Drabble: First Intermission
SPW chapter listing

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PART II: THE FOUNDATIONS UNDER THEM

Chapter 6: Progress

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Darkness surrounded him on all sides, pressing in on his face, chest and legs. Through the murkiness of his vision, Harry could barely make out the walls of a narrow tunnel. The only light source was a pale apparition that floated several feet ahead of him, at the very farthest reach of his sight. It appeared weightless, hung in the nothingness before his eyes.

Harry knew the light was leading him, but although he hurried to catch up, it stayed always just beyond his reach. The faster he moved, the faster the form moved ahead; soon Harry was running, his pounding feet echoing in the darkness so that they sounded like another's footfalls had joined his.

The glowing must have been increasing for several minutes before Harry became aware that he could see a bit more of his surroundings, infused with the orange light of embers or fire. The tunnel was opening into a vast cavern where dark, robed silhouettes moved silently about. Harry stumbled into a slower pace as he began to make out a robe hanging below the light that guided him; eventually, he came to realise he'd been following the back of Draco's head all along.

At the very moment that Harry recognised his companion, Draco turned to face him, smiling in a way that turned the marrow of Harry's bones to ice.

"Have you met my mother's cousin?" Draco asked, showing very straight, white teeth.

His arm swept out, and when he drew it in again, an emaciated figure with long, matted hair and hollow eyes crouched there.

Harry probably wouldn't have recognised his godfather if it hadn't been for all those posters, back when he'd escaped from Azkaban.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted, falling to his knees before the ruined figure. "Sirius, what happened to you? Why do you look like this again?"

Sirius smiled brightly, and Harry had the odd sensation of seeing the sickly and healthy versions of the familiar face superimposed.

"Sirius," he asked, "have you seen Mum and Dad? Will I get to be with you all when ... when I die? Will I ever get to meet my family?"

Sirius glanced at Draco, whom Harry had temporarily forgotten in the shock of seeing his godfather again. Draco raised a single eyebrow at both of them, but gave no other sign.

When Sirius opened his mouth to reply, Harry saw with a shock that in place of a tongue, a dancing flame flickered from between the yellowed teeth. With a voice that rasped from disuse, but carried a jovial cadence, Sirius began to speak:

"S'io credessi che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria senza più scosse.
Ma per cìo che giammai di questo fondo
non tornò viva alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo."

Despite Harry's obvious bewilderment, Sirius paused only briefly before opening his mouth as though to continue. He seemed to change his mind at the last moment, however, and transformed instead into his dog form.

He pounced on Harry, knocking him onto his back. While Harry lay winded, Padfoot fixed him with a clear-eyed stare for a moment, gave a very definite wink, then bounded off into the darkness.

Harry looked to Draco in pleading confusion as he struggled to his feet, brushing himself off. Draco only shrugged.

"Dead people," he said with an amused shake of his head. "Who can understand them?"

He glanced at Harry, taking in every nuance of his posture in an instant. Harry's perplexity didn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

"Shall we go then?" Draco asked, as though they were simply running a bit late for a cocktail party.

"Where - ?" began Harry, but Draco cut him off.

"Don't ask," he answered quickly, but not without a measure of indulgent patience. "Follow me."

Before leaving, Harry looked back over his shoulder to spot a second exit, which lead to a large, brightly lit atrium. Harry could see part-way into the room, which was dominated by an enormous golden statue of a man; around the figure's ankles wound a trio of elegantly dressed young women, who appeared to be admiring its arse.

In the middle of the cavern, near the source of light, Padfoot was worrying at the fleas on his haunches with his teeth. A cat who looked remarkably like Crookshanks lay curled against him, purring.

Harry shook his head, convinced he'd gone mad, but ran to catch up with Draco's disappearing halo rather than risk being left behind.

"Draco, what did Sirius say to me?" Harry asked his guide. "And what else was he about to say? There was more, wasn't there?"

When Draco didn't respond, Harry pressed further. "You know, don't you?"

"You will understand everything in time, Harry," answered Draco without turning around.

As they moved away from the light, Harry felt the walls pressing near him again, and was sure they were in a darkened tunnel again. The ceiling began to dip, as well, and the pair were forced to crouch as they made their way A yellowish smoke oozed from the ground, wrapping around their legs.

"You know what he means to me, too. I know you do," persisted Harry, still concerned about his godfather.

"I will in time," Draco said again, stopping to prop himself against a wall.

Harry stopped, facing him. "What is all this about, anyway?"

Draco merely stared at him, without answering. After several long moments had passed, he turned and continued walking.

Something struck against Harry's foot, and he bent to pick it up. It was a pomegranate, fresh and ripe. Harry's mouth began to water simply from looking at it; he was suddenly ravenous. He cracked the fruit against a wall, breaking it open to reveal the glistening red gems inside.

Before Harry could eat a single seed, Draco plucked the pieces from his hands and threw it far behind them.

"There will be time to eat, as well, but you shouldn't take anything from here."

Harry stayed his steps, exhausted and frustrated, but soon had to jog to catch up with Draco again.

With each step, he felt he heard voices echoing from the walls, speaking of destiny and sin, murder and the end of Harry's reason for existence. He felt the eyes of friends and enemies alike watching him, and not for the first time, wondered what the point had been of him surviving the final battle. He thought of how he should have died in combat, so that he could have rejoined his family and found out what had happened to Sirius. Instead, he was stranded in the land of the living.

These final thoughts seemed to sound aloud in Harry's own voice, but behind the words, he heard the echoing of the sea, and smelled salt in the air. It reminded him of the shack where the Dursleys had taken him on his eleventh birthday, trying to hide from the Owl Post. But the Dursleys weren't the kind of family Harry wished to rejoin.

The floor of the tunnel was rising slowly, and Harry felt the air growing fresher around him. The sounds and smells faded until they were replaced with the smell of cold, damp stone and the sound of lightly dripping water. The tunnel became a stone corridor, which opened into a brightly lit room with a neatly swept stone floor and five four-poster beds, all hung with deep green, velvet hangings. A plush, green rug lay on the ground.

Draco sprawled on his bed, the one closest to the fire, gesturing casually at a tray on the bedside cabinet. "Tea and biscuits?" he offered, relaxing languidly into the mattress.

Harry accepted the food hungrily, and found it gone before he could remember eating it, but somehow knew he must have consumed it.

"Do you know what I like about you, Harry?" asked Draco suddenly, making Harry almost drop his cup. Before he could blink, he found the entire service had disappeared.

"So you do like me, then?"

"Of course I like you, Harry, don't be stupid."

"But you said, in your letter, you said it was a hex, that you hadn't meant to kiss me ..."

Harry knew he would normally never have said any of these things, but here in Draco's dormitory, by the soft light of the fire, he couldn't stop his thoughts from flowing out of his mouth, until he realised how Draco was looking at him.

"That is not what I meant, at all," said Draco cryptically, settling a pillow by his head. "That is not it, at all."

Before Harry could work out which part Draco hadn't meant - that he'd been under a hex, or that he liked Harry in a more-than-friendly way - a rustling by the door caught his eye. Peter Pettigrew was standing there, holding the Invisibility Cloak open, as if for Harry to put it on. He was snickering unpleasantly, and it made chills run up and down Harry's spine.

"There's no sense in wearing that, you know," said Draco, but when Harry turned to look at him, Draco was wearing Professor Trelawney's thick spectacles and many-coloured shawls. "You can't hide from your destiny. You can't hide from what you did."

He pointed toward Pettigrew, and Harry knew he didn't want to look, but his eyes were pulled around as if by a will greater than his own. When his gaze finally returned to Wormtail, he saw the small man lifting a bundle from behind the Cloak, which Harry was sure contained the perversion of a creature he'd seen in Little Hangleton.

Wormtail gave Harry a hideous smile, making him want to run from the room, screaming. What he did instead, helplessly, was to move toward the snivelling man and peer at the tiny bundle.

Harry gasped in shock at the sight he beheld: instead of Voldemort's half-living form, the wrappings contained a baby, about the age Harry had been when his parents had been betrayed and murdered. Without thinking, he accepted the bundle into his arms. It weighed far more, and yet somehow less, than he'd expected.

The baby opened its striking, silver eyes and looked very directly at Harry. It seemed to know who he was, and reached out its left hand to touch his face.

When it opened its mouth, it spoke in a voice as clear as the ringing of a tiny silver bell, with a command of language far beyond its apparent years. Harry saw that Wormtail cringed with pain at the sound, and seemed to grow dim behind the pale glow that emanated from the child.

"Have you done all you could?" it asked, but before Harry could respond, a white light began to shine from its forearm, engulfing Harry, Wormtail, Draco and the entire room in brightness. As the light passed through his body, Harry felt renewed in a way he hadn't felt in years.

The bundle lost its weight and seemed to float up and disappear, and as it did, the light became even more blinding, until Harry had to close his eyes. The last thing he remembered thinking as the room dissolved around him was that he hadn't heard the answer to Draco's question.

When the light faded, Harry saw that he stood in the middle of a ballroom, surrounded by dancing couples. Draco (now in his own robes again) faced him stiffly, seeming very aware of the eyes of everyone else nearby.

As Harry watched, a rejuvenated Sirius waltzed by with Narcissa, laughing and chatting. He passed back a moment later, now dancing with Remus. The couple changed direction, moving close enough for Harry to hear his godfather say:

"Death is like life, Harry - it's what you make of it."

It was around that same time that Harry noticed the ballroom floor was made of ice; in fact, it was built on the frozen surface of the Lake, and all of the couples were dancing on skates. Some part of his brain protested that it was May, but it was too faint for him to pay it much attention.

Light danced in Sirius's eyes as he dipped Remus low toward the ice and kissed him deeply, then spun him around into an upright position and both glided away again.

Harry's followed them with his eyes until he spotted the golden statue he'd seen before, only now he recognised it as having Seamus's face. The three women still at its feet were now revealed to be Pansy Parkinson, Morag MacDougal and Millicent Bulstrode, apparently aware and yet completely unperturbed by the stories he always told about them at meals. Millicent caught Harry looking at them and dropped him a very lascivious wink.

Hermione and Ron spun past at that same moment, so quickly Harry barely saw them, but he did hear Hermione whisper, "Just be careful, okay, Harry?"

No sooner had she spoken, then Harry felt the ice under his feet begin to melt.

"Do you understand now, Harry?" asked Draco, who was still standing there in front of him. Lucius had appeared behind his son's shoulder, looking stern and displeased.

"No, I don't understand," answered Harry distractedly as the water seeping into his shoes made him start to panic. "Help me, Draco. I need help!"

"You'll understand when you're ready," replied Draco, and began to turn away. His father's hand was on his shoulder, ready to guide him.

"I need help now, Draco!" protested Harry in panic, as cracks began to form under his weight. He reached out his arm, as though for a handshake, or in a plea for rescue.

Draco turned back to face Harry fully, but stood stiffly, watching him sink into the hole that opened in the ice. In the last moment before the water closed over Harry's head, Draco began to speak: "I don't know how you plan to go about it," he said, "but I'll let you work it out."

Harry tried to respond, but spluttered when he opened his mouth and found he couldn't breathe. From beneath the water, he could hear a distant song:

In waters deep our voices sound,
where trespassers are rarely found.
'Tis each-to-each we sing, and yet
our audience will not soon forget.
For though 'tis not for him we call
our voices may his mind enthrall.
He'd do well to remember this:
he still has what he'd sorely miss.

The darkness was closing in. He couldn't breathe. No one was helping him; he could still see Draco's and Lucius's pale outlines above the surface, standing over the place where he'd sunk.

"Harry!"

Ron's face loomed up before him in the water, pale and frightened.

"Harry!!"

Harry started awake with a giant gasp for air, sitting up so suddenly he clunked heads with Ron, who was gripping both of his shoulders and shaking him vigorously.

"Are you alright, mate?" asked Ron, clutching his forehead in pain. "You were yelling and thrashing about in your sleep!"

"Wha - Ron?" Harry stammered breathlessly.

In a second, relief washed over Harry, and he threw his arms around his best mate like a drowning man to his saviour. "Oh, Ron, thank Merlin."

Ron patted him on the back awkwardly, looking completely confused. "It's alright, Harry," he murmured through his shock at Harry's reaction. "You're going to be alright."

As all the details of the dream came flooding back to him, Harry could only hope Ron's words were true.

***

Breakfast on Monday morning went about as well as could be expected.

Ron had obviously told Hermione all about waking Harry from his nightmare, so Hermione spent the entire meal alternately shooting Harry concerned looks and asking him probing questions about the stress he'd been experiencing lately. Harry understood completely why his nightmares would be of concern to his friends, but that really didn't give him any more patience for it.

Anyway, it hadn't precisely been a nightmare. It had mostly only been a very odd dream, that happened to have a terrifying ending.

Harry stole another glance over toward the Slytherin table. He'd been trying to catch Draco's eye ever since he'd arrived in the Great Hall, but an initial setback had caused Draco to avoid Harry's gaze.

Harry had walked into the Great Hall that morning with every intention of greeting Draco by name as he passed the Slytherin table. He had even sort of gone over the moment in his head, imagining how he would show his new friend that he was completely comfortable with their new rapport, while simultaneously demonstrating to the other Slytherins that he didn't care one snit what they thought about it.

When confronted with the reality, however, he had balked at seeing Draco surrounded by his usual crowd, feeling the animosity oozing from every student except one, and had scurried off to his own table without so much as a nod.

How did he 'plan to go about it?'

Harry was still thinking about all of this as the N.E.W.T. Potions class made their way down to the dungeons after breakfast.

"Look at them." Ron's bitter grunt interrupted Harry's train of thought.

Harry followed his best friend's eyes to spot Hermione walking along several paces ahead with Goyle, deep in animated discussion. "I can't believe she actually talks to that... that Slytherin."

"Goyle's not so bad, Ron," replied Harry distantly.

Ron rounded on him suddenly. Due to his four-inch advantage in height and broad, muscular shoulders, Harry actually felt threatened for a fleeting instant.

"How can you even say that!?" Ron demanded. "This is Goyle, one of Malfoy's idiot cronies, and Hermione's working with him!"

Harry bit back a comment in Draco's defence, knowing that would only inflame Ron's temper further, and scrambled for an alternate retort.

"It's one of the perils of the alphabet, Ron. Granger and Goyle," Harry pointed out at last, his heart-rate slowly returning to normal. "And besides, you and Zabini seem to be getting along fine."

"That's because Zabini isn't a total prat," protested Ron. "He just shows up and does the work. I mean, he's never done anything to us. And at least he has half a brain."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you might actually like your Potions partner."

Ron scoffed. "I'm just saying he's better than Goyle. How can Hermione be willing to work with him?"

"Relax, Ron," Harry reassured him. "Hermione's just taking her schoolwork seriously, the same way she always has."

By now, they were passing into the classroom. Ron looked about to add another protest, but stopped when his eyes rested on Draco.

"At least I don't have your partner," he said, loudly enough for all to hear. "I don't know how you put up with that git, Harry. Snape must really hate you."

Harry smiled sickly, averting his eyes from both of them as he took his seat. Satisfied with his remark, Ron headed off to sit next to Blaise Zabini in the back of the room.

Draco's eyes remained on Harry as he unpacked his textbook and cauldron. Feeling his partner's gaze, Harry turned around.

"Hi," he began, and discovered he hadn't any idea what to say next.

"Hi," responded the Slytherin, with a slightly perplexed twist to his mouth. "Are we talking in public now?"

Harry smiled shakily. "Well, that was the plan. I just wasn't sure how to start," he admitted.

"Couldn't start by getting the Weasel to shut up, I see," Draco commented wryly.

"Don't call him that," murmured Harry quickly, "and you're right, I should have. It's only ... it's a lot more complicated than I thought."

Draco gave Harry a long look. "Well, you'll work it out, I'm sure."

The words reminded Harry of his dream, and he had to force air into his lungs in order to remind himself he could breathe. Draco appeared slightly alarmed, clearly perceiving some change in Harry's eyes. He didn't have a chance to enquire as to Harry's well-being though, if indeed he had planned to do so, because Snape swept into the room at that moment with his customary glare.

The lecture began before Harry even had a chance to dip his quill in ink.

"Those of you who grew up in Muggle families have probably already heard of the cannabis plant, also known as 'hemp' or 'marijuana,'" said the Potions Master in opening.

Several of the Muggle-born and half-Muggle students sat up to attention at these words. Hermione looked moderately shocked, but not surprised, because naturally she had revised ahead of time for this lesson. Zacharias Smith smirked a little, and Hannah Abbott giggled. Harry guessed that some of his classmates might be pretty familiar with the plant. He himself had unfortunately learned to recognise the smell of its smoke in past summers, when it had wafted out of Dudley's bedroom daily.

All of the Slytherins simply looked blank.

"Apparently, it is common among certain groups of Muggles to smoke the leaves of the plant as a soporific. This use is illegal under Muggle law in all countries except the Netherlands, but nonetheless popular among younger Muggles. As we continue our study of medical potions, we must consider this plant, which is a key ingredient of a Pain-Eliminating Potion, which is indispensable in treating various types of chronic pain, in improving a suppressed appetite, in calming stress, and even in reducing tumors. The plant has so many medicinal purposes that I understand even Muggles have noticed; some of their laws allow for the smoking of cannabis by those with certain medical conditions. Wizards, however, have no need for such a filthy method of consumption."

Snape's hooked nose appeared to engulf the entire lower part of his face, as he wrinkled it in disapproval.

He continued, "The essence of cannabis, provides many of these benefits, along with the soporific effects I mentioned earlier when it is taken in its raw form. Potions Masters, along with Mediwizards, have discovered that dragon's blood will neutralize the intoxicating nature of cannabis essence while amplifying its healing qualities. Thanks to developments in this area, afflictions such as chronic pain, migraines, glaucoma and cancer are virtually nonexistent in the modern wizarding world.

"Which is why," he continued, looking around the room, "I can see from your dim expressions, that most of you have never heard of any of those conditions."

Harry noticed a few bitter expressions among the Muggle-born and half-blood students, some of whom had probably lost loved ones to cancer. Draco and the rest of the Slytherins looked unperturbed, and a bit bored.

Snape's shiny black eyes fixed on various faces around the room, all of them Gryffindors. "Now, I would like to see who has prepared adequately for this class."

Harry groaned, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"Mr. Potter!" snapped the professor. "What three other ingredients combine with cannabis leaves and dragon's blood to make a Pain-Eliminating Potion? In what ratio and in what order must the five ingredients be added to concoct a successful potion?" A predatory sneer spread across the Potions Master's face.

Harry stared at Snape, his stomach sinking into his spleen. He had planned to read the material for this lesson after finishing his Charms homework last night, but had been too distracted to complete any of it. He hadn't the slightest idea how to answer these questions.

Snape sensed the opportunity, and glided closer to his prey. "Well, Potter? Surely you wouldn't have been so foolish as to have failed to revise for today's class? By now you must know how much importance I place on proper preparation?" Harry could almost feel the fine drops of spittle from the alliterative plosives sprinkling onto his face.

Harry looked up at Snape, wincing. "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. That is to say..."

"Water, bubotuber pus, and powdered unicorn horn," came the voice from Harry's left. "To make one pint of potion, start with one and a half pints boiling water, pour over a mixture of one ounce of crushed cannabis leaves and two fluid ounces of dragon's blood, and steep for five minutes."

Snape's eyes were growing dangerously dark, but Draco kept speaking.

"Add two ounces powdered unicorn horn to the infusion while stirring quickly to ensure complete dissolution, then add seven drops of bubotuber pus at eight-second intervals. Boil the mixture in a large-mouthed cauldron until it has changed from its initial muddy brown colour to a deep magenta hue."

For several seconds, Harry imagined he could actually hear the corner of Snape's eye tick in the deadly stillness. His normally sallow complexion was demonstrating the �deep magenta hue� Draco had just mentioned.

The Potions Master's voice hissed out in a perilously quiet rasp that was nonetheless heard throughout the silent dungeon. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't remember directing any question to you at any point yet in this morning's lesson. I believe I had made it quite clear," he enunciated his consonants with the sharpness of a knife's edge as he stepped closer to his student, "that I was interested in learning how well your partner had prepared for today's class. Would you care to explain your interruption?" Snape's tone reminded Harry of a swarm of angry wasps.

Draco regarded his Head of House coolly, yet visibly conveyed respect in his manner. "Professor, it was our understanding that you had asked each pair to work together on all assignments for the remainder of the school year. Potter and I chose to divide up the work by taking turns doing the preparatory reading for each lesson, so that we could test our knowledge by teaching it to each other in class. I volunteered to go first, so it was my turn today."

A vein pulsed in Snape's forehead as his narrowed eyes flicked back and forth between his favourite student and his most hated. "Potter," he murmured threateningly, "you had better know the formula and preparation for Skele-Gro backwards, forwards, and inside-out by Thursday's lesson." The eyes narrowed yet further in Draco's direction before the professor spun around and swept back to the front of the room.

Harry could hear the entire class exhale, but he was only able to stare at his partner in open amazement. The blond kept his eyes to the front of the room, with an expression of polite interest.

"Wow, Draco," stammered Harry. "I -"

Draco cut him off with a slight shake of the head. His only acknowledgment of what he'd just done was a slight lift in the right corner of his mouth.

***

"What in the world was that about?" demanded Ron as he, Hermione and Harry walked up the stairs from the dungeons.

"Oh, Ron, be reasonable!" countered Hermione, stepping in while Harry remained mute. "I thought it was rather nice of Malfoy to stand up for Harry like that!"

"Nice? Nice!?" spluttered the incensed Weasley, "Malfoy doesn't do 'nice.' He's up to something, I just know it!"

Harry's gut twisted itself in two directions, as he longed to defend his newest friend to his oldest, but also desperately wished to avoid a scene. Furthermore, after the dream last night and his brief conversation with Draco before the lesson, Harry hadn't the slightest idea what to make of the Draco's behaviour in front of Snape.

"Ron, maybe Malfoy has simply decided to get along with his Potions partner, the same way you and I have!" Hermione insisted.

This just caused Ron to make more incoherently incensed noises, but Hermione continued:

"They're going to have to work with each other all the way until N.E.W.T.s, so Harry's work affects Malfoy's, now." She fixed her boyfriend with a piercing look. "That's why I've been working with Goyle so cooperatively, as well, of course."

Ron flushed, as usual. "Of course," he muttered, and dropped the subject.

Harry made a mental note to be extra nice to Hermione for approximately the next thousand years.

***

Tuesday morning's Owl Post still brought no response from Charlie. Harry knew it would take Hedwig a couple of days each way to get to Romania and back, and that he shouldn't expect a response until Thursday at the earliest. Still, after the dream and Draco's performance in Potions the previous day, Harry needed advice more than ever.

Charlie must have felt as frantic as this at some point! He must know how eagerly Harry awaited his response.

He would write back as quickly as he could, wouldn't he?

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table. Draco caught his eye and flashed him a mischievous smile. Harry flushed, grinned nervously, and looked away quickly.

Charlie had to write back soon. If he didn't, Harry was sure he'd go thoroughly mad.

A delighted shriek from Hermione returned Harry to his surroundings.

"Yes! She did it!"

"Who did what?" enquired Ginny immediately.

"My aunt," answered Hermione, "she got married!"

"That's great!" said Dean. "But you sound surprised ..."

"Not surprised, exactly," corrected Hermione, "only relieved she was allowed."

"Why wouldn't she be?" asked Seamus, earning himself a sharp glance from Ron for his typical bluntness.

"My aunt is gay," explained Hermione, cutting her eyes at Ron to make sure he would behave himself. "She and her girlfriend - wife, now - have been together as a couple for the last fifteen years. They've finally got married legally!"

"But Britain doesn't allow same-sex marriage," argued Ron, who knew because Charlie and Viktor were getting serious enough to consider their options.

Wizarding laws about marriage fell along roughly the same lines as those observed by Muggles. Only a few countries allowed same-sex couples to marry in either the Muggle or the wizarding community.

Hermione shook her head. "No, you're right, Ron. Emma lives in America, in Massachusetts -"

"That's where Salem is, right?" asked Harry.

A nod. �- and a new Muggle law just took effect yesterday, allowing gay couples to get married there. Emma and Persephone were the very first couple married at City Hall in Beverly, where they live.�

Hermione beamed, skimming the letter again with her eyes. �Emma�s my favourite aunt. I�m so happy for her! They�ve wanted this for so long.�

Harry drifted off again. In the few days since Harry had realised his orientation, several ramifications had hit home. He felt very grateful for the support of his friends, but knew that certain doors were probably closed to him: marriage, children... He was still far too young to be thinking too immediately about such things, anyway, but he didn't like to consider that he might never be allowed the type of family he'd wanted for so long.

When he'd been a small child, as early as he could remember, Harry used to stare into the dark of the cupboard and imagine what life with his parents would have been like. As he grew older, he'd promised himself he would do whatever he could to form the kind of family that had been stolen from him. When he had his own children, someday, he would give them a good home, and figure out how to be a happy family together.

For the past few days, Harry had been afraid that he'd unwittingly broken this promise.

Now, hearing about Hermione's aunt, Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief. He still didn't know much about relationships at all, but he was glad to know that somewhere, people like him were allowed to get married.

Hermione's aunt and her new wife must be really happy, Harry thought.

He understood a little better, now, why Hermione's response to his coming out had been so immediately positive. If she had a favourite aunt who was gay, no wonder Hermione had known exactly what to say to set Harry at ease.

"Hermione," said Ginny, "you never told me you had an aunt in America. Have you been?"

Hermione's shiny curls bobbed as she nodded. "Just once, when I was six," she confirmed. "Mostly, Emma comes to visit us. I even visited Salem, when I went, which is right next to the city of Beverly, but I didn't know I was a witch yet then."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'll bet you can't wait to go back and visit every place Binns ever talked about!"

"Well, yes..." Hermione stated without embarrassment. "I think it will be fascinating, don't you?"

Ron simply rolled his eyes again, meeting Harry's eyes and shaking his head in amusement. Harry thought Ron might not have been listening carefully enough, however, because it sounded as though -

"So then you don't want to go?" teased Hermione, causing Ron to snap to attention.

"Go? To America? Me?" Ron's jaw hung half-open in shock. "Can I?"

Hermione giggled at him. "Of course you can, Ron. Did you expect me to take someone else to the celebration as my partner?"

Harry joined in the good-natured laughter, as all the Gryffindors watched Ron twig. He couldn't help feeling a little left out, though. He and Ron and Hermione had always been an equal trio, and in most ways, they still were. Hermione and Ron were still the best friends he could imagine, and their plans always included all three of them, until now. Ron and Hermione's talk of going to America reminded Harry that he was now a bit on the outside of the couple they had become.

***

Dear Harry,

Congratulations on joining the ranks! There are actually a lot more of us gay wizards than you think, although for some reason Hogwarts has never had a very large supply. Hufflepuffs tend to be late bloomers, for one thing, and most of them don't come out until after they've left. I used to hear stories about orgies in the Slytherin dorms after hours, but those might only have been fantasies concocted by my bored dormmates.

So, you've already had a snog, have you? Congratulations again! I'm sorry to hear that things have been awkward since then, though. For what it's worth, I know that can happen for wizards who go out with witches, too. In fact, I think you learned that with Miss Chang a couple of years ago? (Yes, Ginny talks to me, too. Please forgive her for having shared a little gossip - you know how she is.)

Dear Merlin, Harry, you can't ever pick an easy battle, can you? A Malfoy? You're right - Ron will go apoplectic when he learns about it. But (and you promise not to tell him I said this!) I've seen your Draco, and I understand the attraction. I hope you're right about him. Weasleys and Malfoys haven't got on well for generations, so you'll have a tough job getting Ron to accept Draco in your life, but maybe now that the war is over, even Weasleys and Malfoys can make peace?

Now. As to what to do about his reticence: I'm afraid you're just going to have to be patient. If you're right about his feelings for you, though, you won't have to wait very long. At your age, all your emotions bubble so close to the surface, even in someone as private as you or Draco. Nurture that friendship, allow him to take the lead sometimes, and before you know it you'll find him unable to deny his feelings any longer.

And then ... I think you will find you're in for a great deal of fun. Enjoy it, and watch out for yourself. First relationships are always exciting, but they don't always last. That's just the nature of being seventeen. Just try to have fun, and value the time you have.

Harry, despite what I said earlier in this letter, I must emphasise that you're going to have a hard time with Ron on this one. He hates your Draco with the fury of a thousand poison arrows. More, even, than Dad hated Lucius when there still was a Lucius to hate. I think Ginny may be able to help you to some extent, but she's not any fonder of Draco than Ron is. With Ron, your best weapon is perseverance. He's all snap judgments and quick reactions and bluster, but if you can keep your steady course, you will eventually win him over. I have a feeling that Hermione might be able to help you there, too. Good luck.

I'm so happy that you came to me. I may already have four younger brothers by blood, but you will always be part of my family. You're also very perceptive to have noticed that I was making myself available as someone you could ask if you ever needed advice. If you ever need anything else, please don't hesitate to write.

Yours affectionately,
--Charlie Weasley

Harry rolled the parchment back up and stretched out his legs, letting the sun warm his face.

Hedwig had returned that morning at breakfast, the fourth day since Harry had sent her to Charlie. Charlie must have written his response almost immediately for the owl to have returned this quickly. Harry had allowed his bird the better part of his breakfast before she returned to the Owlery, as thanks for her long journey. He considered briefly how happy Salazar must be to see her now, causing his mouth to tease upward at the corners.

Harry had barely seen Draco since Monday's Potions lesson. They had spoken briefly after Defence Against the Dark Arts on Wednesday, but Harry had been nervous about Ron's reaction if he'd seen them having a civil conversation, which seemed to annoy Draco, so the exchange had been a bit tense. Harry wished he'd thought through this whole thing before deciding to be Draco's friend.

Once Harry had Charlie's response in his hand, his morning lessons had crawled by. At lunchtime, he'd finally got a chance to sneak away and read his letter in private. He had found a quiet corner at the foot of North Tower where the outer stones of the castle wall provided a kind of bench cradled in sunbeams. There, he had unfurled the parchment and read Charlie's words.

Harry's heart warmed at the elder Weasley's response just as his skin warmed in the sun. He had been so right to contact Charlie. Between the letter and Draco's behavior in Potions on Monday, Harry allowed himself a glimmer of hope that his one interrupted snog with the handsome Slytherin might not be his last, after all.

At the very least, he felt fortified for his next Potions lesson, which was to start in half an hour.

***

"Harry!"

He spun around to confirm that the voice that had called his first name in the corridors, in front of everyone, really belonged to the blond wizard who was striding purposefully toward him, wearing a friendly smile.

Harry knew it was already too late to keep his face from lighting up like a Lumos Charm. He also knew, however, that it wasn't too late to keep Ron from making a scene in reaction.

"All right, Draco?" Harry greeted his Potions partner before the towering redhead could block the Slytherin's path.

"All right, Harry," responded Draco, still smiling. "You? Ready for class today?"

Harry had spent two hours revising the chapter on Skele-Gro Potion in detail, and then an additional hour discussing the finer points with Hermione until he was sure he could handle any question Snape could throw his way.

"I'm ready," confirmed Harry. "Can't expect you to bail me out every lesson, now, can I?"

Draco smirked, but in an entirely new way that made Harry feel that he was in on the joke. "I could try, but I don't think Snape can be convinced more than once."

"True enough," agreed Harry. And hesitated before adding, "Thanks, Draco. For Monday."

The blond shrugged. "What are friends for?" He started to move in the direction of the classroom before his eyes cut to Ron. Draco gave a cursory nod. "Weasley."

Ron only gaped.

Draco smiled yet more broadly at Harry before turning to resume his quick stride. "Don't be late, Harry!" he called over his shoulder, as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Harry's heart skipped merrily as he watched the silver-blond hair vanish into the darkness.

Ron, meanwhile, was fuming. "What is he playing at? What does he mean by talking to me? And what does he mean by 'friends'?"

Harry avoided his best friend's eyes, as if he could wish away the inevitable confrontation.

"Harry?" Ron insisted.

"Yes, Ron?" responded Harry unwillingly.

"What. Does he mean. By 'friends'?" enunciated Ron.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He summoned the memory of how relieved he'd felt when Ron had woken him from that nightmare on Monday morning, and did his best to speak in a peaceable tone. "Draco and I have decided to be friends, Ron."

"What do you mean, 'friends'? You mean -" Ron caught himself and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You mean boyfriends? You're not going out with him now, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," muttered Harry evasively. "Draco hasn't said anything about being gay."

Which, technically, was true. More or less.

"Oh, so it's 'Draco' now -"

"Yes, it's 'Draco.' I call my friends by their first names."

Ron gaped. "You can't mean this, Harry! You can't want to be Malfoy's friend! I doubt he and his Death-Eater minions even know what it means to be a friend!"

"What does it mean to you, Ron?" snapped Harry, too angry even to respond to Ron's accusation that Draco was a Death Eater. "How about accepting your friends for who they are, including who they want their other friends to be?"

He was trying to stay calm, but his exasperation was building quickly.

"Who they want -!" spluttered Ron. "So you really do think you want to be friends with the git?"

"He's not a git anymore, Ron," sighed Harry tiredly. "You'd know that if you gave him half a chance."

"I don't want to give him half a chance, Harry. I don't want to give him any part of a chance. He's been nothing but horrible to us since our first ride on the Hogwarts Express together. Why should he be any different now?"

"Because I say that he is. Because my word should be enough for you to believe me."

Ron narrowed his eyes and stepped away. "It was until I found out how poor your judgment is," he said darkly.

Harry shifted his bookbag on his shoulder, and backed toward the Potions classroom. He tried to pretend he didn't feel as though Ron had punched him in the gut.

"Look, Ron, I'm just too tired to keep fighting," he said quietly. "Him, or you."

Having spoken the words, he turned and strode angrily away from his best mate, not stopping until he reached his seat next to Draco. He didn't look at Ron again for the entire double-period lesson.

***

Dear Charlie,

Thank you so much for writing back so fast. It really does help to hear from someone who has gone through all of this before.

I can hardly believe it, but Draco and I are already friends. He stopped me on my way to post my letter to you last weekend - come to think of it, I should have added that at the end, but I was so surprised and excited that I forgot.

It's been a mad week. First I had a very odd dream Sunday night, then Draco lied to Snape to save my arse when I wasn't prepared for class on Monday morning. Can you imagine? Then yesterday, he called me 'Harry' and said we were friends, right in the corridor before Potions, in front of everyone.

But Ron was there, and ... well, you know what happened next. I'm relieved he doesn't know how I really feel about Draco! I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but after the way he reacted to Draco and me even being friends, I think I'll put it off as long as possible, thank you!

Ron's been my best mate for years, but I really don't understand him sometimes. He's just sulky and contrary about Draco, without even any reason. I mean, okay, he has plenty of reason, considering the way Draco acted for our first five years at Hogwarts. But can't he see that he's changed? I mean, we all have - it's a different world, now that Voldemort's gone. Especially for Draco. He doesn't have parents anymore. He could use some friends now.

I suppose I'll try your advice about enlisting Ginny's and Hermione's help with Ron. I know I won't really lose Ron over this. Ron's my best friend, the first friend I ever had other than Hagrid, and nothing could make him any less important to me. I'm just afraid he'll be too angry to see that.

It's late, I'd better go to sleep. If you have any more suggestions about how to handle Ron, I could do with all the help you can give me. Otherwise, I just wanted to say thanks again. I'll keep you posted on everything.

Cheers,
--Harry

*

Opening dream sequence was based loosely around The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T. S. Eliot. Sirius's speech is the epitaph printed before the poem, and is taken from Canto XXVII of Inferno, by Dante Alighieri. The passage, as translated by Allen Mandelbaum, reads thus:

"If I thought my reply were meant for one
who ever could return into the world,
this flame would stir no more; and yet, since none -
if what I hear is true - ever returned
alive from this abyss, then without fear
of facing infamy, I answer you."

Information on medicinal uses for cannabis taken from http://www.friendlystranger.com/info/med_use.htm. The inclusion of cannabis in this chapter is in no way intended to condone the use of illegal substances; it is simply a dramatic imagination of how the scientifically-established medical properties of the plant could be used in the wizarding world.

The Human Rights Campaign's website contains a great compilation of data on marriage laws. Info on European laws used in this chapter comes from this page.

*

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