"Morning, Mrs Weasley," Harry said, sliding into his usual seat and grabbing a slice of toast from the rack in the centre of the table. Hermione and Ron sat down opposite him. "Has Hedwig come back?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot to say. She got back this morning. But she didn't have a letter, I'm afraid. She's in Erol's cage just now, having some food."

"She didn't bring a letter?" Harry asked sharply, his toast stopping halfway to his mouth.

"Not that I could see, dear," Mrs Weasley looked at him closely. "Are you alright?"

Harry shared a look with Hermione. "I'm fine, thanks," putting down his uneaten toast, he stood up. "I'll just go and see her, if that's okay,"

"Of course, dear!" Mrs Weasley laughed, looking bemused. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Harry didn't reply and walked briskly to the living room where Erol and Hedwig were eating owl pellets, no letter in sight.

"Nothing?" Asked Hermione, following him into the room. Harry shook his head. "Maybe it's just a mistake. I mean, Hedwig might have dropped it or-"

"It isn't that," Harry answered flatly. "It's something to do with what I felt through the ring the other day. Something's happened to him."

Hermione bit her lip. "You haven't felt anything since-"

"No." Harry looked at the gold ring on his hand. "Nothing."

"Do you think Draco might have taken it off?"

"I don't know, Hermione." Harry snapped. "Let's just go eat breakfast."

Ron looked at them both, bemused, as they re-entered the dining room.

"What was that about?"

"I was just checking that Harry was okay, which he is," Hermione said lightly, and Ron, happy with the half-truth, shrugged and continued to attack his scrambled eggs.

As he forced himself to eat, Harry remembered the drowning sense of despair that had come over him several days previously, coming and going rapidly, and clearly emanating from the golden ring he shared with Draco. His blood boiled when he imagined what might be happening, with Draco forced to live with Voldemort, being tortured by his own father, unable to escape his own personal hell.

0o0o

"So that's books done, and stationary replaced," Hermione listed as they walked through the crowded Diagon Ally, "how about robes next? Madam Malkin's is just along there,"

The three were school-shopping, as were many of the other teenagers in the crowded cobbled street. Harry and Ron agreed and together they walked into the Robe Emporium, a bell chiming as they entered. Harry glanced around for Madam Malkin and felt as though his heart stopped. She was measuring a tall, blonde boy for robes, and waved for them to take a seat and wait. Harry didn't move. He stared at Draco, taking in the thin arms, the pallid skin, and the hollow cheeks, and felt something contract inside him.

"C'mon, Harry," Ron appeared at his side, "Malfoy's gotta get his new dress fitted nicely."

Draco looked up from where he had been pointedly staring at the floor, and for the first time, their eyes met. Harry flinched. Something in Draco's eyes had changed. For a moment it reminded Harry of the time, so long ago, when Draco had insulted his mother. Then, it had been like an emotionless stone mask was covering his face. But this was different. Draco looked, not emotionless, but hopeless. The bright grey eyes that Harry had fallen in love with had lost their shine, and now looked tired, like clouds hanging heavy with rain, or the thick fog that rolls in from the sea.

"Go on, Potter," A shadow of a sneer crossed Draco's pallid face, and he jerked his head towards Hermione. "The way you're staring, you'd think you were in love with me or something."

Harry felt as though he'd been struck across the face. Ron snorted. "How could anyone love you, Malfoy?"

Grabbing Harry by the arm, he pulled him away, and soon Harry found himself sitting down with Hermione, who discreetly squeezed his hand, with Ron relaxing into the seat next to him.

"Just let the prick finish up, then we'll get ours," Ron said, undisturbed by the exchange they'd just had. Harry didn't reply. Instead, he watched as Draco batted away Madam Malkin's hand when she attempted to roll up his sleeve. A sick feeling crept into his stomach.

As Madam Malkin finished up, Draco stepped off the stool used for measuring people, and without a word, left the shop. Madam Malkin shook her head. "Strange boy," they heard her say to herself.

Ron needed several inches added to his robes, while Harry and Hermione found they could just buy new versions of the same sizes, as they hadn't grown. Soon they were leaving the shop once more, this time heading for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, excited to see the twins' shop for the first time. If Harry hadn't been preoccupied with Draco, he would have been bowled over by the joke shop. It was fantastic, chock full of various magical trinkets, charmed sweets, and enchanted robes, plus more objects that Harry's couldn't even categorise. The twins appeared, identical grins on their faces.

"Hello, ducklings," Fred beamed.

"What do you think of our humble trickery shop?" Continued George.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all confirmed that it was amazing, and the twins' smiles widened.

"Do feel free to browse," George said loftily.

"But be warned," Said Fred.

"The Pygmy Puffs have-"

"-been known to bite."

Harry gave a half-hearted smile, and turned to look around the shop. However, it was something outside the window that caught his eyes. Ron, following his gaze, said;

"Where's that little blonde twit going, d'you reckon?"

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Malfoy's looking shifty. Well, shiftier than usual."

"Isn't that the way to Nocturn Alley?" She asked, joining them at the window.

"Yeah, it is," Ron agreed, sounding a little excited. "Shall we follow him?"

Harry was already pulling the cloak out of his bag. "Let's go," He said, heading towards the door.

Hermione had been correct- Draco was going to Nocturn Alley. They watched him glance around, his eyes passing right over where they stood hidden by the cloak, before disappearing into a badly lit shop.

"That's Borgin and Burkes'," Harry exclaimed, and continued in answer to their questioning glances, "It's where I came out when I first used the floo network and didn't say the words right."

"Oh, I remember that!" Ron said, "Hagrid found you."

"Come on, then. Let's get to the window before he finishes," Hermione said, pulling them forward.

Draco was clearly annoyed with Borgin, the wirey, stooped man behind the counter. They leant in closer, pressing against the glass. They could only hear snatches of the conversation.

"...But... fix it? When?...Don't...father..."

"Who bets he just said 'my father will hear about this'?" Ron laughed, but the other two shushed him fiercely, still listening closely. Draco seemed to get more and more frustrated, gesturing towards a section of the shop, and then, to Harry's shock, he pulled up his sleeve and showed something on his arm to Borgin, who visibly flinched. Finally, Draco placed a small drawstring bag on the table, most likely containing money, and departed, looking irritated. He almost collided with them as he strode away.

"So he wants something fixed," Hermione thought aloud. "You know what? I think I'll go in and see if I can find out what it is."

"You sure?" Ron asked, looked doubtful. "I mean, a place like that..."

"I'll be fine," Hermione shrugged, and ducked out from the cloak. Harry and Ron watched her enter the shop, and instead of approaching Borgin, who watched her suspiciously, look around the area of the shop Draco had gestured to. Borgin approached her, and after barely a moment of talking, Hermione left, walking right past Harry and Ron, and only stopping when they got back to Diagon Alley.

"Why'd you leave us behind?" Ron asked as they caught up with her, removing the cloak.

"It would have looked a bit suspicious if I disappeared, wouldn't it?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing. The stuff in that area was a necklace, a very old cabinet, and a really horrible glass eye," Hermione shuddered. "Plus some other stuff that I didn't recognise. I'm not sure what it is he was talking about, Borgin certainly didn't tell me."

Disheartened, they made their way back to the joke shop. Harry voiced the terrible nagging worry that was eating at him.

"Did you see how he showed his arm to Borgin?"

Hermione looked at him appeasingly. "Harry, I don't-"

"What if-" Harry continued, not really wanting to say aloud what he was thinking. "What if he's been... marked."

"Marked?!" Ron exclaimed, lowering his voice when the other two shushed him. "You mean as in, the Dark Mark?"

Harry nodded, and Hermione shook her head.

"Why would You-Know-Who want a kid in his circle?" She asked, pointedly. "Only a very select few are ever marked."

"Still," Ron said darkly, "I wouldn't put it past the slimy git."

"It won't be true," Hermione persisted, "just trust me. It'll be something else."

Harry decided to drop it. But a worm of doubt had been planted, and it ate away at his mind.

0o0o

"Harry?"

Harry looked up from the fire to see Ginny standing in the doorway, wearing her pyjamas. Quickly he cleared his mind and put on a smile.

"Hey. You're up late."

"So are you," She smiled, coming to sit cross legged with him by the fire, both leaning against the sofa facing the warmth. "Can't sleep?"

Harry shook his head. "You?"

"Same thing, I guess. I usually come down here when I can't sleep. Looking at the fire really makes me feel calm."

He nodded, watching the embers glowing softly. Neither spoke.

"What's up?" Ginny asked finally.

"Huh?"

"Something's wrong, Harry. Anyone could see that."

Harry sighed. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

Ginny looked at him, her brown eyes warm in the firelight. "Maybe I can help? You don't have to tell me what's going on, but you could give me an idea of the problem."

Harry thought about it. "I'm worried that someone I care about is being hurt, and I can't do anything to stop it."

"I see." She thought for a moment. "When's the next time you'll see them?"

"When we go back to school."

"You can't send them a letter?"

"One: they're not replying; two: I'm scared it might make it worse."

"Right." Ginny was silent momentarily. "That is a tough problem."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Tell me about it."

"At least it's not too long before school starts again. Only two weeks."

"I guess."

Again, they were both silent until, eventually, Ginny ventured;

"You know, they say a trouble shared is a trouble halved. Even if it's not me you talk to, you should talk to someone."

Harry nodded, continuing to stare at the fire.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with things like this so much. It's not fair."

Harry looked at her, taking in her worried, kind eyes and hair that seemed on fire in the red light of the flames, and put an arm around her. She leant her head against his shoulder and, together, they gazed at the fire as it slowly burnt itself out.