𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄

Chapter 9

Harry was trying very hard to sleep, but it was not working. Everyone was very pleased that a cure had been found and he and Malfoy were no longer connected at the brain. Ron gave him a hug, Hermione wept a little into her dinner, still horrified that she hadn't managed to come up with the cure herself.

It was generally assumed that Snape had done it, of course. Especially by Snape himself. He was poncing around like a prize fighter, asking for seconds on everything, particularly dessert. He reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart and he felt a little sick to his stomach. Neither he nor Malfoy were tempted to explain how the cure had actually happened, and Harry hoped no one would examine the details too closely. Harry was completely embarrassed and shocked at himself. As Malfoy had said, thinking about it was one thing. Actually doing it was quite another. Harry pondered his fingernails and tried not to think about it in any case.

Everyone was pleased. Even Malfoy looked smug, and raised an eyebrow at him across the Great Hall. Harry felt tired and lonely and morose but couldn't really explain why and certainly didn't relish the idea of anyone noticing, least of all Malfoy. He smiled and laughed with Ron and put an arm around Hermione. "You did your best," he said. "How were you to know? No harm done." She sniffled and thanked him. When he looked up Malfoy had turned away.

Harry looked up at the ceiling. His bed felt very comfortable, he was sleepy, but his eyes were plastered open. There was an ache in his heart that he wasn't comfortable acknowledging. How could he miss all those ridiculous thoughts? The constant yammering? The teasing? Someone else witnessing thoughts he didn't even know he had?

He was shocked when he felt the mattress move a little and lean to the right. Someone had just crawled through his curtains and was sitting on his bed.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed in the dark, unable to mistake that shock of blond hair even in the near dark. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh, come on Potter." He pulled off his shoes and lay down next to Harry, looking up at the ceiling with him. "One can hardly live in someone's head for two days without discovering their house password."

"Oh. Right," Harry stammered. They stared at the ceiling together in a moment of tense silence.

"What are you doing here, then?" Harry whispered.

"You missed me," Malfoy whispered back.

Harry sat straight up and nearly screeched. "How did you know? Did the telepathy come back?"

Malfoy chuckled. "No." He pulled Harry down on top of him and kissed him. "I just guessed."

"Bastard."

"Mmph. I love it when I'm right. Wait, I'm always right."

"Testicular fortitude, my ass."

"That reminds me."

"Yes?"

"Something about you, me, a lubrication charm, an eagle feather, an McGonagall's desk..."