*Prepares for shitstorm*

Hi everyone! I have butterflies, that's how excited I am (and also scared please don't hurt me)

So uh

How

how has everyone been after 2.5 years? I'm really, really, sorry, everyone. I let you down. I won't let it happen again. I'm going to get to work on the next chapter as soon as this one is published.

I've changed a lot since I last updated. I'm 15, now, and that's feeling really great. Sorry, though, this isn't a life story haha.

Warnings for this chapter: Not really much at all. Some crude language and all that stuff :3

Now for BP! Wow, this feels weird to be doing again :)

Draco - 4 1/2 BP! It's been a bit of a toss up with him because some people have decided to take away BP for the poor baby :(

Harry - 4 1/2 BP! People only took away BP from him. Sorry booboo

Hermione - 2 1/4

Ron - 1 1/4

Mr. Monarch/Dust Bunny - 1 BP

Snape - 3/4 BP

Madam Pomfrey (bless her soul) - 1 1/4 BP

Blaise - 1 1/2 BP

Pansy - 1 BP

Dumbledore - 1/2 BP

Narcissa - 1/2

Lucius - 1/2

Me - 3 5/8! I'm catching up, Harry! :)

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! I put a lot of work into it. Hopefully the next update will be a bit quicker. Thank you again for reading Hairy Pawter! (ᅌᴗᅌ* )

~C~

Harry had filled the chairs in front of the fireplace a thousand times. He had draped himself over Draco's desk dozens more. He had slunk the stairs, had watched from the window, had sat around long enough. He had had enough of the same repetitive, enclosed rooms. The only thing that Draco did was lay around and complain, eat, maybe do some homework if he got bored enough. Draco was a slug of an - Harry shuddered as he thought the word - owner. The only creature that would be willing and able to be roomies with Draco would be, well, slugs, and definitely not this cat. Harry craved the castle, a change for his Slytherin-sore eyes. While a certain 15-year-old took yet another four-hour nap (how did he do it?), Paws decided to venture out of the stuffy, confining dorms. Harry struggled to remember the feeling of the corridors beneath his paws. During the time it had taken for Harry to last escape from his "captors" (He couldn't really call them that, now; could you really call someone who snuggled you to their chest and scratched you behind your ears your captor?) the castle had changed, but hadn't in a way. Nostalgia gilded his sight and slowed down his perception - yes, this was Hogwarts. Students' faces were consistent with Harry's picture of the academy, but the mood certainly felt - offbeat, somehow. The light bounced off of the walls in a harsh fashion as the colors bled into each other, creating a damp, sickeningly contrasting palette.

Harry began to move closer to the chattering, bustling students on tentative paws. Feet shuffled around him and lively gossip competed for audibility. Cloaks flapped when the students brushed past each other in a pool of reds, blues, greens, and golds, while one poor student down the hall dropped his books. Murky ink crept across the floor as the boy scrambled to assemble his books; an inkwell had cracked. Harry snorted. At least he didn't have to deal with this shit anymore; he had no idea how Ron managed to regulate this mess. The commotion throughout the hallway, while somewhat intimidating and slightly dangerous for someone in Harry's predicament, was a relieving change for him, in comparison to the currently sleeping roommate downstairs. Harry trotted down the hall, missing barely missing people's feet more than a few times. It was a fair to Harry; a gleaming, vibrant circus, wild with movement and excitement. Examining everything that came into his line of vision, he peeked back into the life that he had not so long ago. He was taken back to the life of Hogwarts that he had so dearly missed.

However, there were still feet to trample or kick him, armed with their black-heeled shoes, or thick books to be dropped on him; dangers that could leave him alone and injured in the hallway. With no magic as a cushion, Harry had to actually fucking pay attention to his surroundings (he usually didn't). While watching out for possible injuries, he spotted Ron and Hermione. They were off to the side of the hallway, as prefects; Hermione telling students to hurry up and stop talking, giving first years directions to seasonal classes, and overall being a first-rate student, while Ron picked at his fingernails and watched Hermione awkwardly. Harry could approach them and get out of this situation. He could go back to normal.

But Draco was back there, and as stagnant a roommate he was, he wasn't just a Death Eater's son. He was a human being whose depression wasn't going to go away with spectators. Draco needed someone with an open mouth, someone who wouldn't aim to force him back into his mold, someone who would help him out of it and into a more fitting one. Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, Hermione now fixing Ron's horribly-tangled tie. They were his best friends. If Harry had to delay his return to their sides for a little while longer to help someone in need, even if they didn't like that someone, they would live. So he let them leave. He watched their backs as they shuffled to their next class, heeled shoes clicking on the worn ground. They didn't have to spend hours searching for him, or constantly worry about their missing friend, or hope that today was the day that he would walk through the Fat Lady's portrait hole. He would hug them both soon enough and reenter their lives. And so he left.

The Slytherin dorm was on the same side of Hogwarts as Gryffindor Tower; this was how Harry's "little pinkie nose" was invaded by a strange, coppery scent. Damn his heightened smelling skills, for they gave him a curiosity that was overwhelming. Whatever part of his mind told his white-tipped paws to move toward that ominous stink, he cursed.

His paws led him toward Gryffindor Tower, where the smell was the strongest.

His curiosity had gone as quickly as it appeared.

Theodore had been watching Draco carefully for the past few weeks, observing the blond's moods and actions. That was one of Theo's talents: being able to read moods and react accordingly. He found that Draco's steps had been lighter lately, his smiles and replies to his friends less forced, almost coming out on their own. Draco slipped into a more comfortable state more often, and his snarky perk had come back, too. And, with the return of Draco's crude and unfiltered comments, his friends didn't show any signs of being offended. However, more people outside of his close group of friends bugged him about it and told him how strange it was that he was cheerful for once. He told them to shove off, but at the same time, he couldn't deny it. But if he said that this cycle hadn't happened before, he would be lying. These periods typically lasted for a day and a half before he slowly retreated back behind his border and fell from his cloudless sky. And when Draco fell, he fell hard, on either his face or his ass. The next week, Theodore reminded himself carefully, would be painful for all of them. Even though he liked seeing some weight lifted off of Draco's shoulders, he couldn't help but frown upon Draco's reason for his happiness.

So Theodore watched Draco closely, always. He made sure that Draco ate and did his best to scold him when he didn't, encouraged him to do his homework, woke him up, and made sure that Draco was in presentable condition. No one acknowledged it, but the fact remained that Theodore was probably the best friend that Draco could have or wish for. Draco's parents didn't care, so Theodore cared enough to cover that.

However, Draco was slowly becoming less dependent on Theodore. He could do it, yeah, he was holding up. He was fine. No, he didn't need any help with that. It was okay, he could get it on his own. Any other person would have said that this was a good thing, that Draco was improving. But if Draco was improving, would he still have a roller coaster of moods? Would he still be able to create a flawless mask to shield himself? No, no. Draco was only getting worse, only getting more into his role of the "perfectly fine" teenager, only this time, his armor would have less kinks. Theodore wanted to help so badly, but his signals never got through the right way to Draco.

So tonight, Theodore padded down the steps thoughtfully, ideas materializing in the better part of his mind on how to go about his task.

Theodore's still unestablished presence had drawn no eyes to him. Draco's eyes were fastened to a book, trying to ease his nerves before his meeting with Mr. Malfoy, whose eyes had narrowed during their previous encounter of Draco's loss of "enthusiasm" (or care of what happened to him). The cat that had appeared with Draco one day long ago was abandoned on the chair next to Draco. There was an uncomfortable mood surrounding them (similar to the one that you would feel around a couple that had just had a fight) that suggested that he had been pushed away. Strangely, there was a smugness fused with that tense aura that gave the implication that Draco had not come out on top. But how could the cat have possibly won a fight with Feisty the Ferret over here? Maybe he could research the spell that that mad old professor had used and test it out… Wait, he wasn't here to turn Draco into a ferret, that would have to wait. He scrambled to bring forth the words he had planned earlier-

"Draco," he said. The blonde looked up from his book, a rare spark of attentiveness in his eyes. "How can I…" he stopped, frozen, poised to talk but not quite ready to spring into action. He could see Draco's interest diminishing like a light flickering out. He abandoned all careful, fancy wording and spat out the question. "How can I help you?" The light was back on, cautiously burning, not even knowing that it was.

Draco considered his answer carefully, too. "Why would you need to help me, and with what?" His expression seemed genuinely irritated as he flipped a page huffily. "I can never fucking understand you, Theodore." Theodore smirked, Draco's eyes dimmed with guilt. That wasn't true; Draco had stiffened from the moment he had asked the question. "I'm not a child, you know. I don't need you to take care of me."

Instantly, all of Nott's hopes of trying to assist his friend through this tough time crumbled. If there was one wall that Theodore couldn't break through, it was Draco's damn pride. This was the problem about it: it was upheld at the most inconvenient of times.

Theodore was not a good liar, and Draco could tell. He peeled away the complicated excuses for Theodore's prodding like an onion. To be honest, he almost felt sorry for Theodore. Did they not think that maybe it was hard for Draco, too? That maybe he didn't want to bring his friends into this? The idiots, they couldn't - ugh, they would never understand. Draco didn't want them to understand. They shouldn't have to. If they wanted to help him, they should try stopping being so damn determined to do so.

Theodore left with his tail between his legs. Draco felt a twinge of remorse tug at his stomach as he watched him go. Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh with him… After all, Theo was just trying to help him. Whatever. They wouldn't understand, anyway. He looked over at Paws, who appeared to be listening this whole time. Paws flicked his tail and went back to sleep, clearly being a little fucking bitch.

How about that first year of Hogwarts, a better time? They roamed around the castle, taking classes, being little snots, having much more fun than they were at the moment. There was no threat of Voldemort - at least that they had known of yet. It was much simpler and easier to be ignorant than knowing because when you knew, you became involved, which was the last thing you wanted to do.

After all, the less you were told, the sounder you slept.

The only times that Draco had gone outside of the castle were on the days that he had responsibilities to fulfill: going to outdoor classes, Quidditch practice. Things that made his feet drag. The air smelled fresh and dewy, like it had just rained. It hadn't, of course; the smell was merely the product of the low autumn mists that had fled to the castle grounds this morning. The fog still surrounded Draco, a moist, milky-white yet somewhat translucent curtain. It was beautiful. He couldn't see much through it except for the looming presence of the castle that seemed to always be big enough to be seen.

This left him time to think about the subject that had been on his mind for a while now.

What the hell happened back in his dormitory that night? Was Potter really stark-naked on his floor? Why was Potter in the Slytherin dormitory to begin with? He was just thankful that no one else saw him, otherwise… they would talk.

If it wasn't Potter and he was just - oh, he didn't know, hallucinating or something, no doubt due to the lack of sleep because of Blaise's fucking wet dreams and waking up - why did he see Potter? What significance did Potter have in his life right now, other than he'd gone missing?

On that subject, why had Potter gone missing? Maybe he was on some special type of Chosen-One training that couldn't be on school grounds. Either that or he had been the cat that had seen Draco naked more times than he was comfortable with. Draco was hoping for the former.

Library lights are much too bright for poor, sleep-deprived eyes to have to go through this early in the morning. Hermione squinted as her vision was bombarded by the rays of light, both artificial from lamps and chandeliers that had been flicked on, and natural from the windows that thick, velvety curtains had just unveiled. She had woken up next to Ron in the library - had they spent another late night studying again? She had pushed him to do some more studying and homework after she was all caught up, so Ron suggested that they go to the library, which was odd because Ron usually complained about the library, most of their study sessions there ending up in accomplishing nothing but fueling arguments. With a strange sense of hope, Ron and Hermione marched over to the library, Ron leading the way. Hermione had just started to unpack her quills when Ron told her a way that they could find Harry. Hermione got excited and accidentally knocked over a lamp that was on one of the tables (...yeah, maybe she was a bit too excited, but it seemed totally reasonable because she hadn't seen her best friend in months). They set the date to launch their plan as tomorrow and make use of their time and study.

Now it was morning. They had slept in the library again. And the lights were bright.

Hermione wiped the drool from her cheek and gave the page she had fallen asleep on a once-over (okay maybe twice-over) to make sure she didn't get any on it (of course, she did). While she vigorously wiped at the book's pages, she spotted Ron in almost the same predicament as she was. His hair was sleep-mussed and drool poked out of the side of his mouth. The book that was open was thick. She must have fallen asleep before he did, because he was further into the book than he was when she had last peeked over his shoulder. Hermione smiled softly, proud of Ron. Studying without her badgering him about it. She had spent a lot of time with him in the past few weeks. This situation really brought them closer together. They joked - really joked, and smiled, and combined their ideas to get their best friend back. Usually they were connected through Harry, or it was him that solved their arguments. This time, it wasn't, and they were okay.

Hermione tip-toed over to his side of the desk and began to gather the scattered books that lay abandoned on the desk. They had already poked through them and gotten the notes that they needed. Madame Pince wouldn't be too pleased that they had kept some of her precious books out late - but then again, it wasn't like she had any knowledge of them being there. They had tucked themselves into the furthermost corner of the library, well hidden with bookshelves and the Invisibility Cloak if necessary. She realized about halfway through this that she had been looking at Ron the whole time, observing his sleep-face. Then, without thinking, she suddenly bent down and kissed the top of his head gently. She pulled back, blushing and wondering what in the world she was doing. She must have been tired. Oh, well. Hermione obliviously went back to collecting the books.

The Slytherin entrance to the dungeons was not too far away from Gryffindor tower, which Harry was thankful for. Usually, he didn't like having Slytherin dorms as close as they were, but this time he did. If another person was viewing him right now, he would probably appear as just a black streak speeding down the hallway. His hurried pace was for a reason that he had just discovered and didn't want to remember; He just wanted to get away from… whatever that was back there.

For a brief moment, Ron and Hermione were thought about. Were they there when whatever had happened occurred? Were they alright? Harry steered his mind sharply to the fact that yes, they were okay. Ron and Hermione were both very strong and competent people. Surely they would be okay against some monster like that, when they had helped him face many more monsters that were most likely far more dangerous than the one that had attacked Gryffindor Tower. It was also highly unlikely that they were at the tower at the time, right? They were alright. They must be.

Surprisingly, Draco crossed his mind after that. Was he okay? Was he even involved in this? Harry suspected so, but even if he was able to tell someone, Ron or Hermione, perhaps, they would say that he needed proof and that this was too risky to just jump into and remember the time in the second year when he falsely accused Draco and it lead to a bunch of extra work that they hadn't needed to do and Harry calm down it was just their view on the problem he didn't need to get worked up about it -

And he sighed. Because this was what usually happened when you got too into an investigation; you made empty accusations with no real proof. It was a bad habit.

Tripping on his way down to the Slytherin dorms (he got a face-full of wood), Harry's pawsteps echoed in the deserted common room. Everyone was somewhere else in the castle, doing other things and not wanting to be alone in this boring tower… damn, did Harry miss the excitement of the castle, which he only briefly experienced once in awhile when he scampered outside of the door.

When he got back to his human form… would the castle really be the same? Would everyone still feel as safe as they did before, with the… the creature Harry just saw in his own, beloved Gryffindor tower?

God, it was horrible. What had become of his precious tower in such a short amount of time? The one place where he was actually secure and safe, distorted to such an extreme amount of horror? When had this happened? Why? Was… was Hogwarts even safe anymore?

Harry hoped so. If he lost this place, then where would he turn to?

For now, he turned to the steps and flew down another flight. Around the first week in his hellish vacation to Slytherin tower, he was terrified once he discovered that he began to get used to it, knowing it almost as well as his own. Now, he accepted the Slytherins as normal people, the same as him, only in a different house. The Sorting Hat's song came to mind. Once he thought back to the lyrics, he realized why. The four houses separated them. Each house took pride in being what it was - but was that really the way to go? Stereotyping each house and not trusting anyone?

Ravenclaws were nerds.

Hufflepuffs were pushovers.

Slytherins were Death Eaters.

Gryffindors were wannabe-heroes.

That was the way it worked in Hogwarts, which Harry realized more and more, was unfortunate.

Despite his thinking that he was alone in the dungeon, there was a certain blonde drama-queen was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and sporting a grumpy expression. No, Regina George was not sitting in the Slytherin Boys' Dormitory, it was someone who was just as well-dressed and twice as bitchy: Draco Malfoy. Okay, so maybe he wasn't as controlling or douche-y as he used to be; Harry had assumed that his time spent in the hospital wing had humbled him down a little bit. He didn't jump on top of the conversation as he used to, he let others take the lead once in awhile, and while he was still important, he didn't use it.

However, Draco was still as snarky and sarcastic as he used to be. Harry was still amazed by the speed in which he could come up with stinging insults. He didn't insult his friends, though, as he would previously. His temper tantrums had been reduced by an overwhelming amount.

But there still were some, like right now.

A book had been flung across the room, looking very lonely and abandoned. It was titled, "Hallucinations and Their Causes: A Guide". Harry guessed that Draco had been trying to read it and got frustrated because he realized that the naked Harry that he saw in his room the other night was not, in fact, a figment of his imagination. Draco wore a pout that suggested that he was done with cats for the rest of his life.

He spotted Harry out of the corner of his eye and tried to burn a hole through his tail using that intense glare that he carried. "Do you need something?" he spat. Harry didn't reply, of course. He wasn't sure that he would know how, even if he could.

That damn cat was going to be the end of him. Right when Draco needed him the least, he was there. He was always. There. He was watching. Draco was positive that Potter was trying to drive him insane and succeeding. It seemed like a Potter-ish thing to do, after all.

Something was different, though, at least this time. He didn't try to claw Draco's face off when he had been rude to him. In fact, he hadn't moved at all. "Where've you been all this time?" he finally said. "It seems like you're never around anymore. It's a bit of a pussy move, eh, Potter?" His snorted at his own joke died in the silence. He looked away. "In all seriousness, Potter - well, as serious as chatting with a cat can get - you're being even more of an ass than usual." When a sudden chill came over the room, he risked reaching his hands out of his blanket cocoon and exposing them to the chilly air to pull the blanket even more over his head, creating a bit of a hood. "It's all really cute and everything, but if you could cut it out for now, that would be fabulous. I'm not in the mood for your shit."

Harry, however, was tired, too (unbeknownst to Draco). He couldn't talk, couldn't express himself in any way, couldn't tell someone about what he just saw in his old tower. He was powerless if any other dangers should come, and if there was anything that Harry Potter hated, it was being powerless. He felt the need to talk to Draco about his father, about what was going on. He was still opposed to anything that involved contact with moody bitches, though. So that was not the most favorable option. Nevertheless, Draco didn't seem to care.

"I got a letter today, Potter. Guess who it's from, guess who it's for?"

Oh, oh no, it took one sentence for the atmosphere to get so tense he was suffocating. Harry's heart, oh God, his heart; it beat wildly, almost tauntingly, like a bomb threatening to kill everyone within fifty feet at any moment. His stomach thrust itself into his throat and for a moment he thought he was going to puke. Was he in trouble? Draco announced it in a way that could maybe, just maybe be implying that a random, dumb person's random, dumb letter somehow involved him, a confused chosen-cat-child-man. He glanced at Draco in a dull manner (well, as dull as he could be while his vital organs thrashed maniacally beneath his bones), a silent suggestion for him to go on.

Draco scraped a shaking hand through his hair, which had gone from well-kept and greasy to neglected and still greasy. This was an accurate portrayal of Draco's development this year. "It's a letter, from… from Headmaster Dumbledore." The rage had seeped out of his voice, leaving stress and fear room to leak in, little by little. It had been happening repeatedly, to the point where Harry appearing in Draco's room might not have sent him to the blueprints of his next scheme for Harry, but had… scared him? "It's concerning," he coughed harshly, "'your newly acquired pet.' Damn, nosy adults can't keep their heads up their own asses." Everything was silent except for an almost inaudible cat-snort. Draco's head snapped towards him, eyes flaring.

"Damn you, Potter."

"This is where the old creep hides out, right?" Whenever Draco used to talk to 'Paws' before, part of him would secretly anticipate a reply, some sort of indication that he wasn't crazy, that talking to his pet cat as if it was the wizarding world's Golden Boy was acceptable.

But now, this was Harry. It was confirmed. So why did it still bother him when all he got was a bored look in reply?

He spoke the password that had been stated in the letter (it was dumb as hell, by the way. "Flaming Kiwi Cup". Was this guy really fit to run a school?) to the ass-ugly Gargoyle on the wall and stepped into the Griffon's feathery grip, Harry in his arms the whole time.

Before knocking on the door, Dumbledore's weary eyes gazed into Draco's. They blinked, still staring, before his head turned to the side and the contact was cut off. Draco felt empty, somehow.

But none of this happened quite yet. The door hadn't even opened, after all. Draco took this opportunity and changed that. He grasped the door's tarnished handle and pressed his weight on the door, only to have it open and reveal Snape, Dumbledore, and Theodore already seated on the other side. "Draco, please have a seat. We have a bit of a discussion ahead of us and some arrangements to make, if you're up to it." Dumbledore smiled genuinely, his eyes crinkling at the end. He spotted Paws and winked at him.

Draco felt all eyes on him as he crossed the floor, footsteps echoing uncomfortably loud. God, this was so weird. He had never felt welcomed into the Headmaster's office, and especially had never had the courage to actually have a seat and hold a conversation with him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he intended to do just that.

"So Draco," Professor Dumbledore said once he had sat down. "You've had several calls to your father recently… in fact, one every night." Draco's stomach dropped and he froze. Dumbledore took no notice, or he did and decided not to plunge Draco further into embarrassment.

"Y-yes, I suppose…" Draco breathed. How the hell…? His head whipped around to Theodore, who was glaring at the ground and sweating profusely.

"And we have some reports from some students that these particular calls have been causing some stress for you. You don't have to elaborate on that at the moment, but having such stressors, especially from one's parents, is not good. And you're a growing boy and student; you need your attention on something positive.

"However, your professors have also noticed that you've been much better lately, not only academically, but mentally." Dumbledore smiled. "People notice these things, Draco."

Yeah, Harry thought. He's kind of a drama queen, so noticing him is not a tough task.

"Anyway, Draco, people have noticed that the positive changes started around a month ago… in other words, around the time where you acquired our furry friend here." Dumbledore nodded towards Paws. "Are you planning on keeping him, Draco?" Draco swallowed thickly and nodded, giving a small yes, sir.

"Good." Dumbledore smiled. "We believe that may be the best for you. However…" Dumbledore pulled his wand from his robe swiftly and levitated Paws. "We believe that it might not be the best for this little one here." Setting him down on the floor, he pulled a blanket over the confused cat. With a soft swish of his wand, its form began to change under the blanket and a mess of black hair emerged from the top of the blanket. Harry Potter looked up, scowling out of embarrassment.

"I knew it…" Draco muttered as he stood up and made his chair shoot back. "What's the meaning of this, Potter? What perverted intentions were behind this?!" He shouted.

Harry stood in turn, huge blanket swaddled around his shoulders. "Don't go pushing your accusations on me, Malfoy! It's not like I could explain myself or even get out of the dorm this past month, arsehole! How do you think I've felt?!" Harry quipped back.

"Boys, please." Snape's drawl cut through their argument. "Sit down and pay your headmaster some respect." Harry turned to see that there was suddenly a chair behind him. Huh. Thanks, Headmaster.

"Thank you, Severus." Dumbledore nodded. "I apologize for this sudden unveiling. It was in no way my plan that this should happen, but might I say that it worked out nicely." He cleared his throat. "The point is, gentlemen, that there have been significant improvements due to this arrangement. So we would like to continue it." Harry's nostrils flared. How could Dumbledore suggest something like this?! Did he have any clue how uncomfortable Harry had felt in the past month? "Not as a cat, though, Harry. We would just like for you to have a separate dorm with Draco. You would have the same classes that you did prior to the incident, just your living arrangements would differ. You would be welcome to invite your friends over to your dorm, however, we would ask that you two are together as much as you were in your previous form, Harry."

Harry shot up. "Excuse me, Profess-"

"Harry, a word, please," Dumbledore interrupted. Harry stopped, his mouth still slightly ajar. He felt rage burn in his gut. Dumbledore always did this; didn't Harry know what was best for himself? "Severus, would you mind?" He nodded toward Snape, who lead Draco and Theodore outside. Draco looked back and sneered, while Theodore glanced around nervously. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Dumbledore, who was watching patiently. "Firstly, my boy," Dumbledore said as he waved his hand and a set of robes fell onto his palm with a small plop. "Please put these on. I'm sure you can't be very comfortable like that." Harry looked down, becoming conscious of the blanket around his shoulders again.

Fuck.

He took the robes from Dumbledore and stepped over to the side of the room as Dumbledore summoned a small curtain between them so Harry could change. He tugged on the clothes, which were all there, and mulled over what he would have to say to Dumbledore. He never took him seriously unless Harry was stern. He needed to make sure that Dumbledore knew that he wasn't messing around here. He straightened his tie angrily and mentally prepared himself, reciting his speech in his head. The curtains were pulled aside swiftly and they swished behind Harry. He strode over to Dumbledore, who was playing with a small, round knickknack that looked like a Muggle mood ring. Of course. He turned around to face his student. "Did you have something you wanted to discuss, Harry?" He asked gently.

The calmness of Dumbledore's tone took Harry off guard. He thought Dumbledore would be more forceful about this, and Harry closed his eyes and took a breath. He needed to be mature about this. "Sir, I don't think this is a good idea. Have you seen any of me and Dra- Malfoy's interactions? We'll kill each other before the week is up!"

"Harry, Draco Malfoy is crucial to us, with his father being very influential at the Ministry, as well as him being a student at Hogwarts and one of your peers." Harry shifted to his other foot. Dumbledore spoke so softly and politely, but his words hit hard. Draco was a kid. He was one of Harry's classmates. "If you want to help this school and Draco, it would be best if you could stay with him for a little bit." Dumbledore looked up at Harry and pierced him with his icy blue eyes. "Harry, I am asking you this as a favor. I am not going to force you to do this, but I would really like you to, as a favor." A chill ran down Harry's spine as he felt those eyes on him, but thankfully the Headmaster looked away. Dumbledore stepped around his desk and spoke in his normal, strong tone again. "You can take a day to make up your mind. Please try not to spread this around a lot, as rumors tend to be warped in this school, and often step past the line between 'harmless' and 'harmful'." Harry nodded. "Be careful going about the school, Harry. I expect you back here at 10:30 tomorrow morning. That should be right in the middle of second period, so you should be able to get here unnoticed."

Harry thanked Dumbledore and made his way out, sparing a look at Malfoy before he left, before making it halfway down the stairs and realizing that he was going to see Ron and Hermione again.

Ohhhh, I smell a romance blossoming! (\^v^\ )

AND HERE IS HARRY! BACK THIS CHAPTER! PRAISE THE LORD ALMIGHT BECAUSE EVERYONE WAS FREAKIN' THE FUCK OUT!

Anyway, here is the chapter. Will Harry agree? Will Narcissa survive? Will Mr. Dust Bunny return? WILL ROMIONE COME TRUE?!

But of course, that all awaits in the next chapter! Until then, lovelies!

Review or poor Theodore will have diharrea

wow poop jokes i'm mature

But seriously, reviews keeps me going. I don't want to write a story that no one wants to read. Please review!

~C~