That evening, Harry lay restlessly in his bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. He had to admit that he missed his bed in Gryffindor tower, with its appearance of safety and warmth, no matter how deceptive those appearances could be. It was the curtains that did it. Having those red curtains surrounding him made him feel hidden, enclosed; wide open spaces made Harry a bit nervous, maybe because of the exposure of the area or, more likely, a side-effect of having spent his formative years in a cupboard. Yet another thing to thank the Dursleys for. Maybe his parents would let him decorate that way when he got home.

A room at home? Harry had never really thought of that. He wondered whether his parents' house was big. Maybe it was cosy. He believed that wherever they lived would be comfortable because James and Lily seemed like comfortable, wonderful people, but it was interesting to think about having a room that wasn't under a set of stairs, nor primarily decorated with broken down junk.

Just then, the door to the ward swung open, bringing with it a flood of bright light from the hallway. Harry started, but no one else seemed bothered; he supposed they must be used to this sort of interruption. Propping himself up on his elbows, Harry watched to see who'd interrupted his thoughts. What he saw was Draco walking over to his bed, ashen, a crease of worry between his brows. Concerned, Harry watched him carefully. He hadn't seen Draco since he'd said good-bye to Harry and his parents and now it was nearly eleven o'clock. There was no way he could have been in session all this time.

Harry waved a bit, trying to get the other boy's attention, and feeling a little silly since he was just over an arm's length away. "Draco," he whispered loudly. "Where have you been? Are you all right?" When Draco didn't acknowledge him at all, Harry hopped out of bed and wandered over to his bedside, trying the reliable 'poke him in the shoulder' method of attention-getting.

If it was possible, Draco looked like he'd been physically dragged from his reverie. Blankly staring through Harry, he looked confused for a moment before saying, "Hmm? What? Oh, hello, Harry." By the tone of his voice, Draco was quite distracted. It would seem Harry hadn't been the only one lost in thought.

Harry offered a small smile. "You do realise that it's eleven, don't you? I hear people sometimes get in trouble for wandering the hospital at all hours," he said, joking.

"Oh, that. I was puttering around the nurses' station. Sometimes they don't mind me there, as long as I'm quiet and they're not too busy. It's just too hard to think in here - too many people and everything is so sterile. Not that it's not up front or anything, but the nurses help... I guess I just wanted to be around people."

Unsuccessfully trying to mask his hurt, Harry scuffed his bare feet along the floor. "You could have talked to me, you know," he mumbled.

Surprisingly, Draco smiled at this. "I know that, silly. I just wasn't ready to talk yet and I knew I wouldn't be able to help myself as soon as I saw you. You tend to bring things out of me when I don't really expect it."

Harry hoisted himself onto Draco's bed, kicking at Draco's legs, forcing him to sit cross-legged. Harry mirrored the position, so they were sitting facing one another. "Are you ready to talk now?"

"No." Draco smiled again. "But I'll tell you anyway. My doctor told me that she's extremely impressed with my behaviour as of late. According to her, I haven't tried hurting myself in nearly a year; I had no idea it had been that long. I'm 'withdrawing less often' and 'associating positively with others'." Draco made quote-motions with his fingers. "I suppose she's right, especially if by others, she means that boy in the next bed over who's comatose half the time."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Harry shifted closer, so his knees brushed against Draco's. "Besides, it's not just me. My family really liked you."

"They remind me of you," Draco replied, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, after a pause, he shuddered and added, "Except the nasty, bloated purple ones. Are you sure you're actually related to them?"

"Unfortunately, I'm quite sure." Harry tried squashing the angry flare that accompanied thoughts of Dudley and forced himself to focus on the topic at hand. "You're changing the subject, though. Why is getting along with others a bad thing?"

"I suppose it's not, inherently. But they're taking this as a sign that I'm getting better." He paused and took a deep breath. "Harry, they want to release me."

Harry stared at Draco with wide eyes before letting out the quietest whoop of joy possible. "But that's brilliant, Draco! No more hospital! No more of these stupid gowns that like to open at inopportune times. No more sharing a room with a bunch of other boys."

"Well," Draco said, reaching over to stroke Harry's cheek. "I rather like that part." Harry knew he was grinning stupidly, but he couldn't particularly help it, especially if Draco's thumb was going to keep moving like that.

"Draco...." Harry closed his eyes, relishing the feel of the skin-to-skin contact, then reached over to grab Draco's free hand and --

Suddenly, a voice called from the corner of the room, "Will you two love birds shut the fuck up already?"

"Stuff it, Nott!" shouted Draco pleasantly. "Jealousy is such an ugly emotion."

Embarrassed, Harry told Nott that they'd keep it down.

Draco cocked his head to one side, jerking it towards the exit. "Want to get out of here?"

Harry shook his head. "No, let's just keep it down. Dr. Mason is kind of keeping a close watch on us and I'm really not interested in annoying him. He... well, he didn't yell, - I don't think he's capable of that - but he just wasn't too happy. Let's just say he had a particularly fascinating video of the two of us, which he was only too happy not to watch."

"What? Ohh," said Draco, momentarily looking confused, then realising what Harry had meant. "Damn. Yeah, I like him. No reason to make him unnecessarily mad."

"Especially not since we'll both be getting out of here soon." Harry excitedly squeezed Draco's hand.

Draco nodded slowly, still unsure. In a very quiet voice, he asked, "You'll still want to see me... out there?"

Harry snorted and grinned. "Are you crazy?" Pause. "Wait. Don't answer that." Draco smirked, as Harry continued, "Besides the fact that talking to you is more fun than I remember having had in a long time, I also... uh, uhm... want...." Harry stammered, mortified by what he was about to let slip.

"You also want the chance to see me naked again? It's understandable." Draco grinned. "I'm just worried about my reintroduction to the real world. You've really nothing to worry about; I mean, for living in an imaginary world for half your life, you're incredibly well-adjusted."

Again, Harry snorted in disbelief. "Yes, I'm oh-so-very normal."

Draco insisted, "You are. Besides, you had social interactions for years without ever leaving your bed. I just had these idiots." He gestured dramatically around the room.

"I heard that!" yelled the same voice as before.

"Shut up, Nott!" Draco yelled back, voice less pleasant this time around.

Nott made kissy noises in reply.

Lowering his voice even further, Draco muttered, "I'm going to wring his neck, I swear to God." He took a moment to compose himself and continued, "Anyway, there's school here, for those of us who can concentrate on it, but it's so individualised. I attended regular classes...before...but it's been years. Look at me; I'm a born outcast! I'm a pale, twitchy, scarred freak."

Harry's mouth dropped open. He couldn't believe Draco thought of himself that way. "I think you're b-beautiful," said Harry honestly, stumbling over his words a bit. "Pale, twitchy, scarred, maybe, yeah, but beautiful, too. And trust me, I am looking at you."

Draco's cheeks immediately coloured pink.

"Besides, you're sixteen. Maybe you can get taught at home before you're ready for university – if you even want to do that sort of thing."

"Malfoys go to Oxford, Harry," Draco said matter-of-factly. "Only the best for us." He sighed heavily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ah, but you're not exactly a normal Malfoy, are you? You do whatever's good for you and, once I'm out of here, I'll help you. You must live at least somewhere nearby. I doubt your grandparents put you some place clear across the country."

"Malfoys have houses in every region. But true, my parents' main estate was located nearby and my grandparents also own property somewhere around here."

Harry wrinkled his brow and said, "I know my aunt and uncle lived in Surrey – Little Whinging, to be exact – but I'm not sure where my parents live. S'funny not to know where your house is. There are so many things in this life that I have no memory of."

With conviction, Draco said, "I know you'll get it. Whatever's missing... well, you might not remember it ever, but I know you'll adjust. Plus, I'll help you." Draco, who'd never seemed shy either in this world or the next, was now intently studying his knees.

"Yes, we'll need each other, won't we?" asked Harry, his courage returning. "It's not like I've been in a normal school for the past few years. I'm still adjusting to not having magic surround me. For instance, right now, I just want to grab my broomstick and fly."

"I'll grab your broomstick for ya', Harry!" called Nott.

Draco's eyes looked like they were about to bug out of his head, as Harry reddened considerably. "Nott, we are trying to have a private conversation here! Either stop listening, or bite your tongue before I tie it in a knot!" Draco looked fondly at Harry. "Besides, I saw him and his broomstick first."

Harry grinned. "Maybe some other time, Nott," he yelled back. Draco and Nott both laughed, far too loudly for the late hour.

"You really think I'll be all right once I'm released?" Draco asked tentatively.

"Yes," Harry insisted, suddenly resolute. "You'll have me and I'll have you." He flopped back onto Draco's bed, deciding he wasn't moving ever again.

"Good." Draco crawled alongside him and propped his head up, leaning in for a kiss. Harry closed his eyes and moved towards him, anticipating Draco's mouth, and studiously ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of his head.

As Harry probed the once seemingly willing mouth, it flinched a little before continuing its assault on Harry's tongue and he idly wondered if he'd accidentally bit Draco's lip. Since Draco didn't break the kiss, he decided he'd imagined what had happened and experimentally sucked on Draco's lower lip, eliciting a low moan from the other boy.

Eyes still half-closed, Harry pulled away and snickered. "What's Nott going to say if you keep making noises like that?" He started to lean in again.

"Potter, what the hell do you think you're doing?" A pause, then a confused, "Wait. What does Nott have to do with this?"

Harry's eyes opened all the way and, horrified, he flung himself to the opposite side of the bed. Draco was no longer stretched next to Harry. He'd been hovering over the bed and now was settling himself into a chair pulled close to Harry's bedside. The chair Draco sat in happened to be located in the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "Shit," was Harry's only reply.

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at him, ignoring the profanity. "Rumour has it that you were found passed out on the Quidditch pitch. Alone, at that, unless you count your Firebolt as company. Considering the people you usually associate with, I can't say that that's not an improvement."

Desperately trying to regulate his breathing while begging his brain to rid him of his – quite possibly very obvious, very embarrassing – arousal, he managed to say, "What the hell do you think you were doing, Malfoy? Why were you leaning over me like that? It's nice that you've taken a step up from just watching me sleep. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you think yourself to be my Prince Charming."

Malfoy looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I wasn't watching you sleep. That's daft. I was plotting your death for our Dark Lord."

"Ah. Like another shot at me, would you? I already told you that you had free rein." Harry felt a tiny bit more composed.

Malfoy seemed somewhat nervous. "I really was. I've got an assignment. Tomorrow I'm to let the Dark Lord and his followers past the wards. If you're unconscious, he'll kill you right then. If you're not, he'll fight you, I suppose." Draco leaned over so his forehead was now buried in Harry's mattress. "Not that I care or anything," he said, words muffled by the bedding.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't really know, Potter. Just be glad that I did."

"I think it's because you don't want me to die."

"I do," Malfoy insisted unconvincingly. "I just... I just don't know if I can be the one who does it." Bent over the way he was made Malfoy look lost and very young.

Shocking himself, Harry pulled back to the middle of the bed, then reached for the back of Draco's head. After hovering over the skin for a moment, Harry started soothingly rubbing at the nape of his neck. Draco started, but didn't bat away the offending hand or sit up. For a second, he froze, but then relaxed into the movement. Then, to Harry's amazement, he thought he heard Draco moan again softly. Mortified, Harry noticed that whatever arousal had dissipated was now threatening to make a reappearance.

I hate being sixteen, he thought dourly.

The two stayed that way for a few moments; Draco with his head bent, occasionally responding favourably to Harry's machinations, and Harry desperately willing himself not to get hard. And failing. Spectacularly. Yet, he never removed his hand from Draco's head until Draco suddenly sat up, looking flushed and dishevelled.

Draco allowed himself a small smile and said, "That's a rather weak spot of mine."

"I know," said Harry, before he could stop himself. He remembered the reaction he'd got on the balcony, his hands tangled through Draco's hair.

Lightly, Draco said, "You know? Why, have you been watching me messing around in dark corridors? Maybe I'm not the only one who's been watching someone else in secret. Oh, wait - you're probably trying to kill me, too."

Harry's eyes went wide. "What? No...I-I never! I wasn't...."

"Denial only makes my case stronger, Potter."

Exasperated, Harry said, "Dra- Malfoy, I am not following you around the corridors. I promise you that."

"Then why would you know something like that? And better yet, let's get back to my original question – why on Earth were you kissing me when you woke up?"

"Well, maybe I have one of those comas where a snog wakes you up!" Harry said angrily, before he could stop himself. "Or better yet, maybe I'd been kissing someone before you so rudely interrupted!"

Malfoy gave a short laugh at Harry's reaction. "Your coma seems kind of fun, Potter. Who were you kissing? Granger? Ooh, or maybe it was the Weasley bint. She's definitely got her... positive aspects." He paused, then taunted, "Or maybe it was the Weasley boy. Gangly limbs and a load of freckles do it for you? Never pegged you for a player on the other team."

Harry gave a snort of disgust. "Me, a player on the other team? I'm fairly sure you and I play on the same team, Malfoy."

Draco paused as confusion passed across his face, then suddenly looked taken aback. "I do not! I... I'm quite attracted to women." Another pause, then very quickly, "Are you sure you never saw me in a corner anywhere?"

Harry burst out laughing and despite his better judgment asked, "How would you react if I told you I'd been kissing my best worst enemy?"

"What? Wait. Me?"

"No. I was kissing Voldemort. Those red eyes really do it for me. Or wait! It was Snape. He and I were getting randy on the floor of the Potions classroom."

"Potter, you're making me ill."

Harry's laughter grew louder, while Draco looked at him like he was crazy, his eyes darting from side-to-side, and probably plotting his escape. Harry, still laughing, wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "Yes. It was you. I was kissing Draco Malfoy and quite liking it. Do you have a problem with that?" He leaned forward until his face was nearly touching Draco's again, daring him.

Draco answered that dare by closing the distance between them and forcing Harry's mouth open with a full-on tongue invasion. Harry was surprised, but not unpleasantly so, trying to match Draco's frantic movements with his own mouth. Breathless, they parted for a moment, and they stared at each other, that moment passing between them when Harry might skitter away or Draco might flee in terror. Then, Harry reached out, grabbing a fistful of Draco's robes and, pulling the other boy to him, kissed him desperately. Though he knew it wouldn't work, Harry tried pouring every ounce of his frustration, his doubts and his worries into the kiss.

He felt hands tangle through his hair and he moaned into Draco's mouth. Despite having seen Draco Malfoy naked not so long ago, Harry couldn't believe that he and Draco were snogging right now. This was the Draco he hated, after all. The one with the smirk and the maddeningly well-groomed hair and the one that had hated him back as intensely as Harry hated him.

Harry once again ran his hands through the once perfectly arranged hair, deriving a modicum of satisfaction from messing Draco up. Serves him right, Harry thought. Bring him down to my level. When he pulled away and got a look at Draco, messy hair and all, Harry's breath hitched. Pointy-faced, pale, arrogant Draco Malfoy looked completely debauched and Harry had never wanted something more in his life. Harry shrugged, figuring he had nothing to lose, and pulled Draco on top of him.

Draco, now face-to-face and, well, other things-to-other things, pulled back slightly. Harry mourned the loss. "This is crazy," Draco breathed. "You're crazy."

"Yes, well, I've been told I'm not quite right in the head. Do you want to stop?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. "I won't say anything if you do."

Draco mulled this over, while Harry shifted a bit, unintentionally brushing his erection against Draco's. Harry whimpered and Draco's decision was made. "No," he said firmly.

Leaning down, Draco caught Harry's lower lip between his teeth, while simultaneously bringing a hand up to unbutton Harry's pyjama top. The second Harry felt Draco's cool hand slide across the overheated skin of his chest, he gasped again, knowing that he'd soon be brought to incoherent whining. It felt strange to give Draco that kind of power over him, but Harry had bigger things to worry about, and giving into someone he supposedly hated - even for such a short amount of time - felt insignificant in the big picture.

Harry wrapped one of his hands around the back of Draco's head, deepening their kiss, moaning again when two of Malfoy's clever fingers rolled his nipple between them, his hips arching up off the mattress, surging against Draco's again.

"What do you - oh God - what do you want to do?" Harry murmured against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back, but didn't answer, instead choosing to scramble down the mattress and hook his thumbs into the waistband of Harry's bottoms. Harry kicked out when Draco reached his ankles, assisting him. He was back in a minute, the once-cool hand - now warmed by Harry's body - making a trail down his stomach. When Draco's hand curled around him, moving in strong, sure strokes, Harry cried out. This hand wasn't the least bit hesitant.

"You've done this before." It wasn't a question. Harry strained upwards, capturing those thin lips again. He suddenly felt impossibly clumsy, like he needed Malfoy to show him everything, and the prospect wasn't totally unpleasant. The lack of innocence in Malfoy's movements - contrasting with his Draco's - wasn't any less intoxicating, and Harry bucked and gasped, trying to control himself, just trying to hold on by any means necessary.

Harry placed a hesitant hand to the front of Draco's robes, fumbling with - but not releasing - the fastenings. Draco let go of his cock, causing Harry to make a whining sound he wasn't particularly proud of, and covered Harry's hand with his own. "Undo them already, Potter. Get this off me." Draco's voice was low, rough, and his impatience reminded Harry of the balcony.

I have to stop thinking about that.

"And if I don't?" Harry asked, getting his bearings again.

"Then I'll bind you to the bed, and leave you here like this for Madam Pomfrey to find in the morning." From the look in Draco's eyes, Harry could tell he was completely serious.

"Uhm." Harry started yanking hard at the fastenings, pulling the garment open. Draco shrugged the offensive thing from his shoulders, sighing softly as the air hit his exposed body. As something of a reward, Harry supposed, Draco brought his hand back to Harry's cock and began rubbing the head with his thumb, their bodies now so closely pressed together that Harry had lost count of the number of places on him that thrummed with pleasure at the contact.

Draco's mouth made its way down Harry's jaw, and Harry felt he could do nothing other than tip his head back so the other boy would have easier access. Draco laughed against Harry's skin, the reverberations making Harry moan again. "Like that?"

As though answering, Harry exhaled hard, beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead.

"I want to fuck you." Harry couldn't believe that anyone could ever have the gall to just say it like that. He had to admire Draco's bravery, though it was a distinct possibility that Draco would hit him if he shared that thought. At that question a hundred different things instantly ran through Harry's head, everything from Oh God, who's he done that to before? to I don't even know how that would work to Fuck, yes, now to...

"Won't we need something?"

Draco smirked against his skin; Harry couldn't believe he could recognise an expression simply by the way it felt. "We're in an infirmary. Don't you think they might have something like that around here?"

"Uh." Harry suddenly felt very stupid. "Well, then I don't want you to get up." And I'm scared out of my wits and I'll change my mind if you move away, you great prat. But he didn't bother saying that last bit out loud.

"Easily fixed," Draco said, rolling away to grab his wand out of his robes. He Summoned a lubricating potion, which crashed against the cabinet where it was being held. The smirk fell from his face.

Harry, still a little breathless, laughed. "Might want to open that first."

Shooting Harry such a dirty look that he was sure Draco was about to change his mind, the blond boy instead just opened the door, and Summoned the lubricant again, where it smacked into his palm.

Harry panted, as he watched Malfoy slowly rub the potion onto his own hard prick, his eyes closed, mouth slightly open and reddened, moaning with each thrust into his hand.

As Draco settled on top of him again, one finger, then two slowly pressing inside him, Harry's jaw clenched and he confessed, "I've never done this before."

"Just relax," Draco said, sounding more unconcerned and stress-free than Harry had ever heard him. Getting his enemy into bed seemed to do a lot toward mellowing him out. "I'll go slow."

Draco did everything slowly, just as he promised. Once Harry had grown accustomed to the fingers inside him, Draco lazily positioned himself between Harry's spread legs, slowly pushed into him inch-by-inch, slowly thrust in and out of Harry's body, circled his slicked hand around Harry's needy erection so he could slowly milk the orgasm from Harry's gasping, sweaty body, then gripped Harry's hips and finally sped up, coming and collapsing, exhausted, on Harry's chest.

The two stay tangled that way for a long, long time, Harry feeling simultaneously unsettled and content.

"I'd better go now."

"Probably." Pause. "You don't...you don't have to, though."

"No, I do. I'm probably up to my ears in trouble by now and I doubt Pomfrey would be too pleased to walk in and find me in your bed. I...that was unexpected."

"Was it bad?"

"No. No, whatever that was, it was definitely not bad. Just unexpected."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone what happened."

"Thank you. Potter...your secret's safe with me, too."

Laugh. "Oh, it isn't as though my reputation could get any worse. Don't worry about it."

Pause. "I won't help tonight. I can't. Not after...."

"Don't be silly. You'll get yourself killed. I'm right in saying you're not ready to die, right?"

"No. I mean, yes. I'm not ready to die."

"Tell Dumbledore what's happening, so he'll be prepared and can protect everyone, but do your job."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"You can."

"This can't change anything between us."

"I know."

With that, Draco was gone. Sitting up as he slowly buttoned his shirt, Harry found he was possibly more confused than he ever had been.

When Harry woke up the next day, he called out for his mother and father, though he immediately recognised his surroundings as Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey tried soothing him, but he gently pushed her away, inwardly irritated that she still thought him to be a small child. Small children weren't expected to defeat the greatest dark wizard of the age or stay indefinitely in a mental hospital. Nor were they responsible for defiling their beds because they'd done unspeakable things with one of their worst enemies. Can you really consider him an enemy anymore, Potter? nagged that irritating inner voice.

Harry didn't want to be treated like a child right now. When he hopped out of the bed and started pacing around, Pomfrey implored him to lay down again.

"I just don't feel like lying down anymore, Madam Pomfrey," he tried explaining. "Everywhere I go, I wake up in a bed. I'm sick of bed. Hell, maybe it's the beds that are making me fall unconscious."

Madam Pomfrey fixed him with such a glare that if looks could kill, Harry Potter would have had a lovely burial ceremony by then. "Considering we last found you on the Quidditch pitch, I somehow doubt the beds are responsible. You may walk around, as long as you stay within the confines of this room. Is that clear, Mr. Potter?"

Sullenly, Harry replied, "Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

Seemingly satisfied, Madam Pomfrey smoothed her apron. "Good. I came in here to tell you that you have some visitors."

"Oh. Really? That's all right then. Is it Ron and Hermione?"

Nodding, Madam Pomfrey bustled off to retrieve them. A moment later, Ron strolled in with Hermione practically bouncing in his wake. Perhaps my brain really did break this time, Harry thought, observing Hermione's uncharacteristic behaviour.

Jerking his head towards Hermione, he asked Ron, "What's with her?"

Ron shrugged and replied, "No idea. She won't tell me what it is. Probably a terribly fun piece of homework or a way to add an extra ten study hours to the day. She won't stop bouncing like that," he said, throwing a sideways glance in Hermione's direction. "Not that I mind that particular side effect."

For that, Ron got swatted across the stomach, causing him to double over slightly. "Ronald Weasley, you're a disgusting pig," sniffed Hermione.

"What? I was just appreciating the female form," he said indignantly. Harry laughed. "Now, tell Harry whatever it is you're so excited about."

"Oh yes, of course," said Hermione, now flustered. "I have some good news about your problem."

"Oh?" said Harry, raising an eyebrow. He carefully kept any sign of doubt from his voice.

Hermione nodded, still beaming. "Remember when I told you that I was working with some of the teachers? Well, Flitwick and I think we've come up with a possible solution for you. It involves Snape, too, but...."

Ron looked surprise. Obviously, he'd been told nothing of this breakthrough.

"It's experimental, of course. But we think that if we cast certain protection charms on you, in conjunction with a potion Professor Snape is developing, we may be able to block out fictional realities. The potion...well, this isn't it exactly, of course, but it's almost a cross between Veritaserum and a Dreamless Sleep Potion. The difference here is the effects would be permanent, especially when combined with additional protective charms."

"So, my other world would disappear," said Harry, mouth going completely dry.

Hermione nodded happily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her enthusiasm was not shared by all present. "This will be beneficial to you in other ways, Harry. I...I hate to bring this up, but do you remember the dreams that you were having about the door in the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry bitterly retorted, "Not about to forget that, am I?"

Hermione either didn't notice his tone or was still ignoring it. "Well, that was a form of what we think Voldemort is doing now. He'd no longer get to control your dreams, nor create a world that could effectively trap you. However, I don't believe it would do anything to actually stop your link the two of you have. You could still potentially see what he's doing, unless he blocks you out, just like he could possibly see what you do."

"What does that mean, exactly?" asked Harry.

"I'm not sure exactly what will happen, but I suspect you'd need to consider continuing your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. There's still potential for him either taking over your mind or gaining information by seeing what you see. He just wouldn't be able to make things up anymore."

Great. Lose my family, keep Snape. Fantastic prospect. Harry plastered a fake smile on his face, determined to look happy because she'd worked so hard, despite the war going on in his head. "That's great, Hermione. I'm so happy all your hard work paid off." Hermione practically glowed at the compliment.

Ron patted Harry on the back. "It'll be really good to have you back full time, Harry."

Harry softened and tried a more sincere smile. "You're right. It would be nice to not wake up here every couple of days, not quite knowing where I am. I do have a question, though. Will this potion affect my dreams at all? Will I still dream normally, I mean?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione. "Yes, of course. It will only block foreign invasion. Besides Voldemort, no one else should be able to place fake memories in your head."

"This almost sounds too good to be true," said Harry, bitterness creeping back into his voice. Hermione looked like she was about to reply, but Harry interrupted her. "Can either of you find Dumbledore for me? Or find McGonagall, if you can't find him. It's urgent." Ron and Hermione both nodded and dashed out of the room.

About twenty minutes later, Harry's two friends returned with Dumbledore. The Headmaster peered over his glasses and said, "Harry, you needed to speak with me?"

Harry didn't ask Ron and Hermione to leave, but in a soft voice asked the Headmaster, "Did Draco Malfoy come see you today?"

The Headmaster looked surprised, which Harry took as a no. He felt anger rise in his chest. He really thought he could trust Draco. He supposed that was what he got for confusing his fantasy with his reality.

Sighing, he raised his voice to his normal level, as he warned Professor Dumbledore, "I think there's going to be an ambush on the school tonight. Draco Malfoy's supposed to let down the wards so they can attack. I believe the first order of business will involve killing me as I sleep." Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, while Ron instantly looked murderous.

"How do you know all this?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry sighed and said, "I...I can't tell you that, sir." If Malfoy hadn't told, Harry wasn't about to say it. Besides, that would only lead to questions Harry wasn't ready to answer. "I'm just sure it's going to happen." Harry wasn't positive, but he thought he detected a little twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes.

Dumbledore nodded and said, "You never let me answer your original question. Mr. Malfoy did indeed come see me this morning. We agreed that he should let down the wards and then retreat for safety. The well-being of my students is of my first priority and it would do you well to remember that you're included in that, Harry. Believe me, you will be well-protected tonight." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Draco had told. He might not be perfect, or even particularly good, but at least Harry could now truly believe that the boy he wanted didn't want him dead. Regular people don't have these problems, he thought mournfully.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," he said sincerely.

"Thank you for telling me, Harry. I'm also pleased you and Mr. Malfoy have been getting along so well throughout this ordeal." Dumbledore swept out of the room with a smile on his face. Harry closed his eyes and wished the bed would swallow him up whole. He wondered just how much the Headmaster really knew. Stupid hormones.

Opening his eyes, he tried ignoring the shocked expressions on Hermione and Ron's faces. "So. Anything else interesting going on around here?"

"What does he mean you and Malfoy have been getting along so well?" shouted Ron, causing Harry to wince. "Malfoy, Harry?"

Harry then clapped his hand to his head and heard Dr. Mason's voice. Again, he was being pulled through glue.

"Harry? Harry, snap out of it. Harry?" He felt a series of light taps along the side of his face. Dazed, his eyes flickered open.

"Yes, I'm here, Prof...I mean, Dr. Mason." Harry tried shaking off the groggy feeling he was having.

Dr. Mason smiled kindly. "I'm glad you kept our appointment."

"Appointment?" Oh. Right. Harry recalled his promise from last evening. "Woke up just in time, then, did I?"

Chuckling, Dr. Mason nodded. "I had Vincent and Greg lead you down here because I wanted to see if I could wake you up."

"And you did. How? Same way my parents did?"

"Somewhat, I suppose. With your parents, I had them focus on you and the love they have for you to get your attention. When I was calling your name just then, I was simply calling your name. It's an interesting development, to say the least; I deeply suspect that if I'd just called your name several times a few weeks ago, you would not have done anything at all. So, congratulations on all your work."

Harry mumbled a thank you. He straightened in his chair and said, "You said you had a theory on my situation yesterday. Can you tell me what that was?"

Mason nodded. "You told me you were ready to work yesterday, right?"

"I am." Harry was more confident now. He wanted his parents and comfort and a home. A Draco that wasn't morally ambiguous – at least, not in ways that weren't wholly pleasant to Harry's person. He didn't want to be sentenced to a life as the saviour of the world, pursued by a madman.

"Do you remember I told you that the work might be painful?" Harry nodded. He was accustomed to pain. "This pain may be emotional, more than physical. Are you still willing to try?"

"What have I got to lose?"

"Well, for one, I believe it would effectively end your fantasies. The world you've known for the past six years will vanish."

Harry had already suspected as much; he'd soon have to choose. "And what do you mean by emotional pain?"

"Well," Dr Mason said gently, "I believe in order for this to succeed, you have to cut your ties to that world while still in that world."

Looking confused, Harry chewed on his lower lip. "I'm not sure if I understand what you mean, Doctor."

"You'll have to concentrate on your life here. Tell yourself that Hogwarts – and everything and everyone inside of it - is make-believe. Tell yourself that this is the real world, not that one." The doctor paused, as though he was unsure how to put what he wanted to say.

"I think I understand that much, Dr. Mason. I'm just not sure how to do it."

"You showed signs of improvement once some of your emotional ties were cut in that world. You've withdrawn somewhat from your friends and your godfather has died." Harry shuddered, not wanting to be reminded. "I think you need to cut that off completely. Cut your emotional ties. Run from the school, do whatever you have to do so your friends no longer associate with you. The more alone you are there, the less alone you'll be here."

Inhaling a shaky breath, Harry agreed.

"You'll have to fight. You'll have to believe you're as strong as I know you are. Are you willing to fight?"

"I am willing to fight," Harry said. Silently, he added, I'm willing to hurt my friends. He sighed deeply.

"Good. Take your time with this, Harry. But this will ultimately aid in your complete recovery."

The more alone he was there, the less alone Harry should feel here. Trapped between two worlds, with people who loved him and saw after his well-being on both sides, Harry doubted he'd ever felt more alone.

Once he was back in his room, everyone else was missing. After getting settled on his bed, he willed himself back to Hogwarts. He wasn't all that surprised when it actually worked.