When Harry and Draco had finally made it outside, there were no sign of any students. The snow castle was all but decimated and the brownies looked worn out.

Draco waved his wand. "Finite Incantatem." The castle and its pixie inhabitants disappeared.

Harry scanned the courtyard and beyond. "I don't see any blood or body parts. Do you think they're inside somewhere?"

"Don't know. We could look for them."

"I have a better idea. Come up to my room."

Draco followed Harry. "Um…we've already spent too much time in my room, remember?"

"Not for that! Something else. I've got a map that can find them."

"A map? What do you mean? What sort of Dark Magic are you harboring now, Potter? First an invisibility cloak, brewing up Polyjuice potion, and now some map. No wonder you won at everything. You cheat better than a Slytherin."

He chuckled half-heartedly as they entered under the entrance arch. "Perhaps you're right. I always had more than my fair share of help."

"And by the way, there is nothing average about your looks. I happen to think you are an extremely handsome man. I certainly wouldn't be caught dead with someone average."

He smiled at Draco. "Thanks…I guess."

He hurried up to his classroom, trotted up the pulpit stair, and crossed the threshold of his study. On a shelf behind a skull of some strange beast, Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map. Draco sidled up next to him and watched as Harry tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Instantly, images appeared on the parchment and formed into the familiar plan of Hogwarts.

"Bloody hell!" Draco gaped. Scrawled names followed the few inhabitants of Hogwarts, little dots of ink marking where they were. "I am beginning to wonder if anything I thought I knew about our school years was true. The Chamber of Secrets happened, right? And you lost us our house elf? Anything sounding familiar, Potter?"

"Yes, yes. All that happened."

"And the Tri-Wizard Tournament. And getting that hippogriff executed. And Umbridge…"

"Um…the hippogriff. Didn't get executed."

"That's right. It escaped."

"Er…not quite."

"No. No. You are not going to tell me you had anything to do with that ugly beast getting away. That foul creature that tried to kill me? Tell me that's not what you are going to say."

"Well…it was your fault Buckbeak attacked you. And I couldn't just let the poor thing be executed. Besides, once we released it Buckbeak carried Sirius Black to freedom."

Draco glared, his jaw resting on his chest.

Harry flattened the map and tried not to look Draco in the eye.

"It's a damn good thing I didn't know about this earlier," Malfoy said darkly. "I would have bloody well split you in two."

Harry wriggled and winced. "Tell you what, mate, I think you did."

"Good! This is just the sort of thing that really pisses me off."

"What are you, twelve? Get over it and help me find our students."

Draco drew silent and then cautiously ran his finger over the map and found Slytherin. "There's most of them."

"And the rest are in Ravenclaw's common room. That shows cooperation."

"Don't pat yourself on the back just yet. Where's Treeloft?"

The sullen Slytherin wasn't among the other Slytherins or in the Ravenclaw group. Before Treeloft came out to Harry he had been in danger of becoming another Voldemort. His loneliness and isolation about his sexuality had made him a danger, but his new relationship with Rupert Fenwick seemed to change all that, though with Fenwick away for the holidays Treeloft had fallen into old habits.

"I don't see him anywhere," said Harry, getting more nervous as they searched. "Do you?"

"Hang on. He's in the Owlrey." Draco pressed his finger to the spot on the parchment. "Wait. Now where is he?"

Harry dropped the map. He didn't know why he knew. But he ran for all his strength. He wished he could apparate there but there wasn't even any time to wish that. His legs pumped and he raced to the bottom of the tower and hoped he was wrong. But as he came up the rise he saw a dark form on the snowdrift. He was at his side in an instant. "Malcolm! Malcolm!"

A trickle of blood oozed from the boy's mouth, but his lids fluttered, however faint.

"Don't move, Malcolm. I'll get you to the hospital wing." He raised his wand. "Mobilcorpus!" Treeloft's supine body floated into the air but instead of allowing it to dangle like a puppet on a string, Harry made sure it stayed flat and directed it forward with his wand. Draco skidded to a halt beside Harry.

"Oh Merlin!"

"Run ahead, Draco. Tell Madam Pomfrey. Go!"

Draco was gone and Harry moved Treeloft as fast as he could without jostling him. It felt as if it took forever, levitating Treeloft slowly up the stairs (why did the hospital wing have to be upstairs!) but finally they made it and Madam Pomfrey moved quickly forward and took over, levitating him over a bed and depositing him there.

Harry stood over the boy and Draco moved next to him. "What do you suppose happened?" whispered Draco.

Harry shook his head. But he saw a parchment clutched in Treeloft's hand. He moved quickly to free it, unfurled it, and read:

Malcolm,

My dad heard about the Yule Ball and then he read that damned article in The Quibbler and he said I can't come back to Hogwarts. It's not my choice. You know I want to come back to you. Please write me.

All my love,

Rupert

"Oh no," Harry whispered. He showed it to Draco who silently read. His eyes widened and a stricken look came over his face.

"Harry," he whispered as quietly as he could. "You don't suppose…he jumped, do you?"

Pomfrey glanced over her shoulder at the two teachers. "He will be quite all right, Harry, Draco, thanks to your quick thinking. The deep snow helped to break his fall. Be so good as to alert the Headmaster for me."

Draco gave the parchment back to Harry. "I'll stay. You go."

Harry nodded and made the long walk back to Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore allowed him in and Harry explained as best he could what happened.

"Is it your opinion that Treeloft jumped from the Owlry?" asked the old wizard.

Harry stared vacantly at the floor and shook his head. "I don't know, Headmaster. I really don't know. Malcolm has always been a little sullen and angry but now that I know his 'problem' I assumed it was to mask his fear at his sexuality… It's not good to hide those things," he added pointedly.

Dumbledore was not rising to the bait. "I shall, of course, write to his parents, but I do not think I will mention this possibility. Not yet. Not until we talk to the boy."

"He won't say, not if he really did jump. I would certainly have someone watch him at night."

"I give that responsibility to you and Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, sir. I'd be happy to do that."

Dumbledore looked suddenly his age. He folded into his chair and sighed. "Dear me. Nothing like this has ever happened here before. And I used to worry only about a Dark Wizard."

"Me, too."

He looked up at Harry, seeming to just remember to whom he spoke. He offered a weak smile. "Of course, being a teacher here is much like being a parent. We watch them grow, worry over them, discipline them, love them, and wonder what will ever become of them."

"Most of us turned out all right."

"Yes. You did, certainly, in spite of all the things that happened to you. And Draco, eventually."

"It was Hogwarts, sir. Hogwarts saved me. It can save Malcolm, too. Draco and I will be there to make sure. I'm very sorry, sir, for everything. We didn't mean any harm. When Malcolm told me, when he opened up to me, I thought our dance might help him."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes. "I'm sure it did, Harry. But a small ripple can create a very large wave after a while. We must contend with this and see where it leads now."

"Yes, sir. May I go?"

"Yes. See if he will talk to you."

Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling worse than when he arrived. He made it back to the hospital wing in time to catch Draco looking in a foul temper and moving away from Treeloft's bed.

"I take it he wouldn't talk to you," said Harry.

"Git," he growled. "I'm his head of house for Merlin's sake. I'm a bloody Slytherin!"

"But Slytherins don't talk about their problems, isn't that right? You had rather talked to a dead girl than to come to someone with your problems in sixth year."

"Do not underestimate the sympathy of Moaning Myrtle," said Draco softly. "She was quite literally the only person I could talk to." He glared at Harry. "I wish I could have talked to you. You, at least, would have understood."

"Like those unresolved issues we still have?"

Draco blushed. "Okay. I get the point. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

"As many times as I say you do." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at Treeloft. "Maybe he'll talk to me. He did come out to me."

Draco gestured dramatically toward the hospital bed, angry again. "Be my guest."

"Dumbledore wants us to watch him tonight. Maybe we could do it in shifts."

"Think he's going to try something again?"

"He might. It's a pretty hopeless feeling when you love someone and can't have them."

Before he turned, Draco grabbed his arm. "Harry, did you ever…well…were you ever tempted to…to…"

He looked Draco square in the eye. "There was little need to. Someone was already trying to kill me…remember?"

"Oh right. But…you know what I mean."

"I don't think I would have. There were too many people depending on me."

"Forget all that for a moment. What about you?"

"Well, when Voldemort was no more, I didn't just fold up you know. I had a life. Boyfriends."

Draco was taken aback. "You did? Wait. Boyfriends? As in plural?"

"Yes. You didn't think I was a virgin when I took you to my bed, did you?"

"I guess I never really thought about it." He glanced in Treeloft's direction and scowled, seeming to blame Treeloft for this latest indignity. "I guess we don't have time to talk about this right now."

Now he wants to talk about it. "No, we don't. Later, perhaps." Merlin, what was he going to say? Why would Draco suddenly want to know about Harry's love life? I guess after five months together it suddenly occurred to him I had a life before him. Good timing as usual, Malfoy.

He approached Treeloft's bed, leaving thoughts of Draco behind. Treeloft faced away, staring at the far wall. Harry pulled a chair up and sat. "Hey, Malcolm."

No response.

"Look, I found the note. Rupert expects you to write to him."

"Well I'm not going to." He barely moved his lips and didn't stop staring vacantly at the far wall, though the arms clasped over his chest tightened.

"What happened with his parents was…unreasonable. But maybe it can be fixed. Let Dumbledore talk to them."

"Why? According to The Quibbler, were only just a 'couple of gits in for it worse than you are.'"

Shit. "Malcolm, Professor Malfoy didn't mean it like that-"

"Course he did. We are a couple of gits. Thought just because the Great Harry Potter could get away with something we could, too. Well. We can't."

"Is that why you jumped?"

"Is that what you think I did?"

"Did you?" he asked quietly.

Treeloft slowly turned his head. His eyes were rimmed with red. "I don't honestly know." He choked up for a moment and then continued. "I was in the Owlry, thinking to send him a note when his owl arrived. I read it over several times and I was crying. I couldn't see so well. I was standing at the edge of the tower and I was feeling...feeling…empty."

"Malcolm, there may be hope. Don't give up. And don't give in to the hurt inside. I never did, though I thought I might."

He looked at Harry now, his eyes scanning over him. "You mean when you and Professor Malfoy were students?"

"Yes. But he didn't know his orientation then. I really suffered."

"Did you find another guy…when you were here…?"

"No. I didn't want anyone else…but…that isn't quite the best example. I also had my mind preoccupied, you will recall."

"Voldemort."

"Yes."

"I wish I had something like that."

"No you don't. Trust me. I also had other friends. And you do, too. You know that Felicia Rosencrantz and Serenity Hudson aren't afraid of you anymore. They wouldn't mind being your friends."

"I think I liked it better when they were afraid of me."

Harry patted his hand. "No you didn't. I think they'd be really good for you. When they come back after holiday, ask to sit with them at lunch."

"But I'm Slytherin. They're not."

"So what? No one says you have to have friends only in your house or sit at your house table all the time."

"Isn't that a rule?"

"No. Well…I don't think so. I'll check. But anyway, it's a start."

The fifteen-year-old sighed. "It's hard."

"I know. But I'm also here and so is Professor Malfoy. He is your head of house. You should talk to him. He knows a little what it's like to be lonely, too."

Treeloft shrugged and turned away, but he didn't look so sullen. Harry felt better and stood up. "You'll get us for company tonight anyway. So if you want to talk, we'll be here."

* * *

The night passed with no incident. Treeloft merely slept. Harry and Draco took turns sleeping and sitting up. Harry took the first watch but when Draco shook his shoulder to wake him up and take the book out of his hand, he looked up sheepishly at the blond Slytherin. "Some watchdog I am. Is he okay?"

"Yes. He's sleeping. You should, too. Take that bed. I think it's an old favorite of yours."

Harry smiled at the joke. He stood up, stretched, and kissed Draco. "I love you," he said softly. "It's nice to be able to say that."

Draco's eyes studied him. "Me, too."

Harry settled down on the bed and watched Draco take his place on the chair in the nimbus of lamp light. He took up Harry's book, frowned at it, and conjured his own book. He opened the cover and settled down to read. Harry smiled, watching his familiar profile: pointed nose, soft, blond fringe hanging over his eyes, pouty lower lip. That was quite a scare he'd had that morning (was that only this morning?), thinking that Draco wanted to break up with him. He knew just how Malcolm felt. That would have been just awful. Having spent all these years trying to forget Malfoy, then to finally having him, and then to lose him! Unthinkable. Slytherins certainly had bad tempers. He eased down and suddenly felt how sore his backside was. Yes, they certainly do have bad tempers.He'd forgotten to get a potion from Draco. Oh well. He'd remember tomorrow. He turned over, but something in his pocket bothered him. He reached in and felt cold metal. It was Draco's Christmas present. He pulled it out and opened it. He ran his finger lovingly along the inscription, especially where it said "my love, Draco". He glanced at the perfect image of his boyfriend smirking up from the dial, something he did best…and then his heart seized.

Where before the portrait had pointed to safety and "Hogwarts", it was now pointed toward "Mortal Peril".


On to Chapter Six
"Poison Pen"

Back to Chapter Four
"Dueling Club"

Chapter Index

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