Battle Scars

Battle Scars

The battle had been raging for six hours, and neither side seemed close to gaining an advantage. Darkness had fallen a while ago, and the rain had started not long after. It was cold and muddy, the conditions almost impossible, and bright flashes of coloured light burst out of the blanketing darkness irregularly, accompanied seconds later by screams and yells like macabre fireworks. The rain was constant and freezing, robes and hair drenched in minutes, and visibility limited to just a few meters.

It was during this brief lull in the battle that Harry Potter had struggled back to the Order of the Phoenix's lines, bleeding and shaken, crawling through the mud in the fields outside of Hogsmeade, his left leg dragging, useless. Two hours before Harry had been separated from the rest of the Order's forces and cornered by Bellatrix Lestrange. The rage that had boiled in Harry the moment he had seen the cruel and twisted features of the woman who had killed Sirius had frightened him badly... almost as much as the madness he had seen in her eyes seconds before she struck him with curse after curse.

It had only been Harry's extensive Auror training that had saved him. Before the Cruciatus Curse had sent him mad Harry had managed to croak the only curse he could think of in his pain-dulled mind. He had set Bellatrix on fire with an Unquenchable Flames curse, which devoured her from the inside. She had taken half an hour to die. Detached from the rest of the battle, Harry could do nothing save hide himself until he was sure she was dead, then retrieve his wand that had fallen from nerveless fingers and try and find his way back to safety, her dying screams still echoing in his ears.

Harry dragged himself one painful inch after another, keeping as low to the ground as he could, stopping frequently to rest, as the after-tremors from the Cruciatus attack had shaken him until he was nearly insensible. Finally, he spotted the broken down old barn the Order had been forced to use as a temporary headquarters in this sudden battle, and urged himself on faster, knowing the perimeter wizards would pick him up soon and he would be safe. For the time being. Voldemort had yet to show his face.

It took longer than Harry had anticipated for him to be spotted, still crawling laboriously through the mud.

"Harry!"

"Oh my god, it's Harry Potter!"

"Quick, get him inside."

"Get a mediwizard, hurry!"

Harry surrendered himself to them slightly involuntarily by briefly losing consciousness, but nothing could pry his wand from his desperate grip. He had dropped it once, but would not make that mistake again. He came-to to see four or five witches and wizards fussing urgently over him, mending cuts and the broken bone in his leg. They stepped back once they were finished and moved on to the next patient who required their attention, working as quickly and efficiently as their time and resources allowed. As he came back to himself fully, he found he was lying on the floor with his head propped up on a cloak as his makeshift pillow. He hurt all over and prayed that he would be spared from further seizures.

"Harry," a familiar voice said softly by his ear.

He opened his eyes again slowly, not realising they had been closed. The light hurt his eyes.

"H'mi'ne," he rasped, his face creasing as the pounding in his head escalated.

"It's all right. You're all right." She seemed close to tears, grasping his hand tightly. "Drink this now," she instructed, lifting his head and putting a chipped mug to his lips.

The potion tasted vile, but he managed to get most of it down without choking. He felt better almost immediately, and levered himself up into a sitting position against the wall, deaf to Hermione's protests.

"It was Bellatrix," he explained.

"We know," Hermione's face was pale. "We could hear your screams for ages, and then you just...stopped." Tears trickled slowly down her face, tracing lines through the dirt and mud on her cheeks. "We...I thought you were dead." Her hold on him tightened. He leaned forward and hugged her tightly, his breathing ragged.

"She's gone. She'll never trouble us again. Sirius can rest in peace."

Hermione nodded, sniffing loudly, not wanting to let go. He stroked her hair, hands still trembling, despite the potion. She broke away, wiping her cheeks on the back of one hand.

"I'd better get back to work. Rest for a bit, you need to get your strength back." She didn't need to say anymore.

Harry's expression became closed and flat.

"He's not here, is he?"

"The scouts have been looking for any Death Eater activity elsewhere, but they seem to be concentrated here. Severus was brought in a while ago, hexed from behind. I don't know if he'll ever regain consciousness. We think-" "He did it, didn't he?"

Hermione flinched at the deadness in Harry's voice, but nodded.

"I think so. We shouldn't have trusted him. I'm so sorry, Harry. He even fooled Dumbledore. Look, I have to get back. You'll be all right? Promise me you'll rest for a while."

Harry nodded, his eyes staring far off.

She sighed and squeezed his shoulder and quietly walked away. Harry was left on his own as the sounds of the battle recommenced outside. Witches and wizards were rushing out of the barn and towards the frontier. Harry levered himself off the floor and leaned briefly against the wall to steady himself. He straightened his glasses, which were remarkably undamaged in his lengthy duel with Bellatrix, and weaved his way through other injured members of the Order and their allies, heading for the front line.

She had taunted him. She had known about the blond man, how he had fooled them all. How they would all die because Harry had trusted him.

He approached the line of exhausted witches and wizards, pulled his wand from his muddy robes and stood with them. Looking along the line, he saw Dumbledore, Lupin, Hermione, at least five Weasleys, Mundungus, Moody and Tonks, among other familiar faces, all in varying stages of injury and fatigue. The battle was taking its toll on all of them, and still, Voldemort had yet to put in an appearance.

If he were to die here, Harry thought that he wouldn't care. At least it would end. But the sight of the Dark Mark hanging low over the horizon sharpened his resolve.

The Dark Mark had been shining over the darkened battlefield for hours, its green light illuminating the people below, reflecting from the numerous puddles and giving everything a sickly cast. As one, the Order advanced on the shifting figures before them in the dark.

"Together, NOW!" Moody shouted.

Wands pointing forward, they sent a wave of hexes and curses into the dark. Screams and grunts sounded, before a rush of counter curses sped towards the Order's line. Harry ducked, feeling the searing heat of a nearly successful hex, and spouted off a stream of curses in retaliation, but others alongside him were not so lucky.

Dumbledore was issuing orders for mediwizards to come and collect the wounded and the dead. Harry turned to issue a couple of counter-curses, freeing a shaken Neville from a full-body bind.

"Thanks, Harry." Neville's voice wavered.

"It's okay. You all right?"

"Yeah."

Harry nodded and went along the line, searching for Dumbledore and Moody. He found them crouched behind a wall talking hurriedly, taking a damage report from a seventh year student Harry didn't recognise.

"It's no use," he was saying. "Too many are wounded. The Healers say they can't cope, and we certainly can't go on much longer like this."

Moody agreed. "We have to do something decisive to end this. The main player hasn't even turned up. Any sign of our agents?"

The student shook his head no.

"We are not going to win this unless we win soon." Moody looked up quickly at Harry's approach; Dumbledore raised his eyes more slowly.

"Harry." He sounded relieved.

Harry nodded to both of them and the student. "Sir."

"Report, Potter," Moody growled.

"I was cut off from the rest of the Order and was cornered by Bellatrix Lestrange. We duelled, and she hit me with the Cruciatus. When I regained control of myself, I retaliated with Unquenchable Flames, and made my way back here, sir."

Moody and Dumbledore shared a look.

"Succinct as always. I'm sure you will fill us in with more depth later. Are you able to continue, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, consciously trying not to sway where he stood.

"Very well," Moody continued, oblivious to the battle continuing behind them. "Are you prepared to join with Dumbledore? I think it's time we finished this stupidity."

"Sir, are Hermione and Ron to join us too? We've practiced this repeatedly. We're much stronger together."

"Albus? Is this wise?"

"It is true that they work well together. To be frank, I do not think we have any choice. We have to eliminate this threat immediately. It has gone on for far too long already."

~*~

A few minutes later, Harry stood with Ron, Hermione, Charlie Weasley and Dumbledore. Charlie had joined them with Dumbledore's insistence, as he would provide a great deal of the power for the circle. The focus of the circle was Dumbledore, who would cast, while the others would provide the spell components.

They stood in a group around Dumbledore, readying themselves. Hermione stood with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. Ron smiled wanly at Harry, shifting his left arm painfully in its sling. Harry smiled shakily back, knowing how hard this was going to be. The last time the three of them had tried this, they had handled so much power that they couldn't bear to use magic for hours afterwards. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to use magic for a while after casting the spell, in any case.

"Are we all ready?" Dumbledore asked.

The four of them nodded, sharing a final supportive glance.

"Alastor, make ready."

"Together, ladies and gentlemen!" Moody roared, preparing the dwindling ranks of Aurors for a fresh attack. The Death Eaters swarmed through the darkness towards them.

Harry became even more aware of the rain soaking through his Auror robes, drips sliding down the back of his neck, hair plastered around his face. He was cold, tired and sick to his stomach of all the fighting. It had been going on for years, attacks on wizards and Muggles alike, but this was the first all-out battle of the second war. Voldemort hadn't even bothered to turn up. And the fresh vile taste of betrayal from one close to Harry made him squeeze his eyes shut in pain. He tried to focus on his anger as Dumbledore signalled them to begin.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Charlie spoke their incantations clearly and felt their individual spells blossom and grow. Channelling upwards, they directed their glowing tendrils to Dumbledore, who shuddered briefly, then raised his wand. Increasing their efforts, the four let the power burst from them, fighting the pain and exaltation. Dumbledore's voice rose in a crescendo and stopped. The silence seemed so loud to Harry, it was like a sudden lack of support. He staggered and closed his eyes as a sheet of cold white light burst across the skies and the silence was complete.

~*~

It was the pain that convinced Harry that he was still alive. He was lying in an awkward position, half on his back, half on his side, as if he had been thrown a great distance. He opened his eyes, (well, the one eye that would open), and tried to make sense of his position. He must have lost his glasses, for everything was out of focus. As the feeling came back in his tortured limbs, the pain intensified. His newly healed left leg was certainly broken again, judging by the angle it stuck out. The only thought that crossed his pain-addled mind was "Wow, I have two knees."

"Do us all a favour, Potter, and knock yourself unconscious again."

"W-what? Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Ten out of ten for observation," came the drawling reply. "Yes, you have a broken leg. No, you do not have two knees on that same leg."

"My glasses...?"

"Oh, here."

Harry felt something strike his chest. He felt around, then found them and put them on. They were shattered.

"Shit." He gazed stupidly at his right hand and dimly saw that he still gripped his wand. Well, at least he was still armed. He pulled off his glasses and aimed his wand at them. "Reparo."

As the spell left his lips, pain unlike any other dragged a ragged scream from his throat. He lay ashen and panting, body still tense and twisted.

"What the hell was that, Potter?"

Harry ignored him. He had forgotten that handling magic would be painful after the combined spell. He was desperately trying to remember what had happened afterwards. He remembered the beginning of the incantation and everything up until Dumbledore stopped chanting. He gave up and looked around him, eyes still watering with the vestiges of the pain.

It was dark, and still raining. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could make out that he was some twenty feet down in the ground; he could see the rim of the hole above him in the distance. His exhausted mind accepted this and his eyes moved on. He felt as if he were in limbo. His gaze scraped the scorched walls and floor of the crater and saw Malfoy lying on the ground in a similar position to himself about ten feet away.

"Potter? If you're going to die, could you at least have the consideration to do it a bit more quietly?"

"Sod off, Malfoy." It hurt to breathe. Harry thought he might have broken some ribs.

"So you are alive, then."

"No thanks to you, you Death Eater scum."

A hacking laugh choked from the other side of the hole. Harry could just see the blond man from the position he was lying in. Malfoy had pushed himself up against the blackened side of the void, and was regarding Harry with swollen eyes. He was obviously injured; Harry could just see dark patches of blood on the pale shirt he wore beneath his black robes. He couldn't, however, force himself to care.

"I'll take that as friendly banter from my ally in this All Encompassing Battle Against Evil."

"Shut your face, Malfoy," Harry spat, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"Is that any way to talk to-"

"You are no ally of mine, Draco. You betrayed the Order! You betrayed me," Harry wished his voice hadn't caught at the end of that sentence.

Draco looked like he had been about to laugh again, but he stopped and looked at Harry intently.

"I? Betrayed you?" He choked on what might have been a bitter laugh or a half sob. "I already betrayed one master, what makes you so surprised that I could do it again? Stuff you, Potter. I already think low enough of myself, I don't need a sanctimonious little prick like you, telling me-"

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, his rage almost blinding him. "I trusted you! The Order let you in because I vouched for you! Hundreds of people could be dead now because you couldn't stick with one side for long enough-"

"Shut up, Potter! You don't know what you're fucking talking about!" Draco had dragged himself over to Harry and had his hands gripping Harry's robes, shaking him, trying to make him listen. "Listen, you stupid Gryffindor bastard!"

"You attacked Snape! Your own man! He may not have been wholly good but he was always for the Order! He would never betray Dumbledore or the wizarding world! Or you!" Harry bit out between violent shakes from Draco.

"Attack Snape?" Malfoy shouted in furious disbelief. "You imbecile!"

Harry was trying desperately to fight the enraged Malfoy off. He remembered his wand and brought it in front of him to point directly at Draco's chest.

"Rictumsempra!"

Draco was flung across the floor of the crater and landed against the far was with a thud. He slipped to the ground groaning, but recovered quickly, and sat up with his own wand levelled at Harry. But he had no need to cover himself. Harry lay on the ground, writhing in agony. His mouth was open in a soundless scream; the pain was so extreme it robbed him of his voice.

"Harry, you prat," Draco muttered, shifting back across the floor to the prostrate man. "You know what that spell does." He grabbed Harry on either side of his face, to keep him still, preventing him from doing any further injury to himself. "Relax, Harry, relax. It will pass, like last time. I am not your enemy," he said firmly, after a pause. "You may irritate the hell out of me, Potter, but I'm not going to let you kill yourself and get them to think it was me,"

"Didn't...think Slytherins...knew what decency...was," Harry hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes wide and wild.

Draco barked a laugh of genuine amusement, and winced as it pulled at the wound across his ribs.

"That's not decency, Potter. That's self-preservation. You ought to try it sometime."

Harry had calmed somewhat, though his breathing sounded ragged in his throat.

"What, and stop being the selfless hero of the wizarding world?" He rolled his head from side to side in the negative, breathing out slowly. "Never happen."

Draco breathed out in mild relief. He sank down on the other side of Harry, against the fissure's wall, a hand against his aching side. Harry's eyes were now closed, his head resting against Draco's uninjured hip, although his breathing didn't sound any better.

"Harry? Harry, what the-"

Harry's body had started to tremble, and then shake violently. His teeth were drawn back in a grimace and his eyes, wide and staring now, rolled up in his head. His torso bucked, and Draco had to hold his shoulders to prevent him smashing his head on the hard, albeit muddy, floor. He looked up for a moment, praying the seizure would pass quickly, and felt the large drops of cold rain spatter on his upturned face.

"Fucking hell, Potter. You don't do things by halves, do you?"

The insensible Harry didn't answer, but the shuddering slowed until he merely trembled, as if cold. Eventually, after what seemed an age to Draco, he opened his eyes. He looked dazed and disoriented. Harry's stomach convulsed and he turned quickly away from Draco and gagged violently. He sank back against Draco, weak and aching.

"What the hell did she do to you?"

Despite his confused state, Harry knew that Draco referred to his duel with Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I-I don't remember much of it." He spoke so quietly that, close as he was, Draco had to bend closer to hear him. "She hit me with the Cruciatus Curse. I don't know what else. I couldn't think... I fought back, but she was so strong. It never hurt this much before." His cheeks were wet, and not just from the rain. "I got her, though. Sirius, I got her." He whispered the last.

Draco looked away, uncomfortable. He knew a lot about revenge. It never felt as good as you expected it to. He could imagine what it would do to a person like Harry, someone who had never killed, and the very thought of having to kill someone, even someone as evil as Voldemort, tormented him. Harry still shook.

Draco shrugged out of his over-robe, and gathering Harry close to him, spread it over them both. He cast a brief Warming Charm under the robe, noticing that its Waterproofing Charm was wearing off. He was so tired.

"Draco?" He heard Harry's voice dimly in his ear.

"Yes, Potter?"

Distance, always distance. He felt Harry sigh unhappily.

"What really happened? I-I need to know." His voice was limp and slurred.

"My father found Snape and me sending a message through the fire to Lupin. We were desperate to get it through. It was too late and we'd grown careless. It was stupid!" Draco said bitterly. "I thought I could handle him, but I was wrong. Snape and I tried to fight him; it was close quarters and neither of us thought to draw our wands. Pettigrew rushed in and hexed us both. I remember Father smiling and saying he would send me back to the Mudbloods since I was so enamoured of them, that there was no place in the new-order for a weakling such as me. He taunted me. This was nothing compared to what the Master would have done to me, and all that I could hope for was a quick death on the battlefield, for no side would trust me now.

"Lucky you found me first, eh Potter? I was lying in the mud and I could hear Lestrange torturing you. I couldn't get to you. I blacked out, then heard a, I don't know, a clap of thunder or something. The ground opened up, and I fell down here. I don't know how you got here, but it must have been at the same time. I finally came to and you were here as well."

"I'm sorry, Draco." Harry's voice was faint. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Don't be daft," Draco sniggered. "Of course you should. I would have. You were my nemesis at school-"

"I thought you were mine?"

"Right. Anyway, it's not like I suddenly gained a conscience or anything. You were fucking irritating at school. So bloody smug. You denied my friendship straight off-"

"Hold on, you were the one tried to sabotage me all the way through, like at Quidditch in our third year. And the way you tormented Hermione and Ron is inexcusable. And all that pure-blood crap!"

"I was a shit, wasn't I?"

"Yes." But Draco could hear the smile in Harry's voice.

"I meant it at the beginning, you know. But it was when my father kept asking me to do more and more repulsive things that I began to think... I just couldn't do it. I couldn't talk to Snape, and Dumbledore scared the hell out of me. Crabbe and Goyle would report anything I did to my father. The rest of my house regarded me as a leader, and I couldn't let them down. I was buggered. Granger was even more smug that you, and I couldn't force myself to go anywhere near Weasley. It had to be you."

"I couldn't believe it. I thought you had to be Ron using polyjuice to play a sick prank on me."

"You didn't have to laugh, though."

"Sorry, it was just the most ungracious, arrogant proposal I'd ever heard in my life!"

"Got your attention, though, didn't it?"

Harry laughed softly.

"It took me ages to convince Ron and Hermione you were serious. They thought you'd had me under the Imperius Curse or something."

"They always were slow."

"Hey!" Harry was indignant.

"Well, perhaps not Granger." Draco looked sidelong at Harry, but Harry was so tired he let it pass.

They were silent for a time.

"Harry, I know it was years ago, but I'm sorry about Sirius. Mother always spoke fondly of him. Well, at least she didn't curse him like she did the rest of our family. It was because of my father-"

"No." Harry put a hand on Draco's arm. "It was Voldemort who ordered it all." The blond man flinched. "I blamed myself for two years, until I realised that it was he who was to blame. He killed my parents, he killed Sirius and Hagrid, and he very nearly killed you and he still thought you were loyal then. He's nothing but a murderer. He will pay for the lives he has ruined."

Draco drew back at the sudden glint of determination in Harry's eyes.

"God, no wonder he still hasn't beaten you yet. You never give up, do you?"

Harry grinned.

"It's all part of my charm."

"Why am I talking to you, Potter?" Draco asked grumpily, after a moment. "It's not good for my reputation, you know."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "If it makes you feel any better, I can talk with you easier than I can with Ron."

"Well, of course." Draco rolled his eyes.

"How are we going to get out of here?"

"You're the resourceful Gryffindor."

"I hurt too much to move."

"Yeah, I've lost all circulation in my arm."

"Oh, sorry."

"Give over. If it really bothered me, you'd know about it."

"Yeah, right." Harry squinted as bigger raindrops fell on his face. "It's probably not safe out there right now in any case."

"It's been quiet for a while, though."

It was true, only the sound of the wind and the storm could be heard down in the fissure. It seemed the battle was long over.

"Let's wait until dawn. There's nothing we can do in any case. I can't use magic yet, and you shouldn't if you're injured. The only danger we're in right now is from either hypothermia or drowning."

Despite his light words, Harry felt a deep dread. He hoped Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Order were all right and had escaped serious injury during the night. He didn't think he could cope with any more death. He fell quiet, gripping Draco's arm.

"I just want it to end."

Draco held Harry tightly, sensing his unease. He would never admit, not even to himself, how much he had come to care for the quiet dark-haired man, or how much he admired him. It was something that remained unspoken between them, unclassified. But for both of them it was a stabilising factor, a remnant of hope, yet unsullied by the dark campaign of Voldemort.

They lay together, Harry asleep or unconscious by this time, Draco wasn't sure, until the small circle of sky far above them began to lighten in a red sultry haze. The night had changed many things, the depth to which the silent pair could not even begin to guess at this point.

Throughout the darkness and his uncertainty, Draco kept a firm grasp on the two things that yet had meaning for him, his wand and Harry, ready for whoever or whatever would discover them first.

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