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Sleeping With the Enemy, Part Eight:
Sorrow

Professor McGonagall dismissed the class, then asked Draco to stay after. He walked calmly to her desk.
"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy." she directed him, and he sat down, that familiar urge of escape falling upon him, even though he'd done nothing wrong. Lately.
"Recently, a terrible... thing... has been brought to my attention," she began. "A group of students has apparently begun terrorizing other students at night." She fixed him with a severe gaze. "Mr. Malfoy, do you have anything to do with this?" she demanded.
Draco was startled, but he didn't show it. "Of course not!" he protested smoothly. She narrowed her eyes.
"Then where were you last night, Malfoy?" she said sharply, "because you weren't in you room." Draco's mouth opened and then closed soundlessly. He knew that nothing he said would convince the //God damned// Transfiguration teacher.
"I don't know anything about that." he repeated. She harrumphed.
"Malfoy, if you can't give me an answer then-"
"It wasn't me!" he said, gray eyes flashing.
"Really, and who can vouch for that?" she countered. He was silent. "That's what I th-"
"Potter." he said quietly. She looked at him, confused, and apprehensive. "Harry Potter can vouch for me." She blinked, catlike, then snorted disbelievingly.
"Honestly," she began, though less certain, "If you can't tell me-"
"Harry knows!" he shouted, rising from his chair. She eyed him speculatively.
"Stay here." she instructed the Slytherin, and left. A few minutes later she returned, a bewildered Harry trailing in her wake.
"Harry," she said neutrally, "Mr. Malfoy claims that you can tell me where he was last night, as he wasn't in his bed." Harry shot Draco a startled look that plainly said 'What have you gotten yourself into *now*?', and Draco's mouth twitched into a repressed smile. "Can you?" the teacher prompted.
"Professor, I-" Draco nodded, giving Harry permission to divulge their secret. Besides, it would be incredibly amusing to see how both McGonagall and his own Harry would be mortified by it all. "He was... with me last night, Professor." he admitted, blushing //adorably// crimson at her scandalized gasp. He plunged onward. "He was sleeping when we heard Ginny scream, I know he was, I remember, I *know* he's not involved in any of *that*, I promise."
Poor aging McGonagall didn't know what to say. She sat down heavily and adjusted her glasses. Finally, she said,
"Do you boys have any idea of who is doing all this?" she asked quietly. Both shook their heads. She sighed. "I'll have to inform Albus about this..." Suddenly, tears filled her eyes. "He's been working so hard with the resistance group, there have been so many casualties but he's always there at the front line..." she sank back, massaging her temples. Harry and Draco exchanged helpless glances. But then McGonagall raised her head and asked the air, "Why was he in your bed?" Harry blushed again, so Draco explained.
"It's not safe for me in my dorm anymore," he told her, "I don't know who's involved, but I know some Slytherins are, and when I didn't join, it became... risky," he finished delicately. The Transfiguration teacher frowned.
"Slytherins? I'll have to discuss this with Severus." she muttered.
"Er," Harry interrupted, "Professor Snape hasn't really been himself lately."
"He seems to be under a lot of stress, and sometimes it's like he doesn't even know where he is." Draco supplied. McGonagall blew her nose into her handkerchief and nodded.
"That's all boys, you may return to class now, unless there's anything else you need."
"Er," Harry broke in again.
"Yes Harry?"
"Is it okay if Draco still sleeps in our dorm?" McGonagall blinked, then coughed.
"I imagine that would be all right," she concluded, pulling out a blank parchment and licking her quill. "only, you must inform the other occupants of your newest addition," she gave them a watery smile and wrote out a pass and gave it to Draco.
"Thanks, Professor!" Harry called as the two exited the classroom.
They walked down the hallway together in comfortable silence. Harry stopped reluctantly. "I've got to go," he said to Draco, "see you tonight?"
"Harry," Draco said softly, "why not skip class, just this once." His black-haired boyfriend stared at him. Draco took this opportunity to seize Harry's wrist and pull him up to Gryffindor Tower. He managed to pull Harry through the portrait hole before he began to resist.
"Draco! I've got to go!" he said crossly, then yelped as he was pushed backwards onto a couch.
An elegant body draped itself over him. "Just this once?" Draco whispered, kissing Harry's neck.
"Mmmm," Harry sighed, and gave in. "Okay."
Draco smirked and began to fiddle with the clasp of Harry's robe...
~*~
Dean and Seamus sat together in the library, talking quietly and doing their homework. They had been in there quite some time when Seamus suddenly looked out the window.
"The sun's gone down," he said, glancing around uneasily. The library was empty and dark outside the pool of light that spilled from their candles. Quiet anxiety settled in Seamus' stomach. "We should go." he whispered to Dean, who nodded. They gathered their things together and softy left the library and set off quickly towards the Gryffindor Tower. They did not talk, and Seamus became increasingly more tense, looking behind them into the dark gloomy hallway every couple of seconds.
Abruptly, the couple heard voices up ahead of them. Dean acted quickly, pulling Seamus with him into a small side passage and blowing out their candles with practiced ease, and not a moment too soon. From around the corner a group of cloaked and hooded figures walked boldly, whispers and the rustle of cloth combining eerily. Seamus' stomach was in his throat; fear clawed at him in the form of icy fingers and sinister laughs. Dean clutched him, covering Seamus' mouth tightly with his hand. His heart was beating so loud he was sure it would give them away.
They were on the terrified Gryffindors, and Seamus caught a stray whisper.
"In the library..." and then they were gone in a rustling of black cloth like a snake stalking its pray. Dean and Seamus waited motionless for what felt like hours but was only a minute or so, then Dean dragged him out and they ran silently, adrenaline fueling them and they passed through the dark corridors all the way to the Fat Lady, faces peeping out at every corner and turn. Seamus nearly screamed once when the saw Nearly Headless Nick glowing spookily at the end of a hallway. But they made it, stumbling and trembling, back into the warm blessed light of the common room.
There weren't too many people there, so Dean related their close escape, all eyes fixed on him, and a shaking Seamus, who clung tightly to him. After they had heard everything Hermione pursed her lips in deep thought. "We need to stop this," she said determinedly. "It can't go on. And if the teachers aren't-"
"But they are!" Harry interrupted. "At least, now they are. McGonagall didn't know until recently-" and here there came a snort of disbelief from Kaleb Aokun, but Harry continued anyway, "-you know how preoccupied she's been, what with the war and everything." Several heads nodded.
"So what should we do?" piped up Dennis Creevey. There was silence.
"I guess..." said Dean slowly, glancing at Seamus, "always be with another person, never go anywhere alone." There were murmurs of agreement.
"And," said Harry darkly, "practice all the *painful* curses." Kaleb bounced when she heard this.
"Oooo! Dark curses!"
Dean led Seamus upstairs to the quiet of their bed; the babble of excited voices gradually dying away. Tonight, he'd let other people deal with the chaos.
For the hundredth time, Dean wished he'd been sooner. He held Seamus gently and whispered meaningless soothing noises. "So sorry," he muttered. "All my fault." Seamus sniffled.
"No it wasn't, Dean." The dark boy shook his head. He remembered too well what had happened that night.
"I think I'm gay," a nervous Seamus had said to him that night. "And I think I'm in lo-" "No you're not!" Dean had shouted at him. "You're not! That's just wrong! You're not!" he had screamed in denial, and Seamus' blue eyes had filled with tears and he had run away, out into the dark hallways, and that was how *they* had found him...
Dean utterly loathed himself. If it hadn't have been for his stupid fear and refusal of the truth, Seamus would be--- well, at least better than he was now. But the small teen cupped Dean's face in his hands.
"No Dean." he said deliberately. "*Not* your fault." and he kissed Dean softly.
"I love you." Dean whispered.
~*~
Later that night, Harry motioned Neville aside, then fidgeted, not knowing how to begin. "Listen, ah, Neville, I don't know if you were aware, but Malfoy's been, er, sleeping in our dorm..."
Neville nodded shyly.
"You do?" Harry looked surprised. "Oh. Well then, I was wondering if it would bother you if he came every night. He has a pass," he added hurriedly.
Neville smiled. "It's okay with me, Harry." The green-eyed teen grinned, relieved.
"Thanks, Neville!" and he left to find Hermione. He found her packing up her things in the common room, accompanied by her usual slew of books. "Need some help?" he offered as she struggled to balance her heavy load.
"Yeah." she said, and he plucked two heavy volumes from her grasp.
"'Advanced Transfiguration- Melding'?" he asked, reading the title. "What're you doing with this? Surely *you* don't need extra credit?" he teased. She smiled.

"No, come upstairs and I'll show you." he followed her up to the 6th year girls dorm, which looked exactly like his except there was one less bed... Harry stopped and blinked at what he saw. Kaleb was pushing her bed against Lavendar's, while Parvati and Lavendar were straining to push Lavendar's bed on the other side.

"A little help, Harry?" Kaleb grunted, so he set the books down and helped Kaleb shove the bed into place. Harry stepped back and viewed the interesting rearrangements the girls had made.
"Um, this may seem like a stupid question, but what are we doing?" Hermione gave an uncharacteristic giggle.
"Watch and you'll see," she said giddily, and rolled up her sleeves. Grasping her wand firmly, she glanced at a scroll filled with her precise notes, then began the spell. She was deep in concentration; her brow furrowed as she spoke the words carefully.
Slowly, slowly, Harry noticed a change in the beds. First, the red and gold comforters merged into one, then, underneath, the mattresses shifted together. Gradually, the posts united, and finally, the curtains.
Hermione set down her wand and collapsed onto the now-gigantic bed. Kaleb laughed and joined her, rolling around gleefully in the wide space. Lavendar and Parvati smiled at one another and sat down on the edge of their new bed, bouncing up and down slightly.
"That was really amazing, Hermione," Harry said, impressed, "but what is it for?" He saw Parvati roll her eyes, but to his surprise Lavendar answered him.
"We all decided to sleep in the same bed, because it's safer." she told him. Harry raised his eyebrows. "Hey! Could you do that to me and Ron's bed?" The girls looked at him strangely, but Hermione nodded.
"Sure." she said. "Let's go."
Well, once Dean and Seamus found out what Hermione was up to, they wanted a bigger bed, too. So now, Neville's was the only normal sized bed left in the dormitory. Harry lay on his new-an-improved bed, smirking as he imagined Draco's reaction. He was pretty sure it would be a pleasurable one, for the both of them...
He was right.

~*~
That evening, Neville retreated to one of the greenhouses and lost himself in the aroma of rich dark earth. He sat and pondered recent events, staring contemplatively as the night thickened around him. It was so peaceful here, with the quiet sounds of growing things whispering soothingly. He sighed heavily, and his eyelids fluttered. Soon the small boy was sleeping, for once not snoring, in the calm green enveloping him.
Later, he woke with a start. It was completely dark and he couldn't see. He rubbed his eyes and tried to discern from the still air what had awakened him, all the while berating himself for falling asleep. Then he froze. The door at one end of the greenhouse creaked open, and Neville heard the rustling of cloth...
His mouth suddenly became as dry as a desert. He got up and tried to silently wend his way to the opposite door. Unfortunately, as was common knowledge, Neville was rather clumsy, and though he didn't knock anything over, he did manage to bump into a potted plant. He stopped, ears straining for any sound.
Muted whispers, like the breath of death, floated to his ears, and now his muscles were leaden, he couldn't get his body to *move*, he could only stand there, hoping, praying...
And the he saw a wand light illuminating a shadowed hood, and snapped into action, scrambling over to the door and flinging it open. He ran as fast as he could toward home, Gryffindor Tower, the sound of pursuit echoing in his ears. His side ached and he sucked in air; he wasn't the fittest boy around but he forced himself to keep going. He pounded through he corridors, not paying attention to where he was going, and for once his instinct didn't fail him; he was almost there and almost out of strength, but he'd be all right once he got in -he could hear them getting closer- he felt like he was about to throw up, but then -Thank God!- the Fat Lady came into view and with his last breath he gasped the password-
It had been changed.
Neville sank to the floor, weakly beating his fists against the portrait. He was aware that they were behind him, and he opened his mouth to scream- and a cold hand clamped across it and pulled him roughly up. A group formed around him, gasping for breath yet still sinister.
One glanced around and jerked his head down the corridor, and they began to quietly move away from home from safety from the light. Neville tried to wriggle out of his captor's grasp, but he was too tired, and the grip too strong. He was dragged halfway across the school, pushed, pummeled and pinched in private places and by the time they had stopped in an abandoned room he was shaking uncontrollably, lower lip trembling and half-dumb with fear.
he pushed him into the center of the room, where he stood, just barely, trembling from head to toe and feeling naked under their piercing gazes. There was silence, which only increased his fear. Then somebody laughed. //Laughter shouldn't sound like that.// Neville thought numbly. Someone stepped forward and removed the hood. Through the flickering candlelight Neville could see that it was a Slytherin named Evan. A hushed whisper flitted through the huddled group, and Neville suddenly knew that Evan had done something unusual by revealing himself. Evan turned to the group. He was a well built 7th year, muscular and stocky. He radiated calm, and barely contained *power*. He spoke to his group, the group he had founded, and the people he had all initiated. Personally.
"Tonight," he said softly, "if you want to participate, you must remove your hood. We will not hide our identities from this one." A few cloaked heads shook their heads disbelievingly. Evan's face hardened. "Then go, there is nothing here for you tonight." A large portion of the group broke away and left the room. To those that remained, Evan regarded closely. He nodded briskly. "Outside." he commanded. "You'll have your fun later." The few retreated, and Evan turned to Neville. He walked towards him, his power now tangibly radiating from him. Neville gasped and backed away. A small smile flickered across Evan's face. From underneath his black robes a length of silken rope appeared. He stretched it between his two hands, fingers entwining as he approached the terrified Gryffindor. Neville's eyes flicked back and forth, calculating. This was his last chance. He lunged to the left... directly into Evan's solid bulk. Strong hands grasped his arms as he tried to get *away*, but too late, he was caught, the door was magically locked anyway, and Evan forced the 16-year-old to look at him. Wide, frightened sea-green eyes looked up into his amber flecked ones. Time stood still, each heartbeat fulfilling an eternity. Abruptly, the Slytherin curved down and kissed Neville harshly, his teeth nipping savagely at the tender flesh, violating and probing, and heat and fear exploded inside Neville, fusing to the point where he wanted to die. Caught in Evan's iron grip, his first kiss would forever lie with Evan, a twisted perversion of what a first kiss should be.
"Sweet..." the Slytherin whispered, "I knew you would be. My little Neville, do you know how long I have waited for this night? To have you?" Sure fingers pinched his cheeks. "So innocent, and so alone. No one will miss you, will they love? No one will notice you're not there." His hands smoothly unhooked Neville's robes, and the frightened boy tried to twist out of his grasp. Evan held him easily, though. "Don't make this difficult, love," he warned.
"Let me go!" Neville shouted defiantly, surprising himself. Evan slammed him up against the wall. Neville cried out in pain and fear.
"Shhh." he said dangerously "Now don't upset me." Neville sniffled. He practically tore off Neville's robe and laid it on the floor. He inspected his prisoner carefully, then from a pocket a knife appeared. Neville froze, his gaze focused on the blade that was coming nearer and nearer to his skin. Evan smiled ferally and slit Neville's white t-shirt down the middle. He shivered as he felt the blade press against his belly. Evan threw the ruined shirt aside and stepped in very close. He kissed Neville again, while taking his hands and tying them tightly together with the bit of rope, then placed Neville's bound wrists around his own neck. Swinging him around, he laid them both down on Neville's discarded robes. Kisses teeth bite pain fearfearfear, tears streaming down his face, scratches, blood welling, sweat and arousal, Evan's hands undoing his belt. Naked as amber eyes swept across his tortured body. Clothing disappearing from Evan's body as well, now dread, and Neville shut his eyes and flinched when he felt cool, vicious fingers on his skin.
"Open your eyes." he commanded, but Neville did not. A searing pain as he was slapped, then, "Look at me, dammit!" Neville was sobbing now, and strong legs straddled him. "You will *not* deny me this!" and Neville had to open his eyes and he gazed, petrified, into pools of insanity, blood-shot crazy helpmehelpme ~pain~ sizzled through him, harsh hands and something else, invasive, and all that was left was the agony the burn...

~*~
Seamus and Dean found him outside the portrait hole early that morning, when they finally missed him. He was curled up in a little ball, shivering uncontrollably, and he wouldn't speak to anyone. In one fist there was a scrap of parchment. Seamus pried it from his fingers. Upon reading it, his face turned white. He showed it to Dean.
"Take him to Madam Pomfrey," he told Seamus. "I'm going to find Malfoy."
The parchment simply said, Harry Potter.


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