Harry's blood became ice in his veins, and George squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. "I'm sorry," the redhead murmured. "If I thought they were honest, I'd let it go, but… there's too much at stake for you to risk this. And honestly, some of the stuff Ron's said about you lately when you're not around, I find it hard to believe he's had a change of heart, even with Hermione pestering him."
"Right." Harry definitely didn't want to know what Ron had said. He wasn't sure he could take it. "Yeah. I… shit." He ran a hand through his hair, hating the way his eyes were starting to itch. He didn't even like Ron and Hermione that much anymore; why did it hurt so much to have his fears confirmed?
All of a sudden he was wrapped in a hug, his face pressed against George's chest. "You're still family," George promised, hand warm and solid on Harry's spine. "You've got us, and Bill and Charlie, and even Ginny. If Ron and Hermione are working for Dumbledore, you're better off without them."
That was true, but it didn't change the fact that they were the first friends Harry had made at Hogwarts; the only friends he'd had for a long time. To learn it was all a lie — even if it had been genuine once, it wasn't anymore — Harry couldn't help but feel his heart break just a little bit.
"Thanks for telling me, George," he said eventually, pulling away and trying to compose himself. "I'd love to say I'm surprised, but…" George shared his uneasy look. "I should go. They'll be wondering what's taking me so long." "If you need a rescue, you know the signal," George told him, not arguing when Harry left the dorm.
Hurrying up to his own dorm to grab the book he'd originally gone up for, Harry went back down to the common room with a smile on his face like nothing had happened. Hermione smiled back at him when he approached. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, fine," he lied breezily, cracking open the textbook. They would definitely get suspicious if he turned on them so quickly after agreeing to make friends again, but Harry was pretty sure they'd end up arguing within a week or two and he could break away then. It might be worth trying for a little longer, to give them something to take back to Dumbledore. Reassurance that Harry was still his old self — still under the Compulsion charm and blissfully unaware of anything to do with his inheritance or pureblood culture or the Wizengamot.
If they were going to spy on him, he might as well use it to his advantage.
.-.-.-.
Being friends with Ron again meant it was difficult for Harry to sneak out of the dorm to meet Draco, but he managed it eventually, filling the blond in on the situation as they sat together on the floor of the Transfiguration classroom, a Cushioning charm making the stone surprisingly comfortable. Harry's head was in Draco's lap, the Slytherin's narrow fingers running through his hair, a frown at his lips. "I don't like this," he said eventually. "It's hard enough keeping all your secrets in order when no one is looking at you, let alone with Weasley and Granger sniffing around."
"Someone's always looking at me," Harry insisted. "At least if I know they're looking I can direct them elsewhere." Barely a week into their renewed friendship and Ron and Hermione were already pestering him to open up to them; Ron in the guise of wanting gossip about who he was snogging, Hermione pretending to be concerned about Sirius. Harry wondered if Dumbledore was frustrated at not knowing where the dog animagus was hiding. "That doesn't mean you should let them look so closely."
"I'll feed them enough lies to get Dumbledore off my back, then wait for Ron to be a prick again and stop talking to them," Harry promised. He'd already managed to get them to believe that Sirius was hiding in Central America, hence the lack of frequent letters. He'd also told Hermione that the people at the Yule Ball were mostly Susan's friends, and he'd just pretended to hang out with them to keep her happy. Susan was fine with that misdirection, happy for Dumbledore to be aware that she was bridging the gaps between houses.
Draco looked doubtful, and Harry sat up enough to kiss the frown off his face, sneaking his tongue between the Slytherin's lips. Draco moaned softly, pulling Harry into his lap. "You're trying to distract me," he declared with an annoyed look. Harry smirked.
"I am, and it's working," he retorted knowingly, trailing a finger up Draco's bicep and across his chest, leaning in for another kiss. "Just relax, and trust me."
Draco's head tipped back against the stone wall, and Harry used the movement to kiss down his jaw to his throat, teasing the sensitive spot below his ear that made Draco grip him tighter and hiss with pleasure.
"You're too damn Slytherin for your own good sometimes," Draco muttered, his hand up the front of Harry's shirt. Harry's green eyes flashed playfully.
"That's why you like me so much." He nipped at Draco's earlobe, rocking forward in his lap a little. They still hadn't gone any further than rutting up against each other, but that was more than enough for Harry. He was getting pretty good at Cleaning charms these days.
Draco's mouth was too busy for him to argue back for several minutes after that, and by the time it was free he was too dazed to remember his objections. Harry was only a little bit smug about that, but it was enough to have Draco scowling at him when they said their goodbyes. "I still don't like it," the Slytherin insisted. Harry kissed him. "I know. I'm not thrilled about it either," he admitted. "But it won't be forever, and if I'm too resistant to them, Dumbledore will start asking questions." He doubted he'd have to wait long for one or the other to screw up and get angry with him. They didn't like the person he'd become, that much was abundantly clear. Hermione had been biting her tongue all week, and she would only last so long. If Ron didn't explode first, of course.
The pair eventually parted ways, and Harry slipped away towards Gryffindor under the cover of the invisibility cloak. His mind still on the feeling of Draco's soft skin under his fingertips, Harry hardly noticed the insistent push of magic against his own; the castle trying to warn him of something. It was only when he heard the faint thunk-thunk of Moody's wooden leg that he froze. Slowly, he tried to back around the corner, away from the source of the noise.
"Potter!"
He cursed under his breath. The invisibility cloak was useless against Moody's magical eye. "Professor Moody," he greeted, dropping the hood reluctantly. Moody limped closer, smirking at Harry in the dim light.
"Out for a little late night stroll, are we?"
"I don't sleep well sometimes," Harry replied evasively, hoping he didn't look as ravished as he felt. Draco was usually pretty good about not leaving marks, unlike Harry. They both knew Moody could see through glamour charms, and Harry didn't want questions in class. "I'm sorry, I'll go back up to my dorm."
"Don't worry about it, Potter," Moody waved him off. "What McGonagall doesn't know won't hurt her." Harry thought it interesting that he chose to mention the Gryffindor housemistress and not the headmaster. Was he implying Dumbledore already knew, or just that he was likely to tell the man? "Listen, while I've got you here; how are things going with that egg of yours?"
"Fine," Harry replied, eyes narrowing. "I'm not supposed to accept help from people. Especially not teachers." As if he hadn't been helped by Snape plenty already. But Moody didn't need to know that.
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