Unlikely Beginnings

The fire was crackling in the background, heating the room many more degrees than it would normally be without the flames. Lupin almost wished he could put the fire out, but he knew that wouldn't be the best idea. His arms were propped on the surface of his desk on his elbows, and the palms of his hands were pressed against his temples, fingers twining into his damp hair. The front of it fell over his forehead, which was equally wet with sweat, and the occasional bead would trickle its way down the bridge of his nose to drip on to the desk. He'd cleared his books away, leaving only the wooden surface and a goblet of water to his side.

The handkerchief was laid beside the goblet as well, still having the blood soaked into the fabric from his earlier attempts, and fresh stains from only moments ago. He was in pain, and at the apex of the process he was so dreadfully becoming familiar with. Remus' breath came as a heavy, drawn out pant, and the few times a new spike of pain would strike him, a sharp gasp was his reply. He didn't know how many times he could do this; in the morning if he wasn't successful tonight, then tomorrow afternoon, and tomorrow night. He was becoming weary, and almost wished for the bone twisting misery and ache the Change afflicted on him every full moon.

Lupin bared his teeth, gritting them tight together as another white hot needle felt like it was being poked into the skin under his fingers when he brought them down to press against his temples. If anyone was there to witness his actions, they'd be extremely frightened. When Remus pried his eyes open, he caught the distorted reflection of himself in the mirror that hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. The image was blurred, his eyes watering from the pain. He couldn't cry out, as he'd not sound proofed his office, and wouldn't chance having a student walking by want to know what was going on. There was also the fact that if he did yell, it would sound rather on the vicious side.

Squeezing his eyes shut again, Lupin pressed through the pain, trying to force his thoughts to Severus' mind once again. He'd been there for two and a quarter hours, and he'd let his mind stray at several points; there wasn't much allowance for other thoughts to run through one's mind as they were trying to accomplish this particular feat. It was due to odd word associations that his mind wandered. Repeating the same thing over and over again tended to trigger thoughts outside of what he was concentrating on, and he, they all, couldn't afford to waste any more time.

With the few interruptions his brain had insisted on making exceptions for, even in his determined state, Remus had maintained a constant stream of projection as he repeated the relayed message again and again. He felt another, heavier flow of liquid down his face, and recognized it as blood. His nose had started bleeding again from the pressure he was exerting inside his head, and he itched to wipe it away and give up for the night, rest from the pain he'd caused himself; he couldn't let Harry down.

Suddenly, he felt a brief, sharp snap in his brain, and he quickly projected the message he'd prepared, as strongly as he could, 'Snape, Harry and Draco have followed you to Durmstrang. Lupin.' He had wondered earlier if speaking it out loud would help the connection, or make it worse. One would suppose it would lessen the meaning of telepathic speech, so he'd not bothered to attempt it, as well as for the fact he sounded ridiculous reciting a message to someone who wasn't even in the room. Remus was unable to repress the sigh that escaped his lips as the tension was broken, immediately relaxing the more tense parts of his anatomy.

He opened his eyes, still repeating the message in his mind, and his forehead creased into an expression of pure agony as he searched for a way to hold onto the abruptly loosening connection he'd established. There was no way for him to maintain the mental contact, and he reluctantly relaxed, letting go of the thread, allowing it to disappear. There was nothing else he could do for the moment, and just as the snap had signaled the bond, it did the same in reverse, leaving him, fading, and his vision followed suit.

Lupin gasped at the darkness that over took his eyes before he slid his arms down to cross over each other, collapsing over the desk. He tried to stay awake, but it was a losing battle at the moment, and he lowered his head onto his arms as slowly and gently as he could as consciousness slipped away from him. The last thought that ran through his head was vague hopes that Snape had received the message, that it wasn't simply a delusion from the pain, and the final coherence of thought was, 'please, let him be all right.' Sweat soaked strips of hair that were becoming a bit too shaggy fell over his eyes, and his breathing slowed as Lupin fell into a deep sleep.

@>*~

It was cold in the castle, much more so than the dungeons at Hogwarts. Snape had been staring at the fire in the room that had been allocated to him, and that was about the only thought that he'd allowed himself to think about. If for nothing else, this 'trip' would provide him with time to simply forget about everything so he could sit in his room and brood about nothing in particular. To be honest, he hated it here, but he had to come. If he hadn't, it would have looked suspicious; he wasn't one of the best spies Dumbledore had for no good reason at all, you know. He did his job well, and prided himself on it.

There were just the times, like this, that he felt like stomping his foot down and crossing his arms, and point blank refusing to cooperate. Severus looked down into the cup he held in his hands, half full of fire whiskey. It was one thing to show up drunk, it was another to get drunk while waiting and having nothing else to do while waiting for the Dark Lord. Impeccable timing, that one, Snape thought to himself, lifting the cup to his lips. Just as he'd swallowed a mouthful of the liquor, Snape turned suddenly in his chair, looking to the door. He frowned, cocking his head slightly to listen.

He could have sworn he heard voices outside. It was silent for another moment, and he didn't hear anything more. He was just about to turn back to the fire when he heard it again. The voice was familiar, but it could have been any number of old acquaintances that now swarmed the ranks of the Death Eaters. 'Snape,' it said, and he frowned again. There was no doubt in his mind that he was imaging the voice, and he could just ignore someone at the door, calling him to come out to some meeting or another, but... that wasn't it.

It didn't feel right. It was almost as if someone - Snape - was in his mind. The expression slipped from his face as he turned slowly towards the fire, careful not to make much noise, and he closed his eyes. Allowing his mind to truly focus entirely on nothing, he listened. Harry, he heard, then, in his mind. What about Harry? It could simply be his subconscious thinking extremely loud at a bad time for him to pick up little words, but that theory didn't seem right either. No, there was something prickling at his senses, and it wasn't any part of himself. Draco; again, that could be anything, from old Potions class memories to recent, disgusting revelations.

Followed. At that, Snape opened his eyes, and almost felt the subtle connection that had been beginning, almost begging, to form in his mind, break. He willed it to stay put, keeping his mind open. Durmstrang - Lupin, and the last word was almost a whisper before Snape came to full alert. "Lupin," he repeated, testing the name. It didn't fit in his thoughts, and he frowned deeply, taking another drink from his cup. There was no reason his mind would pop up a thought of Remus Lupin out of no where, but - wait. Followed?

Sitting forward in the chair, Snape began to put the words together. Harry and Draco... followed... Oh, dear Merlin, those imbeciles, Severus thought. Had the boys followed him to Durmstrang? It could be entirely possibly, and he'd never know until it was too late, and Voldemort would have caught the boy. Harry's life would be on his head, and he would never be able to live with it. They wouldn't be able to catch up with him so quickly, though. Lupin must have been trying to contact him telepathically, though it was clear the werewolf was inexperienced. He wasn't great himself, but he had to give Lupin credit for forcing that much through.

Snape would have sympathized with the pain he knew Remus must be feeling right now, but he had more important matters at hand now. As much as he disliked the boy, and his dearly departed father, Snape could never kill someone who didn't deserve it. Damnit, Lupin! Severus brought a hand to his face, covering it for a moment. Lupin had to tell him somehow, and Snape had to admit that he'd picked the least likely way to be detected. Though, if Voldemort sensed unease within him, he'd automatically search Snape's mind for wary thoughts; and he'd run straight into a mental image of Harry being tortured.

Well, he supposed that wouldn't exactly put the Dark Lord off; maybe alight with pride at Severus for being so creative. But he would go deeper, not trusting anyone, not even his presumed faithful servants. Snape drained the last of the whiskey from his cup and decided to wander the halls for a while. He sincerely doubted he'd run into the boys, though he had no idea how they were traveling, but he really didn't think they'd be there yet. He'd Apparated, knowing exactly where to go, but they didn't; even if they left the same night, they'd still be behind. They wouldn't be stupid enough, he hoped, to run around the corridors during the day, if they were indeed coming to the castle.

To begin with, the night time wasn't that much better, but at least a majority of dangers were asleep in the dark. As well as that, no one just waltzed into a castle surrounded by Dark Arts. It was far more undetectable than simply being Unplottable. Someone would have to know how to get inside, but, he supposed dismally, that Draco might remember how to do just that. There was a bit more depth to that relationship than he'd previously thought, though he made it a point not to think about it as he slipped out of his room and into the hall.

@>*~

The room was filled with darkness as far as Draco could see, which wasn't very far, when he woke up. He squinted into the black, blinking his eyes for them to adjust to the very small amount of moonlight filtering through the curtain. It took him a moment to recall where he was, and was about to sit up abruptly, but a body next to him shifted closer, brushing warm, smooth skin against his own. Draco relaxed at that, memory flooding back to him; he was in the Leaky Cauldron, with Harry.

He'd planned to get out of bed when he woke up, and get on with this ludicrous plan. Nothing seemed to be going correctly, when he became instantly aware that Harry had turned over, and was touching him. It felt good, surprisingly, and Draco remembered the softer touches they'd shared once before... but, oh, god. They didn't do anything, did they? They'd both voluntarily got into the bed together, and he didn't remember doing anything with the other boy, which was good.

It was bad enough to have done what he had, but to be guilty of it perhaps a second time was going completely too far. At those thoughts slithering into his mind, Draco reaffirmed that they hadn't done anything. He would have remembered it, unless Harry drugged him, or something, or he was blanking out and doing things he wasn't aware of. Like having mushy, lovey sex with Harry Potter. Well, it would be better than half raping him against a locker, he thought darkly, and promptly felt like he needed a kick in the groin for that.

How could he ever expect Harry to forgive his vile behavior; and he couldn't even believe he'd actually done it. Self-pity and regret were swept away when Draco felt an arm snake across his stomach, coming to lie over his waist just where his trousers came up to. Okay, this just got uncomfortable. Draco desperately wanted to move, but he couldn't. It felt... nice, having Harry near him like this, even if it did leave him feeling out of his usual depths. He looked over, the dark room in clearer focus than it had been when he first opened his eyes, and could now see the plane of Harry's back.

It almost glowed with the few scattered rays of moonlight it picked up, splaying them across his skin. Draco's eyes trailed up from Harry's back, over his arm, and he saw how muscular it was, which really shouldn't have surprised him. Even knowing Harry as being an active Quidditch player, he'd never imagined that the thin boy would have such muscle structure under his robes, and it definitely looked good, too. He'd woken up half hard, which normally wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest, but looking at the boy passively draped over him didn't help matters. It certainly didn't help by taking a deep breath, which only served to move Harry's arm down further, lower on his crotch to brush against his cock through his pants.

He tensed his stomach involuntarily after that, and that only repeated the touch backwards, and he really knew he should stop. Guilt was not something he needed an extra helping of right now, at least not any more than he deserved, but when he felt fingers gently stroking his side, he held his breath. Harry was awake. The random swirls of Harry's fingers over his bare skin were burning into him, warming the skin under the digits. Trying to ignore it wouldn't do any good if his cock persisted in becoming any harder, and all Draco could do was to lie there.

Harry knew he'd clued Draco in by the slight movement of his fingertips that he was awake, but now he couldn't stop. He wasn't even sure if Draco wanted to do anything at all, if he was ready for it, or what. That thought struck him as a bit ironic, seeing as the damage was inflicted the other way around on the scale for who would be ready for another sexual experience sooner than the other. Harry didn't even know if Draco knew where this would go if he continued, though he was pretty sure the blond wasn't that oblivious.

If the hard evidence he could feel pressing against his arm was any indication, Harry was pretty sure Draco knew what was going on. Now, the question was, what should he do? Should he move at all, or pretend he was still asleep and innocently roll over, avoiding a potentially hurtful situation? Draco's arm was under all of the pillows, so technically Harry wasn't lying on it, but then he sort of was, since he was effectively pinning it down. Draco couldn't move it unless he wanted Harry's head to fall about three inches, and that would definitely wake him up, if he hadn't already been awake.

Not directly resting his head on any part of Draco's body, it still felt a bit odd for Harry to be found with his head, although with a pillow in between, over the other boy's appendage. Draco wanted to move his arm, but he knew that would definitely provoke some speech between the two of them, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with Harry waking up right now, in a bed with him, no less, regardless of how it would look to a third party right now. Harry wasn't even that close, maybe a little less than a foot away, so it wasn't that big of a deal, right?

Draco had his eyes open, and could feel his arm was trapped while he stared at the ceiling. He knew, beyond a doubt, that Harry was awake, and there was something building between them. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but that simply could have been his own apprehension at what had a chance to happen between them if Harry continued. Harry knew it, too; he could feel it just as well as Draco could, but he knew what it was better than the other boy. Deciding for the both of them, since Harry simply didn't want to get up yet, he shifted until his body was pressed up against Draco's.

"Harry?" Draco asked, finally finding his brain and ordering it to say something that wasn't rude, or lewd, for that matter. Harry didn't say anything for a moment, just kept running his fingers over the side of Draco's body, twining his fingers in an intricate pattern until they brought him up to the button of Draco's trousers.

"What?" Harry asked back, and Draco was about to repeat that word, though preferably with a full question behind it. All he got out was half of the word, before the words faded on his tongue as he either forgot, or simply didn't care anymore what he was going to say. He felt the slight dip of Harry's fingers under the waistband of his trousers, barely realizing that Harry had undone the button, and had already drawn the zipper half way down.

"Uhm," he mumbled, which was pretty damn smart compared to anything else going through his mind at the moment. Meanwhile, he didn't even have a chance to think anything else, no matter how simple it would have been, Harry had pulled the zipper the rest of the way down, and now ran his fingertips along Draco's cock. Draco's heartbeat sped up when he felt the tentative touches, and, his cock, which had apparently decided to call the shots now, twitched in response.

Harry pressed closer to Draco, resting his head on Draco's shoulder, pressing his own hard cock against the other boy's hip. He rocked his hips and Harry could feel his body starting to get hotter, and he cupped his hand over Draco's cock and squeezed gently. "Mmm," Draco let out as a moan, and turned to look at Harry; even though it was still dark, he could still see the other boy in the dim light coming through the thin curtains, which had increased slightly since he'd last had his eyes open. "Are you.. okay?" he asked, hoping Harry would know what he was talking about. He really meant the baby, if there even was one, and Harry wasn't just taking the piss.

"Mmm hmm." Harry hummed agreement against Draco's chest, and Draco felt his cock twitch again. He pushed up against Harry, who chose that moment to slip his hand through the opened hole he had created, having undone the small button holding the split in Draco's boxers closed. As soon as Harry closed his hand around the blond's cock, Draco felt instant heat wrap around him, and it made such wonderful feelings pull at his nerve endings. He realized at that moment that Harry had never touched his cock before now, but that thought only made it that much better.

Harry started stroking Draco's cock with firm, even strokes, running his thumb along the slit on every movement upwards, making Draco draw in a sharp breath. Draco couldn't help but lift his hips in response to Harry's ministrations, occasionally rolling his hips. He almost sat up when Harry took his hand off his rock-hard cock, but he still couldn't because of his arm under the pillows. He tilted his head down to look at the other boy, but Harry wasn't looking at him, he was focused on his cock. All Draco saw was Harry lick a wide strip of saliva onto his palm, and bring it back to the Slytherin's erection.

It didn't take long after seeing that, and feeling the warm wetness around his cock before Draco came with a low gasp. His stomach muscles jerked as Harry coaxed out one of the best orgasms he'd ever had, and then Draco let out the breath he'd held, which relaxed his body, settling into a sated, slightly sweaty slump against the bed while the high from the pleasure ebbed. His breath caught in his throat as he inhaled, smelling the sweat and his come, which he could feel wet on his stomach.

Looking down, Draco could make out a gob of his secretion sticking from his cock and stringing over to Harry's hand as he pulled it away. It wasn't a huge mess, and Draco reached down to grab the sheet with his free hand, to wipe the come off of his belly. Harry leaned over, effectively giving Draco a chance to free his other arm, and absently wiped his hand off on the bedding behind him. He really didn't expect Draco to do anything but stay exactly where he was, but he was pleasantly surprised.

Draco had spared a moment to tuck himself away before he moved on impulse, sitting up under the covers and situating himself between Harry's legs. A brief brush of cool air swept in when Draco lifted the blanket to move, and placed it so it didn't cover his head. Harry didn't mind the air, since he'd been quite hot himself while touching Draco. Draco's hands were cool on his body, and it made the rest of him feel white hot. Draco leaned forward to lick at a nipple briefly before trailing his hands down Harry's chest to unbutton his trousers. Harry didn't quite know what to make of this, since Draco had barely ever done anything for, or to him before.

He wasn't going to complain that it wasn't nice, or that he didn't think it would feel good, because he would have said the opposite of all those things. The blond left small, light kisses down his chest and stomach, though almost light enough not to even be considered kisses to begin with. His hands followed the path his lips had blazed, and there was barely a second to wait for Draco to undo the button and continue on. Harry wasn't sure how this could be completely all right between them, since barely any words had been spoken.

Draco tugged the open trousers down just far enough to expose Harry's cock, pausing a moment to actually look at the other boy. He'd only ever been facing Harry in this position for a very brief span of time, and hadn't taken the time to simply look. Draco almost regretted that his priority in their previous excursions had been to bury his own erection in the dark-haired boy's body, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. What he could think of in relation to those thoughts was of the pleasure those memories reminded him of, and it prompted him to stick the tip of his tongue out, lightly running it over the head of the cock in front of him.

Harry let out a whimper at the small swipe of wet tongue, feeling a shiver of anticipation run through his body at the new sensation. No one had ever touched him there before, not with their hands, much less their mouth, and it was better than he ever imagined. If he had to make the choice whether or not to have that afternoon after Care of Magical Creatures on the lawn with Draco, he'd definitely do it again. Draco licked up the entire length before slipping Harry's cock into his mouth. Harry immediately lifted his hips at the feeling, almost amazed that Draco would do this for him.

Draco moaned around Harry's cock, only producing a low hum as he took a moment to taste Harry, licking a drip of precum from the head. He'd sucked cock before, but it had never really been for himself, and he hadn't much enjoyed it. This felt different, and it made him want to put more effort into it. Growing bolder, Draco pulled his mouth away, still holding the erection in his hand, and gave it a few more strokes before he turned his tongue's attention on the head.

Harry was hit with another moment of realization, making him wonder how far he really thought this relationship was going to go. If someone had told him on the first day of school that he'd be having sex with Draco Malfoy, he would have said they were crazy. They really needed to talk, Harry decided; but that would have to wait. Harry lifted his hips, unconsciously seeking more of the wet heat of Draco's mouth as the blond swirled his tongue along the swollen head. Draco pulled his head away at the sudden movement, and loosened his grip on Harry's cock, and Harry thought he might have done something wrong.

Harry cried out in shocked surprise when Draco leaned forward once again, swallowing Harry's cock almost down to the base in one go. Unexpectedly, Draco's gag reflex kicked in at the next sudden thrust into the back of his throat when Harry thrust his hips up hard. Quickly, Draco moved his hands from the bed on either side of the other boy, and held them down on Harry's hips to keep Harry from choking him. Assured of his safety, Draco slowly began sliding his head up and down the length while Harry keened out in pleasure on each stroke down, when his cock would be completely engulfed in Draco's mouth.

Harry forced himself to peel his eyes open, as they were trying to roll back in his head at the sensations running through his body. He wanted to watch this: Draco's mouth wrapped around his cock. Most of his earlier thoughts had been pushed to the side, but he was still surprised that this was happening, considering after everything that they'd done with each other, or to each other. Harry couldn't even bring himself to be angry at Draco anymore, even if he knew Draco deserved some sort of punishment. It didn't quite seem right to have sex so soon, but he couldn't help it.

Especially now, when Harry watched as Draco's mouth stretched wide over his erection, thin sheets of excess saliva sliding down the side to pool around his balls. He could even see a little of Draco's tongue every time the other boy paused to lap around the head. He couldn't bring himself to look away from the blond's lips, and finally he couldn't take any more, and whispered a hoarse warning to the other boy. Draco either didn't hear or chose to ignore him as he continued sucking. "Oh, god," Harry moaned as he came hard into Draco's mouth, watching as the blond pulled back to be able to easily swallow what he was being willingly given.

It was the willingness of Harry's acceptance to forgive him that made Draco feel that this had been alright. He'd rarely had anything to feel guilty about in his life, except for a few times he'd hurt his mother's feelings by doing something for his father that he knew she hadn't condoned. Draco pulled away completely when Harry was finished, and he swallowed one last time before he snaked out his tongue to lick over his bottom lip. Harry had followed Draco's mouth, not tearing his eyes away, and he started to feel his skin cooling. Draco's lips curved into a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, like he was only doing it because he found an odd bit of amusement in something he saw right then.

Harry looked back at Draco, into the grey eyes, before he swallowed and started to calm his breathing. Draco shifted and Harry lazily watched as the other boy gently pulled his underwear and trousers back onto his hips before Draco lay back down beside Harry. Neither of them felt the need to move immediately, except for a mutual effort to tug the blanket back up over them, then retreating into their own little worlds. Harry lay there, still on his back, and he could feel Draco's light breathing puffing against his shoulder as he played out the images of recent events that had transpired between the two of them.

The one thing that kept coming back to him was the question of whether they were even friends or not, Draco thought as he stared blankly at Harry's shoulder. He sighed, trying to forget about the problems they would face in the next few days, and he hoped they wouldn't die. Even with Harry's obscene ability to escape fatal situations with only a few physical scratches, Draco didn't know what was going to happen. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that they were walking straight into enemy territory, but who was really the enemy for him now? There was a time when he would have gladly led the boy now lying beside him to his death, but he didn't think he could do it now.

Harry was barely drawn out of his thoughts when he felt the bed dip and he turned his head to watch as Draco stood up and walked over to where he'd dropped his shirt. Draco didn't think he could lie around and ponder his allegiance right now; it was a much too stressing issue at the moment. He knew that was something Harry could never forgive him for, but all he could do was hope that things would turn out alright. There weren't many reasons why Snape would be summoned to Durmstrang, and he was dreading the revelation to the other boy that this could turn very bad, very fast.

Draco picked up Harry's shirt from beside his own and tossed it to the other boy now sitting up on the bed without really looking. He shrugged back into his shirt, followed by his socks and then his boots. Draco walked to the chair he'd been in earlier that day, before they went to Gringotts, and sat down to tie his boots. Harry had his shirt on by the time he turned around and glanced up through the hair that had fallen over his eyes. Usually he'd keep it back, but he wasn't in the mood to have his hair stuck to his head. It felt much better to be able to run his hands through it, and maybe Harry would think so, too.

Even though Harry still had his socks on, his feet were a bit chilled and he stuffed them back under the covers as he watched the other boy. He knew they had to get going, and, to be honest, he was a bit confused as to what the next step was. He'd taken a wild stab in the dark, though admittedly it wasn't that wild considering Draco's family, and went into the dungeons the other night, hoping the other boy would help him on his way. Harry didn't quite know what to say in regards to that helping hand, but he decided to save that for later, as well.

Harry sat crossed-legged, legs and feet under the warm cover, and asked, "So?" Draco finished tying the last bow on his boots and looked up to the other boy at the prompting question. Harry looked back, waiting for an answer to his vague confusion. He had no idea what he'd do right now if Draco hadn't have been with him; probably passed out in a forest somewhere.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Draco asked, not quite able to stop the slightly superior look that came to his features. He didn't feel any emotion behind the raised lip and appraising eye, but habits were hard to break.

"Er... no," Harry replied, feeling stupid that he had dragged Draco with him and didn't even know exactly where they were headed, but he supposed that was the point in asking him to come along to begin with. "North?" he offered. He looked down at the floor, not seeing Draco shake his head slightly, though he heard the resigned sigh the blond breathed out.

Draco wasn't angry with Harry, just frustrated that he could be so utterly stupid at times. "Do you know where Siberia is, Harry?" he asked conversationally. He lifted his head back up to see the other boy shake his head in the negative. Draco leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands for a moment. He, they, didn't have the time to sit and explain why planning would be a valuable asset in future reference before one scampered along into unfamiliar territory. If they were going to make it to Durmstrang before Snape left, they'd have to get a move on.

They didn't even know how long the Potions master was even going to be there, and with Draco's luck, this would be the day that Voldemort started a goddamn war and they'd never see Snape again. They had to be quick on their journey, and that left Draco in charge from now on. He refrained from pulling his hair out in frustrated anger, reminding himself that he'd look much better with the blond than discovering an oddly shaped head if he pulled it all out.

Another part of his mind reminded him that no one said he had to follow Harry anywhere; he had gone of his own accord, and could just as easily back out of it. The only thing was, if they didn't continue now, and, say, headed back to Hogwarts instead, there was no telling if Harry would flip-flop in his thinking again, and demand to go on, with or without him. In the end, it would be all the more a better experience for both of them if they went together rather than alone.

Standing from his seat on the chair near the fireplace, in which the fire had burned itself out during the time they slept, and now was full of dark grey ashes. They had a long way to go, and they needed to hurry. Again, if they were on their way for a purpose, they might as well get it over with. They left the room, making sure they had everything back into their bags, and set off on their way through Diagon Alley and into Muggle London.

@>*~

As the bell rang to signal the end of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Ron and Hermione closed their books more slowly than the rest of the class. They had been the first to arrive in the classroom, but only by a few seconds, leaving them no time to speak privately to the professor until after class. They watched the last of the seventh years walk out the door, heading to the Great Hall for lunch. Setting a large and heavy looking book down onto his desk, Remus stepped down from the raised area his desk sat on and came to stand in front of the two teens.

"You wanted to talk to us, sir?" Hermione asked, tying her bag closed after shoving the last book inside as the teacher walked towards them. In the brief moment they had to talk before class began, he had asked for them to stay if it wasn't an inconvenience.

"Yes," Lupin nodded, clasping his hands to stop from fidgeting. "I spoke with the Headmaster this morning; he said to continue answering students that Harry and Draco are doing errands for him." The two looked at him, slightly confused. They'd been expecting a better answer than that, but that was all he had for them. "I know," he started, "it's the same thing I told you to do, but it's the best excuse there was at the time. Also, if anyone isn't satisfied with your explanation, you can direct them to the Headmaster."

"Sir," Ron started, drawing the concerned teacher's eyes from Hermione to himself. "Do you think we should talk to Professor Dumbledore, too? I mean," he paused to look at Hermione, unsure if he was blundering himself into a pointless question, but she gave no indication for him to stop, "we have so little information, but even the bit we have, we haven't been able to talk to anyone." Lupin nodded, listening to the boy, and Ron began to tick names off on his fingers. "Snape's gone, though he'd be the last choice we'd pick for help; McGonagall is always so busy, and she's second best to telling Dumbledore, but, frankly, I trust you more than I do her, and we've already told you; and Dumbledore is ignoring everyone!"

Hermione caught the faintly affronted look on Lupin's face at Ron's rise in tone and volume, and she stepped in. "We're just so worried about him, sir," she said to him, and the look softened on his face as his own worry showed through. Hermione looked to Ron, who looked more upset than worried, but knowing with him there was a fine line between them; right now he was actually on both sides of it.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Lupin said, shaking his head, "but I have my instructions. I've scheduled another time to meet with the Headmaster, but I'm afraid I won't know much until then. I think he may know just about everything that we all do, but he's been awfully busy with his work lately." He caught an almost identical look flit over both of the students' faces, and couldn't help but think they were hiding something. It wasn't hard to think of all the reasons why the two boys in particular had chosen to make such a journey. "All I can do is promise to keep you informed," he said, placing a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione looked up at him then, barely feeling the light squeeze he gave with his hand. He smiled when she looked at him, "Don't worry; I'm sure he's fine." She wasn't precisely thinking of Harry at that moment, rather, wondering about the man standing to her side. "If what you told me about him and Draco is true, I'm confident he won't let anything happen to Harry," said Lupin as he withdrew his hand, replacing it with his other and twining his fingers together again. "If something were to occur by Draco's fault, he'll have me to deal with."

They all smiled when he winked at them, though Hermione didn't quite hear what he'd said. She had followed his hand back to where he'd placed it with it's partner, wondering how it must feel when he Changed. It must have been horrible to always force yourself to keep in check, for fear of hurting someone, whether friend or foe, or even a more intimate partner. Ron knew fully what the professor had been implying, and he smiled at the thought of Draco being mauled and ripped to death by the werewolf, if he ever hurt Harry. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, because, even if it was Malfoy, no one really deserved that.

Hermione made to stand up after a moment, and Ron leaned over to pick up his bag from beside his chair. "You're looking better, Professor," Hermione commented, still on the side track her mind had taken. Remus looked a bit shy at her compliment, and averted his eyes to the floor as he walked behind the students to the door. They supposed they had to be satisfied with Lupin's explanation, so they should get on with their day instead of wasting the teacher's lunch time.

She almost felt horrible for inducing an awkward silence as they walked out of the classroom and into the fourth floor corridor. "I am," Lupin replied, though still not looking at her. He hated to think they saw him like that, even though it would have happened to anyone had they tried what he had, and accomplished it, no less. "I was able to get through to Snape," he continued, trying to draw the subject away from himself, though how he thought to lighten it by mentioning Severus, he had no idea, "at least I hope so. Telepathy is a very strenuous thing, as I said, especially for the inexperienced; I wasn't sure, but I'd say there was a seventy percent chance he received the message."

"I can't believe we have to rely on Snape to look out for Harry," Ron said when they'd made it down the hall a way. He turned around and faced the other two, the sole occupants of the corridor, as everyone else had ventured to the Great Hall or their dormitories to spend the lunch break. "I mean, he hates Harry, we all know that," Ron said, ignoring the chastising look that Hermione sent his way, "but is he really the only help we've got?"

Lupin chuckled briefly, glad to be in a more safe zone in the conversation, and he felt much better talking about something else. He wasn't quite sure why it bothered him, but he hadn't been doing too well recently with some things he was trying to deal with on his own time. "I don't think Professor Snape 'hates' Harry, Ron. I'd say it's more of a strong dislike, though I can tell you there is a begrudging respect between them." Ron snorted at that, and Hermione, who had come to his side, gave him a sharp elbow to the side. He looked apologetically at the teacher before them, but he still wouldn't believe that until the day pigs could fly without the aid of magic.

Lupin excused himself then and returned to his office, while Hermione and Ron started down the hall to the stairs leading down to the main floor. She agreed with Ron, wondering if Snape really was all they had for help that would be useful in this situation. There had been times between Snape and Harry that she had witnessed them being more civil to each other in the past couple years, and she had a strange feeling about that. The urge to investigate this for herself was there, certainly, but she couldn't just drop everything at the moment. NEWTs were getting closer to beginning, and she really needed the time to study.

Ron wouldn't go out by himself, so that left him there in the castle with her. Not that it would be an unpleasant few days with Ron all to herself, and she smiled at that thought, but it was the fact that she didn't know how long it would be before Harry returned. There wasn't much she, or the two of them, could do. Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin were already on it, and Malfoy, it seemed, was doing a great part in keeping him alive just to get him to their ridiculous destination.

She hoped Malfoy was looking out for Harry, but she did have a feeling that she would have to trust the blond. If he came back with Harry, from the clutches of the Dark Lord, then what else could she do? That would be a turning point, and she had no idea how it would go over with anyone else. She wasn't blind, or so Draco may have wanted to think when he'd stare across the Hall at Harry, as if he desperately wanted to speak to him, or at least throw him over the table and have his way with him.

They'd reached the doors to the Great Hall, and she hadn't realized she'd ignored Ron the whole way, but when she looked across to him, he looked deep in his own thoughts, as well. Hermione sighed before she looked at her friend, who soon would be more than that if things went well. Ron grinned back at her and they went into the Hall, once again preparing to answer a few questions.

@>*~

The walk back from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower was just as quiet as the one going to the Hall to begin with. They'd talked through the meal, but it seemed they were still caught up in their own thoughts until about half way through their supper. Hermione had smiled on, though, vaguely paying attention to Ron and Seamus playing with their potatoes. She noticed, the Irish boy had sculpted his into a rather rude figure, looking suspiciously like something she was sure her mother would tell her not to look at. She blushed and looked away when she had thought to herself, That sure looks good. Telling herself that she meant the actual potatoes, the way the gravy had been drizzled over them just so... Really. She wasn't some sex crazed person like certain other members of Gryffindor House.

There were laughs and jokes, and an over all lighter mood in the entire Hall, and barely any questions about Harry, though there had been a bit of a ruckus at the Slytherin table, with several Quidditch players identified by McGonagall, telling them to sit down and behave. Ron had snickered, but Neville looked at her worriedly. When she had finished her meal, Hermione stood from her seat and offered a hand to Ron. "You done?" he asked, but took her hand and stood himself. It was rare for him to be finished eating before her, but she hadn't been solely focused on the food.

Neither of them dropped the other's hand when they began walking down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, and walked down the halls, up the stairs, and down some more halls before they reached the portrait. Ron had noticed the stupid grin Seamus had given him when he and Hermione left, but he'd not followed what the other boy had found amusing. He shook his head and waved, being pulled along by his best friend. Hermione had seen it, too, and that's why she was trying to get them out of there, though she probably should have simply let go of Ron's hand if she didn't want people to gawk.

Hermione gave the new password to the Fat Lady, and she nodded, swinging the door open to admit them inside the common room. There were a few older students in the room, some they knew well and some they didn't. Ginny was near the fire with a book, and Ron could have sworn he heard her mutter, 'about bloody time,' when she grinned and watched them cross the room to their usual table. A few more sixth years were playing chess on the floor, and their eyes followed the two of them, as well. Hermione's first thought was that the boys were looking up her skirt, but they were smiling and nodding at Ron, who only looked confused before being plopped down on his side of the table.

Ron frowned at her, then followed her lead and began to unload school books from his bag. First Seamus, then the sixth years and various people they passed in the halls. Did he have something stuck to his face? He felt a bit tingly during the meal, but he'd looked at Hermione sitting beside him (very close to him, in fact) and she only smiled. He felt a tight spot in his chest, and reached for his glass of water, hoping he wasn't going to choke on something going down the wrong pipe. He was glad no one had brought up their missing friend, and felt a bit more free to have fun with the other boys.

Arranging her books on the table in front of her, along with her assignments from class, she felt glad to have something to temporarily take her mind off Harry's absence. It was a bit odd to have Ron chattering away; she'd look up for Harry, but only saw the other boys. They were familiar, and she was happy Ron was feeling a bit better about it, but they weren't the same. She hoped she'd never have to get used to not having Harry around. Oh, she didn't think Ron was finding new friends to replace Harry or anything, it just was different. Now, she just tried not to hog all the table space, leaving Ron some room to work on his own assignments.

Ron took out his Transfiguration text and opened it, taking the papers he'd stuck in as a bookmark and laying them in front of him on the table. He stretched his arms over his head, leaning back in the chair, feeling a bit tired. With all the things going on recently, he knew he still couldn't take time to sit back and do nothing, especially if that meant slacking off on his homework. He didn't want to have to think at the moment, so he tried to think of something that wouldn't be too much work, and that got him into the swing of it. After a moment of debate, he decided to write a letter to his parents while he still had the inclination to do anything.

He hadn't owled them for a while, and looking over at the side of Ginny's face he could see from behind the wing of the chair, he had no idea when she had either. By the time he'd gotten near the end of the paper he was writing on, he'd written to them about how his classes were going, telling him he was keeping an eye on his sister, and how his friends were. He'd carefully omitted that Harry had mysteriously run off, though Ron said he was fine, also leaving off that he only hoped so, didn't know so. Then, he'd topped it off with writing about the next match, when it was next week.

He set his quill down on the table and sat back again, looking at the clock on the far wall. Hermione hadn't looked up from her work, and she'd almost written twice as much as he had, which, for him, was a lot for only ten minutes. Now, if only he could do his homework that fast. "Who do you reckon will win the match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" He wondered aloud, though directing his question at the girl across the table from him.

He knew Hermione didn't quite care about Quidditch, but he still felt like asking, if only just to see her eyes go shifty before she thought of an answer that wasn't, 'For christsake, Ron, I don't care!' He smiled when she looked up from her Arithmancy paper; how she could do homework that involved numbers that fast was beyond him. Very diplomatically, though, Hermione put down her quill and folded her hands over top of her work. "I'm not sure. They're both equal teams, what with Hufflepuff's new standing due to their win over Slytherin, but I hear Ravenclaw's been practicing night and day. I'm guessing they feel threatened, and really want to play against Gryffindor."

Ron stared back at her, the smile fading as she actually gave him more than a one-sentence response on Quidditch. She smiled back at him, and knew she'd stumped him. They both knew she didn't really like talking about sports, but she knew Ron loved the game, so she'd tried to make an educated guess. It was hard not to notice the tired Ravenclaw players in the halls, lumbering about in a sleep deprived stupor. Well, that, and she at least understood what Ron was saying on the subject, which helped a great deal. Viktor had a way of making her want to rub her temples every time he opened his mouth, and having him talk about Quidditch incessantly didn't help things at all.

"Speaking of playing Gryffindor," Ron picked up again, "I hope Harry makes it back before we have to play. Can't really have a proper game without our Seeker, can we?" He picked up his quill after he'd said that, needing something to twiddle with. He hadn't really wanted to bring up Harry, since they'd been having a moderately stress free day without exerting so much energy towards worrying about him. He was nervous now, because of the game, and because what if Harry never made it back? They'd lose for sure. They had a reserve Seeker, but the poor bloke hardly had a chance to play, since they wouldn't pull Harry out of a game unless he was bleeding out of every orifice he had, and even then, they'd still probably find a way to keep him in the game.

At the sad look that passed over Hermione's face, Ron changed the subject. "Anyway, how's your knitting going? Free any more enslaved house-elf labor recently?" Hermione burst out with giggles at that, as she both knew the only elf who really appreciated her knitting was Dobby, and he was already free. She swore, though, if he put one more layer of socks on, he'd leave footprints as big as a troll's. Hermione had never given up trying to free the other elves, but the knitting had become more of a hobby than a work effort, and she came to enjoy the relaxing way it made her feel, yet knowing she was still being productive.

"Nope, but the knitting's coming along nicely, I think." She really was getting pretty good at making little hats and scarves. Ron picked up a finished hat from her knitting basket sitting on the end of the table, smiling at him sticking his fingers through the ear holes and wiggling them at her. Maybe, she thought, if she ever had children some day, she'd be able to knit them something. Merlin, she felt like she was going to become the next Mrs. Weasley, and that made her smile even more, despite not even having clarified what precisely she would be becoming, title or personality. "How are you coming along on the homework?"

"Eh," Ron made a face, and they both laughed. He felt like he'd gotten somewhere on it, but he'd forgotten he'd written the letter instead of working on his assignment. They spent the next hour or so talking about nonsensical things, just enjoying being in one another's company. Homework was forgotten, and Hermione noticed, even if she knew Ron was purposely not saying anything related to it so she didn't snap back to attention and want to do more work.

Hermione loved both her best friends and would do anything for them, but she had to admit she was becoming enamored with Ron. There had been a noticeable development between them, since everyone had obviously noticed. She had to admit they had been holding hands or touching a bit more than usual lately, especially in the halls between classes. They wanted to take their time, though; at least Hermione did. She had an inkling that Ron hadn't gone past kissing a girl or two, and it still felt a bit awkward going any farther than what they had while Harry was still gone.

They got around to the subject of tomorrow, and Hermione admitted that she really did have to finish the paper she had been working on. Reluctantly, but good naturedly, Ron agreed to stop talking and work on his own homework as well. By the time Hermione was done, Ron had almost fallen asleep in his text book, as it had gotten late in the night. The common room was almost empty, except for Ron and Hermione, and a few first years huddled together with what Hermione suspected was a game. Stretching her arms up above her head, Hermione accidentally pushed her chair backward, scraping it over the floor slightly, though enough to bring Ron out of his blank stare at the book he hadn't been reading for the past five minutes.

Ron looked across the table to see a thin expanse of skin that Hermione's shirt had revealed as she stretched. He didn't realize he was staring until the grey curtain of Hermione's shirt dropped back down to cover her stomach. She smiled in bemusement at Ron's faint blush, but was glad he didn't avert his eyes when she looked into them, smiling. Standing from her seat, she walked around the table to his side. Hermione lifted a hand and brushed her fingers through Ron's hair as she leant down to give him a light kiss on the cheek. Straightening herself up, she smiled down at him before turning, and only taking one step before she felt his hand close around her wrist, gently pulling her back.

She turned, and almost tripped over Ron's foot as he'd pulled his chair back from the table, leaving enough room for her to not quite so gracefully fall into his lap. Ron looked a bit sheepish, but she raised an eyebrow, still smiling at him, and his tentative but brave arms closed around her waist. He rested his cheek against her shoulder, stealing a sniff of her faint perfume before tilting his head up and kissing the side of her mouth gently. She turned her head, smiling in the minute distance between their lips, as Ron hadn't moved away, and Hermione pressed her lips against his.

They hadn't gone past a few chaste kisses, like in the morning on the cheek still, and there hadn't been a time for them to be alone except for after the Prefects' meeting the other day. Opening her mouth under his, she let him slide his tongue slowly into her mouth, giving little flicks with her own to the tentative intruder. He grew bolder and deepened the kiss, and Hermione lifted a hand to his head, cupping it in her palm as she kissed him back with the same amount of passion he was giving. This was a different kind of kiss, mostly because of her new seat in the boy's lap, but she wasn't a total prude as to slink away from Ron when she fancied him more than a little bit, and knew for a fact he felt the same way, especially if their heated kisses meant anything.

It started out sweet and slow, not going past a few licks and nips of each other's mouth before they turned it into something a little more aggressive. Hermione felt her body be pulled closer to Ron's, and she tried not to smile and break the kiss when she felt his erection pushing against her through their clothes. She tightened her cheeks, gently rubbing against the swelling member, and pulled back when his lips froze. He'd barely realized he was so turned on, but now he had to wonder what she meant by that. Ron wasn't sure how far she wanted to go, but she sure wasn't pushing him away, or telling him to slow down.

"I have to get some sleep," Hermione said before she closed the small gap and kissed his stunned lips, which he closed after her lips left. She stood from his lap and he followed her face with his eyes, though they trailed up her body before they reached their destination. He stared up at her, lips still wet with both of their saliva, and he managed to smile.

Hermione winked at him and smiled back before she grabbed her bag, having already packed her books up in it before Ron even pulled himself out of his textbook induced daze. Turning, she headed towards the huddle of first years that had been watching them curiously.

Ron started to grin as she herded the boys to the dorms, then watched her walk up thestairs herself to the girls' rooms, with only a small look over her shoulder at him. He felt a bit uncomfortable now, not because of the situation, but because he'd never had a hard on sitting in the middle of the bloody common room before. Just because there wasn't anyone else there, didn't make it seem less weird.

He tried shifting in his seat to lesson the pressure on his erection, but to no avail. He sighed, defeat heaved out on that breath as he got up from the chair and made his way to the boys' dorms, leaving his books right where they were. He had a feeling he'd need to take care of a certain problem before he could go to sleep himself that night.

@>*~

When he'd left his room, he had absolutely no clue where he'd go. There were so many things spiraling through his mind that Severus simply needed to walk, meander, for as long as it took to clear his mind. He had settled on the fact that the boys were on their way, but he still had no idea how quickly they would arrive. It was obvious to him that Draco would be leading the way, but how? On memories almost ten years old? Snape knew there was a good head on that child, but even the sharpest mind's memories faded. It would give him at least a week, give or take, before they would find themselves in a heap of trouble.

When he'd come to that conclusion, Severus realized he'd made his way all the way back to the main entrance of the castle. He frowned, looking intently at his surroundings, and then turned to go back to his room. Walking up to the passage way he assumed he'd come through, he was stopped, watching as the wall slid silently, blocking the hall. A blank look came to his face, wondering if he was being trapped when he looked over to another passage, and it closed itself off as well. Frowning, Snape closed his eyes for a moment, wondering which direction he'd actually come from, but, when he opened his eyes again, the corridor directly in front of him was opened again.

Quickly, he dashed through it, and began walking down the hall, again almost lost in thought. He hadn't noticed any abruptly changing walls or door ways on his way, but perhaps he'd simply waved them off and chosen another alley? For anyone that had been inside the castle before knew it was an veritable maze of sharp turns and collapsible passages, which he'd just witnessed. If one were trying to get somewhere in particular, they'd never in a thousand years find their way. Letting his mind ease, Snape recalled the last time he was here, remembering the doors that appeared on walls, leaving him in the room he was seeking, though he knew he had been no where near it.

He'd found his room in mere minutes, and had gone to bed. He didn't receive much sleep that night, and any he managed to hold onto was restless and disturbed. Severus woke at daybreak, or what would have been dawn in Scotland, but he didn't care. It was a reason to stop attempting to sleep, and he began to wander around his room. The Dark Lord was due to arrive the first day that Snape himself had Apparated, but he never showed. It was clear that the ranks were starting to become frustrated about that, unsure of what they were to do. Most had taken to wandering the castle, disrupting classes, or holing up in random rooms to drink and chat.

The thing was, that Voldemort must have been there to begin with, in the room in which they'd all congregated, when he called them all by the Dark Mark; but then he had left. Why? Snape couldn't think of any reason for that, to gather them and leave them leaderless, at least for the time being. It was unlike other times he'd been summoned, where the Dark Lord would be already waiting for his minions to appear. Or else, he always made a timely entrance, drawing their whispering attention before he commenced a speech about whatever he was planning this time.

Snape was about to pour himself another cup of Firewhisky when his Dark Mark burned, stopping him dead. He felt sick like he was the only one being summoned, but he knew he couldn't disobey. Setting the bottle down with a thud, he turned abruptly and started out of his room. Voldemort had returned to the castle, and was calling the Death Eaters to him. By the time Snape had made it down three corridors, he found he wasn't the only one called, thankfully. They were called to the same room that they had been gathered in the first night they arrived. No one spoke as they walked, and Snape was fighting to clear his mind of any unhelpful thoughts.

It was quiet, save for his own footsteps and the beat of his heart. He was sure the others' shoes made sounds as well, but he couldn't hear it. The only thing he heard was the slightly disconcerting sound of the silent rustle of robes as they walked towards the room. There were arched doors in the stone all around the room, coming from corridors in the maze that was the Castle of Durmstrang. Unlike Hogwarts, the castle shifted its walls, sometimes displaced halves of entire floors, not only staircases and the scant hidden rooms. It truly was a maze, and anyone not knowing where they were going could, indeed, find themselves in a room with no way out.

Death Eaters poured out of the passages, and moved to stand before the Dark Lord. Voldemort sat in a large chair, hands on armrests that ended with the heads of some rather vicious looking animals, poised in a snarl. The chair was covered with fur and leather, but that was simply a standard feature in this castle, though Snape was sure it had been spruced up before Voldemort had deemed it worthy of his arse. The Dark Lord sat, unmoving, unblinking as his red eyes scanned through the ranks coming to stand before him. The two of his most prized servants were standing directly behind his chair, and Snape didn't bother hiding the slight shock at seeing who stood there, since that was most everyone else's expression as well. Peter Pettigrew and Lucius Malfoy.

@>*~

The trip through Muggle London was shorter than they thought it would be, and they decided it would be a good idea to stop for a bite to eat. It was easier to stop there for a while than to stick around Diagon Alley because they could tuck their cloaks away, find a secluded corner in a small shop and no one would notice. It was either that, or Knockturn Alley. No one would blink an eye at them with their hoods up if they kept up the air of purpose, which was probably why they hadn't chosen that route. By the time they got out of London, safely sitting in the train, it was close to nine-thirty.

The ride was quiet between the two of them, with only few words, though there were quite a lot of glances at each other. Absorbed in their own thoughts, they mutually and silently decided to stay that way until they reached their destination. As they ate, Draco had told Harry where their first stop was; Harry didn't have much of a plan B to offer, so he had agreed. They were at the very edge of England now, and were wondering how to cross the English Channel to get to France. The Channel Tunnel was an option, but they still had a very long journey ahead of them, and not much time to go about doing it.

With not being sure how long Snape would be in Durmstrang, Draco didn't want to take the chance that they'd get there and find out he'd already left. What a waste of a trip that would be, huh? One thing he'd noticed about Harry; he dawdled. Now, whether he knew it or not, he did, and it was another thing that drove Draco batty. He didn't have the luxury of dawdling, not when his father was around. Draco had learned to always be on time for things, be punctual. Now, they'd walked out into another bit of trees, and found a gap in them, like a small clearing.

It was obvious to Draco that they were going to Apparate, and when he turned around to look at Harry, who had been following him through the trees, he found that Harry didn't seem to know what was going to take place here. Draco didn't have his license, but he knew how, courtesy of his father. Harry looked back at him, looking a bit confused now, and perhaps a bit restless. "Now what?"

Draco stared at him for a moment, before he threw up his arms. His mouth worked for a moment, not really wanting to yell at the other boy, as it might draw someone into the forest to investigate, and he just didn't feel like yelling. "Well, what did you think we were doing, hiking off into the trees for? A shag?" Draco let his arms drop, and thought for a second that Harry might blush at the mention of sex. Even if he had, it was too dark to see it with the few feet between them. Harry sighed, and Draco continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Harry, it's not that hard; I've done it lots of times."

"That's easy for you to say. If you want to go that way, go ahead, and I'll meet you there," Harry said petulantly, even as he started to fidget. Draco sighed, watching the nervous boy across from him. He swore, if Harry pouted, he would meet him there. Harry just stood there, staring back at the blond, and Draco wondered if Harry knew how he was acting right now. He'd chalk it up to the hormones for now, but as he didn't really know Harry that much, this could be a regular occurrence. If that was the case, he wasn't sure how much of it he could take. Being around the other boy was going to be such a headache until this baby was born, if he was even pregnant. He still wasn't quite sure whether Harry was lying through his teeth or not.

"Okay, how's this: I'll teach you." Harry looked back at him, starting to shake his head nervously. Draco continued, not wanting to hear the, 'Gee, I don't know, Draco. It sounds dangerous,' speech. How Harry had ever managed to do the many so called heroic things he'd done by being a big baby, Draco couldn't fathom; that lead him to believe the hormones theory, for the time being. "You've studied your books for the test, right?" Harry nodded, but still looked unsure. He really hadn't gotten too far in the text, but even then, it was hard to learn something like that from a guide. "So, look, all you have to do is picture where, exactly, you want to reappear, and concentrate hard on that image. Imagine you're there, and, presto, you'll be there."

"Draco, I've never been out of England!" he shouted. "I have no idea where to go. Yes, I could sit here and think all I want about France, but where would I turn up? Paris? Versailles?" Harry stalked moodily over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down on it. He was tired and really didn't feel up to trying something he'd never done before, especially when his mind insisted on wandering. What was he supposed to do, picture some guy in a beret?

Shutting his eyes, Draco simply waited a few moments before he decided what he was going to do; what they were going to do. He turned to face Harry, who'd stomped by him through the grass, and now he saw was slumped down on a log. Draco sighed loud enough to draw the other boy's attention, and then he smiled at Harry before simply disappearing. Harry blinked in the dark, not quite sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. When he looked to the sides, around himself, and still didn't see Draco...

Harry stood up abruptly, and almost tripped himself in the tall grass as he turned around, looking for the blond. He stared at the last spot he'd seen Draco in, and his eyes went wide in horror. "How," Harry whispered to himself, before changing his words, "How could he leave me?" He fell quiet now, every little sound jumping out at him, and he tried to repress the panic that was quickly trying to overtake him. Before he had a chance to call out for the other boy, he heard a faint breath being drawn from somewhere close behind him. He whirled around, looking, feeling his heart beginning to beat faster before he saw the other boy step out from around a tree, smiling.

When Harry saw who it was that began laughing, he started to run to the other boy. First, he wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, hugging him tightly. Draco certainly wasn't expecting this, and he'd simply stood there, arms at his sides. Harry pulled back, and looked a bit angry, Draco had time to muse, before the dark-haired boy pulled his arm back even farther, and launched it straight into Draco's stomach. Ah, that was more like what he had been expecting, as the air was forced out of his lungs at the blow. Harry still had his arm over Draco's shoulders as the blond doubled over, and he wheezed slightly as he tried to regain his breath. "Why the bloody hell did you do that for?" he asked, voice still a bit hoarse.

"You left!"

"I didn't go that far, Harry," Draco pointed out, literally, as he jerked a thumb behind himself to the tree he'd been behind. Harry turned his head back to glare at the tree, the poor thing not even three meters away from where they stood now. This gave Draco time to compose himself, and he stood straight, looking at Harry. "Look, since you don't know anything about France, why not just picture me?"

"How?" Harry asked, sliding his arm from Draco's shoulders as the other boy stood up. "I don't have any pictures of you, though."

Choosing to ignore that comment, not even shaking his head in resigned frustration, Draco continued. "It does the same thing as thinking of the place you want to go. I'll go first, then you follow." He noted Harry's eyes flick nervously to the side when he said he'd leave first, but it honestly was the only way to go about teaching Harry to do this. "I'm telling you, it's not that hard. Just... concentrate," he said, closing his eyes, and he calmly stood there for a moment.

Draco pictured the cobbled street he'd remembered. His father had taken him on a specific route on their trips to the wizarding school of Durmstrang; through all-wizarding communities, though there was the occasional stop in Muggle cities, mostly for material things. He remembered going down a street, walking past a little shop on the corner once or twice, smelling the smell of baking bread as he passed. He put the memories together as an image in the front of his mind, and relaxing himself and focusing on the image, he opened his eyes once more.

He found himself standing in the middle of a street, and had to dodge out of the way before a carriage got too close to where he was standing dumbly. The street was full of rushing people, making their way to and fro between the many different shops. It was one of the few wizarding communities in France, and the first stop on their journey, and he was glad he wasn't trying to teach Harry how to Apparate somewhere that wasn't safe, like somewhere that people wouldn't take sanely to someone suddenly appearing out of thin air.

Harry had seen Draco's eyes moving behind their lids, etching some image onto them, and with a soft pop sound, Draco was gone. Forcing himself to be calm, as well, Harry didn't panic at the disappearance. He gave a heavy sigh, trying to settle his nerves before his eyes flickered closed. He started to picture Draco: blond hair, grey eyes, black cloak... No, that wasn't working. All that was doing was making a choppy picture of all of those things stuck together, like they were cut out of several different magazine pictures.

He squeezed his eyes gently, and tried to call up another image of the Slytherin. The first thing that came to mind was from only a few minutes ago, when Draco had sidled around the side of the tree, smiling at him. Not a whole smile, mind you; more his usual arrogant smirk. His body leaned gracefully against the tree; lean, though Harry knew there were toned muscles underneath. The silver blond hair picked up glints of moonlight, highlighting a few strands white, and Harry felt the smell of the other boy, sharp, and he thought of a many petaled flower with thorns, not matching a smell, but the flower it came from, whose name escaped him.

With his eyes still closed, Harry began to smile, and felt his body shift. He reached up to hold the bag he was carrying back onto his shoulder, but it was already there. "Hmm," he heard from the near vicinity, and he slowly opened his eyes to find himself standing in an alley way, with Draco leaning up against the wall he was facing, arms crossed. Harry smiled fully, and Draco gave him a sweeping look with his eyes before rolling them to the side as he turned his body.

Harry started with saying, "I did it." He hadn't even realized it, but he supposed that was what that shift was, maybe a different breeze, but it was definitely easier than he thought.

"Yes, it was marvelous, Potter," Draco drawled, though he didn't say it with much malice in his voice. He sounded amused to Harry, and he only had a moment to spare before his face paled and he turned around as quickly as he could, kneeling down. Draco was about to continue before he saw Harry go stark white, before flushing again, and turning. Draco instinctively stepped forward, crouching a bit behind the other boy, laying a hand on the small of Harry's back. He held back an 'ugh' and opted for, "Harry?"

Harry's body gave another jerk as more bile surged upwards, and out of his mouth. Draco only saw a bit of sick, or rather, heard it come up, and kept out of viewing range after that. He rubbed lightly across Harry's back, waiting for him to finish. He knew Harry hadn't eaten much that day, so there wouldn't be much to come up. Harry gave a couple last dry heaves, and then stilled for a moment before starting to straighten himself up. Draco stood quickly, a concerned expression on his face, which Harry noticed as he faced the blond. "Yeah," Harry said, swallowing. "I'm alright. The Apparating jostled my stomach; didn't take too kindly to that."

Draco nodded, and began to walk out into the busy street. Harry followed after him, though he caught up to Draco's side after a moment; he didn't want to be alone, and he hadn't a clue what he'd have done if he couldn't manage to Apparate, and Draco didn't come back. He'd never have made it this far without the other boy's help, and Harry knew it. Harry looked at all the shops they passed, though his eyes lingered on a flower shop, with all sorts of exotic magical plants waving at him through the glass panes.

They made good time as they wound their way down the street, though still having no clue how long it would take to reach Snape before he headed back to Hogwarts. "There are matches coming up," Draco said as they passed a broom shop. "What exactly is the Gryffindor team going to do for a Seeker, if we're still gone? I know we have a reserve," he said a little more quietly, knowing full well that the rest of the Slytherin team wouldn't hesitate to bring in the reserve, "but I have no idea about your team."

Harry thought about it for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure," he said, looking at Draco as they walked. "I never thought about it, really. Though we've been letting Dennis practice with the Snitch, he's not really ready for it, but I suppose he'd be considered our reserve Seeker. He probably wouldn't even have been given a chance to play if I was still at school, but I s'pose with the new...situation, I won't be playing anyway. I don't know if I want anyone else to know."

The blond watched as Harry gestured vaguely to his stomach, and was reminded of Harry being sick only a few minutes ago. There certainly were signs saying that it was true, that Harry was really pregnant. He wondered if anyone else knew, maybe Granger, since she did tend to stick her nose into everything. "Why not?" he asked.

"Just strange, you know?" Harry said, and paused for a moment. Draco didn't say anything, but Harry saw him nod faintly to his side. "I was raised thinking males couldn't carry children, so it never crossed my mind. Sometimes I don't even remember, and that kind of... scares me. Like if I hurt it, or something."

It. Draco hadn't even looked at Harry's stomach and contemplated a child at the same time. When they'd last touched each other, it hadn't even crossed his mind that he might be doing something that would damage the child. He didn't even know the gender, but maybe Harry didn't either. He really didn't want to go into that right now, though. It was too soon for him to think about it, maybe get some more Apparating practice done around this town. For now, Draco thought he'd change the subject to something less awkward, or at least not something so emotionally potent. "I heard you were raised by Muggles."

"Yeah," responded Harry. He knew it was a subject change, and right now, he'd be glad to yak about his boring and cruel relatives compared to the problems of his life. He didn't particularly think of any of this as a problem, but why did it always have to happen to him? Was it even possible for him to go an entire year, or six months, without something tragic happening in his life? He'd barely made it the first year of his life without being scarred for life.

"How could you stand it? Being around Muggles, I mean. Did you not have other relatives who could take care of you?" Draco asked. He had never been in a Muggle house before, but he knew they weren't as large as the Manor he grew up in. Despite what people may think, he wasn't waited on hand and foot, forcing house-elves to do his bidding. Of course, he was used to a certain amount of luxury in that department, but it wasn't as if he was an invalid when it came to doing something menial for himself.

Harry sighed quietly, almost unheard by Draco in the busy, noisy street. They were nearing a less cluttered area, though, coming up into the more proper and fancy businesses. "None that I know of," Harry said. "Dumbledore's the one who thought it would be best for me to stay with the Dursleys. I'm not sure if he knew or not how they'd treat me."

"Bad?" Draco thought he might have picked another wonderful subject to talk about, but now he couldn't make himself shut up. He had no idea what had spurred this sudden interest in Potter's life, but he had to admit it wasn't that bad. The only others whose lives he knew about were people he'd spent time with even before school started. Crabbe and Goyle were exactly the same, pampered, stuffed full of sweets. Blaise had been quiet then, too, but Draco knew he wasn't a selfish brat, or at least not all the time.

"You could say that," Harry said, and if they had to pick a word to describe how he voiced those words, it might have been 'forlornly'. There was no way Harry could deny he wished he had grown up with his parents, and never had the awful life he had before his Hogwarts letter came by owl post. "They hated that I could do magic, locked me in the cupboard under the stairs for five years; that kind of thing. When I came back from school after my first year, I guess they were even more scared of me; decided I would be allowed to sleep in my cousin's second bedroom, but they still made sure they could lock me in when they felt they needed to."

"That's horrible," Draco said, frowning. He had no idea Harry had a less than stellar life with his family, or relatives. Since he was raised in a wizarding family himself, he grew up knowing the name Harry Potter, and the 'fame' that surrounded it; most people probably didn't even know that about Harry at Hogwarts, let alone the entire wizarding world. "No wonder You-Know-Who wants to rid the world of Muggles."

Harry managed to scoff at that. "Didn't your father ever tell you that Voldemort isn't pure blood?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, frowning deeper as they continued down the street. They came to the end, to an intersection, and they stopped. Draco had a thoughtful expression settled over his features, and Harry couldn't tell whether or not it was to think about where to go now, for directions to where they were going to stay, or about what he'd just said.

"His father was a Muggle, from what I understand. It seems he's taking his revenge on all Muggles due to his father disowning him when he was little, just because of what he was." Draco didn't say anything, but he gestured to turn left, and they started down another street, and Harry followed, still at the other boy's side.

"From what I've seen, all Muggles are vile," Draco said after a minute. "They persecute wizards for nothing more than having magic, and try to rid themselves of us, calling us the 'filth'. Why do you think we take so many precautions against letting Muggles find out about our world?" He'd never really been given a chance to speak about how he really felt about non-magic folk, but this was alright. It definitely was true he'd never actually known a Muggle, and he knew there were a couple of Muggle-borns in Slytherin, but none in his year, so he didn't usually speak to them.

"They're not all bad," Harry said, looking up at a tall, beige building they were approaching. "Take the Muggle-born students at school, for example; especially Hermione. Her parents are both dentists and they were proud of her being different from themselves. They even go with her when she needs to pick up books and things from Diagon Alley. My relatives would only drop me off at the train station, and that was only after I scared them into doing it; that, and they were glad to be rid of me."

Draco supposed he could be wrong; after all, they were all just human beings. He wasn't going to give it too much thought, at least not at the moment. They stopped in front of the tall building, and Draco opened the door, letting Harry go inside. Harry wasn't sure what he was stepping into, didn't even know if it was a bar with rooms for rent, or a classy hotel. Either way, he was a bit nervous, especially when it turned out to be the latter. Draco followed him inside, and passed him, making his way to the desk.

Harry caught up again, and listened to what Draco was saying. "This'll be a good place to stay until tomorrow night. My father prefers the darker, more shadier hotels, at least the ones that still held class in his eyes, but my mother brought me here. She didn't think they were proper places for a child to stay, so we came here." Harry looked around while Draco talked to the witch at the desk. It was a fairly nice hotel, but he could tell that it wouldn't have stuffy employees, bowing and simpering to the rich.

That actually surprised him a little bit, considering his few experiences with Narcissa Malfoy; he'd always thought Draco's mother was the kind to have everything done for her, while she sat there and simply watched. He had to admit he didn't know the woman, and had never seen her in a private setting, or without her husband. Harry was beginning to think Draco was starting to warm up to him, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe he'd been wrong about the kind of person the blond was, and he'd known him for seven years. How should he be able to judge the boy's mother when he'd only seen her a scant few times in public and only spoken to her once.

The way Draco looked at him sometimes made Harry think he was simply humoring him, but Harry frowned at the thought. He hoped they could at least come to some kind of understanding, especially since he was carrying Draco's child within himself. He heard Draco thank the witch, and take something from her hand. Draco turned and stepped back towards Harry, jingling the key to the room they were staying in.

While they were still in Diagon Alley, it had been late and they were both exhausted, which allowed them not to piss around with two rooms there, but what about here? They certainly had time to make arrangements, but Harry shrugged those thoughts off as he walked up the stairs after the blond. He was tired, though. They'd walked quite a long way, but it was good. They weren't in a rush, yet, and it had given Harry time to settle himself, and his stomach.

@>*~

In the darkened street in Hogsmeade, outside the Hog's Head, no one paid any mind to two heavily cloaked men Apparating with a crack into the middle of the road. No one batted an eye when they walked into the establishment, and paid for a room, just for the night. They had their hoods up on their black cloaks, and it didn't draw any attention from the bar patrons as they wound their way through the room, heading for the stairs.

@>*~

Their lessons on Friday had dragged along, due to not many people paying attention. Most people were chatting about the trip over the weekend, where everyone who had permission from third year and up could leave school grounds for the all-wizarding town of Hogsmeade. All through breakfast, the Gryffindors were talking about what they were going to do, and who was going to hang out with whom. Ron had stayed quiet, but he seemed to be listening to Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Hermione had listened as well, finally getting the hint after several tries to talk to her best friend.

They had both shared a look when Seamus started asking Neville what he wanted to do after breakfast. "Uhm, I think I might stay here today," said Neville. "I want to finish my Transfiguration homework before I forget about it. Maybe Sunday?"

"Oh, come on, Nev," Dean said, nudging the other boy's shoulder with his own. They were sitting across from Ron and Hermione, Seamus on the other side of Neville. Neville shook his head and grinned, sticking to his explanation. Hermione had an inkling that Neville had other things to do than homework. While almost eighty-five percent of the seventh years were out at Hogsmeade for the next two days, it left an awful lot of empty places around the castle. They would be perfect for a couple to run off to, shut the door, and have some alone time.

She barely had wondered whether there were other rooms Harry and Malfoy had been in together when the boy across the table from her mentioned her missing friend's name. "Oi, is Harry going to be back this weekend?" Seamus asked. "He'll miss a great pre-game celebration for Hufflepuff if he's not." Ron still didn't say anything, though he was obviously trying to think of what he should say if she didn't. He looked to her, and she spoke up.

"I think Dumbledore added another week onto his training, but he may be back sooner than that, depending on how it goes," she said. Merlin, she hoped they didn't keep asking. Even if they only asked every other day, it was still hard to feel confident that Harry would return when she thought he would, when Lupin had said they should be back. Dean and Seamus shrugged and went back to their food, thankfully not harassing Neville about going with them today.

The whole school knew that Harry was gone, and it did go off well to tell them he was in training. They had said he was on an errand to begin with, but that soon turned into a training session. There was nothing Dumbledore would take Harry out of school for more than two days to complete, therefore, it had to be something concerning Harry directly. All of the Slytherins knew that Draco was missing, and they knew that thanks to Blaise Zabini, and Neville, of course. Ron had been noticing the other boy a lot more lately.

He hadn't realized how out of the way the quiet Slytherin was, but he didn't start fights, had good grades, Hermione told him. Ron just didn't know how to take the other boy. It was strange for him to think of anyone from Slytherin as a good person, but he supposed it happened once in a while. Hermione had told him that just because someone possessed qualities that the Sorting Hat was trained by Salazar Slytherin to observe in a person's mind, didn't mean they were bad. Harry had those qualities, and he was alright; Ron couldn't dispute that, so it got him to thinking.

That didn't mean he was happy about the whole Malfoy situation. Aside from it making him gag when he created some disturbing mental image of the blond with his best friend, it just didn't make sense. Why would Harry be with someone like that? It boggled his mind, and that was why he'd just opted not to think about it at all anymore. He wanted Harry to come back, and to return safely, with minor injuries, if any. Hermione had told him that they were still traveling. Yesterday after supper she'd found Professor Lupin and asked him to update her on what was going on.

He hadn't much to tell her. "Professor Dumbledore is confident that no harm will come to the boys, and they should return within the next week, depending how far they've gone already," Lupin had said to her, but that was about it. After that, she'd asked him about Snape, and he said he had put a stop to the telepathy, trusting that Snape had received his message. "Snape will be very helpful in this situation, Hermione, trust me."

Hermione had a hard time trusting the Potions master, despite knowing his involvement in the Order of the Phoenix. He wasn't the most social of people, but he had never once stayed for dinner at Sirius' house, even after the accident in the Department of Mysteries. She didn't want to think about that, though. It was hard on her, and Ron, and all of the children, for that matter, when Sirius had disappeared. For those that saw it, it was even worse. They couldn't believe he was still gone, but they couldn't sit and cry about it, they needed to get on with their lives. It was an ode to the man, who hated to be kept from doing something he didn't want to do.

Who wanted to cry, anyway? Exactly. There had been a nice funeral, and Fred and George had obtained some alcohol, and, aiding to the delinquency of minors, they'd shared it with them. Ginny wasn't allowed any, but Ron had managed to get positively pissed. It was a fond memory, despite not remembering much of it, and Ron smiled as he shoved the last bite of toast into his mouth. It was a nice day outside, and he looked up to the enchanted ceiling, seeing the blue sky, scattered, white, fluffy clouds drifting around. It wasn't snowing yet, but it wouldn't be long before it did.

"You ready?" Hermione asked him, and he looked down to her, swallowing the food in his mouth. He nodded and smiled again, and she smiled back. They hadn't talked about the trip to Hogsmeade, or what they were going to do today. That was mostly due to the worry about Harry, but she could tell that Ron was a bit nervous about it all. After all, it was a "date", their first. How was he supposed to act? Did he have to pay for everything? He hadn't been on many dates, and not without some other friends there, too. Harry wasn't around, and he didn't want Seamus or Dean hanging around, so what was he supposed to do?

The two of them made their way back to Gryffindor Tower to collect their cloaks and money before heading back down to the front doors to the castle. They took a carriage into the wizarding town, and thanked the driver when they climbed out. Dumbledore hired safe transportation for his students, so they didn't have to pay the man. He tipped his hat at them and started off with his horse. They headed down the main street of the town, wondering where they should stop in first. They peered into the shop windows, and Ron wanted to go into Honeydukes to stock up on a few candies, since the house-elves usually didn't have some of the ones he really liked.

Hermione bought a few Toothflossing Stringmints for her parents, since they had expressed their fondness for them the last time she'd sent them some. "I'll wait by the door," she said to Ron, leaning in to whisper the words into his ear. It was a bit noisy in the shop, since some of the third years who were eager to gather up sweets were talking quite loudly. Ron agreed with a nod, and he went up to the counter to pay for his candies.

Hermione walked to the door and stood to the side so as not to block the way, and looked out the window to the bustling street outside. It was a bit chilly today, but that was to be expected for November. There were students running from shop to shop, carriages trotting by, and town residents milling around, talking to each other, and groups of students stood and chatted about things. It looked like a pleasant scene, and she smiled at it. It would have been perfect if it started to snow right now, soft little flakes drifting down. Most people were wrapped warmly, so there wasn't any harm to be done, not especially if they're wizards, to boot. Ah, the marvels of Warming Spells.

There was one thing that caught her eye, though, and it didn't fit in with the happy picture she saw through the window. Hermione felt Ron at her side, and she turned back to see him, bag in hand, ready to go. "What are you looking at?" he asked, looking out the window, frowning as he tried to see what she had seemed to find so interesting.

"Those men," she said, pointing out to a tall lamp post where two men in dark cloaks stood, one leaning against the pole. "Their hoods are up, and don't they look like they're watching for something?" Ron watched them for a minute, and they were, indeed scanning the crowds. "What's strange, is that there are mostly students here today. Why would they be looking for a student?"

"Good thing Harry's not here," Ron said, thinking very unpleasantly of You-Know-Who sending goons after Harry. Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, not even when someone pushed by Ron to get through the door he was blocking. He knocked into Hermione, and she shuffled over, trying to give him some more room to look out the window with her.

"I don't think they're looking for Harry," she said, sounding surer than she felt about it. "If they were, why wouldn't they be following us? I mean, it's no secret that we're his best friends, right?" Ron nodded, frowning as he looked over her shoulder. That was true, and it had happened before, not to mention the two of them always getting involved in Harry's adventures.

"Who would they be looking for, then?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "Who else would have two cloaked men watching for them?"

"Malfoy," Ron whispered. She hadn't really expected an answer, but it made her laugh for a moment. It did make a bit of sense, though. There might be people looking for Draco, but she couldn't think of any reason why. Maybe not looking to capture him, or hurt him, but to protect him made a bit of sense. After all, his father was a very rich man, and with Lucius Malfoy in prison, it left the family's assets a bit vulnerable to thieves holding out for a ransom.

"They are kind of big," Ron said in defense. "Maybe they're supposed to be body guards or something."

"Well, whoever they are, I hope they don't herald trouble for anyone that I love and care about. Or anyone period, for that matter," Hermione said, and Ron took the hint at finality and followed after her as she opened the door to exit the sweet shop.

@>*~