Windfallen

Chapter Nine: This Was Freedom

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

There was a silence, not because there was nothing to say, but because in that silence, it was all being said. It was said the way Draco lay beside him, breathing heavily, almost nervously, in the way one arm was stretched out over Harry's shoulders, holding him there but gently, as one would hold a butterfly they feared crushing. In the way Harry's eyes were wide and fixed on Draco's face, and the way Draco could not seem to open his.

Harry finally turned his face away, until it was pressed into his folded arms, his eyes shut. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. "I'm so, so sorry."

There was a drawn out silence, a silence of a different sort, and finally, Harry peeked out of the corner of his eye at Draco. The other boy was lying very, very still, his eyes still closed as if he were afraid to look, as if he were bracing himself for a blow, one he was not sure was coming. "And why is that, Harry?" he said at last, voice nearly toneless.

"For making you think that doing that would convince me to stay."

Harry could feel Draco flinch, the shock that ran through him and caused him to pull his arm away. Letting out a sharp breath, Draco sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Because that's what that was," he said, sounding tired. "But then, what else..." he trailed off.

"What else what?"

"What else could it be? Certainly not... something... something I wanted. Or that you could want. Because things like this, with you... they're fucking currency."

"Currency?" Harry echoed uncertainly.

"Something to give out when you've done something that you feel you should be ashamed of. Something to give out for comfort when you think you've made somebody cry." Draco sneered. "Like Charlie."

Harry flinched. "This is nothing like that! How could you say that?"

Draco laughed, though it was cold and spiteful, and when he turned to look at Harry, his eyes were dark and bleak, furious and achingly empty at the same time. "Because that's all you are, Harry. This fucking empty, wasted, terrified little boy who's been convinced that he's nothing and has nothing and owes the world a thousand favors and you've run out of things to give to repay it so now you give the last thing you've got. It isn't hope or faith or heroism, you ran out of all of that and people keep coming back for more and more and more and so you give them bits of you but I don't... I don't..." The fragile control in his eyes was slipping, cracking, and Harry was terrified.

"You don't what?" he asked, shaking a bit as he crawled off the bed.

"I don't want bits of you, I want all of you and I thought I had it but I'm just like them!" The words echoed and Harry stared at Draco and tried to think of some reply to that. The control in Draco's eyes had shattered, and all of the darkness and fury had changed, grown sharper, and there was a sheen of tears there now, and hurt. That was it then, there it was. The pain that Harry had known would be there, eventually. He should have left already, then it wouldn't be there. None of this should have happened. It was his fault, Draco was shaking and nearly crying and naked and vulnerable and it was Harry's fault.

"This never should have happened," he whispered, shaking his head and swallowing heavily.

Draco got off the bed, turning very slowly to face him, his face so pale that it was nearly gray. He did not speak, and Harry started getting dressed, trembling and unwilling to look up at him.

"I've... I've got to go, Draco," he started to say. "I can't--"

He didn't get any further, because with a growl, Draco was over the bed and shoving him so hard that Harry lost his balance. He fell back, onto the bed with its twisted sheets, his head slamming against the headboard. Stunned, Harry moaned softly, but before the room even stopped spinning, Draco was pinning him down. Bracing one hand on his chest, he straddled Harry and used the other to tilt his face up, holding it there until Harry's eyes opened and stared up at him.

Leaning very, very close, Draco hissed, "You're not going anywhere." Then, before Harry could react or speak or anything, Draco stretched his arms up over his head and bound them there with a spell.

He smiled a little, though certainly not an amused smile. It was rather strained and bitter. "You can't keep me here, Draco."

"Try to leave," Draco whispered, a challenge.

Harry halfheartedly tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. "I can't."

Draco sneered, "Then reason would suggest, Potter, that I'm doing a fucking brilliant job of keeping you here."

"You can't," Harry shouted, his voice high with hysteria. "You can't, Draco, you can't, I have to go, I'm all bloody, and....and..." he was breathing quickly, hyperventilating and thrashing against the magical bonds, a sudden panic attack leaving him terrified.

Stroking his hair soothingly, Draco kissed the corner of his lips. "Close your eyes," he whispered. "It's alright. Just breathe."

"I can't..." Harry whimpered, trembling, because the image that being with Draco had served to brush from his mind like cobwebs and shadows was coming back, reminding him why he couldn't be here, couldn't be near Draco. Because anyone who was near him ended up broken and bleeding all over him and if his hands were ever stained with Draco's blood, he would die. "You have to let me go."

"Because I made you kill her for me."

Harry stilled, going cold, images of Ginny and her blood flashing through his mind. "Ginny," he whimpered. "Oh my god." He had not wanted to think of it, had not wanted to remember, and now he couldn't stop it. He was trembling and aching and scared and he had killed her and killed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and hurt Charlie, and Ron would never speak to him again and he'd failed them all and he was a fucking disease and-- "Get off me!" he shrieked, bucking and trying to twist away from Draco. His hands were still bound, but Draco, startled, scrambled off of him. "Don't touch me!" Harry sobbed, though his eyes were dry. "Don't... don't touch me."

Draco stumbled backwards, still naked, eyes wide and uncertain, stunned and hurt. "Harry I didn't mean for you... I didn't mean to make you do that," he whispered, shaking. "I-I'm sorry...."

Harry didn't hear. He closed his eyes and whimpered, breathing faster and faster now, chest heaving with his sobs. He was not thinking of Ginny any longer, or Ron, Charlie, Molly, any of them. Instead, Draco's face after he killed his own father was etched in Harry's mind, because he had caused that pain as well.

"Don't touch me," he whispered raggedly, because Draco had crept forward and brushed his fingers along Harry's shoulder, trying to calm him.

"What's happening?" It was Pansy, and Harry's eyes flew open. She was standing in the doorway, looking, as usual, pale and weak, a mere shadow of herself. "Draco, dear, put some clothes on." Despite her coolly amused words, she came up behind him and stroked his arm soothingly. "Everything's fine," she whispered. He turned his huge, shaken gaze to her and stared blankly for a moment, before swallowing and nodding.

When Draco moved to find his clothes, Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing. Pansy sat beside him on the bed and studied him in silence, before saying very gently, "Harry, stop it." She touched his bare shoulder, and he wished desperately that he'd had time to grab a shirt before Draco had tied him. As it was, he had only gotten his trousers on, though he thanked god for that. Maybe if there were less of his skin to touch, people would be safer... Though it was not rational, his mind latched onto that idea.

His eyes flew open. "Pansy," he said. "You've got to get him out. Get him away from me."

She studied his feverish face for a moment and then dismissed his words, turning to Draco. "Why is he tied?"

"He tried to leave," Draco said defiantly, dressed now and evidentially recovering from his speechlessness of a few moments before.

Sighing, Pansy turned back to Harry. "He's not alright, Draco. I think he's in shock or something."

"Why would he be in shock?" Draco snapped. "I didn't attack him... It wasn't rape, I just--"

Harry flinched and closed his eyes. Draco was not meant to sound so confused and defiantly hurt and that, too, was Harry's fault. Pansy sighed again. "Draco. I didn't say that. It probably has a lot more to do with what happened before."

"Then why won't he let me touch him?" Draco whimpered, all his defensiveness giving way to a lost loneliness that made Harry want to die.

"Get him out," he screamed, and both Pansy and Draco jumped. "I don't want to see him, get him away, oh god, please, please..."

"Draco," Pansy whispered, jumping off the bed. "Come on." She started pulling him towards the door.

"No!" Draco snapped. "I--"

"Just until he's calm. I'll talk to him. Please... he's going to hurt himself if he keeps panicking this way..."

Draco scowled but let her push him from the room, and then, after he was gone, Pansy came back to Harry's bed. He was breathing heavily, eyes wide, terrified.

"Listen to me, Potter," she said firmly. "Stop this. Whatever it is, stop it. Whatever you blame him for, it wasn't his fault. You killed her, not him. He had nothing to do with it, and blaming him for it won't fix it and won't bring her back."

"You don't understand," Harry whimpered.

"What is there to understand?" she snapped.

"I know all of that. It wasn't him. It was me. It was me, it's always me, and I can't... can't..."

"Can't what?"

He whispered, "Can't risk that it'll be him next. I destroy anything I care about."

She was silent for a long moment and then, without a word, she walked out of the room.

Harry started to cry a short while later, worried and exhausted and too terrified to sleep. He did not think he could stand to live through all of that at the Manor again, not even in his nightmares.

"Harry?" Draco called quietly from the doorway, after a short while had passed. Harry's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he did not open them.

"Go away," he said huskily.

"Shut up."

Finally, Harry looked, though it was through a haze of tears. "I don't want you in here."

"Why are you crying?" Draco came closer, looking nervously uncertain, but determined.

"I'm not. Get out." He was proud of the shaky control he had over his voice and closed his eyes again, conscious of the tear tracks down the side of his face that proved his words a lie and not caring.

When Draco gently traced them with his fingertip, however, Harry reacted instinctively and flinched, reacting violently in the only way he could. He bit Draco's hand, and Draco's eyes widened in shock. He snatched his hand back and Harry stared at him, startled.

There was a long silence, in which Draco didn't seem to know what to say. Finally, Harry whispered, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry for everything," Draco spat, his cheeks colouring as he cradled his hand and looked indignant.

"Not everything," Harry replied softly, turning his head away. He didn't know what he was thinking, or why he was acting like this, talking like this. "Not this. I mean, not you."

There was a strange pause, and Harry turned back to look at him, confused to find him looking hurt. "Not this?" Draco repeated. "Fuck you."

"No! I mean... I meant before. You. And me. That I wasn't sorry... because I..." Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Even when he tried to take back the hurt he'd caused, he ended up just multiplying it. "Just leave, okay? I can't... can't do this... I don't want... please." And then, though he tried to stop it, Harry started to cry, heavy, hiccupping sobs.

Looking stricken, Draco reached out to touch him, though his hand never made contact, only hovered uncertainly over Harry's naked chest. "Stop. Don't. I didn't mean... don't cry... Harry."

"Get out!" Harry sobbed. "Just leave me alone, stop looking at me, I don't want to see you look at me like that! I can't stand it! I can't stand looking at you!"

Stumbling back, Draco looked uncertain. "Harry..." he said, almost pleadingly.

Harry just shook his head wildly and cried. After a moment, and with one last helpless look, Draco left, and Harry only cried harder, until he fell into an exhausted and restless sleep.

***

Harry did not dream of streams of light, nor flocks of golden snitches, but in his dream, he was twirling around and around and falling to the ground, over and over again, and around him, black stars with tails of silver were falling. He woke up, dizzy and disoriented, and Draco was beside him, eyes closed, cuddled up close to him. In his sleepy state, this made perfect sense, so Harry murmured contentedly and kissed Draco's forehead, snuggling closer. He was no longer tied, but had forgotten being tied at all, so he did not question it.

Draco's eyes flew open and he stared at Harry, something like terror in his eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone. "You're awake," he said huskily. "I'll go. I meant to go. Before you woke, I mean. I mean... I'm sorry. I..." he said up.

Mumbling incoherently, Harry pulled him back until he was lying down again, and held him there. "Don't go," he whispered, closing his eyes. They were sticky and aching from tears, and he was trying to remember why.

Draco whimpered; it was so strange a sound, that Harry's eyes flew open and coherency returned with the force of a cold shower. "Make up your mind," Draco said, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Oh," Harry breathed, remembering. "I'm--"

"Sorry. I know." Draco smiled self-depreciatingly and turned onto his side, so he and Harry were face to face, his head pillowed on his arm as he studied Harry thoughtfully.

"Why am I not tied?" Harry asked.

"The bonds were cutting into your skin. I healed it while you slept."

"Thank you."

He shrugged and they were both silent, uncertain.

"Ginny..." Harry said finally, biting his lower lip.

Instantly, Draco looked wary. "What about her?"

"What happened to her?" Harry swallowed hard. "I mean, how did all of that happen?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and he didn't speak for a moment; Harry worried that he wouldn't speak at all. Finally, he said quietly, "Voldemort wanted an heir and he wanted it from her because she was already his. He claimed her in the Chamber of Secrets. So we took her and were instructed to keep her until it was convenient for him to come for her, but instead, my father fell in love with her, and she him. I did not know she was at the manor at all, she was kept in seclusion, my father and the house elves her only visitors. When Voldemort found out, which was inevitable, he was livid. That night was when I found out that she was there, because some of Voldemort's men came and they punished them both. Ginny was beaten, whipped. Voldemort wanted her to bleed for it, which is why she was such a mess when you found her. My father was punished as well... I do not know how. Anyway, when I heard of what had happened, I was furious. Reflected badly on the family, you know." He smirked a little, bitterly. "Voldemort was going to come for Ginny anyway. My father wanted to rescue her." Snorting, he shook his head, and then continued. "So I got to her first. I took her out of the manor and into the woods... I was going to kill her." He glanced at Harry and then quickly away. "I was going to kill her and leave her body there... instead, I ran into you."

Harry considered this, and what his reaction should be. Finally, he said, "You could have killed us both."

"No," Draco said, very, very quietly. "I could not kill you."

"Why?"

"For the same reason I could not let you get hit by the curse on that battlefield."

Harry's eyes widened. "You let it hit you?" He shook his head. "I saw it, Draco. You tripped. It was an accident!"

Draco grimaced. "I did not trip," he said, almost indignantly. "Stumbled, yes. I was... scared." He flinched a little and sneered at having to admit that. "In my haste to stop it, I stumbled."

"No," Harry whispered, because he refused to be responsible for that as well. "Why? You should have let it hit me!" He was panicking again, breathing faster, and Draco reacted to the hysteria in his eyes and smoothed his hair back, burying his fingers in it.

"Don't," he pleaded. "Calm down."

"But why? I'm not worth... all of this... and I would have been immune, right?"

"I didn't know the curse was contagious at the time and I certainly didn't know that you would be immune. Besides, I doubt you would have been immune to the full effects of the curse. The contagious version of it is weaker, in some ways. Had you been hit with the full force, it would have affected you."

Harry was shaking his head. "You still haven't said why," he whimpered.

"Because! How could I let Harry Potter suffer this? The nightmares and the fear and the terror and pain? I couldn't do it! I couldn't kill you and I couldn't kill her because you were holding her and I couldn't let anyone bring you pain, I couldn't do it, I could barely imagine it, alright?" Draco snapped.

Harry's eyes narrowed a little. "Because I'm Harry Potter. You couldn't kill me because I'm Harry Potter. Boy Who Lived. Hero. Fucking goddamn hero." It wasn't said angrily, just blankly. He'd always expected more from Draco, which is what had bound them together, even in Hogwarts. The idea that Draco would not spare him because of his scar.

"No," Draco said slowly. "Not because of that. Because of the way you were holding her. Like you would kill anyone who tried to take her from you. Like you'd rip them apart."

"You were afraid..."

"No," he repeated, frowning at the idea. "No. Because..." he looked at Harry helplessly. "Because... Harry... it was... I can't even explain..."

"Try."

He grimaced and thought for a moment and then said carefully, "It was because you weren't Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Because you..." He trailed off. "You weren't a hero, or a... knight in shining armor or anything like that. You were just a boy covered in mud. And... and you were there because of her. Because you cared. For her. It wasn't some self-righteous quest to prove you were a hero. Because I recognized that... desire. To tear apart anything that threatened someone I loved." He had turned away while speaking, as if unable to meet Harry's eyes, and now cleared his throat. "It's hard to explain."

There was a long silence, in which Harry was unable to look away from Draco, who had turned away and could not look at him. Finally, Harry whispered shakily, "Then I've already destroyed you."

Draco turned towards him again, eyes narrowed. "What?"

"It's my fault! The nightmares! Because of me!" he cried.

"I would have caught it anyway, soon enough." Draco shrugged. "And I'd hardly say I'm destroyed. I think..." he considered for a moment and then said, "I think seeing you suffer this curse would have destroyed me. This is nothing compared to that." He smiled, though it was strained, and took Harry's hand, holding it lightly. "But I will not let you convince yourself that this is more reason to leave before you destroy me further. Leaving me would destroy me."

Harry stared at him, breathing heavily, face sticky with tears. "You don't understand," he said. "Draco... if... if I hurt you.... make you bleed... I'll die. I've destroyed everyone... everyone who ever..." he faltered helplessly. "I didn't mean to, I... wouldn't have... I wouldn't hurt you for all the world."

"For all the world?" Draco echoed, smiling a little.

Harry studied him for a long moment, licking his lower lip nervously, somehow feeling like he was getting in over his head, confessing things he was unsure of, uncertain if he even knew how to define. He nodded slowly. "Yes," he said. "Which is why I have to go." His voice was weak with uncertainty.

"No," Draco said simply, and then he cast the binding charm again, tying one of Harry's wrists to the headboard, still holding his other hand.

***

A few days passed, and Harry remained there, bound to Draco's bed by one wrist. He grew restless, images of what had happened at the manor echoing over and over in his mind, until he could not close his eyes for fear of seeing Ginny's face again. It was not her face, or even Lucius', that haunted Harry's nightmares, however. When he slept, he dreamt of the look on Draco's face when Harry had forced him to kill his own father. It was the horror at having caused that which woke Harry, sweating and trembling in the darkness, terrified to move or breathe for fear of waking Draco. It took him so long to fall asleep at all that Harry would not wake him for the world.

Even in sleep, his body knew not to move, no matter the nightmares that plagued him, because Draco was beside him and so exhausted, that Harry could not risk waking him. He'd sleep as much as he could, until the nightmares came, and then he'd wake and hold absolutely still, gradually relaxing because Draco was there, breathing softly and curled up beside him, one arm across his chest, the other under his cheek, pillowing his face. Draco was there sleeping and not standing there staring at his father as he fell to the floor and cracked. So it was okay. And Harry would stay up all night watching over Draco, listening to his breathing and waiting for it to change and for Draco to wake and smile sleepily and then remember himself and get out of bed. Then he'd dress and go get something for Harry to eat. Harry would scowl at him and look indignant and Draco would look defiant and untie Harry long enough to let him go to the bathroom and then tie him again and leave the food beside him. Harry would eat and stare listlessly at the walls and grow more and more restless, longing to get up, find Draco, kiss him, touch him, make him laugh, or crawl up the walls onto the roof and then somehow through it, climbing through stone until he reached the sun and the sky and the fresh air and left all this behind. It was driving him mad, he could not imagine spending another day here, alone, while Draco and Pansy researched and left him with nothing more to do than to stay tied to Draco's bed and long to be anywhere else.

One particular night, it was not his own nightmares that woke him, but Draco's, because the other boy moaned in his sleep and tossed restlessly. Harry had been awake when Draco had come to bed, had watched silently while Draco kicked his shoes off and fell onto the bed beside him, too tired even to take off his robes as he usually did.

Now, awake and watching Draco's eyelids flicker with nightmare in the dimmed torchlight, Harry bit his lower lip thoughtfully. "Draco?" he whispered. The other boy didn't stir, except to flinch in his sleep.

Sliding his hand over Draco's ribs, letting his fingers graze the fabric of Draco's robes, Harry held his breath, watching Draco's face even as his hand slipped into his pocket. Curling his fingers around Draco's wand, Harry carefully pulled it out, breathing more quickly now and trying not to think of what he intended. Seconds later, he held Draco's wand in his hand, and a heartbeat later, he'd untied his wrist.

"It's for your own good," he whispered, but of course Draco did not reply. He merely moaned helplessly in his sleep, one hand slipping to the warm place Harry had left beside him.

Harry studied him a moment, and then leaned down, kissing his forehead. "I'll find you when this is all over, I promise." Then, he turned to go.

He only made to the doorway when he froze, because Draco had just whimpered in his sleep, calling for his father. Turning slowly, Harry stared in horror as Draco's lower lip trembled a little and the other boy turned onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, shoulders shaking.

"Oh god," Harry whispered, feeling ill. He could hardly walk away now, but this was his fault. What right did he really have to stay?

Still, his feet carried him back to the bed, though he knew that he would pay for his selfishness later. He had so much to pay for already, however, that he felt one more sin would hardly tip the balance.

"Shh," he whispered, crawling back onto the bed. Draco instinctively moved towards him, and Harry lay beside him, gathering him close and kissing his temple. It was not a nightmare brought on by the curse, so it was easily broken, and Draco woke, breathing heavily and confused.

"Harry?" he whispered. "What--"

"It's alright," Harry said quietly, running both hands down Draco's back. "Bad dream."

"My father--"

"I know."

There was silence. Draco was sleepy and disoriented, still frightened. He mumbled against Harry's chest when he spoke. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry kept stroking his back, eyes wide and so dry that they burned as he stared into the darkness, damning himself the longer he stayed.

"Not being stronger."

Harry smiled a little. "It's just a bad dream, Draco."

"You never have them."

"I do."

Draco scoffed softly. He was still trembling, breathing heavily. "When?" he asked.

"Nearly every night since I killed her."

Pulling away, Draco lifted his head, brushing his own hair out of his eyes. "I never knew."

"I know." There was silence. "Draco?" Harry asked finally, as Draco lay his head back on the pillow.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you kill him? Your father, I mean."

There was a thoughtful, sleepy silence, and then Draco whispered, "He hurt you and you're mine."

"Yours to hurt?"

"Mmm." Another pause. "Yes. And to protect from being hurt..." He trailed off, murmuring in his sleep and burrowing close, closing his eyes. Harry sighed and held him, waiting until Draco had fallen asleep before finding his wand again, casting the binding charm on his wrist, before dropping the wand to the floor. Draco need never know that he nearly walked away.

***

Hermione returned to the caverns the next day, pale and grim. Harry knew of her return moments before he saw her, because he could hear her screaming from the hall at Draco, and then she stormed into the room.

"Draco Malfoy," she was shouting. "I swear, I'm going to kill you! What have you done?" Then she was kneeling on the bed, stroking Harry's face gently. "Harry," she said gently. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I never would have let him take you if I'd know he'd do this. What did he do to you?"

Somehow, saying fucked me, made me love him, made me want to die but gave me something to live for all at the same time seemed the wrong answer. Instead, Harry blinked at her and then looked over her shoulder, to where Draco was scowling from the doorway. "Where's Ron?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"I brought him to my parents. They're... surviving. The Muggles are calling this whole thing Mad Cow Disease, can you imagine?" her voice sounded strained. "They're caring for him. He's quite... distraught. But I don't wish to discuss it. Let me untie you." She reached for her wand and Harry caught her wrist with his hand.

"Don't," he said softly. Then he looked back at Draco. "I need to talk to her, can you give us a minute?" he asked, gently because he knew how Draco reacted to Hermione and did not wish to make it seem he was choosing sides. With another scowl, Draco left.

"Don't?" she repeated. "Harry, you can't spend the rest of your life tied to that boy's bed."

"You don't understand," he said. "It was hard."

She let out a frustrated breath, puffing her stringy fringe up off her forehead. "I don't understand it, Harry? I watched my best friend's little sister die and spent the last three days trying to convince him he still had something to live for, even thought it was his best friend who killed--" she stopped abruptly.

Harry had closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, tried not to panic. The silence was long and nearly unbearable. "I," he said carefully, after a long moment. "Didn't mean that. I mean, this. I can't leave him."

"I didn't mean leave him! If this is some way for you to avoid any more responsibility for the things that go wrong, Harry--"

His eyes flew open and widened. "Avoid responsibility?" he echoed dumbly.

She winced. "I didn't mean it as if you were avoiding it, I just meant--"

"I know it's my fault, okay? I know that all of this was because of me! I'm not avoiding anything. I'd... I'd do anything to take it back and make it right and bring them back."

"Them?" she whispered. "Ginny and... and..."

"Lucius."

"Harry. Some people deserve to die."

"Who am I to decide who they are?" he asked. Then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not avoiding responsibility. Being tied to Draco's bed hardly seems the best way to get out of doing research, Hermione. What do you take me for?"

"Nothing is coming out the way I mean it to!" she cried. "I didn't mean it like that! Listen, Harry, I'm trying to be understanding. I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm not blaming you for what happened back there. I don't understand how you could-- I mean... I know that sometimes some things have to be sacrificed to win a war and Ginny was--"

"Shut the fuck up, Hermione," he said coldly. "I can't... can't listen to this anymore."

"I'm trying to make it better," she whimpered.

"It's not working."

She took a deep breath. "Explain to me," she said carefully, "How this is helping our cause."

"Not everything is about the cause."

"Harry. Why won't you just let me untie you so we can research and figure out how to stop this? I've got some ideas, about the Dark and Light Patronus and the sort of power necessary to project that type of magic, convert it to--"

"The thing is," he said, very carefully. "If I was not tied here, I would not be here, and Draco is not ready to let me go."

She blinked. "I don't understand."

"Everything I love gets twisted and killed and I will not let him die the way so many have, dying because of me or for me or following me into battles we were not meant to win."

"Love?" she whispered, eyes going wide.

"Draco," he told her quietly, "Is the one person I would fight this war for, the one person in the world who sees me as I am and not a means to an end, a symbol of hope and faith and all that shit I stopped believing in years ago. A hero meant to lead us all to victory, to fight battles others are too afraid to fight. I would fight for him, die for him, but I know he'll follow me because he needs me and I will not lead him into anything I cannot win and I can't beat this. I am not meant to survive this war, we've both known that, you more than me. But I won't see him die as well."

"We're going to find a way, Harry."

"I'm going to find a way. Alone. Without help. That's what heroes do."

"You said before that you couldn't do it," she said, shaken. "Let us help. We want to help. You said you wouldn't fight--"

"I said I would fight for him, and I will. But not with him. But I cannot just leave him. You don't think that I wouldn't have walked away by now, if I could?"

"Then why--"

"I guess it comes back to responsibility. He needs me, Hermione, I know it. I keep him sane, which is why he doesn't think he can let me go. To him, I represent the only form of control he has against the nightmares, which are taking his strength and his mind from him. He is terrified of losing control and that's what I am to him. I can't leave him; it will crush him. I will not be responsible for that, I can't. But I can't stay. I kill everything I love. So he has to let me go."

She was breathing heavily, eyes stinging with tears. "Because if he makes you leave, it won't be your choice and Malfoy won't be able to blame you for it."

He nodded.

"So you'll abandon us all to this curse rather than risk Malfoy's life."

"Draco is suffering the same curse as the rest of you are, and I will end it. But I will do it alone. That's what heroes do, after all. They live alone and fight alone and die alone and that's what I'll do and he will be alright because I will make sure of it."

"It's selfish," she said, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. Harry wondered if it was because he was willing to die for Draco and yet had made no similar promise for her or if she was honestly appalled that he would leave them and fight alone.

"It's the only thing I can do," he said, sounding helpless, his own eyes welling up.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "Then I'm glad he's got you tied here," she said quietly. "Because it sounds a lot like cowardice to me, and if magical ropes are what it takes to give you the courage to stay, I'm glad for them."

She turned and walked away without another word.

***

"Are you alright?"

Harry looked up; Draco was standing in the doorway, looking uncertain. "Why?"

"Granger's in a right state, threw a few books across the room and swore to hex me if I so much as said a word to her."

He grimaced. "Oh."

"What happened?" He came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"We talked. She thinks that I'm using my captivity to avoid taking responsibility for killing Ginny."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill her," he snarled, getting off the bed.

"No, Draco, wait," Harry cried, "Don't... just... let it go... She didn't mean to imply it..."

"She deserves to die."

"She said the same about your father and I defended him."

The rage in Draco's eyes slowly faded to a dull and confused darkness. He slumped back onto the bed. "Thank you," he said, after a short moment of silence. "I should get back and make sure Granger and Pansy haven't murdered each other yet."

"Don't... Don't go. Stay with me. I'm so tired but I can't sleep... please, Draco? I keep... dreaming and--"

Draco glanced at the door and then back at him, smiling ruefully. "Stay here with you or go watch Pansy rip Granger apart? Honestly, Potter, you think you can hold a candle to that?" Despite his words, Draco stretched out beside him. After a moment's hesitation, he broke the binding curse. "Promise not to leave me," he said.

Cuddling up to him, Harry murmured, "Couldn't if I wanted to."

Draco kissed him on the mouth lightly, and said, "Sleep then, Potter. I'll watch over you and wake you if you start to dream."

Harry sighed softly and obeyed.

He dreamt of strands of discordant music that flashed with pulsing colour, though only distantly. He was far removed from it, twirling again, around and around, because he was always twirling these days, spinning in manic circles, and falling with his arms outstretched. Pieces of colours, music, sound, flashed all around in alternating patterns, twisting down all around. Colours that were tiny snapshots of various things that had shaped him-- Ginny's red hair, Gryffindor's scarlet and gold, Draco's gray eyes and his own green, and the vibrant yellow of the sun. The music was snippets and whispers of memory, voices and whispers, songs and screams and then, just as he felt the twirling and dizziness had a purpose, a point, that he was about to discover what it was he was falling for, those brushes of sound making that discordant music, twisted and trembled and echoed in a gunshot. And there was Draco, in the dream, face empty of all understanding. Pale, shaken, and horrified.

It was not a nightmare, though it should have been. There was terror and hatred and regret all around, but in the dream, Harry was only distantly aware of it, of the colours of his past and maybe his future. Instead, the only thing that mattered was that it was Draco, that Draco was there, in his dreams and in his heart, as it had always been, or should have been.

And so, in the dream, when Draco's cold and empty eyes fell on Harry, it did not matter that Draco's hands were stained with his father's blood, all that mattered was Harry was there, and Draco smiled. It was that smile that made the dream worth having, made the sun come up, yellow lights burning all the strands of colour and sound into ash.

He woke when Draco shook him and called his name, smoothing his hair back and stroking his face. Still sleepy and soft, Harry mumbled in distress at having been pulled from that dream which should have been a nightmare but wasn't.

"You were dreaming," Draco whispered, kissing his ear. "Bad dream?"

"Good dream," Harry murmured, sighing softly, sleepily.

Draco looked surprised, smiling a little. "Wow," he said. "That's rare."

"Mmm." He nuzzled Draco's neck and closed his eyes, one hand slipping under Draco's shirt to press against his skin. He wondered if it was nighttime. That was one thing he'd never get used to, living in caverns the way he was. Never knowing what time it was, if the sun was up, if it was dark out.

There was a long pause, and Harry almost fell asleep again, and then Draco whispered hesitantly, "Harry?"

"What?"

"Did you mean that?"

"Mean what?" The words weren't registering so much as the soft voice was, and he smiled a little, trying to focus.

"That you would die for me."

Had Harry said that? He frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember. Draco buried his face in Harry's hair out of nervousness, and mumbled something that Harry did not catch. "What?" he asked.

"You said love."

"When? I--" He blinked. "You listened from the doorway again."

"Just... the last bit," Draco admitted. "Well, mostly. I didn't mean--"

"Shut up," Harry grumbled, thinking as quickly as his fuzzy mind would let him, trying to piece together what exactly he had said to Hermione earlier. He couldn't remember his exact words, though the sentiments were still clear enough. He tried to explain. "Everything... everything I am... all the parts that I am sure of and that make sense, are the parts that you see. And you're the only one. I thought that I was what they told me I was... and that everything else I thought I was, it was pretend. Shadows of me or what I wanted to be. But you see them. I would die for that, yeah. Because you define me the way I want to be defined. Does that make sense?" He lifted his head and looked at Draco imploringly.

Draco considered for a moment and then nodded. "It isn't love, you know," he said, firmly and gently.

"It isn't?"

"No."

Harry smiled. "I know. Love is... fluffy bunnies and... lollipops. Maybe candy floss. And flowers. And sunrises. Sunlight. And..." he trailed off, sighing sleepily, nuzzling close again. "And chocolate kisses. All good things."

Draco smiled against his temple. "And this is?"

"Hatred and terror and insanity," Harry replied without thought. "Everything dark and scary. Good-bye kisses and bloodstained hands."

There was a strange, thoughtful silence. Draco had no reply for Harry's husky words, no denial and no agreement he'd risk confessing, and then Harry fell asleep, Draco's arms wrapped around him, cradling him protectively.

***

It took three days for the strange, dark sort of paradise that Harry had allowed himself to exist in to fall apart at the seams. It would not seem heaven to most, this being kept against his will. Draco had bound him by one wrist again, but it was not the captivity that was heaven, it was that Draco would come so often to check on him, to bring him food and sometimes to insist on feeding him, though not because Harry was incapable of doing it himself. So Draco would slip pears and plums into Harry's mouth and Harry would pretend to protest and Draco would look indignantly offended until Harry let him do it. And then Draco would lie beside him and talk with him about anything except the war or the curse or anything of that nature. And sometimes Draco's curse would come upon him and Draco would curl up beside Harry with his eyes closed, trembling until the terror passed. Other times, Draco would watch over Harry while Harry slept, and always, the last thing he saw before he fell asleep, would be Draco's face, and Harry could not imagine a better heaven than that.

It fell apart though, because no sort of Eden lasts forever.

Harry was asleep when it fell apart. One moment, dreaming of inconsequential things, the next, Draco was on the bed, calling his name and shaking him roughly.

"Up. Wake up, Potter. Now. Get up."

"What's happening?" Harry asked sleepily, reaching for his glasses with his free hand.

"We're going out."

He blinked. "Out where?"

"Shut up, it doesn't matter, just out. To see the sunrise. Yeah. That's where we're going."

Harry didn't believe him, but it only took one look at Draco's pale, pinched face to convince him not to question him further. "Alright," he said, getting out of bed. "I need some clothes or a jumper or..."

"Hold on." Draco threw the chest open and rummaged quickly, pulling out a jumper and tossing it to Harry. "Hurry."

"How long will we be? Does Hermione know?"

"Granger," he snarled, going cold. "Does not know a thing and nor will she."

"If we're going to be long, I should say good-bye." Harry didn't understand, was growing more and more worried. What if Draco had finally lost his mind to the curse?

Draco shook his head. "Just hurry."

He bit his lip and wanted to argue, but when Draco turned and walked away, Harry sighed and followed.

They went deeper into the caverns than Harry had ever been before, down twisting corridors, Draco's wand glowing brightly, the only thing holding the shadows at bay.

Harry didn't speak, and Draco didn't explain. He looked grim and kept glancing over his shoulder behind them, as if expecting to be chased. Finally, Harry felt a brush of fresh air against his face and, a moment later, they were standing on a rocky ledge on the side of a steep cliff. It was a dark, clear night, about to give way to the dawn, and Harry swallowed hard, staring at the rolling hills that spilt out before him and disappeared into darkness far in the distance. He'd missed large spaces like this, missed the enormity of they sky.

"Come on," Draco said quietly. "I've only got one broomstick."

"Flying?" Harry breathed, his breath catching. He'd missed the freedom of that more than anything.

There was a broomstick leaning against the wall of the cavern, just inside the opening. "It's mine. I left it the last time my father and I had to stay here. We've got to go, Harry."

"Why?"

"Does it matter? It's what you wanted. Get on behind me."

He did, though it was awkward and he was nervous. Still, he trusted Draco completely, and seconds later, as they took off into the sky, he leaned against him, shivering from the chill in the night.

If he closed his eyes and forgot everything he was afraid of at that moment, everything he didn't understand, then the entire world consisted of his arms around Draco's body, the sky and stars all around them, and the earth far below. Nothing could touch them here. So he did.

Eyes closed, he breathed deeply and hoped with all his heart that he wasn't wrong to trust in this.

The sun was coming up; Harry was only aware of this because of the warm lights that danced on his closed eyelids, and so he opened them, squinting at the sun as it started to rise over the eastern horizon. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder and tightened his arms around him.

His lips felt chapped from the wind and the cold. "Draco?" he whispered, voice a little hoarse.

"Almost there."

"Almost where?"

"As far away from there as I can imagine taking you."

Despite how much he tried begging for more information, Draco wouldn't give it, and soon enough, they landed.

Harry stumbled a little, legs unused to the firm ground, and Draco watched him, eyes wide and guarded.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, glancing about and then up at the sky. He felt like spinning in mad circles until dizziness took him and sent him crashing to the grass under his feet. Instead, he turned back to Draco, swallowing hard, because something wasn't right.

Draco let out a shaky breath and reached into his pocket, pulling out Harry's wand. "Here," he said. Harry took it automatically, his brow wrinkling in confusion. Unable to meet his gaze, Draco pointed off into the distance and said, "If you walk that way for about twenty minutes, you'll get to Hogsmeade. From there, you can Floo anywhere in the world you want to go."

The earth shifted a little under Harry's feet. "What?" he whispered, stunned.

Draco closed his eyes. "And I'd suggest you get as far away from me as you can."

He stumbled back a little. "Draco."

Shaking his head and choking back a strange sound, Draco kept talking, voice low and nearly breaking. "You wanted to get away, Harry, here's your chance." Finally, his eyes opened, looking bleak and dark.

"I don't want to leave you," Harry said softly, though he had been saying since the incident at the manor that all he wanted to do was leave.

Draco swallowed heavily, and a light breeze brushed his hair into his eyes. Pushing it back, he said thickly, "Trust me, Harry, if you don't go, you'll regret it. There are some things that I will not sacrifice for anything, and you're one of them, and if you don't...leave...I... I refuse to use you the way they have. So go, and hurry." Draco bit his lip and looked uncertain. "I'll come for you," he said finally. "When this is all over. I'll find you."

"You will?" Harry whispered huskily, forcing himself to breathe. It was getting harder and harder.

"Course I will," Draco scoffed, though it was gentle and aching.

He didn't understand, but at the same time, he did. Maybe not specifically what had happened to drive Draco to this, to convince Draco that the only option was to let him go, but he understood the need to push what you cared about so far away, that your own curses would not bring them down with you.

Harry would always remember him that way, standing alone and so thin, with dark, empty eyes, bruised and vulnerable and letting go of the one thing he felt could save him. Harry wondered about Pansy's definition of Slytherin then, and finally understood. This was what they were meant to save. Not snide, evil, calculating Malfoys, but those who would give up anything for love. Empty, reluctant heroes, burning too brightly and waiting to die.

He tried to speak but no words would come.

Draco smiled at him, a half-mad, all-wild, and somehow gentle smile, and then he turned to go.

Still, the words would not come.

Instead, he blindly reached out and grabbed Draco's wrist, a low sob caught in his throat. Draco turned back, his eyes burning with tears and, without even questioning it, pulled Harry to him and kissed him hard, desperately. It tasted of tears that no one had cried yet though that Harry knew he would, as soon as this was over and Draco was gone.

But the kiss was fragile and bittersweet, lingering the way none of their other kisses ever had, because as soon as it was over, they both know that everything else was as well. It ended, though, with a few softer, sweeter kisses, on the corner of Draco's lips and on Harry's cheek and then Draco's neck and Harry's ear and then they were closer than before, clinging to one another, in a hug that was more out of a desperate need to hold on than out of a desire to say good-bye.

There were no words, and Harry kept his eyes tightly shut after Draco pulled away. The silence was broken only by a soft breath of wind as Draco flew away, leaving Harry standing alone.

Finally, when Draco was too far gone to hear, Harry let out a low, painful whimper. "Wait..." But Draco didn't, and maybe it was for the best.

He glanced around, feeling incredibly uncertain and alone, more than ever. It was freedom, more freedom than he'd ever had, but Harry didn't know what to do with it. There was no one waiting for him to save them, he'd already let everyone in the world down.

With his heart in his throat, his eyes wide and burning, hands trembling, Harry took one faltering step and then another. Hesitantly, he made his way down the grassy hill Draco had left him on, and into the field of wheat that wound around it. He felt very small and yet somehow powerful.

This, this was freedom. It was huge and wild and awkward, but it was freedom.

It went to his head, even as tears ran from his eyes, and he longed to turn and run the other way, back into Draco's arms.