FicWad

Author's Note: You guys are awesome, really! Thank you for reading and all of you who reviewed! I absolutely love reading them. They spur me to continue this rather strange fic. It's going to get highly AU in the upcoming chapters - I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his wonderful world are owned by JK Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. If it belonged to me, Voldemort (happy belated birthday, Riddle!) would've been less of an idiot.

Duality: Breaking Point

oOo

Harry groaned when the light hit him full in the face through the hangings surrounding his four poster bed. The terrible knocking noise cut through the good dream he was having and he mumbled something to Dean to go answer it, but then he realized that it was much too silent in the dorm for anyone to be up. When he pulled back the curtain, his eyebrows rose and he glanced at the clock.

No wonder it was silent, he slept through half of breakfast. Why didn't Ron wake him? Did Ron even come back last night after Slughorn's party? Usually Harry was the one that had to get Ron out of bed, and he didn't remember hearing Ron come back last night.

The knocking at his door persisted and Harry called, "Alright, keep your pants on," as he pulled on the nearest pair of clean looking trousers.

Daphne was outside his door, noticeably hesitant, a cigarette dangling from her fingertips and smoke trickling from her mouth. Harry froze, swallowing thickly. He could actually feel the residual magic surrounding her. It resonated throughout the air, heavy and tingling so fiercely that it lifted the hair off the back of his neck.

"Jesus, I can't do this…" she muttered, turning away from him to head back down the stairs, but Harry reached out, catching her shoulder.

"Wait." He appraised her slowly. Her robe was covered in mud and there were leaves in her hair… His eyes lingered over the – blood? - spattered up the side of her neck.

Harry pulled her inside his dorm, shutting the door behind her. "What happened?"

Daphne drew in a deep breath, her eyes hardening as she glanced around his dormitory. "An oversight," she finally admitted in a preoccupied tone. "And whole bunch of shit that you wouldn't understand."

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow. "Try me."

Staring up at him with her tired eyes, she took a drag off her cigarette. She hummed contemplatively, as if she were considering him, and then she asked, "Mind if I use your shower?"

Harry blinked at the sudden change of topic, his brows furrowed. "Only if you tell me what happened."

"You know I can't do that, Harry," Daphne said with a sigh, pulling off her cloak and pushing past him toward the bathroom, limping slightly. She threw the cloak onto his bed and – with a nearly stifled groan – stripped off her shirt, which looked as if it were soaked with blood. Following her, Harry reached down to pick the shirt up as she stripped off her jeans and pants.

His eyes widened. Yeah, that was definitely blood. It was wet and cold in his hands and he dropped it back to the floor.

He had meant to block the bathroom door, but he wasn't so sure if that was a good idea now. Daphne stood naked in the bathroom, busying herself with the taps. He could faintly see a long cut that ran along her ribs, surrounded by streaks of coagulated blood. Red blotchy bruises were starting to form up her back. She took a drag off her cigarette and stepped into the shower, roughly pulling the curtain across the rail before he could assess any more damage.

"Seriously, Daph. What happened? Are you okay?"

Her arm poked out of the shower, reaching for her wand that was sitting on the back of the toilet. She conjured an ashtray to place her fag in. "I haven't got it under control yet."

Well at least that confirmed that this, indeed, involved Malfoy. What else did he expect? So many possibilities of what could have happened were running through his mind. She must have gone through with whatever plan she had set up because of the mess. And...

Wait. If she didn't have it under control yet, did that mean that she didn't succeed? The question was on the tip of his tongue but he held back, a bit more worried about her than the sodding plan at the moment. Sometimes he wished he didn't care so much. He gulped down his irritation. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing?" he tried to sound calm, but it came out a bit irritable.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You're not fine! You're-"

Bleeding profusely, from the looks of it.

"Blaise already took care of it," she interrupted sharply. "It's not as bad as it looks – I've definitely had worse."

Harry took a step into the bathroom and ran a hand through his messy bed hair as he took a seat on the edge of the sink. He wasn't sure if he believed her. "And you're sure you can't tell me what happened," he said bitterly.

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Nope." Daphne's arm poked out, reaching for her cigarette.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So has Malfoy been sufficiently arrested?"

She gave him a meaningful look, peering around the shower curtain, as if to say, 'Are you honestly asking me that?' and Harry assumed that the look meant 'yes', but that wasn't a certainty. There was quite a lot of blood everywhere...

Did Malfoy attack her?

Well… if her plan was to get Malfoy arrested by having him attack her, she'd probably be at the Ministry about now, filling out a complaint or a statement, right? Plus, that was a reckless plan. Daphne wouldn't do that.

But then Nott's voice rang through his ears: If she didn't like you… she'd probably ensure that you're premature death is very inevitable and possibly speed up the process. If Malfoy was dead, Harry didn't consider it a horrible loss. The inherently good portion of his heart grimaced. It would explain a few things if the plan was to kill Malfoy.

Like the amount of blood and Daphne's current state.

But Daphne wouldn't kill anyone, would she? She didn't seem like she intended to kill Malfoy, what with the Scrying Concoction and whatever crazy Azkaban-inducing plan she had set up for the ferrety Slytherin boy.

"Could I borrow one of your shirts?" Daphne called from the shower.

"Yeah…" Harry murmured, his thoughts racing as he jumped down from the sink to go dig in his trunk for something for her to wear.

It didn't take her long to follow him, dripping water all over the floor, wrapped in a crimson towel. Her limping was much less pronounced. She picked up her jeans and shirt and tossed them into the fireplace with her dead fag. Harry's eyebrows rose and she shrugged, waving her wand and muttering a drying spell. She pointed her wand at her cloak and all the caked-on mud and blood flaked off, disappearing into thin air.

Harry bit his cheek contemplatively. Not all of that blood could have possibly come from her alone…

"Whose blood was that?" he asked carefully.

"A little of everyone's," Daphne casually replied, taking his offered shirt and throwing it on, just as he caught a glimpse of the deep cut along her side that was still very raw. The shirt was too big for her width-wise, but the height was almost perfect, barely covering her arse. Harry's eyes swept over her before he tore his gaze away.

Sure, she looked really good in his clothes – however, now was not the time!

There was an incredibly pregnant pause where neither of them looked at each other. Daphne played with the hem of the shirt. "Thanks," she said in a low voice that sounded like she was thanking him for much more than the shirt. "And I'm sorry that I can't tell you anything."

Harry shrugged and looked away from her once more, trying to ignore the painful disdain that was starting to gouge a hole in his chest. The way she was staring at him made him want to shake the truth out of her and trust her all at the same time. It was exasperating – and it hurt more than he cared to admit.

"Harry?"

"What?" he asked in a short breath. Didn't her empty apologies mean that she was leaving soon?

"I will tell you everything when I can. I don't make promises that I can't keep. You can at least trust that, even if you don't trust me with anything else."

He was so stupid in the beginning, thinking he couldn't be hurt by a no-strings-attached relationship. It was his downfall that he simply cared too much about so many people who crossed his path.

Daphne threw him a small sheepish smile and leaned up to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. "I suppose I should leave you to think about it…" she said, moving away from him.

Quickly, Harry caught her arm and pulled her back around toward him, a sudden burst of anger nipping at the backs of his teeth. He couldn't just let her leave like that – that was giving her way too much power and he was sick of it. He needed to take the control back.

Why didn't she just leave after her empty apologies like usual?

"You know what?" Harry said lowly. "I'm done with this. No more promises. No more… evasion." He paused, letting out a terse breath. "You need to tell me."

Daphne twisted her arm from his grasp and he could see her jaw clench. Her eyes narrowed. "You never get it, do you?"

"Frankly? No." Harry shook his head. "And I don't get all this evasion bullshit either, Daph! What have I ever done to make you not trust me?"

Daphne stared at him, her mouth open as if she was going to say something, but it shut and he could see her mind working behind her eyes. She shook her head.

"Nothing…" she conceded through a frustrated sigh, not looking him straight in the eye. "Absolutely nothing."

"Exactly!" Harry agreed with a brusque nod. "So what's the real reason as to why you won't tell me what's going on? I started this whole thing in the first place! It's only fair that I should know!"

"Jesus… It's not just you! I'm not used to other people meddling in my plans!" Daphne countered, her eyes glaring daggers at him. "It's dangerous. There are so many consequences that I cannot foresee-"

Harry didn't let her get any further than that, rage filling that small little hole of hurt in his chest. "I'm not meddling in your plans so there wouldn't be ANY consequences! I only want to bloody help-"

"It would help if you'd just trust me!"

"I CAN'T!" Harry bellowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're the most untrustworthy person in the world! At this point, I've better chances of Voldemort killing me right now than you ever telling me about Malfoy!"

He wanted nothing more than to throw something at her – or anything – right about now. Consequences! Damn the consequences. His nails were digging into his palms, which was a vague attempt at preventing him from grabbing his textbooks off his bed. His arms twitched irritably.

Daphne crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips – blissfully silent for once.

Letting out a long breath that barely calmed him, Harry persisted, "Just tell me! Maybe then I'll trust you."

"It's not under-"

"Oh god, don't," Harry interrupted sharply. "'Don't say 'You haven't got it under control,'" he mocked. "I've heard it before – and I don't fucking care. I'm done with caring about what you think. And I'm done with letting you walk all over me."

"You're done?" Daphne raised an eyebrow. She seemed a bit taken aback by that. Harry wanted to smirk. "What a great luxury that must be! It's a bit too late for me."

"That's not my fault," Harry retorted. His veins still itched from the anger bubbling through him.

Daphne backed a few steps away from him, letting out a cruel breathy laugh. "Yeah. Well, since you're all good and done with all this," – she threw up her hands in an infuriated gesture – "it's safe to say that we're done as well," she said, her eyes flashing.

Harry sucked in a short silent breath.

And in the blink of an eye, the painful hole in his chest ripped back open, gaping larger than before.

It effectively dulled the anger and Daphne – stoic as ever – bent over to pick up her pants just as the door opened. Seamus paused indecisively half way through the frame while Daphne pulled her undergarments over her hips.

Unclenching his fists, Harry shifted on his feet, his eyes roving over both of them. His mind was irritatingly empty at the moment. Shocked.

We're done.

It echoed through his mind, over and over.

"Is this a bad time?" Seamus asked, glancing between the two.

'Yes' was just on the tip of his tongue until Daphne grabbed a wrinkled pair of jeans off the floor. "May I borrow these?" she asked in a stiff cordial tone, ignoring Seamus and quirking a brow toward Harry.

"Oi, those are mine!" Seamus exclaimed, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"May I?"

Silence settled between the three and, not waiting for his response, Daphne tugged Seamus' jeans over her legs, buttoning them. They hung rather low on her hips, but they fit just fine. Harry let out a sigh. He knew that he should say something, but he didn't know what exactly.

Get out, Seamus, so I can argue some more with my… ex-girlfriend? Or maybe, ignoring Seamus: We should talk about this before you leave.

Please stay…

Please leave… Please don't leave.

Why did he care?

"Yeah…" Seamus finally answered her with a nod. "They look better on you than they do me."

"Brilliant. Ta," Daphne muttered, going over to her cloak to pull out her silver case and her lighter. Aside from the unwavering stiffness around her eyes and lips, she made it look like the heated argument between them had never happened. Did he really mean so little to her that she could simply brush it all off like that?

Harry's heart clenched painfully.

"I'll get them back to you before we leave," she said, pausing for a second to light a fresh cigarette. "I take it that Harry told you and all? You don't seem very surprised." Daphne's brows rose expectantly as she looked at Seamus.

The Irish Gryffindor cleared his throat. "Somewhat," he said, looking over at Harry with a quirk of his lips. "Stupid git, in't he? Fittest bird here and he's not showing you off?"

Making a derisive sound in the back of his throat, Harry shook his head. But before he could say that they weren't together anymore – properly, and reluctantly, declaring it – Daphne interjected, "It's just sex, Finnegan. Not that you'd know much about that, hm?" She took several quick steps toward the door while Seamus scoffed. "I'll see you two around, I guess."

She was gone before Harry or Seamus could blink and Harry's brow creased in her wake, his fists clenching at his sides again. What the bloody hell did she mean by that?

She could have just said that it was over between them. But no, she had to go and… insinuate that… Merlin, that woman was so fucking frustrating, he could scream. What was she trying to do to him?

"You guys must get really kinky."

Harry looked over at Seamus, his brows furrowing deeper. "Why do you say that?" he asked, barely keeping his voice in check.

"Did she come here without clothes or were they fucked beyond repair in the process?"

Harry didn't dare glance over at the fireplace where Daphne's clothes currently sat, burning down to ash. Bloody Seamus… He wondered if it would be easier to tell him the truth or just go with Daphne's apparent cover story. Why she wanted to perpetuate that idea was beyond him. Harry ran an irritated hand through his hair.

"I told you. I don't kiss and tell," he muttered after a brief indecisive pause, moving over to his trunk to pack a bag for Christmas at Ron's before he went down the Great Hall to catch the end of breakfast. Even if his stomach was growling, his mind was resolutely elsewhere.

He thought back on the last half hour, going over everything. Harry sighed as he threw a pile of clothes, a stack of books on Legilimency and Dumbledore, and the Prince's book into his slightly expanded knapsack. He should have asked more questions instead of being so concerned over the bloody mess. But that would have been pointless. And he should have, at least, said something after she broke it off.

Stupid of him, just standing there like that.

However… now that he thought about it – really thought about it – they didn't have much together in the first place, did they? Dread filled his stomach and he swallowed thickly.

They didn't have much at all… No wonder it was so meaningless to her. It all was just sex. And Malfoy.

And the fact that he actually bloody cared about her…Still cared.

He really loathed himself for it. She obviously didn't care at all for him in return.

"Come on, mate, one of these days you're gonna have to tell me something."

"It's not going to happen, Seamus," Harry said absentmindedly.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Seamus mumbled, "Well that's rather unfair."

Harry simply rolled his eyes, desperately trying to push back all the pain and anger and swallow his feelings. He didn't know what else to do.

oOo

Harry got to breakfast just as many people started clearing out early. Ron looked as if he were about to fall asleep on top of his plate with the fork lazily dangling from his mouth and Harry was quite surprised to see that he made it to breakfast. Hermione, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found, which was weird. One would think that she'd enjoy annoying Ron in his current state, given their feud lately. Moving toward the Gryffindor table, Harry loudly took a seat across from Ron and slapped his hand down on the table.

"Ugh… you're an evil bastard, you know that?" Ron grumbled, glaring up at him.

"You shouldn't have drunk so much last night," Harry replied, filling his plate up with everything that was in front of him. "Have you seen Hermione this morning?"

"She left with Zabini," Ron muttered darkly, covering his eyes with his hands even though the sky above the great hall was clouded over and it wasn't that bright.

Harry didn't push the topic. Mulling it over in silence, he ate his eggs. It didn't make sense. Just a few days ago, Hermione was complaining about Zabini – now she was willingly spending time with him? What was it about Zabini that was so attractive to girls? Harry definitely had to have a word with her on the train about that, just to make sure she wasn't being coerced into it somehow. Or drugged. Zabini was decent at making potions.

He ignored all the thoughts of Daphne that tumbled in after that.

"Did you have a good time last night?" Harry asked, conversationally, distracting himself. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I dunno. I woke up in the Slytherin Common Room. I dunno how I got there – I've actually no idea whose clothes I'm wearing – but I've a feeling that it had something to do with Felicity Hardbroom."

Snorting with laughter into his eggs, Harry tried not to guffaw too much. Felicity Hardbroom was a Slytherin who was a year above them and, if he went by the rumours… She was basically a 'scarlet woman', for the lack of a more polite term. But now he could see that Ron did look more posh than usual – in an expensive looking white oxford and black trousers – even if he was terribly dishevelled and looked as if he was about to be sick.

"Did she… do anything to you?" Harry asked, after the amusement subsided.

"I don't remember. And whoever gave me that hangover potion is really terrible at brewing them. This fucking headache won't bloody well go away."

"At least you aren't vomiting all over the place," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah. I'm a little nauseous though," Ron muttered, shovelling bacon into his mouth and making an extreme effort to chew it. Only Ron would attempt plough through a mound of bacon and eggs while nauseated.

Shaking his head slightly in disbelief at that, Harry caught Malfoy entering the Great Hall out of the corner of his eye. He almost inhaled half a piece of bacon at the unexpected sight of the current bane of his existence. Not wanting to alert Ron, he kept the conversation going as he inconspicuously kept watch on the Slytherin boy.

"Did Daphne treat you well?" he asked and almost regretted it as his heart clenched. Malfoy always led to thoughts of Daphne, but he blamed the pang on the bits of bacon stuck in his oesophagus.

Clearing his throat, he pushed back his feelings while his mind whirled confusedly over Malfoy's presence. Daphne came to his dorm covered in blood and Malfoy was definitely still alive, looking very much unharmed. What the hell was she doing then? Did her plan really not succeed? However, he didn't know for certain that Malfoy was Malfoy. It could have been Goyle.

He discreetly tried to search his pockets for his map, finding nothing. Then he remembered that he packed it like a complete idiot. Merlin! The one time he actually needed the bloody Marauder's Map, he had to go and forget it!

"Yeah, she's not too bad," Ron replied, after he swallowed an entire fried egg whole. "I can see why you like her. I also think she was trying to..."

Staring at him expectantly, Harry encouraged him to continue, "Trying to...?" He tried not to look over at Malfoy full on, even though he wanted to. And he desperately wanted to go track down Daphne. The confusion, and the issue with not knowing, was going to eat him alive.

But no. He couldn't. That was over. He had to do something else about it. Maybe he could seek out Zabini? Nott? No… they'd side with Daphne.

Harry reigned in his thoughts, calming his emotions, and focused on Ron, who seemed to be panicking a little bit.

"I think she was trying to get someone to shag me," Ron muttered in a flustered whisper, his bloodshot eyes glancing around the virtually empty Gryffindor table. "Or something like that. I just remember her saying extremely nice… wicked, really – things about me… and pushing me over to talk with all these girls. And Hardbroom was there. And they laughed at my joke – in a good way. I don't remember which joke that was… I wish I did. Ugh, never let me drink that much ever again, Harry… it's horrible. And I think I threw up on Nott, or maybe I was dreaming that part. He didn't hit me."

Harry bit the inside of his lip and then shoved some food into his mouth to keep from grinning too widely and chortling. Yes. Ron was a good distraction. "Quite the night you had then," he responded.

When Harry looked up, he halted, accidentally catching Malfoy's eye and covering up his glance by reaching for whatever plate of food was in his eye line. Ugh, black pudding.

"It was weird, mate. Slytherins aren't supposed to be nice. They're nasty gits!"

"Not all of them are that bad, Ron," Harry replied offhandedly, barely even thinking about it.

Harry wondered if his map would reach him if he summoned it from his room. It was small enough that it could slip through the cracks under the doors, but what about the portrait? Would it get stuck there? And wouldn't someone try to grab it if it were flying past them?

It was too risky, Harry decided.

When Malfoy got up from his seat, Harry found himself making excuses to Ron and left breakfast, following the Slytherin boy. Once out of the Great Hall, Harry hid in a dark alcove and pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket. The familiar adrenaline rush sparked by instinct surged through is veins. It only took a few seconds to catch up with Malfoy.

Harry walked along behind him as silently as possible, not daring to get too close. He climbed the stairs on the tips of his toes and treaded carefully down the corridors. There was a sort of ominous feeling nagging at the back of his mind, but he didn't pay much attention to it – he was too focused on the task at hand. It was only when he realized that Malfoy was going into a girl's bathroom that Harry paused. Second floor – Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The place where to do illicit things because no one ever went into that bathroom. Harry grinned in anticipation and barely slipped through the bathroom door before it closed.

"Not bad," Harry heard Malfoy drawl before Harry rounded the corner only to stop dead in his tracks and raise his eyebrows.

There were two identical Malfoys, wearing identical clothing, standing across from each other. The one on the left was tugging at the collar of his robe. "Why couldn't you get Cornfoot to do this? He's much better than I am." That must have been the fake Malfoy.

"It's only for a few hours on the train and you won't have to do anything but sit there and read," Malfoy said impatiently, sneering.

"Fine," the fake Malfoy muttered, his shoulders slumping.

"Good," the real Malfoy said, a pleased smirk spreading across his face. He produced a small ring, which seemed to be made entirely of diamonds, from the pocket of his cloak and handed it to the fake Malfoy. "Put this on. It'll get you past Filch's secrecy sensors."

Harry gaped. That was how Malfoy snuck the necklace that cursed Katie Bell into Hogwarts! The ring! He wondered what other stuff Malfoy could have snuck into Hogwarts with that. The possibilities were endless and frightening.

The fake Malfoy slipped the ring onto his index finger and stared up at the real Malfoy. "How are you going to get to King's Cross?"

"I told you. You're not supposed to ask questions, Goyle."

"Oh is it part of your project for-"

"Yes," the real Malfoy interrupted, looking around the bathroom, as if he were searching for eavesdroppers. Little did he know, Harry was practically smirking under his invisibility cloak. "Now go on. I'll see you at Christmas."

"Yeah. Good luck," the fake Malfoy/Goyle said, walking out the bathroom door. Harry mashed himself against the wall to avoid getting anywhere near the Polyjuiced Slytherin boy.

Once Goyle was gone, the real Malfoy inspected his reflection in one of the mirrors and ran his fingers through his overly gelled hair. With a sigh, he turned around and started pacing across the bathroom floor, glancing at his watch occasionally. Harry observed Malfoy cautiously, quelling the moment of impulsiveness where he was almost convinced that it was a good idea to ask Malfoy what happened with Daphne. Malfoy was fifty times more likely to answer him though.

But maybe whatever Daphne was doing this morning didn't involve Malfoy directly. Maybe she spent her morning trying to get the Scrying Concoction set up. And if Malfoy was staying at the Malfoy Manor for Christmas hols, that couldn't have been a pleasant trip from what he had heard about the place. No wonder she was covered in blood.

He thought back to Malfoy's conversation with Snape last night. Malfoy must have had access to Bellatrix Lestrange if she taught him Occlumency – maybe she was hiding out at the Malfoy Manor? And if Daphne had ran into the deranged Death Eater while liberally painting every reflective surface of the Malfoy Manor with the Scrying Concoction… Harry shuddered and he was suddenly just happy that Daphne was still alive if what he was thinking was true.

His stupid clenching heart lodged itself into his throat and he pushed it back down, ignoring it and focusing on his train of thought.

Azkaban-inducing crimes… Breaking and entering the Malfoy Manor was probably one of them, given the state of the Ministry at the moment.

It wasn't long before Malfoy started to make his way out of the bathroom and Harry reacted on impulse, pulling his Invisibility cloak aside and waving his wand at the blonde Slytherin as he passed him.

"Incarcerous!"

Caught off guard by the sudden attack, Malfoy tumbled to the floor onto his side, struggling against the invisible ropes wrapped around him.

Letting out a deep breath, Harry folded his invisibility cloak and stuck it in his pocket, trying to think of where to start. What was he going to do now? Malfoy was staring at him, surprise clearly written all over his face, as Harry stalked toward him with his wand pointed toward the blonde Slytherin.

He had to be precise about this. Level headed. What would Nott do? Harry let his mind drift to his lessons, briefly running over them. First, he had to establish his objectives – the goals. He debated whether to ask Malfoy about Daphne or the Room of Requirement first. Having an answer for either would definitely be a desirable outcome.

Now, the approach… Harry's brows furrowed as he stared at the bound Slytherin boy, who looked back at him in confusion.

"Not gonna hex me, Potter?" Malfoy quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Harry crouched down next to him, a small smile playing about his lips. "No, I just need to ask you a few questions."

Malfoy snorted, but Harry paid it no mind.

"What are you doing in the Room of Requirement?"

"Why?" Malfoy's eyes flashed as if he were amused. "Jealous?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, his mind faintly drifting back to his last conversation with Malfoy. "Don't try to lie to me again," Harry said, smirking. "You're an easy read. Now, tell me what you're really doing in the Room of Requirement."

But Malfoy's amused stare didn't waver. "I don't see why I should tell you."

"You're in no situation to oppose me, Malfoy," Harry said, gesturing to Malfoy's current state. "I know you've been going to the Room of Requirement every spare moment you've got. And the fact that you have Goyle covering for you as much as possible was proven just now – on top of that…" Harry reached forward and lifted Malfoys left sleeve with some difficulty around the invisible ropes. Malfoy struggled ferociously, trying to squirm away, but Harry was determined to roll up the sleeve.

The Dark Mark stood out prominently against his pale skin, menacingly flickering up at him, and Harry couldn't fully keep the surprise off his face. Daphne and Nott definitely weren't lying about the Dark Mark… he had hoped that they were.

But who lies about a Dark Mark?

Slytherins, his mind supplied.

"I know that this has something to do with what you're up to in the Room of Requirement," Harry said finally, keeping his voice strong even though his accusation was more of a tentative guess than actual knowledge.

"I'll never tell you anything, Potter," Malfoy retorted, his mouth set in an angry line.

"We could always see what the Aurors have to say about this," Harry countered with a cool calculating glare. "They've been feeding Veritaserum to the interrogatees lately, you know. Sooner or later, you'll spill your secrets. Why not now?"

Malfoy's grey eyes stared up at him, solid and challenging as he wiggled around in his invisible bindings. "If you think that's gonna work, you're fooling yourself."

Harry's smirk widened when he thought of a new direction that he could take. "I always have Aurors accompanying me on the train. They'll be here in about an hour," he said, hoping it was Tonks and Kingsley that would be patrolling the train, just like at the beginning of the year.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, a haughty expression pulling at his features. "I'm still not going to say anything to you. Leave that for these 'Aurors' to decide."

Tilting his head, Harry hesitated, wondering why this wasn't working. It was a solid threat. In fact… it was one he could actually pull off. Why wasn't Malfoy caving in to it? Of course, Harry could always use a different tactic… Or come back to it later… There wasn't a lot of time before they had to leave and Malfoy's emotional state at the moment didn't seem too conducive for giving answers.

"Well, if you aren't going to answer that, then…" Harry paused, wondering how to go about what he had planned next. "What were you doing this morning?"

"Sleeping in," Malfoy answered, still squirming in his ropes. They weren't getting any looser, but Harry still kept his wand trained on him.

Maybe Daphne did go to the Malfoy Manor then… He couldn't discern if the Slytherin boy was lying. Harry's brows furrowed as he gazed over him, assessing. He didn't have a proper baseline for Malfoy's varied expressions – and Malfoy wasn't showing any of the common deceptive cues like he was last time.

"So you didn't see Daphne at all?" Harry pressed, raising an eyebrow. Maybe that would spark something.

Malfoy just furrowed his brows for a moment, and then a smirk tugged at his lips. "You are jealous, aren't you?" he drawled. "What if I did see Greengrass?"

Harry let out a tolerating sigh. That wasn't exactly the type of response that he wanted… Regardless, he pressed on. "Well, did you?"

But Malfoy didn't answer him. Harry noticed how Malfoy's right hand was clutched around his wand, which he must have somehow wiggled out of his pocket, a moment too late. With a short flick, the invisible ropes were gone and Malfoy raised a shield just before Harry's stunner impacted it. Scrambling to his feet, Malfoy shot back with spells Harry barely recognized.

Harry ducked and rolled to the side, springing to his feet and firing back at him as Malfoy's spells collided with the sinks behind him. Sharp shards of porcelain burst through the room, impacting Harry's shoulder, and water spewed everywhere, gushing over the floor. Harry let out a hiss as he felt one of the shards digging into his skin as Malfoy barely skidded around Harry's nonverbal Reducto, which ripped a large chunk in one of the stalls.

Headed for the exit, Malfoy threw a hex at him that shattered the lamp that was just over Harry's head and he had to raise his hand to cover himself from the glass that rained down. Harry swiftly followed Malfoy out the door, looking around the corridor with his wand raised, but Malfoy was nowhere to be found.

Slippery Slytherin bastard.

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain rippling through his shoulder where the piece of sink hit him, Harry cursed. Sparks angrily flew from the tip of his wand and he took off down the corridor. Malfoy would most likely head to the dungeons… but he also could have headed to the Room of Requirement. They were in opposite directions – Harry chose the former, his eyes searching for any sign of him.

How could Malfoy just disappear out of thin air like that? Did he have an invisibility cloak like Nott's?

A dark voice interrupted his thoughts: Maybe Nott let Malfoy borrow it.

No, Malfoy wouldn't have had time to don an invisibility cloak perfectly. Harry would know. Malfoy didn't have enough time to do even half that, so he had to be around there somewhere.

Before long, Harry reached the entrance to the Slytherin Common room and retraced his steps back up to Myrtle's bathroom, quickly passing by. Malfoy must have headed the other direction. He wouldn't know unless he got the map, which he really should have done in the first place.

On the bright side – now, Harry had plan. And it was probably much better than Daphne's plan – why didn't he think of it in the first place? Sending a letter to the Aurors was unreliable, but sending the Aurors after him in person… that was different. As soon as the train arrived, Harry would tell whoever was on watch duty that there was a Death Eater in the castle and Draco Malfoy would be knicked.

Sure, he didn't get to find out what Malfoy was doing in the Room of Requirement personally, but he'd probably find out from Tonks or Kingsley or one of the Order members sooner or later. It certainly solved all the Malfoy problems that had plagued him for the past couple months – he was done with it. Maybe Malfoy could even share a cell with his dear father in Azkaban.

Harry made his way up to his dormitory and pulled his map from his knapsack, searching for Malfoy and ignoring Dean and Seamus' banter. He scanned every floor over and over, not finding Malfoy's name at all and he knew that Malfoy didn't have enough time to leave the grounds (he couldn't possibly leave the grounds anyway, thanks to the wards). There was only one place where Malfoy could be and that was exactly where he was going to point the Aurors: The Room of Requirement.

Now let's just hope he stays in there for a while, Harry thought, glaring at the map.

oOo

"Mate, I think I'm in love with your girlfriend," Seamus said, barging into the compartment he was sharing with a dozing hung-over Ron. Hermione was unfortunately absent and spending entirely too much time with Zabini. Harry was sitting there anxiously, hoping that his tip to Tonks was successful. She left Kingsley to stay on the train, since the train still had to leave on time, and went after Malfoy after he had told them. He probably wouldn't know the outcome until he got to the Burrow, but he still couldn't help but feel anxious.

He did tell Daphne that he was done with it all and he meant it. It had to end – and it would, on his terms.

Harry was just about to get up and go look for Hermione to tell her the good news – also because the train was going to arrive at King's Cross soon – when Seamus ambled in.

"What?" Harry's brows furrowed, looking over at Ron but Seamus seemed to be addressing him.

Taking a seat next to the half-asleep ginger, Seamus answered with a swoop of his arm, "Greengrass! Or are you two not together? If that's the case-"

Merlin… someone always had to ruin a good moment for him, didn't he? Harry had only just washed his hands of the whole Malfoy thing, causing him to nearly forget this morning when Daphne broke it off with him like their relationship meant nothing at all. Ignoring the tender hole in his chest, Harry interrupted, disregarding Seamus' question, "What did she do?"

Why he kept going along with Daphne's farce was beyond him.

"She made a very public display of returning my jeans." Seamus' smile spread even further across his face. "And she kissed me."

Harry's stomach dropped. Had she seriously moved on that quickly?

"On the cheek, of course," Seamus continued and Harry almost wanted to punch the git, "but that has to mean something."

"No it doesn't," Harry retorted, rolling his eyes and not being able to hide his annoyance. "Basic diversion technique – lead the rumours in a different direction. People tend to believe what they see and make assumptions so she made it look like she spent the night with you when, in reality…" Harry trailed off cuttingly, both proud and appalled by how much he sounded like Nott. "Well, you were used, mate. Sorry."

And now he was just perpetuating the farce. Great. Though Seamus was getting on his nerves.

Seamus's shoulders slumped and his face morphed from elated to completely crestfallen in less than two seconds flat. "But I thought -"

"She's sort of a Slytherin. Don't take it personally," Harry said distractedly with a shrug that mildly made his shoulder injury twinge as he stood up. "Have you seen Hermione?"

Hermione would definitely take his mind off Daphne – hell, she might even be able to help with the situation. He faintly wondered if he should find Daphne as well… talk to her. But he wasn't even sure if he wanted to talk.

"Last I saw her, she was getting a drink from the trolley."

"Cool, thanks." Harry left the compartment with a quick wave and headed toward the snack trolley, peering into each compartment as he passed. People were bustling around, getting their luggage together and rushing off to say their parting 'Happy Christmases' to their friends. If only he could actually find his own friend. What had gotten into her? She barely said hello to them before leaving to find Zabini when they departed at Hogsmeade. He hadn't been able to get a word in before she rushed off.

Harry sighed when he entered what was commonly known as the 'Slytherin section' at the back of the train. He noticed fake Malfoy reading and being anti-social in the corner of one of the compartments – if he spotted Kingsley, he might as well tell him about Goyle as well. Harry had checked the Marauder's Map constantly in between Ron's bouts of wakefulness, finding no Draco Malfoy anywhere still. Tonks had disappeared off the map when he checked again a few hours through the train ride, and he hadn't seen either of them reappear

It could have been a good sign… or it could have been a bad sign. He tried to remain optimistic.

Harry paused as the announcement was made that they'd arrive at Kings Cross in five minutes. He had to find Hermione soon. She never left without saying goodbye, at least – or without spending some time with him, really. And she was going home with her parents as well, so he wouldn't see her for a week; that was if she decided to join them at the Burrow. Since she and Ron were fighting that was only a tentative maybe. What the bloody hell was she doing that was so important?

Just as he passed a dim compartment that had its curtain drawn and headed toward the baggage car, an arm shot out of the compartment door and pulled him in.

"Wha - Daphne?"

Harry twisted against the hold, but the grip was too strong to be Daphne – it tore at his wounded shoulder. His leg was caught in the curtain and it was pitch black inside the compartment – he could barely see more than an inch in front of him, as if someone had thrown up Peruvian instant darkness powder.

Stumbling over the curtain, his heart pounding, Harry whipped out his wand with his free hand. 'Expelliarmus' was halfway out his mouth before his wand was wrenched from his grip and he was thrown up against the side of the train, banging his head against a luggage rack. Pain erupted from the side of his skull, bleeding across his scalp and he blinked dazedly through the black haze that was just barely starting to settle.

Harry cursed, trying to pay no heed to the intense pain throbbing through his eyes, as he blindly swung his fists toward his attacker. His fists connected with something solid but his opponent was quick. The last thing he saw before the world went dark was a streak of bright red light, headed straight for his chest.

oOo

Author's Note: Thank you for reading and please review!