Disclaimer | I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the Harry Potter-verse. This story has been created solely for my own amusement and no monetary gain has been made from its publishing.

Author's Note | I'm hoping inspiration continues for a while, allowing me to put more chapters out. This has been a work in progress for a very long time, so I'd definitely like to see me put out more than I have been. Thanks to all of you for your comments. I appreciate all of your support.

Chapter Eighteen

Anything that Can Go Wrong

Harry didn't recall setting an alarm the night before. Despite that, it still went off bright and early at an obnoxiously loud decibel. Sitting up groggily, he reached for his wand to cancel the alarm. It felt weird having his wand in hand again. He hadn't touched it in weeks. His magic had changed and he no longer needed it, but if they were to keep a low profile then he was going to need it in order to maintain the image.

Prior to the change of his body, he'd always felt a rush when he held his wand. It'd been alive and now ... now it felt like deadwood in his hand. There was the tiniest thrum of magic at its core but that was it. It was sad, really. It had been his companion since he was eleven. Hell, it was the first thing he'd ever been given that signified that he was someone special. Now it was nothing.

Pushing aside those melancholy thoughts, he stood, sticking the wand into the pocket of his sleep pants and tugging on a t-shirt. Heading out of his room, he wandered down the hall into the main common area. It was still as empty as it had been the night before but he wasn't overly concerned about it just then. Hearing some noise from the kitchen, Harry headed in that direction. Pushing open the door, he found everyone else inside the large space.

"Sleeping beauty wakes," Lothair commented, without glancing up from the book he was reading. Harry could only imagine what that book contained to interest him. They hadn't even been there a full 24 hours and Lothair was already gathering what useful information he could. Spotting Gwynn, she offered him a smile and shifted over there was room for him to take a seat.

"Why is everyone up so early?" he muttered, plopping down into the empty space.

Across from him, Draco snorted. "Classes start in twenty minutes."

Harry looked up in surprise. "What? Why the hell didn't you wake me earlier?"

Draco raised an eyebrow as Harry hurriedly began to gather food onto his plate. "Do I look like your mother?" he asked, dryly. It most certainly wasn't his responsibility to make sure the Git was up and ready for classes. He could get his little girlfriend to wake him if he needed someone to. The thought sent a flurry of irritation through him and he glared at Gwynn, but he stood by it all the same.

He made a face as Harry stuck a piece of toast in his mouth and stood. "As much as I'd like to watch you eat like a slob," he commented, brushing off his uniform, "I have places to be"

Harry hadn't even noticed that Draco had already dressed for classes. Someone must have arranged for the uniform because this one fit the blonde perfectly. Given the change in his physical form, there would have been no way that the old set would have fit.

"Do you think it's a good idea to wander off on your own?" Harry interrupted, "It's not safe!"

Draco shot him an annoyed look. "I'm not alone, you idiot," he commented, pointing to the Elf on his right that Harry hadn't even noticed. He'd been too busy checking out the new fit of Draco's clothes to be concerned with the man's presence.

The Elf, catching the flush on Harry's cheeks, just smiled and waved. "Akkar," he introduced, offering Harry a small bow of his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Uh, yeah-" Harry stuttered, still embarrassed. "Same."

"Now that we're all friends," Draco drawled, turning away from the table and heading toward the door. "I'd hurry up, Potter. You have potions first thing!"

Harry didn't bother wondering about how Draco knew his schedule, he was much too dismayed that he would have to face off against Snape first thing in the morning when he was already two weeks behind schedule.

At first, Draco hadn't been entirely sure how the hell he was even supposed to get out of the chamber. The ride down had been disgusting and had created the sense of a one-way trip. Given the fact that there used to be a Great deadly snake living down there, he supposed, that for most people, it was a one-way trip. Much to his pleasure, the shifting of the space had also created a different means of entering and exiting the Chamber; a much more convenient means.

Instead of the slimy tube that they had slipped down the day before, there was now a perfectly functioning stone staircase leading upward toward an ornate door. It seemed Hogwarts had been partial to the snake pattern since it was now carved into the door, eyes staring back at him and tail wrapping around where the door handle rested. Upon opening the door, Draco found himself in a disused corridor in the dungeons.

Convenient.

He felt Akkar emerge behind him, the guard had already disappeared into his glamour. Anyone who looked into the corridor would only see Draco, standing alone in front of a dusty tapestry depicting some long-forgotten battle. Taking stock of where this entrance was, Draco began to make his way toward the more commonly used portions of the dungeon. Snape would already be in the classroom and Draco had time before the students arrived. Snape never opened his doors until the last possible moment, preferring to keep his contact with the students to a bare minimum.

Reaching the Potions classroom, he found the door still locked. Lifting a hand, he exercised some of his magic and lifted the spell holding it closed. With a brief knock, he glanced down the length of the hallway before moving inside. He wasn't at all surprised to find a wand pointed in his direction. He had just broken in, after all.

Pausing as though to take note of the situation, he held the door open longer than he would normally in order to allow Akkar to slip inside. "Professor," he greeted, watching as the wand slowly lowered. He supposed it made sense for the man to be cautious of him.

"Draco."

Replacing the locking charm that had been on the door, Draco moved further into the classroom. Coming to a stop at the front row of desks, he casually leaned against it, legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest. "Have you found my mother?"

Snape sat back in his chair and studied Draco. He was different, that much as blatantly obvious, but Severus wasn't entirely sure how deep the changes went. He had his suspicions given the level of physical changes he'd gone through. No normal wizard's appearance altered to that extent during a magical inheritance. In fact, it rarely altered at all. On top of which, he'd managed to get through his warding spell with hardly any effort. Again, not something easily accomplished.

"I've been searching the Manor bit by bit," he admitted, with a tense glance to the blonde, "but I haven't found or heard anything that might lead me to believe that she's there."

Draco frowned, the anger he'd been holding onto rolling around inside of him. He was positive that if his mother were dead, his father would have made a scene of it. Lucius Malfoy, if nothing else, was a showman. He wanted people to look even if his actions made him seem like a madman. Since Voldemort's return, that narcissistic side of his had only strengthened. That being said, if he wanted an audience than the most likely place for her to be was the Manor. That's where the foot traffic was. There were other properties, of course, but none had as much Death Eater presence as the main estate.

"And my Father?"

Snape made a face and made a motion with his hand to dismiss the comment. "Showcasing his usual idiocy, of course."

Draco snorted. Snape and Lucius had never been the best of friends. Having them in the same room had always been a struggle ... except when his Mother had been present. The tension had always been less when she was there.

"How much does he know about me?"

"He knows that you're alive and that you've returned to Hogwarts," Snape responded, "Dumbledore made it quite clear that the information was to reach them.

Draco narrowed his eyes at that. What purpose could offering them that information serves other than drawing their attention to Hogwarts? "And Potter," he asked, raising an eyebrow, "Was his presence here also mentioned?"

Snape nodded.

Draco bit back the curse. Dumbledore was a bigger manipulative fool than Draco had previously thought. For whatever reason, he guessed that the old man had an idea about why Draco was in the company of the Elves. He probably didn't have the whole picture, but enough of an idea to try and use it to his advantage.

"He's trying to force a confrontation," he muttered, running a hand over his face. Frankly, none of them were ready for such a thing just yet ... even if that could provide him with enough of a distraction to slip back to the Manor and locate his Mother. The idea of using Potter as a distraction left an empty void in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored the pressure from the bond. "By drawing me out, he'll force that four-eyed dumbass out as well." For what purpose, he wasn't entirely sure.

Snape simply raised an eyebrow at the younger man's mutterings. "And why, exactly," he hedged, "Are you associating with Potter?"

Draco glanced back up at the question and offered a lazy shrug. "Given my options, I think the Elves are probably a safer bet than Voldemort or Dumbledore." He didn't offer up any information about his own Elf blood or the irritating bond between them. Keeping that to himself was probably in his best interest for now.

"You're not wrong," Snape responded dryly. The sound of feet scrapping in the hallway signified that they were out of time. Standing, he moved to unlock the door to the classroom. He could see the question in Draco's eyes as he moved passed him and he responded with a nod. He would continue to search for Narcissa and pass on any information that he found.

"Where the hell were you last night?" Ron asked, gruffly. "You just got back, disappear after dinner, and never return to the dorms."

Harry sighed, giving his tie another tug in an attempt to straighten it out as they hurried through the dungeons toward the Potions class. "I know, I know," Harry responded, already flustered with having started the day out late. "I'm sorry, but Dumbledore called us to his office and I didn't know I wouldn't be staying in the dorms."

"What do you mean you're not staying in the dorms?" he asked, "All students stay in the dorms."

"Clearly not all students otherwise I'd be in the dorms," Harry responded with some exasperation. He didn't really know how to explain it without going too far into information that he did not wish to share.

"I'm sure it's to protect him," Hermione cut in, shooting Harry a questioning look.

Harry shot her a grateful look and nodded his head. "With the whole inheritance thing," he shrugged, "Dumbledore thought it was prudent to take extra precaution." Of course, Dumbledore had nothing to do with the change, but he doubted Ron was going to go strolling up to Dumbledore and demand explanations. "Besides, it's not like we're not in the same classes."

Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like the word "stupid", but Harry didn't comment on it. It didn't matter if he didn't like it, so long as he accepted it. He felt bad about lying to them, but it wasn't just his arse on the line anymore.

With nothing else to say the three of them scurried down the hallway, just making it into the classroom before the doors closed on them.

"You must have read ahead on your studies, Potter if you're so confident in your skills that you can show up late to my class."

"I'm not late," he stupidly argued, "I've still got-"

"10 points from Gryffindor. Find your seats!"

Harry glowered, catching Draco's amused look from where he sat comfortably at a desk in the front of the classroom like the little suck up that he was. Sometimes he just wanted to smack that smug look off his lips ... at other times he wanted to do something else entirely, which made him feel an awful lot like he was suffering from whiplash.

Given their late arrival, there weren't any desks left together and the three of them separated. Ron immediately took the spot open beside Dean, which left Harry and Hermione to find seats with the Slytherins. Given Snape's favouritism for his own house, most of the seventh year Slytherins had taken the course. In comparison, not even half of the Gryffindors had followed suit.

Steeling himself, Harry moved to take the seat beside Zabini, while Hermione moved to sit beside one of the girls whose name Harry couldn't remember. He'd never really had any altercations with Zabini, but the intense stare he was receiving put him on edge and he couldn't quite contain the urge to shift his chair further away from him as he sat down.

Seeing the movement, Zabini just smirked and glanced back to the front.

Shooting a look across the room to Ron, the redhead shrugged and mouthed the word "sorry." Not that Harry believed for a second that he actually was. The git.

Sighing, he dug his textbook out of his bag and opened it to the page indicated on the board at the front of the classroom, while Snape went on about what they were expected to do. Harry's attention wasn't really on what he was saying, despite the fact that he could probably have used every bit of help offered to him. Potions were not his strong suit. The only reason he'd signed up for it last year was that he'd needed it to get into the Auror program. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be going into that anymore.

His eyes drifted from his notes to the blonde sitting two rows ahead of him. He supposed there were other reasons to stay in the class. He didn't have a full understanding of how the dynamics in Slytherin had changed after the events of the summer, but he figured it was better to have more eyes on the situation. Though, he thought irritably, if worse came to worse Draco could always use Parkinson as a shield. She was continuously draped all over him anyway. Might as well be useful.

Beside him Zabini cleared his throat, making Harry realize he'd been gripping the edge of the table so hard the wood was starting to creak. Flushing, he released it in a hurry and offered a sheepish smile before quickly volunteering to go and grab the necessary ingredients for the potions.

If he was honest, he was somewhat annoyed with himself for getting caught daydreaming like an idiot. Alright, it wasn't about being caught or daydreaming. He was annoyed that he was jealous of Parkinson, of all people. He was really trying to keep a lid on this bond but it was proving to be extremely difficult. He could feel it, like ... like a snake had burrowed inside of him. His chest ached painfully on a regular basis, the longer they spent apart the more nauseous and cold he felt. More importantly, his thoughts tended to darken the longer he denied the contact the bond craved.

He'd debated asking Lothair about it but he could already hear the disdain in the older Elf's voice. Maybe he'd just write to Soren and ask him. It would take longer, he supposed, but at least he was guaranteed more information and less attitude.

His thoughts drifted to the blonde again as Blaise went about preparing and adding the ingredients at the appropriate times, leaving Harry to continuously stir the potion as was instructed. They were definitely bonded, but he wondered if he had altered it during the blood transfusion. He'd done his best to focus on making the connection equal but he'd been so worried about Draco dying that perhaps it had shifted. Draco didn't seem to have the same sort of response to the bond as he did. Either that, or he was much better at hiding it than Harry was. Though, given the strength of some of the backlashes, he had a hard time believing that the blonde was capable of that.

It'd be just his luck to have bonded himself to Malfoy as a submissive.

"Stasis spell."

Harry blinked, turning his head to look at Zabini. "What?"

"Stasis spell," he repeated, more slowly before nodding to the potion.

"Oh, yeah, sorry!" Before they could add the last ingredient the potion had to remain under a stasis spell for fifteen minutes. Why? He had no bloody idea but he'd learned not to ask questions.

Distractedly, he lifted his wand and cast the appropriate stasis spell. Without compensating for the fact that he no longer needed the wand, his magic flowed through the piece of holly, shattering it and erupting the otherwise docile potion in front of him with a loud bang, startling the entire classroom as he, Zabini, and everyone within a three-foot radius were covered in pale blue goo. Pieces of his wand were scattered around them, a smouldering feather at his feet the only indication that it had actually been a wand.

For a moment no one moved, they all just sat there, wide-eyed and staring.

"Your incompetence continues to astound me, Potter."

Glancing away from the wreckage, Harry blinked up at a furious Snape, goo dripping off him. He was pretty sure there were blue specks in the man's greasy hair and he just groaned, glancing back at the mess in front of him. "Thank you, sir."

At first, he didn't quite register the sound but after a moment he could clearly make out snickering before it turned into full-blown laughter. Lifting his head, his eyes widened in surprise. Two rows ahead Draco was laughing. Actually laughing. He hadn't even seen him honestly smile in weeks. His laughter seemed to set others off because a second later, everyone else had joined in ... with the exception of Zabini. He looked like he wanted to murder him. The others who'd had the misfortune of sitting close to them also did not see the humour in the situation.

"Sorry," he muttered, even if a part of him felt lighter at Draco's continued laughter.

"They've returned to the mortal realm, my lord."

"And the High Lords?" Roland watched the image ahead of him flicker momentarily before focusing once more.

"Only Lothair has travelled with them, accompanied by eight guards."

He sat for a moment, letting the information settle. If Lothair had gone that meant Soren and Ilaria would take the time to mobilize their defences accordingly. With the Prince gone, the coronation would be put off and the protective wards of the city would remain penetrable. That was good news on its own. Made things much easier.

"Where are they located?"

"They've returned to a wizarding school. It appears that the High Prince and his Consort have a connection to this place. Another individual is seeking the life of the Prince."

"Interesting," he chuckled, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

"There are several layers to the situation here. This Dark Lord, they all fear, has his own plans, but the Headmaster of this school might prove useful to you. He has his own manipulations in play."

"Continue to watch for now," Roland responded, moving to stand. "I'll send him an invitation when I'm ready."

"Understood."

The image flickered out as Roland moved to glance over the maps spread out on the table in front of him. Things were progressing nicely. Soon enough, they'd be ready to move.

By the time Harry arrived at the Great Hall for lunch with Ron, having just returned from a rather disastrous herbology class involving Venomous Tentacula. There were little stinging bite marks along his inner arm to prove it. Madame Pomfrey had insisted he go up to see Madame Pomfrey since the venom could be quite potent ... cept it wasn't exactly potent enough to do him any harm. Still stung like hell though.

Arriving at the Gryffindor table, Harry plopped down beside Hermione with a groan, leaning forward and letting his head fall to the table with a loud thud, causing Hermione to reach out and steady her glance of pumpkin juice.

"How's your arm?"

Glancing up at her incredulously, he asked, "How in the bloody hell do you even know about it?"

Hermione just snorted and glanced at Neville who turned a bit pink about the ears. "Sorry, Harry," he muttered, looking more apologetic than Harry really thought he needed to be. "She asked how the class had gone."

Harry just sighed and waved it off. Sitting up, he pulled his sleeve up and showed her the angry red marks. "Apparently, I will survive." He was pretty sure if anything was going to kill him it was going to be the length of this day.

"Well, look at it this way," Ron commented, taking a huge bite out of his sandwich before continuing, "it can- get -uch worse."

Before Hermione could admonish him for talking with his mouth full, loud laughter echoed from the end of the Slytherin table, drawing Harry's attention. Draco was sitting with his usual group, casually talking away while the others laughed. Given the somewhat annoyed look on Zabhini's face, he had a pretty good idea what the blond git was talking about.

As though sensing his glare, Draco glanced up meeting Harry's eyes and smirked. Refusing to stare at the idiot any longer, Harry glanced away to glower murderously at Ron's tie. Sometimes, Harry really just wished he'd left the idiot floating in the river. Of course, whenever, he thought about such things, the pressure in his chest intensified so any pleasure he got over it was quickly erased.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Hermione's concerned question had him glancing up in at the question, belatedly realizing he'd been rubbing the spot above his heart again. This was twice she'd caught him doing that today and the look on her face told him he better not say he was fine.

"Just heartburn," he lied.

"Heartburn?"

"Yes," he nodded, "Heartburn. Sometimes it happens when you get old."

Across from Ron snorted. "Give the guy a break, Hermione. He's fine."

She still didn't look all that convinced, but she didn't press further. "Have you spoken to McGonagall yet about Quidditch?" she asked, her eyes studying Harry closely.

"No," he responded, slowly, "Why would I need to talk to McGonagall about it? I've only been gone for two weeks. Games haven't even started yet."

The look on her face said he was clearly missing something. "You should probably go and talk to McGonagall."

Glancing to Ron, the redhead just offered him a shrug.

Taking Hermione's advice, Harry had headed to McGonagal's office once classes were over and, if he was completely honest, he deeply regretted having gone.

"What do you mean I can't play Quidditch?" he asked incredulously. "I'm the bloody captain!"

McGonagall gave him a disgruntled look. "I know your position on the team, Potter," she sighed, taking a seat behind her desk. "And frankly, I don't particularly want to remove you from the team. I rather enjoy winning."

"This is ridiculous!" he grumped. "I've only just got here. I couldn't possibly have done anything yet to warrant being kicked off the team."

"It has nothing to do with poor behaviour. You're an elf," McGonagall said plainly. "Your increased senses and speed give you an unfair advantage over the other students."

"I won't use my enhanced senses then!"

McGonagall, being who she was, didn't bother to even try and hide the skeptical snort that escaped her. "Potter," she said dryly, "asking you to hold back on the pitch is like asking you to stay out of trouble."

"It's not impossible," he argued, even though he wasn't entirely sure if he could actually dampen them completely.

"I'm sorry, Potter, but the decision has already been made," McGonagall commented, offering him an apologetic smile. Like Harry, she was also a fan of the sport and she understood the disappointment he was feeling. "If you have any suggestions on who to promote as Captain, I'll be more than happy for the input."

Harry nodded, the wind finally being blown out of his sails. There were plenty of people on the team who were good players, but he could only really think of one who would take it seriously. "Ginny," he commented, glumly. "Do me a favour though?"

"Certainly," she commented, though the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth told Harry she might already know what he was going to say.

"Don't tell Ron I passed him up for his sister?"

This time McGonagall offered him a chuckle. "It's a promise."

Standing, Harry turned and headed gloomily to the door, Gwynn's silent presence following him. He'd just reached for the door when a thought struck him and he glanced back. "Were there any other team changes? I mean, from the other teams?"

For a moment McGonagall looked confused before she shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of." She was going to ask why he thought there might be but some sort of cloud seemed to pass over his face before he was gone.

"A pleasure as always," she commented, her tone somewhat dry as she stared at the slightly open door.

Harry was much too annoyed to be overly concerned with his abrupt departure from McGonagall's office. Annoyed wasn't a strong enough word for what he was currently feeling. Rage, perhaps? Very intense dislike that wasn't quite hate? He wanted to go with hate, but the ever-present weight on his chest was a clear indication that he didn't hate the giant blonde git.

"Harry," the hissed comment came from behind him where Gwynn was still under a glamour. "You're moving too quickly. You're gathering attention."

"I don't care," was all she got for her efforts as Harry focused on the path he needed to make it back to the Chamber. They still had some time before dinner, so he was pretty sure Malfoy would be down there. It wasn't exactly like he could go and hang out in the Slytherin common room.

Ignoring the stares he was getting, he rushed down into the dungeons, following a path he was surprised he even remembered until he found himself standing in front of the tapestry they had emerged from behind earlier. Passing through, he headed down the long staircase into the main chamber. Someone had filled the empty space with furniture, but he barely spared it a glance. He didn't have any interest in furniture.

He could hear them in the kitchen and he made a beeline for them, throwing the door open and glancing around until his eyes fell on the culprit. "You!"

Draco raised an eyebrow at the very hostile looking finger pointed at him. "Me," he drawled.

"Why are you still playing Quidditch?"

"I'm not playing quidditch," Draco responded, "I'm sitting here recounting your epic failure for those who missed it today."

"That's not-" He made a very loud irritated noise that sounded like a borderline growl. "Why are you still on the Quidditch team?"

"Because I'm good, obviously."

Harry was pretty sure his head was going to explode. His eye was just going to stop twitching and his brain was going to explode all over the room. Maybe it'd land in Draco's hair and piss him off good. That'd be nice.

"Why-" he started again slowly, "are you on the quidditch team when I've been kicked off for having enhanced senses and physical abilities that surpass the ordinary student?"

"Oh that," Draco smirked, "Well, that's simple. No one knows I have enhanced senses and physical abilities that surpass the ordinary student ... at least more than usual."

Harry just blinked at him. "What?"

"Unlike you," he commented, "I didn't blab to Dumbledore about my newfound abilities, which means that as far as they're concerned I'm my usual self."

"You can't be-" Harry scrambled for an argument. He was right. It'd never come up that Draco was an Elf. All they knew was that they'd somehow saved him from being tortured by Lucius. That was it. "Well, you need to quit."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's cheating!"

"And?"

"And? It's cheating! If you don't tell them, I will!" Harry threatened, but Draco just smirked at him.

"You can't because we're not supposed to be sharing more information with them about us than is absolutely necessary, hence the reason most of us are under glamors when we leave here."

Harry glanced incredulously to Lothair who just raised an eyebrow. In truth, nothing the blonde had said had been a lie. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile. When he didn't get any help from the older elf, Harry turned back to Draco with a dark look. Sometimes he really just wanted to hate him.

Spinning around, he headed out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. From the other side the rest of them could quite clearly hear the angry shout echoing through the main chamber.

Beside Draco, Akkar turned his head to glance at his charge. "Did you not resign from this Quidditch earlier?"

"Yes," Draco smirked and took a drink. "Yes, I did."

By the time Harry made it to the great hall for dinner, he was still fuming and cursing the blonde idiot he'd bound himself to for all of bloody eternity. Well, maybe not eternity. That was a bit dramatic. They weren't immortal. They could die. They would die ... eventually. Eventually seemed like a very long time right about then.

Despite the fact that his plate was full of food that he'd placed there himself, he had barely touched it. Instead, Hermione kept shooting him sympathetic looks every time he viciously stabbed a piece of food. Of course, he couldn't exactly tell them that the giant ice ferret was going to still play Quidditch despite the advantage while he, himself, had to suffer in the stands. They simply thought his discontent was due to not being allowed to play.

Across from him, Ron seemed equally upset. The news hadn't been announced to the rest of the team yet so they couldn't exactly talk about it ... or rather, Ron couldn't complain publicly about it. Harry had given them some excuse about wanting to keep him protected because the order thought Voldemort would be stepping up his movements now that Harry was back. It was a load of crap, but they both seemed to buy it.

Of course, with the way Ron was shovelling food into his mouth, it was hard to tell he was anything but devastatingly hungry. Having decided that he wasn't going to tell the redhead about the piece of chicken stuck in his teeth, Harry's eyes shifted across the hall to the familiar head of blonde hair.

If he hadn't known any better, Harry would have assumed that everything was right as rain over at the Slytherin table. Pansy was in her usual spot attached to Draco's side and they all seemed to be having a mighty fine conversation. The only sign that there might be trouble was the placement of the group. Rather than sitting in the middle of the table for the most attention, they were located at the end, Crabbe and Goyle acting as buffers between the remainder of the table.

"Harry!"

Blinking, he turned his head to glance at Hermione, "I was listening, Hermione."

"Were you?" she asked dryly, nodding toward his hand.

Following her line of sight, he spotted the fork in his hand was now bent at a ninety-degree angle. Flushing slightly, he took it and subtly bent it back into shape. "Well, I was," he argued. "You think we should start on that report Professor McGonagall gave us, but you know well enough that there's no way Ron or I are going to hole up in the library working on it when we still have two weeks before it's due."

Hermione huffed at that. "Of course not," she responded, "You'll wait till the night before and then beg me to help you!"

Glancing back up from his now straight fork, he raised an eyebrow. "If you knew that already then why are you insisting that we go with you to the library after dinner?"

"Silly me for thinking you might have matured over the summer," she responded dryly.

Harry turned to glance at Ron and raised an eyebrow in question. Ron, for his part, just shrugged and said. "I think overestimating our interest in our education helps her refrain from murdering us in our sleep."

"Ah."

Beside him, Hermione rolled her eyes loudly. Harry could practically hear the exaggerated movement of her eyes in their sockets as she expressed her complete and utter exasperation. If he was honest, he was sometimes surprised that she had put up with their nonsense for as long as she had ... then again, in all fairness, it wasn't like she was innocent. She'd joined in on just as much nonsense.

Movement on the other side of the room drew Harry's attention and he glanced away from Hermione. His eyes landed back on Draco and the good humour he'd been feeling started to drift away. The angry slowly returned and the weight on his chest seemed to press down harder. Was this what his life was going to be now? Any happiness he might feel forever doomed to be crushed under the weight of this bond? He didn't regret his choice. He couldn't. That knowledge, however, didn't make it any easier to adjust.

He watched as Draco and his group of Slytherins moved toward the door, having already finished their dinner. In comparison Harry had barely touched him. His appetite had suffered beneath the weight of his emotional turmoil. As they slipped through the door, Harry's body tensed enough that Hermione took notice.

"Harry..." she started, eying his tense frame and already knowing what it was he wanted to do. "It's not worth it."

That only irritated him further. A public confrontation with Draco and his lackeys was most certainly not worth it ... and yet, he thought it was completely worth it. His entire body called for the confrontation. It'd bring them closer and then maybe the pressure would let off a bit and he could refocus on what he needed to do.

Ignoring the warning, Harry stood and headed for the door. Behind him Hermione sighed and he could hear the scrapping of chairs against the floor as she and Ron stood to follow him. He wasn't concerned about whether or not they followed. He was just as content if they did as he was if they didn't.

By the time he had entered the entrance hall, Draco and the others were gone. Focusing on his senses, he listened for a moment before the distinctive sound of Draco's voice reached him from the entrance into the dungeons. Of course, where else would they go?

Turning in that direction, he made a sprint for the stairs, startling some poor first year as they were coming up late to dinner. "Sorry," he muttered, shooting down the stairs and ignoring Ron's call for him to wait up.

Unbothered by the darker atmosphere, Harry moved along with ease until he came upon the group in question. "Malfoy!"

Ahead of him, the entire group turned to look at him with varying expressions. Crabbe and Goyle gave him what he was sure were supposed to be a threatening glare, Zabini was eying him curiously, and Pansy ... well, he didn't really want to think too much on the look she was giving him. Draco, however, just looked bored.

"We need to talk!" Harry insisted.

It was Pansy who responded, slipping an arm around Draco's waist. "And why would he need to talk to you, Potter?"

"It's none of your damn business, is it?"

Pansy raised an amused eyebrow. "No? Well, I guess we'll just continue on then, shall we?"

"You can continue on to wherever the hell you like," Harry growled, his eyes moving from Pansy to Draco, "You and I are going to talk."

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't comment since Pansy was already cutting in. "He's kind of busy right now, can't you see?"

When she leaned into him further, Harry couldn't quite control his body and he moved forward so quickly it looked to the others like he'd suddenly just appeared in front of Pansy, a dark look on his face as they stood nose to nose. The sudden movement and the threatening aura pouring off of him was enough to startle her back a couple of steps, removing her from Draco's side.

She wasn't the only one startled. Suddenly there were four different wands pointed at him. Before the lot of them could hex the idiot, Draco reached out and placed a hand on Harry's chest, keeping him from advancing on Pansy and motioned with his other hand for the rest of them to lower their wands and signalling their hidden guards to stand down as well. "Relax, Potter, before you get yourself into trouble."

"Harry!"

Harry didn't respond to Ron's shout, but Draco glanced briefly in his direction with an annoyed look. Things were already tense without that brainless oaf jumping in. At the arrival of the Gryffindors, Crabbe and Goyle moved to block their way, which had the redhead drawing his own wand and pointing it at them.

"Let him go!"

Rolling his eyes, he glanced back to Harry who seemed to be frozen in place. His shoulders had relaxed and he seemed to be leaning into Draco's hand. The weight in his own chest had lessened, but the reaction Potter was having was much stronger than his own. Interesting. "Tell them to back down," he commented, tapping his finger against Harry's chest to get his attention.

It took a moment, but Harry nodded, pulling himself away from the warmth spreading through his chest. "It's fine, Ron," he commented, his voice still somewhat distant. "We're just talking."

"Yeah," Ron scoffed, "Just talking? Surrounded by Slytherins with their wands out?"

Harry frowned, glancing around. "Do you hear that?"

Draco glanced down, pulling his eyes away from glaring at Weasley to glance at Harry, whose eyes were darting all around the corridor.

"What did you snakes do to him?" Ron shouted.

"Quiet, Ron!" Harry hissed. There was a low hum reverberating through the corridor. "Can you not hear that?"

"Hear what?" Draco asked, glancing down the hallway. He couldn't hear or see anything.

"That hum?" Harry muttered, focusing. It seemed to be coming from a variety of directions and he couldn't understand why no one else could hear it.

"Perfect," Pansy snarked, arms crossed, "He's finally lost it."

Harry ignored her, eyes closed and listening. There was something wrong, he could feel it. He just couldn't pinpoint it. His eyes snapped open when there was a sudden point of pressure before it was released directly at them. Reaching out, he shoved Draco back as whatever it was hit him square in the chest.

Harry had experienced the Cruciatus curse before, but this was something else. This was much worse. He barely registered the fact that his screams were echoing off the stone walls of the corridor. He barely noticed Draco leaning over him, calling him. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was being stripped bare and lit on fire.

Once Harry had started screaming, chaos erupted in the hall. The Slytherins had their wands out, circling around them. Ron had started shooting off hexes in an attempt to get to Harry, leaving Blaize to fend them off before they could hit anyone. Draco had moved to Harry, cursing him for being such a martyr. Gwynn suddenly appeared beside him, Akkar appeared further down the hallway throwing up protective wards to keep out any further spells.

"We have to get him to Lothair!" she called, pointing at Harry and then motioning down the hall.

Harry's screams hadn't stopped and Draco could barely hear her over them. When she repeated it, he nodded and tried to pick him up. The moment Draco touched him, his screams increased. "I can't move him!"

"Akkar!" Gwynn called, drawing the other Elf back as she moved to disarm the wizards.

When he appeared at Draco's side, he reached past him and placed a hand on Harry's forehead and began chanting something Draco couldn't quite make out. After a moment, Harry stilled, the silence ringing out eerily after the echo of screams.

"It won't last long," Akkar urged, "We need to move him. Now."

Draco didn't ask questions, he simply scooped up the smaller man and headed down the corridor toward the entrance to the Chamber. He barely registered the shuffling of feet behind him. He was furious both with Harry for doing something so stupid and with himself for not being able to sense whatever it was that Harry had.

He'd barely made it past the door before Lothair had met them, taking the stairs three at a time. "What the hell is going on?"

"He was hit with some sort of magic."

"Get him into the kitchen," Lothair ordered, moving aside so Draco could pass him. Only moments later, Gwynn appeared, leading a group of six students behind her, Akkar following up behind them. "Report."

"We couldn't sense anything, Sir," Gwynn responded instantly. "Harry said there was a humming and then he was hit with a spell. This is everyone who was present in the hallway at the time."

Lothair's attention shifted to Akkar. "Circle back and look for any foreign traces of magic."

Akkar nodded and slipped back out the door, the heavy bolt securing the door locking into place behind him. Only then did Lothair's eyes return to the group in front of him. "Downstairs," he barked, ignoring the wide-eyed looks he was getting. He had more important things to worry about.

Reaching the main room again, he put out a call to draw back the rest of the guard before heading into the kitchen. Draco had Harry laid out on the table, the few items that had been on there now scattered across the floor. Not for the first time did he regret having made this ridiculous trip.

"Tell me exactly what happened," he demanded, moving to examine Harry.

"We were standing in the dungeon and he said he could hear something," Draco responded, watching as the older elf found Harry's pulse point, pausing there for a moment before moving to lift his eyelid. "He said he could hear something. I listened but there was nothing. Whatever it was only Harry could hear it. Then there was a sudden buildup and release of pressure. The idiot shoved me out of the way and it hit him in the chest. He started screaming immediately. Akkar had to knock him out in order for me to move him."

Lothair didn't say anything for several long moments as he trailed his hands over Harry's chest, focusing. After a moment, he cursed violently. "It's elven magic," he responded. "Nasty elven magic."

He could feel the guard arriving in the other room and he moved to the door. "Akkar, Saeya. Lindir!" Three elves appeared immediately and Lothair motioned them into the room. "It's a forbidden curse."

Draco wasn't sure what that meant but everyone else seemed to immediately grasp the situation. He wanted to ask what that meant but they were already moving to surround Harry.

"Remove the sleeping spell you placed on him," Lothair instructed, glancing at Akkar. The other Elf nodded and switched places with Saeya who had been at the head of the table. With a glance up to make sure the others were ready, he placed a hand back on Harry's forehead and removed the spell. The moment the magic faded away, the screams started again.

His screams were like nails digging into his skin and Draco had to force himself to remain where he was. He watched silently as the four elves held their hands out over Harry's spasming body. They began chanting quietly at first before their tones gradually rose over the sounds of Harry's screams. They continued this for what felt like hours before Harry's screams were cut off and his body stilled.

He was so silent and still that for a moment Draco thought the worst before a low moan escaped Harry and his head rolled to the side.

Lothair straightened, lifting an arm to brush off his forehead. Whatever they had done had taken a toll out of them. All four of them were sweating and breathing heavily. "What the hell was that?" Draco asked, pushing off the wall where he'd been standing.

"A very old curse," Lothair grunted, moving to place a stasis spell over Harry.

"Is he alright?"

"No," the older elf responded, bluntly. "We can't repair the damage caused by the curse."

Draco felt the world tilt slightly and he blinked. "What do you mean you can't repair the damage."

Lothair didn't respond, his attention shifting to Lindir. "Send word to Rosalind with Herofin. We're going to need her skills." Only once he'd received a nod of acknowledgement did his attention shift back to Draco. "You come with me."

Draco cast a glance back to Harry's prone form. Saeya had taken up a spot at the end of the table to keep watch, which didn't really put him at ease. Regardless, he turned and followed Lothair back out into the main room. In the middle of the room stood the rest of the group, Elves surrounding them. All of them were pale-faced and tears were streaming down Granger's face. When she spotted Draco, she took a step forward but halted when Gwynn lifted her sword and held her in place.

"Is Harry okay?" she asked, glancing from Draco to Lothair.

"He's calm for the moment," Lothair responded, eying her for a moment before letting his gaze sweep over the rest of them. "Where are their wands?" he asked. Gwynn moved and handed him the six wands in question. It took only a moment for him to scan them and verify that none of them had been used to place the curse on Harry. He wasn't surprised. A wizarding child would not have had the strength or the understanding to cast it.

"Erase their memories and let them go."

Draco blinked in surprise. "Wait! What?"

Lothair raised an eyebrow, his attention shifting to Draco. "They already know too much."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Those two," he pointed at Ron and Hermione, "Already know about Harry's heritage. I think erasing their memories is a bit much!"

"And the others?" he asked, pointedly. "What are we to do with them? Are you one hundred percent certain they can be trusted with not just your life, but the rest of our lives as well."

Draco hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to his friends. "We need allies," he commented instead. "They could be useful. They have a better idea of what's going on than we do."

"They're children," Lothair scoffed.

"All the more reason to keep them involved. Children hear everything."

Lothair studied him for a moment. The look on his face said he didn't like the idea and for a moment Draco was almost positive that he was going to have them all tossed out with no memories of anything. "Fine," he snapped, shooting the group a dirty look. "They're your responsibility then. I don't have to babysit."

He turned his head to glance at Gwynn. " Make them take an oath so they can't speak of this to anyone and send them on their way."

Gwynn nodded and Lothair turned and headed back into the kitchen. They watched him go before Draco and Gwynn glanced back to the group of students.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Pansy demanded, arms crossed and glaring accusingly at Draco.

Sighing, he glanced at Gwynn who just motioned him forward. As far as she was concerned, they were his friends and he could deal with their hysterics. "They're all yours."

to be continued ...