“Draco Malfoy, don’t lie to me!” Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips and looked down at the bruised boy sternly. During the school year she was used to seeing him just about as many times as she was Harry. Occasionally he showed up with an odd magical injury that he refused to explain, and other times he came in all bloody and bruised from a rough Quidditch match. She was surprised that she hadn’t seen Draco yet during the summer, and now she had both him and Harry sitting on beds across from her, bloody, bruised, and not telling her the truth.

Draco shrugged, and Pomfrey said, “I know fighting injuries when I see them… you can’t fool a woman who’s been a nurse at a magical school for near twenty years!” She turned to Harry, who had suddenly found his fingernails very interesting, and was giving them a close looking over.

With an “hmpf,” Pomfrey threw her hands up into the air and said, “Fine, fine! Don’t tell me that you were fighting, but I’m not going to treat your bruises just so that you can treat each other like punching bags again!” She turned promptly and strode to her office, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, “They turn seventeen and all the sudden they get the idea that they have the right to withhold information.”

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically, and seeing this, Harry gave a short laugh, remembering only after he had done so that his ribs hurt as if they were cracked. Draco rolled his eyes at Harry, and said, “Give me a break Potter… we’re off the field and Snape’s not watching… you don’t have to keep up the act anymore.”

Harry frowned. “Act?”

Draco got up off the bed he had been sitting on, and glared down at Harry. “Did you really think you could trick me with all that ‘friendship and family crap?’” Harry frowned now also. He stood up and looked Draco straight in the eyes.

“It was an offer,” Harry told him simply, trying to figure out what was going on inside of Draco’s head. “I can’t say I’ve made the right choice or anything in making it… I don’t know that I trust you or anything… you don’t have to take it, but don’t spit it back in my face. Don’t be my friend if you don’t want to be… but don’t be my enemy either.”

Harry turned to walk away, but Draco stopped him with, “Is that a threat Potter?”

Without turning, Harry said, “No… just a request,” and then left Draco in the hospital wing, looking confused, and wondering just how long Harry was going to keep up the facade.

As he slept that night, Draco dreamed of playing Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Crabbe and Goyle were in the stands booing at him while Pansy Parkinson was busy trying to curse a Bludger to explode on impact when it hit Draco. Everybody on the Slytherin team surrounded Draco and pulled out their wands, and Snape stood by in the stands talking to Dumbledore, neither one of them noticing what was going on.

“It’s time you paid for your treason,” the Captain of the Slytherin team said with a grin. It was only after the Captain grinned that Draco realized it was his father.

“I’m not a traitor,” Draco said confidently, but still feeling nervous and trapped nonetheless.

“No?” his father asked with a nasty smile. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Malfoy wearing Gryffindor colors…”

Draco frowned as he realized that it was true. He wasn’t even flying on his own broom, and as he felt less confident, his broom began to feel as if it would fall from the air. His father raised his wand and pointed it at his head.

“I wish to exact my vengeance on the one who used to be my son.”

Draco shook his head. “I was never your son.”

Lucius shrugged, and said, “It makes no matter to me-” just as he was about to kill Draco, another figure clad in deep red and gold flew past on Draco’s broom and knocked Lucius, screaming, from the sky. Draco watched as Harry then put himself in between Draco and the others that would have killed him. When Harry turned though, it was not his face, but Crabbe’s. “Brothers, remember?” he said in Harry’s voice.

Faltering, Draco said, “Ye, yeah… Cra- Harry…” Confused and feeling sick, Draco’s broom finally lost its ability to fly, and he plummeted from the sky, waking with a nasty start to find himself in the darkened seventh year Slytherin boy’s dorm. Sitting up to find himself covered in sweat, Draco put his head on his knees, wondering if he would always have confusing, but mostly nightmarish dreams. What was wrong with him?

To himself, Draco thought, you can’t be allies with a Gryffindor, but you can’t be allies with any Slytherins… what the hell kind of mess did you get yourself into this time stupid? If you become friends with Gryffindor’s hero, the people around you will kill you, but if you don’t, you could be handing your life over to worse fates. Remembering various acts of torture he had seen his father and the Dark Lord’s other followers commit throughout his life, Draco shuddered, and wondered that his nightmares were not worse.

Not wanting to sleep again and fall back into the same dream, Draco pulled the covers from himself and was greeted by the cool night air that permeated the room, which felt good on his achy body. He found his shoes and sweat pants, and pulled on a white t-shirt with no logo on it, and made his way out of his dorm and Slytherin house into the corridors.

It was four am and the castle was as quiet as he had ever heard it. For a few moments he wondered where to go, and could not think of any place he wanted to be. The thought of sleep tugging at him, he resisted it, and moved off in the direction of the Entrance Hall. Not far down the corridor, Draco noticed light spilling out from under a closed door. It was Snape’s office, and Draco was surprised that his Head of House would be up at this hour.

Leaning in to hear what he could, Draco listened intently, wondering if Harry and Snape were having another chat… the kind of talk Draco wished would come easy to him, so that he could be involved in idle conversation that meant nothing important with the only adult he trusted. Wrapping his arms around himself as he suddenly felt chilled, Draco wanted desperately to knock and go inside, and tell the man sitting at the desk beyond the door about his nightmare. He wanted to tell him about Harry’s offer… about the moonshine he was making in a hidden room deep within the castle dungeons, about the book Dumbledore had given him, and the questions he had about the stories he found within. And yet, he could not bring himself to knock. In all his want and need, he could not get his arm to move in the simple motion to rap on the thickly carved wooden door. Suddenly he wondered if this had been easy for Harry, or if he had had the same difficulties. Draco knew that the only way he would ever find out would be to ask, and also knew that he would never get close enough to Potter to do so, because Slytherin’s and Gryffindors could not be friends and live to tell about it.

Draco sighed heavily and felt even more alone than he did in his bed, standing there in the darkened corridor. He let his arms hang limply at his sides and was about to turn to go back to his soft bed when the door in front of him opened, and the corridor suddenly became flooded with light.

Severus watched as the blond boy before him threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the light, and then lowered it a little at a time, squinting to see him.

After a few moments of consideration, Severus asked, “Having trouble sleeping without Draught of Death?”

Draco frowned. “What’s that?” he asked bluntly.

“In lemans terms, moonshine.” Draco paled visibly, and Severus nodded, knowing why.

How did he know? Draco wondered, watching the Professor with awe. He had half a dozen locking charms and curses placed around the secret entrance to the secret room, and he had taken great care to go unnoticed whenever procuring the ingredients for the necessary brewing.

“I saw it in your eyes on accident almost a week ago when we spoke at dinner. Your mind was where it should not have been if you wished to keep it a secret.”

Draco looked away, ashamed. Occlumency was something his father had tried to teach him, but had gotten too frustrated with to continue. His lessons had ended one night with his father trying to curse him with a little known and painful curse.

Suddenly caught at something strictly forbidden at the school he was sure, Draco now felt even less able to find that place where he was comfortable with Snape that Harry had seemed to find. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, still not looking the Professor in the eyes. Severus watched as the boy struggled internally with himself, and seemed to lose in every way.

Backing up into his office, Severus motioned for Draco to move into it so that he could close the door. Draco did so, a horrible feeling in his stomach, as if he had just made a fool out of himself, or at least removed all doubt that he was one.

Severus took a seat behind his desk, freshly cleared of lesson plans for the coming year, and after a few uncertain moments, Draco took a seat in the visitor’s chair Harry always took.

“Tell me why you were waiting outside my door,” Severus said calmly, trying not to sound too commanding.

Draco looked even further away, not daring to look the man in the eyes knowing his ability to see right through him, literally.

Severus waited for an answer patiently, being far too used to Harry to give up so soon on Draco. From experience, he knew that silence usually made people uncomfortable, and he was hoping that this silence would force Draco into talking.

Long moments passed, where Draco tensed considerably, unsure of what to do. How could he have put himself in this situation? The question being asked of him was one that would force him to reveal a great deal about himself… something he had never done before. No one knew anything important about him but himself, as far as he was concerned.

Suddenly frustrated with himself, Draco thought, how do I do this? How does Harry do this? I wanted to be inside the office, and now I’m here, but now I just want out. How do I say what I want to say without him thinking that I’m a fool, or a big baby, or something…

“I- don’t know,” Draco finally said, not really meaning that he didn’t know why he was outside Snape’s door, but more that he didn’t know how to do what he was trying to do.

Severus watched him as the struggle within him seemed to worsen.

Wondering if the boy would answer a different question, he asked, “Why the liquor?”

This was a question Draco felt he could answer, but didn’t know if he wanted to. He was not used to telling the truth, especially when he’d been caught at something.

“Crabbe and Goyle usually bring a stash back with them at the end of breaks… seeing as how I’m not welcome to their… crowd, anymore, and I’m stuck here…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish, but Severus got the idea.

“Why are you drinking?” he asked more specifically.

Inside something was happening to Draco that he didn’t want to happen. He felt as if he was walking along a path and it had suddenly split before him and he was having to choose for the first time which way to go. On the path to the right, he could remain silent or lie. He knew where this path lead, because it was a continuation of the path he had been on for the past seventeen years. On the path to the left however, he could take a chance and reveal this one thing about himself. The only trouble with stepping down this path was that he could not see where it lead to, which was a scary thing.

After long deliberation, through which Snape waited silently for a decision, Draco said, “It’s the only way I know to get rid of the hurt.” As he said this, he felt like he was having to fight back some of the other things about himself that wanted to spill from his mouth, and he felt as if his heart was in his stomach somewhere.

When Snape did not reply after a few moments, Draco chanced looking up at him, which he found to be a mistake, because once he was looking up, he could not bring himself to break eye contact. Part of him wanted to be seen through. A big part of him wanted to feel the freedom of having somebody to tell things to. After a few moments, Severus was the one to break eye contact, unable to keep living the struggle inside the boy through his eyes. He had had enough of that kind of struggle in his own life over the years, and it was hard to know the boy in front of him was going through that.

Knowing that this was probably the first thing Draco had ever told him about himself that was the truth, Severus wondered if he could get more from the boy. He only knew bits and pieces about Draco’s life… some of the horror he lived at home, some of the things he had seen, and some of the things he had done there at the school… he also knew, from overhearing a conversation between Draco and Harry the previous year, that Draco thought of him as a father, just as Harry did, which was a continuing struggle for the two boys. It was a struggle for him also, suddenly having two sons, even though he had long since thought about Draco as someone he felt compelled to look after, as one would their own child.

“Tell me more,” Severus said, breaking the silence.

Draco sighed and felt shaky, hating the feeling that was coursing through him… it was the feeling of weakness… something he hardly felt and usually was able to keep at bay when the feeling reared its ugly head.

“I would rather drown in moonshine a couple times a month than have to think about things when it gets to be too much,” he paused here, trying to think of lies out of habit, but then remembered that he had chosen the other path, and no longer had to. “I can’t get rid of the nightmares,” he added, wondering if this was too unrelated a topic to the one they had been on, but needing to speak about it anyway. “Every night, something different… every night all I can do is lay there awake and try not to go back to sleep. I don’t know what to do. The moonshine doesn’t help really… it just makes everything dead for a little while so I don’t have to deal with it.”

“How long have you been drinking?” Severus asked, curious.

Draco shrugged. “We stole some ale from a seventh year when we were in third year… that’s when we started bringing stuff back after the summer and keeping it stashed away.”

Severus wanted to sigh heavily but refrained from doing so for Draco’s benefit. Thirteen was a young age to start drinking. At seventeen he could remember taking his first drink, and hating it, but he knew what Draco spoke of about deadening the senses for just a few hours. It was something he hated to resort to, and hardly had in his life, but he could remember a few times when he had just let himself go for the night… when he had decided he no longer cared to remain conscious of the horrors he lived through. It had been a long time since he had spent the night drinking. The last night was the night Lily had died.

The sun was starting to come up when Draco finally left Severus’ office. They had only spoken of a few things in the short time he had been there, but Draco felt as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. When he climbed back into bed, and fell asleep, he found himself dreamless.


Draco awoke because he was being prodded to do so. He waved his arm to get whatever was trying to wake him to go away, but it wasn’t working, so he finally opened his eyes to find Dobby by his bedside, large round eyes boring into his.

“What?” Draco asked irritably.

Dobby’s large ears flapped as he spoke. “Somebody is waiting in the hall for yous sir.”

“Who?” Draco did not want to get out of bed because he ached from head to foot from fighting.

“Dobby cannot tells you sir… Dobby is only instructed to wake Master Draco.”

He pulled the blankets over his head, and said, “Well tell them to go away.”

Dobby shook his head, even though Draco couldn’t see him. “I can’t sirs!” he cried. “They tells Dobby that it is very very important!”

“Uugh.” Draco pulled the covers from over his head and looked over at the creature before him again. “Fine. Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

Bowing, Dobby disappeared. In no real hurry to dress, Draco got out of bed and looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was four in the afternoon, and he wondered that he had slept so long without waking.

In the corridor, Draco was surprised to find Harry examining a picture of the Bloody Barron. Harry turned when he heard the secret entrance to Slytherin common room open, and said, “This isn’t a very nice picture, is it?”

Draco scoffed and began to move off down the corridor.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked him.

“Somebody important is waiting for me,” he said, not turning back.

Harry crossed his arms and said to the retreating back, “Well, I’m glad you think I’m so important, but really, it’s ok, you don’t have to build me up like that Draco.”

Draco turned around, eyes narrowing. “You? You’re the one who sicked your little pet on me to get me up? What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d take as kindly to me standing by your bed trying to wake you up.”

“Yeah, right,” Draco said. “You couldn’t anyway.” Harry shrugged, knowing that he could if he pulled out the Marauder’s Map, but not wanting to trust that information to Draco, he didn’t say anything about it.

“What the hell Potter?” Draco spat. “What’s so important then that you have to get me up?”

Harry shrugged again. “You’ve been asleep all day… I just figured you might want something to do other than sleep, even though that’s so fun…”

Draco stood there in the hall looking at the Gryffindor, and again he wondered just how he was supposed to do this. Having something to do did not sound like a bad idea, and in fact, most of his time spent there that summer was wishing he had something to do and somebody to do it with. But how did he say yes? What was there to do with a Gryffindor? It wasn’t like they could go play Quidditch again. Did Harry even like to do the same things as he did? Draco doubted it very much. With a sudden pang of guilt he missed having Crabbe and Goyle around.

“Well?” Harry asked. Draco frowned. What did he, Crabbe, and Goyle usually do together? The two goons hadn’t been much for studying or intelligent conversation. They had been good at drinking, and the kind of rough and tumble activities that Harry looked too fragile to handle.

“We could duel,” Draco suggested, surprised that his thoughts had come out in verbal form all of a sudden.

Harry nodded. “Sounds good to me. We can use the room of requirement.”

Draco sighed as if this was a bothersome adventure, something he was used to doing to keep up appearances, even if he was excited to climb onto a dueling platform and hex somebody senseless. Harry raised his brows and walked past Draco, who followed not reluctantly.

When they opened the door, the room of requirement turned into a long dueling room with a long low dueling platform only a foot off the ground. Around the platform was a padded floor.

Harry hopped up onto the platform and pulled his wand out. “Ok,” he said, “how about a couple rules…”

“Ugh,” Draco said, knowing that the more rules there were to the duel, the less fun it would be.

Harry ignored him and said, “No casting something you can’t undo, because I don’t want to go back to Madam Pomfrey and get told off again, and nothing too painful.”

Draco thought the rules over, and decided that they weren’t too bad. He didn’t care for pain, at all. He had lived through far too much already. In his mind he thought over the charms, hexes, and other spells he would use in the duel. There were several he knew Harry would most likely not know the counter to, which gave him the upper hand. He nodded, and stepped up onto the platform, still sore from the day before. He noticed that Harry did not move as gingerly as he had after the fight, and wondered if he had gone back to see Pomfrey.

Both boys raised their wands, and let loose.
* * *

In the weeks following the brawl Harry and Draco had gotten into, every Hogwarts staff member noticed a difference in the behavior of not only Harry and Draco, but in Severus as well.

While Harry and Draco were rarely seen except at meal times, it was generally known that they were now not spending all of their time alone, feeling sorry for themselves because they had nothing to do. Both Harry and Draco were pleased to find that they had at least a few things in common, which made the time go by faster, instead of seeming to creep by at a crawl. Draco for instance, liked to play Wizard’s chess, and had his own set. Harry found that some of the pieces to Draco’s set moved on their own, and were more violent than his pieces, which didn’t often get much use. Every day, Draco and Harry met in the room of requirement to duel, each time learning new moves and hexes from each other. It soon got to the point where Harry knew all of Draco’s favorite moves, and Draco was forced to switch things up by going to the Library to look up new things to hit him with.

Twice more they convinced Severus to take them out to play Quidditch, although this time there was no fighting, but instead a healthy competition. Severus was glad to see both boys happy, or at least not stewing in their own hate for each other.

In the remaining weeks until the beginning of the school year, Draco also found that each time he spoke to Snape about something in his life, he found it easier to talk to him the next time. Draco was still having nightmares, but he now sometimes gained a reprieve at night after talking to his head of house on his way back to his room. What surprised him, was that Snape seemed more than willing to talk to him, and never seemed to judge too quickly or come to false conclusions about him. This was something he was definitely not used to: somebody seeing him for him, instead of just assuming that he was somebody else.

A few days before the scheduled arrival of the rest of the students, Harry found Draco alone in the Entrance Hall trying to turn a piece of toast into a large square cookie. Harry took a seat across from him and pulled out a piece of parchment with his class schedule on it.

“What do you have this term?” Harry asked. Frustrated, Draco stabbed the piece of toast with his black wand and let it fall back to the table.

“Not Transfiguration, that’s for sure,” he said, not keen to take the one subject he was horrible at.

Harry looked over his list of classes, and said, “What about NEWT Potions… I got into that ok, along with NEWT Charms and NEWT Herbology.”

Draco nodded. “I have those plus Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry looked at his schedule and said, “I have that, but the schedule says Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for that one.”

Draco shrugged. What he wanted to say was, don’t expect me to sit next to you in every class, but what came out was something like a grunt. In almost every interaction Draco had with people now, he had to subdue the response that came naturally to him. It was hard work, and sometimes he slipped up, but considering the circumstances, he felt he was doing fairly well.

“I don’t have to sit next to Weasley and Granger do I?” Draco drawled.

Harry frowned. He hadn’t thought about Ron and Hermione having the same classes, and he began to wonder how they would take his new friendship with somebody who had previously been the biggest thorn in their side from day one.

“I don’t think Ron has NEWT Potions, and I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him in other classes… I don’t think he’ll be real eager to sit right next to you. As for Hermione, I don’t think she’ll care.”

“Hm…” Draco thought on that for a moment. Weasley annoyed him to no end, but he generally didn’t find Granger too bad, no matter the comments he made about her. She was one of those people who knew when to keep her mouth closed and when to speak up. Weasley on the other hand was probably the worst of all his brothers. He wasn’t even funny like Fred and George had been during their time at Hogwarts.


At dinner that night, Harry and Draco were advised to stay inside the castle and out of sight for the next two days, because students would be arriving in a number of ways with parents, and there were security measures that they would only get in the way of. Harry nodded obediently, but after dinner Draco complained, saying, “What do they think, we’re going to run around like chickens with our heads cut off and trip them up?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know, but he was curious as to the different ways in which people would begin arriving. To answer his question, before they had even gotten out of the Entrance Hall, the Patil twins and their parents stepped through the doors from the Great Hall, luggage in tow.

Surprised, Harry and Draco turned to look them over. “Where did you come from?” Draco half demanded. Looking affronted, Parvati and her sister turned away and ignored him as Dumbledore appeared through the doors from the Great hall.

“As you can see,” he told Mr. Patil and his wife, “we have innumerable security measures in place, both for the arrival of students and for the year. If you will please,” he motioned with his hand to a circle drawn in white chalk on the floor that Harry and Draco had not noticed there.

The four of them stepped inside and waited. Seconds later the circle flashed green and Dumbledore smiled, motioning for them to step out of the circle. “The circle of trust has deemed you trustworthy to enter into the school. If you’ll notice, there is a similar mechanism placed around each door and window leading in and out of the school. The second an intruder steps through, they will be temporarily incapacitated.

Harry snorted and said under his breath, “Well that rules out half of Slytherin.” Draco glared at him for a moment, but knew it to be true.

Dumbledore lead the Patils off up the stairs to let the two girls into their common rooms and also to show the parents some of the other security measures. Almost as soon as he was gone, Professor McGonagall stepped through the doors with several Ravenclaw students and an old woman who he assumed was somebody’s grandmother. They too stepped into the chalk circle with their luggage, and were deemed friendly enough to enter.

When nobody else emerged from the Great Hall, Harry and Draco grew tired of waiting, and moved off to a higher floor where they could see out over the grounds. Occasionally they saw an auror guard or Professor leading a group up the long dirt drive from the main gates, but it was growing too dark to tell who was arriving.

“What a slow way to get everybody here,” Harry commented. Draco nodded. They both knew that it would probably be too dangerous to try and transport hundreds of students by train though. It would be too easy a target for Voldemort and his followers.

Friday evening, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny appeared in the Great hall with Mr. Weasley, and Ron’s older brother Bill. Harry and Draco were busy trying to undo a transfiguration spell Draco had done in another part of the castle, so Harry didn’t know they had arrived until he went to bed later that evening. It took two hours before Harry finally managed to turn the talking stone statue of Alexander Henwick back into its original form, from the horse with two heads Draco had accidentally spelled it into. The entire time, Alexander, the famous spell inventor cursed at Draco and Harry for their improper use of magic. When they were done, they sped away from the cursing form, happy that they hadn’t been caught.

On the fourth floor, Harry bade Draco goodbye, and they both walked away laughing because of the statue.


“Harry!” The moment he had walked into the common room, Harry found himself in a warm hug from Hermione. For some reason, he was surprised to see her there.

Just as she released him from the hug, Ron came down the stairs from the boys dormitory, and asked, “Where you been mate? We thought you’d be waiting for us to show up.”

Harry grinned. “I didn’t know when you were coming, and the Headmaster warned us to stay out of the way.”

Hermione nodded knowingly, and went into a lengthy explanation about how they had been transported from a secret place in Hogsmead surrounded by anti-unfriendly charms, to the Great Hall. “According to the auror we came with, there are similar spots placed on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and one in London near the train station. All the first years are scheduled to transport in Sunday evening right before the feast, although McGonagall told us when we came through that there were already a few here staying in guest rooms with their parents.”

Plopping into one of the beat up red comfy chairs on the edge of the common room, Harry noticed that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were not the only new arrivals. The Creevy brothers were bent over a piece of parchment with two second year boys, and Seamus was sitting on the arm of a big red chair trying to talk a sixth year girl into a date.

“Well, at least we’ve got the day to hang around and do nothing tomorrow,” Ron said, pulling a purple candy bar from within a jacket pocket and plopping into the chair next to Harry’s.

“Yeah,” Harry said, thinking about his regular duel with Draco and wondering if Ron would want to be involved in it. Thinking that he would keep it to himself for the moment, Harry allowed himself to be pulled into a conversation by Ginny, who had taken to sitting on the arm of Harry’s chair as Seamus was doing to the girl across the room. Harry raised his brows at her and she blushed furiously.


The next morning, Harry found the Entrance Hall full of students and parents. He had left Gryffindor common room early thinking that he might find Draco and have their duel early that day, and was pleased to find him leaning against a wall next to the dungeon entrance, watching other students arriving.

“Well?” Draco asked at his arrival. “What are you doing here?”

Harry raised his brows. “Trying to find you for a duel.”

“Thought you’d be done with me now you’ve got Weasley and Granger back.” Draco rolled his eyes as he said this.

Harry shrugged. “I’m going to hang out with them later today, yeah, but I figured we could duel first.”

Draco rolled his eyes again, and was about to scoff, but a group of students caught his and Harry’s attention. Across the Entrance Hall, Crabbe and Goyle Jr. were being made to step in and out of the circle of trust, holding up the line of arriving students. Each time they both stepped inside, the circle turned red. Finally McGonagall made them step into it one at a time. The circle oscillated between green and red for a few seconds on Crabbe before settling on green. When Goyle stepped inside, it did the same thing. McGonagall looked to Dumbledore for help, who came over and lead the two boys away and into a small private room off the hall. Pansy Parkinson stepped into the circle next, looking smug, and it went straight to green. She glanced at Draco, and gave him a disgusted look when she noticed him standing next to Harry.

“Well, that settles that,” Harry said, grabbing Draco’s shirtsleeve and giving him a tug towards the marble stairs.

“What are you on about?” Draco asked, brushing Harry’s hand from his sleeve.

Harry shrugged. “If Pansy has you pegged then you’re going to have to find another place to spend most of your time this year. I doubt you’ll want to be in your dorm with her and Crabbe and Goyle lurking about.”

“Don’t worry about me Potter,” Draco said, scoffing, “I’ve got so many hexes placed around my bed… not even Dumbledore could get through.

“Well, if you want another one, I’ve got a great one that will keep people from getting into your book bag…” Harry trailed off and Draco looked away suddenly, knowing it was his fault that Harry had needed to go to so much trouble to keep the assignments hidden from him.

Because Harry was so used to spending his day with Draco, after they ended their duel they headed down to lunch together, Harry forgetting all about Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They were just in the middle of a conversation about the last Quidditch World Cup when Ginny walked over to them and sat down next to Harry.

“Oh, hi Ginny,” Harry said. Draco looked away and busied himself with something else, not wanting to say something rude.

Ginny raised her brow, and said, “Ron’s having a fit because he can’t find you. You might want to let him know where you’ve been before he goes out on a hunt for Voldemort.”

“It’s that bad?” Harry asked. Ginny nodded, and looking up now, Draco laughed, trying to disguise it as a cough. Ginny eyed him for a moment, but then turned back to Harry.

Harry nodded and said, “Thanks Ginny.” He looked to Draco who still laughing motioned for him to go. When Harry had stood and left, and Ginny had not, Draco stopped laughing, and tried to act busy again.

It didn’t take Harry long to find Ron. In the Entrance Hall Ron jogged up to him and said, “Hey mate, where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere!” Abruptly he turned and shouted, “Hey Hermione! I FOUND HIM!”

Looking a little embarrassed Hermione came from the other side of a large group being shown in through the main doors.

“Shhh Ronald,” she told him. “I was only over there talking to Neville and his grandmum.” Ron ignored her and turned to Harry again, questioning with his expression where he’d been.

“Er, have you seen all the security measures they’ve put in over the summer?” he asked, trying to divert their attention. “Some of the Slytherins have had trouble making it through the circle of trust… I don’t know if they still let them in or not if they turn it red. The Headmaster lead Crabbe and Goyle into a private room to chat when it happened to them.”

Because she was swift, Hermione caught that Harry was trying to distract them, and said, “He’s probably been given permission by the Minister of Magic to use Veritaserum.”

Momentarily forgetting his question, Ron said, “I don’t think ol’ Voldi is stupid enough to come marching in the front doors. If he is, the aurors will catch him.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “They sent most of them away early in the summer. I think they’ve been sending them back one at a time, but that’s a slow process.”

For the rest of the afternoon they discussed the new security measures and what Voldemort’s future plans as far as attacking the school might entail until it was time to go to the welcoming feast. Once the older students were all seated at their house tables, Professor McGonagall lead a scared looking group of first years in through the doors from the Entrance Hall. Harry wasn’t sure, but it looked to him as if there weren’t very many incoming students this year.

“Dad says a lot of parents chose to send their kids to foreign schools this year,” Ron said, also noticing that there was only half the regular number of first years. Harry looked around and noticed that most of the older student body was there, but quite a few second and third years were absent. At least a third of Slytherin table was empty, making Draco easier to spot sitting by himself on the end nearest the staff table. Harry wondered if he chose to sit close to the staff table for an easy get away, or because it was less likely that others would sit by him if he were there.

Most of the first years were sorted into Gryffindor and Hufflepuff this year, while a single solitary student was placed in Slytherin. Unsure of why he was the only one, the small brown haired boy sat across from Draco, looking unhappy about his choice after he had taken a seat.

As was custom, the Headmaster rose from his seat after the students were sorted, and the hall fell silent. Harry expected to hear a speech about all of the new security measures placed around the school, and how they should all feel very safe there. What he heard instead was something nobody expected.

For a time Dumbledore was silent, and every eye was on him. Finally, when the tension was high after such a long period of stillness, he cleared his throat, and said, “Silence is a tricky thing. You see, in a classroom, when a professor speaks, silence is good. It allows you as students space to fill your minds with what is being said, and it gives space to the professor to teach you. In a conversation, silence takes on the capacity of a friend or a foe. If a friend just needs you there to listen, and you are silent, it becomes the trait a friend would have. If somebody asks for your help, and you remain silent, it becomes one of the worst things you ever want to hear spoken.” Dumbledore became quiet again, and for a while Harry thought he was done and was going to take a seat, but he remained standing.

“In today’s world,” Dumbledore continued, “silence is death. You come home to a quiet house, and it could mean the worst thing. Unfortunately too many people remain silent for the good of themselves and the rest of the world. Today, we find ourselves face to face with the kind of evil that depends on silence. We find ourselves face to face with an evil we have allowed to take over. While silence can sometimes be a good thing, we have turned it into the worst kind of thing.” He paused, and his eyes scanned the crowd, finding Draco’s for only a moment, although for Draco it seemed much longer.

“How many times have you kept silent when you have seen things that people are doing to each other? How many times have you said to yourself, it’s not my business? How many times have you stood by and watched somebody doing something wrong, something that would harm others? We must not allow this silence we have worked ourselves into because of fear to continue! This is the time, here and now, that we must step up and take a stand against all that is wrong and evil! This is the time, when you as students may find yourselves thrown into the midst of battle! This is the time, when we as a people must band together to save not only ourselves, and our families, but also each other.”

Harry suddenly felt as if it were just him and Dumbledore there alone in the room, having a private conversation. He couldn’t feel the eyes of other students silently turning to him.

“Hate is silence.” Dumbledore said quietly now. “Hate keeps us from speaking out to stop others from being hurt. Hate puts us in a position where we allow ourselves to become distant from each other. I hate him, so I won’t help him. Look at all the horrible things she has done to me. Why would I help her now?” Dumbledore was picking out certain students with his eyes now, and holding on each of them for a moment or so before moving on to the next. “In such a time of darkness, where hate rules the world, and fills our lives with terror, and makes us to remain silent as others are hurt and killed, we must find something to replace hate. We must find a way to turn our world to light once more. Each, and every, one of us, must find something deep inside ourselves to put in place of hate. Find that one thing, deep inside of you, that will allow you to step forward when the time comes, and shout, THIS IS NOT RIGHT! THIS HAS TO STOP NOW! Find that thing, and hold onto it, with everything that you have! Through the fear, and through the pain, and through the dislike you have for others. If we cannot find that one thing today, right now, and stand up against what is wrong for everything that is right, then we are doomed as a people.

“Do not think you are safe within these walls. As staff, we can keep Voldemort and his men out. What happens inside is up to you.” Silent again, Harry was unsure if he was finished or not, but he finally took a seat. The hall remained still and quiet for many long moments, even after the food arrived, every student there was thoughtful. After many minutes, chatter began about what had been said, and Harry no longer felt as if it were just him and the Headmaster alone in the room.

“That was interesting,” Ron said as he piled mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I don’t know what he wants us to find inside though.”

Many of the new first year students around them looked over at Ron as he said this, and Hermione nudged him under the table.

“Friendship maybe,” Harry said quietly, thinking about Draco and Severus.

Ron laughed. “Yeah, well I’ve got plenty of friends, and I don’t hate any of them.”