Harry Potter hadn't told either of his friends about his encounter with Malfoy in the Room of Requirement.

He knew that he should; after all, his two best friends had always been there for him. But somehow, he knew that they just wouldn't react in the way that he needed them to. They'd be skeptical and disbelieving, and tell him that perhaps he had just imagined the mark on his forearm.

Ron and Hermione had too much faith, even in the worst of people.

It was difficult keeping this a secret from them, though. The two of them had noticed that he was hiding something from them, and after five years of friendship, Harry expected as much. But neither had openly said anything to him, which he was grateful for.

It had been almost a week since his encounter with the Slytherin, only seeing Malfoy in the hallways in between classes and during potions. The blond had been avoiding eye contact anytime they were even close to each other, refusing to acknowledge the person who had almost spoiled his plan.

Harry was contemplating about what Malfoy could have been doing that day when Ron's voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, mate, what are you doing? You've been sitting there with that book in your lap for twenty minutes, but you haven't turned the page once."

Harry looked up to see the redhead raising a suspicious eyebrow in his direction.

He adjusted his glasses and cleared his thoughts. "Sorry, I guess I'm just distracted," he admitted.

One look at Ron's face made Harry regret that he had said anything. He knew that his friends' silence would only last so long before curiosity drove them to interrogate him.

"Listen, about that... you seem to be distracted a lot lately. Which is understandable, what with You-Know-Who being about and all that," he stated, causing Harry to flinch at his friend's bluntness, "but Hermione and I are worried. You weren't like this before a week ago. What's going on?"

Harry wracked his brain for a suitable lie in this situation and failed to grasp an idea, causing him to sigh out loud. He decided that it was best to be honest.

"Well--"

"Wait," Ron interrupted, standing up, "let me get Hermione from the library. She'll want to hear your excuse for acting as mad as Luna Lovegood, too."

After Ron left, Harry went over the different ways to tell his friends. "Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater?" Harry had made the claim before, and they would dismiss it before he could even get a chance to explain. "He had met Malfoy in the Room of Requirement, and they had tried to kill each other?" Perhaps that was a tad melodramatic.

Before he could come up with a good enough explanation, the portrait leading into the Gryffindor common room was swung open, revealing Ron, who dragged a very annoyed looking Hermione Granger in tow. She held a large book in her arms, and she was spitting the hair out of her mouth that had flown into her face due to Ron's insistent summoning.

"What on Earth are you doing Ronald?" she exclaimed, throwing her free hand in the air. "What was so important that you had to-- Oh, hello Harry," she said, eyes landing on the boy sitting in an armchair near the fireplace.

Harry smiled at her, genuinely glad she was there. Ron always listened to reason when it came from Hermione.

"Listen, Hermione, Harry's finally going to tell why he's been acting so weird," Ron explained, taking a seat on the couch across from Harry's chair and patting the cushion next to him, motioning for Hermione to sit.

Hermione looked surprised. "Is he really?" she asked, before turning back to Harry. "That's great, but Ron, why couldn't you explain this in the library?" she asked, raising a slightly annoyed eyebrow.

The freckled boy shrugged. "I didn't want to make Harry wait."

Harry sighed at his two best friend's bantering. "If you two don't mind, can I go ahead and explain?"

The pair's voices silence instantly, both looking back to Harry as if they had forgotten he was even in the room.

"Yes, of course, go ahead Harry," Hermione broke the silence, situating her body so she was facing him, with Ron following suit.

Harry cleared his throat before launching into his explanation. He had decided on a direct and rather blunt version of his story. "So, remember my suspicions about Malfoy being a Death Eater?" This earned him a groan from Ron, which Hermione quickly silenced by elbowing him in the ribs, but Harry didn't stop. He launched into a rendition of the events of one week before, not sugarcoating anything and leaving a stunned silence when he was done.

Ron winced whenever he said the Dark Lord's name, but other than that, the three sat motionless once Harry finished. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"You're sure it was the dark mark? It wasn't--"

"I'm positive. I swear I'm not making this up," Harry vowed.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other and locked eyes, exchanging a nonverbal conversation that Harry couldn't quite understand. It was Ron who spoke next.

"We believe you, Harry. I mean, how could we not? You're our best mate."

Harry sighed in relief. He wasn't sure what he would have done if his the pair hadn't believed him.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows with a concerned expression. "You should tell Professor Dumbledore, you know," she advised, tapping her foot on the ground anxiously. Harry shook his head, and Hermione looked resigned, as if she had anticipated this reaction. "Harry--"

"No, we can't. Draco made a good point in there. He said that Dumbledore wouldn't believe us without proof," Harry pointed out.

Hermione sighed. "I suppose that's true," she admitted.

Ron took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. "So what are we going to do?"

Harry was glad that he had said "we" rather than "you." He wasn't sure what he would have done if his friends had left him on his own to handle this. He had come to depend on Hermione's cleverness and Ron's loyalty.

He thought for a moment before speaking authoritatively. "Well, no one will take us seriously without evidence, yes? So we need to get proof that Draco really is working with Voldemort."

His two best friends nodded in agreement, before Hermione spoke. "We should probably discuss this some more in the morning. It's late," she said, pointing at the clock that hung above the portrait frame. Harry noticed the dark splotches under her eyes from tiredness, and then realized that his own eyelids were drooping as well.

"Sounds like a plan."

He and Ron left to go to their own dormitory in silence, neither having anything to say. Once inside, they both tried to walk as quietly as possible so as to not wake Dean or Seamus, or a snoring Neville. Harry clambered into his pajamas and then into bed, where he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

---

Meanwhile, however, across the castle, Draco laid in bed with his eyes wide open, drowsiness yet to come. Crabbe and Goyle were still in the common room, but he had wanted nothing to do with whatever those two thickheaded idiots were discussing. He had much more important things on his mind.

Namely Harry Potter.

There was no doubt in the Slytherin's mind that Harry had already told him little friends about their encounter. It almost made him feel envious of the bond and trust the trio shared, with them being able to share things as serious as the situation at hand. Not that it was as serious for them as it was for him, but it was admirable all the same.

What he would pay to have a friendship like that, though he would never admit it out loud.

Though it seems the opposite to anyone who knew him, Draco wasn't a bad person. He was raised to be hateful and prejudiced, and it showed. But now that he was older and could make his own decisions, he couldn't help but wish that he had made different ones.

After all, Harry Potter, his absolute nemesis, was also one of the people he admired most.

Sure, he was an abused orphan who lived under the constant threat of attack, but that only made him stronger. Words and taunts, much to younger Draco's dismay, seemingly had no impact on him, and he never let any agitation show. He attracted people like a magnet; they couldn't help but be drawn to his personality.

Even Draco himself, after several years, couldn't resist the pull.

Of course, no one could ever know about those feelings. He had, after all, made most of the people he called "friends" through a mutual hatred of Scarface. He couldn't let anyone know. Because if anyone knew, then word could get back to Potter.

No. Potter could never know that Draco was... jealous of him. Yes, that's the word. Jealous.

Because it absolutely, positively, could not be anything else. At all.

A sharp snore from Blaise Zabini in the next bunk jerked Draco out of his thoughts, which was good, because the blond hadn't liked where they were going. He didn't like thinking. Thinking just overcomplicated everything, adding depth to things that didn't have any.

He looked out of the window, the dormitories being the only rooms in the Slytherin common room that actually had any. One wall of every dormitory was open to the depths of the lake, with enchantments and spells to keep the tinted glass from shattering. A tentacle slid across the surface, drifting away just as soon as it had come.

Just like whatever Draco had been feeling for a certain Harry Potter did.