Unlikely Beginnings

As they left Honeydukes, they found that someone had spilled some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans on the steps. Ron hopped over the entirety, and then held up his hand for Hermione to hold as she walked down them. She smiled to herself and took his hand, stepping carefully around the beans, and hoping she didn't slip and make a fool of herself. Even when she reached the ground, Ron held her hand. "Thank you," she said, and grinned at him when he lifted her hand up to give it a kiss.

"My pleasure," he replied, and they began to navigate the street back to the Three Broomsticks. They didn't see the cloaked men inside, or on their way to the tavern, and Hermione wondered again what they could have been doing. They had two ideas, one good and one bad, but she really didn't want to have to think about it. Not now, when she was supposed to be here, they were supposed to be here having fun, trying to forget about the stress of the past week.

That wasn't going very well so far, and they found an empty table near the far corner of the Three Broomsticks and sat down. They had just ordered Butterbeers for themselves when a few other students from their House came into the tavern and waved at them. Dean and Seamus came over to them, sitting down, Lavender and Parvati following. They started up a conversation with Ron, asking if he got any Chocolate Frogs, and if he wanted to trade cards tomorrow.

Lavender and Parvati didn't pay much attention to Hermione besides saying 'hello.' Hermione knew she wasn't one for much girl talk, only with Ginny, whom she hadn't seen all day except at breakfast. After Ron had finished saying something, he sat back in his seat, listening to them talk, just like he had at breakfast. Hermione wondered what he was thinking about, and the two of them mostly stayed quiet while the others talked. They laughed at jokes, but didn't really participate in the conversation unless spoken to directly.

It was a long day at Hogsmeade, and they had spent a couple more hours in the tavern before they went out to shop a bit more before having a snack for lunch. They had found Neville sitting by himself when they returned to the Three Broomsticks, and they went and sat down with him. "So, how did the homework go?" Hermione asked, always one for catching up on the homework gossip, even if she was the only one who gossiped about homework in the entire school.

"Good, I finished earlier than I thought," Neville smiled, before taking a drink from his mug. "I was going to come down after lunch, but I made it out before, thanks to Blaise. He's really been helping me this year, and even over the summer."

"That's great, Nev," Ron said distractedly, flagging down Madam Rosmerta to order something for lunch. He didn't want to think about Zabini right now, either, but he supposed the subject would change back to homework in a second, especially with Hermione there, and she didn't let him down.

What Neville had said made her wonder how long he and Blaise had been seeing each other, or how it began. Maybe she'd ask him some time, but right now he seemed to just want to have fun. He did look a little skittish, like he wanted to be somewhere else, and would gladly bolt if he saw his boyfriend across the room, but he seemed to be glad for their company, and she listened to the boys give Madam Rosmerta their orders, and then she did, too.

She'd never quite thought of Neville having a boyfriend before, but she supposed that's what it was. Then she wondered if that's how the two missing boys referred to each other as. Harry Potter with a boyfriend; no, it still didn't sound right, or really the first thing anyone would think about Harry. There were many other reasons to explain why he didn't go farther with Cho, or even try for Hermione or Ginny. Everyone knew Ginny had had a crush on him, which the youngest Weasley still blushed over if that fact was stated if Harry was in hearing range.

No one had ever thought, 'Hmm, maybe he's gay.' Hermione didn't have much experience talking about things like that, but she was definitely there for Harry if he wanted to talk to her about how he was feeling. This must be new for him, too, she thought, wondering how long Harry and Draco had been doing things together, or to each other. She'd never known anyone who was completely homosexual, and she wasn't attracted to girls at all, but she could support Harry with his choices.

After lunch, Neville walked down the street with them, and then they separated, wondering where Neville was off to now. They hadn't seen Blaise around, but maybe they were supposed to meet up somewhere. Now, it was more shopping and one more stop off at the Three Broomsticks to say hello to a few more people and goodbye to Madam Rosmerta, who asked how Hagrid was, since he hadn't been in lately. Hermione and Ron then headed back to Hogwarts.

@>*~

Since they'd eaten at Hogsmeade, they went straight up to their common room. After they were through the portrait door, Hermione made her way over to their usual study area and sat down in her chair. Ron joined her, and leaned back in his seat to relax. The smile she gave him was cut short by a sudden yawn, and she was surprised at how tired she actually was, especially since they hadn't done much except walk around all day. It was only mid evening, and it was as quiet as it was at three in the morning; obviously, no one else was back yet.

Ron felt himself start to yawn a few seconds after Hermione had, and he had to admit he was pretty tired as well. He closed his eyes as his yawn came out, stretching his mouth wide. Hermione was looking at him when he opened his eyes, and he said, "I'm tired. I think I'll turn in," before he stood up from his seat and walked around the table to Hermione. He leaned down until his lips were only a few inches from Hermione's before placing a chaste kiss against her lips. "'Night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ron," Hermione replied, smiling up at her friend.

Ron smiled back before straightening himself up and heading towards the stairs to the boys' dorms. Reaching the top of the stairs, he opened the door to the room he shared with Harry and the other seventh year boys. He didn't really feel up to showering before bed, as he was too tired, so he simply stripped down to his boxers and walked over to his trunk to grab his pajamas before heading on his way to the lavatory to brush his teeth. Once he finished brushing his teeth and washing his face, he turned the light out and walked back to his bed. He left the pajama shirt off, as it was warm enough in the room with the fire going, and he didn't think he would get cold.

It was dark in his room since he hadn't turned the lights on, and he slipped into bed. It took him a few seconds, but he noticed he wasn't alone in his bed. The beds weren't very big to begin with since they were made for only one occupant, although all the beds in Hogwarts had a spell on them to lengthen in size since most students grew in height when they were away for the summer and Dumbledore didn't think his students would appreciate having their legs hanging off the end of the bed just because they'd grown a few inches.

Shifting up onto an elbow, Ron pulled the blanket back to see who the intruder was. It was dark, and he really didn't want to see Seamus naked right now, hoping that it wasn't a case of mistaken bed identity. The rest of the boys from their year had gotten an older wizard to buy them alcohol, and they were probably not back yet because they were too tipsy to do anything but sit there and laugh. "Hermione!" he said when he saw his friend lying there. She moved to sit up more, and he just sat there in surprise. "What are you doing in here?"

It wasn't as if he really minded, but it was a bit different. Hermione lowered her eyes and sniffled, causing Ron to scoot closer and wrap his arms around her. "I'm sorry, Ron, but I'm still worried about Harry. I guess I just didn't want to be alone," she said. She hadn't started crying, but if she continued talking about it, she might. She rubbed at one of her eyes a bit, because she was tired, too.

Ron wasn't sure what to do right then, as he'd never really had much experience with a sniffling woman before. His own sister didn't really count, mostly because Ginny was his sister and it was his duty to make her feel better by cracking a few jokes, but he wasn't sure if Hermione would be in the mood for that right now. Plus, he was still kind of surprised to find Hermione actually lying in his bed. Ron thought of getting into Harry's bed, to be close to her and still have her feel like she wasn't alone, but he got the suspicion that would be defeating her purpose for getting into his bed. He didn't want her to be upset, and he rubbed her arm comfortingly. Ron sighed quietly before leaning them backwards a bit, to lie against the pillows. "Please don't cry, Hermione. I'm sure he's fine, even if he is with Malfoy."

Hermione snuggled into Ron's hug, placing her own arms around her friend's waist. She didn't realize she had placed one of her arms close to his hip since she was hugging him sideways. Ron swallowed nervously. He'd been attracted to Hermione since their fourth year and he suddenly felt a bit strange with her in his arms. Sure, they'd kissed but this was different, and it made him feel jittery. His damn teenage hormones were beginning to take a liking to having a girl in his arms even if they were only hugging, sitting innocently in his bed, talking about their best friend, for that matter. "I'm not crying, I'm just...I hope he really is okay. This could turn out very, very badly, Ron."

"I know, Hermione, but he'll be fine. I'm sure of it," Ron replied, hugging Hermione tighter to him. If Malfoy doesn't betray him first, he thought. He was brought out of his thoughts when Hermione sat up, and he suddenly became aware of them both being in a half naked state. He tried to push those thoughts out of his head, because, after all, she was upset, and he turned to look at her better. She seemed to be giving him an odd look, and he asked, "All right there, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled, leaning forward. "I am now," she said before she leaned the rest of the way toward Ron and placed her lips on his own. Ron paused a moment before relenting to the kiss, opening his mouth when he felt her tongue probing his mouth. He pulled her closer to his body until they were chest to chest, in the back of his mind he noticed that her breasts were pushed up against his chest and he decided he liked that feeling. He moaned softly into her mouth when he felt her hand trail down his chest, rubbing over a nipple as it slid. The past week seemed like it was leading up to this moment and he wasn't sure if he was happy or a bit scared that this seemed to be leading to something more than just light petting and snogging.

Ron opened his eyes when he felt Hermione pull away from him. "Hermione?" he asked, frowning slightly, wondering if he might have rushed into this whatever it was between them, even though it was Hermione who had initiated the kiss.

"Don't worry, Ron. I'll be right back," Hermione said reassuringly as she walked to the door and disappeared out of the room. Ron leaned back, berating himself for pushing himself onto her. She was probably just pretending to be nice to him and made an excuse to leave, gone to lock herself in the girls' dorms, away from big bad Ron. He sighed into his pillow as he turned onto his side. Stop putting yourself down, he thought, she likes you, just be patient and don't rush into anything.

Ron closed his eyes and waited, but he must have dozed off, because it must have been at least ten minutes later before Hermione returned, making her way over to Ron's bed again. "Ron?" she called out softly, moving a little closer to the bed when she didn't get a response from her friend. "Ron?" she tried again, but still no answer. Thinking he had probably gone to sleep, she settled herself down onto the bed and reached over to gently shake his shoulder. "Ron, wake up."

Ron had felt the dip in his bed, and he almost couldn't decide whether to pretend to be asleep, or not. If she had come back, like he was doubting, would she want to continue where they left off? His mind was made up for him when he felt her lean over him and place a kiss onto his cheek before lying down next to him. There wasn't a large amount of room, but he didn't want her falling off the bed, so he scooted over some, which in turn let her know he was awake. "I'm awake," he stated, since he couldn't keep the ruse up now, especially since he had just moved voluntarily.

Hermione kissed him once more on the cheek before settling herself down for the night. She had pulled the blanket up to cover herself, and tucked the edge under her arm. Ron stayed in the position he had been, on his side, when she had settled herself into his bed and he saw that she had changed into night clothes, and he couldn't help but notice she didn't pull the blanket up all the way over her chest. He swallowed heavily when he realized what exactly she was wearing. It was a light blue, almost sheer nightgown. He couldn't tell if it was long or short since she had slipped under the covers before he had seen, but he was definitely able to see the way it cupped her breasts. And what nice breasts they are, too, he thought, before shaking his head of the thought. It wouldn't do to let her know how much he liked her night attire since he was almost flush against her backside. It was really the only way they could share the bed without one of them falling over.

He continued to stare at her breasts, almost squeaking when he noticed he could make out her nipple through the sheer material. Before he could say or do anything, he heard Hermione say, "Ron? Lie down, it's cold." He hastily did as she wished, feeling cheeky enough to want to suggest that it must indeed be cold, if the evidence of her breasts was enough to go by. He wasn't sure how she would have reacted to that, and he was enjoying being with her. He wasn't going to let seventeen years of his lewd older brothers ruin this night for him. Hell, the whole day had been great.

Ron lay there for a few minutes, unmoving, feeling himself blush at the situation they were in. He had never really slept in the same bed with a girl before and wasn't sure what he should do. He sighed softly and caught the fragrance of Hermione's hair. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the flowery scent coming from her. It was not only nice and girly, but also seemed to fit Hermione's personality.

He moved a bit, trying to get himself comfortable without falling over the edge of the bed, or knocking Hermione out either, and wound up placing his hand on top of her hip. She didn't seem to mind, as she didn't move at all, so he left it there. Although he wasn't sure what he should do now, since he didn't want her thinking that he was trying anything with her, but before he could change his mind and get up to go to another bed, he heard a soft 'hmm' come from her. Feeling a bit encouraged, he began to slowly stroke her hip with his thumb; nothing overtly sexual about it, just enjoying the feel of someone else next to him. Even though the material of her nightie seemed to be made of a sheer fabric, he was only a little surprised to find that it felt like silk under his hand. Without really thinking about it, he began to move his entire hand along her hip, enjoying the feel of her body and the silkiness of the material under his hand.

Hermione sighed softly as she felt Ron move his hand more and more along her hip, and little did she know, she was pushing back against him ever so slightly. Wanting to feel his hands over more of her body, but not sure of how to ask him, she turned over so that she was on her back. It made Ron scoot over a bit so she had room to move without any accidents. She smiled up at Ron as he continued to rub her leg. He'd paused, but the smile she gave him made him feel okay about what was going on, and his hand slowly drifted to rub her thigh. She raised her arm up and hooked it around his neck, pulling Ron down to her so she could kiss him. He let himself be guided and kissed her back, feeling her tongue lick lightly along his lips until he opened them enough for it to slip inside completely.

Ron moaned again at the intrusion and pushed his own tongue into her warm mouth to reciprocate the gesture. Neither of them quite realized where Ron's hand was going, but the sensations resulting from it caused their kiss to deepen, and become hungry. Ron's hand continued to trail down the top of Hermione's thigh, and he really wasn't paying attention to where his hand was so close to, he just knew he wanted to feel more of her skin and hadn't noticed that she had also parted her thighs a bit. He felt a bit bold, so he moved his hand under the nightie. He was planning on just rubbing his hand lightly along her covered sex, and nearly gasped in shocked surprise when he discovered that she wasn't wearing any knickers.

Ron pulled back to look into Hermione's eyes, leaving his hand where it was, not sure if he would be able to sleep if he couldn't go farther. He wasn't going to be a prick about this, but it was hard to think with something other than that in this kind of situation. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping that she knew what he meant so he wouldn't have to go into detail. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to do it, and he felt a little bad about her being more experienced with this than he was, but if he had to pick someone to do this with for the first time, it would definitely be Hermione.

"I'm sure," she whispered, pulling Ron back down to her to resume their kissing. Ron wasn't so sure, and his kiss relayed that to the girl beneath him, but Hermione wanted him to enjoy this as much as she would. She thrust her tongue forward, teasing it against Ron's tongue, against his lips, and pulling back ever so slowly, coaxing him to deepen the kiss into her own mouth. She was rewarded when he did, but a moment later, she began to pull away, shifting upwards into a sitting position. Ron frowned at her, his hand still in between her thighs as he really hoped he hadn't done something this time to warrant her pulling away, but before he could voice his worries, Hermione began to move.

Ron watched in surprised pleasure as Hermione reached down to the hem of her gown and started pulling it upwards and over her head to remove it completely. Ron had looked away instinctively, after all, this was his best friend. His best friend that he was falling in love with, if not already there. Shyly, Ron looked over Hermione's nude body, the lower half still mostly under the blankets, but he could see her breasts, and they were so beautiful to him. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and smiled at how she started fidgeting under his intense gaze, and he leaned forward to kiss her lips gently.She smiled back at him when their lips parted, and she felt herself relax more now that she knew what he thought of her body. She would have liked to pride herself on being self confident, but when it came to things like this, physical attributes, it was a lot different than just being clever. Ron shifted and settled himself between her legs, placing soft kisses along her jaw before moving to her neck. Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron's back and pulled him down further until he was flush against her chest.

He moaned at feeling her naked breasts pressing against him, swearing he could feel her nipples hard against his chest. Ron moved his head back to look into her eyes, and slowly closed the space to capture her mouth in a slow kiss. They'd lost count of how many times they'd kissed tonight, but once again she parted her lips, accepting his tongue into her mouth, moaning into him as she felt him grind his erection into her thigh. Hermione couldn't help but push against it; she was getting a little restless. She loved the attention he was lavishing on her, all along her neck and shoulders, but she really wanted more, and hoped that he did, too.

She unclasped her hands from around his back, and moved one down between them, searching until they came into contact with the waist band of his pajama bottoms. When she felt the top of them, she slipped her first two fingers underneath the elastic, and shuffled them down as much as she could without either of them moving, and the fact that he had about six inches over her in the height department. She was only able to get them down just past his behind before she couldn't reach anymore, and didn't want to wait.

Ron hadn't noticed what she had been doing until he felt his trousers being pushed down, and then he lifted himself up so he could look down at her face better, and down between their bodies, too. He searched her eyes for any sign that this had gone too far, but she only smiled and nodded, with the most heart warming look in her eyes he'd ever seen. Merlin, he'd really fallen hard for this one.

In a way that wouldn't jostle the bed around too much, Ron sat up briefly and placed his hands at his waist, slowly pushing the last of his clothing off of his legs, and dropping them behind him on the bed. Now, he was just as nude as Hermione was, and he hoped to god he'd interpreted her actions correctly. "Okay?" he asked, still unsure.

"Perfect," she answered, lying back down and spreading her legs apart. Ron looked a little nervous, but moved to lie back on top of Hermione. She sighed in pleasure as she felt his own naked body pressed against hers. It had been a little over a year since the last time she had been intimate with a boy, but the fact that it was Ron made it worth it. She did feel a little regret at having given her virginity to Viktor, considering they hadn't even stayed together longer than a week after they had sex, but there was nothing she could do to change that, so she vowed to put it completely out of her mind. Besides, she had Ron with her now, and hopefully she would for a very long time, if he'd have her.

Ron trailed kisses along Hermione's neck, pausing to suck lightly at the juncture where her neck slipped down to meet her shoulder. Hermione moaned in pleasure, arching up slightly against him as she ran her hands over his back, which oddly made her consider paying more attention to Quidditch. If it gave him muscles like that even on his back, it certainly wasn't as bad as she previously thought. Hermione almost froze when she felt Ron's erection slide along the side of her thigh, leaving behind a trail of precum in its wake.

Smirking to herself, she moved her right hand from Ron's back and brought it down to his stomach. She smoothed her hands over his belly, and soon went lower, searching for his cock. Ron tried to hold back the excited shudder it sent through him when Hermione's hand bumped into his cock, and he hoped he didn't embarrass himself when he let out a moan when she wrapped her hand around his length. He'd stopped kissing his way down her chest, still a bit tentative about touching her, and he was really hoping to get his mouth on her nipples, but now he had other things on his mind. He leaned his head down, resting it beside her neck as he savored the pleasure he was receiving as she stroked her hand over his cock. "I'm going to come if you keep doing that," he mumbled against her neck.

"Sorry," she whispered, and he could tell she was smiling as she removed her hand and placed it once again on to his now sweaty back.

"S'okay." Ron lifted his head to look down into her eyes, which looked just as they had before. "I just don't want to come yet." Hermione nodded her understanding and pulled Ron's face toward hers once more, thinking that kissing him was soon going to become an addiction. A few moments passed and Ron moved his right hand from behind Hermione's head to trail down her body. He stopped his hand's exploration when it came in contact with her sex. Hermione continued kissing Ron as he moved his fingers into her. Ron wanted to pull back and comment on how wet she was for him, but he figured that might sound a bit clichéd, so he opted not to.

Hermione gasped into Ron's mouth as she felt his fingers enter her. Ron thrust two of his fingers a bit, enjoying the warm feel of Hermione around him. He would have kept it up a bit longer, but Hermione grabbed his arm, halting his movement. "I want you," she whispered up at him.

Ron shuddered at the huskiness of her voice, full of want, and maybe she wouldn't think he'd sound stupid if he'd said everything that was going through his mind at the time. Removing his fingers from within her, he raised himself up some and looked down at Hermione. "Are you sure you're sure?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling up at him, amused. He was so sweet, despite the temper tantrums she knew waited for a perfect time to jump out and make him act like an idiot; he was her idiot now, though. With a nod, Ron swallowed, and reached down to steady his cock, lining it up to her body. He breathed in before pushing forward, and Hermione moaned in pleasure as she felt him enter her body. It felt wonderful to have her friend, boyfriend?, inside of her. Ron shivered and had to pause to keep himself from coming at the feel of her warm wetness surrounding him.

After a moment, Ron leaned back down on top of Hermione and began to thrust slowly at first, before picking up speed. Hermione hooked her hands over on to Ron's shoulders as his thrusting became faster and faster. She began panting, and rocking her hips back against him, and pushed her head back against the pillows when he made a particularly hard thrust, making her insides quiver. She knew he was being gentle, not wanting to hurt her, but she didn't say anything, letting him become comfortable with this. Next time would be better, and she smiled at the pleasure running through her body as well as the fact that there would definitely be a next time.

Ron was quickly approaching his orgasm, and he had wanted to last as long as possible, to make this last as long as possible. He had no idea if he was doing this well enough, but judging by the sounds his lover was making, he had a pretty good idea of how he was doing. It was his first time, and he had to admit it wasn't going to be absolutely perfect. Looking down at Hermione, so beautiful lying there beneath him, panting and moaning as he thrust hard one last time before he felt his orgasm ripped from his body.

He laid there on top of Hermione, though mindful not to squash her. It was hard to forget, when her breasts were heaving against his chest while they both regained their breath. Hermione hugged Ron to her, shuddering from a few after shocks herself, and feeling wonderfully sated. Ron moved from off Hermione and lay down on his side, facing her when he felt her shift a bit under him. They smiled shyly at each other, having shared something with each other that was both exhilarating and exciting. Ron leaned over to give Hermione one last kiss before his breathing began to even out, and he drifted off to sleep. Hermione smiled at Ron before sitting up to close the curtains around his bed, just in case the others came back before she woke up. She was too tired to move right now, so she snuggled into Ron's warmth and fell asleep next to him.

@>*~

Ron shifted in his sleep, and let a frown crease his forehead as he tried to block out the noises he was hearing, not yet able to distinguish them from either being a dream, or if he was waking up. Finally, he decided just to open his eyes when the noises didn't go away, but rather got louder, and voices started to sound. He saw the heavy dark fabric of his bed curtains, which he hadn't recalled closing all the way. Ron usually left them half open on the side facing towards Harry's bed; it'd become a habit since the first few times years ago when he'd gotten tangled in the curtain when he jolted out of bed to wake his friend from a nightmare. Squinting in the dim light within the curtains, he sat up in bed, or tried to, at least, but found he was being held down.

Turning his head to determine the restraining item, all he got was a bunch of hair in his face. He pulled back and blinked his eyes slowly, realizing that he wasn't alone in his bed. Suddenly, everything that happened the night before came crashing back to him, and he really hoped he hadn't simply gotten drunk with the other boys and had a very pleasant dream. Ron's gaze moved lower, and he saw the blanket was down around both of their waists, leaving him with an eye full of creamy, smooth-looking skin, and some very nice breasts pressed against his side. Ron smiled down at Hermione, who had tilted her head to look back at him. It wasn't a dream, then, Ron thought.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron laid his finger over her mouth before she could voice whatever thought she'd had, and softly whispered, "Shh." She nodded, and belatedly heard the voices coming from the other side of the curtains, from all directions. Reaching down instinctively, Hermione pulled the blanket back up to cover her body, just in case one of Ron's roommates decided to pull back the curtains and wake him up. They certainly would be in for a surprise, she thought. Ron sat up fully, and dug through the jumble of clothes and bed covers at the end of the bed to find his boxers and pajamas. He pulled them on as best he could, though they were a bit twisted around the waist.

Ron pulled the curtain open infinitesimally and slipped through it, making sure it was closed behind himself so that the other boys didn't see his girlfriend. His girlfriend? Ron smiled at that, and happened to be staring right at Seamus Finnigan. "Morning, Ron," Seamus said, smiling back at Ron, whose mind had snapped back to the present situation, but it certainly left him with a happy feeling inside.

Making his way to the chair next to the other side of his bed, the opposite one he'd gotten out of, Ron picked up his bathrobe. "When did you guys get back?" Ron asked, trying to seem casual as he held the robe in his hands, ambling around to the side of his bed he'd slipped out from.

"'Round five this morning, I reckon," the other boy answered, turning to grab something from his trunk. Ron took that moment to stuff the robe through the curtains to Hermione. "Dean and I were out drinking all night." Seamus grinned when he turned around, pulling a shirt over his head before continuing. "I was three sheets to the wind, mate; I don't even really remember much."

Ron chuckled along with his roommate, and nodded at Dean when he came back into the room from the lavatory. Great, Ron thought, how was he going to get them out of here so Hermione could leave? If he was able to get them to leave, she wouldn't have to walk to her own dorm so obviously wearing Ron's bathrobe, not to mention them all watching her get out of his bed. Hermione, though, had to hold her hands to her mouth to keep from giggling. She'd sat up on the bed, cross-legged, and was waiting for a sign that she could leave without walking past all of her male classmates. She wasn't ashamed of being caught in Ron's bed, if that were to happen, but she had no idea what she'd say to them, and definitely knew she would blush.

They weren't really a public couple, and only a few people had seen them kiss, or sit close enough for rumors to start. Hermione didn't want them to think she did this for all the boys, just jumped in bed with them after a couple kisses. To be honest, it would seem like it was too soon for them to have gone as far as they did, but Hermione knew, deep down, that it had been the right thing to do. After all, it was Ron; she smiled. "Ron, you seen Hermione lately?" Dean asked when he walked into the room. It'd gotten brighter in the room, due to the rising sun shining through the window, and Hermione watched the boy's faint shadow through the curtain. "Lavender said she wasn't in their room last night, or this morning; wonder where she is."

When Ron heard himself addressed, he was about to say, 'what?' but the question that followed made him pause. Before he could recover and give Dean an answer, or make a stuttering fool out of himself by trying, Neville beat him to it. "She's probably a-at the library," he said loudly, drawing their attention. "She told me she wanted to get started on working on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. You know Hermione," he said, giving a weak grin, "she likes to get an early start on her studies."

"Maybe," Seamus agreed, tying the last bow on his shoe before standing up. "Well, I'm heading down for breakfast. I didn't get much to eat last night."

"Yeah, you were too busy snogging Dennis in the corner last night," Dean said, laughing, and stood up beside his friend. Seamus rolled his eyes and they both made their way towards the door, still chatting. Ron knew that neither of them really would care where Hermione was, only if she was in danger, but she wasn't. The two boys had more important things to talk about, like their love lives. Seamus and Dennis Creevey had been dating on and off for over a month now, and was it really Seamus' fault that every once in a while he liked to have a good snog with his lover?

Dean kept laughing, following Seamus out the door, still taking the piss out of the other boy. Ron, however, preferred to keep his love life to himself, shaking his head when he heard Seamus defend himself with, 'you're just jealous I get some on a regular basis and you don't.' Ron was about to say something to Hermione as he bent down to grab another pair of underwear when he realized that Neville was still in the room. He stood up and smiled nervously at the other boy. "Aren't you going to get something to eat, too?" Ron asked hopefully, shifting from one foot to the other.

Neville smiled at him, then ducked his head. "I... um. I know Hermione's here," he said quietly, not wanting to alarm either of them, Ron or Hermione. Hermione heard what Neville said, though, and she smiled to herself as she wrapped the front of the robe around herself. It was too big for her, but she didn't care; she only pulled the extra material up and smelled it, reminding her of the boy she'd just spent a great night with.

"Oh," Ron squeaked, wishing for once his voice wouldn't sound like someone had kicked him in the bollocks. This might be the time to stand up for his girlfriend, but before he could say anything, Neville got there first, again.

"Don't worry, Ron, I won't say anything," Neville replied, smiling before he grabbed his bag from the end of his bed and walked towards the door, shutting it after himself. Ron sighed out a breath of relief when the door clicked shut. He knew Neville wouldn't say anything to anyone else, especially since he was seeing someone that not all the other Gryffindors would approve of. Ron still thought it was weird, for Neville of all people, to be dating a Slytherin, but as he became more familiar with Blaise, and Ron would even go as far as to say 'getting to know' him, he had to admit that maybe he had been wrong about all Slytherins being evil prats, though it was a far cry for him to think Malfoy was anything more than that, and a dirty ferret, to boot. Not even Malfoy could ruin his day today, though, and he went over to his bed and pulled back the curtains.

"They're all gone," he said to the messy-haired girl sitting on his bed. Hermione looked up to see his face, and they both smiled, seemingly all they could do at the moment. She unfolded her legs and stuck one over the edge to touch the floor, and stood up from the bed, taking Ron's proffered hand for support. They walked like that to the door of the seventh year boys' dorm, and Ron opened it to look out. He stuck his head into the hall and made sure no one was lurking outside. The coast was clear, so he opened the door all the way, letting Hermione pass through. She stepped past him, and then turned, standing up on her toes to reach him, and gave Ron a quick kiss to the lips. Hermione leaned back and smiled again before she started down the hallway, heading for the girls' dorm. Ron grinned after her and turned to start getting ready for the day, very glad of the fact it didn't seem she regretted what they'd done the night before.

@>*~

It was early Sunday morning when Remus was hurrying down the stairs to the third floor from his office, trying valiantly not to drop the few papers he was trying to shove back into the pages of a rather large book. He could very well have taken the book back to the Restricted Section at another time, but he had a lot of things to do today, and didn't feel the need to waste any time scurrying up and down staircases just for one item. Managing not to walk into anything while his head was down, and thankful that it was Sunday morning and no students were about, Remus shut the book holding his papers, and continued down the halls to the Headmaster's office. After many requests for a private conversation with the elder wizard, Lupin was rewarded with this scheduled meeting, for which he refused to be late.

Those many previous requests had been brushed off by the Headmaster, not even giving Lupin much of a chance to speak before he was waved off. Albus only gave him the same short answers each time they were alone, but those excuses were starting to wear thin. Lupin had to give the man credit, though, for doing all the things he did, managing all the things he took care of. The last time Remus had requested a meeting, Albus had been rummaging through several books on his desk at the time, researching Merlin knew what. Remus' curiosity got the better of it, and he was about to ask, but then thought better of it, since the Headmaster had all but forgot he was there, having already agreed to a meeting the next morning.

Lupin wasn't quite sure of what time this morning Albus had meant, but he didn't want to find out from McGonagall where the Headmaster had whisked off to after breakfast, so he'd chosen a time well before breakfast. It was half six in the morning, and Lupin was almost out of breath by the time he got to the last corridor to Dumbledore's office. He walked at a normal pace down the last stretch, as opposed to the bordering on jogging he'd been doing all the way down there, which had still taken ten minutes. He had no idea how the students made it to classes on time with all this running around, in crowds, with many distractions, no less; he marveled that he had once done it himself, but he had more important things to think on right now, rather than old memories.

He spoke the most recent password he knew for the golden statuary gargoyle, and was glad to see the figure begin to turn with a dull scraping sound, exposing the spiral staircase concealed behind. Lupin darted up them, waiting impatiently for more to be revealed so he could get to the hidden half-floor on which the Headmaster's office was located. Once in the hallway, he knocked on the wooden door, and waited. It clicked open gently, and he took that as his cue to enter the room. "Sir," he said as a greeting when he stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind himself.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, and there were still several books laid out on his desk, now void of the various trinkets that usually resided around its edges. Lupin walked to the desk, taking a seat in an armchair in front of it, and set his book down on his lap. Dumbledore didn't look up, but rather flipped a page, gazing at the words written on it. Lupin honestly had doubts that these books had anything to do with the reason Harry was missing. They seemed to be some type of medical books, judging from the diagrams he could see, and the spines on a stack of books at the corner of the desk. He really didn't want to think too much on that, though, not quite content to think, and still trying to convince himself out of thinking it, that Harry was sick in some way, and that Dumbledore knew all about it.

Lupin cleared this throat, and Dumbledore looked up, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. Oh, how that would infuriate Remus, if he wasn't such a passive person. Remus knew, or at least suspected, that Dumbledore knew more than he was saying, and hopefully Remus would find out in this meeting, since that was what it was for, to begin with. If Dumbledore knew something important, something that could help save Harry's life yet again, and was not actively doing anything to seek out the boy to provide such active help, he certainly didn't look very worried about it.

The old wizard breathed in deeply as he sat back in his chair, folding his hands together on top of the open book lying on his desk. "Yes, yes," he began, nodding, "Harry is presumed missing." It grated on Lupin's nerves to hear the obvious stated, and he knew he shouldn't even begin to get frustrated right now. He'd spoken to Dumbledore enough over the years to know that this would go somewhere more often than not, if it was serious, which it was. "Telling students he is away on errands no longer satisfies their curiosity."

Lupin nodded. He had had several uneasy classes, some with even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and they obviously knew something was not as it should be. The Slytherins were a bit more easy going about this, since Harry Potter was gone, and they seemed not to care less about it. They seemed the same as always, if a bit more reserved, most likely due to lack of cues to laugh from their missing Seeker's shots at the equally missing Gryffindor. The rest of Harry's house mates obviously noticed the most, but it was the younger years that seemed frightened. No doubt they had gone through their years at school hearing all about Harry Potter and what he'd done before and after beginning his years at Hogwarts, and most of them still believed there to be something big, dark, slimy and scaly living in the school. As long as Harry was there to protect them from it, they had nothing to fear.

The seventh years took things in step, almost knowingly, but there was worry throughout them all, even the Slytherins. No one seemed to know where either boy had gone, and those who were close to them were barraged with questions, as was Lupin, being Harry's guardian, albeit he was approached least of all, and usually only by Gryffindors closer to Harry. He'd find Ron and Hermione later today, and relay the things they needed to know about their best friend, but first he had to find things out for himself. "What have you been doing?" Lupin asked, knowing it would both get him some answers as well as facts he wasn't already privy to.

"I've been making sure everything is safe for the boys," said Dumbledore, leaning forward again, and closing the book he had open, sliding it off to the side a bit. Lupin thought the old wizard was going to sigh for a moment, and noted that the Headmaster did look very tired; whatever it was that had been taking up all of his time lately had taken a toll. "Not knowing even remotely close to what route they might have taken, it would be near impossible to keep tack of them, to keep them out of trouble."

"So, you're waiting for them to find trouble themselves?" Lupin asked. It did sound like the situation that these two particular boys might get into when left to their own devices, and having gone looking for trouble in the first place. He had to admit it made a strange bit of sense, but it was a risk, definitely.

Dumbledore smiled softly, pushing up more lines in his old face. "Aurors associated with the Order that are on holidays from the Ministry have been alerted, and are searching abroad for anything relating to the boys. They are as safe as they can be, until they reach their destination." Lupin nodded again, and despite having been adamant about this meeting, he really didn't have much to say, and his eyes roamed over the books on the desk as he made sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

A title of one of the books caught his eye, Magical Gestation and Its Side Effects. Remus' brow began to furrow, and he looked up to the Headmaster, who was watching him carefully. "Remus," he began, looking the werewolf in the eyes, "there are things I know, and things I do not. I will not interfere with Harry's journey, but I will give aid when I can, and when it is asked for. As for the things you do not know, I believe it wise for Harry to tell you himself, though you are an intelligent man."

The frown had faded from his features, and Remus had to take a moment, and a much longer time span later on, to reflect on what his mind was insisting was happening. "I do believe," Dumbledore began again, thankfully not letting Remus' mind wander too far, "that I will ask your assistance before this is over." He sounded serious, almost grave, and Remus knew he was about to be leveled with something important. All he could do was nod again, and he excused himself from the Headmaster. There wasn't much more to say, and Remus couldn't seem to get his thoughts straight at the moment. What made it worse, though, was that he somehow knew that Albus had suspected the meeting would go this way, with Remus leaving with his thoughts tangled up.

Oh, well. Lupin sighed when he was outside of the office, and facing the golden statue again. Once he was down in the main hallway again, he began on his way towards the library to drop off his book. Then he had to make his way down to the dungeons and into Snape's office. That's what his papers were for, some notes for things he was going to be teaching this year, and needed some Potions supplies for various things he wanted to show them. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to collaborate between the two classes, and Snape was still suspicious about it. He wanted Lupin's job, no doubt about that, and even Snape didn't deny it. He didn't quite understand why Lupin would want to have anything to do with his classes, or if he was simply trying to curb his curriculum into things easier for the duller students to catch on to.

Remus still tried, though, but regardless of how that went over personally between the two of them, he still needed some ingredients. First of all, he needed Snape's help to find the damn things, since Remus had no idea where to look in the Potion master's stock room, or even the shelves that lined the classroom. He'd just leave the lists and outlines on Severus' desk, so Lupin didn't lose them in the mess of papers that was his own desk. Most students who'd come into his office had been surprised to see the mess, and it boggled Hermione's mind. Apparently, she had thought he would be so articulate and neat about his space, like he was in the classroom. He had too much to do to prepare for class and look into things to satisfy his own curiosity that had nothing to do with school work.

So, his desk tended to become a mess, and a subsequent black hole for any important papers to become very adept at the game of being elusive. He'd had to ask for several copies of the permission slips to register books taken out of the Restricted Section of the library, and Madam Pince was definitely not happy about that. He nodded to the old vulture-like woman when he entered the library, and gestured the book in his hands towards the back, where he was taking it straight to the locked section. Merlin only knows what time she got up in the morning, or went to bed at night, or whether she even slept at all, opting rather to guard her precious horde of library books. Even Hermione rarely got up this early to hit the books, so Lupin knew he'd have to seek out her and Ron later on.

He thought it would be a good idea to keep them informed, so as not to lose another set of students to the lures of action and adventure. If they knew what was going on, or as much as anyone seemed to know, or as much as Lupin had figured out yet, perhaps they wouldn't feel the need to run off and try to save the day -- and Harry. If Dumbledore had people looking for the boys, that was good, but even he had no idea where Durmstrang was located. That put it at a bit of a moot point to go and try to find them after they'd had time to get there themselves, but then again, if they were hiding, which they most likely were, since neither of them was that stupid, it would be very difficult to find them after they got off the isle.

It would be a strategic advantage to find out where the castle was located, but that would be a mystery until they spoke to either of the boys. They all knew it was a definite bet that Draco was leading the way, but that wasn't the problem. It made sure that Harry wouldn't simply get lost in the middle of nowhere, though there was a potentially bad aspect of who was leading Harry. Lupin surely knew the reason for Ron's animosity towards the blond, as he did for the rest of the Weasleys, and many other people. No one had actually spoken the concern that no doubt everyone had thought of: was Draco leading him to Voldemort? Or, was the Slytherin simply trying to keep Harry from getting himself killed?

Lupin would like to believe the latter, but it was hard to tell. He'd been absent during the time the boys had apparently started their relationship. How they had managed to get together, Lupin couldn't figure out, and there wasn't anyone he could ask. There was obviously a reason they were going to see Snape, but for the life of him, Remus couldn't figure it out. If Dumbledore's books were anything to go by, it was definitely something medical. He stepped through the threshold into his classroom, and hardly realized that he'd walked all the way back there from the library. He looked at the clock at the back of the room, and it had been an hour and a half since he'd left for the private meeting.

His chambers were on the fourth floor, located past his office in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. There were a couple classrooms, actually, but this was the main one that he preferred to use, since it wasn't so far to lug books into. For all the years he'd spent living as a Muggle, he'd gotten used to doing things by hand, and he still hadn't quite gotten back into living as a wizard yet, despite it being almost five years. Lupin walked up the steps, deciding he needed some time to think before he walked all the way down to the dungeons. There were far too many stairs, corridors and every other type of thing that took a lot of walking in this castle, but he didn't mind. The chamber that now functioned as his living quarters was one of the few in the school that was on a corner.

Remus liked it because he could look out the window in the morning, or any time, really. He could always see the state of the moon from there, and he liked it, even though it wasn't ever a good sign for him. He wondered if that was how women viewed their impending 'time of the months', looking at their calendars, knowing it was coming. He smiled faintly as he walked through a short hall to his private rooms. Sirius used to call the time of the full moons Remus' time of the month. Sitting down in the chair behind the desk in his rooms, which wasn't quite as messy as the one in his office, Remus stared out at the early morning sky. It was a lot to take on for Remus, after the accident in the Department of Mysteries.

With James gone, Harry had been left supposedly in Sirius' care. With no one to help Remus during the full moons, he was in no shape to raise a child, and with Sirius in Azkaban, neither was he. At the time, Remus had thought it a good thing for Harry to be with his hateful relatives, rather than a man who murdered his parents, whether or not he was the boy's godfather. Remus knew that James would never have wanted Harry to be raised by the Dursleys, but that was, sadly, the way it had to happen. That was all in the past, though; yet without any of that happening, Remus wouldn't be the one who now had custody of Harry Potter. He knew the boy missed Sirius, and that he still blamed himself for what transpired, but there was nothing they could do now.

Harry hadn't stayed with Remus over the past summer, but this one coming up he would. Dumbledore had finally decided that it would be alright for Harry to leave the Dursleys, as long as he was never far from Lupin for very long, and if Lupin had to leave, or during the full moons, Harry would be at the Burrow. Harry hadn't had much to say about how he felt about living with Remus over the summer, and then having to face the fact that he was out of school, and would need a job somewhere. Lupin had talked to him, about Sirius, about James and Lily, and other things last summer, but Harry hadn't actually told him how he felt about being shifted off between all of his father's best friends.

Remus half expected him to say, "Who next? Peter?" The thought made Remus angry, and he let out a sigh, leaning his head back against the chair. No, Harry would never, ever have anything more to do with Peter Pettigrew than he had to. It was too much that he ever had to hear the man's name, or know that he was out there, planning Harry's death along with his master. It wasn't a good thought to think about dying, but it was a realistic thing, especially considering the ongoing war. He didn't think he could take it if Harry died before him, and just then, Lupin realized what Dumbledore would need him to do. He wanted Lupin to go to Durmstrang and help the boys make it back safely, along with Snape.

Snape was another thing entirely. He was so much different than Sirius, or anyone he'd ever known; and Lupin had barely known anyone from Slytherin in his entire life, not counting students and talking to Phineas over the summers, though the painting rarely ever wanted to talk to him. Mrs. Black tended not to yell as loudly at him, considering he was a Dark creature, so he even got a word or two that wasn't anything to do with screaming about blood traitors and scum. Lupin had taken over main residence of Twelve Grimmauld Place, since he basically lived there over the last summer anyway, and the one before that, and he would have stayed there with Sirius, if things had turned out differently.

He really wished things had. Harry would still have his godfather, and Remus would still have his last best friend. It was sad to think about, and he couldn't help but miss Sirius. They had lost so much time when Sirius was in Azkaban, and now they'd never get it back. The two of them had never had a relationship, per se, but it came close enough sometimes. There were many nights they'd sleep in the same bed, holding each other for comfort. Nothing had ever gone past the occasional, more intimate touches between the two of them, as they always had something more important to think about. That was gone now, and it hurt; it hurt a lot more people than just Remus, but he at least was going to try his damnedest to make things better for Harry. It was definitely what both of his friends would have wanted.

There was no one left for him to call much of a friend anymore, either. Tonks was the only one in the Order that could make him laugh, and really feel it. She cheered him up sometimes, and was usually the only one to notice when he was down, and he loved her for it. She was a great person, but she wasn't what Remus was looking for. Over the past two years, there had also been an awkward comaraderie between himself and Severus. They, aside from Kingsley, were the only two younger, male members in the Order of the Phoenix. Aside from their past differences and difficulties, they found it was almost impossible for them not to spend at least some time together, time that wasn't for business only.

It had started over last summer that Lupin had thought of the idea to combine small parts of their two classes at school. They didn't get along too well at all, by all means, no, but they still couldn't help but be drawn together. Believe it or not, and most people wouldn't even see the little things, they were a lot more alike than they would care to admit. Lupin saw it, but maybe it was only because he was looking too hard. He could admit he was lonely, and though spending the next summer with Harry was going to be fun, to have someone stay with him the entire time, to teach him many more things than were allowed at school, wasn't what he needed. Remus lifted his hands from his lap, and set them on the arm rests of his chair, and pushed himself up from the seat. It didn't do to dwell on his thoughts for the entire day, and he did have a few things to do before Monday's classes.

@>*~

After the two of them had woken up later that night, they had both gotten up from the bed and put the rest of their clothes on. It felt slightly awkward having slept in the same bed again, and having again ended up closer than they were when they'd originally went to sleep. Neither of them seemed to want to stay in the room; Draco paced almost imperceptibly, but Harry could tell he was in a bit of a mood. What mood, Harry had no idea, but when he suggested they go for a walk, or something, he was glad it seemed the right thing to say. Shouldn't Draco be the one being supportive of Harry's moods, since he was the pregnant one, after all? He supposed it just wasn't like Draco to actually know how to do that, but he still barely knew the other boy, so how was he to judge? They kept their hoods up after they left their room, and as they walked through the wizarding community. For all Draco knew, someone might recognize him, since he knew he had relatives somewhere in France, though he had no idea where.

It wasn't quite dark yet, hence the walk was killing time as well as preventing Draco wearing a hole in the rug in front of the fireplace. "We should get some food to pack." It was the first thing either of them had said since leaving the hotel. Draco almost made it sound like they were packing for a trip together, and Harry had to admit they sort of were. Together wasn't what was so strange about it, but rather where they were going. They'd been forced to do a lot of things together over the years, in hopes of lessening their rivalry at school, but they hadn't really worked. Sure, they'd have their moments, usually less than five minutes total, where they got along, but this 'trip' had severely broken that record. The thing was, though, would they be the same when they went back to school, or would they be how they always had been?

"Just in case we can't get a place to stay, or get hungry in transit," Draco clarified when he glanced over to see the odd look on Harry's face. He had been thinking about that, too, but in the back of his mind, since other thoughts had happened to come up. Draco had spotted a newsagent ahead, and he slowed as he began to reach into the bag, which was slung over Harry's shoulder, still covering his Gryffindor badge. Harry slowed as well, sighed, and watched Draco dig in the bag. The blond could have carried the bag, and not burden Harry with it; it's not like Draco wasn't strong enough, or would be willing to do it, it simply had become habit for Harry to carry it, since it covered his badge. First of all, Draco hadn't even realized he'd stuffed his personal things, such as his money, into the main bag. He'd had it in his pockets, but he must have put it in when he'd changed his pants. Yes, he'd brought a change of pants.

Draco grabbed hold of what he felt was his bag, pulled it out, and spared a glance at Harry's badge before meeting the other boy's eyes. "Come on," he said, and started walking, barely noticing that they'd both stopped completely. When they reached the store, Draco hesitated before going inside, and he quickly went about gathering non-perishable foodstuffs for them to take with them. There would be food at the hotels, Harry thought, but maybe if they got stuck in some remote place where there was strange food or something, it might be a good idea to have something of their own after all. He knew Draco was right, and besides, it would be a good idea to be able to have a snack whenever he wanted, say, in the middle of the night. He doubted Draco was taking into consideration any potential food cravings. Harry had been trying to remember all the things that pregnant Muggle women went through, from what he'd seen years ago on telly and in magazines.

It was one of the drawbacks of being pregnant, Harry thought, or was it a good thing? He supposed it'd only be bad if he craved something, then by the time he got it, he'd think it was disgusting; and it wasn't like he expected Draco to dart off and get him whatever he wanted to eat at the moment. Harry absently began rubbing a hand over his stomach as he watched Draco set a pile of things at the till, though still a small enough pile to fit into their bag, unless they were going to enlarge the inside of it. The worker glanced back from Draco to Harry, and looked curiously at Harry's stomach. Harry looked down as well, and jerked his hand down automatically. He wasn't embarrassed, but he didn't want everyone to think he was pregnant. Maybe she just thought they had the munchies or something, and that was what the tummy rubbing was for. It was still quite flat, though Harry could tell it was protruding slightly, down towards his groin. One wouldn't be able to notice unless they were close enough, knew as well, and viewed him from the side, and even then it might just look like a bit of a gut.

Harry vaguely heard Draco speak a bit in French as he conversed with the girl, and Harry turned and started for the door, going to wait outside for the blond. He supposed he should have waited for Draco, to let him dump an armful of food into the bag that he carried, but when Draco caught up with him, he had all of it in another paper bag anyway. The blond gestured for them to move away from right in front of the store, and they walked a bit down the street before Draco stopped and turned to face Harry. "Give me the bag," he said, and he pulled out his wand from its custom pocket on his robes, and then took the proffered bag from Harry, and set it down on the ground between them.

"Now what?" Harry asked, watching the other boy warily, not sure why he'd pulled his wand out, unless he was, indeed, going to enlarge the inside of the bag. Draco reached his right hand up to flatten the upper part of Harry's robes, and then pointed his wand at it. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco beat him to it, saying a couple words Harry didn't quite catch. A small bolt of clear, bubbly light shot from Draco's wand, and Harry felt it hit him, and almost was shocked to think Draco might be doing something to hurt or incapacitate him. Harry barely realized that Draco had leaned down and was adding the bag of food into the larger bag, and hooking it over his own head and shoulder. Looking down, Harry saw that Draco had turned his badge from Gryffindor to Slytherin. Draco had turned and taken slow steps away from him, obviously waiting for him to catch up; Harry did so, but he wasn't going to say anything about the change.

He'd never told anyone the Sorting Hat's first choice for him would have been Slytherin, but maybe Draco would have a little bit of respect for Harry if he told him. Harry wondered why Draco had picked now to take the bag from him, and change the badge. Was there something in the bag that Harry shouldn't have access to? No, that was just his paranoia of not being told things before it was too late flaring up, he thought bitterly. He'd carried the bag most of the time, so what else could it be? It's not as if Draco felt bad about him carrying it in his 'condition,' or maybe he did. "Okay, let's go," Draco said, interrupting Harry's thoughts abruptly, and before Harry could really focus on anything to respond with before the blond disappeared with a 'crack.'

Harry sighed into the evening air and closed his eyes, picturing Draco's face, his eyes, and the whole rest of him, hood up and all, though minus the bag; he hoped that didn't screw anything up, the worst time to be splinched was when you weren't even thinking of it. He felt the air around him displaced, and suddenly could feel the colder air even through his heavy, now Slytherin-badged, robe. When he opened his eyes, everything started to spin, and he tried to vaguely turn the opposite direction of Draco before he promptly threw up everything he'd eaten earlier that day. It was either Apparating in general that didn't agree with his body, to make him this sick, or it was something to do with the pregnancy. He didn't have an easily upset stomach on any given day, but every once in a while, if it got stirred up too much, like on a particular match of Quidditch where he'd spent a large amount of time spinning in Sloth Grip Rolls, it might just decide to rebel. This was different, though, and he really had to side with it being the pregnancy thing right now.

He was glad it wasn't an everyday occurrence when he woke up; he could deal with every other time he Apparated, but not every morning. Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it if that was the case. He was still on his knees on the pavement, and he tried not to look at the puddle of vomit, not that it would gross him out much, but just that it was preferable not to stare at it. Instead, he opted for watching the black dragon hide boots stepping into his line of sight. He looked up a bit, and Draco looked a bit disgusted, but he held out his hand. Harry took it, and stood up. They started down the street they were on, keeping their eyes out for any hotels to stay at for the night. Harry was glad at least one of them knew the way; he didn't think he would have liked an aimless road trip.

Harry was glad that Draco seemed to know what to do, or where to go. He assumed Draco had been here before, or at least in the area, if not the same place before. The first place that seemed to be a hotel looked at least as if it had been around for a few centuries. It wasn't quite falling apart, but it could definitely use a good sprucing up. As they walked down the path leading to the door where they were hoping to stay, a low growl caught Harry's attention. He looked off to the side and squinted slightly to see in the darkness. He saw the shapes of at least two dogs, perhaps German shepherds, who were lazing about under a big tree. He made a quick step to put himself on the other side of Draco, rather than behind the other boy, putting some more distance between him and the animals. They must have been trained to stay there and not bark at every person walking up to the door; they didn't seem to be tied up, either. Not only would they scare potential patrons, but they'd wake up ones already inside the establishment.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts once again when he felt a nudge on his shoulder, and he looked back to Draco. "Sorry," he said automatically, and frowned at the exasperated look leveled at him, and then he realized Draco was holding the door open. He stepped through the door and into the lobby of the building. It looked as old inside as it did outside, and this was definitely not a Muggle hotel. "Where are we?" Harry whispered to Draco.

"Germany, by the looks of it," Draco said, gesturing to the signs around the room, which were, of course, written in the native language. Harry goggled at them, especially the 'Der Müde Reisende' one, which seemed to be the name of the hotel, as he'd seen it outside as well. "Didn't you see the dogs?" he asked, turning to glance over his shoulder at Harry, who had lagged behind again, "That's a bit too ironic for my taste." Draco walked up to the concierge and spoke to him. It sounded like English, which was a bit odd, considering. When the blond rejoined Harry, he put a hand on the dark-haired boy's elbow, and Harry thought he saw a smirk on Draco's lips, but he was mostly shaded by his hood, so Harry didn't know what he'd seen. "I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood to sleep in the woods tonight. Come on, room 213."

"How fortunate for us, then," Harry replied, adopting a favored tone of Draco's, which wasn't very hard when he was tired and blinking heavy eyelids. He was tired, too, and would gladly go straight to sleep when they got in the room. Draco led him to a small lift on the far side of the reception area. "Were you speaking in German?" Harry asked, still wondering about that.

Draco tilted his head back some and shook his head. "I don't know anything besides English and a bit of French. I was using a Translation Spell; sounds the right language to whoever's listening." Harry nodded, really thinking he should have known that, since they'd learnt it in sixth year, but at least he found out something about Draco. It was odd to be traveling with someone he barely even knew, and what he did was spawned from animosity and bitterness, so anyone could imagine how different it would be to be traveling and being so intimate with someone whom he'd had that kind of past with.

Once the lift stopped on their floor, the second, they walked down the hall, looking for 213. Draco unlocked the door with the key he'd put in his pocket, and returned it there as soon as he'd pushed the door open. Setting the bag on the bed, Draco shuffled things around inside of it, and Harry once again noticed there was only one bed. He didn't mind, because it wasn't exactly a chore to sleep beside Draco, as long as it didn't interfere with him getting some sleep. His feet hurt, and his lower back was beginning to ache, too. It must have been the baby, he supposed, although it still would have been only the size of a quill tip so far, and unable to do much to cause physical pain. He hadn't really thought of when it had happened, when he'd actually conceived, but the baby couldn't be too big yet, since they'd only had sex for a little over a week.

Unless this was some freak occurrence in a wizard pregnancy, and his baby was halfway grown or something; anything could happen in the wizarding world, though, he knew that much. Harry made his way to the bed as well, took his robes off and tossed them over onto a chair and sat down on the end of the bed. Draco had pulled out a few items of clothing he'd stuffed in the bag before they left Hogwarts, and then pulled the bag of food out for the second time since he'd been rearranging. He put the clothes back in, and then the food, and then stuffed his personal bag back into the side, making sure he'd know exactly where it was next time he needed it. When everything was back inside the bag, Draco tied it closed, and walked around the bed, setting it down, and then sitting down himself beside Harry. He wasn't very tired, but his feet were a bit tingly, probably from being unused to walking so much.

Harry shifted over a bit when Draco sat down, not to put more distance between them, but just so he wasn't on a complete tilt. The bed wasn't very big, but it was able to hold the two of them comfortably, so it wasn't much of an issue. Draco let his body fall back on the bed gently, though bouncing Harry a little, and then sighed. Harry looked over his shoulder at the other boy, seeing him actually leaning on his elbows. "What?"

Draco turned his head to look at Harry, who just laid the rest of his body down on the bed as well, since there was no point in exerting himself sitting up when he was tired and wanted to lie down anyway. He noted Harry looked a bit worried, but for what, he had no idea. "Thinking about how much further we have to go?" he said, lying flat on the bed and resting his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling.

"How come we don't just Apparate straight there? I've wanted to ask; I mean, it can be done, can't it?"

"Normally, it could be accomplished," he said, pausing a minute before he continued, "but, one, we'd need to be better at the whole thing, and I've only been doing it for a year and a half myself. Two, from what I've read, it's not good to Apparate over very long distances; that's why they invented Port Keys. And, three, we can't Apparate directly into the school, or even about four hundred meters from the doors. It has stricter and more dangerous wards protecting it than Hogwarts does."

Harry frowned at the ceiling, eyebrows pulling together slightly as he thought it over. "Then why do we stop for the night? If we could just Apparate in little jumps to each country, we'd be there a lot sooner," he surmised. He shifted his body, and felt his arm brush up against Draco's. Draco didn't move, so Harry didn't either. It wasn't like they should be shy about touching each other, especially for little things like their arms touching, when they'd already done much, much more.

"I have to remember the locations for us to Apparate each time," Draco said. "The last time I was here with my father, I was ten, so you can imagine it takes a bit for me to remember where exactly it was, and what it looked like." He sighed deeply, almost as a yawn, thinking about how long it'd taken him to recall a small tidbit of their current location. He hadn't forgotten the small restaurant they had appeared in front of. His father had taken him there for a late lunch one afternoon, and the name still made him grin. 'Die Kneipe von Han und Speiselokal.' His father had thought it was an upper class establishment, but it turned out to be a regular pub, filled with all kinds of dirty old wizards and witches. Draco let the smallest of smiles creep onto his lips, knowing his father never quite did well with Translation Spells. Lucius didn't have many, but he did have the occasional little thing that made him flustered and embarrassed. He needn't have worried about impressing Draco, though, knowing his son looked up to him whether he was perfect or not.

"Thanks for changing my badge," Harry said, not really on the topic, but they'd been quiet for a few minutes, so it kind of cleared the slate for a subject.

"Well, I can't very well let you carry the burden the whole time, can I?" Draco said, and immediately knew he really should have worded that better. He didn't necessarily think the child was a burden, but what the bloody hell was he supposed to do about it? He didn't think Harry was lying about it anymore, and that left them both with a pretty big decision to make. As much as he doubted they both wanted to make this type of choice, with each other, no less, they had to do it at some point. Draco felt Harry shift a bit more on the bed, but he didn't say anything in response. Well, that was the end of that, apparently.

Harry had opted for not saying anything, but he knew both ways it could have been interpreted. He doubted Draco meant it in a helpful way, the same as food for his cravings that Harry had thought of before; Draco wouldn't be taking the bag from him because it was heavy, he'd be taking it from him because he felt like he wasn't contributing. If anything, Harry knew Draco liked to have an equal share in everything, even if it was something as simple as carrying a bag. It wasn't even that heavy. Harry knew the blond hadn't meant it in the way of the baby, since there was no way he could lift that burden, without it being very, very messy, with lots of blood.

He really didn't want to think about that. Choosing to think about something else, Harry settled on what he'd just found out. Why didn't Draco just tell him these things from the start? It might make things a bit easier, but he supposed if he tried to pull up specific memories of something that happened eight years ago, he might not be so successful. He'd make a note not to interrupt the other boy when he looked like he was in deep thought about something, only to simply ask, 'Whatcha thinking about?' It sort of ruined the process, didn't it?

"You traveled a lot with your father, then?" Harry asked, and finished it off with a yawn. Maybe the Apparating was making him sleepy. They'd almost graduated back to a day schedule, instead of a night schedule, but then it really was more of a sleeping in until two in the afternoon deal. Merlin, he wanted to fall asleep right where he was, but he'd never be comfortable with all his clothes on, not to mention the horrible tangles he'd be in by the time he woke up. Add to that, he'd just tried to start a conversation, so he couldn't really fall asleep, could he? It felt rather good to talk with Draco. Sort of like getting to know him, if there were ever a stranger idea than that. Ron would shit himself if he saw Harry trying to chat it up with Draco Malfoy.

Draco hadn't answered, not quite sure he wanted to. He didn't have anything to lose by talking about his past, since it was in the past, after all. So were a lot of other things, like their intense dislike for each other. He'd never hated Potter, but it was just many things combined that led him to act how he had, and even now, he hadn't stopped acting that way. He didn't really want to speak about his father, but he didn't think it was so bad after he thought about it for a moment; maybe he could answer a few questions, since they seemed harmless enough.

"I've never left England much, but there were a few long trips, about a fortnight, to other places where there was a wizarding attraction. To the Castle of Durmstrang to see the school, to the dragon colonies in Romania, and a couple other places in France and Germany. Other than that, mostly just around London and Diagon Alley, and sometimes he'd taken me into Knockturn Alley. Never really did like going in there; too odd of witches for my tastes."

Harry definitely agreed with Draco on that one. In his second year, he'd accidentally Flooed into Knockturn Alley. He'd meant to go to Diagon Alley with the rest of the Weasleys when he'd been staying with them for the last bit of summer before school started. Taking his glasses off and leaning over to set them on the bedside table, he remembered being so nervous, since it was his first time traveling by Floo powder, and he'd blurted out the wrong name. Come to think of it, he'd seen Draco there, too, but he didn't want to tell the other boy that, since he'd basically spied on him and his father at the time, while hiding in some sort of human-sized chest. Draco sighed again, remembering times past with his father. Some had been good, and some bad, of course, but even though he may be better off with his father locked away in Azkaban, he still missed him sometimes.

He couldn't blame Harry for it anymore, either. With his father gone, Draco had realized how much better his life was, without the constant overbearing presence, reminding him of failure, and what would happen if he didn't do everything right. With a little help from his mother, Draco realized his father had simply got what was coming to him. No matter what he'd said or felt in fifth year, which he supposed he might want to apologize for that to Harry, he was a bit glad it had all happened. Draco was about to say more when he heard light snoring coming from the other boy. Sitting up slowly, not shaking the bed, Draco took his shirt off, and pulled his belt from the loops on his trousers before moving to Harry, and tugging up the other boy's shirt.

Harry flung his arms up in his half-sleep, allowing Draco to pull it over his head. He had no idea why he was doing it, but he really didn't want to be tangled in the dark-haired wizard's clothing, if he somehow managed to wiggle half out of it, and get Draco's arm caught in it, or something. When he pulled Harry's shirt up, he was caught staring at the still flat stomach, and couldn't help but want to touch it. He doubted he'd feel anything, and he tore his eyes away when he had to move around the other side of the bed to pull the shirt over Harry's head, messing his hair up. He wasn't even going to attempt to take Harry's trousers off, no matter how pliant Harry seemed to be right now while he was half asleep. Harry mumbled in his sleep when Draco lifted his legs onto the bed, turning him so his entire body was on the bed, with nothing hanging over the side but one of his socked feet, which Draco glared at.

Finished with arranging Harry, Draco took his shoes off, followed by his socks, and left his own trousers on as well. He pulled back the blankets on his side, and Harry shifted, pulling the blanket out from under himself and then resting it over his shoulder, too. Draco lay on his back, and reached a hand up to push the pillows into a more acceptable formation, but he was surprised when Harry moved even closer to him, and once again trapped his arm. The blond held his arm up awkwardly, with Harry's head resting on his bicep. A bit awkwardly, Draco settled his arm around Harry's shoulders. The hotel only had a single room available, but Draco had accepted, taking the liberty to go ahead and get it. He did assume they'd come to some sort of understanding in that regard, since Harry seemed to want to share a bed.

Considering what happened at the Leaky Cauldron the other night, Draco couldn't say he disagreed, but he had to admit it was a little uncomfortable for Harry to almost cuddle up to him. Draco just knew Harry was almost holding back, too, even while he was asleep, he'd never come closer than where he was now. Draco relaxed into the bed, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath; they still had a long way to go, and he hoped for Merlin's sake that Snape would still be there. That wasn't even the most prominent thing on his mind, though. It was starting to drive him nutty wondering what the hell was going on between them. Personally, he thought they should figure something out, or at least set some rules before they went any further, especially since they shared a bed. Oh, Merlin, what the hell am I doing? he thought to himself.

@>*~

Harry woke up the next afternoon, or maybe it was a little later than that, because it certainly looked dark outside. Turning over in bed, he frowned when he didn't see a blur of blond hair next to him. That was how he usually identified Draco when he didn't have his glasses on, and was in the dark. He wondered where the other boy had gotten to when he heard sounds coming from the toilet. Harry rolled back over to see Draco emerge from the smaller room and walk, shirtless, over to his side of the bed. Sitting up in bed, Harry grabbed his glasses so he could see better, and was rewarded for the effort when he saw just how shirtless Draco was. He watched Draco grab something from the end of the bed (it turned out to be his shirt) when he stuck his arms through the sleeves and pulled it over his head. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to go. I changed my shirt," Draco said, stuffing another shirt back into the bag. Harry looked up to see the sharp spikes of blond arranged around Draco's head, noticing then it was actually wet. He must have showered, Harry thought. It had been a few days, and Harry was sure he probably smelled a bit funky as well. Harry got up from the bed after untangling the blanket from his legs and stood, a bit wobbly, before he made his way towards the toilet himself, intent on cleaning up.

When he came back out, squeaky clean and quite refreshed, he saw Draco sitting in a chair, ankles crossed, and arms on the sides of the chair, waiting for Harry. He had his robes on, and had changed his hair, Harry noticed; the bag was at his feet. "Where're we going?" asked Harry.

"Poland." Draco stood up, grabbing the strap of the bag and lifted it up onto his shoulder. "Father took me there once when he was meeting up with an old school friend of his. I don't remember much of who it was; I was ten, after all." He crossed his arms and watched as Harry pulled on his own shirt, which he didn't remember having taken off, and then put his robes on, then his shoes, and was ready to go. He joined Draco at the door, and the blond looked him over, frowning slightly at his mess of hair. Harry had long since given up attempting to style it in a presentable manner, and just patted it down while it was wet; it usually worked.

"I can't wait until we're done with the Apparating," Harry said, rubbing his stomach. It still gave an unhappy lurch every once in a while after they Apparated. "I'm not sure if my stomach can take much more of it." Draco looked back at the other boy as they walked down the hall, hoods up once again, and saw Harry rubbing his stomach, again. He'd have to find out what it was about doing that, or try it himself. Now, wasn't that an awkward thought? Harry knew it was because it didn't feel good, but he still couldn't stop thinking about there being a kid in there. Not that he'd rather be at Durmstrang, but at least then he wouldn't have to Apparate. He supposed it might simply be the baby, but the rest of the sensations it gave him weren't exactly pleasant, either.

"It should only be about..." Draco paused, thinking, "...another week or less of traveling. It's a big country to span, Russia." They got back into the lift they'd taken up to their floor, and waited as it took them back down to the main floor and into the lobby.

"Is that where Durmstrang is? In Russia?" Harry asked, sounding a bit surprised. Draco sighed as he reached into his pocket for the key, catching the concierge's curious look at the mention of the Dark castle. He set the key down on the desk, and slid it towards the man, who averted his eyes from the sharp grey ones that stared back at him. The man nodded and took the key, nodded again, and Draco turned back to Harry, who could see a bit of a smirk under the hood.

"Siberian plains, from what I remember, yes." Hadn't he told Harry this the other day? "When Father took me there, of course, we were able to reach the castle in under two days' travel." They started on their way out of the hotel, but Harry slowed and made to double over, hands on his knees as he leaned down. Looking back when he realized Harry wasn't beside him, Draco paused to ask, "Alright?"

"Light-headed," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I'm okay, I think. Just a little hungry." He fought the urge to rub his stomach when he straightened up. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Draco looked concerned. "If we're going to be Apparating any time soon, I'd rather not eat until afterwards." Draco nodded, readjusting the bag over his shoulder before walking out of 'Der Müde Reisende'. Harry couldn't help but look to the side where the dogs had been the night before, but they were nowhere to be seen. Merlin, he hoped they hadn't been waiting outside for scraps. He didn't quite like large dogs, and wasn't that an uplifting thought? Harry immediately felt depressed when they turned down an alley and stood behind a dustbin, since it wasn't an entirely wizarding area here; it was better safe, than sorry. He didn't suppose Draco wanted to be hunted down by Magical Law Enforcement Officers for exposing an established community of magical folk.

Draco went first, as usual, but he gave a minute for Harry to swallow thickly, and looked at the dark-haired boy as reassuringly as he could before he closed his eyes and disappeared with a 'pop.' Harry blinked at the spot where the blond had stood, and then shook his hands nervously before closing his own eyes and concentrating on his friend's image. Friend? Did thinking about someone with an incorrect title screw up the Apparating process? When Harry opened his eyes after the swooshing displacement of air around himself, he looked upon the edge of a small market square. Draco grimaced as he watched Harry stagger to the side a bit before bending over, dry heaving over a patch of grass. "Are you quite finished?"

The heaving subsided, thank Merlin, and Harry straightened up to look at Draco, getting to his feet as he did so. "I'm alright," he said, seeing the look on Draco's face. Despite his rude and impatient words, he did seem to care, Harry thought. "This is Poland? It's not any colder," Harry said, looking up at the sky, wondering if it was going to dump some snow on him just for saying that.

"No, we're still in Germany. Berlin," Draco surmised, looking around, and started down the street. "I guess Hannover must have made me think of the rest of the country." Harry caught up with him and they walked down the dim street. All shops were closed on it, not providing much light other than from the street lamps lining the street every so often. "My father owns the branch of Gringotts here," he said, glancing sideways at Harry to make sure he was keeping up, or even listening. "The main branch in the center of the city is Muggle-owned, but this is a secondary, run by a wizard; but my father owns the building and holds stock in the business."

If they needed any more money, which Draco doubted they did since he'd had enough to cover the trip in his room at Hogwarts and had taken most all of it with him in his bag, they could have gone there, but then he would definitely be recognized. It didn't matter if he was a regular visitor, but he was the spitting image of his father, and it would be obvious who he was if he faced someone who his father knew so well, even if it was on business terms.

"I thought all Gringotts belonged to the goblins?"

"Most people do, but they had to get financing in the first place, didn't they? When they started up, it came from old money from the old wizarding families, of which the Malfoys would be considered. Germany is a very old country for wizarding folk, probably second to Britain." There had to be a place to stay at around here somewhere, because Draco didn't remember venturing too far from where they stayed while he and his father went on this trip years ago.

Harry nodded as he listened, also keeping an eye out for even a pub to stay at, of which he caught sight of one up ahead. They continued towards it, and Draco kept talking. Harry was glad he'd seemingly broken through the ice and maybe get them talking. If he was carrying the blond's child, he at least wanted to say he'd had a conversation with the man. And, if he had to defend Draco's character to Ron and Hermione when they got back and convince them that he was an okay guy, then it would help if he knew something about the Slytherin himself.

"I think there're Malfoys still left in Germany; not in that manor that I mentioned before, but I know we have less well-to-do relatives, probably even in Berlin somewhere." They reached the pub, and peered in the grimy window as they walked past it to the door. There almost didn't look like many wizarding folk inside, but it was definitely open to magical folk, as there were wands shown, personal spells cast, broomsticks to be seen. Pushing open the front door, there weren't many looks tossed their way, but the few of them who did look squinted at their raised hoods.

Harry followed closely behind Draco as the blond walked up to the bar and hailed the barkeep over. The burly man nodded his acknowledgement at Draco and looked curiously at them, and then Harry almost gasped under his hood as he heard Draco speak. "Haben Sie Räume für die Nacht?"

"Selbstverständlich. Zwei Betten," the man spoke, and leaned his weight on his right foot to look beyond Draco at Harry before he continued, "oder nur eins?" Draco looked straight back at the man, and almost wanted to flip his hood down to glare properly at the man. His stark blond hair usually did make people take him seriously, since they obviously knew it was natural, and male Veela were definitely a scary thing to come into contact with. No doubt the man had seen slivers of hair that hung down into his face, and combined with his eyes, which were, indeed a rare color, but common with Veela.

"Nein, gerade eins," Draco said, and it really sounded a bit angry to Harry, and he wondered if the man had insinuated something rude about them. He was obviously a man, and so was Draco. What if that really wasn't accepted around here? It was a pretty normal thing in England, even in the wizarding communities, but he had no idea about another community, wizarding or not.

"Gut," the man said, nodding at Draco, and maybe he did say something rude, since the man did look a bit taken aback by the tone of Draco's voice as well. "Ist das fein." He turned around and reached up to a rack of keys with room numbers. "Raum vierzehn," he said, and even Harry caught on to that, with the help of the number fourteen printed on the tag attached to the key ring, and the man handed the key to Draco and then gestured to the stairs on the other side of the room.

Draco turned and looked pointedly at Harry, hoping he didn't say anything before they got onto the staircase, at least. Even then, Harry didn't say anything on the stairs, and waited until they were inside the room. Draco made his way straight to the bed after unlocking and relocking the door, and securing it with a Locking Charm as well. When he turned around, Harry was just slipping into the toilet, but didn't shut the door tight behind himself. He hadn't bothered with a Translation Spell when he heard the language spoken, not wanting to embarrass them or anything. "What did you say to him?"

"Oh, how domestic," Draco mumbled to himself as he glanced at the door again, setting the bag down beside the bed, and started the fire in the fireplace with a flick of his wand. "Inquired for a room, he asked how many beds, I said one, he said alright," he recounted. "I swear he thought I was part Veela, the way he was watching my hair and eyes; he couldn't even look straight in them."

"Are you?" Harry asked a bit warily as he came out from the bathroom. It wouldn't be such a big leap to believe something like that, since the physical features matched. He started to take his robes off, and tossed them over the back of a chair in front of the fireplace. Draco stood in front of the fire and had taken off his robes as well, and Harry could see the light from the fire flashing over the blond, coloring him with streaks of pale red and orange.

Draco crossed his arms and looked towards Harry, whose eyes were wide looking back at him. He let a small smirk come to his lips, and watched as Harry squirmed. "Yes," he said, and watched as Harry's jaw went slack as he stared back at him. Draco moved to sit on the bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked over to the other boy. "Only a very small amount from my father's side. About one twenty-fourth, which is barely enough to give me anything other than skin and hair color."

Harry nodded, mouth still open slightly. He would have considered it a bit sexy if Draco were a larger part Veela, but he was still attractive otherwise, still due to the light tones. Standing from the chair, finding it a bit too hot near the blazing fire, Harry walked around to the other side of the bed. It was bigger than the last, which was better for stretching out a bit more and not worrying about elbowing Draco in the face. They were almost the same height, Draco a bit taller, and even though Draco seemed to stay in pretty much the same spot during the night, Harry knew he didn't, and he didn't want to think of how many times he'd probably woken the other boy up.

He also noticed that Draco always took the side away from the door leading into the room. Harry didn't mind, but he thought it was a peculiar habit. If he thought about it, it did make sense not to want to be the last one to the door in case of an emergency, but Harry thought of it the other way: he didn't want to be the first one someone got to when they came through the door. That wasn't really a great philosophy to subject your lover to, but it didn't really matter unless someone were after them, did it?

Draco had sat higher on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He wasn't tired yet, but it felt good to sit there, the fire slowly warming the cool room. He'd have to take his shoes off in a moment, most likely followed by his shirt, and maybe even his trousers, since he was tired of sleeping in them. "What about your mum, is she Veela?" Harry asked, trying to keep the conversation going. It went well before, without nasty looks, or angry words, so it might be a good idea to try it again. Harry started taking his shoes off, and as Draco watched, his socks. Thank the lord, Draco thought, watching Harry toss down the balls of fabric.

"Mum's not, but I don't know about her ancestry. Obviously the male line is diluted, thus proving there to only be such weak Veela blood as in me and any relatives that are directly in my father's line." Draco shifted some when Harry climbed on the bed, but lifted the covers over top of himself. He'd kept his trousers on, so maybe Draco should, too. He had no idea if Harry wanted to do anything, but he wasn't going to press. "If there are any other than me, they'd be in France. That's where most of our family is.

"My great-grandfather moved to England, claiming it was more dignified than France, but there aren't really a lot of them left there. With such an old pureblood family, they haven't had much of a chance to branch off too much. I think there's even a manor that belongs to my family somewhere in Germany. Father took me there once, but we never went inside. It looked almost the same as our manor in England, except it was in disuse."

Draco knew that Germany had a rather Dark past, and he knew where some of his relatives here had ended up. It had mostly been before the Muggle wars, according to the Malfoy family history books, of which Draco hadn't flipped through in years. They either died in battles, or moved farther east or to England. Draco told Harry more of what he could remember of his relatives, and he hardly noticed when he'd slumped lower to lie down on the bed on his side, propped on an elbow, and facing Harry. "Do you remember your parents?" Draco asked, bringing his other hand up to look at his nails. He didn't really want to bring it up, but if he was talking about his father, he wanted to at least branch the conversation off. They'd definitely need a good cleaning when they got back to Hogwarts, his nails.

Harry tensed. He was lying on his back, hands behind his head, and was about to turn his head to look at the blond, but that was before he asked the last question. Harry pulled his hands down, and rested them on his chest, his elbow pressing against Draco's chest faintly. "Not really," he admitted. No one had really asked him that, and he didn't feel that bad saying it, though it still reminded him of what he'd never had. "I remember the feelings, though, of being safe, and loved. If I didn't have pictures of them, I wouldn't even know what they looked like."

"I miss my father sometimes," Draco said quietly after a moment. He didn't mean to bring up bad memories, but if they wanted to get to know each other, which is what he assumed the conversation was for, they might as well get the family stuff over to begin with. "I'd go see him, but visitors aren't allowed inside the prison. I guess they reckon someone might try to release prisoners from inside, considering what happened with Barty Crouch. I write him sometimes, but he doesn't write back. I know he sends letters to my mother, but she doesn't read them to me."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He knew Draco could hear him, and he also had no idea how well Draco would receive an apology for something like that. Harry was a bit glad the topic of his parents had switched over to Draco's own. He supposed he didn't mind answering the question, but he'd rather hear what Draco had to say. Everyone knew about Harry's parents, about his whole life story, but he doubted more than two people knew about Draco's life. If he'd tell him, Harry would gladly listen.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Draco said, and then almost as a whisper he continued with, "He loves me in his own way." He cleared his throat softly, and shifted his weight off his arm, lying sideways on the bed. Draco barely ever slept on his side, or even lay in the position, but it seemed better to speak to Harry this way, more intimate, he thought. "Mum says he asks about me, but he still won't write back to me himself."

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he stayed silent. He didn't particularly care for the elder Malfoy in the slightest, and he was sure that point wasn't lost on Draco, but at least it was reassuring to know that Lucius cared for his son. Draco felt a bit bad to be speaking about his father so much, when Harry had lost almost two of them. "I'm sorry you lost your godfather."

Harry's head snapped to look at the blond, and he supposed he shouldn't really have been surprised Draco knew about it. It wasn't Draco's fault he had lost Sirius, but if it wasn't for his father and the other Death Eaters, Sirius would still be alive. "I don't want to talk about it," Harry said, holding back some of the anger that suddenly rushed to the surface. "I don't know much about my family's past, just what Sirius told me bef -- and what Remus talks about," Harry said shortly. Draco watched the Gryffindor close off, knowing Harry wanted him to just shut up now, and wondered if he'd hit him if he didn't stop dredging up painful memories.

Draco nodded, rustling the pillow under his head, and Harry's eyes looked a little less enraged as Draco looked back into them. "He was related to my mother." What, did he not know when to stop? He didn't want to not say it though, since he had no idea if Harry knew. If he barely knew his biological family, did he know anything much about the last, though now late, remnants of his parents' life?

"I know," Harry replied, not as tightly as before, but it was still obvious he wasn't comfortable talking about this, really wanting the conversation about Sirius to stop. "He showed me his family tapestry once. You're - were - his cousin."

"Yeah," Draco breathed, and lay there silent for a moment. He couldn't keep on with talking about Harry's family, since it was so blatantly painful for the other boy. He wondered if Harry had started thinking about his own baby as 'family' yet. That wasn't the main thing though, because what about the baby's father? Would Harry ever want to consider Draco family? He doubted it would go as far as calling him a husband, or any type of marriage like that sort, but he had to say they'd passed from friends and lovers to something a bit more. Or, if they hadn't passed lovers yet, they were starting to get there, and both making an effort. That thought alone made Draco tired. Slowly getting up from the bed, Draco pulled back the covers on his own side, and joined Harry underneath them. "I'm going to sleep," Draco said, quite knowing he was stating the obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment as a yawn followed his words.

Glad the conversation was put to rest, so to speak, at least for the time being, Harry agreed. "I'm completely knackered," he said, and with that, he sat up and tugged his shirt off and tossed it to the floor beside the bed. He lay down and pulled the sheets back up over his shoulder, getting comfortable. Draco moved over some so Harry had a bit more room to situate himself. Even though Harry was still a bit riled up emotionally at the mention of his godfather, he moved closer to Draco. Draco almost raised an eyebrow at the movement; Harry following him after he'd moved to give the other boy more room. Draco's arm had already been under the pillow, having become a habit from the past couple nights, and Harry took advantage of that, shifting closer to the blond's body.

It wasn't cold in the room, so it wasn't out of a need to keep warm, sharing body heat and all that. Harry just liked sleeping next to someone, and Draco was starting to realize that fact. Harry didn't quite feel right lying all over Draco, and he was pretty sure Draco wasn't so keen about it either, but he pressed as close as he could to the taller boy. Draco did what seemed to feel almost normal, and he pulled his hand out and lifted it to settle around Harry's shoulders again. It didn't take too long before Harry fell asleep, but it was to an uncomfortable silence. Draco wasn't uncomfortable being near Harry, but he couldn't help wondering if anything would turn horribly wrong on this silly journey of theirs.

Besides the obvious dangers that lie ahead for both of them, Draco had a lot to think about. He hadn't actually thought of the word 'father' being applied to himself, and despite the entire conversation about his own, and even Harry's, it'd taken him this long to realize what his brain was getting at. He was going to become a father. He couldn't stop that from marqueeing across his thoughts, and he had no idea how he really felt about it either. Maybe the uncomfortable silence was only in his head, since that's the only thing that felt awkward right now. Sleep finally over took the blond's mind, but not before he managed to wonder what was going to happen when they finally made it to Durmstrang; he just hoped they met up with Snape, and were able to leave unscathed. There was something that wouldn't sit right with Draco, and he knew it had to do with Harry. He knew he'd leave Durmstrang in one piece, due to his father's influence as a Death Eater, but he had some rather large doubts about Harry; it definitely didn't sit right with him.

@>*~

The food there wasn't the most exquisite, but it didn't seem to be coming back up. Lucius picked up his wand from beside his knife, and waved it at the dishes. They disappeared, and then the man leaned back in his chair, picking up his wine glass as he did so. He swirled the contents slightly before taking a sip, and looked across the table to Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord stared back at Lucius before picking up his own glass, his plates already dismissed. His appearance had come a long way over almost four years, and he more resembled his looks from many years past. Though with strands of grey streaked through his dark hair, his eyes retaining flecks of red, Voldemort could still command fear throughout his followers.

The scar across his cheek had faded, but it was beyond the time it could have been fixed with a simple spell. He'd lost some weight, but that did not matter. As long as he had control of his followers and things were going as planned, he was pleased. Glancing over to his right, he saw Peter setting up the chessboard for another round with Lucius. In all actuality, he knew Lucius hated playing against the other man, but there was not much else to do in this castle. The day he'd arrived, Voldemort had kept his robes on, and observed the classes in the school. He didn't quite approve of the methods that were being taught, but he supposed it was due to the fact that these weren't actually all Dark wizards; they were simply being taught to fight dirty.

He couldn't single out potential Death Eaters from two-thirds of these groups. Slytherin still had a much better turnout rate, though it was certainly because of their parents' loyalties. Hogwarts was a good school, and being stupid and knowing how to use the Dark Arts didn't provide as much knowledge to a student schooled in all aspects of wizardry. At least the Castle of Durmstrang was an apt location to settle in for the time being, warded beyond belief, even more so than Hogwarts, and much less people who knew where it was found. Lucius had stood up from his seat, and moved to the side table to begin a game with Peter. Voldemort had never much liked playing the game, but did enjoy watching.

It gave him time to think, and something to focus his eyes on, the restless little pieces as the players contemplated their moves. Standing up himself, Voldemort crossed to the table, hands clasped behind his back as he walked, and came to stand between his most faithful servants, in front of the chessboard. Peter had moved first, and was eager to see if he could learn anything from this round, perhaps. The man was still just as much of a sniveling fool of a coward as the day he'd betrayed Potter's parents, but Voldemort didn't care about that, as long as Peter remained loyal to him.

Voldemort was about to sit down on the third chair at the smaller table when there came a knock at the door. Narrowing his eyes on the wooden barrier, he gestured for Lucius to answer it. His servants had looked to him as soon as the sound interrupted them, and neither of them seemed to be expecting anything. Voldemort continued, taking his seat, and leaning back comfortably as Lucius opened the door. Two of his Death Eaters stood there, wearing heavy robes, and they immediately flipped their hoods down from their faces. "What?" Lucius snapped at them, seeming to know what they would have to say.

The Dark Lord inclined his head, touching his fingertips to his chin, elbow propped on the armrest as he raised an expectant eyebrow at the two men. They had looked to him, instead of Lucius, who had addressed them, but they quickly looked back to the blond. "Sir, your son was not found at Hogsmeade," the first said, and Voldemort had no idea what his name was and couldn't be bothered to exert his power to find out at the moment, opting for simply watching the interaction.

"What do you mean he was not found?" Lucius sneered, obviously not pleased with that information. He stood from his seat to his full height, and stepped towards the men, who had taken a step inside the room, and Lucius slammed the door shut with his wand. "Are you trying to tell me, Nott," Lucius began, "that he stayed behind at Hogwarts for the weekend?"

"No," said Nott, and he refused to look away from the slowly-becoming-irate man in front of him. "We asked, and he wasn't at school, either."

"You asked?" Lucius asked calmly, almost sounding amused, and Nott nodded in response. He inhaled slowly and crossed his arms over his chest, before pursing his lips. "Who did you ask?" he questioned, trying a cruel smile on his lips now, and it clearly worked wonders as the men both stuttered before they could come up with their answer. He raised an eyebrow at the two of them, and when they fell silent, he tersely prompted, "Well?"

"Blaise Zabini."

"Ah," Lucius said, turning his back to the men, who visibly relaxed, before their eyes fell upon the other occupants of the room, or more precisely, one in particular. Voldemort had a contemplative look on his face as he watched them, and Lucius returned to his seat. "Leave!" he snapped at them again, and they wasted no time at all to fling the door open and dart outside, closing it gently behind themselves. Turning to the dark-haired man to his left, Lucius spoke. "My Lord, would you summon Snape?" Voldemort's eyes drifted to meet Lucius', and he nodded slowly, already doing what he requested.

"Zabini wouldn't lie," Lucius began, after he'd moved a pawn across the board, "and neither would his son. With his father in your employ, he wouldn't take any chances." Voldemort looked away from Lucius, and back at the board as the pawn moved and then sliced its small sword through one of Peter's bishops. Then he looked to Peter, who had his entire face contorted as he grew more and more frustrated by the second.

Severus, in his room, suddenly felt his arm burn, and he clamped his other hand down over top of the Dark Mark.The Potions professor cursed to himself, and stalked to his door, grasping the handle and swinging it open. He closed his eyes as he walked through the halls, knowing it would get him there faster. He was deathly aware that there were no other footsteps around him, no others being summoned. It wasn't all that uncommon for him to be called to a private meeting, usually to be enlisted for making a potion for something or other. This didn't feel like those times, and he couldn't help but feel tense as he walked through the halls. He came to stop at a large door, somewhere half a floor below his own, knocked on it three times, then stood and waited.

The door swung open and he definitely knew even before it was fully open, just who was in the room. Snape saw Lucius looking back at him amiably, and he gestured him into the room. He shut the door himself and walked towards the table the three men sat at. Wormtail looked up at him briefly, and averted his eyes back to the board. Voldemort nodded almost imperceptively, but Snape knew, and he inclined his head to the Dark Lord.

"How is my son, Severus? Is he doing well at school?" Lucius asked, as soon as Snape had made it five steps into the room. Before he'd reached the room, Voldemort had created a fourth chair, and placed it exactly opposite of his own, looking over the chessboard. Snape sat down in the seat and looked over the board and the moves already made before answering.

"I know nothing of his other classes except Transfiguration," Severus answered curtly, "but I can assure you he excels in Potions."

"Well," Lucius began, "that is good to hear." He picked up one of his knights, and set it down half on the same large square as one of Peter's pawns. The black knight swung its mace up, and it fell down hard over top of the small pawn, knocking its body in half, crumbling onto the board. Peter swore and pushed the ruined piece off the board, and Lucius' knight took the place for itself. "The problem is, Severus, no one seems to know where the boy is."

Lucius turned to look at Severus, and Snape was excruciatingly aware that Voldemort was staring at him as well. At least he'd solidified his position as a trusted Death Eater, when, last summer, he'd participated in an attack on some Aurors, and he had actually killed two of them. To say the least, it had made him look good to the Dark Lord, and he really didn't want to jeopardize that now, despite the fact that he'd rather not be within a thousand meters of the man. "Is he not at school?" Severus asked, forcing himself not to look at the Dark Lord, knowing full well that Lucius had implied that, and he shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes intently on Snape's. Not to mention that Snape knew otherwise before even being called to Voldemort's chambers. "I had no idea," he lied, making himself sound concerned for the other man's son, which he really was. "Has he gone home to his mother? It might be advised to send an owl to Narcissa before reaching improper conclusions."

Lucius stared at him, temporarily forgetting the game he was winning. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, turning back to the chess game, and watching as Peter moved his queen. He'd spared the rat's piece, only for the entertainment of watching his face when he believed to be getting somewhere in the game, other than losing.

"Would it be better for Severus to write the letter?" Voldemort asked, and Snape looked at the man. He definitely was easier on the eyes than he was last time he'd been in his presence, and he wondered if it was due to some kind of potion, or more Dark Arts at work. He felt a slight bit of resentment at the thought of it being a potion, and Severus hadn't been called to prepare it; perhaps it had to be brewed at one's own hand. Voldemort wasn't looking at Lucius as he spoke, but rather at Severus, boring into his eyes, and Snape knew what he was doing, staring right back. "After all, you shouldn't upset a beauty like that; she doesn't even know you're outside of Azkaban, Lucius."

Voldemort grinned at the blond, and Lucius looked back at him questioningly, but the dark-haired wizard simply looked amused at something or other. "Perhaps," Lucius mused, using his wand to Summon a piece of parchment for Snape to write on, which appeared in the professor's hand, and then the chessboard disappeared, leaving the table clear for Snape to work on.

"Shit," Peter said, the first thing Snape had heard him say the entire time he was in the room. He looked up curiously at the pudgy man, and Peter looked back angrily, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair. Snape picked up a quill from the desk that had also been created, and he could just imagine Pettigrew looking quite pissed off at Lucius for stopping the game, when he was just so close to getting better. Voldemort looked vaguely disgusted at Peter's character at the moment, but then he directed his attention to Snape, who had begun writing on the parchment.

'Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy,

I am writing to inform you, on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry, that your son, Draco Malfoy, has been absent from school
since the weekend, Saturday, the 12th of November. It is advisable to send
a letter to the Headmaster, inquiring for any further information regarding
your son's location. Be assured he is safe, merely absent. I will contact you
again if I hear word from Draco.

Severus Snape.'

Snape sat straight in his chair, and set the quill down. It was clearly for Narcissa to assume that Snape himself was not even at the school, thus providing her with the knowledge that he was somewhere during a school week. One might even assume that Draco was trying to follow him, though if Snape didn't know better, that's certainly what he would have thought, but only Merlin knew why. "My Lord," Snape began, before either of the other men had a chance to say anything more, "could I ask, why the delay when you summoned us?"

"It was most unfortunate to keep you waiting, though my assistance was needed elsewhere," Voldemort said, his voice low, and he made a gesture to the men on either side of him, Lucius and Peter. He considered elaborating, if he should tell Severus any more or not, knowing he still had the potential to turn around and whisper it into that old fool's ear. Though, his display of loyalty at the last attack warranted him to regard the man with a renewed respect. When Voldemort addressed them the other night, he hadn't provided any information, and if nothing else, he knew Severus was a curious one. "After I heard of Lucius' incarceration, I saw fit to persuade the Dementors back into the fold.

"They now obey my command, and Azkaban has now been transformed into my own high security prison, without any Ministry officials the wiser," Voldemort continued. Snape wanted to gape at that information, knowing that the wards were now the equivalent to Muggle revolving doors for any of the Dark Lord's followers, and he would go as far as to assume a special little kiss was reserved for anyone that was caught in the clutches of the Dark Lord, who had been ever so unfortunate to have defied him in the past. "I had sent Peter to relieve Lucius of his bonds, to bring him here, but he... failed," Voldemort finished, casting an appraising look at Peter, who uncrossed his arms and looked a bit ashamed of himself.

As Voldemort spoke, Severus knew he was only taking things at face value for the moment, but if there was any unease showing on his features, which he wasn't so sure of at the time, the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to delve further, to seek out the reason for the insecurity. That would not be a good thing, and Snape knew that very well. It seemed the man was finished speaking, and they fell into silence; Lucius inspected his nails and Peter shifted in his chair, wondering if he should say something or not. Voldemort kept his eyes on Snape, who had dropped his eyes to read over the letter he'd written, yet making sure to keep his mind as blank as he could, to relax himself.

Voldemort then looked to Lucius, wishing he could tell the man that his son was, at this very moment, with none other than Harry Potter himself. Now, he thought to himself, how did this fit together? The son of his most loyal follower was going beyond his duty, and that of most of the Death Eaters already in his ranks, and was leading Harry right to him. Or, could he be coming for an ulterior reason? Draco would most assuredly be welcome to Peter's position in the Dark Lord's inner circle, since he was already starting to prove his worth, being a good little Death Eater and bringing Potter to him, and in a weakened state, no less.

Oh, yes, he'd seen as much in Severus' mind, despite the twists and turns to find the information. All he wasn't sure of, though, is how precisely the boy was weakened. The silence was beginning to bore Severus, and he was sure he had no more reason to be in the room with the Dark Lord, his right hand, or his lap dog. "Shall I send the letter?" he asked, picking the parchment up from the table. It was dry by now, and was in no danger of smearing if it was rolled up.

"Very well," Lucius said, distracted now by the new game, and not even bothering to look at Snape, or wave him out of the room. Snape couldn't fathom why a man such as Lucius Malfoy would play chess with such an incompetent as Pettigrew, but what else was he to do in a place like this? Even Snape had grown tired of drinking, and he certainly wasn't going to let his guard down due to alcohol now that Voldemort had already searched his mind. He knew the Dark Lord had found something, but hopefully Snape still had a few plausible excuses up his sleeve, which he hoped to perfect as he made his way to the owlery. He'd write a short letter to Lupin while there, and send it with the same owl, so it wouldn't be so obvious.

@>*~

The sun was just beginning to set, and it cast its last rays through the small open slit in the curtains and let them stream across the room. Draco thought he would have been the first to wake, but when he sat up in the bed, he found the other side empty. He was about to get up and search the room for the other boy, and if need be, he'd go through the entire hotel, but that was before he heard the lavatory door open. Harry walked out into the main room, feeling a whole lot better than he had thirty minutes ago. He felt marvelously clean now, and he made the decision to bathe as much as possible, if he had the time. It wasn't that he was dirty, even if all they'd been doing was Apparating, but the hot water really helped to soothe his sore muscles.

Harry looked to the bed when he came out of the smaller room, and saw Draco sitting up, then smiled at the blond. Draco watched him for a moment before leaning down a bit to rest his arms on his knees. He thought perhaps he should have just been listening more carefully and he'd have known where Harry was, instead of overreacting before he knew anything. The blond lifted his knees up and crossed his arms over top of them, legs still under the blanket. "We have some time, I think, before we leave. You hungry?" he asked, lowering his head onto his crossed wrists, and watched as Harry only nodded. "Fancy a bite to eat, then?" he chuckled softly.

Harry paused for a moment, thinking about whether that was a good idea, despite knowing he was a bit peckish. The thing was: should he get something to eat when he'd more than likely puke it up after Apparating? He had no idea how long it would be, if his stomach would have time to digest anything (not that it really mattered when it came to throwing up), but the decision was made for him when his stomach overruled any more debate on the matter, growling noisily. "Sure, but something light, yeah? I don't want it all coming back up."

Draco nodded before he stretched his legs out, standing to reach for his shirt. Since there was a pub downstairs in the same building, they wouldn't have too far to go, just down some stairs. Harry had patted his hair down again and then after he tugged his shirt over his head, he didn't bother doing it again. He'd put his trousers back on in the bathroom, not really wanting to be walking around in just a towel covering his bits. Not because he was shy, but rather because it just felt weird to do it around someone he'd slept with. Draco had his cloak on before Harry did and when the dark-haired boy was ready, Draco unlocked the door.

He didn't know how long it would be before he remembered their next exact destination, so it was a better idea to leave their things in the room, as they'd be back after their meal. After holding the door open for Harry to pass through, Draco shut and relocked the door with a spell behind them. Across the hall and down the stairs, and soon they were in the restaurant area of the pub, both hoping it had decent food. It was alright to eat a bag of crisps every once in a while, but if they had to do it all the time, neither of them would want to touch the things again. There were a lot less people in the room than there had been the day before, and Draco led the way through to one he deemed suitable, nodding to the waiter to make his way to their table after them.

The young man wasn't much older than either of them, probably only by a few years. Harry still hadn't bothered with a Translation Spell, but he could have sworn, as he frowned at the other two men, that the waiter was rather blatantly flirting with Draco. The blond either didn't notice or decided to ignore the strange man's advances. Harry wasn't quite sure whether he liked watching this display, or perhaps it was just the fact that Draco seemed not to try and stop the man. The waiter wrote something down on his pad, and Harry assumed it was something to drink, probably their version of butterbeer. He wasn't even sure if one could get the popular drink anywhere but in England, but he supposed there had to be something equivalent to it in other countries. "This place doesn't look too bad," Harry began after the waiter left, glancing around the place, and trying to ignore the quiet that began to hang between them before he spoke.

"It could be better, but it's not bad for a quick bite to eat," the blond replied. Draco wondered at their astounding conversational skills. Lately, it had seemed a bit strange to be talking to Harry about things as trivial as where they were eating. Not to mention that he'd called anyone crazy who might have suggested two years ago that he'd be sitting in a pub in Germany having a conversation with Harry Potter. Sure, they'd come a long way from fistfights and throwing petty hexes at each other in the school halls, but where exactly were they heading now?

The quiet returned, and Harry looked down at his hands, not quite ready to pick up the menu. "Did you notice the waiter was flirting with you?" he asked, looking up briefly to gauge Draco's reaction to his question. He wasn't sure why he'd asked, but he knew it might be a better idea to ask now instead of blurting it out later when it really had no relevance to anything at all.

"Did he?" the other boy asked, then pursed his lips for a moment, as if thinking about it before looking up to meet Harry's eyes with a slightly sarcastic look in his own. "I hadn't realized."

"Well, he was," Harry said when Draco picked up his menu the waiter had left there, clearly not giving it any more thought. Despite the comment, Harry knew the blond didn't really mean it. If he didn't think he knew better, though he was starting to mistrust his judgment, he would have thought Draco had chosen not to reciprocate the attention, for whatever reason; maybe they were getting closer, but maybe that was wishful thinking on Harry's part. The thing was, though, that he had no idea when he might have begun wishing for that.

Draco sighed quietly to himself before he folded the menu and set it back on the table, looking to Harry, who hadn't stopped staring at him. "Something you're trying to tell me, Potter?"

"No, just saying," Harry said passively, picking up his own menu, anything to keep from looking at the sudden frown on the other boy's face.

Draco hummed to himself, barely audible, and Harry never even looked up from his menu. It was true, he had noticed the waiter's excessive attention to him, and the way he kept looking at his lips, but he just wasn't interested. Even if he was, what could he do about it? Kick Harry out of their room and shag the man senseless, then pop his head into the hall and tell Harry he could come back in, and share the bed again to go to sleep? He didn't think that'd be a very good idea. Besides, since they'd first been intimate with each other, he hadn't gone out or shagged anyone else. A few of his usual acquaintances from before Harry had asked him why he wasn't supposedly interested in them anymore, but he'd just said he'd been tired and hadn't been in the mood. He knew, truthfully, he'd actually enjoyed his time with the brunet, but he wasn't sure he'd admit that to anyone else, at least not yet.

A few moments later, the waiter once again showed himself to their table to take their orders. Still not bothering with the translations, Harry left the ordering to Draco, since he'd expressed what he wanted before the man came back. Harry thought it would be easier to listen to gibberish in the background instead of trying to listen in to others' conversations if he could understand. He didn't favor being in pubs usually, and the time he'd spent in the Leaky Cauldron in his third year and various occasions since then had been almost more than enough. He wasn't a picky eater, and was generally open to anything new; the truth was, he never had a chance to be picky with the Dursleys, especially if they chose to starve him for a week, just for fun.

Harry tried not to look up to see the waiter again talking to Draco, for fear of seeing the man throwing himself at the blond. Harry gently bit his bottom lip inside his mouth, and kept his hands clasped under the table, hoping neither of them noticed his display of marvelous self-control. Still, in the back of his mind he wondered why it even bothered him, or why he was letting it get to him, since he and Draco weren't even dating, were they? The only substantial thing keeping them together right now was the baby he was carrying; oh, and the occasional shag, but that was more of a bonus.

Deciding to stop examining the dents in the table when he saw the waiter's legs walk away in the corner of his eye, Harry looked up to find Draco staring back at him. He didn't feel it was right to say anything, since he really wasn't sure if they even had a relationship to begin with. Harry wasn't sure what Draco would say either, and didn't want to make this anymore awkward or uncomfortable than it already was if Harry decided to give voice to his opinions. The rest of the meal was, unfortunately, spent in said uncomfortable silence, though mostly on Harry's side.

Draco had brightened when he'd remembered a spot in Poland, and they made plans for the rest of their day. They'd have to make their way back to their room to prepare and pack their things back into the bag. The blond had recalled a small park in the middle of a quaint little wizarding village and had briefly explained it to Harry, much to the dark-haired boy's surprise. Draco seemed almost enthusiastic, which was odd, but he supposed maybe it was better to be in a known wizarding village than in the middle of mixed company, such as they potentially were now. After finishing their meal, they collected their belongings from the room and returned their key to the clerk. Once outside the building, they started down an alleyway nearby to Apparate from. The horrible feeling crept up into his stomach at the thought of magically transporting himself somewhere again, and Harry was almost beginning to feel like maybe he should have just stayed at Hogwarts.

@>*~

When Harry appeared in the park, he fell to his knees with his arms immediately wrapping around his stomach, and after a few moments of sickness had washed over him, he gave thanks to whatever merciful gods that chose not to have him spill the contents of his stomach. Standing from the grass, Harry turned to face Draco, who looked about as relieved as he felt. He noticed, though, that the other boy's hood was up again, having not been for the rest of the day thus far. With this being a complete wizarding town, it wasn't exactly a wise thing to do to have their hoods down, so Harry pulled his up as well. There weren't many people around, and only a few turned their heads at the 'crack' when they Apparated to the small park.

Draco gestured for Harry to follow him and they began down the street. They were mainly in a housing area, but they soon found the way into the business section, and they couldn't help but look into the shop windows and their displays as they passed. They had some time to spend, and it wasn't too late in the day, so they might as well spend it looking in the stores. It was a larger and wider street than that of Diagon Alley, but it held just as many, and just as interesting stores to browse through. Both of them had decided it a good idea to visit the Quidditch supply store, and to check out the brooms there. Draco reminded him again of the games they were missing.

They did figure it out and it should most likely be Gryffindor playing in the next game, and Harry really wished he wasn't away from school, hoping his team would win without him. He didn't much care anymore about winning the games so much as playing, but it was a nice bonus to win something for your house. They wandered around a bit more on the street before they walked to the end of it, still in search of a place of lodging for them to stay in for the time being. They entered the inn, and walked up to the desk. The Translation Spell still enforced, Draco spoke fluidly to the man, but it wasn't German, it was different, and Harry assumed it was Polish.

The man handed over a key and gestured to the right, then behind them and to the left, giving directions for the room, and something else. Draco thanked and nodded at the man before he turned back to his companion. "Diner's through there," he said, pointing to where the man had, behind them to the left, "and the rooms are up there on the right. I'm going to take this up, then come back down and we'll check out the diner."

Harry just nodded at the blond and didn't feel the slight panic set in until the last of Draco's long cloak disappeared up the stairs. It left him alone in the lobby with the older man behind the desk. Harry turned in a bit of a circle, looking at the room, hoping Draco wouldn't take long. He turned and caught the employee looking at him, and Harry smiled at the man before he remembered he wouldn't be able to see it anyway since his hood was up. Belatedly, he nodded slowly, and hoped he didn't look too menacing, or anything. Then, Draco came back down the steps and joined Harry as they walked to the other hallway leading to the small restaurant.

Draco led the way, and Harry noticed that he'd left the bag in the room, probably the reason he went up to begin with before coming back down. "Are you hungry again? You ate more than I did before we left," Harry said, standing beside the blond as they came out of the hall. There weren't too many wizards and witches in the room, but enough to call it half full.

"I just want a drink mainly, but I could probably go for something small," Draco answered, crossing his arms and stepping nearer to a menu propped up on the counter of the bar. Harry joined him, looking at it as well, but his attention was drawn aside, to the container holding sweets of all kinds, and he felt his mouth begin to water. "You want that?" Draco asked, and Harry stopped staring and looked back to the other boy, nodding his head. Merlin, he felt like a child in a candy shop at that moment, but he tried to put it out of his mind.

He hoped Draco was just being nice, and not laughing at him for wanting cake. Harry did feel a bit bad for not being prepared for this trip. It was his fault they were where they were at the moment, so why should Draco be the one to pay for everything? As soon as they got back, Harry promised himself, he would definitely pay the other boy back, or get him a really, really expensive present. The only problem with that though, was that Harry really had no clue as to what Draco would want. Harry barely noticed a waitress cross from the other end of the bar and Draco began speaking to her.

He had to admit, sometimes he felt a bit intimidated by the blond, especially watching him pick up the menu from the counter and poke his finger at a particular picture of what Harry assumed he wanted. The witch looked a bit shy after Draco's frustrated words, since that was definitely how they sounded to Harry, and then she seemed to ask if there was anything else. Draco turned to look at him and asked, "Which one?"

Harry pointed to the one he specifically wanted, and as the witch made to write their selections down, they both missed her small grin at the two of them. They did look a bit funny to her, two cloaked men, pointing at cakes and getting frustrated over sandwiches. She read over the things the main one had ordered, and then he added one more thing before he agreed she had it correct. Nodding at him and saying it would be a few minutes, and she told them they could take a seat, that she'd find them and bring them their food when it was ready. Draco watched her go, and then he led Harry to one of the corners of the large room.

They were still visible from the counter, even if only by the top of their hoods, but it worked. "Where's my cake?" Harry couldn't help but ask. It wasn't as if it took a lot of preparation to nab it out of the display case, but maybe that was the reason; it could be display only and the real things were in the back. Draco reassured him of that exact thing, and that the waitress would bring it over when the rest of it was ready, which wouldn't be long.

"Besides, I don't think I could watch you eat without taking half of it for myself," Draco said as he gestured for Harry to sit down in the corner booth he'd selected. "Maybe I should have got some, too," he mused before he sat down as well. They usually sat opposite each other, and Harry had always noticed Draco looking behind his shoulder, so Harry opted to doing the same thing for the blond, assuming it was the reasoning for sitting face to face. Here, however, in the corner seat with the bench to the wall, Harry was surprised to have Draco slide in beside him, barely three inches between them because the Slytherin was sitting so close to him.

"You can have a bite of mine," Harry said, feeling all too awkward at this. If Draco were on the other side, Harry could at least see the blond's face, but now he couldn't unless he turned to his side, and that wasn't exactly pleasant on his neck. There was, of course, the whole thing about Draco sitting next to him. He knew very well that they slept in the same bed together, but this was different. Were they supposed to have an arm around the other's shoulder or waist? Or have a hand on the other's knee? Harry doubted that would happen, though not that he'd mind if it did, so he simply sat there with his hands to himself.

"Damn," Draco said after a minute. He'd leaned forward, his elbows on the table, watching ahead, and Harry had busied himself with folding a napkin into various shapes. "I know where we should be going, but I just can't get the right picture of it in my mind," he continued before Harry had the chance to ask. He sat back after he finished, and watched as the waitress came across the room towards them, weaving through a few tables until she came to them.

She set down three plates, two with sandwiches, and one with Harry's cake, and two bottles of butterbeer. Draco thanked her, and she smiled at them before going back to the bar, while the blond opened his bottle immediately and took a drink from it. He sighed heavily afterwards, and Harry grinned as he pulled one of the sandwiches towards himself, assuming one was his. Draco did the same, and they started into their meal. It was mostly spent in quiet, with Draco making inarticulately annoyed noises, presumably at his brain not cooperating with supplying the image he needed for them to proceed. Harry finished his sandwich before Draco did; he was apparently hungrier than he had thought, and started into his cake after a drink of his butterbeer. "Harry," he heard called softly, and he turned to look at the blond beside him, an eyebrow raised with curiosity, which he knew could be seen so closely between them when he saw Draco's head turned towards him, too.

"I really do want a bite of that," he said, and couldn't help but grin at the stupidity of it. No, he didn't want his own piece, he just wanted a bite. It was something that just looked so appealing, but he knew it would be absolutely too much sugar for him if he had more than one little piece of it. Harry laughed upon hearing the other boy, and he looked down at his plate. Draco was just in time to ask, because in a few bites, he'd have the entire thing finished.

"Okay," Harry said, still smiling, and he stuck his fork down into the cake and broke off a small piece, about the size of his thumb. He held it up slowly so as not to drop it, and started moving it towards Draco. The Slytherin seemed a bit surprised at this procedure, and looked at Harry ridiculously, but he opened his mouth before he got a fork to the face, if he'd been too slow to avoid having cake smeared on it. Harry slid the fork over Draco's bottom lip, and waited for the blond to close his mouth over the tines so Harry could pull it back.

He watched Draco's lips as he dragged them over the fork, catching the icing that was on it as well, and Draco almost started to laugh before pointedly averting his eyes to the wall beside Harry's head as he chewed the cake in his mouth. Harry chuckled at the other boy and his smile faded when Draco swallowed, then licked his lips, looking back at Harry again. Draco leaned forward a bit, his eyes on Harry's mouth before darting up to his eyes for a moment before Harry met him halfway, pressing their lips together in the middle. It was different to kiss while they both had a hood up, but it gave them an odd bit of privacy as it hid both of their faces still, and their mouths as Harry opened his to Draco's tongue slipping across his lips.

Harry could immediately taste more of the sweet icing and cake on Draco's tongue as he let his own slide against the blond's, and he made himself hold back a slight moan at the taste of it, melting in with Draco's unique taste. Draco teased Harry's tongue out of his mouth and into his own, and then pulled away completely, looking down at Harry's lips before closing in again, pressing against Harry, who opened freely this time, without hesitation. Harry, still holding the fork, had lowered his hand down to the table top, resting it there as he kept his head turned and his lips pressed against Draco's. He knew this had to stop before it got carried away, and since they were trying to keep a low profile, especially in wizarding areas, Harry retrieved his tongue, and gave one last kiss before pulling away with a slight sound of suction at their parting lips.

"That," the blond said softly when he pulled back, "was absolutely delicious." Draco licked his lips again, barely a hint of a smile on them as he looked Harry in the eye before turning away and picking up his butterbeer. Harry had slipped the fork right back into his mouth, licking the remaining icing off of it, and swearing he could still taste Draco on the metal. He was reminded of an incident in the Great Hall, involving pudding, Draco, and a particularly arousing spoon, and Harry was forced to finish his cake, trying not to think about it. He had no idea what Draco was thinking about this all now, but there really wasn't much they could do about it in the middle of the diner.

Aside from the odd and slightly off-putting weirdness of kissing someone while in the midst of eating, despite having actually swallowed the contents of their mouth, Harry definitely had to agree with Draco on that one, the kiss or the cake, whichever. Draco glared from under his hood at a pair of wizards at the table nearest them, and they turned back to their food themselves after shifting in their seats under the stranger's stare. Harry finished the last few mouthfuls of his own butterbeer before he was ready to go. Draco stood from the seat, allowing Harry to get out before they walked back up to the bar. Draco called the waitress over and then handed her some money for their meal. She smiled at Harry behind him, obviously having been watching them, too. He had the decency to duck his head slightly, and again missed the grin she gave Draco this time, and only felt Draco's hand on his lower back before he started towards the hall to go back to the lobby.

The man at the desk wasn't there as they passed through, and Draco led the way up the stairs to the room, number four, at which Harry had to grimace, recalling his aunt and uncle at the mention of the number. He knew that number would be his least favorite in the world for the rest of his life. Draco looked at him with a strange expression when he glared at the metal number attached to the outside of the door while holding it open for Harry to pass through, but he shook his head instead of asking. Harry saw their bag lying beside the bed on what was presumably going to be Draco's side, and then he took his cloak off, listening to Draco placing Locking Charms on the door as he looked around.

It was a cozy little room and, again, only one bed. Harry felt a bit tentative about doing anything more than kissing, but he also had no idea how to ask Draco nicely if they could just make out. Finally, after he'd went to the loo and came back to take his shoes off, followed by his sweater, which left a navy blue t-shirt underneath, Harry decided that he wasn't going to say anything or start anything unless Draco did first. Draco, however, had went straight into the toilet after Harry had came out, and after a few minutes later, heard a flush, and more running water from the sink.

Harry had already taken his glasses and pants off, his t-shirt, and was now working on his socks, one of which was already stuffed into its corresponding shoe. He missed the smirk Draco gave said socks when he'd come out from the smaller room, and began to remove his own clothing. Harry pulled back the covers and shivered at the cool touch of them against his skin. Draco climbed under beside him, and lay on his back as usual. Harry shifted up as close as he ever did, and was pleased to find Draco's arm already under the pillows, and Harry quickly laid his dark-haired head over top of it. Draco shifted his hip to the side towards Harry, and Harry could definitely feel the warmth as it came closer, just above his pelvis, not even an inch away now.

Draco did feel a little odd at the situation, and he wondered when he'd become so used to sleeping in the same bed as the other boy. It wasn't at all the worst thing that could happen, but he had to admit, if even just to himself at the moment, that it felt good. He was well aware of the slight distance kept between them when they got into the bed, just like the other nights, but he was a bit uncomfortable with Harry being even more close to him. He was attracted to the dark-haired boy, and as he stared up at the ceiling, he really did wonder at what was going to happen between them next. He wasn't really the type to think about the future of a relationship, but he supposed he was a bit forced to now, considering there was an innocent life involved.

He fell asleep before he could come to any conclusion on that, but strangely, he still continued his thoughts into the dream he found himself in. The room was changed, but it was still a room. The designs and fixtures on the ceiling were different, and he sat up in bed and stood, finding himself wearing a simple but expensive robe. He turned, looking back at the bed, but Harry wasn't there, and the blankets were an entirely different color and pattern. He looked up towards the large window in the room, and a figure was standing beside it, looking out through the gap in the curtains. A pale hand reached out from the cloak the man wore, and drew the curtain closed before turning slowly. He smiled indulgently at Draco, and then he realized it was his father; then the smile turned into something darker, a scowl, and Lucius began walking towards his son.

Draco backed away, his eyes going wide as his father began to advance on him, a cruel and disappointed look on his face as he drew his wand from his cane, and started holding it up towards Draco's chest. The back of his legs hit something soft, and he sat down gratefully, and then couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut. Nothing happened. Opening them slowly, Draco stared back up at a more familiar ceiling, and then he remembered. As abruptly as it had clicked in his mind, Draco sat up in the bed, not paying attention to Harry having been lying on his shoulder, and subsequently being rolled over and his head dropped down onto the pillows at his sudden movement. "Shit," Harry mumbled to himself, still half asleep, and rather unhappy about being jostled awake by his pillow deciding to sit up in bed.

"Oh, sorry," Draco said, though with not much meaning behind the words, Harry noted. "Get up, though," he added, doing just that himself, and pulling his pants on from where they lay draped over the bag beside the bed. Harry groaned and rolled over the rest of the way, grabbing his glasses from the side table.

"What are you doing?" he managed to get out before a yawn broke into his words, and then he simply forgot the rest of what he was going to say. He sat up in the bed, knowing he needed to listen to the blond and do as he was, and get dressed himself. Harry pulled his t-shirt and sweater back on easily, and then stood up, and found himself seated back on the edge of the bed. Blinking his eyes to clear a bit of the fog in his tired mind and body, he tried again, and then pulled his pants on.

"I remembered where we're going, but we should go now before I lose it," Draco said distractedly as he pulled his shirt on and then bent down to quickly tie the laces on his boots. He was definitely ready before Harry, and Harry was sure he was about to lose it if he didn't slow down a bit. Harry didn't quite function well after being woken up in the middle of the night. Well, at least it was a good enough reason to wake him up, Harry thought as he pulled his socks on and stuffed his feet in his shoes before tying them just as quickly as Draco was.

Draco slung his cloak around himself, buttoning its clasp and then turning to Harry after he picked up their bag from beside the bed and hung it over his shoulder. Harry took a moment before he stood up, scratching at his messy hair and looked at Draco expectantly. Dawning soon came to the dark-haired boy's face as he completely woke up and realized what they were supposed to do: Apparate, while he was half asleep, no less. Harry began to shake his head, but, as Draco had been ready for this, wasn't prepared to give Harry much of a chance to whinge about it much. "Listen," he said, stepping close to Harry and sliding a hand around the other boy's neck. "I'll meet you there." Draco leaned forward to close the gap between them and opened his lips slightly to press them against Harry's, giving him a damp kiss on his lips before pulling away and smiling before he disappeared, leaving Harry with no choice but to follow.

@>*~

The classes on Monday had all brushed by carrying a strange feeling, making Ron wonder if he'd even been there. His mind had been elsewhere, and he couldn't keep it on his work. He knew it wasn't the fact that Harry was still gone, but it was more that his own life had changed now. He was still the same old Ron Weasley, except for the not so little thing to a seventeen-year-old boy that was losing his virginity. It made him feel a little odd that it was one of his best friends, but then again, he'd never really thought he'd have a girl for a best friend when he was younger, but he was proud to call Hermione that.

He looked across the Gryffindor table, watching Hermione take a bite out of her roast beef sandwich, eyes scanning the page laid out in front of her. As per usual, there was a heavy tome containing scads of useless information about some boring topic to which that page belonged, and Ron couldn't help but smile to himself. Ron looked down to his own plate, twirling his fork amongst the peas there as he let his mind wander back and relive that fateful night, and the two after that.

For a while, he'd had a bit of paranoia at Neville having known about what happened between him and Hermione. After the shy boy had sworn himself to secrecy though, the three (really, four) of them had began to grow a little closer. They'd always been friends with Neville, but there was never anything specific that they had in common, but now they had something to share. Ron still didn't want to know the slightest bit about Neville's love life. That was mainly due to his inane refusal to know anything about what the two boys did with each other, despite Hermione's skeptical looks to him, really wondering if it was simply because Zabini was in Slytherin House.

They'd all spent time in the library, a place where Ron and Hermione could hang out with the two boys, and it soon became more than just Hermione's niche. She did wonder why she'd never noticed the boys there together before, but it was most likely due to them having hidden, so as to keep their relationship a secret. They always parted ways friendly, Ron and Hermione leaving before Blaise and Neville to give them a bit of privacy.

After their first night together, Ron and Hermione had shared a few more intimate experiences with each other. They held hands most all of the time now as they walked through the castle halls, just enjoying spending time with each other. Of course, that had inadvertently led to the finding of a few crevices or alcoves to have a bit of a snog in before moving on. They'd come fairly close to flat-out sex in some of those corners, but managed to restrain themselves, and make their way back to the boys' dorm, and even in the Prefects' bathroom.

Ron could still feel the mark of a large lovebite on his collarbone from earlier, when he and Hermione had been fooling around against a wall in one of the many long-abandoned classrooms. He hadn't been too sure if he was being that good of a lover, but just judging by the sounds and praise that Hermione whispered (and sometimes quite louder than that) to him, he figured he must be doing something right after all. She wouldn't be humoring him, after all. She'd always had no problem telling him how things were, and he had no doubt she would ever keep quiet about him not doing something right. If knowing her for the past six and a half years had taught him anything, it was that.

Before lunch was over, Hermione had dragged him up to see Professor Lupin. It's not that he didn't want to go, but Ron was tired of hearing nothing new about the whereabouts of his best friend. Lupin couldn't tell them anything new, and neither of them were surprised. Their teacher looked frustrated and tired, and they soon left him to his papers and made their way back to Gryffindor Tower until afternoon classes began. Things had been the same since Friday when they'd last heard anything new about their friend, and Ron just wished he knew what prompted Harry to take off—with Malfoy, of all people, and to Durmstrang, of all places.

Ron sighed, knowing he wouldn't know until someone managed to speak with them, or when they returned. At least he hoped they returned, or maybe just Harry. Malfoy could stay, for all Ron cared. After their meal, the day continued on as it normally did. The remaining classes were straightforward, and then it was time for supper. It wasn't eventful either, aside from a Hufflepuff shooting milk out of their nose after a particularly funny joke, but even that wasn't enough to warrant a curious chuckle in their general direction at the laughter.

The Gryffindors headed back to their common room from the Great Hall. Most of them had homework to finish before the next morning, and there weren't a lot of games going on, as they all seemed to have an early morning. Ron held Hermione's hand as they stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She smiled knowingly at them, nodded politely when Ron spoke the password, and swung open for them. They walked through the threshold of the painting, still hand in hand, and only let go when Ron needed to pick up his books to start working.

Hermione had completed most of her homework for the night during supper, so she made the short trek up to her dorm to grab some more yarn before starting a new sweater. She relaxed into her favorite chair, glancing over at Ron sitting at the nearest table, glaring down at his own work. She smiled and began unraveling some of the deep green-colored string and picked up her needles. It fell quiet in the common room, and most of the older students were still recovering from the weekend at Hogsmeade, as well as attempting to battle their homework assignments.

She had shook her head at them in the morning, most of them not even half awake when they got to breakfast, and she was sure someone had fallen asleep in their porridge. A lot of their year had turned eighteen during the last summer and had been legally allowed to drink things a bit stronger than butterbeer. Of course, that certainly didn't help control any aspects of contributing to the delinquency of minors, because half of them opted to buying a round or four for their younger classmates.

When she heard Ron sigh down into his book heavily, Hermione looked up from her knitting. She couldn't feel condescending about dropping out of Divination anymore, for one thing, because it simply didn't matter, but she couldn't even smile at him having problems after what he'd told her Professor Trelawney said. The old bug-eyed woman had been spouting off about Harry's time having finally come and that, oh, she had been right all along. Hermione had been outraged at that bit of news, however, but from what Ron had told her followed the teacher's outburst, she needn't run to defend her friend. The rest of the class, even including Trelawney's most devoted students, had angrily told her to, quite succinctly, keep her big, fat yap shut.

She knew Harry would be back, right as rain, and Trelawney didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Hermione knew it couldn't really be the homework that was bothering Ron, and she knew he was bothered. He didn't sigh the way he did over Divination, so she had to ask. "Something on your mind, Ron?"

Ron looked up, genuinely unaware that he'd sighed outloud it seemed, and he watched as she set her knitting down. He watched her walk towards him, and he stared at her as she scanned over his homework before he spoke. "Well," he started, "I've been thinking ... about us, I mean."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a frown on her face as she looked back at him. She hoped he wasn't having second thoughts about their relationship, but the way he had said it didn't leave her with a lot of secure feelings.

Ron nodded, looking down again to his work. "I don't mean us, precisely, but more about, uhm ..." he paused, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts in order. It took him a moment for the right words to come together, or at least he hoped they were the right ones, because he had decided he couldn't back down from what he was about to say now that he'd started. "What I mean is, that this past weekend, you know, when we were together, we didn't use any protection," he finished, also deciding it was best to just get it over with.

He felt a blush warm his face to the very roots of his hair. He felt ashamed of himself for not thinking to use any at the time, but now that he'd had some time to replay things in his head, he realized that they hadn't exactly been careful. His mother would have his hide if she knew, so it was a good thing she didn't, he supposed. Hermione sighed to herself, overcome with relief. She almost shook her head, thinking, 'is that all?' For a moment, she had been afraid Ron would admit that he regretted their time together and wanted to just be friends again. She wasn't sure if she could have accepted that, but she was glad that wasn't the problem. "Oh, Ron, don't worry yourself sick about it."

"No?" he asked, suddenly feeling all the more worried and all the more like a big weight had been lifted at the same time.

"No," she repeated. "I took care of it before we even slept together. As you should know," she continued, though already knowing he would have forgotten this information, "the Contraceptive Spell lasts for an entire month each time it's used." She smiled back at his slightly dumbfounded look, almost beaming at the fact that he cared about it, to look out for her, and the both of them together.

Neither of them was ready to have children, still being in school, and even if they weren't, Hermione still had a career to consider first before she even thought of having kids. Aside from that, she didn't have to worry about Ron if it did happen, since she was sure Mrs. Weasley would have already beat sense enough into Ron about these issues, and would even make him 'do the right thing' by her. Hermione was sure she loved Ron with all her heart, but she wasn't ready to be tied down by children just yet.

Ron slowly started to look relieved, and she smiled at him again before leaning down towards him. She pressed a kiss to his lips, intending it to simply be a quick peck, but it turned into something deeper and wetter before they broke apart, both taking deep breaths. "Good night, Ron," she said to him, standing up and tugging her shirt straight as she headed for the stairs.

"Good night, Hermione," he replied, calling behind her. He smiled now, feeling so much better about things, but he was so tired, too. He looked back at his Divination homework, and sighed, this time clearly about the insanity that was theory on crystal balls. He left it where it was, since he didn't have to go back up to Trelawney's class until after lunch, so maybe he'd have time to finish it up before then. There were only a couple older students in the common room when Ron stood up and looked about, stretching his arms as he walked to the stairs himself.

@>*~