Harry was hunched over his journal once again, scribbling furiously. He had woken early from a strange dream. His occlumency got rid of external visions, and it had gone a long way toward alleviating most of his nightmares as well, but it did not stop him dreaming, and every once in a while he had one that he felt he needed to write down.

It surprised him, how much he had come to enjoy the journal in the few weeks he had had it, but it seemed that Snape and Dumbledore were right; it really was easier when he had a way to talk about some of the things he worried about without actually having to confide in someone.

He had even looked up a few extra charms to protect the slim volume, and now you not only had to speak the password to open the book, you had to know another to read any of it. As soon as he had finished with an entry the ink was absorbed into the pages and replaced with what appeared to be notes from History of Magic. The absorption part had been a little disturbing to Harry at first, but he decided that it was worth it to know that his secrets were safe. Especially the secrets that weren’t just his.

Having reached the end of the page and a sentence, Harry stopped to reflect on the dream. It had been quite odd. He was standing before the veil in the Department of Mysteries. At first he had felt pain and resignation as he waited for Sirius to step from behind it. A moment later he saw the form of his godfather once again. Harry braced himself, waiting for the accusations that he was certain would come at any moment. Instead, dream-Sirius had merely stood there looking at him for a very long time.

At last, however, he spoke. “Are you happy now, Harry?” Sirius asked. “Are you happy with Severus?” Harry just stared at him. “Are you happy?” Sirius repeated himself just before Harry had awakened with a jerk.

Was he happy? Certainly it was nice to know that he had someone to go to with problems. He liked talking to his professor on Sundays. He was attached to the man, he knew. But an alarming, new idea rose in his mind.

By being friendly with Snape, was he somehow betraying his godfather’s memory? Sirius had despised Snape, he knew. Should he really be getting this close to someone the only parent he had ever known had hated? Harry shook his head. He was so confused.

Harry sighed and looked up at the closed bed curtains. After a few minutes contemplation he decided to owl Remus. Remus had been his godfather’s best friend; surely he would be able to point Harry in the right direction.

Making a mental note to write to his former professor later, Harry turned back to his journal and began writing about the other thing that was bothering him: Malfoy. Considering that they had nearly hexed each other in the Entrance Hall at the end of last year, the blonde’s current behavior was nearly unbelievable, which brought him to his current dilemma.

Draco Malfoy was acting civil.

Draco Malfoy was not insulting Harry’s friends.

Draco Malfoy had invited Harry to go flying.

Harry really wanted to go flying.

He hadn’t been since he’d got back to school and he missed it. Ron was making an effort to make him feel included and valuable to the Quidditch team, but he wasn’t really a member and it was not the same. It struck Harry as being very odd that his enemy presented him with the opportunity he wanted when his best friend did not.

So, was he going to go flying with the ferret or not? He knew that his friends would say no, but the temptation of getting on his broom for a little friendly competition was almost unbearable. What could it hurt, really? It wasn’t against any rules, and if a teacher asked he could always say that he was trying to forward interhouse relations. Besides, if he went along with this little scheme he just might be able to figure out why Malfoy was acting the way he was.

-----

That Friday, Hermione went back to attending classes, including Potions. This was both a good thing and a bad thing in Harry’s opinion. He was, naturally, relieved to see that his friend was feeling better. It did, however, present him with the problem of how to let Malfoy know that accepted his invitation without Hermione finding out. In the end he hadn’t much choice in the matter.

At the end of class, while everyone was bottling their potion and putting away their materials Draco stopped by his table. “Have you given any thought to the question I asked you on Monday?”

“I have,” Harry said, glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye.

“And?” Malfoy inquired.

“When did you have in mind?”

“Perhaps tomorrow?” the blonde suggested.

“When?”

“When do you have time?”

“How about in the morning?”

“Could you be a little more specific, Potter? Morning lasts a long time,” Draco said dryly.

“Hufflepuff has practice after breakfast, so how about before?”

“It’s a deal,” the Slytherin said. “I’ll meet you on the pitch.”

“See you there,” Harry agreed as the other nodded and walked off.

Hermione had been discreetly watching the exchange and asked softly, “What was all that about?”

Harry sighed. “Malfoy asked me to go flying with him.”

“And you’re going?” Hermione asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Harry said defensively.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“I doubt he’s going to kidnap me right off the grounds or anything,” Harry snapped.

Hermione shrugged.

“He keeps talking to me. Maybe if I go I can figure out what he wants,” Harry said in a reasonable voice.

“Maybe,” Hermione said. Clearly she was not convinced but saw little point in arguing with him.

“Look, if anything bad happens, I’ll come straight back to the castle. Besides, you’ll know where I am, if I’m not back by breakfast you can sound the alarm,” he said coaxingly.

“I suppose,” she said, sounding a bit more reassured.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled at her.

She gave him a half-smile in return and said teasingly, “How much of this is because you can’t resist a mystery and how much is because you miss being on the team?”

“Why, ‘Mione, what ever do you mean?” he laughed.

She swiped at his arm and left to carry her un-used shrivel-fig skins to the receptacle. As she did, Harry let out a small sigh of relief. That hadn’t been so bad, now all he had to worry about was what would happen when Ron found out.

-----

That night Malfoy lay in bed, staring up through the dark at the canopy. He should be asleep, he knew. Had to get up early to go flying with Potter. He had more or less expected that the Golden Boy would pick a time when not many were out, wouldn’t want to be seen consorting with the enemy, after all, but he had been surprised when he found out that St. Potter hadn’t discussed it with his friends, or at least not with Granger. That was interesting.

Was there more distance between the Golden Trio than he had known? Was Potter feeling abandoned now that Granger and the Weasel were a couple? If so, he could exploit that.

Suddenly Draco let out an explosive sigh and rolled over. Plotting was fun, but it didn’t make up for the fact that he didn’t want to do this.

He hated Potter.

He hated that his father paid more attention to the Annoyance-Who-Lived than his own son. Why, even Professor Snape, who could formerly be counted on to make the prat miserable, seemed to be going easy on Scarhead these days.

What had happened to the way it used to be? Before Hogwarts, when his father had praised him and told him that he was the best of the best? What happened to all the attention he used to get? And why did Potter, scarred, stupid, perfect Potter, get to be famous and the center of everything? It just wasn’t fair.

-----

The next morning Harry got up, dressed warmly, and, grabbing his broom, snuck out to the Quidditch pitch. The halls of Hogwarts were empty and quiet and it made his normally-silent footsteps echo strangely. He was relieved when he got outside without running into anyone.

When he arrived at the pitch Harry looked around. Malfoy stepped out of the shadow of the stands with a funny look on his face, but he had a neutral expression when he reached Harry. “Good morning,” the blonde greeted him.

“Morning,” Harry replied. “Have you got the snitch?”

“Right here,” Malfoy said, producing the tiny golden ball from a pocket.

“How’d you get it?” Harry asked.

“I have my ways,” Draco smirked.

“I’m sure,” Harry said dryly. “You didn’t try to fix it, did you?”

“Of course not,” Draco said haughtily. “Malfoys don’t need to cheat to win.”

“But it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

The prefect glared at him. “I didn’t do anything but nick it,” he growled.

“Right then,” Harry said, mounting his broom.

Draco released the snitch and straddled his broomstick. “On the count of three, then,” he suggested. Harry nodded.

They counted in unison, “One, two, three!”

In a flash they were off, swooping and circling, climbing and diving as they hunted for the golden snitch. Harry found it first nearly every time, much to Draco’s annoyance.

As breakfast approached Harry signaled that he was landing and descended toward the grass of the pitch. A moment later Malfoy joined him. “Same time next week?” he asked in a would-be casual voice.

“I’ll be here,” Harry said as he turned and hurried to Gryffindor tower. He needed a shower before breakfast.

By the time Harry got out of the shower Ron was up and the two made their way to breakfast. Hermione didn’t say anything other than ‘good morning,’ but she gave Harry a sharp, assessing look. He smiled at her and sat down, heaping food on his plate and listening to Dean chat about his football team’s last win.

-----

Sunday morning Harry wrote Remus’s letter.

Dear Remus, he began,

How are you? I hope everything’s going alright for you.

I had a weird dream the other night, don’t worry, not that kind of dream. It was about Snuffles. He kept asking me if I was happy. Do you think he’d want me to be? I mean, would he mind if I was now? Even though they didn’t get along?

Please write back soon,

Harry

He wasn’t entirely pleased with it, but he couldn’t figure out any way to say Snape without implicating him should the letter be intercepted, so he hoped that the werewolf would know what he meant.

-----

That afternoon Draco followed Potter up to the Owlery. Once he saw realized the destination he conjured a bit of parchment and rolled it up as a cover in case Potter should see him. He had toned down the following a bit, but he felt that he couldn’t afford to let his surveillance lapse totally. It was just his luck that on the way he ran into Pansy, who wanted to know where he was going and why and why he had been so scarce around the common room lately. She had missed him, she proclaimed in a whiny voice, wrapping herself around his arm and peering artfully up at him through artificially lengthened and blackened lashes.

Harry remained oblivious to his shadow and passed the note to Remus on to Hedwig, sending her off with an admonishment that she be extra careful. After that he once again slipped into an unused alcove and donned his cloak before making his way nervously to the dungeons.

He tapped softly at Snape’s office door and hurried inside as soon as it was opened. Harry took his cloak off and bunched it in his hands, not looking up even when Snape tried to catch his eye. “Harry,” his professor asked when they had seated themselves, “has something happened?”

“No, not really,” Harry said fidgeting in his chair and plucking slightly at the fabric he held in his hands.

“Are you certain?” Severus pressed him. Harry nodded. “I understand Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have reached an understanding,” Snape probed.

“Yeah,” Harry said nodding jerkily.

“I saw you speaking with Draco Malfoy in class,” Snape commented in an off-hand tone.

“Mmhmm,” Harry murmured.

“What is bothering you?” Severus said, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

“Nothing,” Harry repeated a trifle too quickly.

Severus examined him closely through narrowed eyes before saying, “Shall we move on to practice then?” Harry nodded and took several deep breaths, which he had not needed to do in the last session.

At last their time was up and Harry practically bolted out of the dungeon office. Severus was growing quite concerned. His student was acting exceptionally oddly. He insisted that nothing had happened, but somehow the dark wizard could not believe this.

Something was making Harry skittish around him. Was it possible that the youth had somehow found out about his deception? It was unlikely, and yet what else could cause this sudden alteration in behavior?

It stung a little that Harry would not confide in him, but Severus attempted to shrug it off, after all, hadn’t he also refused to tell Harry the truth? Besides, if things were not quite as smooth as they had been, at least it allowed Harry to practice his so-important occlumency skills under more trying circumstances.