Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Masks of Real Heroes	By : Aelys_Althea Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17770 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Many thanks to the wonderful J. K. Rowling who offered such a beautiful world for amateurs such as myself to frolick in. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction and all characters and original storylines of Harry Potter belong to her!

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter 18: Lightning Strikes A Sudden Blow
It was actually quite beautiful. Oh, Harry didn't think that someone like Draco would think so; Draco would likely take one look at the creature, the teal scales and half-raised ridge along each of its five necks, behold the withered, purplish frill fanning behind its ear holes and see the yellowish fangs that protruded out of a lipless mouth, and shudder at the very sight of it.
To Harry, though, the hatchling hydra was gorgeous.
"Alrigh', you lot, take a good look at 'im. Or her, as it may be. As yeh should know by now, hydras can' be sexed before they become yearlings. Most specialists actually think that they don't have a sex before that age; just choose whichever one is most in need in their population at the time." Hagrid cast a glance around the class eagerly; he always looked so excited to share knowledge of a 'newest pet'. "It'll probably be a couple of weeks before another head starts developing too, and by the time its able to be sexed it should have at least the beginnin' of all five.'
Hagrid beamed at the small sixth year class. It was the end of their second week back into term and the first lesson they had actually seen the hydra rather than just studied its ecology and viewed the egg. It had been an impressive egg, to be sure; 'big enough to make an omelette to share between most of the school' Hagrid had joked on more than one occasion. It had only hatched half a week ago, and only the middle of the three heads had opened any of its eyelids. That single black eye regarded the student audience from its small paddle pool with quiet intensity.
"Righ', now, before the end of today, I want yeh all teh have a single sketch of at least one of the heads teh use as a template for your finished copies due at the end of the hydra unit. Yeh'll be lookin' up the most important areas to keep an eye out for when handlin' one of these little beauties. All the pressure points, the ones they like and the ones they don', and which spots you should definitely avoid 'less you want a face full of boiling acid." He beamed again, as thought such a demise was the most delightful prospect in the world.
"It hasn't got any legs," Hannah noted, raising her hand and leaning forward slightly to peer into the pool. Harry credited her courage after the acid comment. It was true though, he realised. The hydra looked more like a three-headed snake than the lizard-like creature depicted in their textbook.
"No," Hagrid affirmed, "and 'e won', not till 'e's at least two years old. 'E'll grow little flippers first that should come sprout within a couple o' days; those'll become legs. Four of them, all up, unless it's a girl of course."
"Is that because of their dispersal?"
Hagrid turned his beaming smile onto Mandy at her quiet words. "Yes, it is. The girls don' usually trek far from the water. They wait for their mates to come to them. As this species of hydra is found both in the sea and in lakes, sometimes they need to move across land to find their mates."
"Tough, having to grow an extra couple of legs to get a girlfriend," Neville whispered to Harry under his breath. Harry hid a smile.
"Right! On with you all. 'E probably won' be spittin' any acid at his age, but it's best to stand back a little, just in case he decides to take a lunge at you." As one, all the students took a step backwards before riffling into their bags for parchment and charcoal.
"It's pretty tiny, really, when you actually look at it. I mean, hydra are supposed to grow as big as a dragon, right?" Neville muttered, shimmying himself onto his stomach. He grunted as he elbowed a stick from under his chest, flattening his parchment at the same time.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, at least. Even bigger, most of them, apparently." He was having trouble dropping his eyes from the creature in the pool for long enough to continue his sketch. The black eye seemed to have pinned him hypnotized, though he knew that wasn't possible for hydras. "I wonder where Hagrid got it from."
"Don't think too hard, Harry. I'm pretty sure Hagrids in the black market for this kind of thing. You know he wound up with a baby dragon when I was in first year?"
"What?" Harry blinked at Neville incredulously. "How?"
"Long story. Point is, he has a knack for collecting anything large and dangerous." Neville dropped his eyes to his parchment, sketching a quick curve. "Damn, I suck at drawing."
Harry murmured agreement at his own attempts, finally wrenching his gaze away from the creature to hash his own smattering of sketch. He had never spent much time drawing before. It was rather calming, even if he felt that, like Neville claimed, he didn't have much of an artist's hand.
Quiet had descended on the small class, an easy and comfortable hush. They had all grown quite comfortable with one another over, more even in the last few weeks than in the previous term. Harry could honestly say that even aside from the course content, Care of Magical Creatures was probably his favourite classes. Smaller classes were far preferable to those that held nearly the entire sixth year cohort. All of them knew and largely accepted each others quirks, of which Harry was grateful. One particular quirk, curled in his lap fast asleep, seemed to have become something like their class mascot.
Harry stroked a hand down Lyssy's spine, eliciting a sleepy meow and a burst of images into his head. 'What? Soft, pat me, rub my ears. Something wrong? Sleepy…' Even half-awake, the line of communication opened with ease. Lyssy never went anywhere without her collar, and had even come to take pride in it to a degree. Harry was relieved by the fact; he found he loved the constant source of mental contact, accessible even at a distance, he had discovered. Their understanding of one another only grew with time.
"Urgh, bloody thing put the head I was sketching down." Neville groaned, pushing himself up onto his knees. "Mr. Hydra, would you mind?"
The hydra, predictably, kept said head dunked firmly in the water.
Another grunt and Neville rose to his feet. Taking a step forward, he craned his neck in an attempt to glean a better look. The middle head shifted its black eye onto him.
Harry flickered his eyes between the both of them. "Um, Neville? I don't think you should…"
"It's okay, Harry, I'm not going to get too close or anything. I quite fancy keeping my skin covering my bones." Neville still took another step forward though.
Casting a glance over towards Hagrid, who had moved towards a large wooden crate with straw sticking out of it and was clanking through something that sounded oddly like pots and pans, Harry eased himself onto his knees. Lyssy slipped silently from his lap; she seemed to sense something was afoot. "Neville, I really don't think you should –"
A gurgling hiss cut him off. Neville had, naturally, taken another step closer, and with his approach the middle head arched its neck impressively, frill fluttering like the wings of a fledgling bird as it attempted to spread. The black, beady eye fixed upon Neville widely, though even blind the other two heads rose and pointed waveringly towards him.
"Neville…"
"No way."
For a moment, Harry thought Neville was disregarding his caution, but no, the words weren't directed towards him. The Gryffindor boy sounded faintly surprised, perhaps a little awed, and not scared in the least. Horrifyingly, he took another step forwards. "Who'd've thought?"
"Neville, what are you -?"
"Hey Harry, this guy speaks Parseltongue!"
Harry frowned, startled from his rising concern. He'd read about Parseltongue: speaking to snakes verbally, as impossible as that seemed. "I thought that only worked with snakes."
"Oh, Neville, did yeh speak with 'im?"
Neville turned as Hagrid stepped up towards him carrying, strangely – but not altogether unexpectedly given the noises he'd been eliciting from the barrel – a fistful of pans. "Did you know it could speak Parseltongue?"
Hagrid shrugged. "Some specialists say they migh', but not every hydra responds when people try. 'Sides, it's not like Parseltongues are all that common to test it." Holding out a pan as though he were gifting Neville with an entirely practical tool, he gestured towards the hydra hatchling. "They're a close relative of snake, yeh know. Say anything interestin'?"
Neville stared bemusedly at the pan. "Um, no, not really. Just warning me not to get too close." He hefted the pan. "What do I need a frying pan for?"
"What? Oh, it's not the pan that you really need, just a reflective surface of some sort. Hydras, see, they like the look of themselves. Of their own heads, yeh know? It's familiar, cause they always have 'em around 'em. So it's better to carry something reflective if yeh know yer coming across one."
"Yes, because a mirror would be too conventional?" Neville muttered just loud enough to hear. He grinned, though, to take the bluntness off his words. Hagrid didn't seem to even notice the jibe, continuing to smile blissfully at the hydra. Harry though he looked a bit like a doting parent.
"You can have a chat with 'im, if yeh like. Just… not too close, mind, Neville."
"Sure thing. Thanks, Hagrid."
Harry watched as Neville proceeded to hiss a string of 'words' at the hydra, brandishing his frying pan like a shield. The hydra attempted to flair its frill once more, before letting it drop slightly and hissing in reply. It was quite an impressive display to witness.
"…know that's Dark magic. Since second year…"
"Do you think we should say something?"
The whispers reached Harry's ear in a buzz of half-heard conversation. Glancing towards the two Hufflepuff girls, he blinked in surprise as he noticed the wariness on their faces. No, it was more than wariness. Fear.
Frowning, he opened his mouth to speak, but Mandy beat him to it. "Honestly, Susan, Dark magic? How long have you spent in Care of Magical Creatures and you still actually think that snakes are the embodiment of evil?"
Susan flushed at Mandy's reprimand, dropping her chin shamefully. "It's just… it's Parseltongue."
"Yes. And?"
Patting her friend sympathetically on the shoulder, Hannah blinked widely at Mandy. "You know Parseltongue was used by You-Know-Who. That means –"
"Yes, and I'm sure You-Know-Who also used Lumos charms and mixed a simple Sleeping Draught in third year. Does that make them evil too?"
Harry stared wonderingly at the Ravenclaw girl. Mandy was a rather plain girl physically, if one took the time to consider her appearance, and though she studied with the dedication of every Ravenclaw she was only barely above average in terms of marks. Her natural pensiveness often caused her to be overlooked, even in such a small class. Harry was pleasantly surprised at the insight she showed, and surprised further at the note of defiance in her tone. When Voldemort was discussed, his name was more likely to be accompanied by terror and a distinctly sickly pallor.
Turning away from the abashed Hufflepuffs, Mandy drifted her gaze back to the hydra. It might have been a sixth sense, or simply glimpsing him from her periphery, but a moment later her eyes shifted to Harry. She stared at him blankly for a moment, then mouthed a curious 'what?'
Shaking his head, Harry shrugged. He offered her a smile, mouthed 'nothing' and turned his own attention back to the hydra. He thought he caught a startle from Mandy out of the corner of his eye, but didn't glance her way again to check. It probably was. People had been doing that a lot over the past few weeks since returning to school. Harry hadn't noticed it immediately, but since Draco had noted humorously that whenever he smiled at someone the object of his attention seemed to mentally short as though shocked into silence, he had been unable to over look every such instance anything.
Neville was flashing the pan deftly at the hydra, hissing in conversation to the exclusion of his classmates while Hagrid looked on in rapt attention. Harry didn't know what they were talking about; it didn't really matter. If Neville felt their exchange was important – or mildly interesting, for that matter – he would share it. With his efforts, however, the Gryffindor was able to encourage the hydra into a perfect posing position that enabled the class to produce quite detailed sketches. Harry finished the class with a rather impressive bundle of parchments and if the drawings weren't the work of an artist then at least there were enough for cross-examination.
Wandering back up to the Great Hall for lunch, predictably Neville chattered animatedly about his conversation with the hydra. He was so enthusiastic that he barely paused to load his plate when they both settled down at the Gryffindor table.
"But it's not like it was even that understandable, really. It felt almost like, I dunno," he paused, taking a bite of the sandwich and letting his gaze drift ponderingly. "It's hard to say, really, because its sort of like a different way of speaking entirely, but it felt a little like speaking to a little kid or something. You know?"
Nodding, Harry nibbled on a stick of carrot. "It's probably because it's only just hatched. Still young, yes?"
"Yeah, true."
"Or maybe it's just an animal thing? When I talk to Lyssy, it's sort of like that."
Neville paused mid chew, raising an eyebrow. He knew about Draco's Christmas gift – Draco made sure everyone knew of the gift, and how much Harry cherished it – but Harry rarely spoke of it himself. "What d'you mean?"
"When I talk to Lyssy, it's sort of like that not-quite-language. More like images than actual words. I don't know if with you…?" He trailed of questioningly to Neville.
The other boy shook his head. "No, not images so much. Sort of words, but a bit stilted or something."
Harry nodded his understanding. "Yeah, it's a bit like that. Or maybe, not so much stilted but all over the place. A bit like a stream of consciousness."
Neville frowned in confusion until Harry gave him an example, then nodded vigorously. "Yes! That's exactly it. It's just like that. Like it says basically anything that comes into its head."
"Who says everything that comes into their head?"
Harry and Neville turned in unison at the sound of Draco's voice. The tall, slender blonde wandered towards the Gryffindor table as though he owned the Great Hall, gliding with a fluid grace that draw to the eyes in a way that Harry often found himself guilty of. He wasn't the only one, too. Draco just seemed to demand attention, and it was hardly a deterrent that his perfect and immaculate features were easy on the eye.

He settling himself down in the seat next to Harry with the same grace he conducted everything. Pansy and Hermione, deep in discussion just behind him, followed suit. No one even gave the Slytherins a second glance at their choice of seating anymore.
"I can think of a couple of people," Neville grinned around a mouthful of sandwich, staring pointedly at Draco.
Draco snorted, reaching across the table to fill up his plate. "I carefully consider everything thought that comes into my head before speaking it, thank you.' He sniffed as though offended.
"The hydra hatched the other day," Harry explained, diverting the conversation before it could descend into the usual good-natured but still dangerous tennis match of insults. "It turns out it speaks Parseltongue, so Neville was able to talk to it."
Draco raised his eyebrows in mild interest. "Parseltongue? You don't say."
"Well, it is closely related to snakes," Neville pointed out, as though that fact hadn't been revealed to him only recently too. Harry tucked his chin to hide a grin.
The past few weeks had been a relaxing drift back into what Harry had come to recognise at the end of last term as normalcy. After the party two nights before school resumed, there had been the usual groans of students bemoaning the return to studies and the hasty cram to complete essays to be handed in over the first week.
Draco had seemed a little absentminded throughout the proceedings. He didn't tell Harry what had been bothering, though Harry had caught him staring at him a couple of times when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Harry suspected he might have known what it was due to; he dismissed the possibility that it had anything to do with the Vanishing Cabinet or the Room of Requirement as, from what he could remember of the that night, Draco had been almost comfortable with the prospect of confronting the hated object. There was something else, but… surely it was nothing that would trigger such a brooding response. Harry suspected his friend's attitude probably had at least a little to do with the Vow, and with his parent's departure, more than anything else. He hadn't seemed particularly melancholic, as he was prone to becoming in situations involving Voldemort, which was a relief. Contemplative was a more appropriate description. Harry saw that as a good thing, even if it did leave him hanging with curiosity.
They had both visited Narcissa and Lucius once more before the two elder Malfoys departed back to their manor on the first weekend back to school. It had been a subdued affair but no less heartfelt on part of the small family. Harry had felt a little awkward watching the exchange of stiff embraces, gentle pats on the shoulder and pointed staring into one another's eyes that seemed to speak a thousand words. He'd wondered if he should have excluded himself from the obviously intimate proceedings until Narcissa approached him.
Without ceremony, Narcissa had leant forward and wrapped Harry in an embrace. Harry had nearly frozen at the contact; no one had even been so forward in their contact except Draco and… certain members of his family. Narcissa had been breaching that barrier since he had met her, but even she hadn't gone so far.
He hardly had time to wonder if he was repulsed or comforted by the gesture, however, for a moment later Narcissa pulled away. Her hand still rested on his shoulder but compared to the embrace it was like a pebble beside a boulder. She had offered a small smile to Harry, fond if a little sad.
"Take care of yourself, Harry dear. I will be expecting you to write to me."
Harry could only nod, attempting a smile in return. Narcissa had cast a glance behind her towards her son, who spoke quietly to Lucius across the room. Her jaw tightened and she leaned in slightly, dropping her voice. "And please take care of my son. I fear that the coming term may be… hard."
Harry had never considered to do anything other than offer Draco support but the sincerity of Narcissa's request had pushed the thought to the forefront. Setting his shoulders, he nodded, smile firming. "Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. I won't ever let anything happen to him.'
Narcissa smiled, and Harry hoped it wasn't his imagination that there looked to be a little less sadness in the curl of her lips. "I would never have suspected you to offer anything less." Her smile quirked in amusement briefly. "And please remember to call me Narcissa, Harry."
She hadn't awaited a reply. After Lucius had given Harry his own short but sincere farewell and they had embraced Draco once more, the pair had departed in a crack of Apparation. Harry had drawn Draco quietly back to the castle after that, where they had closeted themselves in Featherwood's rooms for the rest of the afternoon. Draco hadn't cried, nor expressed any kind of overt emotion, but Harry suspected it had been a near thing. He almost wished the other boy had.
Whether it was the threat of Voldemort or the residual stress of making the Vow, however, Draco seemed to ease markedly over the next weeks. Without the added foreboding presence of the Vanishing Cabinet – the constant reminder no longer hung over his head and Harry thought that he achieved something akin to peacefulness – an ease that had been absent even when in France settled upon Draco. He still corresponded daily with his parents, and each letter left him with a tight expression and seeking seclusion from his housemates. Thankfully, the same did not seem to apply to Harry; rather, Featherwood's rooms became something of a sanctuary for the both of them. Draco never did end up going back to the dungeons to sleep. Harry was thankful for the oversight on part of the teachers; he was sure that they were aware of what was going on, but they never questioned it or demanded Draco leave.
What provided the ultimate source of distraction for the Malfoy heir, however, was the newly introduced 'extra course' of Apparation. Once a week and held in the Great Hall under the supervision of an expert teacher hired from the Department of Magical Education, the novelty of the situation left all sixth years on a bit of a high. Harry likened it a bit to the jubilation of Muggle teens upon confronting the prospect of driving for the first time.
That was, at least, until the actual first lesson. The novelty sort of wore off after the absolute and completely dismal failed attempt of every single sixth year student. Hermione had been mortified that she had been unable to shift an inch, while Blaise, Neville and Ron loudly expressed their unanimous belief that Apparation was actually a fallacy and that there was no such thing as being able to 'immediately transport oneself to an alternative location'. Draco didn't join in with them – it would have been far too incriminating to have professed as much in public – but had confessed him concerns to Harry later in privacy.
"I have to admit, I was sort of excited to Apparate myself. I guess that's not going to happen any time soon." He sighed, flopping down upon the length of the couch in Featherwood's rooms dramatically. "And I had hoped to get it in hand before my birthday so I could get my license straight away."
Harry plopped himself down on the end of the couch, nudging Draco's feet aside to make room. "It was only the first lesson, Draco, and your birthday isn't for nearly six months. There'll be so many more chances before your birthday –"
"No, it's hopeless. It's never going to happen."
Harry could only smile and shake his head at his friend's woebegone expression. What was it with wizards and assuming they had to grasp everything the first time? Harry didn't expect he would be able to manage any time soon. He was still attempting to wrap his head around the possibility of what he deemed to be essentially the same as Muggle science fiction teleportation. Draco always stared blankly at him when he used the term, so he generally kept his miscomprehension to himself.
"I've decided. I'm going to get it today." Draco's voice was so full of confidence that Harry nearly expected him to Apparate in that instant. Raising his eyes from his lunch, he chewed determinedly on another stick of carrot to bite back a grin.
"Oh, have you worked out how to do it?" Neville asked. He sounded genuinely curious though more than a little skeptical.
Draco shrugged, which was as good as shaking his head. "We'll have to wait and see, Neville. Never fear, it won't be more than an hour from now."
"You have no bloody idea," Neville grumbled, rolling his eyes. Draco pointedly ignored him.
"Where's Blaise?" Pansy broke in, leaning into Draco. He hair nearly fell into her plate as she glanced the length of Gryffindor table, as though Blaise would possibly be sitting amongst the first years.
"And Ron," Hermione added, similarly glancing the length of the table.
"Ron said he was going to have a sleep before lunch." Neville bit into a sausage before pointing the remaining half towards Pansy. "And Blaise was last seen tagging around with Greengrass. Heading to the dungeons, I think. I don't know what they were up to, but –"
He didn't get to finish before Pansy was on her feet and storming out of the Great Hall with startling speed. She somehow made it look both furious and elegant, her robes flaring with a snap before she disappeared through the doors. Neville stared at her open-mouthed, completely oblivious to the scolding glare Hermione directed towards him.
Draco chuckled under his breath and shared a glance with Harry. "Guess we were right." Harry smiled back at him.
"About what?"
"Oh, don't trouble your little head, Neville. Leave it to those wiser than yourself." Neville stared at him blandly but seemed more concerned with eating his lunch than Draco's cryptic words.
When lunch was finished, they filed out into the Entrance Hall to mill around aimlessly while the Great Hall was prepared for their Apparation lesson. Pansy appeared shortly after with a chastised Blaise in tow, and Ron wandered down the stairs just before one o'clock, yawning and nearly tripping the final step.
As Professor McGonagall swung the wide doors inwards, the sixth year cohort drifted back into the modified Great Hall once more. Hermione darted to the front of the room as usual, Ron and Neville following less eagerly in her wake. Pansy planted Blaise firmly beside her like a mother with her disobedient child, and Draco fell into place beside her, gesturing for Harry to join him.
The same stout, smiling wizard, Wilkie Twycross, who had directed them both times previously clapped his hands for attention when each student had settled with their usual placement before the Apparation hoops. They looked like nothing if not simple hoola-hoops to Harry, but Twycross had professed that they had magical properties of some sort.
"Alright. Quiet please, quiet." He held up both hands, head tilting slightly as though straining to hear the silence he sought. The buzz of chatter gradually died. "Now, same again, same again. Lets see if we can manage at least one Apparation today, hmm?" That condescending cock of the man's head made him seem as though he were speaking to students ten years younger and Harry wasn't surprised to hear Draco grumbling beside him. "Right, now what is it that we remember?"
"Destination… determination… deler...ber…"
It wasn't the most exuberant recitation they could have given. Deliberation managed to get mangled at the end, but apparently Twycross was used to the enthusiasm of the teenagers for he simply nodded in acceptance and clapped his hands again. "Right. Destination, determination, deliberation."
Well, maybe he isn't quite so forgiving as he seems, Harry thought, shaking his head. There was a slight hardness to Twycross's final word, as though he felt he could pierce his students with it to force them to remember.
The lesson didn't really go much better than usual. For a good hour, no one budged an inch. That was until someone – Harry thought it might have been Susan from Care of Magical Creatures – splinched herself, a rather horrifying sequence of events that seemed to have detached her body from her left leg and teleported it across the room. Harry felt a little queasy at the sight of the limb that crumpled to the ground. At least there wasn't any blood, and Professor McGonagall shunted her off to the hospital wing in short order.
The most exciting moment, however, was when Draco made good his claim. Harry had almost forgotten his announcement at lunch until, after Susan's experience, Draco had frowned and turned towards Harry.
"Well, I suppose that settles it."
"What?"
Draco gestured to the now-empty hoop Susan had ended up in. He didn't seem daunted or even particularly discomforted by seeing the girl spit neatly into two separate pieces. "At least we've seen it done now. I was beginning to suspect that the teachers hadn't dropped the Anti-Apparation wards on the castle. But now…" He trailed off.
Not ten minutes later, Draco Apparated. There was a riot of enthusiastic congratulations from the Slytherins and more muted from the other houses – except Hermione, Neville and Ron who cheered nearly as excitedly as the Slytherins – and Draco, after a brief and well-concealed wobbliness, seemed to glow with smugness. In fact, he proceeded to Apparate into the next hoop that Twycross directed him towards with only a slight pause.
"How did you do that?" Pansy demanded, planting herself before Draco with hands folding across her chest when he finally sauntered back to his position beside Harry. And if he moved with slightly more measured steps than normal, Harry doubted anyone noticed.
Draco shrugged, rolling his shoulders as though winding down from physical exertion. Harry snorted a quiet chuckle, drawing a grin from his friend. "What can I say, some people just have the talent."
"That's not very generous of you, Draco," Blaise droned. He sounded like he hardly cared but was instead simply satisfied with the fact that Pansy had shifted her reprimanding gaze from him. Draco shrugged again but remained tight-lipped.
Not for particularly long, however. Harry should have guessed his friend wouldn't be able to suppress his self-satisfaction long enough to keep quiet. Within minutes he was attempting to explain to Harry his own methods.
"I more imagined myself in the process of travelling, rather than directly at the destination. I think Twycross would have a heart attack if I told him I rejected his three D's." He smiled wistfully at the thought.
Harry frowned, considering. "That actually makes a bit more sense. I think I was having a bit of trouble with the whole 'instantaneous' part of it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… I don't really think it's possible to actually transport something – or someone – instantaneously. I guess you could see it as just moving an object really fast. There has to be some allowance for the movement of matter through space, otherwise –'
'What? Matter? What does matter have to do with anything?'
'Matter. I mean the sort of particles matter." Harry frowned thoughtfully, barely noticing Draco's questioning gaze. "If it's more like a very rapid movement rather than disappearance and reappearance, it's only natural to think that… No, nevermind. I think I understand it a little better." Harry smiled gratefully at Draco, who had adopted the same expression he always did when Harry spoke of anything even vaguely related to Muggle science – curiosity mixed with bafflement and a touch of frustration. It was a little sad, really. Draco seemed to absorb anything Harry offered of science, even the most basic theory, that wizards in general seemed to deem unimportant or irrelevant to the magical world. Maybe we should talk about it a little bit more later. He'd probably enjoy himself.
For whatever reason, whether it was Draco's explanation or Harry's own alternative understanding, he was able to Apparate on his next attempt. It was one of the most uncomfortable experiences with magic Harry had ever undergone. The claustrophobia, however brief, of squeezing through what Harry could only assume was a sort of tunnel through space, accompanied by the crushing breathlessness was unnerving enough to prevent him from eagerly attempting another Apparation.
Draco beamed at him, accepting Harry's public display of gratitude as his due, though seemed to understand entirely too well why Harry wasn't keen for a repeat performance. Pansy shifted her scolding to envelope Harry too and Hermione looked on longingly from across the hall before forsaking her position at the front of the room in an attempt to add her own drilling of questions to the mix. She did so with far less heat than Pansy, though that in itself wasn't a particularly significant; anyone would be less intense than Pansy.
It didn't last long, however. Like a dam that had cracked with Draco's first leap, a gradually increasing trickle of students began to take stumbling steps through simple jumps. Twycross was ecstatic, preaching of the 'breakthrough at last!' and assuring all of the students of their near future in extending their skills to Apparating to coordinates or even pictographic images. Harry wasn't entirely sure how that worked; it was one thing to Apparate to a sight one could see, even to move to a place visited before, but to propel oneself to a site never seen before based on coordinates? On a picture? It seemed a little far-fetched even for the Wizarding world, but he didn't object. Harry knew exactly what the explanation for such a possibility was and he'd grown rather exasperated with the single-word answer for everything.
Towards the end of the session – after which Hermione had finally managed her first Apparation alongside nearly a half a dozen other classmates. – Draco was unexpectedly called to the back of the room by the sudden appearance of Professor Snape. Draco actually looked thankful for the interruption of Pansy's fuming, and had nearly run in his haste to escape her bubbling temper.
"Wonder what he wants," Neville muttered, scowling towards the Defense professor as the hook-nosed man exchanged quiet words with Draco. There was no love lost between the Gryffindor and the Head of Slytherin, and though Harry didn't know exactly where it came from he could accept it accordingly. Snape obviously didn't like Neville, so it was natural that the feeling would be mutual.
Besides, Harry was more focused on Draco as the boy's face blanked then paled marginally, his jaw clenching alongside his fists. They conversed for a moment later before Snape urged Draco from the room. Draco paused, hesitant, as though reluctant to go where Snape had directed, until he finally strode from the Great Hall, the bat-like Defense professor following closely behind.
I wonder what that was about. Something to do with the Vow of Mutualism? With Voldemort and the Death Eaters? Harry frowned, gnawing his lip in worry. Dumbledore had said he would protect Draco. Surely that didn't entail some sort of mission on the Slytherin boy's part? Harry felt his gut clench uncomfortably alongside that flicker of warm anger that only ever seemed to arise when Draco was being pushed into doing something irrational. He managed to quell the emotion with difficulty.
Yet even when Harry accompanied Pansy and Blaise into a single period of potions that afternoon, Draco had not returned. Professor Slughorn didn't comment, simply pronouncing excitedly about the class's progression into Compound Potions that they would begin that week. Harry wasn't overly fond of the man – he was a bit too flighty, not to mention fond of patting students enthusiastically on the shoulder, for him to be entirely comfortable in the dimly lit rooms – and the complete lack of care at Draco's absence only irked him further.
He's probably been informed of his absence already, Harry attempted to rationalize, but even that thought niggled at him persistently. If the teachers knew something, could he maybe ask?
Halfway through the class, as Professor Slughorn was just directing the blackboard duster to wipe the last of the theory from the board, the door opened and Professor Snape announced without ceremony that he required Pansy and Blaise momentarily. Slughorn smiled his blissfully ignorant smile and waved the two Slytherins from the room. Harry stared blankly at the door after they had left, the clenching in his stomach tightening almost painfully. Something is wrong. Something with Draco. I know it, but I just don't know what. It was so frustrating.
He didn't have long to work himself into a fit, however, for the door had barely been closed for a minute before it swung inwards once more. Slughorn, paused in the process of settling himself into his chair and sighed tiredly.
"Yes, Professor Snape? Is there something more I can help you with? Anymore students you wish to steal?"
Though Slughorn smiled as though it was a long-standing joke, the Defense professor only stared back flatly. He was silent for just long enough to elicit an uncertain squirm from his fellow teacher before speaking.
"I require Mr. Potter's assistance, Professor. If you would be so kind."
Harry didn't need telling twice. He barely saw Slughorn nod and scan the room for Harry, as though even after nearly half a year he didn't recognise his students quite as accurately as was probably deemed appropriate. Harry left his books and bag at the table and nearly ran to the door, slipping past Snape who propped open the door like a silent usher and closed it with unnecessary force right on Harry's heels.
Before Harry got the chance to even open his mouth, Snape was speaking. "Potter, Miss Parkinson and Mr. Zabini have informed me that you could provide adequate assistance for Mr. Malfoy. You will accompany me." And just like that, with no further explanation, the man turned on his heel and swept down the corridor, robes billowing impressively behind him like a pair of wings.
Picking up his own heels and nearly jogging alongside Blaise and Pansy to keep up, Harry frowned questioningly at his friends. "What's wrong? What's going on?"
Pansy looked slightly pale and swallowed nervously. "Snape wouldn't tell us. Only that Draco needed to see his friends because he had gotten some bad news."
"Only, it didn't sound like bad news"' Blaise was nearly as pale as Pansy, an admirable feat given his darker complexion. "Sounded like, I don't know, the Minister for Magic had been shot or something horrendous like that."
"What does he need us for?"
Pansy shrugged awkwardly as she half-trotted to keep up with Snape. "I'm not sure exactly, but when he said Draco needed help with something I told him that you were probably the closest to him and would likely be able to help with any problems he had as much as anyone else." She paused, face wrinkling worriedly. "Was I wrong?"
Harry clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "No, I'm glad. Thanks, Pansy." Why did Snape have to be so mysterious? Wouldn't it have just been easier to tell them? But then the image of Snape's face flickered into his head and he noted the hard lines of tension and tightening of eyes that he had barely registered before. Was Snape… worried?
Never having been to the Head of Slytherin's office, Harry only realised when he nearly ran into the professor's back that they had arrived. Snape paused for a moment before the dark closed door, seemed to steel himself, and pushed it open and stepped inside. Harry and his friends exchanged apprehensive glances before following.
It turned out that it wasn't even Snape's office they had been led to but rather his private rooms. Harry noted distractedly that they were nearly identical to Featherwood's in terms of structure, if not in decoration. Three rooms, though two had closed doors that likely to the bedroom and bathroom, and yet pervading through it all was a very definite 'Snape' atmosphere. Whether it was the darkness of the rooms, of the decorations – solely in black, silver and green – or the assortment of tomes, potions ingredients scattered across the table before the couches, or the cauldron that stood empty over an artificial fire flickering green, the entire room seemed to embody the Defense professor. Harry thought detachedly that it was interesting that the emphasis still rested upon potions; Draco had told him that Snape had been the potions professor until that year when he had taken on the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor instead, but it was still surprising that he embraced the subject that was not his primary focus anymore.
Stepping further into the room and past the Professor, who seemed to be attempting to camouflage into the wall of the sitting room, Harry noticed Draco for the first time. His breath caught and he struggled to swallow past a sudden dryness in his mouth. Draco looked terrible.
If anyone else had seen him, Harry supposed it may have easily been overlooked as tiredness. Or perhaps a mild sorrow. He was pale, and his eyes seemed faintly sunken. He stared blankly into the flickering flames of the fire crackling with ignorant bliss before him, as though he were watching a Muggle television.
Yet to Harry, who had become so used to reading his friend's every expression, he looked on the verge of falling apart. There was rigidity to his face that looked on the verge of spasming for its tightness. His lips had thinned minutely, taken on a shade that wasn't immediately apparent in the darkness of the room but upon closer study looked nearly bloodless. Lines were faintly visible on his forehead and the blankness that glassed his eyes disappeared periodically to reveal something bordering on panic.
Without realizing it, Harry started forwards and nearly fell to his knees beside his Draco. Staring up into his face, he sought to meet his friend's eyes, fingers fumbling to grasp hands that were clenched so tightly Harry wondered how he hadn't broken his knuckles.
"Draco? Draco, can you hear me?"
Draco didn't respond. Harry didn't think he even heard him. Panic building within him, Harry glanced towards Snape over his shoulder. Pansy and Blaise were frozen beside the man, worry writ across their faces, but Harry barely noticed. "What happened?"
Snape closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening, before he spoke. "There was an… incident. With the Dark Lord. Something of a tragedy." Pansy uttered a squeak and Blaise looked like he was going to be sick.
"You sent him –?!"
"No, foolish boy, Draco was not sent anywhere." Snape's lip curled, but Harry didn't feel the slightest urge to cringe like he usually did. His entire focus was upon Draco, the clenched fists cradled in his hands, and the man who struggled with an explanation.
"Then what –?"
"It was not him that was injured."
The words seemed to ring in an echo through the room. In that instant, though his expression barely changed, Harry got the impression that Snape was fighting back an overwhelming wave of sorrow and regret.
Oh no… Oh, please no…
Easing himself closer to Draco, he raised his hands onto either side of his friend's head. Tilting his chin, Harry ran a thumb over his smooth jaw, the angular bones of his cheeks. They felt oddly cold.
"Draco?" Still no reply, but for a moment Draco's eyes flickered towards him. The blankness dropped slightly and the pain that took its place was horrifying. Harry couldn't speak.
Not that it mattered. Draco seemed to be clawing his way towards resurfacing from whatever sea of turmoil had sucked him beneath its roiling waves. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not; Draco's pale jaw trembled slightly, his eyes tightening and the lines on his brow deepening. Harry felt more than saw tight fingers grasp his wrists like a lifeline. He didn't break his gaze from Draco's for an instant.
"Harry…"
Harry was only faintly aware of Snape, Blaise and Pansy disappearing from the room. He couldn't bring himself to turn from Draco; his friend seemed posed on the brink of speaking, lips trembling almost violently. He stroked his thumbs slowly, softly, over his cheekbones.
Please no, don't let it be… Anything but that, please…
"Harry, my father… Father, he's dead, Harry. And Mother…"
Draco shattered. It was all Harry could do to catch and cradle the fallen pieces.

A/N:
Jen: Oh, right, sorry :p The 'glitch' was just sort of referring to their uneasiness around one another when they were dancing around the 'not sure if they're still friends'. Hermione and Draco had a bit of a moment like that when they were boarding the train for the Christmas holidays.
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The Masks of Real Heroes