Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Masks of Real Heroes	By : Aelys_Althea Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17644 -:- 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
- 24
- 25
- 26
A/N: Thank you so much to those who have taken the time to comment. It's really, really appreciated. Wonderful to hear from you! If you have a moment, I'd love to hear from any and everyone; comments, questions or suggestions :)

Chapter 24: Fear For A Friend
"I am going to tie you down to the bed and never let you up again, Neville Longbottom."
Harry shared a glance with Neville as his friend ducked to escape the piercing ferocity of Ginny Weasley's glare. For all his rolling eyes, there was a hint of uneasiness in his expression that suggested he didn't entirely believe the girl to be blowing hot air.
Ginny had planted herself at the side of Neville's hospital bed as soon as they had entered the wing, positioned between him and the door as though she thought her boyfriend might make an attempt to flee. Harry thought it unlikely. Given the state of him, he doubted Neville would be moving at all for at least… the next half an hour. Until Madam Pomfrey fixed him up.
Medical Magic was fantastic like that.
Ringing Neville's bed, Harry, Draco, Blaise and Pansy stood to one side while Ron, Hermione and Ginny were stationed on the other. Neville was shrunken upon himself somewhat at being the center of all the attention, but the sheepish grin he offered made it more of a comical than a nervous response. A strange impression to present when he seemed to have been attacked by a stovetop.
For burns covered his arms up to his sleeves in streaking scorches. Similar streaks marred his face, one down the left cheekbone and another nearly perpendicular across his other cheek. A rusty stain that was most likely blood discoloured the collar of his shirt, and that wasn't the only stain. He looked dirty, and haggard, and exhausted. Although, he also looked quite pleased with himself, truth be told.
"How did it go? Did you get it?" Ron, pointedly ignoring the glare Ginny directed towards him, planted his hands onto Neville's bed in a display of eager curiosity.
Neville's smile broadened significantly at the question, flashing slightly crooked teeth. Casting a quick glance around the otherwise empty hospital wing, he leant forwards conspiratorially. As one, all surrounding him leant in closer. "We got one! Dumbledore's incredible. I don't know how he's finding them, but it was definitely another one."
"It was really hidden in a vault at Gringotts?" Hermione wondered aloud, seemingly incredulous at the thought. Harry didn't really understand why – the Wizarding bank seemed an appropriate place to stash a sacred artifact, evil or not, given the degree of security it boasted – but didn't comment.
Nodding vigorously, Neville folded his arms across his chest. "I don't know whose vault it was, but it was pretty well guarded. Rather impressive, I might add."
"How do you mean?" Pansy asked, frowning and tilting her head questioningly. "The Parkinson vaults have some of the highest security money can buy, but it's hardly anything to gawk at."
"Well, I don't know what you've got, but a dragon seems pretty impressive to me."
Gasps whispered from every onlooker. Harry felt his own interest spark beyond even the wonder of a dragon guard; since partaking in Care of Magical Creatures classes, he had done substantial reading dragons themselves. More so because of their relation to hydras; the water beasts were something of a cross between sea serpents and dragons.
Ron's eyes shone with excitement. "A dragon. Guarding a vault at Gringotts.' His voice was filled with awe. "Bloody hell. You could have picked it had something special to guard."
"What, so the dragon did this to you?" Ginny drew Neville's attention once more, eyebrow raised. "You fought a bloody dragon? Are you out of you mind, Neville? Was fourth year not an intimate enough experience for you? Did you feel the need to take another go at it?"
Harry actually understood the reference this time. He'd made good his promise to himself in the last week and actually asked Neville to prevail upon him the tales of his past adventures. They seemed unbelievable to say the least, and Harry would have suspected they were as much had Hermione not been there to back up every word. Ron's insistence didn't hold quite as much reliability as the Gryffindor girl's.
"Gin, it's not like I actually deliberately went and fought the dragon. I'm just saying it was there. Dumbledore cast some spell on it anyway, so it wasn't about to attack us." He smiled weakly, as though unsure if she would believe his words and pleading for her to do so. "Besides, if anything I'd expect the goblins to be the ones to attack us. They didn't seem too happy about us breaking into the vault. I think it was only because it was Dumbledore and his goblin friend that we made it out in one piece."
"If not from the dragon, then how did you get so badly burned then?" Draco, in a remarkably blunt manner, speared the heart of the matter and pinned Neville with his own question. He seemed nothing if not the simple information gatherer for the flatness of his words, but the fingers that gripped Harry's squeezed unusually tight. Harry hid his smile and gently squeezed back. A reassurance, it was; Draco was actually worried about Neville, and if the strength of his grip was any indication, he wasn't embarrassed that Harry knew it. It left Harry with a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.
"Oh, that?" Neville waved a hand, as though disregarding it as a mere trifling. "In the vault there was other security. Spells of some kind. One of them made everything you touched multiply. The other one turned it all bloody hot." He ran his hands over a burn on his arm. "Hence the burns."
"Flagrante?"
"Excuse me?" Neville turned bemusedly towards Hermione.
The girl sighed long-sufferingly. "The spell. The one that burned you. I'm assuming it was Flagrante, a Burning Charm. Coupled with a Multiplying Charm, I can see why you got as seared as charred meat. Especially if you had to pick you way through it all looking for an unknown artifact."
"Wonderful image there, Hermione. I always love being likened to a dinner dish." Hermione only rolled her eyes in response to Neville's words. There was relief in her expression though that suggested she wasn't really as put out by the comment as she pretended. Neville obviously realized as much for he gave her a fond half-smile. "It's not like we didn't know what we were looking for, though. Dumbledore suspected it was Helga Hufflepuff's cup."
"Hufflepuff's cup? Why would You-Know-Who put a Horcrux in Hufflepuff's cup?" Blaise sounded genuinely baffled by the prospect. Draco and Pansy nodded in unison, agreeing with the sentiment. Harry suspected the skepticism was probably a Slytherin thing, but the reasoning soared right over his head.
Neville shrugged, wincing slightly as he pulled one of his burns the wrong way. "Dunno. We think – or Dumbledore thinks, anyway – that he might just be targeting powerful magical objects. I mean, Slytherin's ring, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem. It makes sense."
Harry nodded in time with his friends. Neville had discussed his and Dumbledore's theories more thoroughly in the weeks since he had rather forcefully insisted that they all, Slytherin's included, come into the 'know'. The proper explanation of how he'd found Ravenclaw's diadem had left them all blinking incredulously. That he felt drawn to the object? It was just a little bit creepy, in Harry's opinion.
Ginny sighed heavily, her anger seeming to deflate. With the heat gone, she looked nothing if not an average teenage girl, fretting over the foolishness of her boyfriend. She slumped heavily onto the side of Neville's bed, hands hovering for a moment over one scorched arm, before slipping her fingers into his. "Thank Merlin you're safe."
Smiling in relief – perhaps at avoiding another reprimand – Neville patted Ginny's hand fondly. "I'm alright. Really. How could anything go wrong when I'm with Dumbledore?" Ginny only nodded in reply, eyes fixed firmly on their joined hands. She looked on the verge of tears in the absence of anger.
It was at that moment that Madam Pomfrey decided to descend upon them in a flurry of motion. "Alright, that's enough from you all. Mr. Longbottom has had enough excitement for one day; I think it's about time you left him to some peace."
Fingers fiddling in the pockets of her mediwitch robes, Pomfrey pulled out a trio of vials of varying shapes and colours. She set them firmly at Neville's bedside. Neville released a groan. "Miss, do I have to have to –"
"I'll be hearing none of that, Mr. Longbottom. You'll drink them all, or you won't be seeing the outside of this hospital until you're old and grey." With a wave of her hand, Pomfrey shooed the rest of them from the room. None complained, nearly fleeing from her command like scattered pigeons. As Harry glanced once more towards Neville over his shoulder before leaving, he was surprised to see Ginny still propped on the side of the bed. Pomfrey didn't object, however, moving around the girl as though she wasn't even there.
Which was rather unexpected. Perhaps the woman did have more compassion than her severe exterior suggested. One could hardly mistake the look of worry playing across Ginny's face for anything else
The double doors to the Hospital Wing closed behind them all with a hollow click.
"Well, I'm so glad we got up at the crack of dawn for a five minute conversation," Blaise grumbled, his face a mask of self-pity. Ron patted his shoulder consolingly.
"Honestly, Blaise, it's not that early. And besides," Pansy looped her arm through his as she spoke. "It means you have more time to spend with me." The smile she gave him was too bright and innocent to be genuinely sweet as she tugged him down the corridor. Ron and Hermione fell in just behind, with Harry and Draco following silently in their wake.
Hermione sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across her forehead. "I'm glad he's alright. I could have had a heart attack last night when McGonagall told us he was up in the Hospital Wing."
"I still think we should have paid him a visit, even after what McGonagall said," Ron maintained, but Hermione waved off the suggestion.
"How exactly would the two of us been able to sneak out of the dorms at such an hour? And before you pull the prefect card, Ginny would have spit fire had she been left behind."
"And don't forget us," Blaise chimed in, glancing over his shoulder towards the Gryffindors pointedly. "I would never forgive you if you didn't drop by to invite us too."
"Like you would have actually gotten back out of bed at midnight to make a trip through the halls, Blaise." Draco drawled. He rolled his eyes at the grin Blaise flashed him. "Besides, you would have had to have dropped by Harry's rooms to pick us up too, because some of us don't have a means of distant communication in this castle. And speaking of," he frowned at the back of Pansy's head. "When did this little two-way journal enterprise even begin?"
Harry had been wondering the same since Pansy had filled them in of Hermione's information earlier that morning. The journals acted something like an instant messenger; a word written in one would transfer immediately to the corresponding journal. A rather ingenious invention, he thought. Almost like a telephone. He glanced curiously towards Hermione and noted the slight smugness of her expression that was all too familiar.
"We set it up a few weeks before the end of last term with the intention of sharing study notes over the Christmas break. Though is saying so," Hermione fastened her eyes meaningfully on the back of Pansy's head too. The Slytherin girl deliberately ignored both trained gazes. 'Some of us didn't bother to use it for studies at all.'
"My holiday preoccupations are of little relevance at the present situation, Hermione. I believe we have matters of greater importance to discuss."
"Like the Horcruxes?"
Hermione shushed Ron wildly at his words and he had the grace to look abashed. In a stage whisper, she muttered, "not in the open, Ron, for goodness sake. These things are better left for when we are in privacy."
"Right, right." Ron scratched the side of his head and gave a not-at-all subtle glance around him for possible eavesdroppers. "Sorry."
Not that there would have been anybody around to hear. On a Saturday morning, no one much awoke before seven o'clock and those that did didn't leave the dormitories before eight at the earliest. Even with spring on its way, the hallways retained a chill that hastened footsteps and elicited shivers from underdressed students.
It should just be about seven o'clock by now, Harry considered. Breakfast would be up and ready by the first resounding chime of the clock tower. And as they walked, just as the thought occurred to him, the distant gong sounded throughout the hallways in faint yet audible chimes.
"Ah! Breakfast!" Ron exclaimed, sounding positively delighted at the prospect of a meal he partook daily.
"And you know, the earlier you get there the choicer portions you receive," Blaise informed him with a mischievous wriggle of his eyebrows. He grunted a moment later when Pansy elbowed him without a sideways glance.
"What? How come I never knew about this?" Ron turned to Hermione. "Why do we never come down earlier? It took me six years to realise I've been missing out!"
Sighing like a long-suffering mother, Hermione shook her head. "That's because you've never intentionally awoken before eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning, Ronald. Even during exam period- "
"Especially during exam period. How else am I going to procrastinate?"
"Ron," Hermione chided, but she chuckled along with the rest of them.
"Why you even need to try for the 'choicer portions' is beyond me, Blaise," Draco muttered. "You have menu order, don't you?"
Blaise turned and shook his finger at Draco over his shoulder. "If I used it willy-nilly then everyone would know the secret."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Harry murmured, wondering aloud.
'Of course! Wait time is a priority, and entirely absent when you're the only one dining at the restaurant. As it is now I've basically got the kitchen staff to myself.'
Harry could have anticipated Hermione's response, but apparently Blaise didn't, for he looked surprised when she strode to his side and began a long-winded admonishment about the both the witting and unwitting abuse of house elves. Although, at least she seemed to acknowledge that Blaise was half in the latter category.
The Great Hall was indeed empty when they entered, but as expected the four tables presented a spread of steaming trays, bowls, racks of toast, and gleaming cutlery. Without comment or correspondence, the small group moved towards the Slytherin's table and settled themselves onto the pew-like benches, chatting in a mixture of house-elf-rights debate, condolences to Neville, and speculations of how to spend the rest of the day.
"It's getting warmer, but I still don't want to go outside. It was drizzling this morning and looks like it will only get worse. We could head to the library," Hermione considered aloud, only to be cut off by Pansy.
"Hermione, my dear, I appreciate your enthusiasm for studies – really I do – and will strive to abuse that wonderful intellect of yours to its fullest, but please let us do something else."
"I'm in agreement with Pansy," Ron uttered around a mouthful of toast. Despite the concurrence, Pansy looked less than thrilled with his words. Or maybe that was the half-chewed bread that fall from his mouth in accompaniment.
"We could just go to the prefect's rooms. Lets face it, they're intended for four out of the six of us," Draco suggested, sipping at a cup of tea with polished decorum that Harry thought almost comically out of place in the casual setting of the dining area.
"Oh, that sounds like a good idea. But Draco, I've been meaning to ask you about something…"
Harry idly nibbled on his own piece of toast, the words of his friends wafting around him like the aroma of the morning bacon. It was remarkably peaceful and mellow, especially given that they had only just been confronted with Neville's hospitalized status. Perhaps it was the simple fact of seeing him awake, alive and well, that had eased the tension that had gripped each of them since learning of his injuries. For Harry, the nausea that had welled in his gut from the moment Pansy had knocked on his door not an hour ago had certainly quelled.
According to Hermione and Ron, Neville had returned the night before. Exhausted and in not a little bit of pain, he had gone straight to the Hospital Wing and to sleep foregoing even Pomfrey's attempts to administer the Burn-Healing salves. McGonagall had alerted the Gryffindor's to their friend's return, but given the lateness of the hour had forbidden them from visiting until the next day.
Hermione had, naturally, journal-messaged Pansy, who had told Blaise, who had, after a brief meeting to discuss their own helplessness, had proceeded to insist they sleep. No one could blame him for his suggestion, for they had all done the same with varying degrees of success. Neville had left on another mission with Dumbledore earlier that evening and still hadn't returned hours later. Confined by curfew – in place despite the prefect badges of more than half their number – they had divided and trailed worriedly to their respective dormitories. Harry and Draco had similarly been in a state of concern; Harry doubted he'd gotten more than an hours sleep the previous night.
Not that it really mattered. Not now that Neville was back and safe. He would have to talk to Hermione about perhaps getting a journal of sorts worked out between them, though. It wasn't the first time communication had been on the side of lacking.
Hermione, in all of her morning glory, had insisted upon seeing to Neville as early as possible the next day. Pansy had reasoned that Pomfrey would be unlikely to admit visitors before seven o'clock. So naturally, they had arrived at the door at six-thirty. And proceeded to wait nearly half an hour for Pomfrey to grudgingly allow them into the walls of her domain. Ginny had been an angry, panicking wreck by the time she stepped through the doors. Perhaps that was why Pomfrey had allowed her to stay.
Contemplating, Harry realised not for the first time just how odd it was that he was a part of such a party. He hadn't lied to Draco in their discussion a week past when he'd said he wasn't good with people; in his entire memory, he couldn't recall ever having a real friend. There had been class working partners, as well as a few other outsiders who sometimes simply sat with one another, but they could hardly be classed as friends. And for Harry to have found some in such a diverse and welcoming group… he had no trouble in believing that magic was involved.
The talk with Draco over a week ago had been enlightening on a number of counts, and not simply for the revelation of his accidental magic. Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about that, but Draco had insisted upon numerous instances that his friends were his friends because they wanted to be, not because he forced it upon them. And Harry was starting, just starting, to think that Draco could possibly be right. Maybe.
Of course, that wasn't the only revelation. Draco's own admittance of his feelings had been astounding to say the least. Harry wasn't stupid; he'd never been the subject of another's affections at all, far be it from the sort Draco had suggested, but he had seen hints to suggest that maybe Draco liked him at least a little more than when they had first become friends. A little more and in a little different way.
It had no small part to do with Draco's kiss, which was in actuality the catalyst for his realization. It should not have been anything exceptional, truly. Harry wasn't unfamiliar with kisses, much to his deliberate forgetfulness. Except that this one came from Draco and it had been entirely different. But then Draco had said nothing and after a brief spell in which Harry had worried his friend would withdraw from him, had worried further over the brief spout of uncharacteristic agitation that could have really been over something else entirely, he had overlooked it. Pondering the aftermath, Harry quickly considered that the agitation was indeed likely due to another cause entirely.
Perhaps Draco just didn't see that much in a kiss?
The jealousy was another thing. It had taken a little while for Harry to realise the reality of what it was, for Draco's jealousy was on an entirely different spectrum to the possessiveness his uncle showed. Even so, Harry was almost certain that, for whatever reason, it had been jealousy. He was a little ashamed to realise he felt guilty pleasure at the understanding. A delight that was even more baffling because of his worry over what exactly the kiss had meant for Draco, and why he had neglected to bring it up since.
So Harry had found himself hanging somewhere on cloud nine when Draco had confessed that he loved him. At first, he hadn't believed it, had considered it a passing fancy and as changeable as the moon. He could accept that. He would accept anything from his friends, even if amicability turned to dislike. Because they were his friends, his first friends, and he loved them enough that what they had already given him was… it was enough.
That was until the depth of Draco's feelings were truly enforced upon him. It was breathtaking to behold, that simple, short confession of affection – no, of profound love – that had started so haltingly and then flowed so effortlessly. Genuinely. The light in Draco's eyes was beautiful, the slightly nervous tilt to his eyebrows tender and the tension in his fine features filled with wary hope.
Had Harry not already been aware of his feelings, he would have tumbled into infatuation in that moment simply because it was that moment. As it was, Harry was not naïve enough to be unaware of his own feelings. He knew he cared for Draco, cared for him more than anyone else in the world. He supposed he'd known for a while, but talking with Sirius had simply made that knowledge consciously realized. And in the face of Draco's own profession of love, his hesitant, desperate kiss, Harry could hardly keep his own upwelling of feelings in check.
So he'd kissed Draco back.
It had been perfect. And Harry had been telling the truth, at least in regard to Draco's fears. Draco was so different to his uncle that the two experiences were nigh incomparable. Yes, the dark shadow of memory did flicker on the edges of his consciousness, but the simple feel of Draco, of his lips, of his fine hair as Harry brought a hand up to touch it hesitantly, the warmth of his skin; how could he possible even consider what had been with his uncle to be even on the same plane of existence?
It was almost like the fight had never happened. Or, it had happened, but their bond had only grown stronger, firmer, for the experience. Not that they had ever been particularly distant with one another, either physically or emotionally. Harry had spent the majority of the term holding Draco's hand, after all. He couldn't help himself; it was comforting, steadfast like a lifeline. They'd received some questioning glances for it at first but generally there had been little to no comment.
Harry had wondered whether they should tell their friends about the most recent development in their relationship. Draco had simply shrugged, waving it off as inconsequential.
"If they find out, they find out. Does it really matter? It's not about them, anyway."
He was right, of course. And Harry shouldn't really care. Only, he knew that relationships between two men were often disapproved of – even actively discriminated against – by many. Or at least they were in the Muggle world. He wasn't so sure about the human world. Harry himself was ambivalent on the subject; his own experiences had left him somewhat… at odds on the subject, his perspective skewed. How could he predict how others would respond?
He needn't have worried. When they'd seated themselves down with their friends the next morning, Pansy had taken one look at them and declared, "oh, finally!" She and Blaise had shared a satisfied smirk, before raising suggestive eyebrows towards Draco.
"Gotten together, have you, you two?" Blaise's asked with an almost predatory smile. At first, Harry had thought that it was their argument of the previous day that the Slytherins were solely referring. Or he had, until the Gryffindors arrived, dropping heavily into their seats, and Hermione had blinked rapidly as she shifted her gaze between the two of them.
"Oh, so you two are dating now?"
Neville and Ron had started in surprise, but while Neville had simply turned towards them, a slow smile spreading across his face, Ron had frowned questioningly at Hermione.
"What are you talking about?'
"Please tell me you aren't that dense," Hermione huffed with that sigh that surfaced so often around Ron.
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "'Course not. It's pretty obvious." His own smile flashed across his face as he turned towards Harry and Draco. "Congrats, you two. Bout time. If I'd known a fight was all it took to nudge you along- " He cut off abruptly in an 'oof' as Neville elbowed him, his own head buried in his free hand in sympathetic embarrassment.
Feeling his cheeks flair, Harry dropped his eyes from the group of his grinning friends, nearly sinking into Draco's shoulder. Far be it from disapproval or bafflement, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike seemed to be active supporters of the development in his and Draco's relationship. Harry wasn't entirely sure in that moment whether such was, in fact, any better. How had they even known in the first place? Had someone scrawled a declaration on Harry's forehead without his notice? It was mortifying.
In contrast, Draco appeared quite simply unaffected by the teasing. With cool collectedness, he's raised an eyebrow at Ron and drawled, "yes, almost as obvious as yourself and Hermione. Tell me, when are you actually going to ask her on a date, Weasley? Or would you rather I ask her for you?"
Spluttering wordlessly, Ron spun his gaze between Draco's self-satisfied smirk and Hermione who suddenly seemed to be trying to sink beneath the table. The bushy-haired girl was as flamingly red as Harry felt. He almost felt sorry for her, though not quite.
"Ah, that's true, Ron," Blaise interjected enthusiastically. "Let's face it, we all knew you and Brown weren't going to last. Not when you were making eyes at Hermione all the time." Said girl released a whimper and buried herself further in her arms folded before her on the table. Draco, offering a small smile to Harry, tugged him into sitting on the bench beside him and idly began picking at breakfast. And that was, quite simply, the end of it.
Truth be told, not all that much had changed in their relationship since they'd become aware of the extent of their mutual feelings. Harry and Draco had been holding hands more than even the love-struck Ginny and Neville since the beginning of term – which Harry had never, until that moment, really considered all that odd – and generally spent more time with one another than they did with anyone else. Draco slept with Harry in Featherwood's rooms anyway – Blaise appeared to have been waiting for them to "finally tell each other already" just so that he could make suggestive insinuations about their sleeping arrangement – so nothing had changed there either.
The only thing that had really changed was the kissing. And Draco's tendency to simply want to hold Harry when they were together, but that was usually reserved for when they were alone. Harry didn't really understand Draco's need; before his own sudden desire to be in physical contact with Draco, he had been less than fond of such intimacy. The almost clasping hold Draco had on him was a little astounding. Almost like a frightened child would clutch their mother. But it wasn't uncomfortable – far from it in fact – so Harry didn't comment on it, let alone draw away. Rather, he was finding he rather looked forward to their evenings curled around one another before the dim fireplace, reading or exchanging quiet, broken conversation into the night. Even better, with each kiss, each handhold and each comforting embrace, the automatic rebirth of the memory of Stephen Defaux became less prominent.
Harry would never tell Draco that the memories were far from absent. It was a white lie, yes, but one that he felt was necessary. And only half a lie, for though the memories reared their ugly heads so frequently, they seemed unable to penetrate the feelings of comfort, of warmth, of love, that arose almost every moment of Draco's presence. He was able to simply revel in the intimacy of contact without fear of pushing things further.
For Harry didn't know how far that protective barrier of Love extended, and he didn't particularly want to find out, either. With unspoken agreement they capped the progression of their physical relationship from anything further, a fact that Harry was truly grateful for. Draco didn't seem to mind. Rather, Harry didn't feel even the faintest hint of pushiness from Draco to take build upon their intimacy. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but either way it was a show of Draco's consideration, he was sure. And the Love that flooded through Harry each time he considered it was enough to erase the uneasiness that arose with such contemplation.
They were perfectly fine just as they were. And Harry wouldn't want it any other way.
"Harry, you've got a letter," Draco's quiet voice muttered in his ear, drawing his attention from his half-eaten slice of toast. Following Draco's directive nod, he spied the giga raven perched in the rafters, a dark smudge in the paler shadows and the only deliverer to be seen in the hall.
The raven – one of giga raven's of House Black – seemed to have no sense of courier protocol; it arrived to offer Harry letters from Sirius whenever it saw fit. Luckily, so far the deliveries had been at meal times, though sporadic and usually either before the rest of the post or at dinner times. Harry was starting to suspect the bird coincided its timing as such so as to snag the off-cuts from the students who had become familiar with its near-daily visits. Still, at least it had seemed to develop some sense of etiquette; the bird rarely descended before Harry acknowledged it nowadays.
Raising a hand towards the bird in a waving signal, Harry hastily cleared a space on the table for its landing. Just in time, too, for in a flurry of black feathers the enormous bird skittered to a stop before him. Scooping up a sliver of bacon, Harry handed the treat to the awaiting mouth of the bird and deftly untied the twine around its leg as it munched greedily. As soon as the small roll of parchment was freed, the bird spread its wings and sprung into the air once more.
"From Sirius?" Blaise asked, glaring at the bird as it departed through the owl shoots near the roof. He'd never taken to it bird since their first rather rocky meeting, though the raven seemed entirely oblivious to his dislike. Harry shrugged, nodded, and proceeded to unroll the letter. His friends had already turned back to their conversations after the brief interruption; it had become commonplace by now.
Sirius' scrawl was as messy as ever. Harry had received over half a dozen since they'd agreed to converse in such a way and it hadn't gotten any more legible. Draco had complained that it made his head hurt to try and decipher, but Harry had only smiled and replied that it was a good thing the letters weren't meant for him then. Not that it meant Draco didn't read them over his shoulder anyway.
Dear Harry,
No, to answer your question, I don't think anything has changed that would make Buckbeak more snappy than usual. Honestly, a bird-brain if even I've met one. I regret ever claiming that he was my friend; he's not! Lyssy seems like a far more amicable companion. I'll try the aniseed, though. Maybe he does just want some pampering. Thanks for the suggestion.
How'd it go talking to Neville? You know, I'm sure that if you asked him for the Map he'd give it to you. And before you pull the 'it's rightfully his' card on me again, remember: I made that Map (or at least partially), your Dad and Remus too, so if anything it's actually yours. Consider it a legacy of sorts. I still don't know how he managed to get his hands on it. I hope he's been using it for nothing but mischief; I would expect no less from the holder of the Marauder's Map. Oh, do I have some stories to tell you! Remind me to fill you in on the time your Dad and I found the room stuffed with firecrackers. I wonder if it's still there? Behind the portrait of that really ugly unicorn that looks like it's only got three legs and walks like it too. Do you know the one?
Speaking of the Map, I've got a couple of things that I've been meaning to send to you. Just some things from when I was at school that your Dad left in my care when he moved out with Lily. A couple of things I've acquired since, too, that I've wanted to give you for as long as I can remember. Would you like me to send them to you? I'd hoped you could find a use for them. Or maybe you can just pick them up if you drop around in the holidays. I've been touching up my motorcycle since your last letter – can't tell you how proud I am for your enthusiasm – so maybe we could go for a ride? I'll let you drive, at least a little bit. I promise!
Oh, and just so you know, I finally managed to open that old chest, the one I've been trying to get open for months. You remember I told you about it? I was hoping for at least a little bit of treasure of some sort. You know what was inside? Nothing! Not a thing! I feel slighted that I wasted so much time on it. That took serious dedication!
As always, looking forward to hearing from you,
Love Sirius
Harry was smiling by the time he finished the letter. It was not particularly long, nor were the words anything of a private matter, but the simple act of sharing, of conversing with Sirius left him with a warm feeling that wasn't really all that much like what he felt with Draco but wasn't terribly different either. He folded the letter and tucked it gently into his pocket.
"Honestly, he sounds like a school boy." Draco flicked a piece of scrambled egg across his plate with his fork. "He's more like a school boy than you or me."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe he sort of is."
Rolling his eyes, Draco dropped his fork and propped his head onto his free hand. Harry was a little surprised at the slacker motion until a quick glance around them affirmed that the Great Hall was indeed still empty. "You seem quite happy about the fact."
"It's not that I'm happy about that in particular. It just nice, that I can talk to him about such inconsequential things. It feels sort of… companionable."
"He hardly knows you," Draco muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than annoyed. He hadn't fully gotten over his resentment towards Sirius – for reasons Harry still couldn't quite fathom; they seemed a little persistent even for mollified jealousy – but he was making a concerted effort to try. "I mean, does he actually think that you'd use the map to wander around the corridors after dark and pull practical jokes."
Harry smiled. "No, I don't think he actually does. But maybe he still holds hopes?"
"Did you ask Neville to give it to you?"
Shaking his head, Harry stacked his knife and fork in the middle of his plate, perfectly in line. A moment later the entire set, plate and cutlery both, disappeared. To the kitchens, he assumed. "No, but don't tell Sirius that. He'd just do it himself."
"Of course he would. He'd think it an act of valour on his part." Draco rolled his eyes as Harry's smile widened. "Don't look at me like that… bloody 'love Sirius'."
Harry covered his mouth to hide the further widening of his grin and slipped his arm through Draco's. "You're an idiot, you know."
Draco only hummed noncommittally, but wrapped his arm around Harry's right back.

"I thought hydra preferred trout to salmon?"
At the sound of Luna's voice, Harry glanced up from the fish he was currently gutting. The Ravenclaw girl peered over his shoulder in open curiosity, her long blonde curls tickling his cheek and the puff of smoke from her breath warming the icy air.
"Hello, Luna. I didn't know you were coming today."
"Yes, well, Ginny wanted to come to see Neville and it's been a while so…" Trailing off, Luna glanced over her shoulder to her friend and Neville currently conversing with evident seriousness over a bucket of frozen fish. They huddled in scarf and thick coats, but the tension in the lines of both of their shoulders with still apparent. "I don't know what they're talking about but she seemed a bit upset."
Harry nodded slowly, following the direction of her gaze. He could guess what they were talking about. Neville had told him that morning that Dumbledore required him for another Horcrux search that evening. It had barely been a week since the last hunt and Neville had seemed uneasy about the most recent find to say the least. He confessed that he knew even less about what was going to happen that night than he had on previous excursions, but that Dumbledore had explained he would fill him in before they left.
Neville's nervousness had left Harry with a definite sense of foreboding and a very urgent desire to insist that Neville give this one a miss somehow. He knew it wouldn't happen; Neville had become distinctly more committed to the cause since he'd first spoken to Harry all those months ago. Harry hated to think that he had pushed his friend into such a state, but the thought stuck like toffee to teeth.
So it was no wonder that Ginny had sought him out, and had now deeply embedded Neville in a fierce conversation. Her eyebrows were drawn together, yet there was none of the anger that had featured so prominently each time Neville had returned from his trips with Dumbledore. Instead, worry flushed clearly upon her face. It was most likely that, like Harry, Ginny had picked up on Neville's own uneasiness.
"They both seem a little upset, don't they?" Luna murmured, her face filled with thoughtful curiosity as she turned slowly back towards Harry. If Harry didn't know her, he would have thought she cared precious little for the scene of upset before her. Instead, it was almost astoundingly clear that Luna was troubled. And a troubled Luna was an uncommon occurrence indeed.
"I'm sure they'll will be alright," Harry assured her, turning back towards the salmon. His hands were smothered in gloves far too large, but even so the iciness of the semi-frozen fish chilled his fingers. Add that to the cool weather, and the current Care of Magical Creatures class was shaping up to be far from the best. Not that there was much anyone could do about it. Besides, at least the snow had retreated, and it wasn't even raining. "Did you want to feed Squirt with me?"
The distraction was obviously simply that, but Luna only smiled her dreamy smile, a spark of interest springing into her eyes to replace the thoughtfulness, and nodded. Assisting Harry by scooping up the gutted fish in her bare hands, she followed him to the large pool that posed as the hydra's current enclosure.
Squirt – as it had been dubbed by Hagrid with great affection – had grown rather unremarkably in the past weeks. It was to be expected given its impressive lifespan, but the very degree of limited growth was almost astounding. Hagrid had claimed they wouldn't even need a larger bath for it for at least another two months. The Magical Creatures teacher had beamed proudly as he announced as much to the disappointment of his students; the only mar on his good humor was that he still didn't know the sex of the creature. Until then, the half-giant persisted in claiming it a 'he'; using the reference of 'it' was simply rude. Or so Hagrid claimed.
A spray of salty water nearly drenched Harry and Luna as they approached with their armload of salmon. A hissing shriek in a trio of different pitches bubbled into chortles of excitement as the hydra swung its scaly head into view. Squirt looked nearly ready to climb from the pool in its eagerness. Likely would have, had Hagrid not built the walls too high to loop even one paddle-like foot over. Not that it would be able to walk particularly well anyway, but simply flop in a shuffling wriggle as would be required if forced onto the land. Actual feet only developed on the rare occasion of infrequent land travel.
Standing a dozen feet from the edge of the enclosure, Harry and Luna lobbed the gutted fish at the hydra. Mandy and Susan had just finished their own batch of feeding around the other side of the pool and were heading back to the stand of barrels overflowing with Squirt's lunch. Hannah had opted out for the lesson; the increasingly greenish tinge to her face suggested that it was probably a wise choice on her part.
As each fish was lobed, one of the three heads darted with snake-like striking speed to snatch it from the air with pincher-like jaws. It was supposed to be a lesson in feeding behavior observation, though Harry found himself almost solely fixated on the yellowish fangs that snapped with each bite. The crunch of bones triggered an irrational upwelling of sympathy in him.
"Poor fish," Luna murmured at his side, as though she had been party to his thoughts. She gazed down at the limp salmon sadly for a moment before tossing it with startling accuracy towards the central hydra-head. Harry only nodded. It was all too easy to imagine himself sailing through the air to be snatched up by powerful jaws. Only, young as the hydra was, it would probably take a couple of bites to down a human. It couldn't have been all that much larger than a horse.
The continued in companionable silence until their arms were empty of fish, then simply waited, watching, as the hydra paddled up and down the side of its pool in a motion reminiscent of a pacing tiger. Harry wasn't particularly eager to leave and fetch more fish; he wasn't overly fond of gutting them, even if he could understand the necessity. It had to do with something in the salmon's respiratory system being indigestible or some such.
"I hope we get a hydra next year,' Luna sighed.
The words could have been to herself – likely were – but Harry replied anyway. "Your taking Care of Magical Creatures, then?"
Nodding, Luna looked down at her hands. They were free of blood, thankfully, which was a bonus of the fish being frozen, but were still slimed in a rather messy manner. "Yes. I do find them fascinating. Though I think Hagrid would probably do better to focus upon some of the more relevant Magical creatures."
Harry frowned, curious. "What sort of creatures?"
"Well, the Southern Minket would be quite relevant at the moment, given the reported rise in fondness for beef stew in Oxford. Or the aquavirus maggot; I suspect that's why we have to gut the salmon?" She turned to Harry expectantly, who could only blink blankly in reply. He was fairly certain that neither creature existed, but it was all part and parcel of Luna's eccentricities.
Finally he shrugged. "Maybe you could make some suggestions?"
Luna offered him a slow, broad smile. "You know, Harry, I think that's a wonderful idea." She nodded to herself, satisfied, and went back to looking at her hands. It took Harry a moment to realise that she was actually inspecting them for something. Possibly traces of the maggots she'd mentioned.
Harry found that he quite liked Luna. For all of her strangeness, her company rather relaxing. The softness of her voice would have been well put to singing lullabies, and she was hardly demanding of attention. She was rather quiet, in fact. Quite different to Hermione and Pansy, or Ginny for that matter. Not that he found the other girls tiring, but Luna had a quality about her that he didn't find at all exhausting to keep pace with. She rarely felt the need to fill silences with meaningless chatter, either, for which he was grateful.
Yes, he found he really quite liked spending time with Luna.
"So, we just throw them at it? Am I understanding this right?"
Turning, Harry reached out a hand to catch the fish threatening to tumble from Neville's arms at his striding approach. Somehow, in the time he and Luna had been feeding Squirt, Neville appeared to have emptied an entire barrel himself and disemboweled just about all the salmon inside. Ginny followed behind him, similarly laden with fish. It was a credit to her that, despite being free of the gloves and jacket that Harry and Neville wore, she didn't seem the least bit hesitant to handle them. Luna too, for that matter.
"That's right," Luna replied for him. "And try to aim for the left head if your throwing right-handed. The right if you're left-handed."
"Why?" Neville frowned, shifting his stinking burden awkwardly in his arms.
"It brings you good luck," she assured him in a manner so matter-of-fact that Harry was almost convinced it was actually true.
"Ri-ight," Neville replied. He didn't sound even nearly convinced, but acknowledged the suggestion nonetheless. "Hear that, Gin? Right hand to the left, left hand to the right."
"I heard," Ginny replied, smiling fondly at him and the four began throwing once more. Harry couldn't help aiming for the center head himself, despite Luna's words; the other three seemed to be purposely avoiding it in favor of luck-hunting.
Glancing at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, he was relieved to see the smile remained upon her lips. The sadness and worry still persisted, however; it was simply hidden. Not entirely effectively, either, for whenever Neville turned away from her, Harry would notice her brows knit once more and her jaw clench, only to smooth one more when he turned back.
Poor Neville. And poor Ginny. How horrible it would be to be in her position. Just thinking about it left Harry feeling sick with unease. He cared for Neville, truly he did. But if it had been Draco in his position? If Draco was the one disappearing to God-knows-where and harvesting dangerous magical objects from the caches of an evil madman? Harry didn't think he would be able to handle it half as well as Ginny did.
They finished their class with the last of the fish. Hannah had retrieved a degree of healthy colouration about halfway through and was even able to participate with a few throws towards the end. Ginny maintained her stoic positivity, and Neville seemed to be forcing good cheer. They wandered back to the castle deliberately avoiding anything that may reignite the sparks of concern.
As it turned out, Harry was right to have worried.

The pacing had been going on for so long that Harry marveled that a track had not been worn into the carpet. Ginny strode with blank determination before the fire of the Gryffindor common room. It was late – very late – and the other students had already sought their beds. Which was probably for the best, as Draco, Pansy and Blaise had adamantly insisted on joining their friends, regardless of whether it was in the Gryffindor common room or not.
Ginny was not the only one standing. Ron paced behind the two-seater couch, though notably slower than Ginny, with an expression of determination hiding the worry that wavered across his face every now and again. Harry wondered detachedly if that was a Weasley trait, being unable to remain seated in times of worry and stress.
Harry and Hermione sat before the chair Ron paced behind, with Draco leaning half-seated upon the arm. Blaise and Pansy had secreted themselves into the single-seater, Pansy nestled in Blaise's lap in an arrangement that Harry doubted she would have been caught dead in had anyone been around to see it.
Silence permeated the air. It was stifling, what with the undertones it carried. Tension thrummed through each and every one of them, and had been for a good twenty-four hours now. Since Neville had left.
It shouldn't have taken so long. Neither of the other trips had been nearly as long; simply a couple of hours at most in the evening and nowhere near as worrisome, even if Neville had returned somewhat worse for wear. That no one knew what was going on only made it that so worse.
Ginny, Hermione and Ron had sought out McGonagall that morning when they realised Neville hadn't returned the previous night. They'd met up with Harry and the Slytherins shortly after, heads bowed and shoulders slumping dejectedly. The Head of Gryffindor had provided no answers, though Hermione had claimed she thought the professor had seemed rather curt, frazzled even.
Something was wrong. Harry knew it, and he knew his friends did too. None of them voiced a word of suspicion, however. Doing so would only make their concerns real. So each had ploughed through the day in a fashion reminiscent of zombies, paying little to no attention to their classwork in favor of trekking through rings of unanswerable questions. It was a mark of the severity of the situation that no teacher pulled them up for their absentmindedness. Not even Snape had voiced a word of contempt to the Gryffindors. Harry suspected McGonagall had spread the word.
At dinner that evening, with still no sign of Neville, Ron and Hermione had quietly informed Harry, Draco, Pansy and Blaise that they'd be waiting up for the night until he got back.
"Ginny's a mess," Ron had muttered, his voice thick with worry both for his best friend and his sister. "I don't think she'll be sleeping tonight, and I wouldn't want to leave her up by herself, even if I thought I could sleep." Hermione had nodded in agreement.
"We'll join you," Pansy had replied quietly. "We'll come to Gryffindor tower at eleven. If he's not back by then, let us in. Or even if he is…"
"You're coming into Gryffindor tower?" Ron had sounded surprised rather than affronted at the suggestion. "Do you even know where it is?"
Pansy had smiled wanly. "Ron, I'm a Slytherin. Of course I know where it is."
Ron hadn't even the motivation to reply to such a comment.
Neville hadn't returned by eleven. The school clock distantly chimed midnight and there was still no sign of him. Ginny paused in her steps until the ringing gongs stopped, then, like a pocket watch rewound, she begun pacing once more.
This can't go on. We have to do something.
In Harry's lap Lyssy raised her head. Her ears drooped slightly, eyes narrowed, and Harry felt a moment of guilt when he realised he'd likely been pushing his worry and fears through the bond they shared.
"Sorry, Lyssy."
The cat extended a paw to prod gently at his leg before resting her chin down once more. "Sad, worried, wrong? What is wrong?"
Harry could only stroke her head and attempt to project soothing thoughts. It was by and far his turn; the little Familiar had always done as much for him, if perhaps unwittingly. He stroked her head until she closed her eyes in sleepiness. Yet even the monotony of the stroking could not shake his agitation.
Glancing towards Draco, Harry met his friend's eyes. Like so often of late, it seemed they were already thinking along the same wavelength. Silent communication transferred between them so easily, it made words seem redundant. Pushing himself up from the arm of the chair, Draco moved towards Ginny. With a hand placed upon her shoulder, he stilled her pacing.
Turning towards the room at large, Draco paused for a moment before speaking. "We need to do something."
"Like what? We've already been to McGonagall." Ron had halted in his own pacing, but his eyes were still downcast, as though he spoke to the floor.
"Then maybe we'll go and see her again. Unless you have any other bright ideas?" The remark could have been cutting, but even Draco's voice held a weary strain that dissolved any sharpness.
"We could go to Dumbledore's office. Just to check," Hermione muttered, so quietly she was almost inaudible. "Since McGonagall still doesn't know anything." The Gryffindor girl's lip trembled slightly and Harry unconsciously reached out a hand to pat her arm. She glanced towards him, still the mild surprise that she always did when he touched her, but gave a wobbly smile anyway.
"I might have a suggestion." Pansy's hushed voice drew all eyes as she eased herself from Blaise's lap. She folded her arms across her chest, fixing Draco with a stare. "I could send a message to my father."
"Your father? What would that do?" Ron grunted flatly, as though barely even aware of the words leaving his mouth.
"Pansy, I don't think that would be such a good idea," Blaise murmured as he rose behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She half-turned towards him, shrugging a shoulder. "Perhaps not. But if he knows something…"
"What would he know?" Hermione flickered her gaze between them both, tears glistening in her eyes but not yet fallen. "Why would –"
"My family is neutral for all intents and purposes, Hermione, but that doesn't mean we don't keep our ears open and eyes watchful." Pansy raised her chin, as though expecting reprimand. "The Parkinsons move in the right circles to glean information that might be relevant to the, ah… subject at hand." She glanced towards Ginny, but the other girl simply stared blankly into the fireplace.
"Could you send him an owl?" Draco's voice had take on an orderly, directive fashion; he was always more confident when working towards something, when a plan was developed or being enacted.
Pansy nodded. "Floo message would be faster, but from what I know they're still down across the school."
"If you would then?"
The Slytherin girl nodded once more and made towards the door. Blaise followed in her wake. "I'll come. Might send a message to Mother while I'm at it. She's not exactly as esteemed as the Parkinsons, but she might know something." Pansy didn't reply, accepting his accompaniment, and the pair disappeared through the porthole with a click of the latch.
"Right, now that's underway." Draco turned back to Ron, frowning at the immobile boy. "Ron, I still think that maybe you should check out Dumbledore's office. Just to check."
Ron turned his head slowly. "What? Why me?"
"You'd be able to guess the password, wouldn't you? You said a little while ago that you and Neville had gotten rather good at that."
Snorting, Ron shook his head. "Neville, maybe, yeah. Not me."
Draco ignored the self-deprecation. "Still, you'd be better than anyone else. Do you think you could give it a go? It might tell us something. About where Neville and the headmaster have gotten to."
The words seemed to shake Ron out of his slump. His eyes lost their glassiness as he considered Draco's suggestion, then he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Better than waiting around here, anyway." And without another word he slipped towards and through the portrait hole after Blaise and Pansy.
Harry watched him go with a frown settling on his brow. Draco, he's… Is he sending them away on purpose? It sounded a little silly to him, but even so was definitely plausible. Draco seemed to have reached a decision and was proceeding towards his chosen destination with decisiveness. Harry didn't know exactly what that endpoint was, but as such it came as no surprise when he turned to Hermione and reposed his earlier suggestion.
"Hermione? Are you alright to check in on McGonagall?"
Even in her worried state, Harry could tell that Hermione had reached a similar conclusion as himself. A frown furrowed her own brow and the tears swirling in her eyes couldn't quite mask her quiet consideration. She didn't act upon it, however. Instead, she eased herself slowly to her feet and nodded.
"Yes," she agreed with a sniff. "Maybe McGonagall has heard something. I'll go and check." Pausing for a moment longer to stare meaningfully at Draco, she turned on her heel and quietly slipped from the Gryffindor common room into the labyrinthine castle.
The portrait had barely snapped shut when Draco turned towards Ginny and spun her towards him, hands clasping both shoulders. Harry started worriedly; not that he thought Draco would intentionally hurt her in an attempt to instill some sense into her mindless worrying, but simply that Ginny seemed particularly fragile at present. He worried that a misplaced cuss would dissolve her into either angry shouts or blubbering tears.
Ginny did neither. Turning her head slowly towards Draco, she met his eyes straight on. They still seemed distant however, which was rather disconcerting to behold.
Draco would have none of it. Dropping a hand from her shoulder, he reached down and grasped her wrist firmly, shaking it like a rattle. "Alright, tell me what's going on."
"Draco," Harry began, nudging Lyssy from his lap so he could rise and move towards them. He had no idea what Draco was talking about but it wasn't fair to Ginny, whatever it was.
Draco only spared him half a glance before he shook Ginny's wrist again. "Tell me what's going on, Ginny. This is a Linkage Bracelet, isn't it? It's charmed, right? Tell me what's going on. Why don't you know where Neville is?"
Harry blinked in surprise, hand stretched halfway to stopping Draco's shaking pausing mid-motion. His eyes dropped to the rose-gold bracelet coiled around Ginny's wrist. It was an unremarkable piece, something he'd noticed she'd started wearing from the Christmas holidays. It was pretty, to be sure, in the way that shiny things were pretty, but nothing particularly special. Like all magical items, it seemed to glow slightly. Or perhaps it was more like a gently wafting fragrance, or the emission of a soft warmth. Harry wasn't sure which, but it was something he'd always been aware of it. He had simply put it down to the piece being wizard jewelry and thought nothing more of it.
A Linkage Bracelet? He could make his own deductions simply from the name and what little he knew of it. Neville had one, too, a matching one he'd also been wearing since Christmas, which would mean…
"Ginny?" Draco urged her with his quiet, forceful voice once more.
It seemed to penetrate the walls of her consciousness this time. Ginny caught her bottom lip between her teeth and tossed her head to the side, breaking the line of eye contact. "I don't know."
'What do you mean you don't know?'
"I mean what I said, Draco. I don't know! One minute I could feel Neville's presence through the Link and the next minute, gone!"
Harry felt coldness wash through his gut. The word gone, uttered so harshly, rung like a bell in his ears, throbbed in his temples. "Ginny, do you mean…?"
Ginny shook her head. "I don't know what I mean. I… I don't think he's dead." Her voice wavered, catching on the word, and Harry knew that had he been able to see her eyes she would have been on the verge of tears. "The Link is supposed to hurt, physically hurt, if something as huge as that happens. I didn't feel anything like that."
Draco stared at her penetratingly, his head slightly bowed and Ginny's wrist still clasped in his fingers. A moment more passed, until finally he sighed and released his grasp. He took a step back. "Good. That's good then."
"Good?" Ginny swung her head back to face him. Though over half a foot shorter than him, the strength of her emotion definitely made up for the height discrepancy. "How is this good? I don't know where he is, or if he's okay- "
"But you know he isn't dead. And with the Linkage Bracelet, you'll be able to pinpoint the last place he could be detected. That's how the Charm works, isn't it?"
For a moment, Harry thought Ginny might actually snap Draco's head off. Quite literally, too, from the clenching and unclenching of her fists. But as his words visibly sunk in, her anger and fear seemed to die to a manageable level. Eyes drifting to the side, she nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, I might be able to…"
"Will you activate it? I think we might be able to sneak out of the school unnoticed if we do it quickly. Harry and I can Apparate, even if it is illegally." Draco cast Harry a brief smile before turning back to Ginny.
Swallowing, the girl dropped her eyes to her bracelet. She tapped it idly, as though considering, then nodded abruptly. 'Alright. But you're taking me with you.'
Draco paused, then nodded agreement. 'I suppose so.'
Harry switched his eyes back and forth between the two of them, uncomprehending. Ginny had fixed her eyes firmly upon the bracelet, as though reading something from its shiny links, and Draco watched her intently. Harry felt like he'd missed an important step somewhere in the process. "Wait a minute, you want to just Apparate from school to an unknown destination? Without any adult support?"
Shrugging, Draco adopted a blasé expression. "Well, not from school. There's Anti-Apparation wards to consider. We'll have to go outside the wards."
Harry stared at him for another long moment, then shook his head to rid it of confusion. "Whatever, I think you're missing the point. And what about Blaise and Pansy? And Hermione, Ron? You're just going to leave without telling them? Shouldn't we wait to let them know?"
"Actually, I deliberately sent them away. There's less danger with less people," Draco offered with a sniff. His eyes flickered back towards Harry again briefly, eyebrow rising. "We don't have to tell them. Not yet, anyway. Unless you wanted to wait yourself, but… I'd thought you'd want to come too?"
"Of course I do, I- Draco, stop avoiding my questions."
Another shrug and Draco reached into an inside pocket of his robe. "I'll leave them a note explaining, thought I think Hermione probably suspected I had something similar in mind. They can't all come with us; it would be impractical."
"It would be more support- "
"But less practical. Come on, Harry, what do you honestly think a bunch of students could do?"
Harry opened his mouth to reply, then paused. He had to admit that was true. None of them would likely to be able to respond appropriately to an emergency situation, regardless of the past adventures Ron and Hermione had been a part of.
Finally, he nodded. "Ye-s, but that just brings up my other question. I don't understand why we couldn't tell a teacher –"
"I've got it," Ginny suddenly announced. There was determination in her voice, and in her eyes when she raised them to meet first Draco's then Harry's. "I know where he is. Was."
"Good. Then we should go. Now." Draco nodded shortly, turning to Harry. "Unless you wanted to discuss it further? You can stay behind if you'd like."
Harry wouldn't. There was no way he would stay behind when Draco left, no matter how much he wanted to 'discuss it further'. Which he did. He honestly did. For though a flicker of relief, gelled in an odd concoction with nervousness and foreboding, settled in his stomach – they might be able to find Neville! – he couldn't think that it was the best course of action. But the expectancy in Draco's eyes, the urgent determination in Ginny's, washed away any argument.
"Fine. Let's go."
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The Masks of Real Heroes