm not getting into this one again."

"Then why'd you start it?"

"Because I want you to stop, Draco. Not for me or anyone else, either."

"Then who for?"

"You. Just you."

"How touching, love," he laughed bitterly. "I'm flattered that you think I should think so highly of myself, but I don't think I believe you."

"And why not?" he demanded, moving on to Draco's stomach.

"Because who the hell are you anyway? It's not like you even like me. You know you never once have asked me to help you with your homework? Or just to study with you? Or eat or do anything at all with you? Who do you think you're trying to fool? You put up with me because you have to," he sighed in resignation. "But I don't blame you. Fuck. I know how bad I want to get away from myself, so I can imagine how you feel."

"Draco-"

"Don't. Please just don't. I don't want another 'I do so not hate you' talk. You do and I'm tired of listening to your half-assed lies. But I'm telling you it's okay, so let it go already."

"Draco, I- don't you dare try to fucking interrupt me," he said when Draco's mouth opened to protest. "I'm just as much of an asshole as you are. And don't make it out like you hate me any less."

"I don't hate you."

"Mm."

"I don't."

"Mm," he hummed again, popping the lid off the jar of ointment.

"Really."

"I'm sure."

"I'm serious, Har- OW!" he shouted when Harry's fingers connected with one of the deeper cuts on his chest. "That fucking hurts!"

"I told you it would," Harry replied, wincing himself.

"Sorry," Draco muttered rather sheepishly. "Thanks for fixing&quo"

"Yeah, well... You'd do the same for me right?" he asked, half skeptical and half hopeful.

"In a fucking heartbeat," he breathed. The sensation of the broken skin fusing together again made him deliriously happy. "God, that feels fucking wonderful." He groaned and Harry coughed. "What?"

"What what?"

"What was that?"

"What was what? OW!" he cried when Draco jabbed a finger into a gash in his own chest and drew more blood.

"Serves you right."

"For what?"

"Lying to me."

"You are the most impossible person I have ever met in my entire life, and believe me, that's saying a lot," he laughed as he continued rubbing the cream into Draco's skin.

"Improbable. Not impossible."

"You mean there is hope for you?" he joked as he stood.

"Hope, no. Potential, maybe," he replied as he watched Harry dump the bloody water down the sink and throw the rag in the rubbish bin.

Harry stopped at his dresser on his way back to the bed and pulled out one of the huge shirts Dudley had left him. It was the same grey one he would have worn if he had gone to Stonewall High instead of being a wizard and bo to to Draco Malfoy. "I know it's sodding huge, but it's comfortable," he explained as he began dressing his companion.

"You'd make a great mother," Draco laughed, hugging the shirt close and breathing in deeply. "It even smells like you," he sighed so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear. Almost.

He sat down beside his companion once again, laying a hand on his head. "You're gonna be okay?" he whispered as he pet his hair back.

Nodding slightly, Draco closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. "Thanks." Harry stood up and Draco's eyes flew open. "Where are you going?" he said, sounding very panicked.

"Get you something clean," he replied, pulling a pair of white, flannel trousers from the same drawer he'd gotten the shirt from. They were also Dudley's rejected clothes but they would work, he decided as he once again sat down, even if Draco's tiny body got lost in them. "Don't worry, I promise I won't look," he said as he tugged at Draco's sopping trousers. The boy reluctantly agreed and let Harry pull the gauzy material from his body. Without incidence, he finally got Draco dressed and tucked into bed. He was about to close the curtains and clean himself up when Draco said:

"Don't go." Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I don't wanna be alone right now," he finished quickly.

"I don't understand you at all sometimes," Harry sighed as he laid down beside the other boy. He set his glasses on the night stand and rolled so he could face his companion, who was staring owlishly at him.

"I don't ever understand you at all," he said, lacing Harry's fingers with his own. At the same moment, they both pressed their foreheads together and sighed simultaneously, after which they both laughed. "Maybe I do."

"And I don't hate you," Harry said as he closed his eyes.

"Liar."

"Prove it."

"You prove it," challenged the small blonde. Immediately, he regretted saying it and tried his best not to react and give Harry the 'wrong' impression.

"Oh, I will," Harry assured him, tactfully ignoring Draco's sudden embarrassment. "Never you worry."

After that, the boys fell silent, enjoying the close proximity to the other and the safety of the bed. They relaxed together and promptly began drifting in and out of consciousness. They were unconscious when the door opened just after their first class of the day, Potions, was to begin. Severus Snape silently entered the room. When they had been absent from both breakfast and his class, he became concerned and decided to find out what the problem was. He peered around for signs of life and when he saw none immediately, he began worrying that the boys had opted to ditch class and go somewhere they shouldn't -like outside the Hogwarts grounds, for example. Before he let himself get carried away with unlikely scenarios, he walked around to check the beds. Harry's was empty and he almost didn't check Draco's, but the curtain was slightly open at the head of the bed. Treading silently, Severus pulled the curtain open just a little more and gasped silently at the sight that greeted him.

Of all the things he'd never expected to see in his life, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in bed together, holding hands was at the top of the list. True, y way was lying on top of the blankets and Draco was underneath them. Both were dressed, Harry in his school robe and Draco in what looked like a small tent, but they were still in the same bed and their hands were undeniably linked. They both wore very peaceful expressions on their faces, which were still joined at the forehead. Their chests rose and fell in perfect synchronicity, the rhythm of sleep having taken them over.

Dropping the curtain, Severus slowly backed away from the bed. Irrational thoughts ran rampant through his head. He felt very dirty, suddenly; like he had just witnessed something no mortal should ever see. Walking on hallowed ground, almost. He thought he would be struck by lightning as soon as he exited the room; payment for his sacrilege, in a sense. He felt as though he was in a church and he had desecrated it by being the heretic that he was; by watching the angels sleep like no other human ever could. He slipped silently from the room, almost surprised when no lightning struck him down.

As he made his way from the seventh floor to the subterranean dungeons, Severus thought very deeply about the sight he'd just seen. The image of the boys' sparsely linked bodies was burned into his retina. He knew he would never forget it. It was nothing extraordinary, at least, not at a first glance. But when one took into consideration just who those boys were... everything changed. What it meant, Severus didn't know, nor did he care to speculate. He doubted that even they knew the implications of their own intimacy, superficial as it may have seemed.

'Well,' he reminded himself, 'they should get over it by this afternoon. They'll be terrorising each other before the day is out.' The thought gave him no pleasure. In fact, it almost disappointed him. No, not almost. It did.