When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ XII:ii

In Your Broken Home

"Fall forward to even the score..."Funeral for a Friend

The first thing Harry did when he returned from the Valleys was to dump his bag in his bedroom and sneak off to the shack, eager to speak to Draco. He wasn't sure if or how he was going to tell him why he was so happy or what Draco would even say about it if he told him, but he was virtually walking on air and he just wanted to share it with someone. He felt like he understood what Draco has been trying to articulate, now. It made him feel like an even bigger bastard in ways he'd never contemplated before, knowing what it was Draco was missing out on, but he was genuinely so happy - he just wanted to tell the world, but failing that, his friends would do. Ron and Hermione had both gone home, though, which only left Draco...

He was still concentrating on things to say to him when he threw open the trap door and was met with the sight of two very anxious faces, one from the fire, the other from the redhead sitting in front of it.

"Oh. It's you..."

"Y-yeah, I just got back... Um... hi."

"Alright," the redhead nodded, turning back to the fire, but not saying anything. From what Harry could see of Draco, now partially obscured by the other boy's elbow, they were sharing a meaningful look.

Since when did you two know each other well enough to have a meaningful anything?

Inexplicably disgruntled, Harry climbed into the room and shut the trapdoor behind him. "Has everything been okay? No emergencies?"

"No. Not that you really would have been able to do anything if there had been, seeing as you were several hundred miles away."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Harry cast an uncomfortable look at the boy sitting beside him, not really wanting to talk about it too much in front of him. "Look, Drac, I - "

"Drac-o."

"Okay, okay, Draco - I... well, I thought you understood... about Wales and everything. I mean, we talked about it..."

"No, you told me about it," Draco corrected. "Are you staying? Sit down with George if you are, I can't see you properly."

Glancing at George, who continued to say nothing, Harry settled on the floor.

"Did you enjoy it? Oh, I'm sorry, did I say 'it'? I meant 'him', naturally."

Harry turned crimson, "It was... good. We went to the cinema... I'd never been before."

"How romantic."

The other two boys glanced at each other and George made a small snort that may have been a suppressed laugh, he couldn't tell.

"Um... kind of," Harry said warily, looking between them and wishing he knew what was going on. He was sure that something had been said about him in the recent past and didn't like the feel of whatever it was still lingering in the room's atmosphere. "Have I missed something? Am I interrupting? I could just go... Y'know... come back later?"

"Nah, s'okay, I'd better go and find Fred anyway," George said, standing up without uncrossing his ankles and brushing the dust off of his jeans.

"Oh... okay."

Harry caught a glimpse of disappointment on Draco's holographic face in the fireplace and frowned slightly.

"Don't forget, okay?" George said, smirking down at Draco, who smirked back and nodded. "I'd talk to you later, Drac, alright? See ya, Harry."

"Um... bye." Harry didn't miss the restless look in Draco's eyes as he watched the older boy disappear down the trapdoor. "Looks like I missed something after all," he said carefully. "I go away for a couple of days and suddenly you've got a new best friend."

"So?"

"Nothing, I... well, I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't think you and George knew each other very well."

"Not that it's any of your business, but actually George has been making the effort to spend time with me for a couple of weeks - which is something I notice you haven't."

Harry began to feel guilty, knowing that it was true, "I know," he admitted, rubbing at the back of his head awkwardly. "Things have just been... well... Gavin and I had to sort a few things out. I didn't mean to neglect you or anything - I'm not even sure how safe it is to keep doing this. Don't you think it's a bit risky? Your father could walk in at any time and you - "

"You're making excuses, Harry."

"I'm not! Honestly - I... Look. There's something you need to know - "

"Oh no - no, don't you dare start telling me that. I don't want to hear it. Any of it."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

Draco looked at him sceptically, "I don't know but I can take a fairly accurate guess. And I don't want to hear it."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, only to close it and gaze mournfully at the other boy, who was in turn fixing him with an impatient glare. Nothing else was said for several minutes.

"Has your father spoken to you at all?" Harry finally asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Funny you should ask that, actually," Draco began, the expression on his face suggesting that in fact, this wasn't going to be funny at all, "Yesterday, in the morning, my father did come to visit me. He stopped for a chat - incredibly peaceable and friendly in his manner - he commented on how well I looked and brought me a book to read as he said he didn't want my studies to slip while I was so unfortunately injured. I knew, of course, that something as wrong there and then.

"When it reached dinner time I wondered why Bloff, the house elf that usually served me hadn't arrived. He was usually very punctual about my meals, even if they were entirely inedible. So, I waited, and after some time, looking rather upset I felt - not that I know or care much about our house elves - Gobber came in carrying a silver platter. Ordinarily, my evening meal would be brought in on a tray with a glass cover, so I was naturally intrigued. I waited until Gobber had left, and then I took a look," Draco said, his voice sounding slightly strained in its detached, matter-of-fact tone. "On the plate, underneath the wonderfully shiny silver, was the severed head of the house elf that had been feeding me. Clearly, my father assumed that he had not been carrying out his orders, and made an example of him."

Harry's mouth hung open in horror. "I don't believe it..."

"I do. I saw it with my own eyes; it made me sick. And do you want to know what the book was?" Draco asked, almost sounding like a child relating a gory account of how a snail looked when it was trodden on.

"I'm not sure I do actually," Harry mumbled, grimacing.

"It was a large, leather-bound volume on the implications of life-debts and how to use them for personal gain. A self-help book in how to screw people over."

"Oh."

"On the positive side, I may be able to talk my way into being allowed out of here and to the library to study. I dare say I could smuggle out some interesting tomes for the perusal of Hogwarts gallant staff - who have so far proved quite uncaring on the matter of my safety, don't you think?"

"I know," Harry sighed, "but you're alright, though - you don't think you're in any more danger than before I left, do you? You know I wouldn't have gone if you'd been scared - if I really thought you needed me, right?"

Draco stared at him through narrowed eyes, "How would you know? Every time you came you'd have Cross with you and it isn't as if you ever stayed. The only person who did was George."

Harry took some vague solace in the fact that Draco was at least calling Gavin by his surname, not a string of insults, these days, and asked, "How did you manage to get him away from Fred?"

"I didn't, he chose to spend his free time with me," Draco told him, an infuriating smugness in his voice.

"Seriously?"

"Why does it surprise you? Miss being the only person capable of some semblance of civility?"

"He's a Weasley," Harry said flatly, distantly wondering if the world had gone mad in the past three days and someone had failed to tell him.

"Oh shut up - you sound like I did when I was twelve!"

"Well, yeah - that's the point..."

"In case you haven't noticed, I am sixteen."

"I know, I'm just saying... well, you've changed, that's all."

"Of course I've changed - do you see me hexing you into oblivion for being an insensitive, stupid git?"

"No, but I'm a bit surprised about that, too... I've been -"

"Oh no you don't - don't start doing the self-pitying thing to make me feel guilty."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!" Draco taunted, mimicking Harry's own voice and saying, "I'm Harry and I'm a selfish prat most of the time, but it's okay because I admit it and that means I have to take no responsibility for it anyway'. I think not."

Harry sucked in his lip to prevent him from pouting, a reaction caused by trying to hold his tongue and not storm off in a strop simultaneously.

"Oh don't look at me like that, Harry, you're making an idiot of yourself."

"Get lost!"

"I would, only I'm grounded and can't actually leave."

"Yeah, I know," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We'll do what we can, okay?"

"Considering the only thing it seems our great professors and leaders of the Order have been able to do is sit in their offices twiddling their thumbs, I won't bother holding my breath."

~*~

It was surprisingly easy to persuade Draco's father to let him study in the manor library. Almost too easy. It was several days before Draco felt safe enough to smuggle out a book to pass to Harry. He chose one that was small and ordinary-looking, but focused on the great magical sources - the elements and, most importantly, Life. If there was a way to remove Life, perhaps there was a way to keep it in?

He passed the books he stole through the fire one a day. In their library, filled with over half a million books and taking up two floors at the end of the south wing, he was fairly sure they would not be missed. He was afraid of being caught, though. He knew that if his father found out he was smuggling books out of the house - to Harry Potter of all people! - he would be signing his own death warrant. But there was something strangely exhilarating about the fear; the creeping sensation across his shoulders and up his spine as he walked carefully through halls of spying, devious paintings who would report back anything suspicious. He was glad that the only art in the library was a pair of black marble occamies that stood either side of the main doors and didn't speak much; there was no art in his bedroom. His father had thought that being surrounded by art would make him effeminate. It seemed terribly ironic, now.

~*~

Fred had always thought it was impossible for anything to come between him and George; no matter what happened they had always, always been inseparable. Not just living in each other's pockets, but never angry with each other or unwilling to speak to the other. They didn't need to read each other's minds, because more often than not they were thinking the same thing. Feeling the same thing, it would seem, was growing less of a synchronised affair. Where Fred would say where he stood as and when he felt it, George had a thoroughly unproductive habit of bottling things up until they exploded.

He hadn't seen it as a big deal when he'd started hanging out with Gina. She was the year below them and a Muggle-born tomboy who thought Quidditch was stupid and rugby was the answer to the world's problems. Her theory was that one rugby match would sort out 'the entire Voldie cock-up'; Fred's theory was that she was barking mad, but he quite liked her, so he'd made the effort to stick around and see what else she came up with. The longer he'd spent around her the more time he'd wanted to spend and before he really knew what was going on he'd been told they were seeing each other. He'd just shrugged and said 'Why not?'

It took a while to work out exactly why not and the reason was pretty stupid in itself. At least, Fred thought so.

He'd noticed straight away when George had started spending all his spare time at the Shrieking Shack. He almost thought that George was deliberately doing it to annoy him, because as grateful as he was to Malfoy for catching Ron, he still thought he was a cocky little git and couldn't understand what possessed his brother to spend so much time around him. Apparently, George felt the same way about Gina, and that's where the argument had stemmed from.

It had been a simple comment, one Fred had probably said once a day in the past few weeks; "I'm just going to hang out with Gina."

Only, this time George had scowled and snapped, "What's fucking new?"

Fred had stopped in the doorway and turned to look at him; "Eh?" he'd asked incredulously.

"I said what's fucking new?" his twin said, slumped back against his pillows, legs stretched out down the bed and an expression of deep annoyance across his freckled face. "I mean, it's not as if we have Wheezes to be working on or anything."

"So? You're perfectly able to do some work on your own, aren't you? If you can find time to fit it around Malfoy, that is..."

"What's that fucking meant to mean?" George demanded, spinning around so his legs were hanging over the edge of the bed. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of the mattress on either side of him and glared at his brother. "It's a bit rich coming from you, ain't it? You're the one who pisses off with some girl every five minutes."

"What's the matter, Georgie, jealous?" Fred smirked in the way he knew infuriated Ron and Percy so very much.

"Jealous? Oh, take a look, will you, you prat? Look at the colour of her hair and the way she dresses and ask her what 'Gina's bloody short for. See if you sodding notice anything, Fred. Just see."

"What the fuck are you on about?" Fred asked in disbelief, thrown by the expression on his brother's face, the unfamiliar tone of his voice.

"Oh, forget it - if you're too bloody stupid to see what you're doing forget it, Fred. You go off with your bloody stupid girlfriend and just leave me alone... Again."

Fred's temper got the better of him, then, and in a second he was nose-to-nose with his brother, growling, "Shut the fuck up."

"You're only spending so much time with her because you get to fuck her!" George replied, his voice rising almost to a yell. "You're that bloody shallow that you're going out with someone just like us - just like me - because you get laid with it! And now you've found a fucking upgrade that's it, who needs George anyway? After all, we're only bloody twins."

"Don't be so fucking pathetic!"

"We're fucking twins, Fred! We've always done everything together and now some bloody girl is so much more important that you don't even care about the Wheezes any more! Don't you wanna do this? You decided that we're not going to have the shop or any of it? Because that's the way it's going, Fred, and I'm not giving everything for you to give nothing. It's not fair to expect that!"

Fred had been a bit shocked at the tone of his voice and demanded to know what the hell that had to do with George, anyway. He should have known, really. The only night they'd ever slept in separate rooms was when George broke his arm in first year by falling off the top of the revolving staircase on the ground floor and had walked out of the hospital wing and back to the Gryffindor dorms in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep on the other side of the school from his twin. Of course, they told themselves they'd be fine alone now they were nearly eighteen, but they never risked finding out, just in case. He should have known that spending every spare minute of his own with someone - anyone - who wasn't his twin was asking for trouble. Except George was the thoughtful one, not Fred.

So he's lashed out and said stupid things he'd meant at the time, but would never have considered, usually. And then he'd stormed off defiantly, planning on seeing Gina, only to find that she was too busy hanging around with her friends, and decided that he'd go and find out what it was about Draco Malfoy that George found so entertaining anyway, and stomped off to the Whomping Willow in frustration.

Malfoy had seemed deeply surprised to see him, immediately asking what was wrong and where George was.

"He's up at the Tower," Fred had told him irritably.

"Is that so?"

The superior look on the younger boy's face almost made Fred want to slap it. "Yes, it is," he replied.

"What's the matter, had a little tiff, have we?"

"What if we have?"

Malfoy shrugged and gave a heavy sigh, "You really should get over yourself, you know. Or should I say 'yourselves'? He needs to learn to share and you need to learn to manage your time. I'm sure it's all very exciting that a woman other than your mother has taken an interest, but you really ought to remember your priorities. George will be there a long time after this little witch of yours; but not if you push him away like that. There's only so much a person will take of being pushed away."

Fred studied him warily. The other boy's eyes had dropped as he drew to the end of his little speech and for a fleeting moment there he almost thought Malfoy might be capable of an emotion other than smugness.

"Can I ask you something, Malfoy?" Fred asked carefully, moving into a more comfortable position and tilting his head, thoughtfully. "Why George? What makes you so keen on my brother all of a sudden when you used to hate the lot of us? You see, I don't quite get the concept, here, because I still think you're a haughty little knobhead."

"I didn't pick George. George volunteered. And it just so happens that at least one of your brood was gifted with a certain amount of wit and intelligence," Malfoy told him, smirking, "Who would have thought it?"

"Oi - none of my family are stupid!" Fred replied hotly, before muttering, "Well, except Maybe Ron... But that still doesn't make sense - "

"Listen, Weasley, if you can't see the appreciable characteristics in your own twin I really don't have the patience to explain them all to you. Just the fact that he takes the time to give me some company despite everything should be enough of a clue."

"He only does it because I have to spend time with Gina and he has nothing better to do - "

"You think so?" Malfoy asked, the same superior smile drifting over his lips. "Maybe he did, once. You must be spending an awful lot of time with the girl if that's still the case."

"He's not here that often..."

"Every day."

"So?"

"I just think that you underestimate your brother's potential for free will because you're too busy exponentially abusing the fact that he's always there doing the hard work. You used to be a perfect little balancing act, didn't you? But you're older now, and you want to go off and meet the world and expect to come back when it suits you and find everything the same. But you won't, because the world keeps turning and you're not the only one who isn't an obnoxious little boy any more. Well, I happen to think you're still obnoxious, actually, but you see my point."

Fred stared at him between disbelief at the other boy's audacity and quiet horror at realising that some of the things he was saying might just be true. Slightly.

"Here, Weasley," Malfoy said suddenly, shoving a book through the flames. "Take this and make yourself useful. Give it to Harry, and tell him he should... look ... at..."

Fred froze, staring at the other boy's shoulder. A hand was clasping slowly onto his robes, a silver serpent with green eyes curled around the smallest finger. The younger boy's face had frozen in terror and his eyes slowly dropped closed, his lower jaw quaking slightly. In a whirl of robes he was wrenched from view and replaced with the hiss of a man's voice.

"Crucio."

Fred ran for Draco's life.

It was dark when Sirius opened the door; they were not expecting visitors and were just finishing their evening meal. He did not expect to greet a panicked and incoherent Weasley, who stumbled past him and into the living room, calling for Harry.

Harry leapt up from his seat in the kitchen, dropping a spoonful of apple pie and custard onto the flagstones in his hurry. "What?" he asked, gripping the other boy's shoulders as he stared down at him with terrified hazel eyes. "What's the matter?"

"It's... Draco - it's Draco... his father - he - "

Harry paled instantaneously, "Oh no - George, what happened?"

"Fred - I'm... His father caught him, Harry - there was... he cast an Unforgivable and he screamed and - we have to do something! He's... we have to help him!"

Remus carefully detached Fred from Harry as he began to look slightly faint, and pushed him towards the sofa, saying, "Calm down, Fred, tell us what happened. Where is Draco?"

"No - we can't - Harry - !"

"Fred," Remus said firmly, clasping the teenager's shoulders, "take a deep breath and tell me what happened. Where is Draco now?"

"At the Manor," Harry said from behind them, both hands in his hair, grasping fistfuls as if about to tear it out.

"What?" Sirius asked, moving back into the room from where he has been standing shocked in the doorway. "How..?"

"We've been talking to him from the Shack for weeks - his father has been starving him and we had to sneak him some food - George has been... Fred, what were you doing there? Where's George? Why did you go?"

"It's my fault..." the other boy murmured, anxiously, "It's my fault because I went - if I hadn't been there his father never would have seen him and - I just wanted to talk to him... I didn't... Oh shit - George!" He stared over Remus' shoulder at Harry and took a deep and unsteady breath, "George - I have to tell George..."

"You can tell George in a minute," Remus told him sternly, "which curse did Lucius cast, Fred?"

"C-cruciatus... and he screamed and... He's going to kill the poor bastard, isn't he?"

"I don't know," Remus replied, turning to glance at Sirius. "Siri, get Albus. Tell him we need Severus and that we have to get a rescue organised immediately. And just hope that it's not too late."

~*~

Draco's vision was blurry with pain. A grey fog seemed to settle around him as he slumped back onto the floor, limp. His father was close by, still; he could sense him there, the hatred radiating from him in a scorching heat. He cried out and doubled over as his ribs made a sickening crunch under his father's foot. He was distantly aware that his face was wet and hoped that it was blood, because his father would be so very angry if it was tears.

"Get up."

Draco rolled a fraction, trying to obey, and gasped at the excruciating pain that fanned out from his side.

"I said get up." His father's voice sliced through him like a million tiny blades, and Draco gave a sob and struggled to his knees, desperately trying to ignore the agony it brought. He staggered as he rose, clutching his arms around himself and blinking as drops of blood splashed onto his hand and on to the dark wooden floor. He choked as his father grabbed him by the throat and hissed, "Get out of my house," into his face, shoving him towards the bedroom door.

He could feel his father close behind him as he stumbled along the hallways, falling against panelled walls every time a cane with a platinum snake's head was lashed across his legs. He fell to his knees as his whole body felt as though it had been set alight, searing agony tearing through him. As he reached out to steady himself he found there was nothing in front of him to grasp, and suddenly he was falling. Dimly he knew that this was the grand staircase; the same fall that had killed his grandmother and for a moment it felt as though his heart had stopped altogether. It felt as though he would continue to tumble forever. When he reached the bottom he gasped for air, his lungs feeling as though they were filling up with cement and his shattered ribs feeling uneven and jagged beneath his skin. He remained still as the sound of his father's cane clicking against the banisters grew slowly and deliberately closer.

"Oh dear," his Lucius said with false concern and barely veiled glee, "did little Draccy slip? What an awful thing to have happened. Such a pity it didn't kill you, as it did when I pushed your dear grandmother. Of course, I had to snap her neck with my bear hands, just to be sure. We wouldn't want there to be any mistakes, after all, would we, Draco?"

Draco whimpered and curled up as much as he could.

"I said would we, Draco!" his father bellowed, and he heard the sharp swish of a cane whipping down across his face.

"No, father," Draco lisped, feeling blood or spittle roll down from the corner of his mouth and not much caring which it was.

"No," his father echoed. "No, we wouldn't."

The next few moments were blank; he blinked his eyes open to find his breath steaming in front of him, the icy dampness of snow against his skin. He couldn't see his father, and wondered if he was alone as he watched a spreading patch of darkness seeping across the moonlit snow.

"What have I done to deserve such behaviour?" his father's voice asked from behind him, echoing slightly against the walls of the rear courtyard and sounding theatrically wounded and hard-done by. "Have I not raised you to understand that your loyalties are to this family and our Master? Did you feel so great a need to punish me that you would turn to Mudbloods and blood traitors and betray me, or did you think I would fail to notice my books disappearing?"

Lucius sighed injuredly, "Dear Draco, my only son, I had such plans for you. Now, I am afraid that you have outlived your use, for it is clear that you are far from worthy of joining with our Lord." He gave a small laugh, "Indeed, you are barely good enough to feed the estate's hounds! Alas, I can think of no better use for you. When they are released at breakfast time I am sure they will make quite a meal of your feeble form - I asked that they not be fed for a few days, as soon as I suspected that I would have such fresh meat to provide them with."

Draco gave a small sob and tried to curl up into a foetal position, the ice against his cheek burning his skin.

"Oh now, Draco, we mustn't cry. What have I told you about crying? Besides, I am not a cruel man and you are my only son. I shall leave you here and with any luck by dawn you will have succumbed to the cold. You may even be dead by the time they reach you."

"F-father, please..." Draco's voice was so weak he could barely hear it himself and he didn't have the energy to try again.

Lucius laughed and crouched down beside him, stroking this cheek in a parody of tenderness, "Oh, and about our friend, Harry Potter, there was never anything you could have done. He will still be part of a more high-class feast, but I promise to ensure I have some rump, just for you."

There was a sound of feet crunching in the snow and then there was silence; Draco closed his eyes and felt the first flakes of snow brush onto his face.

~*~

In the little white cottage on the edge of the Hogwarts lawns a small group of people were arguing. In the middle of it all Sirius Black yelled at Severus Snape, restrained only by Remus Lupin clinging to both his arms and pleading with him to calm down as Albus Dumbledore laid a frail but authoritative hand upon the shoulder of the Potions master. In the midst of it all stood Harry Potter, yelling over and over that they had to help Draco, and on the sofa sat Fred Weasley, watching the whole affair with disjointed detachment. It was like a bad dream. Now that the adrenaline had worn off there was nothing he could do but watch as nothing was done. Sirius and Harry wanted to run straight to the Shack and get the other boy back or die trying. According to Snape, they probably would. Dumbledore and Lupin tried to draw back the calm, but what would they do once they had? They were helpless without the understanding of the Malfoy estate that Draco's father had.

There was a resounding silence as he spoke out, so suddenly that he even made himself jolt with surprise.

"Dobby."

It was Lupin who reacted first, even though all eyes had turned to him simultaneously. "What was that, Fred?" he said, his neat, calm voice sounding inappropriate in the circumstances.

"Dobby - the house elf. The one in the kitchens... he was the Malfoys'. He must know... surely he'd know everything?"

"DOBBY!" Harry echoed, grasping hold of Lupin's sleeve. "Dobby - he'd know! Fred's right! We need Dobby!"

Immediately, Dobby was standing amid them, half way through a sentence and still polishing a piece of silverware. He blinked huge green eyes from beneath a tea cosy covered in small Christmas trees and snowflakes and stammered, "O-oh, hello, Harry Potter, sir."

"Dobby!" Harry said, falling to his knees to reach eye-level with the creature that Fred absently noted was wearing one of Ron's old t-shirts, "Dobby, we need you to help us. You have to tell us about Malfoy Manor - about the wards on the house."

"What, sir?" Dobby asked, looking worried. "H-harry P-potter wants Dobby to talk about M-mr Malfoy, sir? Oh no! No! It's a bad man, Harry Potter! A very bad man indeed. No no no!" he covered his ears, folding them down so he couldn't hear.

"Dobby," Harry said firmly, pulling the elf's hands away, "You must tell us what we need to know. Remember your old master, Dobby? He's hurting Draco and we have to go and find him, but we can't if we don't know what wards are going to stop us. You must tell us, Dobby, please."

"But Harry Potter can't go there! It's a bad place, a terrible place! There are great statues there and whispering walls, sir. No - Harry Potter mustn't go! Must never go there!"

"You don't understand, Dobby," Harry pleaded, still clinging to the small creature's wrists, "Draco could die and we have to save him, but we can only do that with your help. We know it's dangerous, Dobby, but it's more dangerous for Draco to be left there. Lucius could kill him... he could kill him, don't you understand?" Harry's voice quivered as he spoke and Fred pressed the heels of his palms over his eyes, trying to block it all out and wishing more than anything that George was there. George, who still didn't know that any of this was going on. George who was probably still angry with him and would probably go to the Shack to try and speak to Draco to -

"Oh no. George!" Fred leapt to his feet, pushing his way through the crowd towards the door.

"Fred?" Lupin called after him anxiously, moving towards him as he reached for the latch. "Fred, where are you going?"

"George," he breathed, throwing the door open and running out into the cold night air.

"What about George?"

"I have to - "

He didn't finish his sentence, his heart pounding in his ears as his feet barely skimmed the grass as he ran.

Since they were small, both twins had had a natural ability to locate each other. They were never usually very far apart, but you could put them at opposite sides of a maze and they'd walk straight to each other. Fred was never more thankful for this than right at the moment he swung around a corner and slammed straight into George, running in the opposite direction. His brother caught them both from falling as he staggered back against a statue and held Fred to him with handfuls of woollen jumper.

"What's happened?" George asked immediately, helping him stand upright and giving him the barest of shakes to bring him around. He hadn't seen that sort of fear in his brother's eyes in all his life. He had known something was wrong. There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he lay on his bed, face buried in the pillow. Twice, he had looked up, thinking he had heard Fred's voice. Twice there had been no one there.

Fred stared at him, his mouth half open and lip shaking with the desperate gasps of breath he drew as he stood there, his eyes darting with panic.

"Fred! Tell me!"

Fred's mouth worked helplessly until he murmured, "Malfoy..." and George's heart leapt up to his throat.

"No..." he whispered, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"All my fault..." Fred mumbled, slumping sideways into the stone wall. "I thought... Fuck...I thought you'd try and go there... but he's not there... I don't... he hurt him, George! He fucking... the screaming...I..."

George reached out and dragged his twin against his shoulder as he gave a dry sob. "No... no, it's not your fault..."

"He screamed like... like he was being ripped apart... I just... I can still h-hear it..."

George squeezed his eyes shut and they slid down the wall until they crumpled on the floor, Fred's face still pressed into his shoulder and his breath coming in uncertain, shuddering gasps.

"What happened, Fred? Why did you even go there?"

"I just... I wanted to know why... I never meant to get him in trouble, Georgie, I just... God, if you'd heard it..."

"Have you told anyone? We need to tell Harry - and Dumbledore - anyone..."

"They're at the cottage but they can't do anything - Dobby won't tell and they... I thought you were going to go to the fucking Shack and - " Fred slammed the palm of his hand hard against wall in frustration, before scrunching it in his fringe, "What if he's... what if he kills him, George?"

"He won't," George told him as confidently as he could manage, gritting his teeth together to force the words out. "He won't. They'll get to him and bring him here and he'll be okay. We'll all be okay, Fred, you listen to me. It's going to be okay."

Fred gave another dry, throaty sob and George held him even tighter, forcing down his own growing anxiety down as far as he could, knowing that if he couldn't be there to reassure his twin now both of them would be liable to breaking later.

~*~

Draco thought he was dreaming at first. She was standing there in the snow, her bare feet and the hem of her white gown glistening as they soaked up the blood from the pulping snow. She glistened, almost, and he supposed that she was an angel, come to take him wherever it was that heretics went. He would have laughed at the irony of those bloody Christians being right if he had had the energy. He couldn't move. All he could see was below her ankles, but it was her voice that eventually identified her to him, softly singing the only song he could remember her singing when he was an infant.

Hush little baby, don't say a word, mamma's going to buy you a mocking bird...

"M-m-mama?" he whispered, straining to turn his head and look up at her. She gazed down at him, her golden hair loose and falling about her shoulders, catching the moonlight and giving her an ethereal glow that made him wonder if his father had killed her, too, and she was waiting for him to go with her.

"Shhh," she said, bowing over him and stroking his hair softly; her fingers came away dark. "It's alright, my darling," she whispered and lay something over him. He couldn't identify where it had come from, but it was warm and she was there and if he was going to die at least he would be with his mother. At least Lucius couldn't hurt them any more.

He closed his eyes and he could still hear his mother's voice, but he was floating. There was no snow beneath him any more and he was growing warm. He took a breath and didn't remember any more.

~*~

Harry sat on the door step, hugging his knees; snow drifted down in ever-tightening swirls as the wind picked up. Inside, the adults were preparing to leave. Dumbledore was staying, of course and had already left for the castle; Sirius would be staying, too, but Remus and Snape were going, and to his surprise, from the darkness he made out the tall form of Professor Vector as she strode across the lawns towards him. Her robes wrapped around her strong shoulders and billowed behind her. They were black with tones of dark, midnight blue and she looked forbidding as she approached, her face not even bowed against the wind.

"Potter, you will catch a cold," she said, more softly than her appearance allowed for. "Why aren't you inside?"

Harry sighed and said, "They won't let me go to the Manor."

"Of course they won't," she smiled, her thick, black eyebrows quirking with gentle amusement, "You mean too much to them to lose, Harry."

"But I can cope, Professor! I -"

"Oh yes, we know that you can cope with Dark magic, nobody doubts that in the slightest." She reached down a leather-gloved hand and stroked his head, "Could you also cope with seeing your friend badly hurt? Or worse?"

Harry stared up at her, her dark indigo eyes compassionate. He could think of nothing to say.

"It is not that we doubt your skill, but no one would like you to have to endure such things. This way we can be gone as quickly as possible. I am sure Remus would find it hard to concentrate fully if he thought you were in any way endangered. Even if you are capable, his first duty would be to you and not to himself or even Draco. Would you want that risk?"

The door opened behind them and Snape strode out of the living room and into the snow, swishing past Harry impatiently.

"Copia, we are leaving. I trust you are prepared."

"As ever, Severus," she purred with a slight hint of distaste, although a smile quirked at her dark plum lips.

Remus followed more slowly, he stopped behind Harry and took a deep breath. "We won't be long, Harry," he said, even though Harry could hear the lack of conviction in his voice as clearly as the howling wind.

"Take care, Moony," Harry said, staring down at his knees and forcing himself to swallow repeatedly.

"I will. I promise." Suddenly, Remus was crouched beside him, a mittened hand placed between Harry's shoulder blades. "And listen, I don't intend to be gone for very long, but should I be I want you to look after Sirius and make sure he shares the cleaning and things, alright? I know what you're like when it comes to taking responsibility for things that aren't yours. Promise?"

Harry nodded and leaned into Remus, who reached both arms around him and gave him a brief hug.

"We'll do everything we can for Draco, you know that. You could wake up tomorrow and find him sitting in the kitchen complaining about my cooking."

"Hope so," Harry said, trying to laugh but coming out with a miserable sniff instead.

Remus stood and stepped down into the snow, turning back as Sirius loomed in the door way where he had been previously. They said nothing for a few moments, but suddenly Remus gave a small breath of laughter and held out his arms, a slight smile on his lips, and suddenly Sirius was outside, barefooted in the snow and crushing him in a hug so tight it was a wonder if Remus could breathe at all. It seemed strangely fitting when he bowed down and crushed his lips against Moony's and let go.

"Get back indoors, you fool, your socks are drenched," the shorter man scolded gently.

"I want you back here by day break, Moony."

"Before," he nodded solemnly, giving Sirius a small prod in the direction of the door. Behind them, Snape made a show of great impatience.

"Remember, Harry - make him share," Remus smiled, backing away and joining the others. "I'll see you soon. Love you both."

Harry stood and stepped inside with Sirius, standing in the doorway to watch until they faded in to the darkness.

"You too."

Harry settled against Sirius' side as he wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders. "They'll be alright," he said, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I hope."

There was silence for a few moments as they stood there, watching the indistinct forms of the small rescue party disappear into the night.

"I suppose I've got some explaining to do, haven't I?"

"Hm?"

"Well... me and Re... We were going to tell you, there just never quite seemed to be a good time."

"When you kissed him, you mean?"

"Yeah, but... you know we're not just...This isn't messing around, Harry. Remus and me, we're together. A couple."

Harry gave a small laugh and shook his head, "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Well, because... Don't you care? We've been worried sick about telling you since we started to sort things out!"

"Why should I care, Padfoot?" Harry asked wearily, leaning against him again, "As long as you don't break up or anything and make me an orphan from a broken home as well I'm just glad you're happy. Someone has to be."

"We weren't happy for a long time, really," Sirius sighed, lifting a hand and rubbing at Harry's hair, "but we are now. Things have been really screwed up for a while, and really that's why we didn't say anything, 'cause we didn't know where it was going and we didn't want you stuck in the middle of all that, but we're happy now. No one's leaving anyone, okay?"

"I hope not..."

"Look, if he can spend twelve years with everyone telling him I killed your mum and dad and still love me like he did when he was fifteen, I -"

"What's that?" Harry asked suddenly, as a yellowish glow appeared in the direction they had been walking.

"I...don't...know..." Sirius said slowly, straightening up and dropping his wand down from the inside of his sleeve.

Harry copied and squinted into the night for some sign of an explanation. For several minutes there was nothing. They stood and watched the static yellow glow do nothing at all. But then, through the increasingly harsh snow, a figure appeared, almost doubled over against the elements. Behind him was another, tall and confident.

"It's Remus and Copia!" Sirius said suddenly, turning around and looking for his boots. He grabbed them from the bottom step of the stairs and dragged them on, "Stay here."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked anxiously, grabbing his godfather's sleeve.

"Just to help them. Look at Remus, Harry - he's carrying something that's got to be almost as big as he is - I'm going to help him bring it in, that's all. Just stay here if you want. You'll be able to see us."

"Okay," Harry nodded, sniffing and wrapping his arms around himself against the cold.

Sirius jumped down the step into the garden and hurdled the low white fence, almost camouflaged in the slow drifting against it. Harry watched as he ran towards the approaching party, noting that Snape was nowhere to be seen. He held his breath as the dark figure of his godfather reached them and after a moment's hesitating to confer, scooped up the bundle in Remus' arms and turned back towards the cottage.

Harry's stomach dropped. It was a person. One limb sagged out from underneath the dark cloth in which it was wrapped, and hung pale against the white snow.

"Oh God."

Harry didn't breathe again until they were thirty yards away, his heart throbbing in his throat and making him want to be sick. The arm sagging from underneath the blanket or robe or whatever it was, hung at an impossible angle two thirds of the way to the wrist. He stared in horror, drawing a long, shaken breath.

"Sirius?"

There was an instantaneous answer through gritted teeth shouted back at him. "Harry, go upstairs."

"Why?" Harry asked anxiously, stepping down into the snow.

"I said go upstairs! Now!" Sirius ordered harshly.

"What's happened?"

It was Remus who answered this time, holding open the front gate and gazing up at him fretfully. "Please, Harry," he pleaded desperately. "Just go to your room."

Harry stood for a fraction of a second before turning and bolting up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door and diving onto his bed. He curled up tightly around his pillow, wrapped in his arms, a thousand versions of the worst-case scenario flashing behind his closed eyelids. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...

Sirius laid the limp body down on the sofa, carefully laying the broken arm straight. He stared down at the bundle he had carried, wrapped in a thick, velvet woman's robe. Little was visible, except the fractured limb and a small patch of forehead, striped with dark red, and he dreaded pulling back the cloth to see what lay beneath. He swallowed, and reached out a hand as Copia threw off her own robes and rolled up her sleeves waiting for Remus to bring a bowl of warm water and some rags.

What's he done to you, kiddo?

He grasped the robe apprehensively and peeled it back, his heart stopping for several seconds as he laid eyes on the broken teenager before him.

"Oh God..." he murmured, sinking slowly to his knees beside the couch, and peeling back the cloth further. "Oh fucking hell... what did that bastard do to you, Draco...?"

The first thing he noticed was the welt across his cheek, a fierce red and smeared in a coating of blood from the cut directly above it, staining the blond hair and plastering it to his scalp in clumps. The boy's lips were swollen and blue with both bruises and cold; his neck was tarnished with bruises in the shape of fingers.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and pulled away the rest of the robe.

The garments beneath were sodden and dirty. The boy was wearing a dark sweater and Sirius was afraid to lift it and see what lay beneath. He was as careful as he could be, but the battered body still uttered an unconscious whimper. Sirius whispered his apologies and pushed the top further up to reveal an oddly misshapen ribcage and bruises the shape of footprints intermingled with thick red welts, some of which had bled, despite obviously being administered through cloth.

"Oh shit..."

Sirius glanced behind him to see Remus pale and dumbstruck at the sight before him. The bowl in his hands gave a faint steam and made his expressions shimmer strangely. He realised for the first time that Copia had slumped into the chair beside them and was clutching a bundle of rags so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Lucius...did this?" she asked, choked. "He would do this to his son?"

"He was always a malicious little bastard, Copia, you knew that."

She stood and dipped the first rag into the bowl in Remus' hands, before kneeling beside the sofa and gently trying to wipe away some of the blood from his face.

"I did not know a boy who would do this to his own child!" she insisted, her powerful voice cracking. "Oh, the poor boy... Where is Poppy? What is taking them so long?"

"Severus... He had to go a long way to the hospital ward, and the storm is getting worse," Remus said, moving closer and setting down the bowl beside them. "I'll get whatever I have for moon nights - but it's not really intended for this..."

"Anything, Moo - just get anything that might help."

Remus hurried out of the living room and paused at the bottom of the stairs, closing his eyes and pushing a hand into snow-dampened hair. He had a lump in his throat, and took a deep breath to dispel it, before continuing up the narrow stairs.

"Remus?"

He looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, pale and obviously terrified.

"Harry..."

"What's happened? Is he going to be okay?" The boy's voice was hollow and shaky. He sounded as if he wanted to cry and Remus sympathised wholeheartedly.

"He's not too good," Remus told him, trying to sound calm but not wanting to lie to him. "His father has been quite brutal and we are just trying to do what we can for him right now. Madam Pomfrey is on her way, she'll take care of everything, okay?"

"I thought... well, it had to be p-pretty bad because you won't let me see him... Is he going to be alright?"

Remus took another breath and forced a reassuring smile, "I'm sure he'll be fine. We just have to wait for Poppy. She has always taken care of you in the past, hasn't she?"

Harry nodded. "I want to see him," he said croakily. "It's me he... I should be there with him..."

"Not now," Remus told him firmly, stepping nearer and pulling him into a hug. "You have to trust us to know what would really be very bad for you at the moment. Once you have seen someone you care about in that sort of state you never forget it, and I don't want that to happen to you. Not now, and hopefully not ever." He let go and stroked Harry's hair down. "You can see him later. Let Madam Pomfrey take a look first, okay?"

Harry nodded again and stepped back into the bedroom. "Take care of him, Moony."

"We'll all do anything we can, Harry. You know that."

Harry gave a faint smile, "I know you will..." he said, and closed the door quietly.

~*~

Harry didn't sleep all night. Instead, he listened to the howling blizzard and faint sound of voices downstairs, wishing that he could be there, helping. His stomach cramped with worry and his head was filled with grotesque ideas at what may have happened, what state Draco might be in. Even when the snow died down to a pretty sprinkle and it began to get light, Harry still didn't sleep. He heard the murmur of voices in the hall and soft, careful footsteps creeping up the stairs. It sounded like they went into Remus' room and he resisted the urge to run out and try and catch a glimpse of Draco. Instead, he waited until all was quiet and he heard footsteps descend the stairs again before crawling out from under the blankets and quietly making his way down stairs.

Sirius was slumped down on the sofa, one hand covering his face, tiredly. It sounded as though Remus was in the kitchen, the faint rhythmic tinging of a teaspoon against ceramic a familiar sound in moments of anxiety.

"How is he?"

Sirius jumped slightly as Harry spoke and fluttered his eyes open. He looked at him for a moment, before giving him an exhausted smile, "He's okay. He'll live, anyway."

Harry moved nearer and curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, huddled against the corner and picking up a cushion to clutch to his chest. "What was the damage? Was it serious? I mean, I saw his arm and it looked broken..."

Sirius sighed and rubbed the side of his forehead with the heel of his hand and said, "Yeah... it was. It's not any more, though. Neither are all the ribs that got stamped on."

"What?" Harry asked, leaning forward and frowning in disbelief.

"Lucius fucking Malfoy is a vicious bastard. What did you expect?"

Remus walked in at that point, carrying three mugs and handing the first out to Harry. "I didn't think you'd slept," he sighed. "How are you?"

"Exhausted." He took the mug and cradled it in his hands; "Thanks."

"You really ought to try and get some sleep; this hasn't been a pleasant experience for anyone."

"Even those of us that remember seeing other people in that kind of state."

Sirius gave Remus a very pointed look and took the mug out of his hand.

"No. Even then."

"But how bad is it? Is he going to be scarred? He'd hate that..."

Remus grimaced slightly. "I think we counted a total of forty-three separate marks from what must have been that ridiculous cane of Lucius' alone. Draco has a lot of bruises that will thankfully disappear shortly, if Madam Pomfrey's remedies do their job as expected, and then we should see the rest. He had a cut or two on his head, ones that will be covered by his hair and which looked a lot worse than they were. They were healed with magic, so they shouldn't scar too badly."

"Made a bloody lot of mess, though..."

Remus gave a reluctant nod of agreement and sipped his tea.

"But what I don't understand is how he got here - how did he manage - ?"

"Knight Bus," Remus said, sighing heavily. "Narcissa seems to have managed to bundle him up and get him on board. That boy - Stu Shun-something?"

"Stan Shunpike," Harry corrected.

"Yes, that's it - he was very concerned. He said she was standing in the snow with bare feet in the middle of nowhere and this bundle of black cloth with what he thought was a child in it. He thought that Draco must be around twelve... And that Narcissa was mad."

"She is..." Harry murmured, thinking about her and wondering whether she was safe herself. "She doesn't know day from night, most of the time..."

"Well, let's just be thankful that she got him here at all. Goodness knows what state she must be in herself, now."

The three of them sat in contemplative silence for several minutes until Harry mumbled, "I'm so glad he's safe..." his head resting against the back of the chair, his eyes drifted closed. "I thought I was going to lose him."

"He's safe, he's not going anywhere," Remus said softly, taking the mug from Harry's hands and setting it down where it wouldn't spill. He pulled the unused blanket from the back of the armchair and tucked it around him, carefully. Glancing at Sirius, he gave a small, wistful smile and said, "Get some rest, God knows you need it."

But Harry was already asleep.

~*~

At nine o'clock, when Harry had barely been asleep a couple of hours, there was a knock at the front door and Remus rushed to open it, not wanting Harry to be disturbed. He was momentarily surprised to find two identical flame-haired figures standing on the doorstep, before his sleep-deprived mind recalled their involvement in all of this.

"Good morning," he said, offering a strained smile.

"Um, hello," the foremost of the pair said, with something like a grimace. His brother stood slightly behind, looking, from what Remus knew of the twins, uncharacteristically withdrawn. "Is Harry there?"

"He's sleeping," Remus told them, pulling the living room door shut so as not to wake him, "last night wasn't particularly easy. I'm glad to see you're both safe. We were worried when you bolted, Fred." He didn't know which twin to look at as he spoke, and covered this by glancing behind him towards the top of the stairs.

"Sorry..." Fred replied, and Remus noted that he was the quieter of the two, this morning. It was hardly surprising.

"How's Draco?" George asked, with what seemed like suppressed anxiety. "Did you get him back?"

"It's a long and convoluted story, and even we do not know the full extent of what happened, yet, but he is here. He's also asleep, though, I'm afraid. I don't know when he'll wake up."

"Oh..." the disappointment was evident in George's expression, and Fred placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, briefly, before turning away slightly and expelling a long breath in a gust of steam.

Remus sighed and stepped back into the house, they both looked pale and shaken and there were so few people up at the castle at the moment... He took pity on them and said, "Look, why don't you come in? If he wakes you'll be the first to know that way."

Both boys' faces lit up a little and they immediately walked in, stomping snow off their feet on the doorstep as they did so.

Remus raised a finger to his lips and quietly opened the living room door, leading them through to the kitchen and closing that door behind them. "Have you had breakfast? You both look terribly off-colour... I can make you some toast, if you're hungry?"

The boys half-glanced at each other, before giving identical shrugs and shaking their heads. It was extraordinarily unnerving.

"Not really hungry, thanks," one of them - he thought it was George - sighed as he pulled out a chair and sank into it. His twin followed immediately.

"Can I ask you boys something?" Remus said, leaning back against the worktop and brushing his hair out of his eyes.

They shrugged and nodded together.

"What were you doing at the Shack? Don't misunderstand me - I'm not interrogating you or in any way telling you off for what you have all been doing, but... it seems to me, from what Harry - and also you, Fred - well, it just seems to have gone beyond simple duty. I can't quite fathom what has been going on, here - "

"He saved Ron's life, isn't that enough?"

Two pairs of hazel eyes looked up at him with a defensive challenge that made him squirm, slightly. He was reminded of the sort of horror films they watched in their youth. In fact, that had been Sirius' reaction the first time they had spoken about Draco; 'Can you imagine a Malfoy family reunion? It'd be less like the Addams Family than bloody Village of the Damned!' This, however, felt like being stuck in Gormenghast.

Remus blinked and realised that they were staring at him. "O-of course it is... yes. But for people who have been on opposite sides of a feud for - well, since before you were even born - "

"They started it, we're ending it, Professor," George said flatly, running a freckled finger along a crack in the table. "We changed. All of us. Draco and Gavin Cross hate each other, but he was still part of it. He still went with Harry to see Draco almost every night - "

"Wonder why..." Fred muttered into his hand, staring out of the window.

"And Draco..." George stopped, frowning, digging a half-bitten nail into the break in the wood, "I'm not saying we forgive him for everything, but..."

Fred somehow seemed to be closer to his brother without moving anything but his head, now looking back at Remus, again, "Some things shouldn't be dragged up once they're over, should they?"

"He's alright, when you get to know him... No, he's more than alright - he's funny and brainy and I like him, now... He's not like we thought he was."

"He can tell us apart," Fred added, tilting his head and looking at his brother contemplatively for a moment as he hunched over the table and concentrated on fiddling with nothing, then looked up at Remus and gave him a long stare. "Not many people can."

"No," Remus replied, feeling a peculiar hesitance towards them and reminding himself that he hadn't slept in twenty-six hours, "I'm sorry to say that I'm not one of them. But I agree with you about Draco, he is a good person, but he has spent a ridiculous amount of time cultivating a caricature of what he feels he should have been and, rather in the way people have difficulty distinguishing between the two of you, people seem to have a lot of trouble distinguishing between the 'real' Draco and the one he wants us to see."

"Exactly," George nodded, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Fred patted him supportively on the shoulder and leaned back in his chair.

"I still don't really get it, to be honest, but if this one says he's alright..." Fred gave a faint smirk, tapping the backrest of his brother's chair, "I s'pose he must be."

"He is," George told them firmly.

"I know, mate," Fred nodded, swinging his knee to the side to bump against his brother's leg companionably. He sighed and explained, "Me and George had a bit of a fight about stuff, yesterday. That's why I was at the Shack but he wasn't..."

"We never fight," the other boy added quietly, half glancing at his twin apologetically.

"Well," Remus began, trying to smile supportively, "it seems things are cleared up now, and the best of us fight with the people closest to us - "

"Not us."

"Ah... well, the - well, the thing is, when you've been very close to someone for a very long time it begins to get to a stage where you both tire of having no alternative to their company. You develop differences in taste, perhaps - "

"No," Fred said, frowning dejectedly, "we're not growing apart."

From the way his shoulders sank and he looked away, Remus thought that perhaps George disagreed. He was very grateful that the door opened behind them at that point and a groggy-looking Harry wandered in.

"You let me sleep!" he complained, rubbing his hair tiredly and looking like a small child as he awkwardly tried to put his glasses on.

"You were tired, Harry," Remus said gently, "You needed the rest."

"But what if something happened? I wouldn't know." He stopped and stared at the two red-heads before him as if he had just realised they were there, "Oh. Hello."

"Alright?" they nodded simultaneously.

"Have you come to see Draco?"

"Yeah... is he okay?"

"Dunno," Harry replied, giving Remus a slightly disgruntled look, "I'm not allowed to see him, yet."

"Do you want something to eat, Harry?" Remus asked lightly, wanting an excuse to do something - anything - other than just stand there.

"Mm... toast?"

"Toast it is. Fred, George?"

"No, ta."

Remus wondered how they managed to speak so perfectly in synchronisation so often; he and Sirius may have their weird quirks, but this was just plain... bizarre.

Harry sat down at the table and rested his elbows on it, tangling both hands in his hair. He had crease marks from the back of the sofa on his cheek and dark smudges beneath his eyes.

"You look like shit, man," Fred said, patting him on the shoulder.

"So would you, if you had been up all night worried about your best mate," Harry snapped back.

"We were," George replied, through slightly gritted teeth. "You're not the only mate he has, you know."

Harry and George stared at each other for several moments, expressions hard and challenging.

"Oh, cut it out!" Fred huffed finally. "I'm not putting up with more bloody grief from you two as well. People are allowed more than one friend in the world, you know."

"My sentiments exactly," Remus agreed. "I'm glad to see that Draco does have friends to worry about him at times like this, but I'm entirely certain that he wouldn't want you to bicker about it."

"There's plenty of him to go around," Fred smirked.

This time it was Harry and George who spoke together, crying "Shut up!" in identical scandalised tones.

"What the hell's going on down here?" Sirius demanded as he strode into the room. "I can hear you all the bloody way upstairs! The kid's asleep, have some respect!"

"Is he alright, Siri?" Harry asked, looking up at him, hopefully. "Can I go up and see him, yet?"

Sirius and Remus looked at each other.

"Er... I don't know about that, Harry..."

"Why not? I'll be really quiet, I promise, I just want to see him."

"Can I go, too?" George asked immediately.

Harry cast him a slightly annoyed look.

"You shouldn't really crowd him, boys - if he wakes up it could be a little disorientating at first to have so many people around him..."

"And the kid looks like he's been trampled by fucking wildebeest or something, you'll all be having nightmares for weeks."

"Don't patronise me," Harry snapped back, "I saw Cedric Diggory die six months ago."

"Yeah, and that's exactly why we don't want to put you through this again."

"You're trying to molly coddle me again!"

"Harry..."

"Draco's my friend and I'm the only friend he has - I should be there!"

"You're not the only friend he has," George corrected, scowling.

"Fine," Sirius said, irritably, "Go on, piss off upstairs. Just don't come running to me when you have nightmares, alright?"

Harry and George were already half-way out of the door; Fred stood up more slowly, and cast them both men apprehensive look before sighing heavily and following.

Harry and George raced into Remus' bedroom and straight over to the bed, Harry falling to his knees and leaning on the mattress and George carefully perching on the edge. They leaned over the other boy, gazing in horrified disbelief at the large patch of purple across the usually pale skin of his face, the swollen lip and the thin red lines where cuts had been turned to fresh scar tissue.

"Fuck."

"Not while I'm in this state."

Both boys gasped as Draco opened first one puffy eye, and then the other, looking up at them with what might have been a smirk. His voice was breathy and quiet, but unmistakeably Draco.

"Draco, you're awake!"

"Are you alright, mate? What happened?"

"We were so worried!"

"Well, it's hard to maintain unconsciousness when it sounds like there's a riot happening downstairs."

"What? We weren't that loud..."

"Where's your brother, George?" Draco asked, ignoring their questions.

George glanced over his shoulder to where Fred was leaning against the door frame. Apprehensively, the other boy straightened and moved nearer the bed.

"Hey," he said uncomfortably.

"You alright, Weasley?"

"Me?" Fred asked in surprise. "I... well, yeah, I'm fine. Glad to know you're okay, that's all."

"I wanted to make sure you escaped. I thought he may have sent someone after you."

The three boys looked at each other.

"Um... no... not that we know of."

"What did he do to you, Drac?" George asked, grimacing slightly.

"He punished me," Draco said simply, a laugh falling into a wracking cough.

"But I don't get how you made it back here - you look like you should've been half dead - you can't've escaped on your own..."

"He didn't," Harry told them, quietly. "His mother put him on the Knight Bus and sent him here."

"What?" both twins asked in disbelief.

Draco stared up at the ceiling and swallowed, "Mama never did agree with his methods."

"But you're safe, now. Moony and Padfoot will keep you safe - no one can hurt you any more," Harry said, reaching out and talking Draco's hand. The Twins glanced at each other.

"Yes, but what about my mother?" Draco said, and they all knew it was not a question they should even attempt to answer.

Many hours later, after the other boys had left, Draco insisted upon getting out of bed and eating his soup sitting on the sofa in the living room. He was cocooned in blankets and Harry sat beside him, holding the bowl because he refused to allow anyone to feed him. Sirius and Remus watched from the kitchen doorway as they taunted each other with light put-downs and Draco threatened to throw spoonfuls of chicken soup into Harry's hair.

"Well," Remus sighed, closing the door and settling at the table, "looks like things are largely back to normal, then."

Sirius pulled up a chair to sit beside him and slid an arm around his shoulders, "Except you haven't slept, Harry knows about us, and we still don't know the story of what the dear boy got up to in the Valleys."

"You know what I mean..."

Sirius smiled and kissed his temple, "Yeah, I do. Are you okay, Moo? I know it's nearly the Full and all that - if you want to go to bed I can take care of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee."

"Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee? You should spend some time alone with Fred and George Weasley when you haven't slept! I kept expecting Steerpike to walk in at any moment!"

"Nah, they're okay, they just sort of pull together to protect each other. Fred was pretty hysterical last night... Strange, really, considering it's the other one who's such good mates with Draco..."

"Yes, well, when you've heard someone suffer the effects of Cruciatus it's difficult to maintain a level head."

"I know."

Remus sighed and leaned against the other man's shoulder. "Look, Siri, about sleeping arrangements..."

"Don't worry about that, I'll stay down here, you have my room."

"No, listen, I was going to say that we should put the boys in the same room. Harry's bedroom is big enough and we could just make up an extra bed, like we did before."

Sirius grimaced, "I dunno about that, Moo, have you actually watched those two together? I don't reckon they'd take much encouragement - you fancy playing agony aunt with that one, eh?"

"I think we can trust Harry..."

"Pfft! I think we can trust blondie more than we can trust Harry, myself," Sirius replied incredulously. "I love the kid, you know that, but I think that putting him in the same room as Draco is asking for trouble. If him and the Welsh kid are already at it..."

"I think that Gavin means more to Harry than that. I don't think he'd betray him."

"Well, if you say so..." Sirius shrugged and leaned down to kiss him. "You sure you don't want to go to bed?"

"What about you? You haven't slept either."

"I can live with it. You look like you're going to fall down if you don't just go to bed soon."

"But it's only seven o'clock..."

"And what's that? Thirty-six hours since you last slept? Go on, Moony, I'll take care of the kids."

Remus smiled at him, gratefully and stood up. Sirius followed and slid his arms around him, Remus' head resting tiredly against his shoulder. "It has been a pretty awful few days, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, but we made it. Again. Maybe we should advertise as superheroes and do kids' parties or something."

Remus laughed quietly and let go.

When Sirius climbed the stairs a couple of hours later, the boys already exhausted and arranged in their matching camp beds on Harry's floor, the doors locked and warded and the fire put out, he walked into his bedroom to find his single bed stretched almost to a double, and Remus sleeping peacefully in full pyjamas. Chuckling softly to himself, he kicked off his jeans and pulled off his jumper before climbing into the bed and curling up around him. Almost immediately, exhaustion hit him and he closed his eyes, drifting into a contented sleep.

In the room next door Harry was already fast asleep; he didn't even wake when Draco awkwardly dragged his feather mattress nearer and curled up beside him, but he reached out in his slumber and found the other boy's hand. For the first time in weeks, Draco closed his eyes and felt safe enough to sleep.

~*~

It was two days later that Draco was summoned to the headmaster's office. His bruises had largely faded, assisted by the tonics and serums Madam Pomfrey had come to the cottage to administer, or taught Remus to apply. His arm still ached, but he could use it well enough. The red mark down his face made him self-conscious. He had been assured that the scar would fade to nothing, but it still looked ugly and made him feel foolish for not having at least tried to react against his father; for not using the one thing he could do that his father couldn't and burned him to a crisp. He wasn't like George or Fred who would have worn it with heroic stoicism, and he wasn't like Harry who would have just ignored it altogether. He just hated having the reminder there every time he looked in the mirror, or caught sight of his reflection in Harry's glasses.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice said with unusual gravity when he knocked at the door. Apprehensively, Draco twisted the bronze doorknob and stepped inside. Instantly, his heart felt like it had frozen. He stood, rooted with terror, as he laid eyes on the regal form of his father, standing before the headmaster's desk. As soon as he regained control of himself he staggered back, intending to run, but Dumbledore spoke and told him to stay.

"Draco, please do not leave, we have some rather saddening news."

It was only then that Draco saw a short, fat man sitting on the pink sofa. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, was in Dumbledore's office with his father. His head swam and for a moment he thought he might faint; his chest felt as though it were being constricted and he couldn't breathe, but he stood his ground and tried to be as brave as he could.

"Draco," his father began, without turning to face him, "you are to come home at once, there has been a dreadful incident at the Manor. Your mother is dead."

Draco clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt.

"Well," Fudge said impatiently, "aren't you going to say something, boy? Your mother is dead - the poor woman threw herself off of the roof because of your frightful behaviour - attacking your father and running away in the middle of the night, indeed! I hear you have been spending time in rather... questionable company, recently. Evidently Mr Potter's inclinations have worn off on you already."

Draco wanted to say something, he really did. He wanted to scream, 'No! You killed her!' and he wanted to tell Fudge that Lucius Malfoy was a murderer, a Death Eater and a child beater, but he simply couldn't. There was a lump the size of an orange stuck in his throat and the edge of his vision was foggy and out of focus.

"Draco," Dumbledore's hushed voice said gently, "do you have anything to say?"

Draco stared at him for a few moments, feeling as though he was standing outside of himself, watching a scene in a play he didn't know the plot of, and he shook his head.

"Draco, you are to return to the Manor with me this afternoon," his father's voice said unemotionally, snapping him into reality.

"N-no," he said, backing away desperately towards the wooden door. "No, I won't!" He looked to Dumbledore imploringly, "I can't - Professor - "

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, boy," Fudge snapped. "You will return home with your father, you ungrateful child. There will be arrangements to be made; you mustn't create difficulties for your father at such a trying time."

"Cornelius, that is quite enough!" Dumbledore said sharply. "I will remind you that this is my school."

"Dumbledore, you may be headmaster of this school, but as the Minister of Magic technically, it is mine. Now, this boy will return home with his father today, I forbid you to keep him here."

"But I'm sixteen - I can stay here if I want to!"

"On the contrary, you may do so only with your father's consent, which you evidently do not have."

"But look at me!" Draco cried, gesturing to his face and pulling up a sleeve to reveal a dark line across his forearm. "He did this to me! Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater and he tried to kill me because - "

"The boy is clearly hysterical," Lucius said, shaking his head and sighing. "It is hardly surprising, considering the news he has just received, the poor child." He moved nearer to Draco and Draco backed away until he felt the solid wood of the door pressing against his spine. "Come, my boy, come home. I know that it is terribly sad, what has happened to us, but your mother was unwell, and has been for many years. Perhaps it is for the best that she has moved on. We must be strong, now. After all, all we have in this world, now, is each other."

"No," Draco choked out, shaking his head. "No, you killed her and you tried to kill me. I won't. You're one of them - you want to give me to Voldemort, that's the only reason you're here."

"Ridiculous!" Fudge snorted. "The boy is obviously as disturbed as his mother."

Lucius reached out to lay a hand on Draco's shoulder and Draco instantly engulfed himself in flames.

"Get away from me," he warned, reaching for the doorknob. "Get away from me right now."

"Draco, stop that this instant. Don't force me to restrain you; you know how awful that makes me feel."

"Liar!" Draco shouted back, "You're a murderer - you killed grandma and Lilith and now you've killed Mama, too! I hate you!" He wrenched open the door and fled down the steps, a commotion behind him delaying his father's pursuit. He burst out into the corridor and was horrified to find Harry standing there, waiting for him. "Run!" he gasped, grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him with him as the footsteps on the stairs grew closer, "My father is here!"

Immediately, Harry yanked him through a tapestry and down some stairs. "This way... this way, we can get away..."

They ran as fast as they could, the hairs on the back of their necks standing on end. There was no way they would get to the cottage - the huge expanse of lawn would expose them to any curse Lucius chose to throw at them - Gryffindor Tower had people in - they couldn't lead a psychotic Death Eater there, but there was one very risky thing that they could do. Harry led him towards South Tower. There would be only two places they could go from there. Back the way they had come, or over the edge. Certain death on the rocks below.

"Harry, where are you going?" Draco asked helplessly as Harry threw open the door to the tower and began to run up.

"We have to get to the top of the tower, Draco, trust me, we can get away from there."

"Are you mad? It's a sheer drop!" the other boy said, halting and grabbing at Harry's jumper. "We'll both be killed!"

"No we won't, come on."

"But - "

"I managed it at the Triwizard Tournament, didn't I?" Harry asked, wrenching at Draco's hand. "I'll summon my broom - it's the best chance we have - we'd never get out of the building, otherwise!"

Grey eyes stared up at him uncertainly, "You'd better hope this works, Harry," he breathed, and began to rush up the stairs again, still a little weak from his injuries.

By the time they reached the heavy wooden door to the roof they were both out of breath, their legs feeling like lead and barely able to run another step. Harry pushed open the door and led the way out on to the turreted roof, the words of the summoning charm repeating over and over in his head. His stomach plummeted. Standing near the edge, the wind picking up his pale hair, stood Lucius Malfoy. He turned, slowly, his sharp features hitched in a superior smirk, his wand already drawn and rested upon his folded arms.

"Oh dear, we are frightfully predictable for the saviour of all wizard kind, aren't we, Harry?"

Harry moved instinctively into the doorway, blocking Draco within the tower, and drew his wand. "We are frightfully up ourselves for a child-beating murderer, aren't we, Lucy?" he replied, through gritted teeth.

Lucius Malfoy laughed, a cold, terrifying sound, and suddenly, Harry found himself being tied by bonds he couldn't fight, wrapping his hands and feet together and causing him to stumble; but before he hit the floor he was floating, drifting silently to hang over the stone edge of the tower wall, suspended in mid-air above jagged rocks, hundreds of feet below.

"Well, that was rather easy," Lucius smirked, giving his wand a small twist, and causing Harry to begin to spin, whirling out of control. "What would you say, Draco? Eleven out of ten?"

Harry was beginning to feel sick. His glasses had fallen off, probably dashed to pieces on the rocks below. No 'Occulus Reparo' on them this time. All he could see was a blur of grey stone and the occasional glimpse of a pale-haired figure, he couldn't even tell which was which any more. He closed his eyes and decided he'd rather not know. He had enough to look at with his life flashing before his eyes, anyway. It made a pretty depressing movie.

"Daddy?"

Draco's voice sounded strangely distorted by the motion, but Harry clung to it, the one thing proving that he was still conscious.

"Yes, Draco?" Lucius' voice said lightly.

"Can I do it?"

"Do what, exactly?"

"Can I hurt him?"

Harry's eyes flashed open, but all he could see now were rapidly revolving clouds. Lucius laughed and Harry felt himself rise and plummet several feet.

"May I, father?"

"This is a rather sudden change of heart, Draco. I wonder what on Earth could have brought this on."

"I know, father, I'm very sorry. I just realised what I should always have known - that you will always be greater than Harry Potter. The way you captured him so quickly and cleverly, it was magnificent. I only did it for the power, father. Potter seemed invincible and you always taught me that power was All. I was only seeking the power, father, just as you taught me."

"Dear, dear, Draco - didn't you trust me?" Lucius' voice asked, and Harry felt his stomach lurch again.

"I'm sorry, father - I understand, now. I was wrong and I want to prove it. Put him down and let me show you. I need to practise my Cruciatus. Then we can take him home and show him to our Master - I think he'd be terribly pleased with us."

"Why, yes, I think he would."

"And then we can start getting ready for the ritual. You can tell me again how special it will make me to be a part of him."

Suddenly, something clicked for Harry, and he realised what he should have known straight away. "Draco!" he yelled. "Draco, please - don't do this! Don't trust him!"

He cried out as he felt a moderate electric shock zap through him.

"I suggest you shut up, Potter," Draco's voice spat, "In light of our little 'truce' I might be tempted to make this quick for you - if you beg me nicely."

Lucius' laugh echoed against the wall, reverberating for several seconds. Harry suddenly felt himself crash hard against stone and gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of him. He felt someone close by and flickered his eyes open to see a hazy image of Draco standing over him, wand raised.

"Well, then," Lucius' voice said, appraisingly, "There, you have him - show me what you can do, boy. Or were you not expecting your little trick to work quite like this?"

Draco said nothing and looked up at his father from behind his hair.

"Go on, you pathetic little fool, 'hurt him' - or me - or are you too afraid? Perhaps you need a little incentive."

Harry strained to see the expression on Draco's face and wished like never before that he still had his glasses. Lucius moved closer to his son and lay an arm around his shoulders, forcing him to look down at Harry.

"What would you say if I agreed to spare dear Harry's Life, hm?"

Draco snapped his head to the side, listening.

"Let us say that maybe, if you should could find it in your cowardly little heart to keep your promise and hurt him, I should let him go and just take you?"

"What?"

"It's really quite simple, Draco," Lucius elaborated. "You have failed me so appallingly in every test I ever set you that I am giving you one last chance to redeem yourself. This will eclipse every beast and Muggle you took pity on, every mortifying tear you shed when faced with the sort of challenge your peers in our Lord's Family would have considered nothing worse than a bee sting. Each time you failed me has been duly noted; indeed, you proved to be more pathetic, even, than any woman our family has ever seen. It's such a pity I killed your sister when clearly she would have been the one to bring honour to our name; all you have brought is shame.

"Now make your choice, hurt the boy sufficiently and let him live, or fail yet again, and die together."

There was silence for several moments. No birds sang, no wind howled around the tower; the three of them remained perfectly still, Harry bound on the floor, Lucius' arm still around Draco's shoulders.

"There is another way," Draco's voice said evenly, at last.

"Oh really?" Lucius laughed mockingly. "And what would this be?"

"I could just hurt you."

"Really? And how do you plan to do that? You barely have the nerve to speak to me. You certainly do not deserve my patience, and it is quickly wearing thin."

"You never deserved to breathe the same air as your mother or mine, but you did," Draco whispered.

Lucius gave a mock-gasp, "Oh Draco, I am wounded that you would say such a thing. Of course, neither of them are breathing at all, these days, are they? I ceased their breathing, and shortly I shall stop yours, too. It seems rather fitting that falling should herald the demise of all of you; particularly as you fell long before I pushed."

"They'll prove that you're a murderer, that way. You won't get away - there are only two ways down from here, remember?"

"Oh yes, and only one of us will be talking the less direct. It will be another suicide, of course. You were distraught at losing your mother, you poor child. I tried to stop you, I really did, but you were too quick and you threw yourself over the side... Just here, you see?" He forcibly led Draco to the edge and held him forward at what looked like a precarious angle. Harry could see Draco's arms flailing for a moment before he regained his composure and pressed them to his side. "And I shall be the anguished unfortunate who has lost his beloved wife and his treasured son in a matter of hours. It really is enough to make a grown man cry, wouldn't you agree, Draco?"

"You'll never get away with it."

"Oh, but I will!" Lucius laughed with cruel delight. "That is the very icing upon this delectable little cake of ours. I am a respected - revered - member of society, and you are just two irrational little boys. Dead ones."

"You said you wouldn't kill Harry," Draco hissed through his teeth. "But then you always were all words and no action, Daddy."

Draco gave a small cry as he was jerked forward, his knees pressed against the turret wall. Even Harry could see that all it would take is a small push and he would be gone. He felt as though his stomach was being twisted in knots.

"Dear, oh dear, Draco. So very gullible! Did you honestly believe I would let him live simply because you thought you had struck a deal? Grown ups do not make deals with children. They merely abuse their children's blind trust for them, nothing more than a means to and end. Just as I did. Do you have any final words? Perhaps a confession or a witticism? Maybe you would like to beg pathetically for your life? Or maybe you would like to profess your immortal love to our delightfully mortal friend once more?"

"I won't need to," Draco said, straightening up as much as he could in his father's grip and turning to face him, "you're the one who's taking the fast way down."

Lucius laughed, his voice arrogant and scornful, "Is that so?"

Draco looked up at him for a moment, before whispering, "Yes."

There was a flash of light and an agonised scream as Draco pulled away, leaving his father's robes engulfed in flame. The blazing figure staggered backwards, screaming and screaming the way people did when Cruciatus was put on them. Harry choked on the smell of burning hair and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see this.

He felt detached with his eyes closed, as if it wasn't real, just a collection of sounds and tricks being played on his senses. There was a scuffle and the sound of the door flying open and then the scream began to fade. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco sinking to his knees; there was no mistaking the sound of sobbing.