And, I'm back. I will hopefully be back in a posting regularly kind of a way, but you know, three jobs and a degree and everything. Also, I apologise if this is a little rusty. I haven't really written much of anything in about three months and it's an odd thing to force yourself to start up again. But at least I've started now!

Also, if you haven't already read Chaos, you should probably read that first or this won't make any sense at all.

In a dark forest, in a small clearing, in a magical tent, on a small sofa, there lay a teenage boy called-

"Potter! I'm bored!"

Harry and Sirius exchanged a look that spoke volumes. They each thrust their right hands out and Sirius counted down from three: "Uno, dos, tres!"

"Yes! Paper always wins!" he crowed.

Harry looked down at his fist, still shaped like a rock, in annoyance, as though it was his hand's fault that he'd lost. Again.

"But Pads," he whined, "I did it last time!"

"He's your boyfriend," the so-called responsible adult said with a grin. "It's not my fault you pick the crazy ones."

Harry began to open his mouth, intent on insisting that Draco hadn't been crazy when they'd first got together but he quickly closed it again with a snap of his teeth. Draco had still been crazy, it was just that he was crazier now. The former craziness somewhat paled in comparison.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled a cigarette from the carton on the coffee table and lit it with the end of his wand. The nicotine would probably help a lot with what he had to do. It was with trepidation in his steps that he walked to the smaller of the two bedrooms and swung open the door. And the wariness was well deserved considering the scene that he was confronted with.

Draco Malfoy sat cross-legged in the middle of a four poster bed, wearing what looked like his entire wardrobe. He had at least four pairs of trousers on, two skirts, two vests and three dress shirts and an awful lot of robes slung over his shoulders. His first year Hogwarts' hat sat perched on top of his head, tufts of white-blonde hair poking out from under it.

Harry took a deep drag of his cigarette and tried not to giggle at the pout on his boyfriend's lips. He had found out two days before that laughing at new crazy-Draco did not go down well. Something to do with the leftovers of the spell his recently deceased father had cast on him. Apparently proper pureblood sons did not like being made fun of.

"Ah, what's wrong, love?" Harry asked.

Draco shot him a glare and ripped the hat off of his head, throwing it across the room where it bounced almost noiselessly off of the wall.

"I can hear you laughing at me, Potter, and stop calling me love. And what's wrong? What's bloody wrong? I'm bored, that's what's wrong! I know you heard me, I can hear that you did."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Harry yelped, "You can't hear me! I didn't laugh! Stop doing that! It's fucking creepy, and you know it!"

"Well you didn't have to kidnap me, and force me to stay with you in this boring bloody tent! If you hadn't done that, I would have been back with my godfather, who I actually like, unlike some people I could mention, and you wouldn't have to put up with me creeping you out!" Draco snapped. Harry was about to snap back but a streak of red light shot past him and hit the other boy who promptly slumped forwards on the bed, resembling nothing more than a pile of clothes with a tuft of blonde hair.

"What the fuck was that for, Pads? I was handling it!"

"That kid is crazy, mate, we're taking him back. Getting a fucking refund."

Harry glared back at Sirius, lounging in the doorway of the bedroom as if he hadn't just stunned his godson's boyfriend, but he couldn't say much against his words. When they'd snuck into Hogwarts a few days before, they'd both assumed that what they'd been told about Draco's mental condition was a load of shit. He couldn't be that bad, after all. Except, it turns out that he could. Most of the time, he vacillated between Luna Lovegood and Lucius Malfoy, with very occasional moments of the whiny little ponce that Harry had grown to love.

"Fiine," Harry sighed, stomping out of the room to pack up his stuff. After kidnapping Draco, they'd grabbed a tent and a few bottles of tequila and had been hiding out in a forest in the middle of god-knows-where. It looked, however, like it was time to go back to Dumbledore. "And then I need a fucking drink."

"Oh my god, me too, pup, me too," Sirius agreed, a little more cheerful than before at the prospect of a good night out. He glanced back at the pile of clothes on the bed and frowned, wanting to kill Lucius Malfoy all over again.

Cedric Diggory was freaking out. He was freaking out big time. You're the responsible one, they'd said. We're just reckless, they'd said. You've got to keep us in line, they'd said. What they'd forgotten to say was that keeping Harry Potter and Sirius Black in line was just about the hardest thing anybody had been tasked to do in the history of just about ever. They'd kidnapped a kid, for crying out loud! I mean, okay, so it's a kid that they knew, and it was (sort of, maybe) Harry's boyfriend but that was emphatically not the point. The point was the people he was supposed to be keeping in line, keeping on track, had so far spent their summer kidnapping a boy instead of hunting for horcruxes like they were supposed to.

"So you truly have no idea where they would have gone?"

Cedric gulped. Even after being drawn into the horcrux hunt, he was still not used to being in the immediate vicinity of Albus Dumbledore. Sure, the old wizard might seem like someone's grandfather, but that someone's grandfather was one with the ability to smite anyone they wished. It would be like, if Jesus had a kid. Then that kid's grandfather would be Albus Dumbledore.

Realising that his thoughts had gone down a completely unrelated path, Cedric gulped again.

"Ah, no, sir. I've checked Grimmauld Place, all of the bars and pubs within a ten mile radius, that tattoo place that Sirius likes, the Shrieking Shack, the Forbidden forest, Sirius's girlfriend's house in muggle London, Hermione's, the Weasley's, Neville's… Everywhere I could think of. They've just disappeared," Cedric wailed, and if a single tear leaked from his eye as he did, we'll have to forgive him. When he said that he'd checked all of those places, he really had. All in the last two days. With no sleep and not even a single proper meal.

"Are you crying?"

Dumbledore's head shot up with a snap, and Cedric turned around to see none other than Harry bloody Potter and Sirius fucking Black standing calmly in the doorway. Over his left shoulder, Harry had a body slung which seemed to be Draco Malfoy. Though Cedric couldn't tell for certain as he wasn't thoroughly acquainted with the boy in question's buttocks, and that was all that was really visible of his anatomy.

"My dear boy-" Dumbledore tried to begin a lecture, but Cedric cut him off rather speedily.

"Am I crying? Am I crying? Are you kidding me? You're lucky I haven't bloody pulled my hair out and had a nervous breakdown by now! You kidnapped him! We said he had to stay here- for his own safety, I might add- and you went and bleeding kidnapped him. And now he's dead. Brilliant, you've killed him. I mean, why else wouldn't he be conscious and walking right next to you, because you've killed him, that's why. Oh my god, this is a nightmare. I think I actually might cry."

Sometime during his rant, Cedric had stood up, gesticulating wildly, but now he sank back down into the chair opposite Dumbledore (who hadn't moved in this time) and dropped his head into his hands. The office was silent, the rest of its occupants stunned into silence.

"I'm not dead," said the muffled voice of Draco Malfoy after a few moments.

"Holy fu-!" Harry yelped, startling and dropping the not-so-unconscious boy off of his shoulder and onto the floor, which he hit with a dull thud.

"I might be dead now," said the even more muffled and more than slightly pained voice of Draco Malfoy.

"I stunned you! You're not meant to be all… talky and shit!" Sirius squealed, in a very, very manly fashion. Not at all like a two year old who'd just had their toe stepped on.

"This is, to put it lightly, getting rather silly. Why don't we all take a seat and you can explain what exactly has been happening over the last few days," Dumbledore's tone was commanding, but Cedric was disappointed to see that the headmaster seemed to be rather amused by the entire proceedings.

When they were all sat down in conjured chairs, Draco complaining the entire time, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Now, I'm assuming that you, Mr Malfoy, did not go willingly with these two?"

"Of course not! As if I'd go anywhere with Potter and his pet idiot. Do you know how loudly they laugh? And it's all the time, and sometimes it isn't even out loud and it's so loud," Draco said, crossing his arms against his chest defensively.

"I… see," Dumbledore peered at the Slytherin over the top of his glasses, but didn't comment on the strangeness of his words. Instead, he turned to Harry and Sirius, skipping straight over Cedric, a fact that the Hufflepuff was all too glad for. He was still feeling rather overwhelmed and wanted nothing more than to go back to his dad's house and finish reading that textbook on the healing properties of plants that he'd started before this whole mess had begun.

"So you took him against his will then. May I ask what exactly you thought you'd achieve out of this expedition?"

"Ah, we kind of thought that it'd be… you know… fun. That he could use a little fun, that is," Harry muttered glumly, playing with one of the holes in the hem of his Sex Pistols t-shirt. Sirius next to him stayed silent, although his was mostly because he was still staring at Draco and trying to figure out the laughing comment.

"And you did not consider the fact that Draco's mind was torn apart when the spell his father placed on him was severed? You did not consider the fact that perhaps your idea of fun was the last thing that he needed?"

"They got me drunk and I could see the stars moving," Draco piped up, somewhat happily.

"Yeah, from inside the bloody tent," Sirius shuddered slightly.

"We know. We do. We fucked up. That's why we brought him back, so that he could, you know, get better and all. Well, that and Pads was getting really creeped out," Harry said sheepishly, fumbling a cigarette out of his jeans pocket and lighting it with the tip of Sirius's offered wand. He ignored his godfather's frantic gesturing to give him one, however. What? It was his last pack.

"You fucked up? Seriously?" Blaise Zabini's voice came from the doorway. "You stole him! You can't just go around stealing people!"

"Do you never close your door?" Cedric asked Dumbledore, forgetting his fear of the headmaster in a moment of pure exasperation.

"Hmm, I thought I'd try leaving it open, to see if I had been missing any opportunities by closing off the outside world. I think I may call the experiment a failure, however, and return to my previous habits," the old man answered, popping a lemon sherbet into his mouth and watching the slowing devolving shouting match between Harry and Blaise with interest.

"Might be an idea," Cedric commented as Blaise shot out a fist and punched Harry square in the jaw. "Never know Zabini to be this hotheaded."

"Ah, but when one is worried about a friend, one's previous personality tends to become a little skewed."

"I'm going to the bathroom," Draco announced loudly, stepping over Harry's groaning body as he left the room. "Goodbye, all."