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One That Stood Alone	By : tsubasagahoushi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1867 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Title: One That Stood Alone
Author: tsubasagahoushi
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron, and maybe some more later on
Disclaimer: I am a poor, poor college student who does not own anything... much less the rights to these characters. Those are all the great genius of J.K. Rowling and the respective publishers...
A/N: Right so- somehow my story got deleted or something? So I re-uploaded everything and then realized that I haven't updated in ages. Sorry, guys. So here's another chapter. I hope you enjoy!
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There was a rush of words and insults flew from angry mouths. Hermione was knelt near Harry, gently inspecting his condition. A hiss escaped her lips and she bit back the tears. There were several angry scars all along Harry's arm. Blood soaked down through his robes and into the starch white of his school shirt where the scarred arm rested. Pulling out her wand, Hermione closed her eyes against the shouts from across the room. Her mind conjured forth the appropriate healing spell then a cleaning one. Soon Harry was left lying on the sofa, eyes shut and face contorted into that of the familiar pain she knew was in connection with You-Know-Who. There was no spell to heal that pain. How could they have neglected Harry this much? Some of these scars had to be over a year old... this had been going on since sixth year, if not before that.

"Bloody hell, Weasel, you prove your stupidity even further than I could possibly begin to imagine. If I were going to injure your precious Potter why in all the hells would I bring him here?!"

"You're trying to trick us! Harry wouldn't have done that to himself! You must have been doing something to him, Malfoy, and so help me..."

"Going to do something about it, Weasel? I'd love to see you try."

"Without your bodyguards it should be pretty easy." Wands were drawn and Hermione stood, her own outstretched at both of the others.

"Expelliarmus!" Both boys' wands went flying from their hands. Ron turned, sputtering at what Hermione had done. Malfoy's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise before his lips curled in contempt. "Honestly, you two! You are both seventh years or have you forgotten? And Malfoy, you are Head Boy. Such childish behavior is hardly appropriate of someone with that title." Draco's nostrils flared but he only clenched his jaw tighter. Granger's words had brought his attention to the reason he was here in the first place, resting on the sofa behind the bushy haired girl. His eyes narrowed and teeth clenched tightly against one another to fight off the worry which knotted in his chest and threatened to spill forth.

"But Hermione-" Ron's words were cut off with a glare. The redhead averted his girlfriend's gaze, focusing only on the floor beneath his feet and making all attempts at ignoring the Slytherin who caused every nerve in his body to twitch with the need to beat the boy into a bloody mess. Hermione called for both of their wands, walking over to the freckled Gryffindor in order to return his. She leaned in to the boy, a loose embrace isolating them from Draco. The blond looked away from the act, lips upturned in disgust. He hadn't come here to see their atrocious signs of pathetic love. In fact, he failed to see why he had brought Harry here in the first place. Surely, it would have been better had he brought Harry to Snape. Sure, his godfather wouldn't be too pleased with dealing with Potter, but he wouldn't have to witness the dramatic acts of these two. And then he could at least be closer to the pained boy, prod Sev for more information on just what the hell was going on.

The rage was fading from his frame and he thought of striking up another row with the Weasel in attempts to ignite it once more. He would much rather deal with the fury than this sickening fear in the pit of his stomach laced with such heavy dread he couldn't even name.

His narrowed eyes focused on the raven haired boy across the room. Harry lay on the sofa, scarred arm over his chest and the blood gone from his being. Only Draco could still smell the lingering odor in his nostrils, feel the dried stickiness against his palm where he had grabbed at the boy when he had fallen. Draco's gaze raked over Harry to rest on his face, his throat working at keeping back the choking sound which threatened to spill from his lips. Deathly pale, the palor did not suit the usually tanned Gryffindor Golden Boy. His eyes were clenched tightly shut and his lips stretched in a thin line of internal pain. Beads of perspiration shimmered on his skin, and Draco wanted nothing more than to take the few steps forward and kneel at that figure, brushing back the tufts of wild raven hair from the pained face. Wanted nothing more than to wipe the scar from that forehead and throw the curse back at the Dark Lord, demanding he return both of their freedom.

"Malfoy?" He blinked, not having realized that Granger had been standing in front of him with his own wand outstretched towards him for the taking. Tilting his head up in a mock gesture of arrogance, he was proud that his hand did not shake when he retrieved his wand. It was only then Draco noticed the concern in the eyes looking up at him. No, not this from the Mudblood. Scowl. There. All signs of concern were immediately wiped away by anger. "What happened, Malfoy?"

Draco crossed his arms, easing his voice into its usual drawl as he told them how he found Potter in the owlery, not giving them a reason as to why he was there himself this late- it was none of their business. Ron's fists were clenched at his sides and he stood further away from Draco, leaning against the same sofa Harry now lay upon. Once Draco finished, he darted forward with an accusatory finger pointed in the blond Slytherin's direction.

"See! Why would you even come here if that really happened? You did something to Harry and you're just worried that Madame Pomfrey will be able to track it!" Draco growled low in his throat.

"Obviously," his voice dripped with disdain as his cold gaze bore into Weasley, "you don't give a damn about your supposed 'best friend.' Do you really think if I were to bring Potter to the wonderful Pomfrey that she would let him go that easily? Those wounds are self-inflicted. I would think even you would know the consequences of such actions." Ron's mouth clamped shut and Hermione sighed, one hand working at the strain which had begun to sting behind her eyes. Suicide was not taken lightly in the wizarding world and for any signs of such, extreme psychological steps were taken immediately. No doubt if they involved the supposed saviour of their world, the steps would be even more hurried and desperate. Had he brought Harry to the infirmary within seconds of discerning the origin of the scars, a Psycho-Analyst mediwizard from St. Mungos would have appeared to berate the boy and prod at his mind for the reasoning behind such dire actions.

"Why are you still here then?" He glared in response of the calculating gaze from Granger. His lips were pursed in thought as he rattled through possible explanations which could keep him the enemy and evil Slytherin he was supposed to be. Pushing back strands of silvery blond hair as he gave into the habit, his gaze drifted over to the raven haired boy and all excuses fled his mind. Emerald eyes opened, squinting to make out the shapes before him. When their eyes met, Harry's own slightly widened. His hand frozen, fingers locked about his golden strands, Draco couldn't pull his gaze from the emerald which glittered back at him. Emotion sparkled there before being marred by pure agony as his face contorted into a suffering mask of guilt and disgust. Draco recognized the longing behind the pained expression- the absolute wish for another's touch to push back the fear and suffering. The irrational need for human contact just to know that you weren't alone. Harry was calling to Draco with his gaze. He rolled over, throwing his upper body off the sofa as retching sounds pierced the heavy silence. Draco moved before he could give it any further thought.

"Ssh, Harry. It's alright." His lips brushed against the boy's ear so that the comforting whispers could only be heard by him alone, one arm encircling his waist as the other smoothed back the wild hair. Once the vomiting had stopped, he looked to Harry for confirmation. The weakened boy nodded, sinking into the loose one-armed embrace and used the Slytherin for support. Draco drew his wand, muttering a cleaning charm so that the mess was gone from sight and mind. The room was perfectly still for several blissful seconds before all hell broke loose.

"What are-! You slimy-! Get away from Harry!" There were hands in Draco's robes, pulling him up and away from the boy pressed at his side. Cold glaciers met the raging ocean as Ron and Draco glared at one another, mere inches apart.
"I suggest you let me go, Weasley, before I hex you into next week." Red splotches marred the freckled face in rage but Draco found himself thrown to the side rather than knocked up the bracket. He stumbled, grabbing at the edge of the sofa for support. Standing to his full height, he lifted his head in a most elegantly cold manner.

"Harry, are you alright, mate? What did he do to you? Was he the one who caused You-Know-Who's vision? That's it, isn't it?! Malfoy's working for You-Know-Who and was trying to weaken you for him or something!" Draco's wand was drawn and pointed towards the offending mouth, his own splash of red marring his porcelain mask in anger. He knew nothing about the Dark Lord and the idiotic Gryffindor's audacity to align him with the serpentine beast struck too close to home for Draco. Before he could open his mouth to hex the offending git across the room, a shaky hand was raised towards him in a silent plea for him to stop. Draco's wand slowly lowered as his eyes shifted back to Harry.

He looked smaller somehow, sinking into the soft cushions of the sofa beneath him. One shaking hand was held upwards towards Draco in a silent motion for him to withdraw. Upon further inspection, Draco noticed the entire boy's body was shaking. Physically biting back the need to rush forward and ease the shivers which rattled the raven haired boy, he was sure he could feel the tang of blood in his mouth where his teeth bit into the soft flesh of his lower lip. Slipping his wand back into his robes, Draco tore his gaze from the boy below him who was so close he could reach out and run his fingers through that mess of hair. Turning with a dramatic flourish of robes, Draco only stopped when he was standing at the door.

"I would think Potter's friends would care more for him then to toss about accusations of the Dark Lord's plans for his demise right under his pathetically shaking form." Raising his head, he pointed his nose in the air with the highest amount of regal scrutiny. "It is not polite to speak of one's possible death in their presence. Or are Gryffindors so daft they cannot even grasp the most obvious of correct social behavior?" His mercury glare was aimed directly at the redhead Gryffindor the entire time, but then shifted to Harry. Steeling himself, he let the anger he felt for the boy's reckless actions pour into his words. "And next time you decide to take your own life, Potter, do so out of my sight." He felt the coils of fear, worry, and anger tightening in his stomach, climbing their way up his esophagus to sting at his eyes and pierce at his heart. With a slam, he left the sodding fools behind him.

Storming into his own room, Draco slammed his door shut before slumping against it allowing his head to fall against his upraised knees. A shuddering breath escaped his lips and he clenched his eyes shut. He was alive. Harry was alive. And he pushed down all deeper thoughts behind the fear which shuddered through his frame at the thought of losing the Gryffindor boy. He didn't care. No, not like that. Yet he couldn't bring himself to uncurl from his place on the floor as the shudders of withheld emotion tore through him.

Back in Hermione's room, Harry swallowed past the heaviness at the back of his throat. There had been such anger in Draco's gaze but beneath it had been unsaid fear. The raw kind that threatened to tear you into pieces and leave you shaking in a corner crying for safety but too scared to let anyone close enough to help. Closing his eyes against the emotions, he fell back into the sofa as the questions began to fall from his friends' lips.

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Snape looked at the blond boy over the edge of his book. He remained sitting in the black armchair, eyes gazing into the fire which burned in the hearth. Without so much as a word, Snape turned his attention back to his book. This was the third night in a row that his godson had paid him a nightly visit, only to sit in that same armchair and stare into the fire. His silence worried the dark haired professor; he was used to an enraged Draco storming about the room and throwing things, but this silent boy who stared into the flames with a firm jaw set into place holding back his emotions puzzled him.

The pattern continued as such for another three days before he realized what that stiff profile was telling him. Draco gazed into the flames because it gave him a reason for the moisture that gathered at the corners of his eyes. His mouth was tightly drawn in a firm line because it threatened to betray him, twisting downwards into a painful shaking of lips and teeth. And if that hadn't told him what he needed to know, the way he had caught the boy desperately catching glimpses of Potter throughout his Potions class would have spelled it out for anyone who had both eyes and a brain. Which was precisely why the issue had to be addressed.

Closing his book, Severus shut his eyes as he prepared for the conversation which was about to take place. He detested large displays of emotion- mainly because he did not know how to handle them. Undoubtedly, there would be such things pouring forth from the blond boy in moments. Steeling himself for it, his voice was casual when he asked, "What happened between you and Potter?"

Draco was jerked from his fire-gazing by the sudden inquiry. His throat worked at swallowing past the lump which seemed to have eternally taken up residence at the back of his throat- surely it had bought curtains and was planting a garden by now. He had tried his best to ignore the boy. He had. But he was bloody everywhere. In his classes, at breakfast, during Quidditch- no matter where Draco went there was Potter. What hurt even more than seeing Potter everywhere was the act he was forced to continue. He still had to be the snide, sneering Malfoy that everyone expected him to be; especially so after his slip in the Gryffindor lovebirds' presence. He was used to that, though, and it wasn't entirely difficult. The look in Harry's eyes... it was dead. Dead as it had been all through sixth year and the beginning of this term. The spark which had rested in those emerald orbs wasn't even roused to wake by jabs at Sirius Black. Harry Potter was gone and in his place was The Boy Who Lived.

"Nothing. I don't know what you're referring to, Sev." The Potions professor raised one eyebrow before crossing his arms over his chest. Draco met the deep black eyes, tilting his head slightly higher in a nonchalant manner. Snape only rolled his eyes.

"Draco, do not try your masks on me; I taught you practically every one." Draco's mouth turned into almost a childish pout. Blasted Sev. The boy's head fell and he stood, walking to the fireplace only to lean against it and stare into the fire once more. He felt the heat of the flames but it did not register further than a physical manifestation of warmth; this did not reach his core. Inside, Draco felt as cold as the glaciers reflected in his eyes.

"I take it there haven't been any more... private sessions... between you and Potter." The Potions professor did not wish to hear of such things but knew the remark's effect on Draco. Snape closed his eyes against the crash of objects which once rested atop the fireplace. Ah, there went his grandfather's antique clock. He watched as said clock clattered against the stone wall, shattering the face and breaking off one of the arms. A warped sort of smile flickered on the professor's mouth. Surely his grandfather was rolling over in his grave right now. Good.

"How dare you! You told me to do this! You told me to stay away from him! Well I fucking AM and it's not doing either of us a whole lot of good!" Snape rested his hands atop the book on his lap as Draco lifted a glass carved serpent statuette from the destroyed mantleplace. "They don't even care! They're letting him die and forcing him into their cursed needs and wants without giving a damn about what happens to Harry!" Snape watched as the serpent flew across the room, crashing into the opposite wall. Ah, now it was his mother's turn to roll over in her grave. "They're supposed to be his bloody friends and they watch as he dies! And because of our self-righteous Slytherin ways there's not a damnable thing I can do about it!" There was another crash as the last remnants of miscellaneous things on Snape's fireplace fell to the floor.

"What has your father told you?" Draco stilled at the question. Leave it to Snape to read through his tantrems to the heart of the problem. Draco felt his body grow weary as the adrenaline drained from his veins. It was far easier to become engraged at sodding Gryffindors and their pretentious ways of using Harry, but to reflect on his father's written words... Sinking into the plush armchair, he looked at the floor because he did not trust himself to face the other man. Draco could not allow anyone- not even Sev- to see the fear in his eyes.

"He accepted. It's to take place over Samhain." His mouth was suddenly dry, all liquid seeming to gather in his eyes determined to force a tear past his steadfast defenses. "Voldemort is willing to look past my prior actions and allow me into the precious inner circle," his voice drawled out the news as though he should be pleased to hear such things. Then in a small voice he could barely hear himself, "He's going to use me to get at Harry, isn't he?"

Snape stood, placing his book on the table near his chair piled with transcripts and various other old and weathered texts. Taking the few strides to stand in front of his godson, he looked down at the boy. Mercury looked up at him, the glaciers melted and threatening to spill forth their water. It was the first time he had seen Draco so open since the boy was eleven. He remembered when Draco had come storming into his private corridors that first day, most upset that Harry Potter had turned down his hand at friendship. Even then, the small boy knew what this meant for his future. Lucius had given him an order and it was not carried out. Draco's only chance of freedom from his father had glared at him, then stomped on the slim chance of any sort of relationship other than that of enemies.

He had tried to find a way around it; Severus did not want his godson to be branded by the Dark Lord anymore than he wanted him to care for Potter. He had hoped they would put off initiating Draco into the fold because of the boy's actions over the summer. But Draco had found out why he was being so eagerly brought into Voldemort's inner circle. Potter was not breaking fast enough for the Dark Lord's liking and the man had found another method.

"I don't want to, Sev. I hate him." Long lashes fluttered closed over the tear-filled eyes in attempts at pushing the traitorous emotions back to the locked cage where they belonged inside him. Severus knew the remark was not merely directed at the Dark Lord. No, the boy's hate was aimed directly at his father but was inextricably entwined with the desperate longing which Draco had for his Lucius' love since he was born.

Reaching one arm out, he drew the boy against him. Feeling the arms wrap about his legs, Severus was all too reminded of his own plea for help some twenty years ago. Letting his other arm drape around the boy, Draco held onto his godfather as his body began to shake.

There was no going back. To protect what he claimed as his own, Draco would have to forfeit what little freedom he possessed.

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He watched the bloodied figure beneath him writhe in pain. He deserved it. He held out his wand, uttering yet another Cruciatus to throw the boy into an endless fit of convulsions.

"It should have been you." The voice was distorted. It was his own but something else. No, Harry didn't want this. Neville looked up at him, his eyes rolling about in his head as they tried in vain to focus on their destroyer. He felt sick at the sight. No! No, this had to stop! Yet the curse was cast again and again. And again. "He deserved to die, Harry. He forced you to carry the burden of the prophecy, did he not?" The voice was his own but distorted with malice. Another curse fell from those lips and Harry tried with all his strength to stop it.

The scene shifted and he was in the cupboard under the stairs. Panic gripped him like a vice, causing his heart to pound in his small chest. His body was that of a seven year old, eyes large as they tried to focus in the black abyss. There was shouting outside. In the hall.

"The boy is no longer here! He is out of our care!" Harry scrambled into the corner, clutching at the torn and ragged blanket which smelled of mothballs. There were screams and the brighest of green lights illuminated the hall outside, filtering into his cupboard to highlight the whites of his terrified eyes. He was next. The green light was coming for him and he couldn't bear it. No, he couldn't.

His forehead exploded in white hot pain as the door to the cupboard was torn from its hinges. The tall silouette was unrecognizable at first but then the mercury eyes came into focus, the platinum blond strands of hair blowing in an invisible breeze.

"Harry..." Harry darted forward from the cupboard, his body returned to its current seventeen year old appearance.

"Draco!" Wrapping his arms about the boy, he sobbed into his shoulder. Arms tightened around his back and Harry froze. It wasn't Draco... this wasn't the blond Slytherin. Pulling back from the embrace, he was greeted by the young vision of Tom Riddle, red eyes piercing through Harry's core.

"Hello, Harry." Screaming, his mouth was covered by Tom's and his entire body wrenched in pain as his soul fought desperately to remain in its home. Teeth bit down on Harry's mouth as a long, snake-like tongue forced its way down his throat.

He screamed through it all.

Harry bolted up in bed, sweat soaked through his thin t-shirt. The scar on his chest ached terribly while his old familiar one burned with a ferocity which threatened to rip apart his skull. Nausea ran over him as the sensation of the tongue tainted his mind. Slipping from bed, Harry ran from the room and into the communal bathrooms, collapsing next to a toilet as he vomited until stomach acid burned the lining of his throat.

Stumbling to the sink, Harry fumbled for toothpaste and his brush. Hefting a considerable amount of the minty paste onto the brush, he roughly scrubbed at his teeth and tongue in an effort to rid himself of the taste from the dream. When he spat the third time, blood mixed with the saliva and paste. With a shaky hand, Harry washed the brush and placed it back in its holder. Holding himself upright by gripping both sides of the sink, he solemnly lifted his head to face himself in the mirror.

His eyes were sunken deep into his face, bags of lost sleep hanging heavily from their murky depths. All the color had drained from his complexion and he was sure he could give Malfoy a run for his money on the deathly palor award. The thought of Malfoy only reminded him of the dream and the terrible way in which said person had been avoiding him lately if not for taunting and teasing. His eyes fell closed as the energy drained from his body. Heading to the showers, he knew he had a fair amount of time before the others would be waking for breakfast. Plenty of time to wash away thoughts of Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy. At least so he hoped.

When Harry slowly descended the staircase into the common room, three heads turned and three voices stopped. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he prepared for another day. Apparently, they hadn't been sleeping long enough for Harry to be safe.

"'arry, mate, are ya feelin' a'righ'?" He nodded to Seamus' inquiry on his behalf.

"Bad dream. Made me a bit sick. I feel better now." He fixed all three with a look that dared them to ask any further questions. Neither Seamus nor Dean knew about his cutting- Hermione and Ron had been good enough to keep it to themselves. But they had insisted upon keeping their friendship alive and to be more considerate of Harry's feelings as they put it- he merely felt as though he was being watched all the time, expected to suddenly snap and off himself. He hadn't meant to cut that deep; he never wanted to truly kill himself. His responsibility to the prophecy and his duty would never allow Harry to take his own life. The cuts were just his way of ensuring his existence. He couldn't feel anymore and the only time he possibly did was when it was proven to himself that blood did pulse through his veins and his heart was, indeed, still beating. Unfortunately, they didn't see it that way and wouldn't allow it.

He entered the Great Hall and winced at the noise level. Because of their insistence on being with Harry all the time, he was rarely left alone anymore. It was nearly driving him mad. Despite himself, Harry's eyes scanned the Slytherin table until finding the familiar blond head. He wasn't helping. Harry didn't know why for the life of him that Draco Malfoy of all people made him, well, FEEL. It must be some cruel twist of fate. He decided he bloody well loathed fate.

"Did that cereal do anything particularly nasty or are they just offensive to look at?" His gaze lifted to meet Ginny's sly smile. Shoulders sagging, Harry shook his head and prodded them further sending small splashes of milk onto the table.

"It exists." She nodded in mock understanding before returning to her own bowl, glancing at him occasionally out of the corner of her eye. Forcing a spoonful down, then another, Harry stared across the hall. His eyes naturally went to Malfoy and he paused in his ritualistic raising of the spoon when he saw Blaise lean closer to the boy. Draco lifted his brows as though vaguely amused but Harry swore he caught a fleeting glimpse of pain in those icy eyes. As though feeling the weight of his gaze, those same eyes focused on Harry's.

It had been two weeks since Draco had brought him to Hermione and Ron. Two weeks since he had felt the light caress against his face or the soft words breathed into his ear. Harry tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes, refusing to be the first to look away. Two weeks of nightmares involving the Slytherin, some of his death and some of his betrayal. But all involving him in some way. Harry didn't know what to make of it and wasn't sure he wanted to think strongly on the issue. His heart had betrayed him in even thinking for a moment that something could possibly have happened between he and Malfoy.

Their staring contest was cut short by Dumbledore's voice drifting loudly throughout the dining hall. Jerking his gaze from the mercury depths, Harry focused on the Headmaster who was now standing at the head table in preparation for some announcement of sorts, no doubt.

"Attention, attention. I am happy to announce that there will be a special celebration for seventh years in light of Samhain. As many of you know," his gaze drifted to Harry who remembered some vague importance of Halloween but did not remember exactly what said holiday truly meant, "Samhain is the traditional celebration of a new year for witches and wizards alike. Most do not truly celebrate Samhain until they are adults thus being the reason this celebration is for only seventh years. There will be a dance and bonfire, weather allowing." There was a twinkle in the old man's eye which said no matter what the weather chose, it would be a fair day for the celebration. "That is all. Have a splendid day of classes!" The hall returned to its usual noise level as many seventh years excitedly chattered about the approaching celebration.

When Harry looked back at the Slytherin table, Draco was gone.

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"I can't believe we're going to have an actual Samhain initiation! I know the current affairs are dire but for Dumbledore to schedule such an ancient tradition..." Harry raised one hand in question as though in class. Glancing over at Ron, Harry's expression was one of complete confusion.

"Wait, Hermione. Ron, do you know what she's talking about? It's just a dance; what's this about initiating anyone into anything?" Both Hermione and Ron shared a look of mutual knowledge. Harry wanted to thrattle the both of them. They paused on their way to Advanced Care of Magical Creatures which still took place near the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's old home. They had gotten a new teacher this year who seemed to have a darker interest in creatures- so far they had already learned about Red Caps and Cocktrice- which nearly had resulted in a student's death.

"Well, you see, mate, it's sort of..."

"Samhain is a traditional celebration of a new year for witches and wizards, yes; but it also has been used for initiation ceremonies into adulthood which is why it is only seventh years participating." Hermione pushed back strands of loose hair which blew in front of her face as they neared the forest. "When a witch or wizard turns seventeen, they are regarded as an adult in the community. Their decisions are no longer taken as that of a child. This is why we are allowed to learn to apparate and use magic freely now." Harry stopped abruptly, causing the other two to falter and wait for him.

"How does this pertain to 'current affairs'? You can just say it's in connection to the war, you know," Harry voice dripped with sarcasm. He hated how they danced around the topic now, treating him as through he was a mere child. He bloody well knew what was going on and deserved to be treated as their equal. Hermione's eyes lowered as though realizing how she had been treating Harry before looking back at him, the same flash of intellect in their depths.

"At muggle New Year's, there are promises made and resolutions planned. Such an act derived from the rituals of Samhain. It's odd for the ceremony to take place since it hasn't been done for several hundreds of years. It was mostly used when our world was in constant war with both muggles and wizards alike," Hermione's voice tapered off and she averted her gaze from Harry. "If one makes a promise on Samhain... in the ritualistic manner... then that promise is bound by magic to be held true, Harry." Her eyes met his once more. "Dumbledore has arranged this to see who is willing to join the Light side, and who is truly siding with You-Know-Who. He won't be doing it directly, but if the tradition takes place and the proper spells are cast in honor of innate magic and the earth... any pacts will be sealed not only by word but by magic as well."

The three of them stood still for what seemed like an eternity as the words sank in. Dumbledore was recruiting future members of the Order. The war had reached such a high scale that they needed to dip into Hogwarts' students before they even had time to think about where they truly wished their lives to lead. Ron mumbled something about being late for class and the three of them continued the walk towards the clearing. Was that why Malfoy had gone missing immediately after the Headmaster's announcement? Why was it that more and more people were being drawn into the fight? Because this is war, Harry, and you weren't able to kill him when you had the chance.

Professor Jeunvie was waiting for them, giving a small vial to each of the students as they arrived. Ron looked at the vial in question before glancing back at the professor. "I think he's trying to kill us this time." Harry faltered in his steps when he saw what was in the clearing. The black beast beat its wings, fluttering in the wind as it glanced about the clearing at the students filing into a self-made circle.

"No, Ron, he seems to have made something so you can see the thestral." Ron's mouth opened in confusion but he was cut off by the tall professor who was rumored to be half-Veela. What was with Care of Magical Creatures professors being part magical creature themselves?

"You are all to drink the vial I have given you in order to work with the creature I have arranged for us to study today. Its effects will fade after the hour, so do drink them. Quickly now, we haven't all day." Harry regarded the silvery liquid before returning it to the small table set aside for all the empty vials, the shimmering potion still inside. The professor regarded Harry with one eyebrow cocked before facing the class once more. "Some of you may already have seen these creatures pulling the carriages every year- they are called thestrals."

Harry tuned out the professor's words and watched as the thestral pawed at the ground. It seemed agitated, anxious. There was only the one so perhaps it was wondering where the others were? Harry wasn't sure why, but he didn't like the temperament of the beast. Several students gasped as the potion seemed to come into effect. This only caused the thestral to paw even more fervently at the ground.

"Professor Jeunvie..." The man ignored him, instead continuing in his lecture on the history behind thestrals and their typical uses. Harry watched as the wings beat against its side, its head shaking in anger. Before Harry could warn the professor of the creature's growing agitation, a billowing figure swooped forward from the trees in the forest. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his first panicked thought that dementors were on school grounds and he couldn't project his patronus. However, the familiar cry of his mother never rang in his ears. Upon further inspection, he realized that the cloaked figure resembled a dementor in the sense that it billowed as it hovered above the ground but was not rotting as the dementors were. No, this creature had no flesh at all and the empty sockets of its skull gazed at Harry once it realized it was being watched.

"Harry, mate, are you alright? I know it's a mighty scary looking creature, but it's not doing much more than paw the ground." His emerald gaze locked with the empty one, Harry's breath caught in his throat as the creature moved forward to stand near the thestral. His hand moved for his wand but stopped upon the wooden weapon. The creature stopped and instead was stroking the thestral, easing it into submission. "Harry?"

"What?" Jerked from the skull's gaze, he noticed that now both Ron and Hermione were studying him with worry in their eyes. "Sorry. Sorry, I was spacing out. It's nothing." Ron nodded, going back to jotting notes on Professor Jeunvie's lecture. Hermione gave him one last skeptical look before she too returned her attention to the lecture at hand. Shuffling in his bag for his own parchment, he scrambled for a quill as the professors final words reached his ears.

"Lastly, thestrals can only be calmed and fully taimed by one thing since they are creatures of the dead- death itself. Death has many different names and is actually one of the most elusive of magical creatures. Muggles whom have caught a glimpse of them refer to the beings as 'grim reapers'. Not much is known about them but that they are highly intelligent and can only be seen by those who have brutally taken another's life by their own hands, in respect aligning themselves with the creature." Harry's hand froze, his gaze once again meeting that of the skull beneath the dark hood. "Now if you will line up, we can get a closer look..." The words trailed off in Harry's ears. Death nodded at Harry. And Harry nodded back.

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Draco lounged on the lush black sofa, arms propping his head up as he watched Blaise nervously examine things about the room. Pansy sat in an armchair, legs crossed properly but her fidgeting and biting of her nails gave away her worry. The only sounds were of Blaise's feet slapping against the stone floor and Pansy's occasional bite of a particularly offensive nail. Draco could almost drift off to sleep...

"What are we supposed to do? Doesn't Dumbledore realize what his so-called party means for Slytherins? This is going to cause an all-out war amongst us." Blaise dropped into the empty armchair between Pansy and Draco, covering his eyes with one hand. "I can't bloody believe it. He doesn't give a fucking damn about us."

"Blaise, do calm yourself. I doubt the precious Headmaster will outrightly cause us to swear our loyalty to either side- even he's not that daft. More likely than not this is just a dramatic act for the Dark Lord, to show that Dumbledore has those on his side willing to throw away their useless lives." Pansy paused in her chewing as she regarded Draco lying on the sofa. His face was a perfect mask of indifference and body positioned into that of utter nonchalance. She exchanged a look with Blaise. The dark haired Slytherin furrowed his brows and nodded in Draco's direction. Something was up.

"Draco, love, have you heard from your father as of late?" The ice in his eyes was the coldest she ever had seen, sending a shiver of fear up her spine despite herself. Keeping her head lifted in question, Pansy refused to back down from Draco's icy gaze.

"And why, Pansy dear, would you like to know of my father?" His eyes bore directly into hers until the girl looked away with several blinks of her long lashes.

"We'd just like to know what's going on. Obviously something's happened and-" Blaise was cut off by Draco suddenly standing with a flourish of robes. The Malfoy heir marched across the room, stopping in front of the fireplace. He seemed to stare at the elaborate snake which wound its way about the mantel before turning to face them.

With a shrug made to appear casual as possible, Draco's voice was his usual drawl when he spoke. "I've decided to join the winning side. Afterall, it's what my father expects of me and I do so hate losing." His stomach did a little lurch and he felt as though he would vomit right then and there. There was less than a month before Samhain. Less than a month before he would meet those wretched red eyes and forked tongue again.

"Draco, what in all the seven hells do you mean by that?! You wouldn't- Vincent gave his life-!"

"I fucking well know that, Blaise, or have you forgotten that I was the one who received his remaining limb?" His body was shaking now and he forced it into submission. There was no other way for him than this. He would not allow for Potter to save him, to take Draco as another charity case and burden on his shoulders. Potter was his and he was going to make sure no one else touched the boy.

"This has to do with Potter, doesn't it?" Gods, he hated Pansy and her rational thinking. Blaise gaped in utter confusion, not savvy to Draco's infatuation with said Grffyindor. He glared at Pansy but his eyes did not hold the icy gaze when Lucius was mentioned. Instead, this was the aggravated glare of anger at having been seen through so clearly. A twisted sort of smile graced Pansy's glossy lips. "You've fallen haven't you, Draco? Whatever could he have done to possess you this greatly?"

"We're going to be late for Potions," Draco growled as a sign that this topic of conversation was over. Pansy had been the one who had told him to protect what was his but he supposed she hadn't expected him to take her suggestion this far. Blaise shook his head, rising to stand near Draco. Before the blond Slytherin could do so much as move, he found himself embraced by the boy.

"Don't you dare get yourself killed, Drake." The familiar lump in his throat made itself known and Draco pulled out of the embrace coldly. He was never hugged; not since he was a young, young boy and even then it had been mere cold displays of affection in the presence of others by his mother. Shrugging his usual indifference into place, his lips formed their familiar smirk.

"Well, of course." The moment was over, whatever it had been. Pansy still sat in the armchair, her gaze faroff in thought before she was pulled back to reality by Blaise calling for her to follow them to Potions.

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"Harry's going on a date with Cho!"

"Ron, it's not..."

"Really, 'arry? Brilliant! She's certainly jus' as attractive as in fifth year!"

"Yeah, I suppose so but..."

"Looking at getting yourself shagged finally, eh Potter? Whatever will Loony have to say about that?" All three Gryffindors glared at the Slytherin who stood at their table, sneer upon his lips as he spoke.

"Not as though you would know the first thing about it, Malfoy." Draco laughed, a liquid smooth sort of sick amusement shimmering off the glaciers in his eyes. This only caused Ron's angry flush to flare even further, rivaling his hair at the moment.

"Surely you and the Mudblood could fill me in on all the sordid details. Oh no, wait. That's right you haven't seen so much as a light snog, have you Weasel?" Looking over at Hermione who was taking growing interest in the conversation at their table, Malfoy's lip curled in disgust. "Thank Merlin for that. I'm surprised you can even manage to get yourself that far with the likes of her." Ron's fist clenched tight and he jerked forward from his bent position at the front of the table. Before the redhead could come into physical range of Malfoy, Harry stood from his seat and took the few steps to place him between Ron and Draco.

"Sod off, Malfoy." The two boys were so close their heat intermingled and Draco couldn't help the little skipped beat his heart took at the proximity of those emerald eyes. Those eyes which held something deep within them akin to their old familiar spark.

"Gladly, Potter. Willing to help?" The words were whispered for only Harry's ears. The boy's mouth fell open slightly before he bit down on his lower lip. Draco suppressed a groan at the act, all too clearly feeling his body respond to Harry's movements. It had been so long since he had felt those lips pressed tightly against his own, that body writhing under his touch. He was a hormonal teenage boy in his prime, afterall.

"Potter. Malfoy. Take your seats immediately." The cold, sneering voice jerked Draco from his gaze on the boy and he backed away from the Gryffindor table to his own near Blaise. "Ten points from Gryffindor for causing disruption in class." All three boys opened their mouths in unspoken angry pleas before taking their respective seats. If they had learned anything in Potions these past seven years was that there was no arguing with the slimy git of a professor concerning the unfair deduction of house points. It only led to more.

"Now that I have your attention," Snape's sour expression lowered on Harry. The Gryffindor merely shrugged, taking out both parchment and a quill for the inevitable amount of notes to be written-not understood in the least, mind you. "We will be brewing a series of very complex potions in the following weeks of which I do not expect many of you to grasp. However, if you would so wish to pass your N.E.W.T.s, you best devote your every waking moment to the complete and utter comprehension of these potions before you." There were several groans from students- predominantly from Gryffindors but not limited to their house alone. It seemed the Slytherins were not looking forward to the upcoming weeks as well. Snape glowered at those who dared to audibly groan before a sick sort of smile graced his expression causing a ripple of utmost fear through the students before him.

"I will be choosing your partners for these upcoming weeks as well, seeing as how if you side with the same person of your given experience, it won't help you in the least." Harry inevitably knew where this was leading and closed his eyes when his own name was called, followed by the typical person Snape would pair him with in order to ensure the boy had as hard a time as possible- no pun intended. Harry was sure the Potions professor didn't know anything about what had happened between him and Draco, not as though the heated snog had led to anything of actual importance.

When Snape recited the list of partners he felt both the glares of Draco and Potter on him. And smiled.
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One That Stood Alone