Hermione huffed and closed the book she had been reading, 'Divinatory Interpretations of Waking Visions.' The book was as fascinating as the title suggested to her, and for the first time in her life she found herself enjoying anything to do with Divination. However, the book wasn't as helpful as the title suggested.

Since Ron had told her about the visions he had written down, she had decided to give Firenze and Dumbledore a helping hand with the interpretation; both were busy teaching and running the school, respectively. As well as the added extra, on Dumbledore's part, of the furore over the Azkaban break out.

It hadn't turned out quite as easy as she had thought it would be. Apparently interpreting visions required not just the book learning, but also a keyed in intuition for the subject that she appeared to lack. She persevered though, as always, reading every book that looked helpful and even some that didn't, making sure she at least had the grounds to understand what Ron was talking about. She had decided never to underestimate her boyfriend again. When it came to this subject, he was infinitely more knowledgeable than she was ever going to be.

There was really only one thing that she had been able to decipher for them so far and she was sure they had already known before she began her research. She had sat down this afternoon with her books and a written reproduction of Ron's visions. What she had ended up with was a detailed analysis of every colour seen in every vision and its magical significance. Once she was through with the magical, she wracked her brain for the muggle. She hadn't wanted to miss a thing.

Hermione absently sucked on the end of her quill, reviewing her notes. Colour wise, only four of the six visions provided anything significant to work with. The first was the most interesting, the one of Harry and Draco meditating together.

Flicking her quill at the description, she read it once more. She frowned; it felt unfinished, as if something was missing. As if Dumbledore and Firenze had removed some significant piece of information from the vision, something they did not wish her to know. She sighed, rereading her notes, thinking that if they had decided to withhold something, then it must have been for good reason.

So. Yellow and gold robes on Harry. Two colours traditionally and magically associated with masculine power and strength, winning, playful humor, charm, confidence and persuasion. Alone, yellow was connected with humility, intuition, goodness, truth, intelligence, learning, memory and logic. Gold was connected with great achievement, wealth and longevity. Those were the magical connections, but as a muggle-born, she knew of a few others. Gold was rich, precious, coveted, but it was also soft. Yellow was bright, lively, cheering and strong.

As for Draco's robes in the vision. Blue and pink. Magically, blue was associated with good fortune, wisdom, truth, fidelity, loyalty, faith, spiritual inspiration, creativity, calmness, reassurance, protection, understanding and patience. Pink was identified with romantic and mature love, friendship, harmony, affection, emotional healing, good will, nurturing and honor and morality. From a muggle perspective, blue was calming and clear, natural. Pink soppy, girly and motherly.

From this one vision alone, even with what she felt to be important parts missing, she could tell that it was exclusively about the developing relationship between the two boys. She would eat one of her own books before she believed for a second that neither Dumbledore nor Firenze had already worked that out. Despite this fact, she diligently wrote down every bit of information she discovered, making a neat list of the associations.

She continued onto the next vision that offered itself for colour associations. The vision of Professor Severus Snape trapped in a silent scream. In this vision, it was the red walls that spoke to her. Red was the colour of passion, power, strength, survival, vitality, determination, action, expansion and active leadership. It didn't take much of a leap to realise that the vision was of Voldemort. Torturing Professor Snape. Though in conjunction with the emotive side of the vision, she had yet to figure it out…

Hermione had been particularly interested in the vision of herself. Morbid curiosity really. Though magical colour associations were a void subject in its interpretation. Ron had all but refused to let her delve into it in any great depth. For his sake alone, she had forced herself to skim over it, leaving the interpretation to those more qualified.

The next, the cornfield and the Triple Goddess, was another easily divined vision. The withering yellow-gold sweetcorn seemed to signify Harry's depleting power. The Triple Goddess screaming in pain, wearing black robes of protection, power, chaos and binding. Their hair the silver of clairvoyance, intuition, psychometry, astral energies, their skin the white of spirituality, the psychic. It was Ron himself, despairing of Harry's loss.

Hermione shivered as she re-read her notes on that particular vision. If she was right, then Harry was in trouble. She hoped she was wrong and moved on to the next, but felt no better. This vision, too, seemed to portray a danger to her closest friend.

The blue-silver and the green figures, less to do with colour in this vision, and more to do with Harry and Draco's eyes. But then, the colour of their eyes may be important. They certainly seemed to portray something about each youth. Harry's green eyes were associated, magically, with healing, youth, hope, new beginnings and immortality. The green was also associated with the Green Man. She already knew the blue associations, but the silver added some things; freedom, balance, endurance, peace, personal illumination and a connection with the Triple Goddess, as well as clairvoyance, intuition, psychometry and astral energies.

She sighed once more, carefully placing the quill on the parchment, closing the book over them both. It was useless, and trying to figure out the meaning behind these visions was a lot more depressing than she had thought it would be. She was no psychic, her interpretations would be arbitrary at best; and without any of the training Ron had received, she had no idea whether or not she was even close to the mark.

"Ugh."

Ginny, whom had been sitting quietly at the table with her, apparently absorbed in writing a letter to someone, looked up. "What's wrong?"

Hermione placed the now closed book on top of the pile next to her and gave Ginny a wan smile, "Nothing really, just some research giving me a headache."

Ginny's eyebrows shot into her fringe in surprise, "Research? Giving you a headache?" And Hermione found herself on the receiving end of a smile she was used to seeing only on her boyfriends face.

Hermione returned the smile ruefully, "Yes, I know, ironic isn't it? But I'm afraid it can't be helped in this circumstance."

Ginny gave her a warm smile in response, dipping her quill in her ink before asking, "What are you researching?" with the air of one used to her bouts of researching and not really interested in what it was about this time.

Hermione leaned back in her winged armchair, pushing the pile of books a little further to the right so she could see the young redhead clearly. She smiled again, tiredly, "I'm just doing some research for Headmaster Dumbledore. He's a little busy with all the Azkaban fallout and needed some help."

Ginny's forehead wrinkled slightly at the word 'fallout' but she nodded, seeming not to notice Hermione's evasion of the actual question. It was only Ginny, but Dumbledore had asked her to talk about the visions to no one who did not already know of them; she had to keep Ginny out of the loop – however much it pained her to do so.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, attempting to fight back the headache that was threatening to emerge. She cracked one eye open when she heard giggling from the far corner of the library study area. Parvati and Lavender were giggling together over something in a magazine, showing the pages to Letice and Marianne – the two other girls from her dorm.

Sometimes – and she felt like a traitor whenever she did – she felt like just once joining in with the other girls. She felt like giving in to the side of her that just wanted to relax and enjoy being female. She had, for the Triwizard Ball, and she had felt fake almost the entire evening. Not that it had been misspent, after that Ball, Ron had finally realised he liked her – she supposed it had more to do with the fact she had gone with Viktor Krum than the fact that she had 'dolled up' a little.

Right at this moment though, she felt an urge to forget about real life for a little while, and enjoy herself with her fellow seventh years. Instead though, sighing inwardly, she gathered up her books and parchment, and went in search of Ron.

……………….

That same afternoon, Harry looked up from his prone position on the floor, not quite believing what had just happened.

He looked at his right hand wonderingly, staring at his wand, then up at Remus Lupin. "Did I know I could do that?"

Remus laughed and held out a hand to help him up, "I shouldn't think so, Harry. I must admit you had a bit more thrust in that than I was expecting, though."

Harry stood and flexed his right wrist, twirling his wand as he did so. They had just attempted a powerful shielding charm, which had shocked the both of them by being a little more powerful in Harry's capable hands than they would normally have expected – especially on his first try. The resultant explosion from Remus Lupin's attack had knocked Harry off his feet, and thrown Remus into the wall.

Dusting himself off, Remus continued, "Well, now that you seem to have picked that one up readily enough, I say we move on."

Harry squared his shoulders, looking Remus in the eye, "Are you sure?"

The last surviving Marauder smiled gently, "Certainly, Harry – over this single lesson you have picked up more than a handful of the more powerful defensive spells. So I thought we may try you out on some offensive."

He grinned in spite of himself; it was the offensive weapons he had most longed to try, though he knew the defensive would certainly come in useful.

This was the first of his new extracurricular DADA lessons. It had started almost two hours ago, just after the normal end to the school day. It was nearing five in the evening and he found he could now command three new defensive spells. Glacierous, which was much like a body-bind, just a lot more powerful; Inreter, which was a much more powerful version of the roping charm; and Protexi, which had just turned out to be rather a good one.

He was beginning to wish that he had known some of these spells when he faced the Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor over the summer. Some of them would indeed have been very useful last December.

"Harry? Are you ready?"

Harry blinked and looked once more at his father's old friend, realizing he must have drifted off in remembrances of the Christmas period. He shook himself slightly and made himself smile, "Sure, Remus, I'm good. What's the next one?"

Remus Lupin appeared to assess him for a moment and then he smiled in return, "I think we may try a simple Explosion curse." Harry's attention was instantly peaked, this sounded interesting. He watched as Lupin moved across the room, apparently measuring it with his steps.

"Yes, I think there may be enough room…" the older man mumbled quietly. To Harry's surprise, he quite suddenly clapped his hands together and ushered him forwards. "Here, stand here, Harry, don't want you blowing yourself up."

"Uh, yeah, Remus." He couldn't help but grin at the way his Professor was acting – almost like a concerned uncle, which, he supposed, he may very well be. As far as Harry was concerned, at any rate.

Remus stood next to him, took a very discreet step back and said, with a smile, "The spell is Discutere, emphasis on 'cu'. Just think 'explode' as hard as you can," he paused, "well, maybe not too hard, Professor Dumbledore rather likes this room."

Harry grinned, pointed his wand at the makeshift target they had been using all afternoon and uttered the curse.

When he woke up, he was surprised to see that he was lying in the hospital wing.

Remus looked down at him, "I did say not to think too strong, Harry," he said with a smirk.

Harry sat up, "How long was I out?" He scrabbled at the bedside table and grabbed his glasses, noticing that he was still fully clothed. He couldn't have been out for too long, then.

Remus stretched, "About an hour. You destroyed the room. But you know Albus, he doesn't mind in the least, he simply wanted to make sure you were ok."

Harry stretched in turn, keeping a wary eye out for Madam Pomfrey. She had an annoying habit of babying him whenever he ended up in the hospital wing, despite the fact that he tended to be able to look after himself these days.

He caught Remus' eye. The older man, his Professor, was giving him a slightly worried, contemplative look. He looked like he wanted to say something. Giving in to the tension, Harry said, "What's wrong?"

Lupin straightened a little, giving him an uneasy look before taking a breath, "Do you resent these new DADA lessons?"

Harry blinked a little, not really sure what to say.

"It seems as if all you spend your time on now are extra lessons for your own and others protection. Mostly other's. I could see why you could grow to resent them, if you do."

They sat in silence for a moment, Harry trying to figure out a response to the question. Eventually, he turned back to the man who was becoming more and more a friend, rather than teacher.

"I don't. Not really." He paused, looking closely at the older man. "Remus, I honestly don't mind. I understand what the world feels I should be doing and sometimes, I agree. I understand the responsibility that's been, well, forced on me and I've got to do everything I can just to survive. In the meantime, it's fun, learning new spells and curses, blowing myself up a little," he grinned, "destroying one of Professor Dumbledore's favorite rooms…"

Remus gave him a long, hard look, his features gradually softening, losing the uncharacteristic tenseness. Finally, he smiled, "That's good to hear." His voice trailed off slightly and Harry thought he continued, "…but such a responsibility…"

They both jumped as Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, cheery smile, as ever, in place. Harry tried not to scoot back and out of her way as she reached his bedside, though he received a withering look anyway. She put a hand to his forehead and held his left wrist, checking his pulse with her forefingers.

After a moment, and an incoherent mumble in the direction of her chest, Harry found himself looking her straight in the eyes. He could almost feel Remus silently laughing behind him.

"You're fine. But if I have you back in here again within the week, it will be bed rest and Professor Snape's foulest invigorating potions for you. Professor Lupin, make sure he doesn't try and get himself killed again on his way to his dormitory."

She and Remus exchanged cursory nods as Harry scrambled off the bed. Remus quickly followed Harry out of the ward, the teenager giving the retreating figure of Madam Pomfrey a sour look as he closed the door. Sometimes, that woman scared the hell out of him, and threatening him with Snape's foulest potions really was below the belt.

He sighed as he quickly stepped up to Remus' side and they traipsed unhurriedly down the hallway for a moment in silence.

"Would you come back to my quarters, Harry?" He glanced at Lupin and smiled, nodding, absently wondering where Draco and the others were, what they were doing. It didn't take long to get there, the DADA quarters were still in the same place as they had been the last time Lupin taught here. Once or twice, as they walked, Harry had thought Remus was about to say something, but the man had seemed to shrug it off in silence.

Despite getting to know Remus fairly well in his third year, Harry had never actually been in his private quarters, only his office. Thankfully, he'd never had to be in any of the other DADA Professor's private quarters either, the mere thought of what one or two of them must have been like, gave him a chill. Especially the thought of Lockheart's.

He grinned to himself. Lockheart was currently back in the business of Authorship. It had taken time, but he had regained most of his memory – with stops and starts and a few false steps. Though a few well placed and meaningful howlers from Fred and George, on the subject of such things as Basilisks and back-firing wands, had kept him mercifully clear of anything to do with Harry since his come back.

He was certainly intrigued as to what Remus' quarters would look like. He had a feeling Lockheart's would have been full of self-portraits, just like his office. Fake Moody, or Barty Crouch's office would probably have followed the same rule, full of Dark Arts detectors. Umbridge's, he was sure, probably would have been full of doilies and other such nonsense items, again following the same rule. Quirrel's, though, he wouldn't have been surprised if it was as normal as wizarding quarters could get, with only the occasional personal item. Professor Defoe's quarters would probably have been rather boring, as the man himself had been.

So, with a certain amount of eagerness, he followed Remus into his private quarters. He was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be full of interesting little nick-knacks and strange implements, African and Japanese masks, books from floor to ceiling on fitted shelving, a small bubbling cauldron to one side and some of the comfiest looking furniture he had ever seen. As Remus moved to one of the cabinets, near a door at the rear of the room that presumably lead to his bedroom, Harry browsed around, reading book titles and trying not to touch anything.

"Drink?" Harry turned and saw Remus holding up a clear glass bottle of what appeared to be butter-beer. He grinned, "Sure, thanks," and sat down in one of the armchairs as Remus poured them both a tall glass. He couldn't keep his gaze in one place though, as the whole room was so interesting. The African masks on the wall interested him beyond anything else; they were huge and looked almost feral.

"Your Godfather and I got those on one of our travels together after your third year. Of course, that was before Dumbledore called us both back to England, when Voldemort returned." Harry looked up at Remus as the older man handed him the glass. Remus' eyes, suddenly tired looking, were on the masks he had been looking at. He hadn't known Remus and Sirius had traveled together in his fourth year. It made sense though, as Remus had obviously been unable to get work and Sirius had been on the run that year.

"How's your new term been so far?" Remus sat down on the sofa opposite him, taking a sip of his butter-beer. Harry shrugged, swirling some of the beverage around his mouth, enjoying it. He hadn't had any since Easter.

"It's not too bad. Quidditch trials went well, we have some good players this year, as well as enough reserves. I'm keeping up with all my studies, as usual and of course it helps to have Hermione around for that." He smiled, settling back a little.

"That's good to hear, but you know I meant 'how are the dreams?'" Remus gave him a scrutinizing look. Of course that's what he had been on about. Harry had simply wanted to keep the conversation light, off such subjects as this. He sighed and leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees, twirling the glass in his right hand, left hanging limp.

"They're as bad as ever if I don't take the potion. Which has happened only twice since getting back." He hated reliving anything to do with that December night, so he made sure to keep a vial of Dreamless sleep in his bedside table at all times. Those times he hadn't had it with him had been nights spent in Draco's room. Of those two instances, he had dreamed, but had not woken, as was the case if he forgot in his own room, alone. Both times, he had kept the dreams to himself.

"Did the dreams bother you over the summer?" Remus asked gently. Harry shook his head, "No, they only come when I'm here, within the magical field of Hogwarts," where it had happened. They had realised this would be the case days afterward. He had spent the first few nights in London, in St Mungo's and there, the dreams had not come. As soon as he had returned however… It had been Dumbledore who had made the connection, and Severus had come up with the correct potion to help.

He brought his left hand up to his face, "I haven't told anyone about them. Everyone assumes I've not forgotten since getting back." He looked up at Remus and smiled, "I suppose everyone thinks I'm infallible, the 'Great Harry Potter, Boy Who Simply Wouldn't Quit'."

Remus cracked a smile at the title and put his now half-empty glass on the coffee table, "How are you coping?" He made a vague hand gesture, "With everything, not just the dreams."

Harry put his own glass on the table and sat up again, "Pretty well actually. The course work keeps me busy, my friends keep me sane and these new lessons will keep me safe. I'm not worrying, neither should you." He watched, as Remus appeared to stifle a slight laugh before replying.

"I think I'm entitled to worry, Harry. But you're right. I simply wanted to make sure you were ok with your lot at the moment." He picked up his glass again, "But speaking of friends, I'd like to ask about Draco. Almost everything I've heard about the two of you has been hearsay and second or third accounts."

Harry almost grinned; he had had a feeling the conversation would turn toward Draco and himself at some point.

"How did the two of you suddenly get on such good terms over the summer?"

Harry picked up his glass and took a sip or two before replying, "It wasn't so sudden, really. Since the end of Fifth year, Draco's been trying to distance himself from Voldemort, the Death Eaters and his father. I just didn't really notice, what with everything that happened between Sirius' death and the end of Sixth year."

He made himself more comfortable as Remus asked, "But?"

"But, when I bumped into him in Bath over the summer and saw him outside the confines of Hogwarts and it's cliques, I finally noticed. We just kind of fell in together because we were both bored and the friendship grew from there. Helped along, of course, by the appearance of the Death Eaters. I realised just how much of a friend he was when Voldemort turned up at his home." He shrugged; trying to brush off some of the feelings that had hit him at that moment. Remus was an open-minded person, but some things he liked to keep to himself.

Remus smiled, knowingly, "I notice that you and Draco are a little more than friends now, though."

Harry raised his eyebrows, his glass halfway to his mouth. Remus chuckled, "No, it's not that obvious, but one learns to read the signs. I suppose he is worth it? Worth running the risk of Voldemort finding out and perhaps using him against you?"

Harry carefully put his glass back on the coffee table, giving himself time to gather his wits before replying, "Of course he is. We thought about that before coming back, it's why we've decided to keep it between ourselves and Ron and Hermione." At this, it was Remus' turn to look surprised. "They know?"

Harry nodded, "Ron doesn't really approve, but that's no great surprise. Hermione seems pleased for us. You should have seen the look on Ron's face when we told him." He grinned at the memory. "Hermione had already figured it out and warned him, but it was still amusing."

Remus chuckled again, his eyes smiling, "I can imagine."

Harry couldn't help grinning. It was almost refreshing to have someone else in the know, to be able to talk about such things with someone other than Ron and Hermione. It was nice that Remus appeared to approve. Beyond the normal question of whether the relationship was worth it - the kind of question that could be asked of anyone he may have had a relationship with – Remus didn't seem to have any qualms over his being with a young man, rather than a young woman.

They ended up talking for at least an hour more, completely forgetting the time and everything outside the room.

………………

It's been over two weeks since everyone got back. Lots of new little faces as well as all the old ones. If it was still like the old days, the new faces would be ripe for the picking. Money, food, boredom, just for the hell of it. But it's not the old days anymore, it's now, and things have changed. For good or bad, who knows?

The Dark Lords return was supposed to bring glory to the Slytherins, that's what we were always taught, but it didn't happen like that. His return has divided the House. Worse than that, now the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are no longer on the sidelines; they've joined the Gryffindors and there's nothing we Slytherins can do against them all.

Either join the Dumbledorian's; one side says, and live, or stick with the Dark Lord and die. There's no middle ground, we can't just stay out of it, we have to choose. One or the other. Light or Dark. But we have no choice, Goyle and me.

We don't want to join the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, that's plain enough, we've already made that choice. But we don't want to join the goody-two-shoes either. That's not who we are. That's not what we are. We want to live our lives as we are used to living them, away from the war that's brewing like one of Snape's potions.

We've been keeping our heads down since term started, we don't want trouble. We caused ourselves enough of it that night at Blaise's. Any more and we just might have to leave, just pull right out of Hogwarts and go into hiding. The only reason we haven't, so far, is Draco. We can't leave him here alone.

He probably thinks he's safe with Potter as his new friend, but we've heard things; when people think they're alone. In the common room, the dormitories, behind the broom sheds and among the stacks in the library. The Dark Lord's up to something. We don't know what, because they stop talking whenever they notice us. What we've heard worries us.

Draco's stupid to think he can get away with what he's doing. Making friends with Potter? We don't care who he fucks, we never have, but this? If he had done it in the old days, everyone would have thought he was working on His orders. But now? He's openly chosen the Light. Bad idea.

Really bad idea.

For us, it was risky turning Him down. It's downright suicidal for Draco Malfoy. For pretty much that reason. He's a Malfoy. His mum and dad are with Him, members of the Dark. That means he's got nowhere to turn if Potter fails. Except perhaps to us.

That is why we stay. We don't trust Potter and the other Dumbledorian's to do right by him.

So. Here we are. For the past two weeks, keeping our heads down and out of view of most of the other Slytherins. The other houses don't really give us any problems, not since He made himself known last December. Unless we start something, we're fine. And we haven't started anything.

I've been watching Draco with the Golden Trio. Other than Potter, he doesn't like any of them. I've known him for so long; I can read him like a muggle kid's book, and from the way he acts with Granger and Weasley… It makes me wonder what's so great about Potter that he puts up with them? But put up with them he does, for reasons of his own.

I worry about him; I've seen him when he thinks he's alone. He's in pain. Knowing Draco, though, he probably hasn't told anyone, kept it to himself so no one worries or realizes that he has a weakness. He's probably been going to Snape for pain relief potions, to keep it under control. But I can tell when I look at his face, it's bothering him. I wonder if Wonder Boy knows? Bet he doesn't, Draco's probably hidden it too well from him.

Well, I'm going to keep an eye on Draco and Potter. If anything happens that I don't like the look of, I'll go to Draco, talk to him, try to make him see sense. I doubt it'll work, but there's no sense in not trying. Goyle and me will stay at Hogwarts, for now.

………………

"Mars is bright tonight."

Ron was in Firenze's enchanted classroom, lying on the ground, staring at the night sky – even though it was only early afternoon. Despite his adoration of all things Divinatory these days, Firenze and his patronizing way of treating his human pupils got on Ron's nerves.

He had been told by Harry, on many an occasion, that all Centaurs were evasive and a little patronizing though, so he was getting used to it. It was particularly annoying, however, when Firenze avoided a question by making some inane observation. Yes, indeed, Mars was rather bright this evening and Ron had long since figured out what it meant, but he really did want the answer to his question. It was pointless, however, to pursue a question that had been avoided thus.

He sighed, "I suppose I ought to get on with the lesson then?" He received a rather pointed look from his white haired, palomino bodied tutor. He ignored the look and flipped onto his stomach, opening a book once he had got himself comfortable. Firenze maneuvered himself down until he was 'sitting,' his humanoid half resting against a tree, arms folded across an impressive chest. Ron studied the double-page-spread for a few minutes, then rolled over again to look at the sky. He studied the heavens with the same intricacy as the pages before speaking.

"Mars and Jupiter," he squinted at Jupiter. In this room, the sky was slightly magnified, so he didn't really need a telescope, but it would still have helped, "Appear to be signifying the coming of a Great War." He paused and glanced at Firenze. A slight nod was all that he received, but it was enough to encourage him. He turned back to the sky again, scrutinizing it.

"It's hard to tell, with some of the movements a little confusing, mostly because I've not done them yet, but I think Andromeda and Neptune are portending some form of battle. Not the Final Battle, but an important one nonetheless." Again, he glanced at his primarily monosyllabic tutor to gauge whether he was correct. Firenze was staring up at the sky, his gaze apparently directed to the very spot Ron had just divined. Ron watched his tutor and eventually the centaur looked at him again.

"You are correct, Ron Weasley." Firenze climbed back to his hooves and stood with eyes trained once again on the sky, "You are improving, man child. Your skills, though still hindered by youth and your very nature, are comparable to the youth of my kind." And a centaur youth was normally still a foal by the age of seventeen. Apparently they didn't learn to talk until they were into their twenties. The drawbacks of living for centuries at a time, and also not much of a compliment if he was being compared to a centaur foal. Though he supposed any form of compliment from Firenze was rare enough to warrant some form of celebration.

"Thankyou."

Firenze blinked slowly then shook his head, as if to clear it. "Tell me of your visions."

Ron raised one eyebrow, "Again?" The look on the centaur's face was enough to make him shut up and get the parchment he had written them down on out of his bag. They had actually spent at least an hour every day talking of nothing but the visions – he was beginning to get a little tired of them – though he knew they were important.

"We have discussed the first two, you have consistently avoided the third – today, we must discuss it." Firenze paused, giving him a somber look, "Repeat the particulars of the vision to me."

Ron breathed deeply for a moment and then read out the description to his teacher. This vision perturbed him more than the others, simply because he now knew it was no metaphor. The vision of Hermione was not completely real, but the message was clear, she was going to be harmed, sometime in the near future. The problem was, there was no way of telling when it was going to happen, and there was no point in warning her about it – doing so could lead to complications, paradoxes – perhaps leading to her making it happen.

"Have you thought more on this vision, man child?" Firenze was giving him what could pass for a sympathetic look – for a centaur.

Ron nodded, "I have. I haven't come to any significant conclusions though, beyond the fact that this is no metaphor. Hermione will soon be taken from me and harmed. It doesn't tell me how or why, though."

Firenze nodded, "And the next – read it to me."

As he read out the next vision, he re-sensed the feelings associated with it. Despair mostly, sadness, fear – the unseemly feel of disappointment, but not a human disappointment. The disappointment seemed to radiate from the magic itself, the aura of almost sentient power that emanated from all magical things, whether alive or inanimate.

"There was that feeling again, Sir. The powerful aura of Hogwarts, sorrowful and disappointed because of something, important – I still can't tell what it is." He closed his eyes and searched the vision. He shook his head – it was giving him nothing more for the moment. He sighed. "Nothing, Sir."

"It is difficult – think on this vision more, work out the feelings within yourself – the meaning is inside you, you must simply discover it. We are done for today – I have matters to discuss with Professor Dumbledore."

Dismissed early? Ron had no problem with that, but it was a little strange. He packed his bag quickly, not registering the now normal sight of the ceiling returning to normal. Firenze nodded to him as he left the room, tail switching in an agitated manner.

Hermione was likely to be in the library, so he headed in that direction, musing over the feelings brought up by the vision. Firenze thought it was important enough to cut short a lesson so he could discuss it with Dumbledore, which meant he was going to have to do his best to figure it out.

He thought back to the vision of Hermione. Because of that vision, he had been thinking about protection – he couldn't do anything overt and risk making the vision a fact, but he could put a simple protection on Hermione. He had spent some time researching the matter during his free periods – normally he would need Hermione's permission to put a charm on her, most protection charms worked in that way. Recently however, he had found a very simple charm that was designed specifically for a loved one, it didn't need their permission, nor even their knowledge. Firenze's evident worry had forced him to make up his mind. He was going to perform the spell at the first opportunity.

"Ron!"

He looked up, dispelling his worries. Hermione had just turned the corner ahead of him, apparently just having left the library in search of him. He smiled broadly and they hugged – he held Hermione for a moment longer than usual, briefly squeezing her tightly.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Hermione stepped back, one hand still on his shoulder, a concerned look on her face – her eyes roamed his face, looking for any hints as to what was wrong. He smiled again, "Nothing, I just missed you."

She raised an eyebrow, but he only grinned at her, "Did you have any luck in the stacks?"

Hermione's expression changed to that of chagrin. "I'm not sure – you've probably figured out everything I've done already."

Ron shook his head, "That doesn't matter, any help is good help – and a fresh perspective on these visions are needed – Firenze, Professor Dumbledore and myself, are all too involved in them. We need someone like you to look at things in a different light, pick up on what we missed."

……………….

"Harry!"

Harry jumped at the eager voice, barely restraining the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to find Colin running to catch up to him. He was currently on his way to meet Draco at the Room of Requirement so they could join Ron and Hermione to discuss the visions. A Colin was not something he could afford to be distracted by at this particular moment.

"What is it, Colin?" He stopped and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, eyeing the younger boy warily. Colin caught up to him and took a moment to catch his breath before enthusiastically holding something out for Harry to take. Harry looked down at the offered object; it turned out to be a photograph.

"I spent a couple of hours in Snape's new darkroom last night, developing my holiday photographs – this is the one I took of you and the others!"

Harry took the photograph and looked at it, a small smile playing across his lips. It was a wizarding photograph and it was indeed the impromptu photograph Colin had taken of them at the end of the summer. Draco was looking slightly grumpy whenever he looked at the viewer, but his expression softened whenever he looked at Harry, which was frequently as Harry seemed to be muttering something under his breath. Ron and Hermione were both grinning, sipping their drinks and toasting the viewer, completely ignoring the two other occupants of the small photographic world.

"I've done two copies of it, if you want to keep this one, Harry?" Colin's voice interrupted his silent reverie.

"I'd love to keep this, thank you Colin, it's great." Harry grinned. Colin veritably bounced with glee at this; grinning from ear to ear he backed off a step, "I've got to get back to my friends. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Harry nodded and, still grinning, Colin bounced back down the hall, joining a group of kids who all appeared to simper and giggle as he did so, looking back down the hall.

Blinking slightly, Harry raised a hand in acknowledgement and then turned and continued on his way, still looking at the photograph.

………………

"It's a good photo, are you going to frame it?" Hermione handed it back to Harry with a smile, ignoring the affronted look on Draco's face. "I think a silver frame would look nice, don't you?"

"Yeah, actually, it would." Hermione watched in shocked silence as Harry created one with an elegant flick of his hand, plucking it out of the air in a graceful motion that completely assailed her belief that wandless magic could not be performed except by the highly trained and mature witches and wizards.

Hermione was even more astonished when she noticed the intricacy of the detailing on the frame; it was a delicate knotwork of lions, serpents and vines. She glanced at Ron, who raised an eyebrow. Harry placed the photograph in the frame, and the frame on one of the numerous desks before returning to sit next to Draco at one of them.

"How long have you been able to do that, Harry?" Hermione gave him an intent look.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, "I found out I can do wandless magic a little while ago, but I just did that without thinking. I keep meaning to talk to Remus about it, but, well…"

"You still haven't spoken to him about it?" Draco gave Harry a stern look, which Hermione took to mean that the two of them had already had words on the subject.

"Yeah, I was going to mention it today, but I blew us up and spent an hour in the hospital wing – and then we just got talking and I suppose I forgot." He grinned at them all a little uneasily.

Draco sighed dramatically, but Hermione and Ron both gasped. "You spent an hour in the hospital wing?" Ron looked about ready to explode, but Hermione put a hand on his thigh to quiet him and admonished, "Harry, you really should tell us about these things! If it happens again, you have to make sure a message is at least sent to me. With these visions, Lucius' escape, Voldemort's recent activities and Merlin knows what else, we need to know if you've landed yourself in the hospital wing so we can be prepared."

Harry looked a little chagrinned, but Draco, to Hermione's surprise, agreed. "Granger's correct, if you suddenly disappear and we don't hear of it, we'll know that it's something to worry about – so make sure to get a message sent if it happens again."

Harry nodded a little reluctantly and to change the subject Hermione picked up her notes from her afternoon of research. Taking the hint, Ron pulled out his own notes from his lessons with Firenze, "Did you find anything interesting?"

Hermione nodded, "I'm not sure how helpful it is, as I said earlier, you and Professor Firenze have probably figured out anything I can mention. However, what I've found does seem rather interesting."

Draco removed himself from Harry's side at the desk and appeared to make himself comfortable sitting in the middle of the floor instead, "Honestly, any new information at this point, is preferable to having nothing but a series of unfathomable visions."

Hermione nodded. Since Ron had told them of his visions, Draco had been particularly interested in all the ones concerning himself, so interested in fact that Hermione was beginning to think Draco was hiding something from them all, something unsettling.

"Well, what I have isn't much. I researched the magical properties of colour and using that information; I went through each of the separate visions. Here." She flicked through her notes and pulled out the copies she had made, handing them out to the boys. As she did so, Hermione noticed that the copy Ron had made her of his visions was missing.

"What's wrong?" Ron was giving her a worried look.

Frantically, Hermione went through every piece of parchment she had brought with her. She went through her bag, then her satchel and in desperation, opened every book she had with her to see if the parchment was in one of them, mistakenly closed between the pages.

By this time both Harry and Draco were also watching her. She groaned, slamming one of her books on the neat desk. "I've lost the copy of the visions Ron did for me!"

"Where were you last working with it? You probably dropped it when you packed up." Harry looked at her over the top of the parchment she had given him, "You'd better go see if it's still there, before someone else finds it."

"Go ahead, 'Mione, we'll go through your notes until you get back." Ron smiled encouragingly and she nodded, "I'll be back in a few minuets then." She pecked Ron on the cheek and quietly closed the door behind her.

"Argh!" how could she have done that? She was so sure she had been careful with the parchment; sure, she could make a mess sometimes – well, most of the time – but she never lost her notes. She sighed and turned the corner in time to see that Madame Pince was just closing up. "Oh, Madame Pince!"

"Hermione? What are you doing here so late? Shouldn't you be with your friends?" The Librarian raised a thin eyebrow as Hermione stopped a few feet in front of her.

"I'm doing some research for Professor Dumbledore and I fear I left one of my parchment notes where I was working earlier…" Hermione trailed off, not really knowing what to say. The Librarian's other eyebrow rose to meet the first, "Indeed? I'm afraid nothing was handed in this afternoon and there were no stray parchments in the study areas."

Hermione's face fell as this sank in, she could feel the panic beginning to rise, but Madame Pince continued, "However, Miss Weasley was studying with you, was she not? She also had a great many rolls of parchment with her as she left some time after you. I should try her, Miss Granger."

The panic began to fade, "Thank you, Madame Pince!" Hermione smiled and turned, hurrying back the way she had come, feeling a little lighter.

Peeves was bouncing around the hallway as she made her way back. Hermione did her best, but there was no avoiding him, this was one of the few hallways that had to be traversed to get to the Gryfindor Common room. The poltergeist spotted her and began giggling, speeding towards her as he did so.

"Mudblood! Mudblood!" He came to a stop a few feet above her, circling around her head in gleeful satisfaction. "Leave me alone, Peeves, you know you shouldn't." Despite knowing he was just an annoying ghost, hearing that word again after such a long reprieve still hurt.

"Naughty, naughty! Dark things going on, Mudblood, deep down, dark, nasty things! People sneaking and snooping, Mudblood should look out!" with a raucous laugh, Peeves then swooped out of the nearest doorway leaving her to muse on his words. Hermione shivered and glanced at the shadows, nervous despite herself. What he said could simply be his form of playing with her, but his 'warning' had come at a time when things were so insecure as to warrant anything, however strange, being taken into serious consideration.

Shivering again, Hermione looked over her shoulder and then continued on her way.

Ginny was curled up on one of the sofas in front of the fire with Seamus Finnegan, they were talking quietly to one another, apparently ignoring the few other students in the room.

"Ginny?" The redhead looked up and smiled warmly, sitting a little straighter as she did so. Seamus grinned his usual bright grin and nodded in acknowledgement of her presence. Ginny pushed some stray strands of hair behind her ear, "What's up Hermione?"

"I've lost a parchment of notes I took for the research I'm doing with Professor Dumbledore, Madame Pince suggested you may have picked it up with your own parchment this afternoon. Could you check for me?"

Ginny frowned slightly, "I'll go have a look, I wouldn't be surprised, we were making quite a mess earlier. I'll be right back." Hermione watched impatiently as Ginny walked up to her dorm room. Seamus shifted and leaned back into the sofa, "So what are ye workin' on?"

Hermione folded her arms, hugging herself slightly, "It's a research project that Professor Dumbledore needed a fresh perspective on, he wants to see my work so far tomorrow, so I'm a little perturbed at loosing my notes." She smiled at him and he nodded.

A moment later Ginny could be seen coming down the stairs carrying an armful of parchments, she was flicking through them as she crossed the room, "Ah! Here it is, I thought I remembered seeing something as I tidied up earlier. Is this the one?" She pulled the sheet out and handed it over to Hermione.

Hermione took the proffered parchment and skimmed it over, "Oh thank you, Ginny! This is the one I was looking for." She gave the slim red head a brief hug; "you don't know how worried I was about this."

Ginny grinned, "No problem, it must have got caught up with my own parchments when you were packing up, I just picked it up thinking it was one of my own."

Hermione nodded, "Thank you again, Ginny." Ginny put her pile of parchments on the spare cushion beside her as she once again curled up into Seamus' side; "It's no problem, Hermione, honestly."

As Hermione closed the door she saw Ginny lean in close to Seamus, slipping a hand over his thigh. They were both grinning and Ginny appeared to whisper something into his ear. Hermione frowned and closed the door. Seamus was apparently going out with a girl from Ravenclaw, but they had been getting closer over the past couple of weeks. Well, if their friendship served to cheer Ginny up a bit, then there couldn't be any bad in it.

Hermione examined the parchment as she walked, just to be doubly sure. It was a little creased, but that was to be expected considering it had been rather unceremoniously stuffed into a book bag with many other pages. She sighed. For a few minutes she had been worried that the visions had fallen into the wrong hands – not that anyone else would have been able to decipher them better than Firenze, Dumbledore and Ron combined – it was still a nasty scare she could have done without.

When she reached the Room of Requirement, Harry, Draco and Ron were preparing to leave for the night. In fact, Harry was just putting the photograph and it's new frame in his bag. "I found it. Ginny picked it up with her own work earlier. I don't know how I missed it, but at least no one else picked it up."

Ron sighed with relief and handed her one of her packed bags. "Good. I think we're going to have to come up with a way of concealing all the work we do on this though. We should have a look for a charm that hides the writing from all but those intended to see it."

Hermione put the parchment in her satchel, with all her other notes and picked up her book bag. Harry blinked at her and then asked, "Could we do something like the charm the Marauders used on the map?"

Draco, who had been slipping his bag strap over his shoulder, frowned at them all, "Marauders? Map?"

"That's a fantastic idea, Harry!" Hermione beamed at her friend, "Ask Professor Lupin about it next time you see him." Draco looked at each of them in turn, a baffled expression on his face. Harry patted him on the shoulder, "I'll tell you about it later, it may explain a few things."

Hermione shared an amused glance with Ron.

………………

Draco headed straight for the dungeons and Snape's office after leaving the Room of Requirement. He had promised Harry he would leave his questions until they met on the roof later that evening. After the mention of Professor Lupin's name, he had a fair idea of who these 'Marauders' were, but he was intently interested to hear the full story from Harry, especially concerning the map that was mentioned.

As it was, he was visiting Snape first, to see if the Potions Master would be able to help him with his wrist. Over the past few days, it had been getting steadily more painful, so much so that he was beginning to have difficulties hiding the pain from Harry. Worryingly, the pain was no longer radiating to his elbow, it was now painful all the way up into the joint, as if he had damaged something inside his arm that was steadily getting worse, rather than better.

He rubbed at the offending joint as he walked. It wasn't likely to be the break he had suffered over the summer, as it was the wrong arm entirely. He had thought, that seeing as he was left-handed, it may be something to do with repetitive strain injury, but as the pain had grown up into his elbow, it now seemed unlikely.

Draco nearly growled at himself in frustration. Why couldn't he figure out what was wrong? He knew his body so well, he sometimes knew days ahead of time that something was wrong with him. But there had been no warning signs of this strange affliction.

Well whatever it was, it was something to keep between himself and his head of year. By rights, he should have been going to Madame Pomfrey, the schools Medi-Witch, but he didn't trust her and certainly didn't like her bustling, motherly ways. He could trust Snape to keep his problems in confidence as well as to treat him with only the best potions. Hand made by the Professor himself, of course.

Rubbing his arm again he noticed some furtive movement ahead of him in the shadowy corridor. He frowned, but when he reached the area there was nothing to see, no door to go through or tapestry to hide behind. Shrugging, he promptly forgot anything untoward had even happened.

There were flickering green lights and a rather putrid smell of smoke emanating from under the door to Professor Snape's workroom when he reached it. Draco recognised the scent, tobacco. He wrinkled his nose; it had always seemed strange to him that Snape smoked and stranger still that he smoked the foul Muggle stuff, rather than the treated and safe Wizarding. It did explain his bad teeth and yellow fingers though, as the man smoked as if his life depended on it, polishing off at least thirty a day.

He rapped firmly on the door. The flickering green light stopped and Snape opened the door with a harassed look and, sure enough, a hand rolled cigarette clamped between his thin lips. "Master Malfoy, shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"Not quite yet, Sir. Curfew's not for another hour."

Snape snorted and opened the door further, motioning for Draco to enter, "You may as well come in then." Professor Snape removed the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he did so.

Draco perched in his usual spot on one of the benches and watched as, cigarette expertly held between two fingers, Snape pottered about with two cauldrons. One of them emitted strange, flickering green lights as it was stirred in a stiff figure of eight. When he was done, Snape damped the fires under both cauldrons, turned and lifted the cigarette to his mouth, dragging on it with what looked like pure pleasure.

Wreathed in an exhalation of smoke, Snape asked, "So, what can I do for you, Draco?"

Draco wrinkled his nose again, "I was wondering if you could take a look at my arm for me?" He rubbed at his elbow again; "It's still giving me some discomfort."

Snape stubbed the cigarette out and pointed his wand at the various candles and torches in the room, lighting them or brightening them. "Which arm?" Draco held his arm up and Snape approached. He slowly moved his wand up and down Draco's arm, about an inch above it as he held his wrist with two fingers, apparently keeping track of Draco's pulse.

"There doesn't appear to be any damage, nothing beyond a strain. When does it hurt?"

Draco's arm dropped as Snape pocketed his wand and crossed his arms. He rubbed his wrist, "All the time, Sir."

He watched the ever-present frown deepen between the professor's eyebrows. Snape turned and pulled out another cauldron, set it up and lit a small magical fire beneath it. Draco continued to rub his arm in an absent manner as he watched Snape turn to peruse the various bottles and jars on his shelves.

"Describe the pain to me, in as much detail as you can."

Draco thought for a moment, contemplating the injured arm, "Most of the time it aches and throbs. At the moment my wrist and elbow feel hot, with the pain radiating between the two. Sometimes though, it's sharp, suddenly so painful that I'll drop whatever I'm holding – it feels like a knife being shoved in the joints."

Snape regarded him for a moment and then turned back to the shelves, muttering to himself. Draco watched in silence for a while, thinking. Ever since he had seen Snape sneaking about the hallways, he had been wondering what the Professor had been up to. There were the obvious conclusions of course, one of which was that he was spying for Dumbledore, once again playing the part of a double agent, something Lucius had told him Snape had been accused of after Voldemort's defeat over a decade ago. But there were also the less obvious conclusions – perhaps he was working on a particularly potent potion, or developing some other means of defeating the Dark Hoards?

He wondered, briefly, if Snape was spying, had he seen his parents? He didn't particularly care to know much about Lucius, but his mother… After the way she had reacted to him at the mansion, he had to know something, anything about her. Was she under Voldemort's thrall? Or was she acting of her own volition?

Draco watched Snape's back for a few moments more, battling with his curiosity. Eventually, he gave in; he had to ask. "Professor Snape…" he balked slightly, "Do you still see the Death Eaters?"

Snape looked at him over his shoulder, "Why do you ask?"

Draco shrugged and looked at the floor.

Going back to his cauldron, Snape appeared to ignore the matter. They continued in silence for several minutes, until Draco began to think the matter had been dropped entirely. He was surprised when Snape spoke.

"If you are asking for news of your family, I am sorry to disappoint you. Professor Dumbledore decided that it was too dangerous for me to continue as I had been. I am now confined to the Grounds, for as long as need be."

Draco was a little surprised, what would warrant that? "Why? What changed?"

Snape gave him a long look; Draco thought was almost a hint of resignation in the mans expression, "Azkaban was attacked, Master Malfoy. That is what changed."

Of course, the break out and mass murder. Still, maybe he could give him some news of his mother?

"Before that, though…Did you see my mother often?"

Snape began to stir whatever concoction he had created, slowly and deliberately. "I saw her, yes. In your fathers absence, she replaced him as The dark Lord's second. She is privy to most of what He plans, she very probably knows more than the rest of His followers about what is going on."

Draco sighed. Just like his father, she had probably disowned him then. Which made her behavior toward him a little less strange. Now he truly had no family. Apart from Harry and perhaps Crabbe and Goyle, he realised no one must care for him anymore.

Snape was watching him. He sat up a little straighter and shrugged, "She must be happy then, to be His second and have her husband back."

Snape nodded very slightly and turned back to the cauldron. After a moments thought, Draco realised Snape must have felt this way once, perhaps he still did. Professor Snape must be a lonely man and being confined to the school grounds must make it all the worse. A twinge in his wrist dragged his attention away from the studious professor and he spent a moment cradling the painfully throbbing wrist to his chest, eyes closed, teeth clenched.

When it gradually faded to a dull ache once more, he opened his eyes and found Snape was spooning the mixture into a small vial. He shifted slightly in anticipation. Eventually, Snape turned, stoppering the vial with a small cork. He handed it over and Draco gratefully looked at the strangely coloured liquid.

"Take a spoonful of this every night before going to bed, it should work overnight to lesson the pain to something you can live with during the day. I will need you to come back once a week for a refill and to allow me to check the joints – I'm not entirely sure what the ailment is, but I will continue to research it. Hopefully, I will find a cure soon enough."

Draco smiled, "Thankyou Sir, I'm very grateful."

Snape nodded, once again folding his arms, "Now, be off, and mind that you don't overdo it on that wrist."

Draco nodded, pocketed the vial and left the room, spying the tobacco and papers being brought from various pockets on Snape's robes as he did so.

………………

Frustration. Anger.

Lucius' days were filled with almost nothing else now. Since his first meeting with the Dark Lord, when Wormtail had provoked him and paid the price, Lucius had been confined to the same three rooms where the meeting had taken place. A library come office, a bedroom and bathroom were all the space he was afforded.

To top off the confined feeling, meals were brought to him three times a day by a silent and unnamed Death Eater who was always masked. He didn't know whether the Death Eater was male or female, though it didn't matter either way.

Lucius spent his days reading, thinking up ways of dealing with Potter, contemplating his situation and pacing in circles around the small library. He ate what was given to him, but only after testing the food for as many poisons as he could think of – and the list he could think of was quite extensive – and only after the Death Eater had left the room. Checking his food every day had become a ritual that was keeping him sane.

Since his re-incarceration in the new luxury prison, at the behest of his Lord and Master, he had been visited only twice by his wife. Both times she had stayed for only a few minutes and both times only to pass on some information from Voldemort. The first message had been that Wormtail had survived and was healing well, despite his extensive injuries. The second time had been brief, and only to inform him that the plans already in place were going precisely as expected.

Lucius threw down his book in frustration and climbed to his feet. He paced to the window and stood looking at the sky. This was not the life he had imagined for himself after escaping Azkaban. He had expected to be welcomed back into the Death Eater ranks, to join his fellows on their raids, their missions. He had expected to be privy to the plans of his lord, to lead the Death Eaters in the attacks against those who supported Wizarding and Muggle integration.

Mostly, he had expected to return as husband to his wife.

Unfortunately, that was one of his major frustrations. He had not been with his wife in over a year when the Death Eaters had freed him and the others from Azkaban. From that moment, he had longed to hold, touch, kiss his beloved, but from that moment, he had seen her only from a distance, arm in arm with his Lord.

He felt more than a little uncouth, but he ached to be with Narcissa; to kiss her, stroke her hair, press against her smooth, lithe body. He lay awake at night, unable to banish her from his thoughts, which only frustrated him more.

From a combination of being locked up again, boredom, missing his wife and not being properly informed of what was actually happening around him, Lucius' anger was building, his frustration rising to a new pitch and his resentment was deepening. He had even begun entertaining thoughts of escaping and hiding until the War was over and he no longer had to compete for his wife's affections.

He laughed lightly and pressed his forehead against the windowpane. It was a ridiculous idea, not only because the Dark Lord would capture, torture and kill him, but also because he was not entirely certain his wife would join him.

There was a nock on the door and he looked up. Narcissa was entering the room. He stood straighter and moved away from the window, "'Cissa." He began to wonder what news she brought this time.

She smiled at him; it was the first smile he had received from her since his rescue. He pursed his lips, unsure of how to react to the woman he loved, the woman whose very fidelity he could no longer trust. "What news today, 'Cissa?"

She stepped further into the room and smiled more warmly, "Just another update, I'm afraid, Husband. Wormtail is up and about, as ingratiating and slimy as ever. He wants our Lord to torture you, kill you if possible, for what you did to him."

Lucius moved closer and rested his left hand on the back rest of the mahogany coloured leather sofa, "Has Voldemort acquiesced to his obsequious demands?" He watched his wife with his eyes, following her every movement as she moved closer still, until there was only the coffee table and sofa between them. Her blonde hair glimmered in the light of the candles, her complexion fairly glowed and as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her nineteen thirties style Muggle dress pulled taught, showing every curve of her body.

As she looked at him, he took a deep breath to calm himself. She blinked languorously and smiled as she spoke, "Our Lord was firm with Wormtail. You are needed for his plans to come to fruition, no action is to be taken." She paused as Lucius allowed this to sink in, "You are still important to Him, Husband. Never forget that."

He crossed quickly around the sofa and grabbed her upper arm; "I am needed? For what, Narcissa? Why does no one speak to me of what is happening here?" Narcissa started, obviously shocked, but she appeared to regain her composure, staring back into his eyes without blinking, "Lucius," she said, tightly, "trust me, I cannot tell you any more than I already have."

Lucius leaned so close that he could almost taste her, "Cannot or will not?" He breathed in deeply of her scent as he waited for her to respond.

"I cannot, Lucius. Despite what you believe, Voldemort does not even entrust me with the details of his plans." She tried to remove her arm from his grip, but Lucius simply shifted his grip and lifted his other hand to her free arm, gripping tightly on both. "Since the battle at the Ministry, he has become closed to us, he makes sure we all know enough to do as he wishes, without knowing so much that the Aurors could break it from us if captured."

Lucius closed his eyes briefly. It made sense, of course, as Voldemort's thinking usually did. He sighed and opened his eyes again. Narcissa was watching him intently; her pale eyes were intense. "'Cissa…" he breathed. He couldn't help himself; it had been far too long. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

For a moment Narcissa was stiff, upright, unrelenting, but as he continued to press their lips together and gently pried at her with his tongue, he felt her melt against him. Her lips parted and they were kissing as they had done before the Dark Lord returned to the world, before the Potter boy had become such a nuisance, before their lives had been turned upside down.

He released her arms and slipped a hand into her glorious hair, the other onto her hip, pulling her to him as her arms went around his neck, clutching the collar of his shirt as they passed. She really had not changed in the months since he had last seen her, she was still aggressively passionate, her body still firm, her kiss still as refreshing as the very first.

Their kiss deepened and Narcissa pressed harder against him; one hand dropped from his neck, fingers trailing down his chest, gently tickling his stomach, catching on his flies before cupping him. He moaned into her mouth, pressing into her hand. "Lucius, it has been – so long," she breathed into his mouth as he moved his hand from her hip to grip the cloth of her dress, lifting the h

em inch by inch.

He slipped his hand up under her dress, first caressing her buttocks before trailing his fingers gently up her body, skimming her smooth flesh, glorying in the feel of his wife's body after so long without her. He kissed her neck as he moved both hands now under her dress, one slipping beneath her underwear, the other moving up and caressing her breast. She gripped him tightly as he pressed harder into her kneading hand. He slipped a hand onto her back and breathed against her neck as she began to rub him, rough and quick.

It had been too long, far too long since he had been with his wife. He bit into her neck as she quickened the pace. She gasped and he slipped a finger between her legs, moving as he knew she liked. Within moments she was gasping for air almost as much as he was himself. He slipped a finger inside her, remembering her warmth and the feel of her gripping him tightly. She sighed into his ear and he could feel himself reaching climax, he rubbed against her hand as he did, but did not remove his finger from within her.

As he came, she continued to rub him, bringing fresh waves of pleasure, even as he continued to pleasure her. Lucius grabbed her mouth with his and they kissed passionately as his body began to calm down and hers began to tighten. He moved a second finger inside and quickened his pace, enjoying the feel of her tightening around him.

She pressed suddenly against him, squeezing his fingers tightly as she came. He pressed his forehead against hers; eyes closed as he gently removed his fingers. She shuddered slightly and he opened his eyes to watch her smile at him, in gratified pleasure.

"Thank you, Lucius. I've missed you." She kissed him gently before removing herself from him. He breathed deeply as she replaced her skirt and straightened her hair. He watched as she backed away, leaving him alone.

"'Cissa?"

She smiled again, "Sorry, Husband. I'll come back again when I can. Please forgive me?"

He blinked, not understanding, his head still not quite working. Narcissa turned and left the room without glancing back at him, not even once.

Not knowing what to do, how to react, Lucius stepped back until the backs of his knees hit the sofa and he sat down with a thump. He winced as his trousers tightened uncomfortably. He still didn't know what was going on. If anything, he was more confused now than he had been before Narcissa had walked into the room.

Lucius sighed, placing his face into his open palms. He didn't know who to trust anymore; not his Master, not his fellow Death Eaters nor even his wife of twenty years.

After a few minutes had passed, he wiped his face and stood up. He crossed to the bathroom with the sole intention of washing away the dirtiness of the situation and collecting his thoughts.

………………

Harry turned as a noise broke through his silent watch of the mountains around the school. He smiled when he saw Draco stepping daintily around the various gargoyles and small turrets. "Finally made it then, where have you been?"

Draco looked up, nearly slipping on the tiles as he did so, "Oof! Bloody hell…" he regained his balance and Harry tried not to laugh as he wended his way over, muttering under his breath as he did so. Finally, Draco sat down next to him and after a moment to catch his breath explained. "I went down to see Snape. He's given me a potion for my wrist – nothing to worry about, it was just getting on my nerves."

Harry nodded and slipped and arm around Draco's middle, pulling him closer, both for warmth and for the pleasure of it. They hadn't been alone together for a while, what with work piling up and the numerous visions Ron had been given. Merlin knew the last year of school was bad enough without having all the extra responsibilities of being Harry Potter to boot.

Draco shifted and wrapped an arm around Harry's middle. For a moment they simply sat in silence, looking at the mountains and the stars. Then Draco poked him in the ribs, "Hey! What was that for?"

"You didn't tell Professor Lupin again, Harry. When are you going to remember?"

Harry pulled a face at Draco and settled back again, "I'll tell him at my next DADA session. It was all a bit hectic today."

"And that's another thing, Harry, don't go blowing yourself up, ok? I'd rather be there if anything happened to you and whereas I can beat the crap out of a Death Eater for trying to kill you, when you do it yourself all I can do is worry and yell at you later."

Harry laughed – that was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to him! Draco was giving his an annoyed look, he wiped a hand down his face and tried to stop laughing, "Sorry Draco, I'll do my best. I'll make sure you're the first to know if I do it again, ok?" He grinned in a vain attempt to stop the laughter from bubbling up again.

Draco nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Oh, I've been practicing by the way. Look" He flicked his wrist slightly and pulled a glass rose out of the air. It shimmered in the moonlight, looking almost as if it were made from starlight. He looked at Draco, a smile he couldn't hide playing about his lips.

"You really are a soppy bugger, Harry." Draco took the rose and held it delicately, smiling as he turned it round, looking at it from every angle.

Harry was pleased, maybe he was a soppy bugger, but being able to do something like that was a big thing to him. It meant that he was growing, in strength as well as control. And Draco seemed to like the little display; he was running the smooth glass petals over his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Did you learn a spell to do that, or …what?"

Harry shrugged, leaning back against the sloping tiles and looking at the sky, "I just wanted to do it and it happened. It's almost like a summoning charm, only there's nowhere to summon it from – I just summon it from my mind."

Draco gave him a slightly startled look. "That's how Merlin used to work! Do you know what you're saying?"

Harry shook his head, he really didn't – surely it couldn't be that important?

"Harry, you're performing magic that hasn't been seen since the time of Merlin and Morgana, not even Dumbledore does his wandless magic in that way. Dumbledore studied for years to reach the level he has. I've seen my father practicing wandless magic in the past – the magic they perform is exactly the same as the magic we learn at school, only the power is channeled through the hand or through the eyes instead of a wand."

Harry took a deep breath. That wasn't what he was doing at all.

Draco continued, "It may look like what most of the wandless practitioners is doing is conjuring out of nothing, but they simply think the spell instead of speak it and gesture with the hand or eyes instead of the wand. But you, you don't even think a spell do you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, what I want to happen simply happens – there's no spell, unless I'm doing something I already know a spell for." He sighed, this was all a little over his head, "I'm definitely going to talk to Remus about this. I suppose I ought to tell Dumbledore as well."

Draco nodded; he looked a little subdued.

Harry pulled him down and gathered him in his arms. The blonde protested slightly, but then gave in and they lay in silence for a while, arms wrapped tightly about each other. Harry watched the clouds slowly moving across the stars above them, great expanses of nothingness blocking out the light of the tiny suns, faintly glowing around the edges, giving form only when the light of the moon hit them. He sighed. Things were getting more and more complicated day by day.

"I suppose these powers mean I can protect you and Ron and Hermione better now."

Draco shifted and leaned up slightly, looking down at him; "You need to stop thinking like that. We know how to look after ourselves, even the Weasel." Harry smirked at the name. "By all means, use it to protect us, but don't forget it's your power, have some fun with it as well. Magic isn't just there to be used in battles, it's there to help us live our lives and create fun when we need it. The Weasley twins certainly got it right when they chose to open the joke shop. In this day and age, people need a little cheering up."

Harry closed his eyes and smiled, that was almost exactly what he had said to the twins when he had given them the Triwizard winnings. He should try listening to his own advice occasionally. He opened his eyes again and looked up at Draco, admiring his thinking and the way the moonlight played in his clear blue-gray eyes.

"Thank-you, Draco, I needed to hear that." He smiled and lifted a hand to touch Draco's cheek, gently caressing his smooth skin he slipped his hand through the silky blonde hair and cupped the back of his head pulling him down for a kiss.

All his worries disappeared as they kissed, tongues massaging one another in a slow, deliberate, passionate kiss.

A very loud sound made them both jump, "What the..?"

Draco moved and they both sat up to find Dobby standing looking at them, a pained expression on his face. Harry laughed, his heart was racing but the sound now made sense – it had just been a little louder out here and in the middle of the night than it usually was. "Dobby! You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Draco was rubbing his chest, apparently having suffered much the same reaction. "Hello, Dobby," he said a little ruefully.

Dobby bowed, his nose touching the floor and gave them both a confused look, "What is master Harry doing with master Draco?" He looked upset and was twisting his hands around and around a small package he was carrying.

Harry laughed, "Sorry Dobby, Draco is a good friend of mine – we made up over the summer."

Dobby brightened a little, "Master Harry not hate master Draco anymore?"

Draco raised an eyebrow but Harry grinned, "No Dobby, we're good friends now. What's wrong?"

"Oh! Dobby has come with a present Master!" And he held out the little package. Harry took the parcel and unwrapped it, hoping it wasn't more miss-matched socks. He was a little surprised to find two silver bracelets, one with red gems, the other with green. He looked up as Draco picked up the green gem bracelet and examined it.

"What are these for?"

Dobby bowed again, "A present for the Master and his chosen, Sir! Very powerful! Wear them always."

Harry was a little perplexed, "Who are they from, Dobby?" He picked up the red gem one and looked at it. Except for the gems, it was entirely plain, a simple band of silver. He looked at Dobby again, "Did you make these?"

Dobby shook his head, ears flapping wildly as he did so, "Not Dobby, Sir. But present from Dobby, please wear them." And with that he disappeared again with another loud crack.

Shrugging, he put the bracelet on his right wrist and was astonished to see it vanish. He could still feel it, the weight was still pressing on his skin, but it was completely invisible. He looked at Draco, who did the same. His bracelet also vanished.

"Well…However strange it may be, Dobby wouldn't give us anything harmful. We'll just get Hermione to have a look at them tomorrow, see if she can figure out what they're for."

Draco nodded. "He looked a little different to when he was at the mansion. Still as loud as ever though."

Harry smiled and nodded, "Yeah, and did you see his socks?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, "No?"

Harry laughed, "He wears odd socks, I get him them for Christmas. He seems to like them like that."

Draco smiled and shook his head.

Harry touched the bracelet again, feeling the smooth invisible metal between his fingers, turning it until he felt the gems. It was a little strange, but Dobby had been nothing but helpful – if a little disastresly so in his third year – since he had known him, so he trusted that the bracelets were harmless baubles, or if not exactly harmless, then at least intended to be helpful. He smiled again and then lay back, "I suppose we ought to get back to our dorms. Nothing worse than being tired in Potions."

………………..

………………..

WELL!

I'm so sorry this has taken so long to get done! There has been an awful lot going on in my life since I last wrote – I've finished university, I've moved into a house with my boyfriend, we've gotten engaged and I've started a new job – but I never intended to wait for so long.

I hope this latest installment will repair to damage of not keeping up with my duties, and I hope no one hates me anymore

I'll do my best from now on to get my updates down about once every three months – hopefully less!

I hope you've enjoyed this enlightening new chapter, and please, if you have any questions, go ahead and ask away, I'll do my best to respond to them all!

Hannah