Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is a great author, and owns all the characters in this story. I have borrowed them because they were so magically crafted into my imagination as a youngin that I like to come back to them sometimes and play with them.

P.S. I did not die ... just got very very very busy ... for about two years. Hopefully I'm back now though 

Chapter Ten

The Black Letter

Harry picked up another dust covered volume, weighed it in his hand and then, deciding it was too heavy to be bothered with, dropped it back onto the mahogany desk.

'This is hopeless,' Harry said. 'Who would have thought anyone could have so many books?'

'You're joking aren't you?' asked Hermione. 'You're talking about one of the most powerful wizards to ever walk the earth, and you're surprised he had lots of books? How do you think he got so good, Harry?'

'I don't know. But I certainly never thought it had anything to do with books. I mean ... books! Soo many books!'

And it was true; Dumbledore's private library was much larger than even Hermione had anticipated, though she wasn't going to tell Harry that.

When the pair had been let into Dumbledore's office earlier that night neither one of them had known what to expect. Professor McGonagall had led them through Dumbledore's old office and into the first antechamber, where she stopped them and gave stern instructions never to repeat what they were about to learn to another soul. They had agreed, and McGonagall led them through a door to their left. The library was massive for a personal collection, with tall bookshelves lining the walls of a surprisingly large room.

'Oh this is hopeless,' Harry said, plonking his head down on the desk. 'We've been at this for hours, and haven't found anything useful.'

'You don't know that Harry. Just because it doesn't seem useful now doesn't mean we won't find a use for this information later. I'm sure we'll get to a point where everything falls into place.'

'That doesn't make me feel any better.'

'You have to be patient, Harry. This was never going to happen overnight.'

'But we've been at this for hours and we've found nothing.'

'I bet Ron's fuming back in Gryffindor tower,' Hermione said, a hint of a smirk running across her lips. 'We were never supposed to leave him this long babysitting Malfoy. I'm still not sure that was a good idea.'

'Maybe we'll be lucky and by the time we get back Ron will have blasted Malfoy away.' The jibe came naturally to Harry, but after he had said it he realised there was less malice in his voice than usual. He pondered this for a moment before he realised that Hermione was looking at him oddly, almost pensively. 'What?' he asked her.

'Nothing,' she replied, but she didn't look away immediately. Instead she let her gaze hang on Harry for a few moments, pulling the face that Harry and Ron had often referred to as her trying-to-solve-a-puzzle face.

'Stop doing that,' harry said defensively.

'Doing what?'

'Trying to ... oh I don't know ... you just keep looking at me weirdly.'

'No,' said Hermione. 'Just thinking.'

'Thinking about what?' Harry asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

'Nothing really.' Hermione turned back to the bookshelf she had been studying all night and pulled another massive volume from the shelves. 'So, how do you think things are working out with Malfoy?'

'Do we really need to talk about Draco right now?' Harry asked. Hermione looked up from her book and gave him her trying-to-solve-a-puzzle look again. 'Oh, what now?'

'Nothing!' Hermione said. Harry gave her a sceptical look and so she went on. 'It's just ... you rarely ever call him Draco ... and I've noticed recently that there's less tension between the two of you ... or at least it's changed somehow ...' She let her observation hang in the air.

'I don't see your point.'

'Never mind, Harry.' The young witch flipped the hard cover of Dumbledore's book open onto the desk and began to read. Afraid that the conversation could turn more awkward than it already was, Harry let her immerse herself in her research and he too turned back to flicking through the yellowing pages of Dumbledore's ancient text.

The time marched slowly on, and as the candles the duo had been reading by slowly flickered out one by one, Harry decided it was time to call it a night. Hermione reluctantly agreed and the pair walked slowly back to the Gryffindor tower in silence. When they reached the common room they found Ron and Draco sitting by the fire, Ron polishing his Wizards' chess pieces and Draco snoozing in one of the big-backed chairs.

'What do you mean you didn't find anything?' Ron asked when Hermione had told him what they had done that night. 'You mean I spent all night looking after this tosser for you to come back empty handed?' Ron nodded in Draco's direction as he spoke and Harry's eyes, which had moved in the direction of Ron's gesture, were now fighting to stop Harry from tearing them away from the image of Draco resting peacefully just an arm's length away. Harry had never seen the boy look so calm or serene. Eventually Harry got control of his eyes and looked back to Ron, but not before he noticed Hermione giving him another one of her looks.

'Well what do you want from us, Ron?' Harry asked. 'We tried! Dumbledore had collected hundreds of books and it'll take an age to get through all of them. But at least we've made a start.'

'I can promise you one thing, mate,' Ron said, 'I'm not wasting my time babysitting this one again. You've got to start the DA up again and let a few of them in on the secret.' Harry went to argue with him but found he didn't have the energy. Spending the night looking through Dumbledore's belongings had been draining both mentally and emotionally.

'Fine,' Harry said, conceding that if Ron's persistent bugging didn't eventually convince him to restart the DA then Hermione's campaign of reasoned arguments and good sense probably would.

'What? Are you serious?' Ron asked with a big grin across his face.

'That's excellent Harry,' Hermione piped in.

'But I don't know how yet!' Harry cautioned. 'And I can't guarantee that anyone will want to rejoin anyway!'

'Well, at the very least it's a start,' Hermione said happily. 'And besides, you can leave all the details up to me.'

'I was planning on doing that anyway.'

'I know,' Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Ron and Harry both laughed. 'Well I'm going to bed anyway; it's very late to be up on a school night, especially in our first week back.' Now it was Ron and Harry's turn to roll their eyes. It seemed Hermione was never going to lose her love of following the rules. 'Ron, you should go to bed too.'

'What? Why doesn't Harry have to go to bed?'

'Because I'm not the boss of Harry.'

'You're not the boss of me either!'

'Oh honey,' Hermione said, 'you know that's not true.' And with that Hermione kissed Ron gently on the cheek, turned and walked up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

Ron waited a moment, looking a little sheepish over what had just happened in front of Harry, and then said, 'I'd better go, mate.' He started moving towards the staircase too.

'What? Wait!' Harry hissed after him. 'What about Draco?'

'What about the dirt bag?'

'Well we can't just leave him here; we've got to get him up to the dorm.'

'Hey, I've been babysitting him all night. You wake him up and put him to bed if you care that much.'

'A great help you are,' Harry mumbled to Ron's back as he walked away. Harry moved over to where Draco was sleeping.

When he was sleeping like this Draco's features were soft and the heat of the fire gave the normally pale boy a rosy glow to his cheeks. Draco's head was tilted slightly to the side and his chest rose and fell gently as he breathed in and then exhaled, his soft breath dancing its way across the space between he and Harry, tickling Harry's hand. Harry was shocked to see the fragment of a smile flicker across the boy's features, but then it was gone again.

Harry reached out a hand but wasn't really sure how to wake the sleeping boy. There had been a time when the only way imaginable would have been both loud and quite possibly painful, but for some reason neither of those options occurred to Harry tonight. He thought to shake the boy awake, but decided not to: he didn't want Malfoy waking with a start and cursing whatever he first saw. Instead, Harry leant down until he was level with Draco, brushed a piece of blonde hair out of the boy's eyes and whispered, 'Draco.'

'Potter?' he replied, without opening his eyes. Harry could not hear any trace of malice in the way Draco said the word.

'Draco,' Harry whispered again.

This time Draco slowly opened his eyes and blinked hard a few times, obviously trying to regain control of his senses. 'I fell asleep,' the boy said, half to himself and half to Harry.

'Yeah, you did.'

'I guess it was the warmth of the fire. I'm not used to such comfort, and such a warm atmosphere.'

'Do you always analyse everything, Malfoy?' Harry asked.

Draco looked at him for a moment, and then said, 'I should go to bed.' He went to stand but instead yawned loudly. Harry giggled and Draco's cheeks went a darker shade of pink.

'Come on,' Harry said, offering Draco a hand out of the chair. He almost withdrew it as Draco didn't take it straight away, first looking from Harry's hand and then to Harry himself, and then back to his hand. Eventually though Draco clasped Harry's outstretched hand in his and Harry pulled him out of the big-backed chair. 'Come on,' Harry repeated. 'It's late and we should both be going to bed.'

The two boys made their way up the winding staircase and into the boy's dormitory. Each moved silently to their own beds and began to change into their night wear. For some reason that Harry couldn't fathom he found that his brain had to battle against his eyes once more, this time to stop them straying over to where Draco was undressing.

Purposefully, decisively, Harry changed, drew the curtains around his bed and climbed into bed, all without once looking over in Draco's direction.

Harry sighed heavily when he was in the privacy of his own bed, thinking about the state of things as they were. He couldn't avoid the sinking feeling that came with knowing he had wasted one more day in the fight against Voldemort: his and Hermione's search through Dumbledore's office had yielded no results and he was questioning whether it had been a good idea to come back to Hogwarts at all. He was sure that the answers he was looking for could be found at Godric's Hollow. Furthermore, Harry was utterly confused about eh new feelings he was developing for Draco; he no longer hated him or wanted to hurt him every chance he got, and he wasn't sure why. Sure Draco was making an attempt to be a good guy, but didn't all the history they shared mean anything? You couldn't just turn around one day after years of torment and wrongdoing and decide to be a good guy and expect everything to be ok ...

- - - - - - -

Draco awoke early the next morning. He lay in bed enjoying the comfort of his warm sheets, letting a refreshing breeze sweep in through the crack in his bed hangings. He could never have felt this comfortable in the Slytherin dungeons. Everything down there was cold and damp.

When the sun began to rise and light penetrated the bed hangings Draco got up out of bed, grabbed his dressing gown and walked up to the Gryffindor showers. It was still early in the morning and Draco was glad for the privacy. Being around people all day was not what he was used to, and since he had turned himself in at Gringotts he didn't think he had been completely alone even once, with someone following or guarding him at all times.

Draco had his shower and dried off, but realised he had forgotten to bring his school robes up with him. He wrapped the towel around him and carried his dressing gown and pyjama pants in his hand so that he wouldn't get them wet with the moisture still on his body. He had walked about half way down the spiral staircase when he ran into Harry. Literally.

'Shit!' Draco exclaimed as he fell backwards, landing hard on his bum on a step of the staircase.

'Oh, sorry,' Harry said when he had regained his balance. 'I didn't see you coming.'

'Obviously,' Draco said, trying to stand up again without losing his grip on his towel, which was dangerously close to falling off.

Harry laughed. 'You know there's a reason why we normally get dressed upstairs.

'Shut up, Potter,' Draco said, embarrassed to be standing – or sitting – in front of Harry in such a compromising state.

'You might want to cross your legs too,' Harry said. Draco turned a furious shade of red and Harry couldn't help but laugh again. 'Here,' he said, offering his hand to Draco. 'You're making a habit of needing my help to get up.' A hundred different double entendre raced through Draco's mind, and he blushed again.

'What were you running up the steps this early for anyway?' Draco asked when he was back on his feet.

'I thought you'd done a runner. I was going to check the showers first before I raised the alarm though. Lucky I did.'

'You're not my keeper, Potter. I'm allowed to shower aren't I?'

'In case you forgot,' Harry said, shoving Draco hard in the chest, 'you are only here because the Order agreed to keep you under surveillance. You don't get to be indignant.'

'I could have escaped a hundred times if that's what I wanted, Potter,' Draco spat. 'So why don't you just shove off. I'm sticking around because I want to, and nothing you said or did could keep me here if I didn't.'

Harry and Draco were face to face now, staring daggers at each other in the confined space of the spiral staircase. Draco had been caught so off guard by the sudden change in tone that he had simply fallen back on his old habit of responding to criticism with arrogance, but now he fell silent, not knowing what to say next. The silence grew thicker and Draco found himself resisting the urge to reach out and grab Harry, who always looked so handsome when he was riled up. Thoughts of passionately kissing Harry right there on the steps ran through his head and Draco realised that he would need to escape the situation soon.

Without warning Harry's angry demeanour broke and was replaced by obvious amusement. 'Is that a wand in your towel or are you – ' Draco pushed past Harry before he could even finish his sentence and ran back down to the boy's dormitory, where he quickly got changed before any of the other boys woke up. The day that had started so beautifully in bed had already gone horribly wrong, and Draco sensed that the rest of the day would be no better.

When next Draco saw Harry it was down in the common room. Bearing in mind what harry had said on the steps, Draco had decided to wait for the golden trio before going down to breakfast. As the common room filled around him Draco tried to ignore the feelings of deep embarrassment bubbling under the surface. Hermione was the first to come down the staircase and into the common room.

'Good morning Draco,' Hermione said.

'Morning,' Draco mumbled.

'Morning. Sleep well?' Seamus asked Hermione as he walked over.

'Yeah I did thanks. How about you?'

'Better. What do you think breakfast will be this morning?'

'Oh I hope it's eggs and bacon.'

'There's always eggs and bacon.'

'Oh lord,' Draco cut across. 'This is possibly the most banal conversations I've ever been subjected to.'

'Well no one's asking you to listen, Malfoy,' Seamus said.

There was a short pause filled by an awkward silence. 'We do usually have more interesting conversations,' Hermione said coyly. The awkward silence returned.

Harry and Ron arrived shortly after, which was good because they were a distraction to break the silence, but bad because Draco was sure Harry would mention something about what had happened that morning. But even on the way down to the dining hall Harry didn't say anything about Draco's towel mishap. Instead, he just kept looking at Draco with a mixture of amusement and something else Draco couldn't quite put his finger on.

The group of five sat to eat breakfast (there were eggs and bacon, along with an assortment of other breakfast foods) and Draco sat through another bout of hackneyed chatter. All the way through breakfast Draco kept sneaking peeks at Harry, who he had discovered a secret affection for since he had accepted Draco's attempt to be a better person. Draco noticed Harry looking in his direction on more than one occasion through breakfast also.

Breakfast was coming to a close when Draco began to wonder why Harry kept stealing looks in his direction; was he looking because he really was worried that Draco would try to do a runner? The arrival of the post owls soon distracted Draco from his thoughts though.

The morning post was a daily ritual at Hogwarts, and few students ever paid much attention to the assortment of owls that flew in through the dining hall window and dropped off letters and parcels from home. Today was different though. Mixed in between the birds of grey and white and brown were three spots of black that swept menacingly over the house tables. Even when the usual owls had departed the crows continued to sweep round and round the hall until the students and teachers had all grown silent. The three crows swooped down amongst the tables and each delivered an identical black envelope to three different students.

One of these students was Seamus. He stared at the black envelope that lay in front of him, on the table where just minutes ago his plate had sat. An ominous silence lay thick and heavy in the Great Hall, yet still Seamus did not reach for his envelope, seemingly in a daze, presumably searching his mind for the hope that what lay inside might somehow be good news.

A shrill sob broke across the silence and woke Seamus from his daze. One of the other students – a girl in hufflepuff house – had opened her letter. Her sobs continued as Seamus reached a trembling hand in front of him to collect his black envelope. He opened it, read the first few lines and shakily rose to his feet.

He had only just achieved full height when all of the colour ran out of his face and he collapsed in a heap on the floor of the Great Hall. He had fainted, still holding the letter. The sound his body made as it hit the floor broke the hall out of its reverie and Harry quickly turned on the bench to reach down and check to make sure Seamus was ok. A crowd quickly gathered around Seamus' limp form and Harry saw a hand reach down and take the letter as Harry himself knelt down to turn Seamus on his side. When he was sure Seamus had just fainted he turned to see who had taken the letter.

The look on Hermione's face was one of pure horror.

'Seamus' parents,' she whispered. 'They've been murdered.'