Where Will You Go

Chapter 2-Escape

But where will you go?

With no one left to save you from yourself,

You can’t escape…

…You can’t escape

    The Gryffindor captain held his nose as he entered the changing rooms before Quidditch practice.

    “Ugh…how many times do I have to remind the lot of you to clean up after yourselves? Do any of you wash your clothes? It smells like sweat and old socks.”

    “Yea,” Ron chimed in, “Dobby would have a field day in here.”

    Ever since Harry became captain, the Gryffindor team hadn’t lost a match. He was tough on the practice schedules and a great motivator. Some even said he was better than Oliver Wood, and Wood had valued Quidditch more than life itself. He had a tight plan for this day in particular, with the Cup only a few wins away and a big match that Saturday.

    The team changed quickly, and practice began. Harry mounted his Nebula 500 and zipped off into the sky. The new broom had been a present from Sirius, before he had fled. Harry hadn’t heard from him in months.

    He flew around the pitch, practicing the Wronski Feint and the famous Potter back flip. Well, it was famous to him. He zoomed past the Slytherin stands, and slowed to a hover as a voice called his name.

    Draco sat staring up at Harry from the stands.

    “Get out, Malfoy. Other captains aren’t allowed to watch practices and you know that.”

    “It’s not Quidditch I'm here for, Potter,” the blonde sneered. “It’s you.”

    Harry looked at him in surprise. “Wait.”

    Harry flew over to Ron and told him to take over practice. With no further explanation, Harry headed back to Draco and landed beside him.

    “Let’s walk,” Harry suggested.

    After strolling in complete silence, the boys made it to the shores of the lake. They sat on the huge rocks that looked over the shimmering waters. Draco sighed. Harry looked at him questionably. Draco glanced over and smirked at him, before turning back to watching the setting sun.

    Harry stared at the boy’s face. His cold grey eyes were fixated on the orange sky, and Harry could see the reflection of the waters in the cloudy orbs. Harry’s eyes fell to Draco’s ivory white cheeks, his pointed nose, his pink mouth. He looked like a statue. Harry had never noticed how flawless Draco’s skin was, how shiny his blonde hair was, slicked against his head. Then again, there wasn’t much to notice when you were exchanging insults and spells from across the room.

    Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The sounds of the wind in the trees and the lake water lapping at the shore made him tired, and he quickly dozed off.

* * *

    “Never close your eyes, Potter. You never know what will be waiting for you when you open them.”

    Draco’s voice brought Harry back from his nap. The sky was dark, and it took Harry’s eyes some time to adjust to the dim world, and the wand pointed between his eyes. He looked up in confusion at Draco’s face.

    “You never told me why you came to see me.”

    Draco’s expression faded from the usual smug Malfoy smirk to a look of despair. His already pale face whitened even more. The wand dropped away from Harry’s face, and the blonde stared, biting his lip indecisively.

    Harry watched Draco with a worried interest. Was this not his enemy? Was he not the person who had made his, Hermione and Ron’s lives hell for six long years? What was he doing coming to him?

    “What’s happened to you, Malfoy?”

    Draco looked at him nervously, and reluctantly reached for his sleeve, slowly rolling it up. Harry didn’t need to see what was there; he had the sickening feeling he already knew. He grabbed Draco’s wrist, stopping him from continuing.

    Hurt eyes.

    “They made me, Harry.”

    Harry. His name sounded foreign on the tongue of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy. What a façade. Harry’s eye’s searched Draco’s. The icy grey seemed to melt, and Harry saw a trapped, scared child deep in the recesses of his enemy’s eyes.

    “What do I do? I can't be my father. I can't be a Rookwood, a Lestrange, a Rosier. I'm not them. I thought I was, but I'm not.”

    “Draco, the war’s been over. Voldemort’s gone-”

    Draco laughed in disgust. “Where do you think I got this mark? Not from my father. Voldemort is hardly gone. He is still alive, as are his Death Eater friends. Nothing’s changed, Potter. Nothing.”

    “I’ll fight it. I swear, I’ll fight it again,” softly, “We- we can fight it…Draco.” A chill ran over Harry as he whispered the boy’s name.

    Draco looked back at him sympathetically. “They’ll kill you. Like they killed Weasley… and Cedric…and everyone else who stood in their way. Don’t think for an instant they won’t.”

    Harry’s heart ached at the mention of his lost friends. Emotions flooded his mind. “Its late,” Harry’s eyes were distant, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “I’m cold. Let’s talk inside?”

Chapter 3- Hidden Cries

You think that I can’t see right through your eyes,

Scared to death to face reality.

No one seems to hear your hidden cries,

You’re left to face yourself alone.

    Harry pulled the curtains to his bed closed. He had managed to sneak Draco in. The Gryffindors in his room were too tired from Quidditch practice to wake. He turned to the pale boy sitting on his bed. Weird. He thought. Definitely weird. Draco looked out of touch. He stared into space. Harry watched him. When had the self sufficient, conceited git of a Slytherin become so broken? He turned away, the sight of Draco looking so disturbed made him uneasy. He stepped out of the enclosed bed and changed into night clothes.

    “Well, get comfortable,” Harry suggested as he headed back in, but Draco was already curled into a ball, fast asleep. Harry uncomfortably crawled into his bed next to the sleeping disaster, and tried to fall asleep.

    Draco talked in his sleep. Harry lay awake wide-eyed at the things he heard. The boy was reliving conversations with Lucius, talks with Voldemort, Death Eater meetings. Harry heard his thoughts, watched his face contort with pain every time a muggle was lifted and thrown into a wall. After hours of learning of the ways Voldemort planned to take over, rid the world of mudbloods, and even how to kill Harry himself, the raven haired boy touched his wand to Draco’s forehead, muttering a spell for a dreamless sleep. The boy rolled over in his sleep and relaxed.

    His arm fell to his side, and Harry could see the Dark Mark glowing brightly through his sleeve. Harry crept out of the bed and to the common room. He sat in front of the fire and watched the flames dance until he fell asleep.

* * *

    “What did I tell you about closing your eyes, Potter?”

    Harry opened his eyes to meet twinkling grey ones. Draco had him pinned to the chair, wand in his face again.

    Harry laughed and threw him off. Realizing where they were, he looked around nervously. “Umm… what if someone finds you?”

    “They won’t.” Draco pulled Harry’s invisibility cloak over his shoulders, so only his head was exposed.

    “How did you…” Harry let it go. If Draco wanted to look through his stuff then whatever. “Umm…You do realize we can't go marching out of my common room like we’ve just had a merry little sleepover. You have to pretend to hate me.”

    “Pretend?” Draco said smugly. Harry swung at him.

    They headed to breakfast, staging a confrontation at the top of the stairs. The students who were beginning to filter into the Great Hall looked up at them expectedly, watching as they swung at each other’s heads. Draco’s fist contacted with Harry’s chin. Harry put him in a headlock and gave him a shove in the direction of the stairs, causing him to fall and roll down quite a few. Harry smugly passed him, and whispered “Nice show” out of the corner of his mouth. Draco silently laughed to himself as he dusted off his robes. It was a good start.

    In the Great Hall, the mood was not so jolly. The Slytherins didn’t want Draco to sit with them after what had happened the day before. He was outraged. Pansy looked at him and burst into tears. The younger girls looked at each other, torn between ogling at his beauty or sticking with their house’s plot to ignore him. Draco grabbed some food off of each of their plates and headed to the dungeons to be alone.

    Harry rolled his eyes, and lost himself in thought, trying to figure out what to do with the crazy Draco Malfoy.

    “Harry,” Ron’s voice interrupted him. “Where’d you go yesterday? We had a great practice. Ginny needed to ask you about her broom though. It’s rather funny actually. She dropped it and it started zipping around the courtyard after practice. Flew right past Parkinson’s face, almost whacked her good…Snape’s face was classic! But poor Ginny, the thing is acting crazy. It won’t turn right, it dives at nothing…are you listening to me?”

    “What? Yea of course.” Harry gazed off in the direction of the door, waiting for Draco to come back.

    “What’s with you?” Ron asked angrily.

    Hermione looked up from her books, a nervous expression on her face. Harry met her eyes, and she blushed. Within seconds her nose was buried in her book about Animangi. He wondered what she was being so weird about.

    “I'm sorry, Ron, I’ll check out Ginny’s broom as soon as I can. I have to go, I’ll see you both in Muggle Studies.”

    Harry ran out of the room, his eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of Draco. Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him behind a statue of Godric Gryffindor. Hermione’s searching eyes bore into his.

    “What are you thinking? Letting Malfoy into the common room? And in your bed no-less? Are you crazy?!”

    Harry’s heart sunk. “Listen, I can explain, come with me, I don’t want anyone to hear.”

    The two walked down to the courtyard, and Harry explained everything, from the Dark Mark, to Draco’s eyes, to the horrible dreams he had overheard. Hermoine was shocked. “And all this time… I thought he was one of them.”

    “I did too. But now he needs our help. If this gets out, anything, his life is in danger. And Voldemort. We have to find something. Draco said something about weaknesses in his sleep. Voldemort has a weakness that can take him completely out of the picture. We have to find it.” Harry’s eyes were distant.

    “I have an idea,” Hermione said softly. “He has to stay with you though, overnight. I’m sure I can get the secret. Remember Rita Skeeter? Her Quik Quills pen? I have it. I can enchant it to piece together these dreams of his, I’m sure of it. Just make sure Malfoy is in your bed tonight…” she blushed. “However you can get him in there, do it.”

    Harry laughed. “I don’t think I'm that desperate yet, ‘Mione. But I’ll do what I have to.” She grimaced, and he winked at her. “Meet me after dinner tonight in the common room. I’ll make sure he’s there. Thanks! I owe you one! Again.”

    Harry kissed her forehead, a tradition from when they had gone out the previous year. She was with Ron now, and it was about time. Everyone knew it would happen eventually. She was happy with the red-haired goofball. He was the humor she needed, and she was the comfort he craved, especially after Percy’s death. The bushy-haired girl touched where he kissed her gently, watching Harry leave with a sentimental twinge in her heart.