Come Undone

Body


Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I'm not profiting, I'm just playing. All credit and profits go to J.K. and her associates.

Warning: sex, blood, death, the works. If you've read the whole thing this far and haven't figured it out, there's no hope for you. I suggest seeking solitude for the remainder of your days.

Confused and Wracked With Self-Doubt

"It seems a little time is needed/ Decisions to be made/ The

good advice of friends unheeded/ The best of plans mislaid/

Just looking for a new direction/ In an old familiar way/ The

forming of a new connection/ To study or to play"- Keep Feeling

Fascination, Joe Callis and Philip Oakley of the Human League, 1984

Albus poured fresh tea into the three mugs on the tray before him. "I appreciate your concerns, but I'm afraid I do find them rather baseless."

"Baseless!?" Severus cried indignantly.

"Albus!" Minerva cried in turn.

Holding up a silencing hand, Albus managed to remain in control of the situation. He took a deep breath and began again. "Minerva, I am not a stupid man. I do not make such important decisions on the fly."

"I never said you were a stupid man," said she. "And I never will. But I don't understand."

"What is there not to understand?" inquired the elder wizard.

"It's their lives! And all you have to say is that we're overreacting?" Severus demanded.

"I never said that you were overreacting, though I am inclined to agree with you." The old man sipped at his tea, carefully choosing his next words.

"Of course I trust your judgment; I just don't understand why," Minerva said when the old man had fallen silent.

"My dear," he began, setting down his cup and folding his hands in his lap, "I have tried to be as plain as possible. Harry and Draco are in a precarious position, the likes of which none of us in all our vastly finite wisdom could ever even hope to comprehend. They have lost nearly every freedom they've ever had here and they've lost virtually all their freedoms from each other for the rest of their lives. Life. They need some time apart."

"So I suppose this is your version of compensating them," spat Severus. "By letting them run amok with those... those upstarts!"

"Those upstarts are very capable individuals. I would trust them with my life."

"Are you so eager to put Harry at risk?" Minerva said rather quietly.

"I'm eager to put no one at risk."

"Harry is special," she said, choosing her words very carefully. Severus glared at her.

"Harry is special, yes. But so is Draco and so are the both of you and so am I." Severus stopped glaring.

"You know what I mean."

"If Harry is to survive long enough to face his foes, he will need his sanity intact. As will Draco, perhaps even more so."

"They're only sixteen," she insisted, deciding to take a stance she hoped the Headmaster wouldn't be so inclined to defend.

"I am well aware how old they are," he answered stonily.

"I was sixteen once and if I knew then what I know now, I would have saved myself a world of headaches," interjecthe the other wizard.

Albus laughed. "And if I had a knut for every time I said that, I would be a very rich man indeed." Sobering, he looked from Severus to Minerva and back again. "I understand your concerns, and in a way, I also share them. However, I feel that it is of utmost importance to keep an open mind in regards to this current situation. I don't necessarily approve of their preferred... activities, but if that is the worst they can do-"

"They could die!" Severus practically shouted in his exasperation.

"And they will. Someday," he said. "Not tonight or tomorrow and of that I am completely certain. This was not a spur of the moment decision. Careful thought and planning have been implemented. I've stewed over this for weeks and I made my decision. I am reasonably certain that I am making a poor choice -at least in one arena- but it is mine to make, nonetheless."

"Okay," sighed Minerva, "their own long-term health risks aside, there's still endless possibilities for them to get into trouble. Draco's out there in the dead centre of wizarding London. Who knows who's looking for him even as we speak?"

Shaking his head, Severus couldn't believe Minerva. She really had no idea why he dragged her up to the Headmaster, he decided. He had always considered death to be rather long-term and even more so than some disease. His conc res rested more with their vulnerability increasing -as it generally did when one lacked clothing- than that the boys were indulging in sexual activities as such.

"And should anyone be looking for him, I am more than certain they won't find him," the Headmaster stated with utmost confidence.

"Oh?" Severus inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"Of course I have placed charms and whathaveyou's on the boy. And there is an absolutely superb disguise supplied by George," he assured them.

"Disguise?"

Albus choked on his tea. "Funny thing about that." He wiped his mouth with a napkin, as much to hide his humour as clean himself up. "I would tell you about it, but I'm afraid young Malfoy would become the brunt of your tasteless sense of humour, Severus."

"You're doing nothing to reassure me, Albus," he hissed in a warning fashion. Dumbledore could be exasperating, but this was getting ludicrous.

"If I've told you once, boy, I've told you a thousand times," the old man began, much to Minerva's irritation, and Severus forced himself not to give in to the old routine. He pursed his lips. "They are safe. They are completely safe. Harry is still here, is he not? and he would come to any one of us if- Well," he chuckled in good humour, "maybe not all of us- but he'd be sure to let us know if there was something we should be aware of. He's not a stupid boy. And George is with him. I have all the confidence in the world in those twins, Severus. For once just say, 'Okay, Albus, I trust you.'" Though he generally hated taking the father/small child stance with the younger wizard, there were times that he found it was a necessary evil.

For his part, Severus was trying desperately not to curse the man or laugh at him. The dreaded Tone had been spoken in. There were few things that Severus Snape, former Death Eater and Hogwarts' Potions Master for ten years, could not withstand. He had undergone hours of nearly unbearable torture as a rite of passage into Voldemort's inner circle. Hours of torture far worse followed that when he had gone to Albus Dumbledore and confessed his sins. And weeks after that in the Ministry's offices and jail cells. Now he could handle seven years of children who were more interested in each other than they were in learning everything he had to teach them with the usually greatest of ease. In his youth he had withstood Lucius Malfoy's brutal version of lovemaking on a regular basis, put himself in worse positions than that with creatures far fouler than the likes of Malfoy, and lived to keep silent about it. He'd survived his failed reconciliation with his former master when he had attempted to make his apology and act as a spy. (Unfortunately, Lucius had gone the no-nonsense route and nearly killed him when he placed the first foot on Malfoy soil. He'd only just managed to hobble away from that when Voldemort himself had shown up just to magickally kick him in his broken ribs a few times before allowing him to crawl slowly into the woods surrounding the mansion where he'd lain for days, drifting in and out of differing states of consciousness.) And here he was to not tell about it. And neither Voldemort nor Lucius nor any of the damned Ministry officials had gotten him to say a single word that could be construed as a plea or an admission oflt. lt. His personal orders always came above their orders. But when Albus sng Dng Dumbledore used that condescending tone that said, 'You will listen to reason no matter how much it hurts or I will continue to humiliate you until you do,' only too clearly, he had no choice but to obey. He was at Dumbledore's mercy and they both knew it.

"Fine." Little more than a whispered hiss, really. He'd give in; he always did, but he'd be damned if he'd be cheerful about it. "Yes, Sir. You're right, Sir," he finished in his own condescending voice.

Albus was slightly taken aback. Never had the younger wizard taken that stance! He was learning a new battle tactic, he thought, pleased. "Thank you. And if it makes you feel any better, I have been assured that safety comes first. By all parties."

"Very well. Sir."

"Get out of here!" the old man cried, pointing at the door and laughing. "You've wasted far too much of my time this evening."

"Good night, Albus," Minerva muttered on her way to the door.

"Good night, Dear," he replied, smiling broadly at Severus' pinched face. He hadn't moved from his seat. The door clicked shut and he continued, "Severus, what is it going to take to make you trust me?"

"You don't understand exactly what my complaint is, do you?" he asked instead ofweriwering. Before the elder could respond, he'd continued. "I love those boys, Albus. I do not want to see anything happen to them as a result of poor decision making."

The Headmaster sighed heavily as he sank further into his chair. He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. "Of course, any number of things could go wrong, and believe me, I understand. As I have already said, this decision was not made on the spur of the moment. I have thought very long and hard about it for a very long time and I made my decision."

"Is there a reason you chose to not consult Minerva and myself?" he asked rather tersely.

"Yes, there is a very legitimate reason. Your opinions are too strong to retain an open mind when it comes to these things. Not that this is a negative," he said as he held up a silencing hand. "If I had consulted you, I could guarantee that you both would have disagreed. And, as I have already told you, I share many of your concerns. I was not lying when I said that I don't necessarily approve of their activities, but some things are more important than others. Sanity is a rare commodity these days, especially amongst sixteen-year-old boys who are magickally bonded to one another."

"So sanity comes before safety, does it?" he spat. "Fine. I'll buy that. Except that I know for goddamn certain that it's going to take a lot longer than a few months to drive them mad. And considering what they've already gone through-"

"I would feel more inclined than not to give them a little leeway where I can," he finished.

"Albus," he sighed, exasperated. He stared at his hands, searching for words.

"Severus, I trust your judgment. Please trust mine."

He stared at the old wizard skeptically. He had never led him irreparably astray, nor anyone else so far as Severus was aware. But the lives of those boys were at stake and that outweighed all else in his mind, including reason. "I don't want anything to happen to them," he finally muttered.

"Nor do I. And I am certain beyond any shred of doubt -reasonable or otherwise- that nothing bad will befall either of them," said the old man.

"Better not," he muttered again.

Albus laughed. "Why, Severus Snape!" he exclaimed. "Never in all my life did I ever imagine you'd be so concerned for the well being of a Gryffindor!"

"He's not just a Gryffindor," he sighed. "Honestly, I thought you'd known better."

"I was being facetious, Severus," he stated.

"Promise they're safe."

"I promise on my life and everything I've ever known that they are completely, totally, and four hundred and eighty-three percent safe."

"Fine. Thank you." He stood and made his way to the door.

"Severus?" He looked over his shoulder. "Don't be too hard on the boy. I get the impression that it wasn't really his fault."

Nodding, he left the Headmaster's ce ace and began descending the magickal staircase, deep in thought. His concern was not just for Harry nor just for Draco. Over the last five months or so, he had grown rather protective over them both. Draco was always one of his favourites and not just because he was in Slytherin. Draco had more promise as a wizard than anyone else he'd ever met, aside from Harry. They were equal in that respect. But even that was not the source of his concern. No, that source was their susceptibility. They were one in the same as far as their health and safety was concerned.

His affection for the boys had been steadily increasing as time wore on. Harry had continued to spend whatever time he could spare in the Potions room with Severus. Draco was doing his work in the library, so he saw him very rarely, much to his disappointment. Their work impressed him. Their sheer determination impressed him. He'd never met two people who were so vehement in living their own lives their own ways. They had grown up so fast... It was such a shame, really. They should be doing all the things that teenagers normally did instead of worrying about keeping each other alive. But it was these factors and then some that led Severus into seeking out the Headmaster and expressing his concerns.

Of course, he hadn't exactly expected to divulge his affection to the elder man. That had happened more as a last resort than anything else. He would never admit it to anyone else. He doubted that anyone other than Albus Dumbledore would have been able to understand where he was coming from. Minerva certainly wouldn't have understood. They were her students, her charges, but nothing more or less. For Severus they were hope incarnate, will made flesh, determination in the solid. They were his ideal. Despite the initial hopelessness of their situation, both boys had done an amazing job of overcoming themselves. He hoped that they would soon overcome each other and begin moving on instead of fighting reality forever.

As he made his way to his private quarters, Severus reviewed the last five months. He replayed his and Albus' conversation with Harry over and over. Harry's hysterical laughter still echoed in his mind, still frightened him. His refusal to give up still moved him. Even when he'd had to tell the boy that there was no way to undo the magick, he hadn't given up. He had fought that much harder, in fact, to make it work. He tried to separate himself from Draco, though he doubted very much that anyone really knew why.

It had been during one late night in mid-August that Harry had confessed his secret to his least favourite teacher. He had said, "We have to undo this. We have to." Severus said nothing and Harry continued. "It's bad enough that I've got to face the bastard, don't make Draco do it, too."

He had been talking to himself more than Severus, but he had heard nonetheless. Though his behaviour over the months since term had started was nothing short of volatile, his concern for Draco was unparalled. He hated him as much as he loved him, and of that Severus was completely certain. Harry didn't know how to put himself before others, despite what his actions suggested. Not even Draco. He acted the way he acted more out of habit than consciousness, he suspected. Or because he had to have something to hold on to.

"Fuck," he sighed quietly to himself as he leaned against his door. "Please, Diosa, if you love me at all, please keep them safe."

*****

Sunday passed in awkward silence for Harry and Draco. The former was constantly battling himself as to whether or not he should scream at the other boy for his rotten sense of timing, but always gave up that train of thought when he considered how much hell Draco would give him. Draco, on the other hand, could not get Fred's wordt oft of his mind. He was furious, to say the least, but he was also certain that Fred didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about. Had Harry mentioned his embarrassment, Draco wouldn't have noticed. He would have shaken it off and gone about ignoring the Gryffindor that much harder.

By Monday morning, however, Harry was a nervous wreck. First class of the day was double Potions with Slytherin. And Professor Snape. The two had not crossed paths since that even Sat Saturday evening, for which both were exceptionally grateful. Harry was convinced that Snape would do everything within his human and magickal powers to make him feel like the ass he was. Not that he needed reminding, of course.

The two boys took their usual seats in the back of the room, at the furthest table before class was to begin. Harry immediately sat down to twiddling his thumbs and ignoring the irritating twitching in his left eye. Draco, on the other hand, was feeling slightly less intimidated by his constant companion by this time and was leaning more towards hostility. He clutched at his face in a vain attempt to make the twitching cease.

"Potter, if you don't quit that fucking twitching, I am going to kill you," he hissed in his irritation. "What are you so bloody tense about, anyway?"

"I'm not tense," he replied through clenched teeth. "And quit holding your face. You're attracting attention."

"Maybe I wouldn't if you would just quit. That. Fuck-ing. Twitching," he growled.

"Shove it," he spat.

"Up your ass, Potter."

Ron sniggered in front of them. Though the remark had come from Draco, he had to admit it was a good one. (He and Harry had been fighting again and any low blow to his best friend was a welcome one, especially from Draco.)

"Something wrong, Ron?" Harry asked, his teeth still clenched.

Ron coughed and turned around. "Not a thing, Harry," he sang in his faux-innocent voice. "Why? Should there be?"

"Better fucking not," he grumbled. Ron turned around. Draco grinned. "Knock it off, Malfoy."

"What?" His tone imitated Ron's and the redhead sniggered again. "Hey, Weasley, what's up with him today?"

Turning around again, Ron looked beyond confused. "Er... What?"

"I said, what's his problem today? He's kinda twitchy and..."

"Acting like he came in his trousers in front of Snape the other night," he told Draco in hushed tones, fighting off laughing.

Draco burst into gales of laughter. Ron was going to die before the day was out if Harry had anything to say about it. He pinched the inside of his own thigh. Draco yelped but didn't stop laughing.

t;Yot;You've- you've got to be- fucking kidding- me," he gasped.

"That's what George said," continued Ron. "Said he screamed and everything."

"Ron, you are such a dead man," Harry started as he stood up.

Snape chose that moment to enter the classroom in all his billowy, black glory. Harry flushed to the shade of death, as did Draco, and both fell completely silent.

"I would appreciate you taking a seat, Motteotter," the professor said without looking at Harry as he passed. "Your composure is rather more imperative today than it was the other night. Please open your books to page 763 and note the instructions that-"

Harry was fuming. How like that greasy bastard to make fun of him in front of the entire class. And on a Monday morning, no less. As though the day wasn't bad enough just being a fucking Monday, Snape had to go out of his way to make sure he was completely aware of it. Well, he wouldn't be spending any more time with the man to do research or anything else for that matter. He'd just go to the library with Draco from then on, he decided.

Beside the silently enraged Gryffindor, Draco sat grinning from ear to ear. Seeing Harry in such a state always brought a smile to his face, despite the fact that he preferred to be around him when he wasn't. It would wear off by the time class was through. It always did.

"-you can manage. You may begin." Snape finished his lecture and the students all went about getting their ingredients, tools, and cauldrons ready.

"You don't have to be so grumpy about it," Hermione said over her shoulder.

"Yes, I'm sure it happens all the time," Harry sneered.

"Here," Draco said, giving Harry a mortar, pestle, and a few lavender flowers. "Take your aggressions out on this."

"Thank you," he spat as he took the tools from his partner. The grinding motion was definitely soothing, but it would take a lot more than a few silly lavender flowers to take away his anger.

"You know, Harry, just because you're-" Draco started.

Harry cut him off. "Fucking pissed, Malfoy. Stop talking. I'm in no mood today."

"Oh, I'd say you were in quite a mood," Hermione noted to no one in particular without turning around.

"See. Thank you," Draco said. He was busy cutting up ginger root but wasn't really getting anywhere with his dull knife. "Hey, Weasley?" Ron turned around. "Can I borrow your knife?"

"Sure," he replied, happy to be able to assist. Assisting Draco didn't seem to bother him, much to Harry, Hermione, and Draco's surprise, but it would squick Harry, so it seemed like a good idea.

Draco grinned. "Thanks."

He had decided in about a split second that he would make friends with Ron if it was the last thing he did. Mostly because he wanted to know what else had happened the other night, but their friendship could be beneficial in a multitude of ways. He could figure out how to irk Harry like never before. Might even figure out how to get in his trousers...

He mentally slapped himself at the thought. He didn't want in the boy's trousers. All right, so he did, but he wasn't about to start trying anytime soon. He would wait patiently until Harry decided to pull his head out of his arse. Or not so patiently as the case may be. Either way, he'd bitiniting. Besides, he thought, he didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression, what with him having slept with Fred Weasley the other night.

"I'm so glad to see that you can powder lavender with such precision, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled as he hovered over them. "How well can you slice belladonna?"

Harry took the knife from Draco's hand and started cug upg up the dark blue leaves without looking at the man. He was getting unnerved at his professor's unwavering gaze but managed to slice the leaves into perfectly even, thin strips.

"Very well," Snape said. "Five points to Gryffindor."

He blinked. Since when did the man give points for basic skills? To Gryffindor? Then again, when he looked at Blaise -who was sitting at the next table over- he was struggling to hold his knife still. There was a small pile of discarded ingredients beside him. Well. So not every Slytherin was a wiz at Potions. He grinned.

"What?" asked Draco. Harry pointed to their least favourite person. Draco smirked. "Ha. Serves the bloody wanker right. Maybe he'll pay more attention next time instead of thinking he's all that."

In front of them, Ron sniggered. "Ron, you're gonna die," Harry stated.

"He was merely agreeing with us," Draco said. "If he didn't, then you would have cause to kill him."

"Mm," he hummed skeptically.

"Harry, do you even know what we're supposed to be doing?" the blonde asked as he cautiously eyed the rather large pile of belladonna.

"Making a potion."

"What kind of potion?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"That's quite obvious. If you put that much of the stuff in it and then used it, you would die. Very quickly. Most people don't find death that arousing."

"What?" He had totally missed Snape's lecture.

"We are making a combination prophylactic aphrodisiac," he stated, irritated at his partner's lack of attention.

That pissed the Gryffindor right off. "We're making. What?"

"Prophylactic means birth control. Aphrodisiac means arousal. You do the math."

"Fuck off."

"No thanks. Snape seems just fine with having witnessed you make a fool of yourself," he replied jovially. "You can put that lavender in now."

Glaring, Harry dumped the powdered flowers into their cauldron while Draco stirred it. "You know, Malfoy, there was a very good reason I didn't tell you what happened."

"Yeah. You didn't want to catch a load of shor ior it," he laughed.

"Very good. Now tell me what I'm going to do to you when we leave class."

"Pinch yourself."

Despite his irritation, Harry couldn't stop himself laughing. The whole situation was absurd as all get out and even he couldn't deny that it was just as amusing. Between Draco's good-natured mockery to Snape's planning an entire lesson around him, the whole thing was stupid and hysterical. So he laughed and decided that the sour mood wasn't really very necessary after all. Ron was still going to die, of course, but he'd brought that all on himself.

"Now, listen closely because if we have to try the stuff out, I don't wanna wind up six feet under," Draco said as he turned to his partner, holding a splayed hand up to illustrate his point. "Only five of those little strips go in. Five. Not that whole pile, okay?"

"Draco, I'm not retarded, despite what you might think," he stated as he threw in five strips of belladonna leaf. "Why are we adding this, anyway?"

Draco sighed and covered his face with his hands. "God, you're hopeless. Belladonna works as a hallucinogen, Harry."

"Oh, so it makes you think your partner is attractive?"

"I don't know who you're shagging, but if you need to put a bag over their head first, you might want to reconsider," he replied as he scattered the ginger root over the top of the liquid in the cauldron. "Then again, you can't be too picky."

"Look who's talking," Harry muttered.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, dear."

"That's what I thought." He glared at the darker boy.

"I meant that you're picky. I didn't mean you shag those who require bags."

"Mm."

"Really."

"Mm."

"You're kinda cute when you're angry."

"No, I'm totally, sodding adorable when I'm angry. I'm cute all the time."

"And you're modest, too."

"One of my finer traits, if I do say so myself." He grinned. "God, I love squicking you."

"I never would have guessed," he replied wryly.

As Draco went about stirring the cauldron and adding the last few ingredients, Harry studied him. Each movement he made seemed more graceful than the one before it. He was concentrating very hard on what he was doing and his brow furrowed. He stared intently into the bubblcaulcauldron as though he was willing their potion to come out correct. His feathery, blonde hair was falling around his face and into his eyes so that he had to push it away every few moments. He was really a very attractive individual, Harry thought. Very beautiful.

"Stop staring," Draco said offhandedly.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he looked away. He didn't notice that the other boy was smiling broadly. He busied himself with taking notes.

The rest of class went by without incidence. Snape awarded another twenty points to Gryffindor for Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco had all gotten their potions correct. He even half-smiled at Harry. He dismissed class not long thereafter but as they were on their way out, he called for Harry to stay back.

"Guess I'll catch you up," he said, signifying that Draco should go on with Ron and Hermione. They left him alone with their teacher, albeit a bit reluctantly. "Yes, Sir?" he asked ascautcautiously approached the man's desk.

"Have a seat," he said as he gestured at the table nearest his desk. Harry sat on the edge and waited expectantly. "Have a nice weekend?"

"Er... kinda sorta," he replied hesitantly. He could practically smell the lecture coming on.

"Mm," he hummed through pursed lips. "I will spare you a lecture today, Harry, but only because I'm sure that you know exactly what I mean."

"I do, Sir," he replied, relieved.

"I do hope that this isn't going to change our research schedule," he continued, leaning back in his chair. "Because I think I have a new idea."

"Oh? What?"

"Well, I've done some thinking about this and I think that if we brewed the potion again, we might better understand what we're dealing with. Keep in mind, of course, that it will take three days -nonstop- to complete. I've already discussed this with the Headmaster and he agrees that it would be worth a shot."

Brew the potion that ruined his life? "But we're already bonded, Sir," he stated. "It won't work."

"I never said we would be using your flesh or blood," he said rather quietly.

"What do you... No, Sir. No. Huh-uh. No. No way. Forget it."

"I would be willing, Harry," he added, stopping the boy from walking away. "I will not be consuming it, but I think you figured that one out on your own." Harry nodded and smirked. "I don't have another volunteer, however."

"I can find one. I know I can."

"Who knows?"

He sighed. "Hermione."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Smart girl," he said offhandedly. "Figure it out on her own, did she?"

"Draco told her."

"Ah."

"I'll talk to her about it."

"I was thinking we could begin this Friday. If that will work for you."

"Of course."

"Get on with it, then," he said as he waved at the door. "And don't be late."

"Like Hagrid cares," he laughed. "Thank you, Sir."

As he walked to Care of Magickal Creatures, Harry considered Snape's offer very seriously. He had volunteered to help him brew the potion and even to add his own flesh to it. Just so that he, Harry, could understand. So he could know. Harry wondered if the man knew what he would potentially be getting himself into. Of course he was Potions Master, but Harry doubted that even he knew the full extent of creating the mixture. It was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. He could be linking himself to another forever if something didn't go right. He was willing to make that sacrifice for him. And as he walked, his elation at the offer dwindled into fear of the unknown and shame at having doubted the man.

"All right?" Draco asked when he'd arrived to class.

"No. No, I'm really not," he replied as he continued staring at the ground.

"What happened? Did he give you hell or what?" he pressed.

"Ah... Not exactly, no. He... shit, Draco."

"What is it?" His voice was soft and soothing. He reached a hand out to touch Harry's arm in a reassuring sort of gesture.

"Hold on." Leaving Draco alone, he went to where Hagrid was explaining the general care of unicorns to the assembled students. "Hagrid?" he interrupted. "Would you mind if Draco and I took off for a few minutes? We'll be right back."

"Uh... Sure, 'Arry. Yeh can use me cabin ef yeh wan'," he replied, concern etched into his visible face.

"Thanks. We won't be long." He ran back to the blonde boy and dragged him off to the cabin. "You won't believe this, Draco," he said as soon as he'd shut the door behind them.

"Believe what? What happened, Harry?"

"Okay. So... He says we can brew it," he said quickly.

"He what?" he demanded. "He said what?"

"And he volunteered his blood," heed. ed.

"He didn't."

"Oh, yes he did."

"Fuck. Why?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I guess he just..."

"We can't. No. We can't, Harry," he said almost pleading with the Gryffindor. "We can't. No one deserves this, even voluntarily."

"He's not going to drink it. He's just going to brew it so we can analyse it."

"I don't fucking care, Harry, it's too dangerous," he insisted. "One drop of the stuff could ruin his life. I won't do it. No."

"We need another person," he continued as he began pacing the room. "Hermione would do it."

"Oh, no. Don't even think about it. I won't let it happen. Hermione is NOT going to get involved in this, Harry. I won't allow it. Just forget about it."

"But we could figure out how to undo it," he said.

"There is no way to undo it. You know that. Not even recreating it is going to change that and I'll be damned before I let Snape or Hermione or anyone else do something that fucking stupid. No, Harry. Forget about it. Just forget it." He turned away and headed for the door.

"Please, Draco," he half-sobbed in his desperation.

"What happens if something we didn't take into account goes wrong?" he asked as he folded his arms across his chest, assuming a battle-like stance. "What if Snape and Hermione wind up bound like we are? Huh? Did you think of that? We're having enough problems adjusting; just imagine how they would be."

"But what if, Draco, what if there is a way to undo it?"

"There isn't," he insisted. "I wish there was, but there's not. I've spent thousands of hours in the library and everything points to the same thing. There. No. No. Going. Back. None. I've already ed aed at every possible option. Every ingredient can be countered, but not once they're combined. I already did the research and I've tested my theories as well as possibly I can. There isn't another option, Harry. There just isn't. We're stuck and I'm not allowing anyone else to become stuck in the same way. What-if's don't mean shit to us anymore. Besides, it's illegal as fuck. We'll never get approval."

"From who? The Ministry? They don't even know about this. They d hav have the first clue. Potions are hard to regulate and Dumbledore already said we could. Snape already asked h-"

"I said no and I meant no." He sighed and his expression was the very picture of sadness. "Harry, believe me, if I thought any good could come of it, I would do it in a heartbeat. Please?"

"Draco...."

"No, love. We can't. Would you want Hermione to go through what you're going through?"

"No."

"Snape?"

"No."

"Then please lets forget about it. Come on. Hagrid's waiting."

"God, Draco, I just... Please. Please."

"Harry, I'm only going to tell you this once, okay? I don't want to know. I don't want to know what my father did to us. I already know more than I want to. God, I just... I hate him and I'm afraid that if I go ahead and do it, I'll do something I shouldn't."

"Like what?"

"Commit fucking suicide, Harry," he stated flatly. Harry was taken aback quite visibly. "Yeah, that's right. I've been fighting the urge every single day since it happened. I threw out that poison I had, you know. I've never thrown anything like that away. Do you know that that vial was worth at least six thousand Galleons?" Harry inhaled sharply. "Yeah. I'm not exaggerating. That's how potent and illegal the stuff was. But I threw it out."

"Should have sold it," he mumbled.

"Yeah, probably," he agreed. "But then I'd have had to go in for questioning as to why I had a vial of the most potent poison known to all of mankind. I didn't feel like trying to explain that to the Minister of Magick."

"I don't blame you."

"Listen, Harry, it's not worth the risk. It's not. We can learn to live with it because we have to. I don't want to force it on anyone else."

"I'm not going to change your mind, am I?" he sighed.

"No," he whispered.

"May I ask you a question?"

"You can do whatever you want."

"Will you answer me honestly?"

"Why would I lie? It's not like you won't find out eventually, anyway," he drawled.

"Would you undo it if you could?" he asked without taking his eyes away from Draco's.

That was the one question he hoped he would never be asked. Because he knew the answer and didn't think that Harry would like it. "No," he whispered, casting his eyes down and turning away.

"Why?"

"Would you?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"I asked you first."

"Because with you... I don't have to be anything I'm not," he answered almost inaudibly. "I don't want to go back to my father, Harry. I don't want to go back to that." He looked up at the other boy. "You don't understand what it was like."

"I'd like to," he said very simply.

Draco snorted. "No, you don't."

"I want to understand but you won't let me and it's frustrating me beyond all belief."

"What do you want me to say?" he sighed, sitting heavily into a chair. "You don't want to know, Harry. It's bad. Sick, disgusting, twisted, bad."

"How bad?"

He held out his left hand. "This bad. You know what I did to deserve this? I dropped a glass on the kitchen floor." Pulling up his sleeve, he showed Harry his scar. "And this one? I got caught sneaking into the forest."

"My god..."

"Yeah. And Voldem-" He stopped abruptly. He would not divulge that secret.

"What about Voldemort?" Harry whispered as he kneeled before the other boy and took his hands in his own. "You can tell me anything, Draco, I promise."

"I can't," he said. "I- I just can't."

"Why not?"

"Because... it's really bad, Harry. I don't want to think about it."

"Draco... Please?"

He shook his head insistently. "No. Maybe someday, but not today."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

"I wanna get to class now," he told him as he stood. Harry laced their fingers together and they walked to the door. "You're not going to ask Hermione to do it anyway, are you?"

"No," he sighed. He was planning on it, but Draco just had to make sure his loose ends were all tied up.

"Promise me you won't."

"I promise I won't ask Hermione to bond herself to Snape," he half-laughed. "God, does this get more and more ludicrous everyday?"

"Pretty much."

They joined the rest of the class but only half-listened to Hagrid's lecture. Both were too busy worrying about the other. Periodically, Harry would squeeze Draco's hand and glance at him in concern. He wondered what the blonde was thinking about. He doubted it was feeding unicorns or anything else of that nature. He suspected he was not thinking of ways to off himself.

"Draco," he hissed, grabbing his attention.

"What?" he hissed back.

"Smile."

He raised an eyebrow. Harry smiled. He grinned. "You're terrible."

"I know."

*****

After having battled himself for the better part of the evening, Ron finally left the common room. He'd been wanting to talk to Draco for over a week, but the opportunity had yet to arise. So, instead of waiting for it to present itself, he took the initiative and headed toward the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

"Hi, Cadogan," he said. He'd learned that pissing him off wasn't going to get him anything but sent back to the Fat Lady. "How are you today?"

"Wonderful!" he cried. "Feeling like slicing up some rogue-"

"Well, you'll just have to wait for Colin, then," he said quickly. "Ahm... Do you think you could get Harry for me?"

"And what for?" he demanded.

"So we can snog till the cows come home. Come on, Cadogan, I really need to talk to him."

No sooner had he finished talking than the door opened and Draco poked his head out. "Oh, hi," he said. "Hold on a sec." He turned back but Ron's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Actually, it was you I wanted to talk to," he said reluctantly.

"LIAR!" Cadogan screamed. They ignored him.

Draco looked skeptical for a moment. Finally, he said, "All right."

"Can I?" he asked, gesturing at the doorway. Draco stood aside and allowed him to pass. "Thanks."

"Mm. What's going on, then?"

"Hiya, Ron," Harry said as he looked up from his homework.

"Hi, Harry."

Draco sat down on his bed and gestured to the other chair at the table, which Ron sat down in. "What's up, Weasley?"

"Er..." He glanced nervously at his best friend. "I... I heard what you were talking about in class," he whispered.

"Oh." Draco gulped.

"And I... well... so you didn't have to ask Hermione... I thought-"

"Stop right there," Draco said, holding up a hand.

"Look, I just-"

"No. We've already discussed this. Just forget about it."

"Forget- Fuck you!" Ron shouted as he jumped up. "How can you say 'forget it' like it's nothing?!"

"Because it's done, Ron," Draco said as though he was talking to a small child. "I'm sure you're just trying to help, but-"

"What? My help isn't good enough for you?"

"No, I just don't want anyone else's lives to be ruined," he stated. "Get out if you disagree."

"I talked to Snape," he told the blonde very quickly.

"You. Did. WHAT?" Harry demanded.

"I talked to Snape and I told him that I'd help and-"

"You asshole!" screamed the other Gryffindor.

"Oh, no, Harry," Ron warned. "Don't even. You're the one who's fucking lied to me for the last six months so don't even make it out like I'm the one who's at fault here."

"You went behind my back, eavesdropped on my conversation, pretended that you didn't, and then you talked to Snape? Get the hell out of here!" He pointed at the door.

"Harry, sit down," Draco told him very calmly.

"Don't tell me what to do, Malf-"

"Sit. Down. Harry." Harry sat down. "You owe him an explanation." He pointed at Ron without looking away from Harry's nearly black eyes.

"Oh, and I suppose you're so fucking upset that I didn't tell him, aren't you?" he spat.

"I couldn't care less, all things considered, but if I were you, I'd be making a stronger effort at not alienating all my friends!"

"Oh, and you're such the expert on the subject." Harry rolled his eyes. Ron looked close to panic.

"Well, clearly I'm not as ignorant of it as you are since I've managed to make some new ones over the last few months."

"Ah, yes. How dare I forget. Hermione and Colin. Wow. Good job, Draco."

"You prick!" Ron shouted as he jumped up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sit down, Ron," Draco muttered in warning without looking away from Harry. "You don't want in the middle of this."

"Yeah, well, I'm fucking sick and tired of being lied to and pushed off to the side!"

No sooner had Ron finished speaking than Harry lunged at him and knocked him to the floor. He sat on his stomach, sobbing and pounding on his chest. "Fucking ass," he cried. He threw his glasses but Draco caught them before they hit the floor, his seeker's reflexes showing through.

"Harry," Draco whispered in his most comforting voice as he wrapped one arm around his shoulders and used the other to hold onto his arm. "Get off of Ron." He pulled Harry off of him only to have him collapse into his arms a moment later, sobbing hysterically. He ignored the tears flowing from his own eyes, difficult as it was.

Ron looked up at them from his position on the floor. He looked hurt, dejected, beaten. His best friend had turned on him when he'd offered his assistance. Hell, he should have been the one screaming and the only thing that kept him from doing just that was the lecture his twin brothers had given him two weekends previous. They had told him everything. Well, not exactly everything but it had been plenty. It made sense, anyway.

"I think you better go," Draco said, his voice cracking on the last word.

Silently, the redhead nodded and stood up. He cast a worried glance at Harry before making eye contact with Draco again. He nodded once, laid a hand on Draco's arm, and headed out the door.

"I wanna fucking die, Draco," Harry sobbed. "I hate myself I hate my life I hate me."

"Harry, stop crying and listen to me." The Gryffindor looked up, his green eyes bloodshot and brimming with unshed tears. "It's okay. It's fine. Okay? We all say shit we don't mean, okay? It's nothing to get upset about."

"But-" His breath caught in his throat and they both coughed. "But I... I can't believe I just did that. I didn't mean to get so mad. Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me? What's happening to me? I don't know who I am anymore and I don't know what I'm doing! Since when was I a... a... Since when was I Sibyl?"

"Who's Sibyl?"

"She's got like ninety some odd personalities," he sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Draco laughed. "Two or three maybe, but not ninety something."

"That's reassuring."

"By comparison, hell yes!" Harry looked like he was going to start crying again. "Love, what's going on? Hmm?"

"I'm just so... URGHHH!" He tore at his hair. Draco flinched. "FUCK! I don't even know how to control my own actions anymore. I don't know how to control my mouth or my fucking brain or anything, Draco. URGH!"

"Stop pulling your hair; it hurts."

"Sorry."

"I blame Sirius," he stated happily.

"You would."

"Well, multiple personality disorder is contagious, right?"

Harry laughed despite himself. "Not that I've ever heard. Oh god. I can't believe I hit him. He's going to pound me."

"No he's not; 'cause I'll pound him."

Sinking to his knees, a few more tears fell from his eyes. He shut them tight. "God it hurts so bad." He wrapped his arms around himself and laid his forehead on the floor. "Draco, will you please find that vial?"

"I threw it away. I told you that."

"Find. It."

"It's. Gone."

"Where?"

"Down the Potion's drain."

"You really dumped it?"

"Yes. I really dumped it."

"You really shouldn't have."

"Says the boy who is constantly insisting that suicide isn't the answer in so many words?"

"Piss off."

"Piss yourself. Christ! What is this? You wonder what the hell is wrong with you, say you've got multiple personalities, and then turn around to do it again?" he half-shouted in his frustration.

"I'm sorry," he whispered back.

"I think we should go talk to someone, Harry."

"About?" Though he already knew, the question was involuntary. Or an attempt at ignorance. He wasn't too sure which.

"I'm worried about you." Harry snorted. "I'm dead serious. This has been going on for way too fucking long. I can't live like this anymore."

"Neither can I."

"Then lets please talk to someone. I'm sure that Dumbledore or-"

"I'm not talking to Dumbledore," he interrupted.

"Will you talk to Snape?" Silence answered him. "Please, Harry? Hey. I've got an idea."

"Do tell." The sound was muffled by the fact that he was still crouched down with his face on the floor, but Draco could still hear the sarcasm.

"Come on, lets go outside."

"I don't wanna."

"Come on," he demanded, pulling Harry to his feet. "Where's your broom?"

"In the shed with the rest of the brooms."

"Lets go. I haven't flown in a long time." He handed Harry his glasses. "Here. I don't want you crashing."

But Harry just put the glasses in his pocket. In the last six months he hadn't noticed that he no longer needed them, but now that he had, he decided he wouldn't wear them all the time. They were a pain in his ass, anyway.

Draco dragged Harry out to the Quidditch pitch, silence laying between them. When they arrived, the sun was beginning to set and no one else could be seen. Draco looked around and tapped the lock on the broom shed with his wand. It sprang open and he immediately found Harry's Firebolt and another school broom.

"Wanna see if we can swipe the Snitch?" he asked, grinning.

"No."

"Spoilsport."

"No, I just don't fancy Madame Hoo-" he watched Draco take off "-ch getting pissed," he finished with a sigh and a wistful smile. "If I didn't love you so much, boy, I'd kill you," he muttered to himself as he mounted his broom.

Wind whistling by him always sent him into that same state of euphoria and this was no exception. He flew in a tight corkscrew about fifty feet into the air before diving back down. In the split moment before he would hit the ground, he pulled up and shot halfway across the pitch, laughing at the top of his voice. He'd practically forgotten about Draco, who was hovering and watching him from above the faculty box, a smile firmly in place.

"Oi!" he shouted to the Gryffindor. He waved and Harry flew up to him. "Can I have a go?" he asked, gesturing at Harry's Firebolt.

"Yeah, sure." Hopping down into the stands, he dismounted and held the broom out for Draco. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the broom and gave Harry the other one. "Just be careful. I don't want a broken body."

"Never fear, my love." He grinned. "Thanks."

Those ancient school brooms had nothing on that Firebolt. Hell, his old Nimbus Two-Thousand and One didn't even come close to being as nice as the Firebolt. Increasing the force just slightly, he jetted forward and howled as he spiraled to the ground. He'd come an inch closer to it than Harry had and pulled up not a moment too soon.

"Wow," he laughed to himself. The Wronski Feint had escaped him on a lesser broom. No wonder Harry always caught the Snitch, he thought. That broom was bloody unstoppable. If he'd had a Firebolt he could have beaten Harry at Quidditch. Hands down.

Weaving in-between the stands and goal hoops, Draco was little more than a blur. Harry had been quite impressed at the Feint the other boy had executed. He was quite impressed with his flying, period. While they had been rivals and opposing seekers Harry had not allowed himself to acknowledge Draco's skill. Grace marked every movement, no matter how minute, and made him feel slightly inadequate.

Pulling the Snitch that he'd received as a gift from Hermione for his last birthday out of his pocket, Harry grinned evilly to himself. He mentally willed Draco to come back, and he did, much to his surprise.

"Fuck, Harry," he panted, grinning from ear to ear. "I like this broom."

He held up the Snitch and Draco's grin widened. "Think you can catch it?" he challenged.

"Is this a trick question?"

The silver wings started beating and Harry let it go. Draco hovered a few moments longer until it was out of his sight before he began flying around. Without thirteen other players in the air, it was a lot harder for him to concentrate on his task. When playing a game, he could focus his entire person on onsk bsk because that was all he was needed for. The temptation to attempt another feint or corkscrew nearly overcame him when he spotted it.

It was across the pitch. He leaned forward with all his weight and shot forward. A split second later, he was hovering in front of the applauding Gryffindor, struggling Snitch in hand.

"See," he said as he beamed.

"I do. Very nice."

"Thank you, thank you." He bowed, still on the broom. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at the golden ball in his hand.

"Go right on ahead."

The Snitch flew off again, Draco not long after. That boy was in his element. Harry laughed as he watched Draco spiral upwards, eyes squinting against the rush of wind. He darted in a zig zag pattern, toying with the Snitch. He could have caught it fifteen different times but had flown in the opposite direction as soon as he'd spotted it.

Suddenly, Harry found himself very sad. Had Draco given him all those opportunities to win voluntarily? Unlikely as the idea was, it seemed to make too much sense. Most likely, it was not a conscious decision so much as it was... What? A subconscious desire to give Harry what he wanted? If the idea had been presented to him a few months ago, he would have said it was impossible. But when George had told him thatco wco was in love with him...

That was his private turning point, he realised. It was most likely the reason Draco had been making such a valiant effort at accepting the situation. Then he thought about the infirmary. Draco had visited him when his arm had been mutilated.

'I'd like to get used to touching you,' he'd said.

Hot tears stung Harry's eyes. Immediately, he wiped them away. He didn't want to cause Draco to crash.

'If you'd let me.'

The voice echoed in his mind, taunted him, told him he wasn't worthy of Draco's attentions. And it was at that moment that he made up his mind. Sibyl he had certainly been but determined he would be no longer. His mood swings would have to be controlled from then on. He would make a conscious effort. He'd make sure he was worthy of the pale, blonde boy.

"Twice in a row!" Draco exclaimed as he flew up to Harry, the Snitch held triumphantly above his head. His grin faded when he saw the pained look on Harry's face. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Why?"

"You look like someone just kicked your dragon," he said, half-grinning nervously.

'Someone did that a long time ago,' he thought. He smiled then, unable to refuse Draco's contagious good mood. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"Ahh." He nodded sagely. "That explains it."

"Come on. Lets go in. I'm kinda hungry."

"I know. So am I."

Harry met Draco on the ground and they locked the brooms back in the shed. The Snitch was safely in Draco's pocket and he fondled it as they walked.

"So, do you always carry a Snitch with you?" Draco asked.

"Well, yeah," replied Harry as though Draco was below average intelligence.

"Well, oh," he said in the same tone. "Thanks for letting me ride your broom. Er... fuck it, Harry," he said when the boy had started laughing. "You've got the stupidest sense of humour. Have I ever told you that?"

"You're just as bad as I am," he replied, taking Draco's hand in his. "You're a pretty good seeker, you know."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah. Er... May I ask you a question?"

"One that's less rhetorical?" he asked with a grin. "By all means."

"Why did you avoid it?"

"Avoid what?"

"Well... I just get the impression that you were intentionally dodging the Snitch instead of trying to catch it."

"I was."

"Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of dismissal. "Drag it out."

"It's not much of a challenge for you, is it?"

"Mm. Not really, I guess. I never really thought about it. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was just thinking that if you really are that good, you should have kicked my ass ten thousand times over," he explained, tentatively watching his companion out of the corner of his eye.

"You made me nervous," he stated simply. "I mean, I was so pressured to beat you and that was all I heard all fucking season, you know? So I guess I just... put too much into the competition that I forgot that you're supposed to have fun."

"You didn't have fun?"

"Not as such, no." Lucius' lecture came to his mind. "'You let Potter best you again? Lazy, no-good excuse for a seeker! I buy your team new brooms and how do you thank me? You let him win. Stupid boy!'"

"What?" he demanded, stopping dead. "Is that what your father told you?"

"After every match," he replied.

"You know that man isn't worthy of the dirt he walks on, right? He's fucking stupid, Draco. I can't believe he'd treat his own son like that! God! What is wrong with this stupid, fucking world, anyway?"

"If I could answer that, we'd never have to worry about another thing for as long as we live," he laughed. "It's okay, Harry. It's done. I'm done with it. Lets just go to dinner, huh? Fuck Lucius, anyway. He's not worth worrying about."

"Why... why did you used to defend him like that?"

"It's amazing what one can do when one doesn't acknowledge reality." He sighed and threw himself into Harry's arms. "I don't know. I wanted to believe he was really cool, I guess. I guess I just wanted him to be like a real dad, you know? Everyone else's dads seem like... well, like they do things for their kids because they like to and not because it'll get them a special position or whatever. It wasn't ever about making me happy. It was just about power and money."

"And when you've got money, you've got power. God, I'm so sorry, love."

"Shit. I don't wanna feel sorry for myself." Pushing Harry just slightly, he detached himself and held his hand again as they continued on to the castle. "Sorry. I don't know. I just can't get him out of my mind lately. I can just see him sitting in his chair in his study kissing Voldemort's ass like there's no fucking tomorrow and it... URG! It makes me so sodding angry. He'd rather kiss that slimy piece of shit than not hit me. I hate him. I hate him. I want him to go to fucking Azkaban and sit there and rot and I want them to bury him alive. God, I hate him. That's all I can think about sometimes. These pictures are always running through my mind.... Watching him scream and sit in his own blood and piss... All I want is for him to know how fucking bad he hurts me and how bad he hurts you and I want to kill him for it. Aaarggghhh! I want to kill him. I want to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze 'til his eyes pop out of his head an's g's gasping and he's blue and... Talk about something else because I'm gonna lose it if I think about him anymore."

"You should ask McGonagall if you can be on the Quidditch team," he said, having not really listened to Draco's tirade. If he had, he would have found it damn near impossible to talk about Quidditch. "You'd be awesome."

"I can't. I'm not a Gryffindor."

"Your points go to Gryffindor."

"Yeah, 'cause those pieces of shit in Slytherin can go fuck themselves sideways," he growled.

"So why can't you play on the team?" he asked.

"Well, you're the seeker, you know."

"You're better than me."

"I'm not taking your place. Forget about it. I've got enough stuff to keep me busy, besides," he added offhandedly in the hope of distracting Harry's train of thought. "Colin's showing me how to tone pictures tomorrow."

"Cool."

"Yeah. I just hope I don't fuck up an entire package of paper before I get one right. That stuff's bloody expensive, you know."

"I'm sure you won't fuck up too bad, love," Harry laughed, pulling Draco closer to him. "Give yourself a little more credit than that."

One of Draco's arms wrapped around Harry's waist. They had been growing steadily closer since their weekends with Fred and George had come and g Tha That second weekend when Harry had gone to the Burrow had been rather quiet and Draco had only been too grateful. He didn't want to get close to the twins like that anymore. Not that he disliked them; not by far. He just didn't feel right about it anymore. He felt as though he was being unfaithful to Harry even though they weren't exactly a couple. When their encounters had started, it was mutual satisfaction and they gDracDraco something that no one else ever had. But he found that what they gave him was what he wanted from Harry.

Little did he know that Harry was thinking almost exactly the same thing. His complaints were more with the idea of anyone other than himself touching Draco than they were about those people being Fred and George. He loved them in a thousand different ways and with all of his heart, but not one of those ways was even remotely close to what he felt for Draco. And that was why he found he didn't like the three meeting in the middle. So to speak.

Just outside the castle doors, Harry stopped. Draco had managed to get another pace or two in before he'd realised that he was walking by himself and stopped. "All right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then why are you whispering?" he whispered.

"I didn't know I was."

"You are. And you look so sad, love. What's the matter?"

"I'm not sad at all," he said, smiling softly. "I was just thinking how much I love you." He felt himself pale instantaneously. Those words were not the words he'd intended to say.

"I think we should go inside now." There was no emotion evident in his voice. He just stared through Harry a moment before turning into the castle.

As soon as Draco was through the doors, Harry could see the inside of the Entrance Hall in the back of his mind. Finally he started breathing again and concentrated on getting control of himself. That was going to cause a hell of a fight when they got back, he thought. Draco sat down between Colin and Ron, an empty seat between them. Ron said something to Draco, but he either didn't answer or whispered it because he could only see him through Draco's peripheral vision. Colin was watching the exchange with little interest. Draco picked at a roll.

"That was really swift, Potter," he mumbled to himself. "And now you're talking to yourself again. You need some psychiatric help." He giggled in a sinister fashion. "Snape would love to hear that: the Famous Harry Potter's a few beers short of a six-pack."

"That's nothing new," Snape's voice drawled from behind him. "Are you skipping dinner or just out for fresh air?"

"I was just heading in," he said as he watched the professor approach from the direction of the lake. He fell into place beside him when he had reached the place where Harry stood.

"Dare I ask what has brought on this sudden assessment of yours?" he asked, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Your being a few beers short of a six-pack, that is. Famous Harry Potter."

Despite himself, Harry smiled. How very un-Snape like to make a joke. "Mm, no I don't think you dare."

Snape held the door open after he was already through it. "In that case, I shall not press mattmatter. Evening, Potter," he finished as he headed off to the staff table and Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"What're you smiling about?" asked Ron when he'd sat down.

"Snape made a joke," he replied, laughing. With his knee, he nudged Draco under the table. "Sorry," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"You better be," Draco mumbled back at the same time Ron said, "Damn right, you are!"

"But ya' know, Ron, youra only guy I know who got to lay under bofe Harry and Draco," Colin piped up.

"That's not something I would be all that proud of if I were him," Hermione mumbled under her breath. Across from her, Ginny snickered and she smiled. "All right, so I would," she hissed at the other girl. "Shut up abou, al, already."

Harry, Ron, and Draco all sat staring at the girls in shock. Draco was the first to recover, a golden opportunity to make Harry jealous right in front of him. "So, think I'm sexy, do yeh?" he asked, cocking his head and smiling seductively.

Hermione grinned, for the question was directed at the Weasley girl. She blanched. "Er... I meant..."

"Go on," he cooed. "Just admit it."

"Admission is the first step to recovery," added Ron. "And you will recover."

"In that case, I d I don't," she told her brother. Draco looked crestfallen. "And completely off the record, that is a blatant lie." She went back to eating, occasionally looking up to glare at Hermione.

"What about you?" he asked Hermione. Harry was pretending not to have noticed.

"What about me?" she replied without looking at him.

"You want me. Say it."

"I find you dead sexy, Draco," she drawled condescendingly. "I do not, however, 'want' you. Ginny, on the other hand..."

"Hermione, you are going to die a very slow and hilarious death when I tell the twins exactly what you've done to me tonight," she warned in hushed tones.

"See, Draco," said Harry when Hermione had finished speaking, "she wants Ginny. Not you."

"The truth comes out," Draco muttered, stifling laughter.

"Of the closet," added Ron and all the boys promptly burst into fits of laughter. Most everyone in the Dining Hall turned to the Gryffindor table, but soon gave up when they figured it was just the Trio's antics again.

"You are neither funny nor cute," Hermione stated, glaring at the boys.

"That's not what I heard," Ron ied,ied, desperately trying to sober up and failing miserably.

"I'm going up to bed," Draco announced, tossing his napkin onto his plate. "Good night, kids."

"Wait up," Harry told him as he finished the remaining peas on his plate. He also threw his napkin down and stood up. "See you later."

Their friends at the table gave their goodevenings and continued eating their dinners, not paying much attention to the awkward way Harry and Draco were walking to the door. Not a single word was spoken until they were safely inside their room, when Draco finally decided to broach the subject of Harry's slip of tongue.

"So what's going on?" he asked Harry, arms crossed over his chest and an expression of slight irritation on his face.

"Nothing's going on," Harry replied without looking at his companion.

"Then I suppose that's why you suddenly decided to confess some sort of love for me?" he quipped.

"It was a slip," he murmured.

"Yes, I got that impression," drawled the pale boy as he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to fight right now." There was resignation in his voice.

"I don't want to fight, either," he said, crossing the room and closing the distance between them. "I just want to know what the hell is going on in your head."

"I already told you, Draco, it was a slip," sighed Harry. He turned to face his companion, a look of defeat all over his face. "What else do you want me to say?"

Only about ten thousand million different things, Draco thought bitterly. Instead, he muttered, "Nothing," and turned away.

"I could tell you I meant it," Harry continued. "But you'd just gessedssed at me."

"Mm."

As Harry watched his companion, he considered really telling Draco what he was really thinking. Deciding that things really couldn't get any worse, he took a br and and steeled himself for the worst. "I think I'm falling in love with you," he finally whispered. Draco's whole body went stiff and completely still, his back to the Gryffindor.

"You should have stopped when you were ahead," he mumbled so quietly that Harry didn't hear him. He sighed and turned around, but kept his head down. "You don't know what you're saying, Harry."

"I know exactly what I'm saying," he replied very matter-of-factlyuot;uot;I just know you don't want to hear it."

"Then why are you saying it?"

"Because I'm getting sick and fucking tired of the way it is with us!" he cried, his emotions finally getting the better of him. "We're always fighting and I don't understand why!"

"Because look at the fucking situation, you idiot!" Draco yelled back. His own anger was almost overwhelming, it having been bottled quite tightly for the better part of six months. "We're life fucking bound, Harry! We've got a horrid history! Every single time one of us opens our mouth the shit hits the fan! Honestly! If it's not me insulting you, it's the other way around and I don't think we can even be civil."

"We can be fucking civil, Draco!" he shouted back. "We can be fucking tops if you'd just let it happen!"

"Oh, sure," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "Wine and roses, Harry. That's us all the way."

"You don't even like wine and you think roses are boring," Harry spat.

A wave of laughter rushed over Draco when he considered the absurdity of the situation. "Oh, wait! That's the irony of it, isn't it?" he laughed.

"You're not funny."

"More like beer and cigarettes," Draco mused, flopping gracefully onto his bed.

"Coffee and cigarettes; beer and pizza," Harry corrected, smiling as he joined Draco on his bed. "That's more like what we are."

"Harry?" he asked, turning his head to face his companion.

"Draco?"

"You're not getting in my trousers."

"I wasn't planning on it, you fucking prude."

"Good thing. And I'm not a prude."

"Sure you're not."

"I'm just not a slut."

"I know."