Lupin nodded. 'Of course. Are you looking forward to the wedding?'
Harry looked briefly surprised, then shrugged. 'I haven't thought about it, really. I've been so busy with classes and getting ready for NEWTS and…I haven't bought anything for Sirius and Narcissa yet.'
'Well, the shops in Hogsmeade should be staying open tomorrow night, shouldn't they?'
Harry blinked at him. 'Tomorrow?'
'Pub Crawl, Harry.'
'Oh! Right.' Harry nodded. 'Sure. I'll get something then.' He looked down at the gold pocket watch that glimmered on his wrist. As always, when Lupin saw that watch, his throat tightened. Standing there in the dim half-light, with his dark untidy head bent over the familiar watch, Harry could have been James. James, too, had fidgeted with his hands when he was nervous. James, too, had been proud of the watch he'd been given by the girl he loved. James had looked forward to their first Pub Crawl… 'I've got to go, Professor,' Harry said. 'I've got class.'
'Sure.' Lupin flicked his wand towards the door, and it swung open. Harry went out, and paused for a moment on the threshold.
'Will you be at the Pub Crawl, Professor?'
'I might stop by. Look, Harry, I…'
Harry looked at him with inquiring eyes. 'Yes?'
'I didn't want you to think I was angry with you. I was sharp with you earlier today, and I'm sorry. You were concerned about your friend and it does you credit. You've always been just like your father that way.'
Harry's eyes lit up and he flushed. 'Thanks, Professor.'
'It's just the truth.' Lupin shrugged. 'I've been thinking about your father lately. Wishing he could be at the wedding.'
'It's all right,' Harry said. 'You'll be there with me.' He shifted his rucksack higher on his shoulder and backed away from the door. 'Thanks for letting me use your office to talk to Sirius, Professor.'
Lupin nodded. His throat was still tight and he did not want to speak. He watched as Harry walked away, turned the corner, and was gone. Then he went back into his office and shut the door and sat down at his desk, looking into the fire. For the first time in a long time, he felt suddenly old.
Draco woke to a splintering pain in his head and the feeling that someone was sitting on his chest. He dragged his heavy eyelids up, and saw a stone-arched ceiling above him, white rising sheets on either side of his bed.
The infirmary.
He sat up slowly, and looked down at himself. Someone had dressed him in blue and white pinstripe pajamas, and there were blankets heaped on his bed. Huh. He wondered how he'd gotten here. He wondered who had brought him here, and who had dressed him. Obviously not somebody who understood that Malfoys did not wear flannel.
He closed his eyes, and cast his mind back to the last thing he remembered. He recalled Rhysenn screaming, himself pushing her away, the world turning upside down, silver inverting into black…
What had happened? What had injured him? He unbuttoned his pajama top and shrugged it off, but his shoulder was tightly bandaged and offered no evidence. It was still slightly sore, and he winced when he touched the bandages, even lightly. Slowly, he leaned back against the pillows, his mind lost in recollection. He remembered a strange sound, and the sharp pain in his shoulder. A sound like…a bow and arrow? But who would go around shooting students with a bow and arrow? And why, when an Unforgivable Curse was so much quicker? He knew why his father used a bow and arrow: for the sport of it. But the memory made him shiver.
He covered his face with his hands, and rested there for a moment in the quiet darkness. His mind swam with questions, not the least of which was how long he had been out cold in the infirmary. Who had discovered him, and what had become of Rhysenn? He let his hands drop, and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts range outward, slowly, trying something he had done before only rarely — searching the castle with his mind, seeking another and a familiar presence, one bound to him even in sleep by an unbreakable cord of telepathy and magic.
He found him, like a pinpoint of light in the darkness. Harry. He could not, of course, ever tell what Harry was thinking precisely, but the shape of his thoughts was as familiar as the shape of his face. Harry, he whispered into the darkness. Harry, are you awake?
There was a moment of startled silence, and then Harry replied. I am. Are you all right? Where are you? Infirmary still?
Yes.
All right. Stay where you are, I'll be right there.
Trust me when I say I'm not going anywhere.
There was no response. Harry was probably distracted. Draco busied himself with shrugging his pajama top back on and buttoning it up, which hurt rather more than he would have liked it to. He could not still a small, cold fear…he remembered stories Lucius had told him of magical poisons…but no, he would surely be dead already if he had been poisoned.
There was a faint rattle, and the curtain around his bed was pulled back.
He sat up straight as Harry appeared, the Invisibility Cloak falling at his feet as he stepped forward. He had obviously dressed quickly: his green sweater was on inside-out and his hair was even more of a disaster than usual. 'Malfoy…' Harry said, his eyes wide behind his glasses. 'You look really pale.'
Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Thank you for that bulletin from the Department of the Obvious, Potter. Massive blood loss does often result in pallor, you know. Now are you going to sit down, or are you just going to stand there and goggle at me like a landed trout?'
Harry flung himself into the chair next to the bed, still staring at Draco.
'But you're okay? You're really…okay?'
