Hermione was sitting there with her mouth open in shock and Ron was just confused. There was something wrong with Harry, that much Ron had followed and it involved sex, which, coming from the headmaster's mouth, had been enough to shut down any other thought processes in his stunned mind.

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore," Ron said slowly, "but what is a Hecatemus?"

"A Hecatema is a witch," Hermione offered the explanation quickly and Ron had the distinct impression she needed to speak so her thoughts didn't stall like his, "who has the ability to sense the world in a totally different way to normal witches and wizards. They can see magic and they can feel the emotions of others as well as other natural forces. They're connected to everything in a far more direct way than most of us. Their powers don't come out until they find their soulmate and bond with them, because they need a ground or their powers will drive them mad. Hecatemus is the male conjugation. How can Harry be a Hecatemus, they don't exist?"

The explanation did help Ron to understand, but he still could not quite believe it, and the way Hermione's tone was a little strangled at the end told him that she was in a similar position.

"Professors Snape and McGonagall expressed a comparable opinion. I am aware of how strange this situation must be for you," the headmaster said with an understanding smile, "it was not easy for those members of staff who are involved either, but I can assure you, Harry is a Hecatemus and he is attempting to bond with someone. Do either of you know who?"

Ron shook his head straight away, as far as he knew Harry hadn't been seeing anyone since Briony. He turned to look at Hermione and realised that she had not been so fast to deny knowledge.

"I don't know who," his girlfriend said slowly, "but Harry has been sneaking off to meet someone."

"How do you ..." Ron felt a little betrayed that he was not privy to this information, but Hermione stopped him with a look.

Of course there were more important things to worry about now.

"I can't be certain," she continued hesitantly, "but I don't think he thought we'd approve. When I cornered him he told me he was in love, but he wouldn't tell me who with."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at the news and Ron just goggled, because he was completely at a loss as to how to react.

"He said something was coming," he said as he tried to figure out how he hadn't realised what was going on with Harry. "He told us at the beginning of term."

"From what I understand of Hecatemae," the headmaster said in a gentle tone, as if he realised the quandary Ron found himself in, "when the time is right to join with their soulmate they sense the truth. If Harry's unique position had been acknowledged when he was an infant, he would have been prepared to recognise the signs. It appears, however, that nature has succeeded even where the Wizarding community has failed. It remains to us to find the individual Harry has chosen, discretely and quickly."

Ron appreciated Dumbledore's unwavering serenity, but he couldn't help feeling that he had failed his best friend somehow. Why hadn't Harry told him what was going on? What had been so difficult that it prevented Harry from talking to his housemates?

"It's not a Gryffindor," Hermione said and Ron turned to look at her; she was wearing her puzzle solving expression. "The way Harry was acting I'd guess that either he was poaching someone else's girlfriend, or," she paused, "or he's in love with a Slytherin."

The fact that she'd even suggested such a thing sent Ron's thought's reeling; it was just not possible. Pinching someone else's girl was one thing, although not something he could actually imagine Harry doing, but a Slytherin? Harry would never in a million years go for one of those snakes.

"He wouldn't do either of those," Ron tried to refute Hermione's logic.

"Ron," Hermione said and took hold of his hand gently, "Harry was being driven by instincts. He didn't get to choose who he fell in love with; it's all about compatibility. What we have to do is find out who he's started to bond with and then support him no matter what."

She had him caught with her eyes and, for a second, Ron didn't know if he could live up to the expectations he saw there, but slowly he nodded. Harry was his best friend and this time, whatever Harry needed, he was going to get.

"How can we help, Professor?" Ron asked, resolute in his decision.

"Since it appears only Harry knows who his soulmate is," Dumbledore said, "we have no choice but to investigate the school population. There are plans to facilitate this activity, which you do not need to worry about, but I would ask that you both remain vigilant. Harry and his soulmate have instigated their bond and, although Harry succumbed to the changes in his body first, his chosen mate will feel drawn to him soon. If either of you see anything that may indicate one of your fellow students is falling under Harry's influence, please contact myself or one of the house heads. It is of the utmost importance that this remain secret or Harry will be placed in severe jeopardy."

Ron nodded immediately: for once he was not about to argue about anything. His best friend's life was in danger and a Gryffindor never let a friend down.

* * *

When Harry had collapsed in potions Draco had wanted to go to him more than anything in the world. Only years of Malfoy conditioning had stopped him blowing everything in those tense seconds. Since then things had gone from bad to worse.

It was like Harry was inside Draco's head. He could faintly feel the other boy's pain, and Draco was almost consumed by the need to seek him out. He had lost five house points in his afternoon lessons for not concentrating, and he had snapped at just about every member of his house until they'd stopped talking to him. He couldn't think and he could barely keep himself in his dorm.

Harry Potter was calling to him and Draco had very little will left to refuse the summons.

Sleep had been a commodity that Draco had found difficult to come by since the summer holidays and he had resorted to sleeping drafts. That was also the only reason he had managed to fall asleep the evening of Harry's collapse, but it didn't stop him waking up with a start in the small hours of the morning.

His whole being screamed at him that something was wrong and he dragged himself out of bed quickly. The feeling of Harry in his head was stronger, but it was also more confused and desperate. Draco didn't even pause to pull on a robe, consider if anyone might see him, or throw on any slippers; his resistance was all but gone and he ran out the door towards the common room.

Silk pyjamas were not the best things for keeping out the cold, but Draco barely registered that the night air was chilly as he moved through the Slytherin common room at speed. Nothing made it into his thoughts except closing the distance between himself and Harry and he exited into the hall quickly. He was so wrapped up in that one aim that he didn't even notice Professor Snape until he literally ran into him. The last vestiges of self-control were all that prevented him from pushing past his house master and running on.

"Mr Malfoy?" Snape sounded genuinely surprised. "What are you doing down here at this time of night?"

Snape looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow.

"And were you planning to spend the rest of the year with Madam Pomfrey because of pneumonia?" the question was less scathing than it could have been, but Draco was in no state to appreciate it.

He knew he probably looked like a blithering lunatic, but there was only one thing his mind could focus on, one thing his whole body was screaming at him, and it is what came out of his mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said desperately, as if it explained everything.

Professor Snape stood there for a moment just staring at him. Draco almost lost it and stepped round his housemaster, but he held himself in check by driving his fingernails into his palms. He could barely hold himself still as his soul demanded that he go to Harry. He was needed, he was loved, and he had to go.

Quite suddenly Draco found a cloak draped around his shoulders and Snape's arm protectively with it.

"I will take you," the head of Slytherin told him. "In the state you are in you will undoubtedly try and run through walls, which will do neither you, nor that wretched Gryffindor any good."

Draco had to admit that he was not thinking straight; in fact he was not sure he could even remember the way to the hospital wing in his current state of mind. Following an instinct was all well and good, but Professor Snape was most likely right and Draco did not relish the thought of being found in the morning having bashed his brains out on something solid. He accepted the help gratefully and let himself be led down the dark corridors, his beleaguered thoughts going blank.

"Severus, is that you?" Draco's mind clicked back in when he heard the headmaster's voice.

"Yes, Headmaster," the potions master replied and Draco hoped this would not be a long conversation.

He was close now, he could feel it, and he was fighting the desire to run the final distance.

"Who is that with you?" Dumbledore's question was light and curious.

The headmaster whispered a single word and the corridor filled with a dim glow. The old man did not look in the least surprised to see Draco and the headmaster smiled. Although he managed to prevent his body from following through, Draco's mind still pointed out the fastest route past Dumbledore, placing the headmaster distinctly in the 'not important' bracket in his brain.

"I believe we may have been looking in the wrong place," Professor Snape said.

"Ah yes, I see you are correct," Dumbledore said, voice annoyingly cheerful, as if meeting one of the teachers and a pupil in a hallway in the middle of the night was an everyday occurrence. "Thank you, Severus; I will take him from here. I will return your cloak once this is settled."

Draco saw his head of house nod smoothly out of the corner of his eye, and then it was Dumbledore's hands on his shoulders, not Snape's. The summons was so strong Draco was glad of the physical contact, because it was all that was keeping him from running blindly down the corridor. He was pretty sure both of the older wizards were completely aware of this.

"Come, My Boy," the headmaster said gently, "he is this way."

Part of Draco's mind was whispering that this could not be happening, that this was all a trick, but most of him was not listening. Most of him was, in fact, informing his whole being that this was the event his entire life had been leading up to. Funny, since only a few months previously, he had thought his whole existence was about destroying Harry Potter's life rather than becoming part of it.

Madam Pomfrey looked shocked when Dumbledore steered Draco towards a large oak door beside which she was sitting, but she climbed to her feet quickly and pulled her keys out of her pocket. Part of Draco wanted to throw himself at the obstacle and he shifted from foot to foot as Madam Pomfrey unlocked the door. He was almost completely out of control and he wanted into the room with every fibre of his being; he could barely contain himself. When the door opened he literally ran past the school nurse and did not come to a halt until he for standing only a few feet from the bed in the room.

There was nothing that mattered, nothing but Harry, and Draco felt his mind saturated by his lover. This was what was meant to be.

Now he was here the need to just reach out and touch Harry was almost overwhelming, but, for a moment, Draco stood there and looked. Harry's face was pale and the scar was livid on his forehead, and in unconsciousness he did not look seventeen. When The Boy Who Lived was awake there was an adult set to his face and his green eyes showed all the evil he had seen, but, relaxed as he was now, he reminded Draco more of the eleven year-old he had first seen all those years ago.

Only half aware of what he was doing, Draco shrugged the cloak off his shoulders and slowly walked the last pace to the bed. Harry Potter, the hero of the Wizarding world, looked so fragile in the big white bed and Draco knew there and then that he was the only thing that could bring back the life to the still figure. All the ideas that had been plaguing him all day seemed irrelevant and calmly he slowly climbed onto the bed on his knees. Kneeling beside Harry he reached out his hand. There was no doubt in Draco's mind, at that moment nothing would have stopped him, and he placed his fingers gently on Harry's arm.

Power flooded up his limb and with a sigh he felt his body succumb to it. His muscles gave way and he began to fall towards the mattress, but two pairs of hands caught him. The final thing Draco knew were those hands shifting him into a lying position beside Harry. With the last of his strength he curled close to his lover and let his mind float away."