Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Harry Potter, and I don't claim to, so don't sue me!

Pairing: H/D (I love them together)

Plot: What if it isn't Draco who's the veela, but Harry? And what if Draco isn't the mean bastard he's portrayed in the books/films, but rather leader of his own resistance group? - one out of many resistance groups. Then add underhand dealings, secrets, kidnappings, and romance…stir, and see what you get!

Author note (please read first):

This is the entire first half of the fic (that's why it's sooo long). I've been busy reworking it, so even if you've read these chapters before it might be worth re-reading them, so you can both reacquaint yourself with my fic and also pick up any of the new bits I've added.

Second half should be out next week – it's finished except for the very last chapter, which I have written, but don't like yet.

Hope this makes up for the long wait – read it, enjoy it, and review it as always, and if I did it right it should be better than before. (or, at least, I like it better!)

Chapter 1: Goosebumps and painful beginnings

Harry shivered, a chill running up his spine and making his scalp crawl. Shaking himself hard, he leaned forward on his desk and checked the window was still locked.

Of course it was still locked, this is the same window with bars on the outside - an effective precaution the Dursleys had taken to ensure he couldn't escape. Although, given how much they hated him, Harry was surprised they didn't leave the window wide open in the hope that he did just that.

Another shiver broke him from his musings, which was just as well seeing how maudlin they had been recently. Not surprising, considering what he'd been through lately: Cedric's death, Voldemorts return, Dumbledore's revelation, his Godfather's 'death' and subsequent reappearance (once he'd figured out how to teleport himself out from behind the veil). Christ the list was endless!

Lightly jumping down from his seat on the wooden desk the Dursleys had kindly shoved in his bedroom because they had no where else to put it, Harry walked over to his bed and pulled on the threadbare black jumper he'd thrown there earlier.

A small hoot from Hedwig caught his attention, and he went over to pet her gently, apologising once again for having the relatives he did. She nipped him gently as if to tell him off for feeling guilty when it wasn't his fault, then rubbed his head with her hand, drawing his attention to the fact that it was shaking rather badly.

"I must be colder than I thought." Mumbling in surprise, Harry quickly climbed into his rickety old bed, and dragged the covers over the top of his head, cocooning himself completely. Still shivering, his eyelids suddenly felt made of lead, and he quickly dropped off to sleep, the occasional shiver racking his slender frame.

The Sun rose as it does every morning, but Harry didn't rise with it like he normally did. Indeed he slept the day away, one minute shaking violently, the next as still as the dead.

The next day was no better, it was in fact worse. He was conscious.

Waking up midday, Harry was suddenly racked with intense pain, far worse than the pain induced by the crucio curse. Doubling up on his side, tears streamed down his face, obscuring his vision even more than the lack of glasses did.

Pain dulled everything, robbing him of his sense of time, and his hearing.

The day wasted away with his form huddling in on itself, alternating between trying to claw the skin off his bones as something within fought to get out, and lying spent on the bed, hands limp and caked in his own blood by his sides.

At one point he was aware of people in his room with him, and someone screaming in horror, then the pain returned and he faded from the world once more.

Chapter 2: Revelations and awakenings

Green eyes blinked blearily open, and a hand rubbed at them in a curiously childlike gesture.

Faded wise blue met the sparkling vitality of the other, and Harry shot up in bed.


Dumbledore dipped his head slightly, his amusement returning the sparkle to his eyes that had been previously missing. "Yes Harry?"

"What are you doing in…? Wait, why am I at school?"

Finally getting a good look around him, Harry blinked as he realised he was sitting in the hospital ward at school, Madame Pomfrey bustling about in the distance, with the Headmaster sat in a chair by his bedside.

"What's the last thing you remember Harry?"

"Umm, I was at the Dursley's, and I was sick."

Nodding, Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap, then filled Harry in on what had happened next.

"You got very bad, and eventually the Dursleys realised something was wrong. They went and checked on you. When they found you Hedwig put up a big fuss, and Mr Dursley eventually let Hedwig out. She came to me, and I went to collect you."

"As to your illness. Well," The Headmaster coughed into his hand, trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile, "it isn't so much an illness, as perfectly natural."

"It appears as though one of you parents was keeping a rather large secret, my personal guess is it was your mother, who was uncommonly beautiful. Anyway, one of your parents was at least part-veela. Those with mixed blood such as yourself generally have no idea what they are, unless something happens to trigger off the change."

"Even then, the change can only occur if you have found your lifemate. Your kind, once changed, can't function at their fullest without their lifemate, and if you never change then you'd never miss not having them. The change is not necessarily triggered by your lifemate, as you may need use of your powers and change then, but such a thing is only possible after you have met you lifemate - so you can be with them as you are meant to."

"The pain you are going through is your body accommodating your new powers, and will disappear once you are fully adjusted. It was worse for you, as you didn't have any potions to distil the effects of the transformation."

"As well as greater powers, your outer appearance is also changing minutely. Not so much as to be immediately noticeable, but enough to reveal your inner nature."

"Your instincts will urge you to find your mate as soon as possible, and you may have problems at school to begin with. But you can come to any of the teachers if need be, and I am always there to talk to. If things get too bad we can move you out of the Gryffindor dorm, but we'll see how we go."

"I'm going to let you rest now, you'll probably get another dose of pain soon, but don't worry, Poppy has some more potion to ease the effects. Rest well, Mr Potter."

Rising easily despite his age, Dumbledore left the hospital wing, a mischievous twinkle appearing in his eyes as he headed off to tell Professor Snape the most recent developments.

Harry sat where he was, reeling from the amount of knowledge imparted to him so quickly, and with so little…tact.

Another shiver slowly worked its way up his body, and he tensed in preparation of the pain to follow. No sooner had he done so, then Madame Pomfrey was there, pressing a potion into his hand, and easing him back against the pillows.

Once the potion was administered a wave of drowsiness washed over him, and he realised how they were combating the pain. By getting him to sleep through it.

His last thought as his eyes slid shut was to wonder who his mate was out of all the people he'd ever met, and to pray to God it wasn't one of the Deatheater's, or even Voldemort himself. That would be too cruel.

Chapter 3: Who's the bad guy?

Time slowed, and almost held its breath, as Harry awakened again.

Opening heavy eyes, he looked around in an almost drugged manner, as the potion given him by Madame Pomfrey continued to work on his system.

Harry shook his head to knock his blurry vision into focus, then reached up to check he had his glasses on at all. Touching his hand to the side of his face, Harry realised that he didn't have his glasses on after all, just as his vision decided to obey his demands and cleared.

Blinking in surprise, the fuzziness gradually began to wear off, and he pushed himself upright as he examined the world with his new and improved eyesight.

A knock at the door interrupted his examination of the rail along his bed, and Harry glanced up in time to see Madame Pomfrey bustle through.

Harry noticed abstractly that there appeared to be a blue glow encompassing the nurse, but his attention was more caught by the gasping breath she emitted when she got a good look at him. That and the crash the tray she was carrying made, when she dropped it on the floor, its contents spilling across the green tiled floor.

"Oh, Harry!…Goodness, you've…grown, haven't you?…Umm…Hehe, I'll clean that up, later, right now you look like you need some…tender…loving …care…" Almost gasping for breath, Madame Pomfrey negligently stepped over the spillage on the normally pristine floor, and smoothly made her way to Harry's side, a weird half-smile quirking her normally stern lips.

Harry frowned slightly as he looked from the broken vial which used to contain, he presumed, some more medicine for him, to the now definitely heavy-breathing nurse.

Half-rising, he was about to suggest she have a lie-down herself, when a feminine hand on his chest halted the movement.

"Uh uh, you're meant to be resting. You just, lie back and relax, let me do all the work for you."

Harry's emerald gaze flickered down to the hand that was now caressing his chest, where his pyjama top gaped open, then followed the arm up to the face of nurse Pomfrey.

A pang of distress echoed in his mind, as he took in the nurse's askew hat, and the top three buttons that had come undone in her nurses outfit, exposing quite a large amount of breast to his gaze.

Before he could gather himself to back away, and relocate to another place - possibly Dumbledore's office - something stirred in the back of Harry's head.

A strange feeling rose up from somewhere in Harry's subconscious, like a large, furry beast, rising from something thick and viscous. This feeling forced Harry to move closer, instead of backing away as he'd intended.

This feeling then guided him to clasp the hand Madame Pomfrey was using to caress him, and then tug her closer with it.

It was also this feeling that made Harry cup the nurse's face with his other hand, and pull her down into a deep, passionate kiss.

A warm tingling quickly spread from Harry's lips, down his jaw, and deep into his body. With this warmth came clarity, and Harry realised he was sitting in a hospital bed at school, kissing the nurse.

The feeling from the back of his subconscious retreated, temporarily driven back by the warmth.

Fully in control of himself again, Harry quickly released Madame Pomfrey, who continued to cling to him, minute trembles now conspicuously racking her form.

Harry gripped her by her shoulders, and forcibly removed her lips from his own, his eyes widening in horror as the full extent of what he had just been doing impacted on him.

Now detached from his mouth, Madame Pomfrey reached for him again, her breast spilling out of her uniform with her movement, still encased in her bra, but showing far too much flesh for Harry's liking.

Moving rapidly, Harry dove off the other side of the bed, and proceeded to circle around it, in an attempt to keep Madame Pomfrey out of range.

As the two continued their unusual dance, Harry noticed the strange blue that had been surrounding the nurse when she first entered, had now diminished to a less-significant glow.

Harry paused, trying to figure out why that fact suddenly seemed so important, and was unprepared for Pomfrey's next attempt.

Seeing the object of her desire was temporarily distracted, the nurse gathered the skills remaining from her time as a chaser on her Ravenclaw's team, agilely leaping over the bed, and tackling Harry's momentarily still form.

Snapped back to the present, Harry struggled to get purchase on the slippy tiles beneath him, pushing at her in an attempt to get her to let him go.

Feeling the nurse's hand grope its way into his pyjama bottoms, Harry finally realised that he was in serious danger, albeit not the kind he was normally exposed to.

"Madame Pomfrey! Let go of me! Please?" No recognition flickered in her eyes, and Harry shook her, desperately trying to dislodge her grasping hand.


The raw shriek was torn from Harry's throat. Part voluntary, part involuntary, seeing how the nurse had just given a particularly hard squeeze to something very precious to Harry.

Too occupied with Madame Pomfrey to notice anything else, Harry didn't hear the footsteps that hammered down the hallway at his cry, nor did he hear the door bursting open.

He did, however, hear the outraged cry that followed.

"Madame Pomfrey! Severus, get her off the boy at once!"

He also felt the relief of having the woman lifted off of him, then cringed at the way she kept reaching for him, completely out of her mind for some reason.

"Harry? Harry, did she do anything to you?" The gentle voice intruded on his thoughts, and Harry tore his gaze away from the sight of Professor Snape tying the nurse down using the restraints put on the beds for seizures.

Professor Dumbledore's kind blue eyes looked at him understandingly, their twinkle dulled, but still there.

"I'm fine. What happened to her though? I mean, I…It's all so confused!" Frustration caused Harry's voice to break, and he blinked back tears for a minute, before raising his eyes to Dumbledore again.

"Professor, what's happening to me?"

Harry's shaking whisper was eloquent enough, and Dumbledore helped Harry to his feet before leading him out of the room, and down to the medical office. Snape stayed behind, presumably to keep an eye on Madame Pomfrey, and help her to calm down.

"Sit down, and I'll explain as best I can." Waving Harry into a comfortable armchair, Dumbledore than seated himself opposite him.

"Now. I told you when we last spoke that you were half-veela. You have, of course, seen a veelan before, at the quidditch world cup. This is not what you are like. You do not change forms. You do not suffer from the same jealous rages. What you must understand here, Harry, is that you are not a different breed, slightly similar to the veela. You are a wizard, with veela blood in your veins."

"This results in something else entirely. You can get humans with some veela blood, and they do turn out just like regular veela, but for some reason, a wizard and veela produce something quite different."

"As I've said before all veelas possess an almost unnatural beauty, which is the greatest part of their allure, and you have now inherited that quality. Unlike the veela though, there is no flip side to you, no ugly to your beautiful, no bad to your good. What you do have though is a need, no… hunger, for energy. All veela possess such a hunger, and they gain this through the sexual energy generated between themselves and their mate."

"You changed because your time had come, and you were lucky enough to have met your mate, which enabled the change to occur. Unfortunately, your mate wasn't there to…feed you, for lack of a better word."

"A little known fact about veela's, is that they are a similar breed to that of the succubus' and incubus'. Unlike those two though, the veela can limit their feedings to just one person; man or woman, and that person is their mate. As you have not been reunited with your mate, you will have to resort to feeding off of other people until such a time as you do find your mate."

Harry quickly butted in, as the Headmaster finally paused.

"So, I was feeding off of Madame Pomfrey?" At Dumbledore's nod, and encouraging smile, Harry continued, putting the pieces together in his head.

"And, I'll have to do that until I find my mate, at which point I focus my feeding on them?"

"Yes." Dumbledore paused, and bowed his head momentarily.

"I know that at the moment it seems like a lot to take in, and you no doubt feel bad about doing what you did to Madame Pomfrey, but you will leave her no lasting harm. If anything, I'd say she owes you an apology. Another problem with stretching your feeding to those who are not your mate, is that you have little control over how the feeding goes. Your mate would automatically know how to respond, whereas another party would be focused solely on possessing you themselves."

"This, however, can be overcome by feeding upon people as they sleep, when they are a lot more susceptible to another's control. You will also have your pick of the school, so I'd suggest you go for the ones you judge less likely to take advantage,"

"Pick of the school?"


"But, couldn't I just feed off Madame Pomfrey or take a brew to suppress the need?"

"I'm afraid not Harry. The only person who can generate enough sexual energy, towards you, for you to feed off, is your mate. The process causes no drainage to them, as they can in turn gain their energy back from you at the same time as you feed. From anybody else though, you can only take so much before it weakens them. You also need to give people time to recover in between feedings, otherwise you run the risk of taking too much, and killing them."

"The good thing about feeding off of people's lust, so to speak, is that they are always willing for you to do so. Plus, you live in a school full of adolescent teenagers, so it's not as though you run the risk of running out of lustful people."

Seeing the expression on Harry's face, Dumbledore quickly hurried on.

"You don't need to worry about all of this at once Harry, I estimate that you have at least one full day before you will need to feed again. The amount of time between feedings will lessen as you settle into your new form, and then should average out to a permanent time. You can, of course, feed whenever, but the time scale is how long you can last, before becoming driven by the need, as you were with Poppy."

"You just stay in here for a minute, and I'll send Severus to get your room set up for you. I think you'll find it more comfortable in your own rooms."

Harry nodded miserably, and clenched his fists at the thought of what he would have to do, more and more frequently, in order to survive.

"Oh, by the way, if you have any queries, or feel any differences as the days go on, I urge you to come and talk to me about them. I might not be as proficient on this subject as I am on others, but I do believe I can help some."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry gently, then quietly shut the door behind him as he went off to check on Poppy, and set Severus to work.

Harry remained slumped in his chair, wondering just how the hell he was going to survive the coming year. Somehow, Voldemort just didn't seem so bad anymore.

Chapter 4: Visible changes

Harry had been relocated to the dorm room he'd stayed in since he first entered Hogwarts, all those years ago.

The large room somehow managed to look small and cosy, with the five beds placed a reasonable distance apart, yet still looking like they were squished together.

A dark red, fluffy carpet covered the dorm floor, and pale gold drapes graced the brick walls, one on each side of the arched windows.

Each bed had its own golden drapes, which gave the boys some privacy when in bed. The beds themselves were large and comfortable, with the standard red covers transfigured to suit the bed's owner.

Seamus' bed was on the left-hand side, nearest the window. His covers were a dazzling white, with big green four-leaved clovers dotted about them.

Dean's was on the same side as Seamus, but nearer the door than his was. Dean's football poster covered a large expanse of the wall behind his bed, and his covers had been made to match it, making his one of the most colourful beds in the dorm.

Ron's was the last one on the left-hand side, and was right near the door. Something had gone wrong when Ron tried to transfigure his covers to how he liked them, and he'd ended up with bright pink ones for about a year. Ever since then he'd been desperately trying to get them to change, or at least go back to red, and he'd managed to turn them into a purplish colour, which still looked pink when the Sun hit it a certain way.

On the right-hand side of the room, nearest the door, was Neville's bed. He'd been able to successfully change his sheets, unlike Ron, and now sported light blue covers, with a scarily realistic, green Devil's Snare on the front.

On the right-hand side, nearest the window, was Harry's bed. Unlike the others, he had never bothered to transfigure his covers, not even having the faintest clue as to what he would change them to.

Despite this, Harry's bed seemed to have made up its own mind, and had immediately gone from red to dark green. His friends thought that a bit odd, but Ron had decided it must have something to do with the fact that Harry's mum had had green eyes, and the others hadn't bothered Harry about it once Ron had explained it to them.

Since then, the covers had developed what looked like black veins as the years passed, and the green of them had gotten darker as well. This gave Harry's sheets the appearance of green marble, and the other boys figured he'd continued to change them until he'd got the exact same shading on them as his mum's eyes used to be.

Occasionally a dark shadow would appear somewhere on the covers, such as an owl, or a broomstick, but the image generally faded after a day. This had led Harry to believe he'd inadvertently tuned his covers to him, and they reflected what was most prominent in his mind at the time. The dark veins which had appeared worried Harry, as he pondered if they meant his prolonged exposure to dark magic was making him go dark as well.

Despite this, he actually found he liked the design, and gradually his entire bed had darkened as well, seeming to naturally repel the sunlight. The others thought he'd found a spell, and put it on his bed in the hope the morning light wouldn't wake him when it shone through the purely decorative drapes. This darkness, though not planned for, didn't seem dangerous to Harry. He actually found it soothing - a retreat from the world of expectant faces that always greeted him.

Snape had left Dumbledore keeping an eye on Madame Pomfrey, who had since fallen into a restless sleep, which, Dumbledore explained to Harry, was the body's natural way of coping with the feeding it had been subjected to.

Sweeping along in his black robes, Snape had soundlessly led Harry to Gryffindor tower, not even looking at him on the way. Once there though, he hadn't left Harry at the portrait, but actually seen him up to his dorm, whereupon he'd briskly examined the room, sniffing his disdain, then set up a series of complex-looking charms on Harry's bed.

Upon questioning him, Snape had glared at Harry, before curtly explaining they were to make sure none of the other students decided to get 'friendly' without Harry's permission, in the middle of the night. Basically - Harry's bed was now completely safe.

Snape hadn't said anything about Harry's supposedly 'chosen' decoration for his bed, but he hadn't sniffed in disgust either. Giving Harry an indecipherable look before he left, Snape had abruptly reinforced Dumbledore's speech, about Harry mentioning any changes in his behaviour or moods, etc., then he'd continued on his way, as though he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

Since then, Harry had just sat on his bed, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Yet, despite being tired out because of everything that had happened, he could still feel energy bubbling away beneath it all. The energy he'd stolen from Madame Pomfrey.

It was becoming obvious to Harry that he didn't need the sexual energy to replace his day-to-day food source, as he could clearly feel the energy he had taken, but it was having no effect on his state of being - namely his physical tiredness. So it must be for something else.

His head bowed, Harry tried to figure out if these latest developments were a good thing or a bad thing, but so far all he knew were the basics, he didn't know anything about what effect this 'change' would have on his powers or even his normal behaviour patterns.

After spending another good couple of minutes trying to compartmentalise what had actually happened, and all of the consequences of that change, Harry gave up on it, and stood up to take a, hopefully, re-energising shower.

The showering stalls echoed strangely when Harry entered, and felt a lot bigger than they normally did, due to the absence of any other students. Twisting the shower's dial, Harry turned the spray on, and changed the temperature to his liking.

Several minutes of pounding hot water, and Harry wasn't as bothered by the emptiness of the room any more. By the time he started spreading soapsuds over his body, he wasn't thinking about the empty room at all anymore, and was enjoying the solitude for once.

When the warm water started to run out, he quickly ducked his head under the spray, and rinsed all the soap off of himself.

A minute later he wrapped a towel around his hips after he'd roughly towel-dried his hair with it, then stepped up to one of the mirrors above the sinks near the doors, to get his hair in some semblance of order after its brisk scrubbing.

Spelled to remain unaffected by the steam created from the showers, the mirrors were clear. At the first glimpse he'd had of himself since he'd been locked up by the Dursleys, Harry froze.

Hair that had always been described in terms of messy, and uncontrollable, was now down to his shoulders, and curly. Even sticking up all over the place thanks to Harry's harsh rubbing, it was still sleek-looking, and very definitely curly. Falling in ringlets to be precise. Yet, somehow not looking very girlish at all.

His face and body could have had something to do with that.

Thanks to malnutrition they had a permanent leanness to them, and the fact that Harry didn't do weight-lifting or anything like that meant he hadn't developed big bulging muscles like other boys his age sometimes do. Instead, his body was lined with sleek, toned muscles, and what had previously been a haggardly gaunt face, now served to emphasise his bonestructure, and gave him an almost ephemeral appearance.

Almost struck dumb at the sight, Harry cautiously gripped a curl in his hand, and gave it a gentle tug. Holding his breath, he accepted the pressure he felt on his scalp from the pull, and watched as the curl unravelled, causing the strand to be even longer than before, then roll back up on itself when released.

Letting go of the breath of air he'd been holding, Harry gripped the sink in front of him with trembling hands, staring into the milky white bowl as if it held all of the answers.

Raising his gaze again, Harry visibly flinched when his green eyes glinted back at him from the mirror, then he slowly raised his eyes higher, and reached out a hand to brush a curl away from his forehead.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry almost jumped when his vision suddenly magnified itself, giving him a closer view of his forehead than he had been anticipating.

No large red scar zigzagged across his forehead, and for a minute Harry almost felt grateful for this new situation he found himself in. Until he realised he was equally, if not more, noticeable now.

Turning away, Harry missed the slight glimmer that came from his forehead, as the small, now silver, scar caught the light.

Chapter 5: Umm…hi?

Harry tugged at his hair despairingly, but nothing could make it revert to its old state of messiness.

Having spent the remaining days he had on his own getting acquainted with his changed physique, he no longer felt half-scared to touch anything, although the mirror still managed to shock him.

The first day on his own Harry had felt perfectly fine, he'd gone down and eaten his meals in the Great Hall, trying to ignore the stares he'd garnered from the teachers there. Then he'd gone flying, at first to calm himself with the feeling of doing something familiar, but then to get used to the difference he felt with his altered build, and to compensate for those changes.

The second day went…slightly differently.

The morning came and went the same as the day before, except for the minor fact that Harry was even more keenly aware of people watching him than before. He also clued in to the fact that they were staring at him in lust, rather than shock as he had previously assumed. This caused a tingle of apprehension to go down his spine, but Harry shrugged it off as unimportant.

By mid-afternoon though, Harry felt like he was being suffocated.

A growing pressure had been building in the back of his conscious since he'd gotten up that morning, and it had gotten more prominent as the day passed.

It was almost like a headache in the feeling of it, but, unlike a headache, it pointed things out to him. When one Professor walked past him in the corridor, Harry felt what can only be described as a nudge in his head, and next he knew, he was walking backwards staring at the Professor's arse as he walked away.

It wasn't just sexual things it pointed out though, at times his vision magnified without him meaning to do it, drawing Harry's attention to a particularly unusually shaped crack in the ceiling. One time his hearing zoned in on the cry of a single bird outside in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry was able to ignore the feeling for the most part. It was always there in the back of his head, and it played up occasionally, just like a headache when not treated, but the only severe symptom Harry suffered from it was that it kept him enormously distracted.

This distraction almost got him in a very tricky situation.

As it turned out, when Harry needed to feed he automatically turned on his 'charm', so to speak, which was why he'd felt as though he was being stared at more that day than the day before, because he was being stared at more.

This affected the Professors to such a degree, that one of the ones who had weaker control of themselves than the others, took it upon themselves to corner Harry in a corridor, and would have very easily gotten their way with Harry had Professor McGonagall not happened upon them in time.

Finally giving up on his hair, Harry stubbornly refused to brush it and made his way to the Great Hall, not noticing the way it smoothed itself into perfect ringlets again as he moved.

Harry was the only student in the Great Hall again, and the Professors all stared at him, more so than the previous day.

This time Harry was completely oblivious, wolfing down his cereal as fast as he could in his current state, which remained quite slow, since he kept forgetting he was meant to be eating the spoonfuls he was loading up.

The headache from the day before, which had come and gone at the strangest times, had turned into a continuous buzzing, which gradually rose in volume.

Harry was so distracted by the soundless noise in his head, that he didn't even notice the way he had started to glow.

The first time only lasted a second, then quickly sputtered out, but the next time the glow lasted slightly longer before going out.

Giving up on his breakfast, Harry pushed the half-full bowl away, then carefully made his way back to his dorm room, hoping a lie-down would make him feel steadier on his feet.

Lunchtime came and went, with Harry restlessly sleeping through it. Dinnertime approached, and with it, his classmates and friends.

Harry roused when his friends' trunks appeared on their beds, and he stumbled down to eat, glowing like a glow-worm's butt during the mating season.

Opening the door a crack, Harry quietly sidled into the Great Hall, trying to inconspicuously sneak down the aisles full of people, to get to the Gryffindor table.

As he went past each table they gradually fell silent, taking in the glowing, elfin boy who was, to their eyes, gliding through their midst.

By the time Harry made it to his seat, in between Ron and Neville, opposite Hermione, the entire hall was staring at him.

As Harry reached for the jug of juice in the middle of the table, he happened to bump shoulders with Neville and Ron, unconsciously drawing on some of their energy. Harry's head immediately cleared slightly, and the boys on either side of him relaxed slightly, as some of their lust left them.

Becoming aware of the countless eyes fixed on him, Harry sheepishly raised his head. Briefly looking into Hermione's shocked brown eyes, he then turned his head slowly to look at the rest of the hall.

A moment passed in silence, then everyone jumped slightly and spun back around, engaging their companions in mindless chatter, cheeks burning as they pretended they hadn't been staring.

The bolder ones tried to capture Harry's gaze, whilst others just continued to stare, not caring that they had been caught out.

Harry ignored everyone, his green eyes seeking out someone in particular. Grey eyes calmly met and held green, searching them for an instant, before Draco dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Harry felt flushed for some reason as he nodded in return, and quickly spun back to his own table, putting the odd feeling down to the unusual events.

By unspoken agreement his friends left off their inquisition until they were alone, and they all continued with their meal, as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Joining in with them, Harry continuously brushed against those near him, his hand even touching Seamus' by accident when they both reached for the same dish. All of this helped Harry's head to clear, and if at the end of the meal, Neville and Ron felt a bit more tired than usual, they just put it down to good food and a tiring journey.

By the end of the meal, Harry was feeling more clear-headed than he had since he'd fed on Madame Pomfrey, which was probably a good thing, considering the questioning he now faced. He had also stopped glowing, although his skin remained as luminescent as it had since the change had occurred, and this resulted in fewer stares. So things weren't starting as badly as he had expected, but that could still change.

Chapter 6 : Can you bluff with the best?


Ron quirked his eyebrows expectantly, but Harry continued staring at him, clueless.

Hermione sighed to herself, then butted Ron out of the way. He was such an amateur at this inquisition thing.

"Harry," His eyes moved to her, and she had to pause to swallow when faced with his glittering gaze. "What Ron is trying to say, is…how come you look so hot?"

Ron's face turned bright red, as he slowly turned his head in her direction. Faced with his scandalised expression, her own turned into one of shock and embarrassment, as she berated herself for saying it out loud.

"Umm…what I meant to say was…"

Harry stopped her fumbling with a wave of his hand. He shook his head to dispel his own stunned expression, then dropped down onto his dorm bed as he tried to find something to tell them in place of the truth.

To begin with Harry had been relieved when his friends had suggested they relocate to Harry and Ron's dorm to 'talk' about 'stuff'. He'd figured it would be best to tell them the truth out of other people's hearing, since this wasn't a secret he particularly wanted certain others to know.

As fast as his surprise over Hermione's willingness to creep into the boy's dorm had faded, so had his self-belief that telling them the truth was the best course of action.

He himself found it hard to believe, and was struggling to cope with the changes that his heritage entailed. How would his friends cope with the idea that he had to 'feed' off of people. As is that wasn't bad enough in and of itself, the thing which he fed off of - lust - was sure to raise their eyebrows at the very least. Not to mention they would be embarrassed by the fact that he could practically 'taste' their lust for him - as proven by Hermione stuttering over the mere fact that she'd told Harry to his face that she thought he was 'hot'.

Then came something even harder for him to face. The fact that they might think he wanted to feed from them, and the fact that he already had. It was only by feeding from them through casual touch that he'd managed not to attack someone like he had Madame Pomfrey.

So now Harry found himself struggling to come up with something plausible that they could accept. If they had thought the changes in him could occur naturally, they wouldn't have brought it up, so that meant he had to come up with something unnatural which caused the changes in him.

A spell gone wrong maybe, but with no permanent harm, and therefore no reason for Hermione to go out of her way researching and trying to correct it. If that happened she'd undoubtedly figure out it was a lie.

Looking up, Harry saw his friends had crowded closer, identical looks of concern apparent on their faces.

"Well…" They leaned in, and Harry desperately searched his mind for a spell to pretend went wrong.

"…I went through some changes over the holidays."

"I think we've gathered that already." Ron muttered, casting a glance at Hermione's absorbed expression as she looked at Harry.

"I…" Harry trailed off, looking down at his lap with a frown. His hands twisted together nervously, as Harry ran through everything that had happened, forgetting for the moment that he was meant to be lying to his best friends.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, then back at Harry. Letting him sort out whatever it was he was doing, they took his distraction to look him over thoroughly.

Harry had grown slightly over the holiday, making him taller than Hermione, but still not as tall as Ron had become.

His hair seemed blacker than before, when it had been brown verging on black, and it had curled as well. Ron mentally put that down to all Harry had gone through, how else could hair go that curly so quickly, without it having something to do with stress and fright?

Hermione was more interested in the way his hair was completely smooth, with every strand falling into a different ringlet, and yet still gave off the appearance of being dishevelled. It might have had something to do with the way it spilled over Harry's shoulder as he sat with his head bowed, appearing as smooth as silk and yet still rebellious and masculine.

Other than that there was nothing radically different about him. He had the same features, the same black glasses, the same clothes. It was more like his features had refined themselves, lending him a grace which had been buried under his shyness and insecurity, but now seemed to almost burst out of him.

His body had changed more than just height-wise. The clothes which had been so baggy before were still baggy, but it looked deliberate now, and they still didn't conceal the fact that he had toned up nicely.

Harry finally raised his head, and Ron and Hermione both blushed the instant his extraordinary eyes landed on them, one of his eyebrows rising in silent question.

"According to Dumbledore this is completely natural for me."

"I've just…grown into myself I guess. Like you two have, I mean…look at you! Hermione, you have curves, and Ron…you're tall…er."

Seeing the glares he was receiving from both Ron and Hermione, Harry wisely decided to shut his mouth.

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry for a moment, before deciding that he was telling them at least some of the truth, then they nodded their acceptance and Ron launched into dissecting the latest quidditch game for Harry's benefit.

Hermione sat down on Neville's bed, and interjected the occasional comment, but her mind was far away.

Harry hadn't told them everything, of that she was certain, why though she didn't know. Silently filing that fact away for later consideration, Hermione resolved to be extra vigilant of Harry's behaviour, and possibly tell Draco of the latest development. It would definitely be something he'd want to know about.

Underneath the surface of the school there are secrets to be unveiled,

Admission can't be forced, it must be given freely,

Only the true can be shown the truth,

Only the worthy can offer aid,

And only the heroes can lead the way,

Prophecy of the Circle of Light;

A group which co-worked with the Order of the Phoenix in the battle for the light side

Chapter 7 : Changed Personality?

The next day went normal enough, considering the incident that occurred in the morning, and the fact that a large proportion of the school had taken up the habit of Harry watching.

Ron and Hermione seemed to be brushing off the oddities though, and for that Harry was thankful. He had enough problems to deal with, nevermind questions from friends which he'd rather not have to answer. He'd begun to hunger again, and the casual touches didn't seem to be working anymore.

Harry had developed his own theory for that; his friends had been surprised by the changes he'd undergone, and that had made it easy to feed off of them. Now though, they appeared to be more comfortable around him, or at least were more used to his physical appearance, making them either not inclined to lust over him, or more capable of controlling it when he was around.

Whilst Harry was extremely glad to know that he no longer affected his friends, in 'that' way, this did present a problem for the future.

Harry remained absorbed with this problem, and his growing hunger all morning. His friends exchanged glances of worry about him when he sat and poked at his food during breakfast, but by third lesson; Herbology with Slytherins and Ravenclaws, they'd given up on trying to get Harry to tell them what was wrong.

As Harry absentmindedly pruned his Wiskerfey plant, he turned over the problem in his head, ignoring the faint feeling of something rising inside him.

If he couldn't feed off of people near him through casual touch, which he had a feeling wouldn't have worked for very long anyway, given how quickly he'd started hungering again, then he needed to find an alternative.

The only things he could come up with was bumping into as many people as he could find, hoping that they would still lust after him enough for a decent feeding, and that they'd be too surprised to control it. If that didn't work then he'd have to resort to more extensive feedings like the Headmaster had hinted at.

That would have to be the very last resort though, as the idea of crawling into people's dorm rooms in order to feed on their lust as they slept, was still too foreign an idea for Harry to accept. He'd have to be a lot more desperate before he'd willingly turn to it. Despite his disgust over the idea, the part of him that he was trying to suppress - the new part of him - grew more…restless…at the thought.

Shaking himself enough to free himself of his thoughts, Harry ignored the feeling of anticipation that had begun to emanate from inside, and looked down in time to see a hand stop his from snipping the last leaf off of his Wiskerfey.

Looking up Harry found his gaze met and held by a pair of familiar grey eyes. Too surprised to do anything but watch, Harry offered no protest as Draco carefully removed the sharp pruning shears from Harry's hands.

"Wouldn't want you to fail Herbology now, would we?"

Offering a faint smile at Harry's uncomprehending face, Draco placed the shears on the table next to Harry's plant, then moved back to his own table, at the other end of the shed.

Looking from Draco to his plant, and back again, Harry's brain suddenly cleared, as his 'unwelcome guest', as he'd taken to calling the urge in him to feed, drew back, sated. But by what? Had Draco's slight touch to Harry's bare hand been enough to sate him, whereas touching everyone he could all morning had only seemed to sharpen it?

Not dwelling on that thought, Harry found he was now capable of paying attention in class again, and realised that Draco had managed to stop him just as he completed the assignment given them. Wait a sec…since when did Harry start calling Malfoy, Draco? Harry felt himself unexpectedly blushing, as he realised his transgression, even if it had only occurred in his head.

"Harry, mate? Are you feeling all right? You've gone kind of…pink."

Ron cautiously placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, concern shining through his aura. Huh,…aura?

Harry blinked, warm blue afterimages appearing on his eyelids when he closed his eyes, but when he looked again all he could see was Ron. No blue mist swirling around his body, reaching out to Harry in an attempt to soothe him, just his best mate's blue eyes peering at him worriedly.

Deciding he'd imagined it, Harry quickly reassured Ron that he was fine, he'd just been daydreaming. This resulted in Harry then having to explain to Ron what the muggle phrase 'daydreaming' meant, after which you could practically see him coming up with a way he could slip it into conversation to prove to Hermione that he did know some muggle stuff.

Glad to have sufficiently distracted his friend, Harry looked over at Hermione where she was arguing over some fact or other with Sarah Jonssen, from Ravenclaw.

Turning to his parchment, Harry quickly did the required diagram of his freshly pruned plant, and then turned to the calculating of how long it should take for it to re-grow. They'd then check up on it later in the week, and chart its growth progress.

With the work out of the way, Harry returned to his thoughts, but this time he was drifting voluntarily, not because his hunger was clouding his mind too much for him to think coherently.

The game had nearly been up this morning, when Ron had come to wake Harry up. It wasn't like Harry to oversleep, and he was normally the one to rouse Ron from his slumber, but Harry had found he was increasingly tired lately. Something to do with not 'feeding' properly, or so Dumbledore had said when Harry had informed him of it before the other students arrived.

Dumbledore hadn't seemed overly worried about Harry's sudden lack of energy, and cheerfully told Harry that he was sure his body was just preparing itself to meet his mate. Why his body felt getting six hours more sleep per day than he usually did would be important for meeting his mate, Harry didn't get, but at the twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes he'd decided not to ask.

One factor they'd all forgotten to take into account though were the charms Snape had placed on Harry's bed, and the effect they'd have if Ron should try to wake Harry up by shaking his shoulder, which he did the first morning back.

After waking up an hour late because Harry hadn't woken him like he normally did, Ron had spent ten minutes cursing at the clock in an attempt to get it to turn back time, and then another five minutes gawping at Harry as he lay in bed, still asleep.

When he'd finally recovered from the shock of seeing his best friend still in slumberland, despite being the earliest early bird Ron had ever known (another muggle phrase Harry had taught him, and he took great delight in using it), Ron had taken it upon himself to return the favour Harry had bestowed on him since they'd first come to Hogwarts. Namely, waking him up.

So, reaching a hand over Harry's still form, Ron had prepared to shake him awake. He was not expecting to be sent flying across the room before he could lay a finger on his best mate, with an alarm blaring out of no-where.

A groggy Harry had fallen out of bed in his shock, and Ron had only raised his head over the top of Dean's bed when the alarm had finally stopped its siren call.

It had taken Harry nearly half an hour to calm Ron down enough to apologise and explain he hadn't done it deliberately, and he hadn't known that would happen. By this time McGonagall had managed to usher away the crowd of Gryffindors who'd come to the boy's dorm-room door, and Hermione had joined the two.

So then Harry had explained how once the Headmaster had seen the changes Harry had undergone over the holidays, he'd ordered Snape to place the charms over Harry's bed to ensure Harry didn't receive any 'unwanted attention'.

Once Ron had got over his outrage at being practically accused of wanting to jump Harry, and force him against his will, Hermione had calmly inserted that under the circumstances, she thought it was probably a good idea. Before that could send Ron into another tizzy, Hermione had clarified what she meant. Revealing that she'd heard of several plots to 'catch' Harry alone, and 'get to know him better'.

That had calmed Ron completely, and since then he'd become completely focused on protecting Harry from his supposed 'suitors'. Harry was more concerned with how Hermione had found out about these 'plots' in the first place.

Sure, she was a nice enough girl, and one of Harry's best friends, but outside of their trio Harry hadn't known she had any other people she particularly called 'friends'. Most of the other girls in their year were either scared off by her intelligence, or thought she was stuck on herself because of it.

The years below had been raised on tales of 'The-boy-who-lived', and since arriving at Hogwarts had been treated with tales of the 'Golden-trio', as somebody had laughingly called them. This resulted in them believing themselves to be too young to be friends with such 'greatness', and casting half-envious, half-scared glances at the three of them whenever they chanced upon them in the corridors.

So just who had Hermione been talking to? Or had she been eavesdropping? In which case, since when had Hermione been that good at spying on people?

Harry frowned, disturbed to find himself subconsciously going over everything Hermione had said, looking for something suspicious. He wondered if this was something else related to what he was, since it would never have occurred to him to question Hermione or her motives before this change.

Looking over to where he'd last seen her, his frown increased when he discovered she'd moved. All self-recrimination vanished, and his eyes swept the humid shed with a hunting light. The thing he'd come to associate with his hunger lifted its head in him, and almost scented the air, searching for Hermione and loading Harry with an almost sixth sense.

Finally locating her over near Drac…Malfoy, Harry relaxed before narrowing his eyes and magnifying the view, on some instinct that was suddenly triggered.

He really must have been given some kind of sixth sense, because he happened to magnify his vision in time to see Hermione reach into a pot and withdraw a balled up piece of paper.

She unrolled it and ran her eyes over what must have been text, but unfortunately it was angled away so Harry couldn't catch the glimpse he'd have needed to zoom in on it. Whatever she read must have satisfied her, because she scribbled something on the paper using her wand, then rolled it back up and dropped it into the pot again.

She continued walking as though nothing had happened, and Harry watched for a moment as she made her way back to the desk she was working at, before switching his attention back to the pot.

Once Hermione was completely out of the way, one of Malfoy's friends, a boy with dark brown hair and a lean figure…Blaise Zabini, approached the pot. He cast his hazel eyes in every direction, and Harry dropped his own gaze lest he be caught out, but upon raising them again he saw the boy reach into the pot and withdraw the ball of paper.

Slipping it into his robe's pocket, the boy then strolled back to the table he was working on next to Malfoy. Blaise settled himself on his seat, then casually reached into his pocket and withdrew the paper, passing it to Malfoy without hesitation.

Draco Malfoy bent his blond head to read the note in his cupped hands, his hair swung forward concealing his expression. A few moments passed, and Harry didn't realise his eyes were wandering, until he noticed he'd magnified his vision on Draco's arse as he sat on his chair.

Coughing slightly, Harry jerked his eyes away, a blush again spreading across his cheekbones. So absorbed in trying to mentally scrub his brain out with soap, Harry didn't notice Draco looking up and nodding at Hermione when she caught his gaze. Nor did he see both of them look at him, one pair of grey eyes narrowing in worry, whilst a shrewd pair of brown eyes swung between the two speculatively.

Chapter 8 : Why do these things happen to me?

It had been two days since Harry had observed the incident with the pot in Herbology, and everything seemed the same as always. Except not.

The hunger hadn't made an appearance again yet, but Harry refused to dwell on the why behind that. So Harry was participating in lessons at full capacity again, if not more.

Since he'd been told about his…peculiarity, Harry had been held in the grip of helplessness. The idea of having control over something he did, even if only studying, was something he eagerly grabbed at with both hands. His Professors were already commenting on the improvement in his class work, and he himself felt he understood the actual workings behind it all much better than before.

If Hermione had been surprised about his sudden interest in academia, she hid it well, instead offering to lend him what books she had on each subject, which went beyond what they were told to get. Harry leapt at the chance, and Ron had been dismayed when Harry had developed the habit of disappearing into his dorm room every chance he got, to read up on school-stuff.

Despite what Professor Snape knew about Harry, he still treated Harry with the same disdain and scorn he had before, whilst keeping a close eye on him at the same time.

He'd had a single potions lesson their first day back, and Snape had set the boundaries of their contact immediately, taking five points from Gryffindor when Harry had sneezed during his lecture.

The next day had started off with a double potions lesson, and Snape had remained the same. Harry had discovered his fascination with learning by then, and as a result found himself suddenly fearless of Snape's lashing tongue. In Harry's new way of thinking, what did the teacher matter, in comparison to what was taught.

Snape had been as surprised as everyone in the class when Harry had raised his hand whilst brewing a potion along with everyone else. When Harry had politely asked an important, intelligent question concerning the potion brewing, Snape had actually sputtered for a moment before gathering himself and responding. At the end of the lesson, Professor Snape had sufficiently recovered enough to set Harry a four feet essay, on the potion he had 'found such an interest in'.

This hadn't bothered Harry, and he found he had actually enjoyed the opportunity to research the potion more thoroughly. Deciding against letting Snape know that, lest he change his method of punishment, Harry had dutifully done the work set, then gone back over everything they'd done in previous years, and researched each potion and property as thoroughly.

All of the extra work Harry had done over that short period of time, was beginning to take up a lot of room, and the pieces of parchment were beginning to stick out from under his bed. Therefore Harry charmed his trunk, creating a filing cabinet in the bottom, with each drawer neatly labelled with the subject and what it contained. When he placed the removable base of the trunk on the top of the filing cabinet, it immediately compressed into the trunk and remained undetectable, unless someone should lift the bottom again.

Neither Ron or Hermione had any idea the true extent of extra work Harry had been doing, nor were they aware of how easy studying seemed to come to him now.

Harry hadn't slept for three days. Whatever had satisfied his hunger, had inadvertently revealed at least part of the use the sexual energy could be put to.

Whilst he still needed food and drink to keep going, it appeared he didn't need sleep, so long as he was well fed…in 'that' way.

Harry had no idea how long the buzz, as he'd taken to referring to it, would last, so he resolved to make the most of it. Devoting all of his free time, and sleep time to studying, Harry had managed to go over everything they'd done in previous years, in all subjects, and read ahead for the coming year.

With the help of Hermione's lent books, Harry had discovered he could memorise whatever he read, as well as read at an accelerated speed. He'd gone through all of the books Hermione had lent him the first night he'd had them, but he kept them for longer so it wouldn't look like he'd read them too fast.

Harry was now on the fourth night of no sleep. It wasn't quite bed time yet, but Harry was already curled up underneath his unusual covers. Ron was playing chess with Dean, Seamus yelling encouragement at the latter, whilst Hermione checked some books out of the library.

Harry had finished all of the assignments given him, and extra, but he felt it preferable to lie in bed, bored, then sit in the common room, bored, where people sat and stared at him constantly.

Time crawled by, and eventually the other boys arrived to go to sleep. Harry grunted and rolled over, eyes closed, pretending he was already asleep. He felt their eyes run over him, with all of them radiating some degree of concern for him.

Some time later, their breathing finally evened out into the regular breathing patterns of those that are unconscious, and Harry's eyes snapped open. Something, somewhere, was happening.

How he knew that Harry had no idea, it was just instinctive, like when he'd magnified his vision in Herbology, or when he'd ducked the wave of potion Neville had accidentally knocked in his direction the other day.

Just as he was about to get out of bed and check it out, one of the other boys moved in their sleep. Or so Harry assumed, until Neville heaved himself out of his bed. Swiftly shutting his eyes, Harry relaxed his facial expression, as Neville scanned the dorm room with his eyes.

Neville had slimmed down over the holidays, and muscled up a bit. He no longer looked like the class clown, but a refined, gentle person, similar to Professor Lupin in looks, although no-where near as old.

He'd obviously learned stealth over the holidays as well, if the way he crept out of the dorm room was any indication.

Harry waited for the count of fifteen breaths, then followed after him, his body naturally falling into the tracking of pre…a person. Leaving the glasses he no longer needed, on his bedside table, Harry went through the door Neville had left open and followed the disturbed air currents.

He'd gone through the portrait of the Fat Lady, and was stealthily making his way along the cold, dark stone hallway by the time he caught sight of Neville again.

Upon seeing the boy's back, Harry automatically flattened himself to the side of the hallway, his fingers tensing in the rough stone. Neville tensed and paused, his head tilting to the side, fists clenching.

Harry cursed in his head. Sure he was pressed to the side of the corridor, but still in plain view should Neville choose to…

Neville spun around, wand appearing out of no-where and pointing back the way he'd come. His gaze swung from left to right, taking in the dark, empty corridor behind him. Turning sideways, Neville checked the way he was going just to be extra sure, then continued on his way.

Neville made it to the end of the corridor, then swung around a corner and disappeared, going down to the lower sections of the castle.

A few minutes passed once he'd gone, then Harry released his hold on the ceiling, and lightly dropped to the ground.

He landed in a light crouch, as soundlessly as he had leapt up in the first place. Harry bowed his head for a moment, examining his hands as he brushed them off, then his head came up, green eyes glinting as a smile spread across his face. Maybe this veela thing wasn't so bad after all.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Harry's smile vanished, all too quickly remembering how he gained these abilities - by using others as a food source.

Leaving it for now, Harry also refrained from wondering how he'd gone from being pressed against the side of the corridor, to clinging upside down to the ceiling, with his bare hands. Absently dusting himself off once more, Harry moved down in the direction Neville had gone, hoping there wouldn't be any more close encounters again tonight.

Chapter 9 : Spider to the fly? (fly à insect à bug spy)

Neville had slowed down, according to the air currents, and Harry immediately adjusted his own speed accordingly.

What the hell was Neville, of all people, doing down in the Main Hall? To begin with Harry had been sure he'd been headed to the dungeons, but about halfway there Neville had paused, and Harry had been close enough to hear him swear briefly, before turning on his heel and changing directions.

At first Harry had assumed Neville had realised he was being followed, but Neville hadn't tried to draw him out, or wavered from his new course once.

Neville had gone down to the entrance hall, and Harry hovered on the stairs above it, pressing close into the shadows, lest Neville look up.

Just as Harry was about to go down and see what Neville was looking for, the sound of footsteps made him dive behind the large painting on the wall behind him. Holding his breath, Harry gripped the painting at the edges, and dragged it as close to him as possible, to make it look like it was hanging normally.

"Did you get away all right?" The husky voice sounded as though it was right next to Harry, and he almost jerked in alarm, until he remembered his improved hearing and managed to control his reaction.

The voice sounded harried, but familiar despite that fact.

"Yes, Draco. They were asleep, it was remarkably easy, except for…"

Draco…Harry knew the Slytherin had been up to something lately. Even if Harry had been out of it a bit, there was that incident in the shed, and the lack of animosity from the Slytherin had registered even on Harry's rather…distracted brain.

"Even Harry was sleeping? And what do you mean; except for…? Did something happen? Are you sure you weren't followed?"

The green eyed boy stilled, forgetting to breathe, when he heard the concern in that husky voice. Why would Draco be concerned about him? He should be jumping for joy that his enemy…hang on, how did they know Harry hadn't been sleeping? He'd be so careful not to attract attention.

"Yep, he was sleeping like a baby. At least we have that piece of good news, anyway."

"Neville! Were you followed!"

Harry's eyes widened at the sound of Hermione's urgent voice. Hermione…was involved in this? Harry had suspected it since the note incident, but having the proof of it shoved into his face was just too much, and he suddenly found himself having trouble breathing.

"Well, I thought I was, but when I checked there was no sign of anybody. I was using that Revealingto spell you taught us Hermione, so there was nobody using an invisibility spell, or an invisibility cloak, or anything like that. There was just…nobody."

Harry fervently wished he could see what was going on. All he could do was listen, and despite his enhanced hearing, he still didn't know if they were secretly signalling he was hidden, or who else was out there. There had definitely been more than two sets of footsteps coming towards him, but he couldn't see who was there.

All of a sudden Harry could hear people moving, through the rushing noise in his ears. His friend, one of his best friends, was meeting with the person who was supposed to be Harry's enemy, behind his back, and now they were scurrying off to go have a secret meeting or something, somewhere. And Harry couldn't see.

As soon as the thought fully penetrated Harry's mind, he realised that it was actually true. He couldn't see. Not couldn't see, as in, it was too dark to see. As in, he couldn't see the light that had been seeping around the edges of the painting.

All sound stopped, and Harry panicked, thinking he'd gone deaf as well as blind. Letting go of the painting, he reached up with a trembling hand to his ears, tracing their familiar shape in the endless dark he'd been so suddenly plunged into. From there, he felt his way across his face, reaching his eyes and feeling his eyelashes fluttering against his fingertips.

Cautious, gentle fingertips told Harry what he already knew. His eyes were wide open, yet he couldn't see, and his eyes didn't even sting at the contact.

"Draco, you know Neville's abilities better than anyone,"

Hermione's voice, crystal clear, reached Harry's ears, and he calmed, glad he was able to hear still. Her voice sounded hesitant, the tone one Harry had only ever heard her use with people she deemed important, like her Professors.

"Yes, Hermione? What are you getting at?"

A deep sigh followed Draco's words, as though she were reluctant to voice her thoughts. Something Harry had never encountered Hermione doing before, she always spoke her mind.

"He's never wrong about being followed. If the spell didn't work, then they must have found a way to get around it, or else I missed something. Neville always knows, Draco. I think we need to approach Harry, and soon, before things get out of our control."

"Okay. You can ease the way, and I'll talk to him in two days. I think that's as soon as we can do it, without making anyone too suspicious."

A rustle, and then two pairs of feet hurrying in the direction everyone else had gone before.

Harry just stood there for a moment, hands still touching his eyes. Slowly he lowered his arms to his sides, and then slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

Even when he felt the painting move away from in front of him, Harry couldn't see. Not even those splashes of colour which some blind people had described seeing.

After trying to snap his eyes into focus, Harry gave up and accepted that he'd have to find his way back to his dorm, without bumping into anyone, and without seeing where he was going. Might be a bit difficult, seeing how the staircases had nasty habit of swinging around when you were halfway up them.

Getting to his feet, Harry stumbled across the mini landing, walking until he bumped into the stone banister. Turning to the left, Harry felt his way along the banister, until he reached the bottom of the second set of stairs. Since he hadn't gone down the staircase, to the entry hall, Harry only had two flights of stairs to navigate, as opposed to three. Thank God for small mercies.

Harry gradually got the hang of it, only walking into a stone wall, four times, which, considering how much stone there was, was quite a miracle.

After what seemed an eternity, Harry reached Gryffindor tower, or at least he hoped it was. He walked until he met a wall, rather…abruptly, then felt along the wall until his fingers brushed the edge of a painting. Checking it was the right size to be the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry cleared his throat, and straightened.

"Is this Gryffindor tower?"

Cursing himself for not being able to think of something that didn't sound quite so stupid, Harry held his breath, hoping desperately that he wasn't standing there talking to a blank portrait hole, or the wrong portrait even.

"Of course it is dear, surely you can't have forgotten me already. Oh, or is this some kind of quiz, to test my knowledge? You really shouldn't just spring something like that on me dear, I need at least a day to brush up on my knowledge, why I was just talking to violet about quizzes the other day, and do you know…"

Yep, the right portrait all right.

"I was just checking your immediate knowledge, not beginning a long quiz thing…Snitcharoony."

The Fat Lady stopped talking abruptly, and swung outwards, brushing past Harry's nose with a blast of air. Harry walked forwards until his toes bumped into the wall, then carefully stepped in, gripping the sides of the hole to keep himself steady.

Getting across the common room was the hardest task, as people had a nasty habit of leaving things lying around on the floor, and Harry had no idea what new things had been added, since he hadn't been down long enough to notice recently.

Finally reaching the boys staircase, Harry was limping slightly, and could feel blood dripping from a gash on his hand. He counted to make sure he went up the right number of steps, noticing for the first time just how far up his room was in the tower. Harry stumbled getting in the dorm room, and instantly froze, holding his breath as he waited to see if anyone was awake.

All he could hear was the gently breathing of the boys, and the occasional soft snore from Ron. Neville's bed was suspiciously quiet, and Harry prayed he was still out.

Finally reaching his bed, Harry flopped down and yanked the covers over his head, telling himself the reason he couldn't see was because he had his covers over his head, and he would be able to see if he took the covers off. But he didn't take them off. If anything, he clutched them to him tighter, and finally fell asleep, completely buried in his sheets.

Chapter 10 : Nurse's office! No way!

Harry woke to the sound of people moving around, and alarms going off. Snuggling into his covers, Harry kept his eyes shut as he listened to the other boys getting out of bed and gathering their school materials together, content to remain abed for a while yet himself.

"Harry. Time to get up mate."

Ron's voice came from Harry's left, and he turned his head in that direction, opening his eyes to look at his friend. Or at least, that's what he meant to do.

Still shrouded in blackness, Harry opened and closed his eyes a few times, frowning as he tried desperately to blink his friend into focus, or even blurriness.

Harry's eyes snapped wide open as he remembered the previous night, and he started to hyperventilate as he realised his eyesight hadn't returned whilst he slept like he'd hoped it would.

"Harry! Calm down, what's wrong! Look, breathe, okay? Just breathe…yeah, like tha…"

Ron's voice petered out as he caught a glimpse of Harry's eyes.

Harry's eyes were always large and languid, with a vivid clarity of colour to them. Now, due to alarm they were even wider than usual, but instead of the startling green Ron always associated with Harry, his eyes were a misty white, with no pupil even visible.

"Ron…I can't see." Harry's voice was muted, a soft whisper of sound, and yet it caught Ron's attention completely.

"Holy Fuck!"

Ron's bellow was loud enough to wake the rest of Gryffindor tower no doubt, and did very little to make Harry feel better.

The other boys in the dorm crowded close to Harry's bed to see what was wrong, with a bleary-eyed Neville in the lead. As soon as they saw Harry's clouded eyes gazing at them blankly, they froze before bursting out with questions, voices rising as their alarm did.

Ron caught a grip of himself and realised he needed an expert. Someone who knew how to handle tricky situations.

Seeing how Harry was the one who needed help this time, he went to the next best person. Hermione.

Running out of the room in his mismatched pyjamas, Ron hurtled to the foot of the stairs which led to the girls' dorm and pounded on the door, uncaring of the unusual picture he made or the looks he was getting from those Gryffindors who were already in the common room.

A disgruntled Lavender opened the door, but refrained from commenting when she saw the expression Ron was wearing. Pulling away from the door, she half turned as she called up the stairs to someone.

"Someone get Hermione,…it's Ron."

Half an hour later they'd successfully got Harry dressed, although he'd refused to let them help and had ended up putting on what they handed him to wear. Hermione had been put in charge of getting his outfit together, given Ron's penchant for bright, cheerful colours, and his lack of discretion in using them.

This resulted in Harry wearing tight black jeans, and a baggy, dark blue top, which clung lovingly to his skin, but still managed to look scruffy.

They all had a free first lesson, so Hermione had argued there was no point in putting his robes on since Madame Pomfrey would no doubt just get him to take them off again. Harry had winced at that remark, and stopped arguing, deciding he didn't want the good nurse to have any reason to undress him.

That had been the easy part. Then they'd had to carefully guide Harry through the castle's hallways, and keep him from returning to his bed after all the stares and whispers that had followed him. Ron had demanded to know how Harry knew he was being stared at, and Harry had hastily shut up, not wanting to tell his friends he could literally feel the waves of lust being directed at his form.

After navigating the corridors Harry had balked at the door to the hospital wing. Neither of his friends could understand it, but Harry seemed petrified of going near the nurse.

Just as Hermione was about to lose her patience, a certain Slytherin headboy sauntered up, arm loosely wrapped up in bloody towel.

"Granger. Weasley…Harry."

Hermione raised her chin, a slight smile appearing on her face at Draco's choice of names. Ron scowled, but remained silent, determined to help his incapacitated friend as best he could.

"So, what is the golden trio up to? Breaking in to steal medical supplies?"

Ron's eyes flashed, and he stepped forward to defend them as Harry averted his face to the wall, not wanting Draco to see him like this for some reason.

"Actually, we're here because Harry needs medical attention. And yourself?"

Draco raised his arm in silent explanation, the blood stains clearly visible now Ron chose to look at it. A smirk rested on Draco's face, but the eyes he turned towards Harry were worried.

Running his eyes appraisingly over Harry's silent form, Draco missed the flash of triumph that lit Hermione's gaze when she saw the way Draco lingered on Harry's butt.

Shivering under the intensity of someone's gaze on him, Harry hunched his shoulders briefly, before recognising that this felt different than the other times he was watched. This felt warm and comforting, whereas before it always felt dirty in some way.

Brushing it off as fluke, Harry turned in the direction of the feeling and raised his eyes.

"Please don't do that."

Startled, Draco ripped his eyes from Harry's butt, and looked up. Meeting Harry's gaze, Draco was shocked and concerned when he realised what was wrong with him.

Hermione looked at Harry in surprise for a moment, raising an eyebrow as she contemplated how Harry could possibly know Draco was checking him out.

A cough interrupted them, and all turned towards Ron, who was regarding them with an indecipherable expression on his face.

"Right, well, I'd better get this seen to before I start dripping on the floor. You two might as well go, I doubt Harry will be out in time for his lessons this afternoon."

Hermione seemed to consider for a moment before she turned to go, gently squeezing Harry's arm as she went passed. Strangely enough Ron even went quietly, touching Harry's shoulder as he went.

Draco waited until he was sure they were both gone, then held the door open for Harry to go through.

"No, I'll follow you, if you don't mind."

Resigned though Harry was that he had to see the nurse, he'd be damned if he drew her attention to him more than necessary, and if he had to hide behind Draco to accomplish that, then so be it.

Draco's brow crinkled, then he led the way. No one else was in the infirmary, and the strong smell of herbal tea suggested Pomfrey was in her office. Draco left Harry by the door, and went to fetch her.

Originally annoyed at the disturbance, the nurse's frown soon disappeared when she caught sight of Harry hovering by the entrance, looking like he was going to bolt any minute.

Draco looked between the two, wondering what he was missing, but a pang from his injured arm distracted his attention. Turning to the bed the nurse indicated he should sit on whilst she tended him, Draco resolved to keep an eye out whilst Harry was in there.

The jagged slash in Draco's arm was easily fixed, and a potion took away any lingering pain.

Ignoring Madame Pomfrey's slightly insistent suggestion that he go to his lessons now, Draco stood next to Harry when she moved on to examine him.

Draco raised an eyebrow when the nurse made Harry lie on a bed so she could examine him. She hadn't asked him to do that, and his was the more physical wound. It seemed even more peculiar since the position seemed to make it harder for her to examine Harry, if the way she leaned over him was any indication.

Or the way her breasts rubbed against him as she…


Understanding at least part of Harry's hesitation to see the nurse, Draco subtly moved closer. Madame Pomfrey looked at him in irritation when he managed to situate his body between hers and Harry's.

"Mister Malfoy, I can't very well examine my patient if I can't touch him, now can I?"

Looking from her flushed, annoyed expression, to Harry's stiff body on the bed, unprotected, Draco felt a twinge in his chest. Before he quite knew what he was doing, Draco had moved closer to Harry, and lightly perched on the edge of the bed.

Harry stiffened more if possible, and his wide, misted eyes fixed on Draco's face. Draco almost jumped, then instinctively held absolutely still, as those eyes seemed to look directly into his own, searching for something.

A moment passed, and then Harry slowly relaxed his body, the tension seeping away so subtly, it was impossible to tell he'd been tense in the first place. Draco looked back to Harry's face quizzically, but Harry's eyes had moved and Draco sharply reminded himself that Harry couldn't see at the moment. That was why he was in the infirmary in the first place.

Madame Pomfrey clucked in irritation, and Draco's gaze locked onto her as she bustled around the other side of the bed. After fussing with a tendril of Harry's hair for a moment, she inexplicably moved off in the direction of her office, leaving Draco staring at her back, a feeling of apprehension rising in him.

Before she disappeared into her office, Pomfrey turned and looked at them over her shoulder. A speculative gleam crept into her eyes, and Draco's inner warning system kicked in.

The same warning system that had saved his life countless times, was now clamouring at the look in his school nurse's eyes. Trusting to his instincts, Draco stood up and pressed his hand against Harry's shoulder briefly as he passed.

Somehow knowing Harry would understand his silent warning, Draco swiftly crept over to the infirmary window. Sitting on a bench directly beneath the window, dark head studiously bent over a book, was Blaise Zabini.

Draco whistled sharply, and Blaise's head jerked up. His hazel eyes met Draco's and comprehension flashed through them swiftly.

Satisfied the message had been received, Draco drew his head back in and returned to Harry's side. A faint thud from below the window was the only give away that Blaise had obeyed his orders; dropping the book and running for help.

Just as Draco perched on Harry's bed again, the door to Madame Pomfrey's office opened, and she came out. One hand carefully cradled a goblet full of potion.

Despite being unable to determine what the potion was from his distance, Draco could still see the viscous red fumes that rose from it.

"Here. I want you to drink half of this each. Draco, maybe you should drink first, then Harry won't have to worry about leaving enough for you."

Draco? Harry? What happened to 'mister'? Draco looked at the potion, the twinkle of anticipation almost hidden in the nurse's eyes, and the only viable escape route. The door across the room, with three beds and one nurse in front of it.

Rapidly calculating his chances, Draco knew he'd have to take out Madame Pomfrey in order to have any chance at escaping with Harry as well.

Playing along for now, Draco stood up and went over to her.

As he approached a smile spread across her face, impossible to hide. She tried to turn it into a smile of encouragement, but nothing she did could hide the sinister delight in it.

Accepting the goblet she offered, Draco raised it cautiously and sniffed. Ansniffele and Rose-crops were the only distinguishable scents, and there were only two potions those ingredients could be used in; lust potions, and anti-disfigurement potions.

Seeing how Harry didn't have any visible problems, except for his lack of sight, and Draco knew exactly where all of his scars were, Draco felt it safe to assume the potion was not the latter.

As Draco hesitated, Madame Pomfrey rubbed against him, causing him to freeze.

Taking advantage of his surprise, the nurse rubbed against him harder, then pulled his head down to fasten her lips to his. Expertly forcing her tongue into his mouth, she made use of her access, thoroughly exploring him.

Keeping his head occupied with her mouth, and his hands hampered by the goblet, she held him by the neck with one hand and ran the other down the front of his body.

Belatedly realising she'd charmed the goblet so that his hands would stick to it, Draco tugged frantically, but both of his hands were stuck tight, effectively handcuffing him.

Just as Draco was getting really pissed off with this nurse, who appeared, for all intents and purposes, determined to rape one of her patients, the door to the infirmary burst open.

A blast of blue tore Madame Pomfrey away from Draco, and he slumped to his knees, feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen.

While the nurse was pinned to the wall by the blue, Draco gathered his breath and dignity, as best he could, seeing how he was on his knees, with his hands attached to a goblet.

Blaise and Snape ran in and checked to make sure Harry was all right, allowing Draco to gather his feet on his own, as they knew he'd want to. Dumbledore stood in front of Madame Pomfrey, shaking his head in disappointment.

Professor Snape checked Harry over briefly, and let out a shocked gasp when he saw Harry's eyes. Harry recoiled as though slapped, and Draco immediately went to Harry's side, glaring at Snape in reprimand.

The Professor lowered his head slightly, apologising as much as his pride would allow. Draco went to place a hand on Harry's shoulder, but remembered the goblet just in time. Moving so that his body lightly brushed against Harry's, he felt the tension begin to seep out at his touch, and idly wondered how much Harry knew had happened.

Professor Dumbledore put Madame Pomfrey to sleep, and made sure she would be unable to move even should she wake up, then came over to see what had made Snape falter.

After examining Harry's eyes, he lightly sighed and patted Harry's hand.

"Ah yes, I was expecting something like this to happen, just not so soon, still…" Dumbledore broke off, as his brain followed a trail of thought unknown to the others.

"Don't worry Harry, you're eyesight will return. At a guess I'd say it will be a day or two, but all we can do is wait I'm afraid. Mister Malfoy, Mister Zabini, I'm sure you won't mind ensuring Harry gets back to his room all right, will you?"

"The best we can do is have you come for a check up every day, I'm sorry Harry. I know this is the last thing you need, but it's the only course of action available. And don't worry, I'll make sure Madame Pomfrey doesn't bother you again."

Bestowing a nod and a benevolent smile on all present, the aged wizard then exited the room, the unconscious Pomfrey floating out after him.

Fixing his Godfather with a stare few could rival, if any, Draco arched an expectant eyebrow. What the hell did Dumbledore mean, 'he'd been expecting something like this'?

His Godfather held Draco's gaze for a moment, then turned and exited himself, snapping a half-hearted, "You heard him, get Potter to his room." behind him.

Great, his own Godfather knew what was going on, and obviously had no intention of telling him. Right, well that would definitely have to be brought up at the next joint meeting, as well as the point of Harry's safety. Honestly, the bloody school nurse almost had Harry in her clutches! To Draco that kind of slip was unacceptable, and changes would have to be made immediately to ensure the incident was not repeated.

"Draco, do you want me to remove that goblet, or are you growing attached to it?"

Blaise's dry voice broke into Draco's thoughts, and his hazel eyes glinted with laughter, as he watched his leader leaning against Harry, idly tapping the bed post with the cup.

"I can do it myself, thanks."

Feeling his cheeks warm up ever so slightly, in the slight blush Blaise called 'cute', Draco thanked Merlin Harry was blind at the moment, and as such not privy to the miracle of a Malfoy blushing.

Clearing his throat, Draco took a quick look around to ensure there was nobody watching, then let loosed a tendril of gold magic to disconnect himself and the goblet.

Letting the wooden object fall to the floor with a hollow tap, the remaining lust potion spilled out across the floor, but Draco ignored it in favour of giving Harry a hand up.

Blaise remained a step behind, cleaning up the spillage with an agile flick of his wand, whilst Draco carefully guided Harry back to Gryffindor tower, avoiding the gawking students with some well-hidden secret passages.

Chapter 11 : That was a new experience

Draco helped Harry sit on his bed after he'd sent Blaise back to his normal tasks. A tingling swept over Draco as he did so, and he recognised the feeling of a ward accepting. Looking at Harry in surprise Draco wondered how Harry had created this particular ward, it should have been impossible as it had to be placed by someone other than the recipient.

Draco let go of Harry once he was sat down, then moved himself and perched on the bed which just had to be Ron's. Although he didn't harbour any major feelings of dislike towards the red head, the thought of how he would react to knowing Draco had actually been on his bed, was simply too tempting to miss.

Once Draco had let go of Harry's arm, a bone-deep chill had set in, and Harry instinctively drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to get warm again.

Seeing Harry shivering sent an unexpected pang through Draco's chest. The second such in one day, and Draco idly wondered if he had indigestion.

Taking off his own cloak, Draco reached through the wards on Harry's bed and draped it over the shivering golden boy.

Harry jumped at the feeling of something warm enveloping him, and automatically grasped at the edges of the cloak to keep it from slipping. The chill began to lift, and he fuzzily thought to ask how Draco had managed to reach through the wards when they'd sent Ron flying across the room.

"It's quite simple really. If you go through the wards, and someone else goes through them whilst touching you, the wards will read whether or not you want that person to go through them, and react accordingly. Although, once accepted, that person can go through them whenever they want."

Oh. Harry was surprised that Draco had known what he'd wanted to know, but then he realised he must have said it out loud. Why was he so tired all of a sudden though? The warmth of Draco's cloak, mixed with the soothing scent of cinnamon was gently lulling Harry to sleep.

"Did Madame Pomfrey…hurt you, Harry?"

Draco's hesitant voice dispelled the cloud of sleep, and Harry felt Draco studying him intently to discern his reaction to the question.

"No…She almost did, once…but, no."

A soft sigh sounded, filled with…relief?

"Did she…do…anything to you, Draco? I could hear some…but, with my eyes…I…"

"Hey, calm down." There was a rustle, and then a comforting arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders.

Harry hadn't even realised it, but he could feel moisture slipping down his cheeks, and had evidently started crying. Why he should be crying confused Harry, as he didn't even feel sad. Helpless, and angry, yes. But not sad, and weren't you only meant to cry when you were sad?

"It's okay, she wouldn't have been able to do anything even if Dumbledore and rest hadn't come when they did."

Draco sounded sure of himself, but worried, like he was concerned with Harry crying.

"I heard Blaise though. You were stuck to a cup, how could you have helped yourself? And, I was just…lying on a bed! I didn't even try to do anything!"

Draco was shocked by the amount of bitterness that had seeped into Harry's voice. Was the hero of the wizarding world reprimanding himself, for being blinded somehow, and as a result leaving Draco to the attentions of Madame Pomfrey?

Gripping Harry by both shoulders, Draco forced him to turn around, feeling better when Harry looked him in the face, even if Harry couldn't actually see him.

"Harry, listen to me, there was nothing you could do! Disregarding the fact that I could have handled myself, I'm used to getting some unwanted attention. Granted not normally to that degree, but I know how to deal with situations like that."

"What you should do, rather than beat yourself up over your current lack of sight, is try to turn it into an advantage. I'm sure Dumbledore was right, and your eyesight will return, but whilst it is gone, why not train yourself to operate without sight?"

Harry stopped crying, listening to Draco's reasoning, and interested to know if he could train himself in such a manner.

"I've heard that blind people often find their other senses heighten, and you can turn that to your advantage. Imagine, when you get your eyesight back, you'll probably be able to smell things out, and only use your eyes to verify what your nose has told you!"

Harry laughed at the picture Draco painted, the idea of him hunting around with his nose to the ground reminded him of snuffles, and Harry was glad of the distraction.

"Harry? Why do you have this ward around your bed? You didn't do it yourself, did you?"

Draco held his breath for the answer. Harry couldn't have done it himself, so either he told Draco who had done it, or he lied. Despite feeling bad for luring Harry into a trick, Draco knew it was important to determine if Harry trusted him or not, and this would go a long way to answering that question.

"No, I didn't put it up. Snape did, on Dumbledore's orders. I'm not entirely sure why he did it, but Snape said something about keeping people out, extra privacy or something."

Well, reasonably honest at any rate. It sounded like something Dumbledore would do, and he would send Snape to carry out the order, but Harry was being just a bit too vague.

Anybody else would believe they'd been told the truth, but Draco could worm out the best liars, and something about the speech sounded just a bit off. Meaning Harry probably knew more than he was letting on about Dumbledore's motivations. Not surprising seeing how Dumbledore treated Harry like an equal, and the likelihood of him sugar coating anything for Harry was very slim.

A soft hoot interrupted the moment, saving Draco from saying anything, and both heads turned to the window, which was propped open slightly.

Draco rose from his seat, and opened the window the rest of the way. The owl, a magnificent school, tawny owl, swept in and proffered its leg to Draco.

Accepting the message from the bird, Draco ignored it as it exited through the window, preferring to read the note instead.

Bring Harry to my office. I have something I need to talk to him about.


Short, to the point, and not very sweet. Despite the Headmaster's penchant for muggle sweets, it was exactly his style. And damn him for leaving Draco out of the loop on this.

Lightly shaking an unusually sleepy-looking Harry, Draco guided him out of the Gryffindor's tower and to the Headmaster's office, alternately cursing Dumbledore and thanking Merlin that the students were in lessons.

The statue in front of Dumbledore's office moved as soon as they reached, and Draco took advantage of the fact that they didn't need to bother with a password, ushering Harry onto the steps as fast as he could.

Once in the office, Harry moved to the seats with an ease which astonished Draco, until he reminded himself the amount of times Harry had no doubt been in there.

"Draco, you may wait outside, if you please."

How Dumbledore managed to sound so polite, and yet stubborn, Draco would never know. He'd been told many times that he was very good at leading people, yet Draco doubted he would ever be as good at subtly ordering people as Dumbledore was.

"Now, Harry. I have examined Madame Pomfrey extensively, in an attempt to find out the cause of her reaction to you."

"It is my conclusion that when you fed off her, you inadvertently created a craving in her. The first feeding is always memorable, no doubt, and it was such an extensive feeding as well. From what I have gathered, it is very…pleasurable, to be fed on in such a manner, and it was so…intense, and uncontrolled, that Madame Pomfrey has regrettably become addicted."

"What! That's impossible!"

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly, not bothering to hide it from the sputtering teen, as the boy was quite unable to see it at the moment.

"I've heard of addictions, and you can't get addicted from it just happening once! It takes a while…a gradual dependance…no…"

"Yes. This isn't the same kind of addiction as humans get, I'm afraid. There have been cases of something very similar, between a full-blooded veela, and a wizard, when the veela deliberately created such a reaction in the wizard, using their innate charm."

"I've sent Madame Pomfrey to St Mungo's. They are perfectly capable of treating such a case, so don't worry. She will be gone a while, and the teachers will fill in for her as each have quite sufficient medical training. There is a side effect to this type of addiction though, and she won't remember anything from the time the addiction began, to when it ended. I think it would probably be wise to leave the blanks unfilled."

"You have no need to worry about any further molestation from her, Harry. I have examined her thoroughly, and aside from what was brought on by the addiction, she has no desire for you or any of the other students. If she did have, I would have been unable to keep her on as school nurse."

"I understand that you will most likely distrust her when she returns, but we'll overcome any problems as they arise. I believe that is covering everything for the time being."

"Why don't you go down and allow Mister Malfoy to escort you back to your room. You look tired, and I can practically feel his anxiety and impatience from here."

Harry stood up from the chair, and moved over to the door, too numb to even nod at Dumbledore.

His feeding off of someone had produced that effect? How was he meant to feed off of anyone again? No doubt it probably wouldn't happen if he fed off them like Dumbledore had suggested, whilst they slept, but what if something went wrong?

Harry vaguely heard Draco asking him something when he got off the stairs, but Harry continued walking, deaf as well as blind.

Chapter 12 : Sometimes sight's not all you need - part one

Harry clutched his covers about him, the dratted shivering returning full force now Draco had left. Curling on to his side, Harry ruminated over everything he'd gone through lately.

All of Harry's life everything was straightforward…kind of. To begin with he'd been dumped with his aunt and uncle, when his parents had died in a car accident. After that everything that went wrong at the Dursley's had been his fault, and Harry had adapted to that viewpoint, even though he knew it was wrong.

Then came the letter from Hogwarts, turning Harry's life on its head, and introducing possibilities he'd never even imagined before.

Once in the wizarding world he'd been told the truth of his parents death, and understood it to be Voldemort's fault…not his.

In the wizarding world Harry was considered a saviour, and as such had been granted a lot of slack, in everything he did and every rule he broke, no matter how small it was.

Harry had not grown used to that, too many years with the Dursleys he guessed. Whatever it was, be it Harry's own nature, or his life with his relatives, Harry had never been comfortable with the praise showered on him, or the allowances made for his misdemeanours.

Then Harry had found out just how Voldemort had managed to kill his parents, and for a moment in time, it had been Sirius, Harry's Godfather's fault. Then it had all shifted again, giving Harry barely any time to adjust, and suddenly it was someone else's fault. Peter Pettigrew.

Harry had settled into living his life, growing up and acquiring crushes that were doomed from the beginning, with Voldemort occasionally trying to rear his ugly head.

Then Cedric had been killed in front of Harry's eyes. A teacher was revealed to be a fake, and was actually a Death Eater in disguise. Harry's life again turned around, so fast he barely even felt the shock at how easy it was for everyone to be tricked, even Dumbledore.

Harry withdrew slightly, unnoticeably, watching everyone, not trusting anyone. If someone said, 'hi,' Harry wondered why they'd done it. If someone looked more stressed than normal, or appeared too interested in him and his friends, Harry worried they were up to something.

Then, when Harry was getting over what he deemed his "paranoia", a whole other adventure had popped up, leading to the fiasco at the Ministry, and Sirius' death. Swiftly followed by Dumbledore revealing some "big secret", the prophecy which said only one out of Harry and Voldemort could live, and one would kill the other.

When he'd heard that, Harry's world had attempted to turn upside down again, and for a moment it succeeded. Before Harry realised that was what he'd known all along. Ever since he'd been a part of the resistance against Voldemort, whether consciously or not, Harry had realised what it would come down to.

And, in the end, Harry was fed up with having to re-acclimate himself to the changes that always seemed to occur in his world.

But this stuff, about his natural heritage. It had nothing to do with what was going on in the world around him. It was completely inside of himself.

And that, Harry believed, was the main reason he was having such difficulty accepting it.

The world, in its entire glory; Voldemort, Death Eaters, enemies, school work, Dursleys, conspiracy's, secrets, prophecies, rivalries…all of those Harry could deal with. He'd been doing so successfully his entire life, and he had no doubt he'd manage as an adult as well. But this…physical changes, odd "food" cravings, addictions, blindness…it was all just him. Just Harry. And that was something he couldn't control, couldn't fight, couldn't understand, at least…not yet anyway.

Letting go of his thoughts, Harry relaxed the tension in his body, and sank down into the bliss of unconsciousness.

Hours passed, and time slowly crept towards evening.

Screams of laughter rose up the stairs, from the common room, but Harry didn't stir.

In a dormitory across the school, and several levels below, another boy sat on his bed, scrolls of diagrams scattered around him. Blond head lowered in concentration, grey eyes scanned sheet after sheet, searching…

The boy plucked one diagram out from the rest, a clear depiction of the Great Hall, done in a style similar to that of muggle building plans. Raising it to his face, the boy stared at it in concentration, a frown creasing his normally serene brow.

A moment passed, and still the blond stared at the piece of parchment. After what seemed an age, a spark of gold appeared in the middle of the parchment.

Gaze not wavering in the slightest, the boy watched impassively as the spark grew, gradually encompassing the entire scroll. The parchment glowed brightly for a second, before vanishing.

The document before the boy was the same as it had been before, still depicting the Great Hall. But with some minor differences, some additions.

Up, by the ceiling in the Great Hall, were what appeared to be pipes. Apart from the fact they hadn't been there before, they were larger than normal, big enough to contain a person, if they crouched.

Tracing the pipes across the page, grey eyes narrowed as they ran off the edge, no doubt continuing to run along the part of the ceiling which wasn't covered on that scroll.

Gently dropping the sheet, grey eyes stared at it sightlessly for a moment, before a warm, victorious, light appeared in them.


Chapter 13 : Sometimes sight's not all you need - part two

As Harry tossed and turned under his dark-tinted sheets, he dreamed.

Nothing unusual in that, except this wasn't one of those lovely dreams he had, where he was flying high above the ground, his parents beside him.

Then again, this wasn't one of those nasty dreams, a.k.a.: nightmares, where Voldemort tortured and killed people who were for the most part innocent of any crime, and sometimes people who were guilty of crimes.

This wasn't even the type of dream Ron and the other boys liked to brag about the next day. Or, at least, Harry didn't think it was. It definitely wasn't something he normally dreamt though.

Harry dreamed of hands. Reaching, grasping, hungry hands. Shadows leapt around him, and everywhere he turned there were those damnable hands. Fingers curling, attempting to hook on Harry's body. Flashes of red wove around groups of these hands, whilst others were followed by hazy blues and greens. Yet, at the same time, Harry had the distinct impression that there were no colours. Just the endless black.

The hands were getting closer, fingers grasping more frenziedly than before, and Harry could almost hear a strange rushing sound as he twisted in his covers, sweat coating his brow.

Just as Harry was sure the dream was reaching some kind of climax, another colour appeared from the twisting shadows surrounding Harry. A colour unlike the others, so bright it appeared white.

The hands that accompanied this colour were different than the others. They didn't grasp, and they didn't hurry. They wound through the throngs of other hands, moving at their own pace, pushing gently but powerfully when other hands blocked the way.

The other hands melted away as Harry focused on the new pair, and soon they were all he could see, as even the shadows disappeared.

Just as the hands were about to reach him, Harry woke up.

Snapping open his eyes, Harry propped himself up on his elbows, absently wiping a hand across his face and removing most of the sweat coating his skin. Dark eyelashes flickered, but Harry sank back down with a sigh as he remembered he couldn't see.

Wondering what woke him up, Harry listened intently for a moment. There was no noise other than the sound of students in the common room, talking and laughing as they did the homework set for the next day.

Exhaustion crept over Harry soon enough, and he tugged the covers back around him when he felt the chill emanating from his chest once more.

Dark shadows crept across the room, touching everywhere except for Harry's dark corner. Drapes fluttered in the still air, and something creaked overhead.

The night seemed to hold its breath for a moment, then resumed its usual play of sounds.

Scuffling noises could be heard now, the strange dry whispering seeming to move all around the room. Harry sank towards oblivion, black hair spread across his pillow, eyelashes fluttering slightly.

A quiet click was muffled, then a hole opened in the right hand wall. From the hole, which was positioned near the ceiling, came a dark figure, dressed in a long, hooded, cloak.

Another quiet click was muffled, and the hole in the wall disappeared as though it had never been, leaving no sign of its existence, except for the figure.

Picking up the edges of the garment, the person moved over to Harry's bed on quiet feet, only a slight tap giving away their movements. Upon reaching the boy's bed, the figure shed the cloak immediately, then moved onto their robes.

Carelessly tossing their clothes in all directions, the figure never removed their eyes from Harry's sleep-troubled face.

Leaving their trousers on, the person touched their wand to their throat lightly. After muttering a quick, "Replisonar" the wand was then placed safely out of harms way.


The voice was that of Draco Malfoy, but the boy's features when the drapes parted, were definitely not. The relatively unknown Ravenclaw, called Ben Sriften, had dark brown hair fashioned in an expensive haircut, and brown eyes. He looked fairly nondescript, but obviously took great pride in his appearance, if the craftsmanship of his clothes was anything to go by.

Harry turned slightly, as the voice registered in his sleep-fogged mind.

A grin appeared on Ben's face as he saw his plan working. A grin formed, part of triumph, part anticipation, and part malicious intent.

"…Harry, take my hand, I need to check your pulse. You can go back to sleep afterwards…just do this, one, small, thing…"

Harry rolled over completely, facing in Ben's direction now. He sleepily held his hand in the direction the voice had come from, eyes opening briefly, but still seeing nothing.

Ben reached eagerly for the hand, only just remembering to take it gently. Soon enough he'd be taking everything, so waiting a moment more wouldn't hurt any.

Feverishly warm skin touched Harry's hand, and he had a flashback to his dream, focusing in on one of the hands, one of the ones with green accompanying it.

Instantly jerking back, the cold hiding under Harry's skin overflowed, spilling out into the dorm room. Not Draco.

Harry pulled back from the stranger in his room, backing away from the edges of his bed and curling into a ball against the wall his bed backed up against.

"Harry? What is it, what's wrong?" Draco's voice sounded worried, but underneath Harry heard an undercurrent of alarm, verging on panic. Not Draco.

Harry almost questioned how he was so sure of that fact, but the eddies of cold billowing out from him made him pause. He wasn't human, some things probably just went with the territory.

The next half an hour passed in a blur. The Not Draco person kept talking to Harry, asking him what was wrong, trying to get Harry to give him his hand so he could check Harry's pulse and then go. Harry ignored whatever came from that familiar, yet not-right, voice, and instead focused on the direction the sound was coming from.

To begin with the voice had been still, and used distance in an attempt to get Harry's guard to go down. That had been followed by pacing close by, but now the voice was still again, and further away than before. Near the door, Harry knew, though how he knew was beyond him again.

After what seemed an age, Harry heard the sound of voices coming up the stairs to the dorm. The imposter couldn't hear them yet, but when he did, he'd bolt, and then Harry would know he'd been right.

Ben was frustrated out of his mind. He'd tried everything, from talking soothingly, to wheedling, to cursing. Nothing seemed to get to the object of his desire. It was almost like Harry was just blocking it all out.

Why Harry had reacted the way he had, Ben had no idea. One minute his plan was going along perfectly, then Harry had clammed up like a shell the next. Even going so far as to curl up against the wall.

Maybe Ben had overestimated the friendship Harry and Draco now shared, but it was getting pretty obvious Ben wasn't going to get through to Harry tonight.

Voices reached his ears, and Ben swiftly moved over to Harry again.

Considering how quietly he'd walked, Ben was rather surprised that Harry didn't jump when his voice came from so near.

"…I give up! I guess I'll just have to tell Madame Pomfrey that you refused to let me take your pulse, and you can deal with her wrath!"

Making his way over to the secret door in the dorm wall, Ben pressed on the wall in several places, listening for the discreet click which meant it was opening.

Once Ben had hoisted himself up, into the opening, he pressed from the other side, and the door slid shut, just as Harry's dorm mates entered the room.

Thanking Merlin for whoever was clever enough to have built these tunnels, all the way around the school, Ben sorted through his hastily gathered clothes, and pulled the long robe over his head. It covered everything, and he didn't have time to put everything back on properly. Quietly crawling along the pipe tunnel, Ben stuffed the rest of his clothes into his various pockets. He was too intent on getting back to his dorm, to notice he was one garment missing.

In Harry's dorm, Ron and the others were stopped just inside the door, by the blast of cold air that hit them. Startled, after the warmth of the common room, to come to bed in a freezer, they stood there stunned for a second.

Neville's eyes made a slow circuit of the room, and then widened when they landed on Harry's bed.

The beautiful boy was curled against the wall, deep shivers racking his slender form. His black and green covers were tousled, and he looked like he'd been having a fight with someone on it.

Wearing only a pair of black boxers, the young man had wrapped his arms about himself, and his pale skin seemed to glow in the dark.

Neville blinked, convinced his eyes were playing a trick on him, and when he looked again, Harry had opened his eyes.

Those once green orbs were pointed in their direction, a golden light shining from the white mist which had replaced them.

Each boy felt that look like a blow, but shook it off in favour of getting some sleep. Putting away their school stuff, Ron was about to retrieve his pyjamas, when he saw something sticking out from under his bed.

Picking it up, Ron was surprised to see it was a dark purple tie, the initials B.S. neatly embroidered at the bottom in gold thread.

Looking from Harry to the tie, and back again, Ron frowned in confusion.

"Harry, do you know whose tie this is?"

Harry just shivered harder, and the temperature in the room took another dip. Water on the windowsill from when it had rained earlier, took on a white tint, as it froze solid.

Tucking the tie away for safe keeping, Ron followed the others to the bathrooms, basking in what was normally quite a chilly walk. Once they'd all got back, and tucked up in bed, Dean flicked his wand and turned off the light.

Curled up in shivering heaps, the boys burrowed under their covers, thinking Harry had gone to sleep in his position. He hadn't.

Long after the others all dropped off to sleep, Harry lay wide awake, curled up against the stone, shivering from the cold emanating from his form.

Chapter 14 : Sometimes sight's not all you need - part three

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, even though next to no one was around to witness the colourful merging of oranges and pink, which spread across the sky.

Nothing moved in Harry's dorm room, not even the rise and fall of chests taking in oxygen could break the utter stillness the room held.

All of the boys were still asleep, huddled deep under their covers, except for one.

Harry had remained awake all night long, misty eyes fixed at a random point throughout the night. His hair remained glossy, despite the sweat which had covered his body when he'd woken from the strange dream he'd had. The only thing visible other than his head, was a tangle of arms and legs, as Harry hunched in on himself defensively.

That strange chill still permeated the air, and if one approached the stone-like boy on his bed, they would have noticed immediately how much colder it was closer to him.

Finally, in a dreamlike movement, Harry turned his head towards the window. A cold breeze rippled through the room, spreading out towards the windows.

Each of the unconscious boys shivered in their sleep, and burrowed even deeper under their covers, as the silent wind moved over them.

Harry's unseeing eyes lighted upon the drapes, still drawn across the window. The frigid air pushed the drapes aside, allowing the warm morning sun to spill into the room.

Outside, the icicles that had formed on the window ledge, melted as the sun heated what had so quickly chilled, and a slight smile appeared on Harry's face.

Remaining in his bed, which the sunlight still couldn't penetrate, the boy-who-lived finally slipped under his covers, damping out the chill that was still emanating from him, as the sun thawed out the room in time for the other boy's to awaken.

Hours passed in silence, as Harry's bed grew colder and colder, whilst the rest of the dorm room slowly heated to normal, lukewarm, temperature.

"Ugnh," One of the boys groaned, as he woke, arms raising automatically, as Dean squinted in the light pouring into the room.

He cautiously peeled his eyes back open after a moment, then clambered out of bed and went to get a shower. Always the early riser, Dean enjoyed getting the hot water to himself, for as long a possible.

As the brown haired boy went out the door, wash stuff under one arm towel hung on the other, he never even thought to notice the change in temperature.

Harry had History of Magic first period, and he was supposed to wait for Draco, with whom he was partnered in the class, to come and guide him down to breakfast.

For reasons Harry couldn't comprehend, Dumbledore seemed rather insistent that Harry spent as much time as possible with Draco. When Harry had questioned him on his reasoning, he'd infuriatingly replied, "He is more able to help you than any other."

After the night he had just spent, Harry wasn't so sure Draco was the best person to help him. Even though Harry knew it hadn't been Draco who tried something last night, the person had tried to impersonate him. To Harry this could mean one of two things; the person sought to get to Harry through Draco for whatever reason, or the person knew Draco was the one who was meant to be helping Harry about and such.

Word had spread quickly around the school, that Harry had gone blind, and Harry was unsurprised that all it took were a couple of glimpses of him being helped to and from the hospital wing.

Now, even with the Headmaster's advice, Harry felt it would probably be safer, for both Draco and himself, if they were seen around each other either less than they had before Harry's blindness, or at the very least, the same amount. If Harry was seen to be relying on Draco, Merlin only knows how that could effect the blond, let alone how vulnerable it could make Harry to attacks. Last night proved that quite admirably.

Decision made, Harry felt his way to the bathrooms and locked himself in one of the private cubicles. Although their were communal showers in the bathroom, Harry was rather wary about showering in front of other boys after last night, especially since he couldn't see anyone enter and the running water would effectively cripple his hearing.

Washing as quickly as possible, Harry just managed to make out the sound of Dean exiting the bathroom, when he leaned back, out of the spray.

Grateful his friend had gone, Harry was still pleased he'd had the presence of mind to charm his towel, clothes and school bag to remain dry, and brought them into the cubicle with him. He only hoped the water didn't turn him around so he couldn't find them when he finished up.

After what seemed an age to Harry, but realistically was only about ten minutes, Harry reached up to shut off the water, shaking his head to rid it of as much water as possible.

Drying quickly, Harry tugged on the clothes he had brought with him, able to tell there was a t-shirt and jeans, but having no clue what he was wearing beyond that. He'd remembered his shoes, but clean underwear had managed to slip past him.

Ignoring the unfamiliar sensation of denim rubbing against his bare skin, Harry grabbed his bag, and carefully left the bathroom.

Forgoing breakfast as too nerve-wracking, not to mention embarrassing, as he couldn't see anything, but just knew everyone would stare at him, Harry made his way to Professor Binn's classroom.

The ghostly Professor was surprised to see Harry, and, surprisingly enough, commiserated with Harry when he explained his eyesight problem to him.

Assuring Harry that he would make sure notes from the class were given to him later, Professor Binns told Harry to just 'listen', and try to follow the lesson as best he could. Gratefully thanking him, Harry had shakily manoeuvred his way around the classroom, trying to get to his desk from memory alone.

Surprisingly it was quite hard, and that was no doubt a result of Harry always being bored to tears in this lesson, and halfway asleep all the time.

After the seventh desk he walked into, Harry realised just how much he relied on his sight normally, and swore he would pay more attention in this class in the future, no matter how tired he might be, or how droning the Professor's voice might sound.

Other students began to pour in just before the lesson started, and the Professor immediately got them to set up parchment and scrolls for note taking, before launching into another rambling speech on one historic event or another.

It was about twenty minutes into the lesson when Draco arrived.

A chill travelled down Harry's spine, reminding him of the muggle saying about someone walking over your grave. Feeling the blond's eyes on him, in a way the rest of the students' hadn't gotten close to, Harry could literally feel the boy's aggravation from his seat across the classroom.

Not even bothering to apologise to the Professor for being late, not that the poor dead man noticed, given that he was too deep into reciting some long ago battle or whatnot, Draco moved into the classroom like a snake.

Gliding more than walking, Harry could hear the focus and grace with which the Slytherin moved, in every gentle brush of cloth against stone, and the light tap of his shoes as he stepped.

Upon reaching where Harry was sat, the boy settled into his chair next to Harry, and dug out his equipment.

Once he was set up, Draco turned and looked at the dark haired boy next to him. His hair was still wet from the shower, and was curling against his collar.

A tight black t-shirt clung to him like a smooth second skin, making his pale skin stand out in stark contrast. Tight black jeans clung scandalously close to his lower half, and his scuffed black boots gave him the overall appearance of a dangerous biker. All he needed was a hoop through one ear.

The desk in front of the boy was empty, which wasn't surprising, seeing how he couldn't exactly take notes.

Draco had been ordered by Dumbledore to ensure Harry's safety. Ordered. Something which even Dumbledore was generally wise enough not to try. Draco had allowed the slip to pass unnoticed this once, and had told the others the old coot had requested his help, and he had graciously given it.

The last thing anyone could afford right now was to quarrel amongst themselves, and Draco would be damned if he would allow pettiness to get in the way of his work.

He'd assumed it would be easy for him to look after Ha…Potter. Sure, Dumbledore wasn't telling him everything about the problem, but it looked like he wasn't even telling Harry that. The mad old coot was incredibly fond of keeping minor, very important, details to himself, and revealing them at the latest possible second.

All Draco had thought he'd have to do was escort the boy to and from his lessons, take him to every meal, and possibly aid his studying as much as possible, due to his blindness. Draco had even been looking forward to a chance to study this fine specim… cough …intriguing adversary.

However, Draco had apparently underestimated the boy, yet again.

Originally, he'd been surprised and a bit pleased, by the ease with which Harry had appeared to adapt to his company, given how they'd been enemies for years.

The first day of Draco looking 'after' Hogwarts 'golden boy', Draco had gone to collect him from the Gryffindor tower. Only to find out the 'golden boy' had vanished, and the Weasel had no idea where he'd gone.

After searching all over the castle, even going so far as to check the Gryffindor girl's bathroom, in case Harry had wandered into them by accident, and because the red haired Weasel had flat out refused, Draco had given up.

Turning to the very last place he'd expected to find Harry, Draco had turned up for class, only to find the damn Gryffindor already in his seat. Showered, clothed, and looking far too appealing for his own darn good.

After contemplating whether or not to rip Harry a new butthole, Draco decided Harry's present one was actually quite nice-looking from his viewpoint, and settled in to the lesson, planning to talk to Harry at the end.

Chapter 15 : Sometimes sight's not all you need - part four

The quiet murmur of voices from within the classroom was the only sign it was still inhabited. Two voices. Harry and Draco, apparently having a heart-to-heart. Either that, or Draco was chewing Harry out for wandering off this morning.

Pondering that strange thought, Ron decided to leave the two alone. That wasn't something he'd normally do, considering he intensely disliked the ferret, and was fiercely protective of Harry.

But Draco hadn't exactly been acting like his normal slimy self lately either, so maybe there was something in the water. Only problem with this conclusion was that Ron avoided water at all costs, only drinking the boring fluids when his mother nagged him. Which was generally during the summer, when he visited home.

Mind you, the expression on Malfoy's face when he thought he'd lost Harry this morning…

It was almost enough to make Ron feel like comforting the bloke.

Shaking off that thought, and for some reason feeling ridiculously pleased that thoughts which included Draco still had the power to disturb him, Ron returned to the reason why he was willing to leave Harry, helpless and alone, with Draco Malfoy. Another Slytherin.

Spotting a particular head of sleek blonde hair, turning the corner towards the library, Ron grabbed his bag and tore after it.

Slowing down to a light jog, Ron stopped completely just before he reached his target's presumed destination. Surreptitiously plastering himself against the stone wall, he gingerly peeked around the corner.

Walking into the library casually, his quarry didn't appear to have spotted him. Good. That should make things go a lot easier.

Waiting until the coast was clear, Ron counted to ten, then snuck up to the library door, and eased his way inside.

The dim lanterns on every desk did little to discard the gloomy shroud covering the room. The highly placed windows had thick black curtains blocking out the daylight, and the rows of bookcases held the darkest shadows in the room.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Ron darted towards those aisles of books, concealing himself in the deepest shadows whilst he waited for his eyes to adjust to the difference in light.

Finding one of the many tables and chairs concealed among the shelves, he quickly removed a few choice books from his bag and spread them across the desk, creating the impression he had been there for a while.

Leaving his table, bag and books, Ron took off through the aisles, scanning the books as he went. Wand contained in his robes pocket, and crumpled book list in his right hand, he searched for the quarry which had brought him there.

"Oof!" "Ow!"

The breath momentarily knocked out of him, Ron's blue eyes squinted at the person who had cried out in pain. It had been a very feminine-sounding voice.

Sure enough, there, rubbing her elbow, was his blonde haired prey.

Gingerly straightening up, Ron checked her over for damage, and decided she'd probably hit him with her elbow, which was why she was holding it. Nothing too serious hopefully, but still, not the best of starts either way.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you. Are you okay? Do you need to go see the nurse?"

Surprised blue eyes jumped to his face. Taking in who he was.

Shaking her glossy blonde hair over one shoulder, she shrugged with the other one, a slight smile curving her lips, even as she made to back off, eyes cautious.

"I'm fine, it's just a bump. I hope I didn't hurt you or anything, but I should probably get back to my homework. Sorry, again."

Tilting his head as though a thought had just occurred to him, Ron shifted forward slightly, leaning against the nearest bookcase to put her more at ease.

"You're Pansy, right? I've seen you hanging out with Malfoy a few times."

"Yeah, hi, and you're a Weasley, obviously. Hair's a dead give-away, as well as your eyes."

"Thanks for the pointers, I'll have to remember that in the future. If I don't want to be recognised as a Weasley, I should transfigure my hair and my eyes a different colour." She laughed slightly, eyes crinkling depreciatingly, as she begun to turn around and walk away.

Casual, Ron cautioned himself. It had to appear casual, but just enough to hook her interest and attention.

"You'd have to put a bag over your head by the way."

She paused, then looked over her shoulder, before turning to face him again. Taking on a slightly confused and defensive stance; hips cocked, head tilted, brows drawn, and hands loosely balanced on hips, she was definitely hooked. Now to reel her in.

"Excuse me?" Perfect blend of curiosity, derision, bewilderment, and the finishing touch - a dab of hurt. No doubt about it, she was a master at this game. Ron would have to remember to compliment her later, when this was all over. For now though, he'd beat her at her own game.

"You're so pretty, the only way to make you blend in would be to cover everything. Unlike me, where a few minor alterations are all that matter."

A slight intake of breath, and her lips twitched slightly. Eyelashes lowered demurely, but when they lifted again the twinkling in her eyes gave her away, despite her perfectly composed face. Yes! A direct hit, and she was his.

"So, what are you doing in here, Weasley? I didn't think you'd even heard of the library, and all rumours point to you having a particularly violent allergy to homework,"

"Ron." He dared to interrupt her, delighting in her evident confusion. Verbal games were better than chess, and good ones were all the rarer.

"Excuse me?"

Seeing she was slightly annoyed that he'd managed to outmanoeuvre her once again, Ron decided to quit messing around and get to work.

"My name is Ron. I have no intention of calling you by your surname, so you might as well extend me the same courtesy. Anyway, I do happen to have heard of the library before."

Putting on a slightly bitter face, which wasn't far from the truth, Ron continued.

"Despite popular belief, I do have a brain, and I even know how to use it. Just because I don't talk academics all the time doesn't mean I couldn't if I wanted to. So, what are you up to then? Homework as well?"

"Yeah. It's not going so well though, I'm stuck on a dumb transfiguring question…Do you know the criticism of the fourth series of wand movements used to transfigure a stone into a statue? I've never been able to wrap my head around all this…dissecting of wand movements…seems pointless."

"Umm…I'm pretty sure that the common criticism is that it is so similar to the one which transfigures stone into water, meaning that if you get the slightest twitch wrong, you end up with watery clay."

"Thank you, that's solved my problem then. What about you, is their anything I can do to pay you back, anything you're having trouble with?"

Looking at her eager face, Ron noted the fact that she had been honest in her reason for being there, and felt a strange tug at his own deception. Still, he'd make it up to her in the long run.

"Well, Hermione was ragging on me about my reading habits again yesterday. She recommended a bunch of books for me to read, in the hopes of 'stimulating my mind, as opposed to killing what little remains'. One of the many reasons behind the conversations we have, but I thought I'd give it a shot, see if they're any good. If you could help me find them, that would be great. Then I can take them to my dorm before class starts."

"Sure, I'll take half the list, and see what I can do. I probably know the library better than you do anyway."

Ripping the crumpled paper in his hand, carefully in half, Ron handed it over to Pansy with a 'shy' smile. Watching until she'd walked off in the opposite direction, black school robes clinging to her curves, Ron shook his head in admiration. Whew. One hot woman.

Chapter 16: sometimes sight's not all you need - part five

"Anything, Neville?"

A sigh, followed by the frustrated movement of a hand through hair, was the only reply he got. Still, it was more than he'd got the hour before.

Trying to put a philosophical perspective on it all, Blaise ran through all of the reasons behind what they were doing, and analysed his own motives and feelings. Nothing had changed, and yet his frustration had already given several people a small electric shock, despite the control he had on his powers.

The reason for that frustration was currently curled up on the floor next to him, books strewn in front of him, as he attempted to find the data Draco had requested.

Giving up on philosophy as a lost cause and not helping one bit, Blaise rested his own book against his legs, and peered over the top at his companion, gazing at the angel in front of him.

Hair which had grown over the summer was now falling in Neville's eyes, and his lean form was utterly relaxed, one leg kicking in the air lightly.

Releasing yet another sigh, this one more explosive than the first, the boy pulled an annoyed face, before marking his place in the book and putting it to the side.

Hastily returning his eyes to the book in front of him, Blaise desperately fought the blush that was threatening his cheeks. He'd been caught, he just knew it. I mean, sure, Neville hadn't even seen him, but what did that prove, huh? He was a wizard, not to mention in the circle of light, he had ways of knowing.

"Blaise, stop it!" Neville's angry voice broke through the mental babble in Blaise's head, and he hesitantly raised his hazel eyes.

"I know you like me, ok? I've known from the beginning. And, I didn't say anything, because I was hoping you would do something about it. But nooo…that would be too simple. Instead, you stay schtum, only talking to me about orders, missions, and occasionally, only if I'm lucky mind, you throw in some random small talk."

"We've never had a serious conversation about our personal lives! You've never even tried to hint that you like me, let alone actually asked me out! Well, I'm fed up of waiting! This…tension, is just…getting to me."

"So, how about it? Do you want to go out with me, Blaise?"

The moments ticked by, and Blaise just stared at the boy he was in love with, stumped. Did he want to go out with Neville? Hell, yes! If he'd known how Neville felt, he wouldn't have hesitated to approach him, but how did Neville know exactly? If Blaise never even hinted?

"Umm, how did you know I…"

"One of my talents, my extra special talents that is, is to know when I am being followed, or being watched…I can literally feel the eyes on me. I knew, every time you were watching me."

"To begin with, I didn't know why you were watching me, but I managed to piece it together. So? What's your answer?"

Neville had somehow managed to move closer to Blaise without him noticing, as he talked, and was now in front of him, leaning forwards. Placing his hands on either side of Blaise, Neville leaned even further, seeing his answer in the boy's beautiful eyes, but wanting it vocalised to make it official.


Blaise managed to squeak, before Neville pounced, a devilish smile appearing on his face.

Pushing Blaise backwards, Neville went down with him, until they were both lying on the dorm floor, surrounded by the books they were meant to be searching. Then again, they'd just got together, surely that is cause to celebrate.

Reaching up, Blaise grabbed Neville before he could change his mind, and brought their lips crashing together. Chaste kisses, soon gave way as they explored each other's mouths with their tongues, getting progressively more intimate, until they were rolling around on the floor, too caught up to hear the knock at the door.

"Ah, I see you two have finally got your heads together, no pun intended, or necessary, it seems. And please don't do that on the books."

Tearing their mouths apart, the two boys lay on the floor in complete disarray, panting as they tried to get their breath back, and staring in horror up at Hermione, who stood over them wearing an amused expression.

"Congratulations you two, it took long enough. Now we just have to get Draco fixed up - I'm sure Ron's already working on his own chosen partner - and then the obvious couples will be complete. Okay, you two can snog later, but you still need to finish this research as quickly as possible, you know how much we need any information we can find to tell us about Harry's condition. I'd better stay, and be chaperone, otherwise you probably won't get anything done."

Nodding seemed to be the smart thing to do, so the two boys did just that, reluctantly disentangling themselves and picking up their books again.

Sometimes business isn't all that important, but now wasn't one of those times.

Chapter 17 : Sometimes sight's not all you need - part six

After apologising to Draco for scaring him in the morning, yesterday had gone surprisingly well, barring one minor incident.

Draco had been leading Harry down the corridor, steering him around the corners and the gaping students, as they headed for potions. They had been turning the last corner when Harry had felt it.

Brushing gently against his mind came the urge to look back the way they had just come. Not understanding why, Harry nevertheless did stop and turn around. Opening the eyes he'd been keeping shut since he'd lost his sight, Harry peered back the way they had just come.

A moment passed, and all Harry could see was black.

By now Draco had stopped and was looking at Harry in concern. He was just about to ask Harry what was wrong when Harry's expression changed. Gone was the blank look, and a slightly startled, slightly scared expression of wonder replaced it.

Strands of colour seemed to slowly seep into Harry's land of blackness, faint at first, but growing brighter. All different shades, some so similar it was hard to tell them apart. As the colours grew brighter, they began to resolve into different shapes.

Harry had begun to hope that this was a sign his vision was returning, when one colour in particular suddenly stood out from the rest.


A light, acid, green, off to the side of the corridor, almost seeming to be leaning against something. The wall. Someone was leaning against the wall back the way they'd come. The same someone who had crept into his dorm, and had meant him the same harm as Madame Pomfrey had.

As soon as the thought hit him, Harry knew it was true, and he could also feel the cold that had begun leaking out of him once more.

People around Harry shivered, but kept moving, not knowing where the sudden chill was coming from. All except for one.

Draco Malfoy had moved up next to Harry when he had seen the expression his charge was wearing. Adept at reading faces, this one was an open book to him, and Draco knew Harry was seeing something. Then the expression had gone from wonder to fear to disgust, and the chill had begun.

Obviously, whatever it was Harry was seeing, he didn't like it one bit. Looking in the same direction as Harry, Draco made a note of everyone in sight, determined to find out if they were involved in any way with what was happening to Harry.

A boy straightened up from his position, casually leaning against the corridor's wall. At his movement, Draco noticed Harry's body turn to stone. It literally felt as though Draco was standing next to a block of ice, whereas before Harry had been a living being, practically radiating warmth.

Taking especial notice of the one who had, to all appearances, caught Harry's attention, Draco saw with surprise it was a Ravenclaw. Ben Sriften, if Draco remembered right, which he always did.

Why would a Ravenclaw scare Harry like that? Blaise would have to organise for the boy to be tailed, that was a definite.

Turning Harry gently, Draco was surprised yet again, when the boy offered no protest.

Leading the shivering boy to class, Draco never noticed Harry's eyes slowly closing, or the alarming way in which his skin temperature rose, yet cold continued to radiate off him in waves.

Harry, however, had felt it acutely then, and still did now, a day later.

Too shaken to take much notice of it then, it was now all he could take notice of. Able to recognise the symptoms much faster now than he had before, Harry couldn't bring himself to go and find someone to feed off.

He'd tried brushing up against people, all day. All that had got him was concerned people asking if he needed help, and Draco Malfoy's quiet contemplation.

That was another thing which was pissing Harry off lately. It seemed, no matter what else was going on around him, Harry could always sense when Draco was watching him. It had just been a vague feeling before, like the way he could sense others looking at him. But now he could practically give a full diagnostic on Draco's health, mental welfare, and his present emotional status. Which was, not only disconcerting, but confusing, and annoying, and really not what Harry needed right now…Argh…!

Cold air rushed through the room, ruffling bed covers, drapes and spilling Dean's homework across the floor.

Even more pissed off than he had been before, Harry turned and drove his fist into the dorm wall as hard as he could.

Stone groaned, and bent inwards, but held. Despite being magically reinforced, when Harry drew his hand back, there was a light coating of dust across his knuckles. Able to withstand the force of the punch, the walls had crumbled slightly at the impact, leaving Harry with a small dent in the wall, and pulverised stone on his hands.

Leaning wearily against the wall, Harry pulled his knees up and rested his head in his lap.

Hours passed and Harry remained in his present position. The thundering of feet and boisterous laughing reached his ears, and Harry knew the others were coming into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Staying tucked up in his isolated corner of the bathroom, Harry stayed quiet whilst the others cleaned themselves up, and didn't move, even when they went back to the dorm.

The night grew darker, Harry's friends fell asleep in the dorm they shared, and time passed in silence.

Harry remained where he was, in the dust that had resulted from his anger, too tired, upset, and muddled, to notice he had started glowing once more.

The bathroom had an odd night. One moment it was freezing cold, with icicles forming from the water dripping at the taps, the next blazing hot, like the inner depths of hell.

And through it all, Harry glowed.

Chapter 18: Sometimes sight's not all you need - part seven

If yesterday hadn't started off bad enough, this one was proving to be a hell of a lot worse. Yesterday, Harry hadn't been there when Draco went to pick him up in the morning, but that was okay, since he'd simply decided to go to lessons on his own, and he'd managed all right. He'd even apologised, so Draco had more than forgiven him, and assumed that Harry had understood the seriousness of his actions.

Apparently not.

Today Draco had got up even earlier than he normally did, which was usually 5:00 AM, just so he could check on Blaise and see if he'd managed to scrounge up any information on the Ravenclaw; Ben Sriften. Blaise had, as usual, come through on the sources front, and Draco had not been pleased with what he'd been told.

A vague feeling of unease had pestered him continuously, another reason for his getting up early - he'd had trouble sleeping - so Draco had set off early to collect Harry. After all, waiting whilst the boy got dressed and gathered his stuff together would be preferable to sitting in his own room doing nothing. At least this way, Draco would be there to protect Harry should the need arise.

Only he'd gotten there, and then been told, again, by the Weasley, that he had; "no idea where Harry was". Forgoing the same search performed the other day, Draco had raced down to their first class, only to find it completely empty, and the Professor not even there yet.

Now, Draco was fast approaching Gryffindor tower again, resolved to go through the search he'd carried out yesterday. Upon entering the common room he was greeted with a stunned silence, as the freshly woken Gryffindors stared at one of Slytherins most notorious ringleaders in sleepy shock.

Rejecting his usual, pasted on sneer, Draco climbed the stairs, knocking once on the dorm room door before entering, to alert the Gryffindors within of his presence.

Ron was staring at Harry's empty bed with dim befuddlement, his brain obviously not advanced enough to fully grasp the fact that his best mate had apparently vanished off the face of the earth. Again. Pointedly ignoring Draco's presence, Dean and Seamus went about their business as usual, with the minor exception of gathering Ron's gear together at the same time. Evidently, they had noticed their friend's lack of grey matter, and recognised he was incapable of the simplest of acts.

The only individual not ignoring him or minus vital brain cells, was perched on the end of their bed, bag clasped in both hands, nervously watching his perusal of the room.

"A word, Longbottom?" Not waiting for a response, Draco headed further into the room, studying the stone wall running behind Neville and Harry's beds, as he moved towards Harry's corner of the room.

Neville got up from his bed, and followed behind the Slytherin, leaving his bag behind as he did so. Not looking to the other Gryffindors, Draco trusted in Neville's acting abilities, and pretended impatient disdain whilst he waited for the other boy to make his timid approach.

"Yes, Malfoy? What ddo you wwant?"

Turning around at last, Draco leaned forward slightly, and lowered his voice, placing an inconspicuous mumbling charm at the same time.

"What's your report?" Immediately Neville's face lost its scared look, replaced by a calm confidence as he began recounting what he'd learned so far.

"He hasn't been sleeping well, if at all. Whenever I check he seems to be studying, whether its extra that has been set by Dumbledore, or something he's doing on his own remains unknown."

"He's withdrawn from the group. He never really talked or hanged out with the rest of the Gryffindors, but lately he's barely even spoken to Ron and Hermione, as I'm sure you've already heard from Hermione herself."

"It's hard to say what exactly is wrong, as he won't tell anybody, not even a hint. I can't even tell you if he knows himself or not, let alone if he is not telling of his own volition or because he was told not to by someone…"

Trailing off at the end, Neville looked at Draco, obviously expecting him to draw the same conclusion he had. The only person who would have told Harry not to tell his best friends something, with even the tiniest chance that he'd listen, would be Dumbledore. Obviously there was a lot Dumbledore wasn't telling Draco about.

Scowling for real for once, Draco filed the information away for future use, along with the knowledge that his uncle had been ordered not to tell him anything as well.

"What about our present situation? What time did he come in last night? Did you hear anything - someone entering or leaving the dorm?"

Already shaking his head, Neville let his expression warn Draco that it wasn't good news.

"I did as you ordered, and stayed awake until he returned to the dorm. I haven't gotten any sleep since the other night."

"Ah." Neville waited patiently for Draco to recover from his stunned silence, ignoring the tempting opportunity to tease his normally unflappable leader. Grey eyes turned inwards contemplatively, as Draco turned the information over in his head. Automatically trusting to his powers, Draco searched his knowledge for clues, flaws, anything that would help with this mission. Normally driven, Draco had never felt quite this determined to succeed on one of his missions, and he hesitated a moment before brushing the feeling aside for later analysis.

A moment passed, as Draco frowned in concentration, then a golden light appeared to spark from within his eyes, growing brighter until the grey was completely engulfed by it. Neville shifted slightly, hiding Draco's face from the other's view, and watched the other boy's face for signs of what he'd found.

A long while passed as Draco observed the golden light obscuring his view, then snippets of memory flew out of nowhere, and laid themselves down across the parchment of gold.

As Harry went past each table, the Hall gradually fell silent, everyone staring and taking in the glowing, elfin boy who was, to their eyes, gliding through their midst.

Harry looked around the Hall, his green eyes seeming to seek out someone in particular. Draco watched as those vibrant eyes landed on his own, searching them with his own for an instant, before he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of the gaze. A moment passed, then Harry nodded back, rose staining his luminous cheeks for an instant, before he averted his gaze.

Harry absentmindedly pruned his Wiskerfey plant, evidently deep in thought, as he paid no attention to the fact that he was perilously close to overpruning the poor object of his inattention.

Just as Draco was reaching to stop Harry's automatic hand, the boy shook himself, as though returning from a far away place. Stopping Harry's hand with his own, Draco looked down in amusement as the boy glanced down in surprise, before lifting his gaze upwards.

Holding those vibrant green eyes with his own, Draco didn't miss the fact that Harry had stopped glowing since the welcoming feast, nor did he miss the fact that he looked just as beautiful without that strange luminescence. However, Draco had work to do, and couldn't linger over unimportant details. Reaching down, Draco carefully removed the sharp pruning shears from Harry's motionless hands, vaguely surprised when he received no protest. Glancing back up at Harry's face, Draco realised Harry's own surprise had rendered the boy silent, and allowed himself the luxury of true amusement, wondering absently about Harry's out of character behaviour.

"Wouldn't want you to fail Herbology now, would we?"

"Yep, he was sleeping like a baby. At least we have that piece of good news, anyway."

Draco swallowed the relief that he felt at Neville's report, knowing he still had the rest of the meeting to get through, and now was not the time to relax.

"Neville! Were you followed!"

Yep, there goes that relaxation. Draco could practically feel it fly over his head. Ignoring his strangely rebellious thoughts, Draco tuned in to what Neville was saying, chastising himself as he knew how important this was.

"Well, I thought I was, but when I checked there was no sign of anybody. I was using that Revealingto spell you taught us Hermione, so there was nobody using an invisibility spell, or an invisibility cloak, or anything like that. There was just…nobody."

A shiver made its way down Draco's spine, and he would have called it a premonition, if he'd had that power. Luckily though, he didn't, and it was just a draft in a drafty corridor. Still…it might be a good idea to move the meeting to the proper place, hidden, and much less likely to be stumbled across.

"Draco, you know Neville's abilities better than anyone,"

Hermione's voice, crystal clear, easily sounded down the corridor. Blocking the urge to curse and hush her, Draco reminded her to be cautious as slyly as he could.

"Yes, Hermione? What are you getting at?"

A deep sigh followed Draco's words, and he knew she'd got the hidden message. She was far too stubborn of course, which was both an asset and one of the main causes of Draco's problems, and she'd evidently decided risking exposure was worth it in order to keep their hiding places secret.

"He's never wrong about being followed. If the spell didn't work, then they must have found a way to get around it, or else I missed something. Neville, always knows, Draco. I think we need to approach Harry, and soon, before things get out of our control."

Damnit, why did she always have to be stubborn about Draco interacting with Harry? For years he'd managed to maintain a distance from the other boy, and Draco was reluctant to abandon all that hard work, even if this way would make their mission more likely to succeed. Forcibly locking away his misgivings, Draco employed all of his professionalism, in order to make the right decision.

"Okay. You can ease the way, and I'll talk to him in two days. I think that's as soon as we can do it, without making anyone too suspicious."

Happy to have gotten her way finally, Hermione followed without protest as they made their cautious way to the proper meeting place, Draco breathing a silent sigh of relief that she was pacified for the moment. Now, all he had to do was come up with an alternate plan, which would work just as well…

Almost at the infirmary, Draco hesitated at the sight of the 'golden trio' standing outside the door, apparently engaged in an argument about something. The hesitation didn't last very long, and Draco prepared himself for all possibilities as he made his approach.

"Granger. Weasley…Harry."

Hermione raised her chin, a slight smile appearing on her face at Draco's choice of names. Ron scowled, but remained silent, for one reason or another.

"So, what is the golden trio up to? Breaking in to steal medical supplies?"

Ron's eyes flashed, and he started to step forward, evidently against Draco's directness. But, honestly, how else was he supposed to find out what was going on?

"Actually, we're here because Harry needs medical attention. And yourself?"

Draco raised his arm in silent explanation, the blood stains clearly visible now, mentally thanking Hermione for her superb timing. Ignoring the others, Draco turned his attention to the strangely silent 'boy-wonder', surprised to see Harry had averted his face from them all.

Running his eyes appraisingly over Harry's silent form, Draco missed the flash of triumph that lit Hermione's gaze when she saw the way Draco lingered on Harry's butt. Draco didn't, however, miss the tight black jeans, and baggy, dark blue top, which were clinging to Harry's form. Finding himself suddenly caught, Draco remained incapable of pulling his gaze away, let alone speaking comprehensively.

Harry hunched his shoulders briefly, before turning Draco's direction and raising his eyes.

"Please don't do that."

Startled, Draco ripped his eyes from Harry's butt, and looked up. Meeting Harry's gaze, Draco was shocked and concerned when he realised what was wrong with him. The boy was blind.

Harry stiffened more if possible, and his wide, misted eyes fixed on Draco's face. Draco almost jumped, then instinctively held absolutely still, as those eyes seemed to look directly into his own, searching for something.

A moment passed, and then Harry slowly relaxed his body, the tension seeping away so subtly, it was impossible to tell he'd been tense in the first place. Draco looked back to Harry's face quizzically, but Harry's eyes had moved and Draco sharply reminded himself that Harry couldn't see at the moment. That was why he was in the infirmary in the first place. Still, strange that the boy had known it was Draco, and even stranger that that had calmed him.

After examining Harry's eyes, Dumbledore lightly sighed and patted Harry's hand.

"Ah yes, I was expecting something like this to happen, just not so soon, still…" Dumbledore broke off, as his brain followed a trail of thought unknown to the others.

"Don't worry Harry, you're eyesight will return. At a guess I'd say it will be a day or two, but all we can do is wait I'm afraid. Mister Malfoy, Mister Zabini, I'm sure you won't mind ensuring Harry gets back to his room all right, will you?"

"The best we can do is have you come for a check up every day, I'm sorry Harry. I know this is the last thing you need, but it's the only course of action available. And don't worry, I'll make sure Madame Pomfrey doesn't bother you again."

Bestowing a nod and a benevolent smile on all present, the aged wizard then exited the room, the unconscious Pomfrey floating out after him.

Fixing his Godfather with a stare few could rival, if any, Draco arched an expectant eyebrow. What the hell did Dumbledore mean, 'he'd been expecting something like this'?

His Godfather held Draco's gaze for a moment, then turned and exited himself, snapping a half-hearted, "You heard him, get Potter to his room." behind him.

Draco helped Harry sit on his bed after he'd sent Blaise back to his normal tasks. A tingling swept over Draco as he did so, and he recognised the feeling of a ward accepting. Looking at Harry in surprise Draco wondered how Harry had created this particular ward, it should have been impossible as it had to be placed by someone other than the recipient.

Letting go of Harry, Draco moved and perched on the bed which just had to be Ron's. Although he didn't harbour any major feelings of dislike towards the red head, the thought of how he would react to knowing Draco had actually been on his bed, was simply too tempting to miss.

Draco had settled onto Ron's bed, when he noticed Harry draw his knees up to his chest, and begin shivering.

It was probably a natural reaction to the shock he'd just suffered, but still, the sight sent an unexpected pang through Draco's chest. The second such in one day, and Draco brushed aside the idea that he cared more then he should, replacing them with the idea that he had indigestion. Something easily cured.

Taking off his cloak, Draco reached through the wards on Harry's bed and draped it over the shivering golden boy. Noticing the way he jumped at contact, Draco pored through his knowledge of the golden boy, wondering what had made him so jittery.

"Harry? Why do you have this ward around your bed? You didn't do it yourself, did you?"

Draco held his breath for the answer. Harry couldn't have done it himself, so either he told Draco who had done it, or he lied. Despite feeling bad for luring Harry into a verbal trap, Draco knew it was important to determine if Harry trusted him or not, and this would go a long way to answering that question.

"No, I didn't put it up. Snape did, on Dumbledore's orders. I'm not entirely sure why he did it, but Snape said something about keeping people out, extra privacy or something."

Well, reasonably honest at any rate. It sounded like something Dumbledore would do, and he would send Snape to carry out the order, but Harry was being just a bit too vague.

Anybody else would believe they'd been told the truth, but Draco could worm out the best liars, and something about the speech sounded just a bit off. Meaning Harry probably knew more than he was letting on about Dumbledore's motivations. Not surprising seeing how Dumbledore treated Harry like an equal, and the likelihood of him sugar coating anything for Harry was very slim. On the whole, the answer raised more questions than it answered.

The document before Draco was the same as it had been before, still depicting the Great Hall. But with some minor differences, some additions.

Up, by the ceiling in the Great Hall, were what appeared to be pipes. Apart from the fact they hadn't been there before, they were larger than normal, big enough to contain a person, if they crouched.

Tracing the pipes across the page with his finger, Draco narrowed his eyes when he saw how the ran off the edge, no doubt continuing to run along the part of the ceiling which wasn't covered on that scroll. The situation was worse than they'd thought, if they'd managed to get such extensive secret passages, without being discovered.

Gently dropping the sheet, his grey eyes stared at it sightlessly for a moment, absorbing this new detail, before a warm, victorious, light appeared in them.


They weren't undiscovered now, and this information would help them a lot.

Neville hurriedly pressed a note into Draco's hand, as he skittered past in the corridor. Not even pausing, Draco continued on his way to fetch Harry from his dorm room. When he was nearly halfway there, he smoothly swung into a little niche where he could open the note out of sight.

Something weird happened in the dorm last night.

The room was below freezing, and I swear a draft came from Harry.

He pretended to be asleep when we came in, but he was faking it.

Not sure what this means, but it felt important.

Re-reading the note, Draco frowned slightly. Below freezing? Draft from Harry? Sure, it was a little odd, but maybe the heating was playing up, like it did in the dungeons all the time? Still, if Neville had 'felt' it was important, then it undoubtedly was. Another of Neville's gifts, which linked in with sensing when he was under some kind of surveillance, but warned him of other kinds of threats. So the room being cold was dangerous in some way, but in what way? If only Dumbledore would open up, and give Draco something more to work with. Still, getting to Harry seemed more important than before, and Draco almost ran in his haste to get there quicker.

Draco had moved up next to Harry when he had seen the expression his charge was wearing. Adept at reading faces, this one was an open book to him, and Draco knew Harry was seeing something. Then the expression had gone from wonder to fear to disgust, and the chill had begun.

Obviously, whatever it was Harry was seeing, he didn't like it one bit. Looking in the same direction as Harry, Draco made a note of everyone in sight, determined to find out if they were involved in any way with what was happening to Harry.

A boy straightened up from his position, casually leaning against the corridor's wall. At his movement, Draco noticed Harry's body turn to stone. It literally felt as though Draco was standing next to a block of ice, whereas before Harry had been a living being, practically radiating warmth.

Taking especial notice of the one who had, to all appearances, caught Harry's attention, Draco saw with surprise it was a Ravenclaw. Ben Sriften, if Draco remembered right, which he always did.

Why would a Ravenclaw scare Harry like that? Blaise would have to organise for the boy to be tailed, that was a definite.

Turning Harry gently, Draco was surprised yet again, when the boy offered no protest.

Snapping out of his trance-like state, Draco immediately knew several things he hadn't focused on before.

Harry had been 'glowing' the first night back at school. The fact hadn't sunk in completely before, namely because the boy was just too captivating in that state for anything other than his beauty to register. Now that he thought about it though, Draco realised something must have happened to stop the glow, or Harry must have done something, otherwise the boy would still be glowing.

Harry was aware of at least part of what was happening to him, and Dumbledore definitely knew more than he was letting on. Severus also knew something, and out of the others who knew - one of which was missing, the other of which was known for being crackers and obscure in his information - he was undoubtedly the best choice for questioning.

Harry had also been the cause of the chill in the Gryffindor dorm, as Neville had felt to be the case. There had also been two other occasions when something similar had happened; after Madame Pomfrey's attack, and on the way to Potions. Cold air had poured off of Harry when he had apparently 'seen' the Ravenclaw, who Blaise had informed him was known for going way over the top on dates. According to Blaise, Ben Sriften made Madame Pomfrey look like the rank amateur she was. Several of his dates, male dates, had made noises of being abused, but - money had exchanged hands, no real harm had been caused - and the incidents were forgotten.

Linking those pieces of information to what Draco had discovered about the secret tunnel passages, that even the Weasley twins had been unaware of, it didn't take much thinking to figure out the Ravenclaw had triggered the first 'attack of the chills' - that Draco was aware of anyway. Still, his powers had helped, rearranging the memories - out of chronological order, and placing relevant events side by side, where Draco could examine them.

The timing of Harry's loss of sight was somewhat unusual. The day after Draco had called a meeting, to which Neville had almost certainly been followed, resulting in a huge delay in the plans Draco had just laid down.

"Neville, I want you to go find Pansy - send her to Severus. Hopefully, if she employs her skills appropriately, we'll be able to find out what Dumbledore is hiding from us. I'll search for Harry, and put out the word to the others." Draco made to walk around Neville, but the other boy put out an arm to stop him. Feeling the rare urge to rip somebody's head off, Draco managed to restrain himself based on the unusualness of the feeling.


If Neville was taken about by the terse query, he didn't show it, merely waited a moment longer until he was sure Draco was listening to him.

"Are you going against Dumbledore?" Draco froze, the question highlighting something he had forgotten in his haste.

Dumbledore had deliberately left out information, when he had employed Draco's skills for this task, something he knew better than to do. As a result, Dumbledore only resorted to skipping details, if he thought it necessary, and event then only rarely. If he had done so for this case, then by retrieving the information anyway, Draco's actions could be interpreted as a breakaway from the Order of the Phoenix, which he had chosen to aid in this battle. The repercussions of the act could be very serious, particularly if the enemies found out about it, and saw it as a sign of weakness.

But even worse than that thought, was the fact that Draco had forgotten to consider it.

"If necessary, yes. I will not lose such an important player, just to satisfy the old bat's need for mysteriousness. We are to attempt to remain their allies, but if that gets in the way of accomplishing our tasks…the tasks take precedence."

Brushing past Neville, Draco headed out to start the search, thus missing the small smile that curled the boy's lips when he heard Draco's answer.

"Looks like Hermione was right, again. She's going to be unbearable after this."

Dean and Seamus had long since departed for class, dragging Ron with them once they were satisfied Draco wasn't going to harm Neville in any way. Turning to face the rest of the dorm, Neville shook his head in amusement, before picking up his bag and heading for class himself. If he hurried, he'd just manage to slip the word to Pansy and the others.

Chapter 19 : Sometimes sight's not all you need - part eight

Three fucking hours! Three fucking, stupid, bloody hours! And still no sign of Harry. Honestly, how far could a blind boy go? Sure, he had been missing all night as well as all morning, but still…

Running a hand roughly through his hair, Draco ignored the shocked looks on the faces of the other students making their way to their lessons, and continued back towards the Gryffindor tower. Yes, the prince of Slytherin was allowing himself to look rumpled for once, whoopeedoo! There had to be a clue in the dorms, something Draco had missed before…

Furiously berating himself for not checking the place over with his powers earlier, for fear of discovery, Draco prayed his oversight wouldn't cost Harry his health in some way.

Robes flapping, Draco stormed into the common room, the portrait taking one look at his face and forgoing asking for the password. Empty. Good, he'd be able to get it over with quicker.

Spelling the portrait shut, so it wouldn't open even if someone used 'Alohomora' on it, Draco then put up a blocking spell, so that no-one could enter the common room from any other entry point.

Moving over to the centre of the common room, Draco shook his arms lightly, loosening up as he prepared to reach for the well of power within him. The whole thing would be a waste if he was too worked up to access the power, let alone put it to use.

Taking a deep breath, Draco raised his arms, eyes closed as a look of concentration covered his face.

A whirling warmth darted and hid around his body. Chasing it carefully, Draco waited for it to calm, accepting his approach as he moved closer. Reaching the warmth, Draco felt the usual tingle using his powers produced, his gaze turning golden underneath his lids as he channelled the powers through himself.

Before the power had even faded to a glow, Draco was opening his eyes, surveying his work.

Everything was covered in a golden sparkle, from the rug on the floor, to the stones on the ceiling. The trail of sparkles outlined all of the items vividly. The outline of a pen hidden behind a couch shined brightly enough to be seen through the couch itself. The hidden tunnel in the walls was visible as well, glowing through the thick stone, and proving Draco was as thorough as ever in his work.

Draco made his way across the room, the sparkles dimming behind him, until they had faded completely, as his focus moved the shining colour forward in sync with his movements. He reached the first step leading towards the boy's dorms, and the gold flooded forwards eagerly, brightening the dim passage and lighting up all the hidden nooks and crannies.

Draco did a sweep of all of the boy's dorms, and found them clean, although why Weasley had such a big stock of wizard condoms was anybody's guess. It wasn't like he needed them, after all.

Moving on to the bathroom, Draco paused in the doorway, watching as the light spread slowly, almost reluctantly, forward.

Soon the sinks were outlined in the glitter of Draco's power, then the pipes and mirrors, then the showers and stalls. Strangely enough, the light paused there, hovering almost, as though undecided whether to continue or not.

Frowning, Draco was about to step forward when he sensed something, right on the edge of his awareness. Focusing, Draco let the glow ebb in strength momentarily, sending his attention elsewhere. Instantly, he found himself inundated with temperatures. One minute boiling hot, the next minute freezing his ass off. The pipes were groaning in protest at the treatment, icicles hanging off them in some areas, steam rising from them in others.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Draco glanced at the area behind the stalls with mild apprehension. No wonder his powers were feeling a bit cautious. The kind of magic to cause this reaction…and so obviously unstable, uncontrolled…

Making up his mind, Draco released his golden magic, feeling it slide back beneath the surface eagerly, taking the sparkles with it. The bathroom instantly seemed dimmer, even when Draco flicked the lights on. The back of the room being the exception, as a strange light seemed to flicker over the tops of the stalls.

Moving forwards a step, Draco cautiously waited for any kind of acknowledgement of his presence, or a change in the power ahead of him. When nothing happened, he began moving forwards more confidently, pausing after every step just in case that should change.

Reaching the end of the stalls, he hesitated, torn between finding out what was hidden behind the showers, and the caution his instincts were flooding his system with. Eventually Draco's need to find Harry overrode his sense of caution, and he rounded the corner almost hurriedly, wanting to complete the search as fast as possible.

Sat with his back against the wall, pressed tight into the deepest corner, was Harry, knees drawn up to his chest in an unconscious gesture of defensiveness.

That wasn't what made Draco pull up short though, and it definitely wasn't what violently tore a gasp from his throat. No, it was more than a vulnerable Harry Potter, or such an obvious hiding place, that shocked Draco into immobility. Rather it was the rippling aura of bright, white light, flickering across the other boy's skin, like the ripples of light created when a sunbeam passes through a glass of water.

Shining more intensely than the first day back, the boy-who-lived was glowing constantly, so brightly he was lighting up the dark corner he had hidden himself in, as though he were one of those light-bulbs that muggles loved so much.

Staggering forward, Draco dropped to his knees beside the other boy, knowing better than to ask if he was all right. Raising a hesitant hand, Draco paused with it directly above Harry's shoulder, feeling the temperatures given off by the boy's skin, like some thick viscous liquid he was trying to push his hand through.

Just as Draco was about to lower his hand and risk the consequences, Harry raised his head from where it rested against his knees.

Glittering green eyes instantly captured Draco's gaze, the only relief in the face of such blinding light. Harry's entire face was thrown into sharp relief, as the light revealed him to Draco's gaze unflinchingly, and Draco looked Harry over. Noting the sheen of sweat that dotted his brow, and the tenseness his features hadn't had the other day, Draco deduced the fact that Harry wasn't meant to be glowing, and whatever he had done to make the glow go away, it needed to be done again.

Shifting slightly, Draco changed the direction of his hand, raising it to gently touch Harry's cheek instead. Reaching through the viscous air slowed the movement of Draco's hand, making it appear to move in almost slow motion towards Harry' cheek.

Expecting to encounter searing heat, or freezing cold, Draco was distantly surprised that nothing out of the ordinary happened when he touched the glowing boy's skin. Eyebrows crinkling with concern, Draco let his mask drop for once, his grey eyes lightening to an almost white colour, and a tinge of gold chasing around the irises, as he let the boy-who-lived see what he never let anyone see, not completely. The real Draco Malfoy.

"Harry, Harry, can you hear me? I need to know you can hear me, okay? Make a sign, or something." Eyelids fluttered closed, and a sigh fell from Harry's lips as he whispered something so softly, Draco almost missed it.


Taking that as the sign, Draco reached out to the boy, easing an arm between his back and the bathroom wall, trying to shift Harry as gently as he could. Draco had just positioned Harry in his lap, desperately manoeuvring so that he could pick the boy up, and hopefully get him to help in time.

As the skin of Draco's arm brushed against Harry's neck, a strange tingle arced between them, almost like an electric shock.

Suddenly, Harry shifted, a tensing and loosening of muscles that Draco felt through Harry's shirt, which reminded him of a giant cat, limbering up after a long, after-noon nap.


Draco's voice sounded wary, even to his own ears, but he was beyond caring about appearances at that point. Harry rubbed his cheek against Draco's chest, a curious feline motion, which matched Draco's earlier impression, as well as the rumbling noise issuing from Harry's chest. The boy was purring.

As soon as Draco realised it, something inside him went curiously still, something which was obviously working a lot faster at figuring things out than he was - not surprising considering he had a gorgeous, elfin boy, perched on his lap, and purring into his chest. Not an everyday occurrence, but not something Draco wanted to miss either.

"You know what you need, don't you? You know what's wrong with you, making you act like this too? I'd wager you know everything, apart from Dumbledore's underhand meddling, and even that you might have a vague idea about."

Tilting his head slightly, Harry lazily lifted his lashes, green eyes peeking out at Draco in a slit, a warm look of longing colouring the eyes darker than normal.

"…I know…what I need…but, I won't take…not again…"

Only grasping vaguely what the murmured words meant, Draco knew what he had to do, and what he wanted to do.

"Don't take then - receive."

For a moment Harry's eyes widened slightly, as though the permission had been enough for him to momentarily rise above whatever was happening to him, then the glint of personality was gone, washed away as the heat returned.

Draco had an instant where he could have turned away, could have taken back his permission. He ignored it. Harry lifted his head higher still, eyes firmly locked on Draco's, as he rose until they were level.

Moving forwards, Draco watched, entranced, as Harry's eyes fluttered shut, breathing lightly on Draco's lips as instant before he touched them with his own. Momentarily forgetting to breath, Draco suffered through that butterfly-light touch, and the spark of hunger it conjured, valiantly employing his iron will to do so.

Meanwhile Harry continued his own slow brand of torture, pressing his lips to Draco's in light kisses, that never lingered long enough for Draco to deepen or reject the touch.

Growing impatient, Draco waited until Harry joined their lips again, then gripped the back of the boy's head with both hands, holding him where he was. Once certain Harry understood that Draco wasn't letting him go again, Draco lapped lightly at the other boy's mouth, demanding his payback.

Harry parted his lips with a sigh, relaxing into Draco's grasp with relief, feeling the strength pour back into him at the first touch of Draco's tongue. A jolt of electricity tore through them, triggering Draco's golden power, which then flooded their systems' with warmth and belonging.

Just as they were running out of oxygen stores, that warm beast, lurking in the back of Harry's subconscious, came to the fore. Gliding through Harry's body, it spread tingles everywhere it went, then passed on to Draco through the liplock they still maintained. The tingles worked their magic, growing in intensity over time, instead of subsiding, until they both came simultaneously, crying out into each other's mouths.

Panting, they finally parted, just enough to lean their foreheads together as they remained sitting on the bathroom floor behind the stalls.

Recovered enough to think more clearly, Draco's gaze shot up and caught Harry's slightly guilty expression. Blinking, Draco realised something that temporarily made him forget the situation he was now in.

"Harry? Your eyesight's come back!"

Looking slightly startled, Harry actually raised a hand to his face, as though expecting to find a pair of glasses perched there. As the knowledge sunk in, Harry sat there for a moment, simply waving his own hand in front of his face, and watching it move with childlike delight.

Grinning to himself over Harry's preoccupation, Draco regained his normal thought processes much too soon, and wiped his face clear, reverting to the milder mask he wore around other members of the circle of light - which was still much warmer than the one he usually showed Harry, and more…suitable, given what they'd just shared.

"Come on, we need to go get cleaned up. I doubt it's worth going to lessons today, given how much we've missed, and I want to get you checked over by Dumbledore. You can wave at yourself on the way, now scootch!"

Harry didn't so much as blink at the slightly teasing tone Draco had adopted to go with his mask, and Draco herded him out of there before he could get obsessed with something else, like the mirrors for example.

As the door swung closed behind the two departing figures, neither one looked back in time to see the poor, abused pipe burst, and water drip down onto the melted tiles upon which they had previously been sitting. A faint glimmer of gold lingered where Draco had sat, which gradually spread with the help of the water, until the whole area was outlined with the sparkles. The twisted, melted tiles, slowly filled up, like a lump of rising dough, until the bathroom tiles had completely filled the golden outline. Having done its job, the gold faded away, leaving no evidence anything had happened, other than the dripping of water from the broken pipe.

Chapter 20 : Welcome to the fold

Harry squirmed as the cold blue tendril of magic slowly moved over his skin. Dumbledore performing the medical examination himself, since Madame Pomfrey was still being treated at St. Mungos. Gritting his teeth, Draco firmly removed his eyes from Harry's naked torso.

"Hmm…" Two pairs of eyes jerked up at the noise, one pair looking expectant, the other looking cynical. "Yes, as suspected. Still, very curious."

Same old Dumbledore. You'd think he'd know better than to test the nerves of male wizarding adolescents, but noo…any time you need to know something, he gives you the information in his own damn time, and in whatever quirky format that takes his fancy.

"What, Headmaster? We knew what was wrong, so why did you need to examine me?" Harry's green eyes briefly flicked in Draco's direction, a flicker of shyness easily visible in their depths.

If Draco weren't presently putting all of his effort into maintaining his mask, he'd be tempted to snort in amusement. Afterall, he and Harry had just done something rather more intimate than taking a shirt off, but the way Harry was acting you'd think nothing had happened. Wait a minute…snorting would fit in with his mask just fine, and provide him some form of relief for the emotions running rampant through him.

"Well, yes, we did know what was wrong before, Harry." Dumbledore quickly jumped in, keeping Harry from acting upon the glare he was presently giving Draco. A promise of retribution for the noise of derision.

"We still didn't know the answer to that rather…pertinent fact associated with your, uh…'illness'. Now, we do. This should make it much easier for you now, as you won't have to get quite so 'ill' again. Plus, since you have…temporarily, cemented, the end of your 'illness', so to speak, you will have an in-built defense from any…unwanted attention."

Draco looked from the overly-twinkling Headmaster, to a cute 'brow-wrinkled-in-confusion' Harry.

Sighing heavily, he mentally berated himself for the chance he was about to willingly abandon. "I can go, you know? If it will make this code thing any easier?"

"Oh, yes, would you Draco? Thanks, that would be a great deal of help. I feel I am managing to get my point across perfectly well, but Harry…doesn't quite have the experience necessary to decode yet, so it seems."

As soon as the door had closed behind the thoroughly disgruntled Draco, Dumbledore offered Harry his shirt back, the blue tendril of magic having been sucked back into Dumbledore's wand.

"Now, Harry, Draco likely won't wait long, so we'll have to make it quick." Harry looked up from dressing, nodding slightly to indicate Dumbledore continue.

"Draco is your mate." Harry accidentally ripped off the button he was trying to do up.

"Given what you two described, and the residue of power clinging to your skin, I can get a pretty accurate idea of what happened. I may have never come across anyone like you before, but from the knowledge people have acquired, the only way to get better from such a major…abstinence, is either an equally major drain, or contact with your mate."

"Since Mr Malfoy was not only able to walk perfectly well, but steadier on his feet than you, I'd have to go with the latter. He is your mate."

"Now, I realise this is a shock for you, I'd be surprised if it wasn't." Harry shut the mouth he'd just opened, as Dumbledore talked past the emerging denials. "However, even if we find out he isn't your mate in the future, and I am in fact wrong. Highly unlikely though that may be. There are still several things you will need to know when dealing with your mate."

"You will be drawn to them, for obvious reasons. Staying away from them for long periods of time will be extremely…uncomfortable, for the both of you. The best I can think to describe it, is as a faint gnawing sensation that will increase in strength the longer you are apart, leading, eventually, to illness."

"The quick fix for that will be to touch him upon seeing him again, obviously. I don't know if it needs to be skin-on-skin, or whether the proximity is what matters. Either way, brushing his hand ought to do, and be inconspicuous enough to not rouse suspicions, if done right."

Here, Dumbledore paused, pinning Harry with a look, as though weighing the boy's ability to be inconspicuous. Brushing off his doubt, Dumbledore reasoned it wouldn't make much difference if people thought Harry fancied Draco anyway, as, with any luck, they would be actual mates, and as such become a couple eventually. Eyes peering into the distance once more, Dumbledore looked at Fawkes as he tried to recall any more pertinent details Harry might need to know.

"I'm not sure how his presence will affect your need to feed, although for now I would continue the casual feeding. Now that I think about it…" Trailing off, Dumbledore looked at Harry with a frown of confusion marring his wrinkled brow.

"Why did you go into such deep hunger anyway? Even if the incident with Madame Pomfrey made you hesitant to deep-feed, you shouldn't have gotten so bad so quickly…"

Raising his bushy eyebrows, Dumbledore turned an expectant look on Harry that made him squirm once more, and this time it wasn't with cold, or with magic. It was with nerves.

"…I'm not really sure..." Chancing a glance up, Harry saw the Headmaster wasn't buying it, so tried to inject a spot of truth into his response. "…I think it might have been tied to my emotions, maybe. I have been on a bit of a rollercoaster lately…"

"Hmm…yes, I suppose that could account for the faster reaction. The proximity to your mate probably unconsciously added to the strain, but that should disappear now that you have 'joined', so to speak. Although," Here Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled extra brightly, "I must risk getting a bit personal here, and say that, at the moment, that 'joining' or 'bonding' if you will, is only temporary. A, reprieve, if you will, which will need to be replaced with a permanent 'bond' sometime in the future. One which will, be, ah, caused by a…physical joining…so to speak."

For a moment Harry just stared at the Headmaster, wondering what was so personal about that. What was he talking about anyway; joining hands? Or kissing again? Or…Oh!

Red spread across Harry's face with the speed of a raging fire, and feeling just as hot. Right then the door to Dumbledore's office was yanked open, and an irate Draco poked his head around the corner. Right when Harry least wanted to see him, or be seen by him.

Either the colour of Harry's face wasn't all that bad, or else Draco was deliberately ignoring the blush, since he didn't even blink when his eyes absorbed the scene in front of him.

"Headmaster, I need to talk to you about something later, but right now, if you're finished, there's something I need to show Harry. Would you mind…?"

Dumbledore looked up at the blond boy, and something in his blue gaze told Draco the old man knew exactly what he wanted to talk to him about. He probably knew exactly what Draco wanted to 'show' Harry as well, and was unlikely to let him do so without his consent. Still, Draco wasn't worried. What better way to hammer in the fact that he was through with consulting Dumbledore on everything, than by executing a plan, with or without approval?

"Certainly. You know where to find me, as always."

Nodding curtly, Draco gestured for Harry to walk out before him, wanting to guard the boy's back from this powerful, crazy, fruit-loop of a wizard. Draco's analytical mind absently noted the fact that Harry's shirt was missing a vital button, causing it to gape open, flashing Harry's body from his abdomen to the top of his jeans. Keeping his back to the exit, Draco began to edge out of the office after Harry, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Oh, and Draco, before you rush off. I think it's good to see you getting to know Harry. Developing attachments with him, and, maybe, even introducing him to your 'friends'." For a moment, Draco just stared at the man he occasionally thought of as an ally, then nodded his acceptance and thanks for what amounted to the man's 'blessing' of his plan.

"I look forward to our meeting later."

Closing the door with a firm tug, Draco finally turned around, shaking his head at the man's political manoeuvring. It was almost good enough to make him an honorary Malfoy, and there weren't too many of those around. Giving his 'blessing' of Draco's plans, when he knew that he had just been cordially invited to a 'meeting' in which Draco was going to re-affirm the boundaries of their working relationship.

No more checking his every move with Dumbledore first. No more excessive compromise, at Dumbledore's orders. The two groups were not one and the same. Dumbledore might run one, but Draco was in charge of the other, and it was high time the old man realised how much leeway Draco had been granting him. Not to mention the level of corruption running riot in the ranks of his, supposedly 'perfect', Order of the Phoenix.

Still, the analyst in Draco had to stand back and admire the man's work. He'd probably known about the leeway being granted him from the start, and decided to use it to his advantage before his free-pass ticket expired. Upon its present expiration, the man had practically performed a somersault, turning from 'difficult' to fully 'co-operative', or at the least, 'approving' of Draco's actions, in the blink of an eye.

Although galling to realise the old-coot, though quite insane, was able to outthink him, Draco was glad to know Dumbledore realised how important the Circle of Light was to his efforts in stopping Voldemort. It would make working together and negotiations a lot easier, in the long run.

Spotting Harry already halfway down the corridor, Draco took off after him, cursing at the boy's lack of sense. Anything could happen to him on his own, even if he did happen to have his sight back!

Hurriedly rounding the corner he had last seen Harry at, Draco found himself brought to a very abrupt halt. Pressed up against his front, Draco found himself face to face with an equally surprised Harry.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, both pairs of eyes wide, and both far too aware of the points at which their bodies touched.

"Umm…I was going to show you something, wasn't I…?" Harry looked at Draco then, really looked at him. Green eyes took in the dilated pupils and the dazed expression, and immediately leapt to the wrong conclusion.

Granted, Harry had been too blind to 'see' the way the other students looked at him during the past couple of days, but he had seen the teachers watching him before the students arrived. All had worn the same stunned, half-eager expression Draco was now sporting.

Maybe Dumbledore had been wrong for once. Maybe Draco wasn't his mate, and all these…feelings, were a side-effect from the feeding. What if the mild feeding had resulted in a backlash, causing Harry to feel something akin to what Madame Pomfrey had felt? That would mean both he and Draco were caught up in the same, though, undoubtedly, diluted 'addiction' that had gripped the nurse. In which case, it would be wisest for Harry to leave Draco alone from now on, and pray the addiction was mild enough to wear off on its own.

So, if he was really as resolved as all that, why was he letting Draco pull him along by his hand, as he went to show Harry something? Answer; no clue. But, for some reason, Harry felt he could trust Draco. He didn't get the same feelings of 'wrongness' he had gotten from the person who had crept into his dorm room two nights ago. In fact, if he squinted slightly, he swore he could see a familiar white light vaguely encompassing Draco's body. Harry blinked, and the colour disappeared. Shaking his head slightly, he returned his attention to following the other boy, finding himself eager to see what Draco wanted to show him.

After the first four turnings, Harry found he was completely lost. Having always assumed he was one of those people who knew his way around the school like the back of his hand, to realise that he didn't recognise the hall Draco was currently tugging him down was somewhat…unnerving. Following closely on the heels of that thought, came several more. Wherever he now was, why hadn't it been included on the Marauders Map? And, how come Fred and George had never mentioned the area?

Paying a lot more attention to his surroundings, and a lot less to the feel of Draco's hand wrapped firmly round his own, Harry took in the hallway he was currently walking down, trying to pinpoint how he knew he'd never been there before. Cold stone made up the walls, with the same large tiles covering the floor as in all the corridors at Hogwarts. Candles flickered in sconces, sending dancing shadows up and down the walls. They were evidently somewhere near the basement, that, Harry could tell by his vague recollection of directions. There was no chill breeze here though, no smell of damp, or mustiness. Overall, it felt very…clean. No dust, no cobwebs, no ghosts, no…noise. Just one long corridor, stretching out into the darkness ahead and behind.

Hang on a sec! Where was the doorway he and Draco had entered from? They hadn't been in the corridor for very long, yet there was no sign of where they'd entered, nor were there any doors lining the walls. Now that Harry was actively looking, he realised the whole place had a feeling of disuse, yet it was so clean it must have regular visitors of some sort. And there was no sound. No ghosts, no voices murmuring in the distance, no feet tapping in the corridor with them. No feet tapping at all.

Looking down in shock, Harry watched as the floor disappeared beneath his feet. Disintegrating into a grey mist, the floor drifted up around Draco and Harry. Then the walls started turning to mist, and the candles, all drifting slowly upwards. Feeling as though he should be falling, to match the corridor's rise, Harry was surprised to find he remained where he was. The corridor drifted away, yet Harry remained standing in the same place in the corridor. Except...there was no corridor, not now.

Turning to look at Draco, Harry was surprised to see the other boy looking at him with a slight smile adorning his face. Yet, no panic flickered through the boy-who-lived. There was no malevolence in that look, only quiet amusement and…resigned surprise?

A rushing noise filled the void Harry was currently in, and that chill wind that had been previously missing, rushed in to fill the space. As the wind whipped his gaping shirt open, Harry looked over at Draco again, only to find him rising like the corridor had. Turning to mist, the colours that used to make up the other boy faded, replaced by a glowing white light, which slowly rose in the same direction the corridor had gone.

Left alone in the vortex, Harry struggled to hold his hair out of his face, and find an escape route, or something…

Shining caught his eye, and he looked down at his feet. Coming up from beneath him, and rising fast, thousands of colours rose to greet him. Greens, blues, oranges, golds, browns, reds, violets, yellows, greys, blacks. Every colour imaginable, coming closer to Harry almost faster than he could see, looking like a smudge of colour in the distance, but getting bigger by the second.

Scarily reminiscent of his nightmare from a few days ago. Green eyes lifted once more, frantically looking for somewhere to hide. He didn't know what those things were, but he didn't want to be in the middle when they got there. Instead of escape, there was nothing but inky blackness above. A rainbow of colours below, a void above, and Harry Potter in-between. Not your everyday occurrence.

The colours finally reached Harry, brushing against him, winding around him, tingling against him like Dumbledore's magic had. Harry only had time to think 'this isn't so bad', then bright white light exploded around him.

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