Invisible

Notes: Thank you to my betas: hecticity, likehottness and hint_of_mayhem. Written for the 100quills challenge.

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He didn't go looking for Malfoy when they said they couldn't find him, and he was surprised when the Slytherin's location was practically handed to him.

"You dropped this, Harry," Hermione had told him one night, the rims of her eyes red as she dropped the map onto his lap. When he was in his room again, the curtains drawn around his bed, Harry whispered half-heartedly the incantation to activate the Marauder's Map. Neatly labeled in Severus Snape's office, he saw "Draco Malfoy."

He considered just leaving Malfoy there to rot, knowing that he'd leave or be found eventually. Half of him hated Malfoy, who had let the Death Eaters in, who had been a horrid little snot for the past six years, who had been ordered to kill Dumbledore; the other half recognized that fear was an awesome thing that could warp even the strongest of resolves, and Malfoy really didn't have very much choice concerning the Death Eaters and Dumbledore.

So he didn't exactly go looking for Malfoy--he just went snooping in the ex-DADA professor's office. "Alohomora," he whispered in the darkened hallway. The door pushed open soundlessly. His footfalls seemed giant in their volume, probably because the rest of the small room was utterly still. He unfolded the map he was holding and looked. 'Severus Snape's Office' it read still, and "Draco Malfoy" was in the far corner. "Mischief managed," he said, and the map folded itself up, the words fading as he put it back into the inner pockets of his robes.

He stopped by the desk, running his hand across the mahogany surface. Then, quick as lightning, he twirled around to the right, aimed his wand at the room's empty corner, and shouted "Petrificus totalus!" He heard a sharp intake of breath and nothing more, but he knew.

It wasn't an invisibility cloak like his, because he couldn't lift it. Not really. He felt around Malfoy's body for a wand, and when he found it he stuffed it into the pocket with his map. He leaned in, and felt Malfoy's breath coming in invisible waves against his face, hot and metallic, smelling of blood. "I'm going to release you from the spell, and you're going to stay still because you're defenseless and you don't want me to get angry. Got it?" He got no answer, of course, accept for the steady invisible waves of hot air. He gripped Malfoy's collar (at least he thought that was what it was) and murmured the spell to release Malfoy from the hex.

"Potter," and that was was soft; it also dripped with hate, despair, anger, resentment and fear. "What do you want?"

This startled Harry, because he didn't really know what he wanted. Do I want anything? he asked himself. "Drop the invisibility charm, Malfoy."

"What if I don't want to?"

He half-turned and pointed his wand at the door, murmuring a "Imperturbatus." Then he aims it back at Malfoy. "Incarcerous." Malfoy, still invisible, grunted. "You didn't maintain the Cruciatus for long, did you, Malfoy?" He paused to allow the other boy to answer, but there was only silence. "You always fancied us to be rivals, didn't you? Well, let's see which one of us is better at casting unforgivables."

"Potter," Malfoy growled. "I can't take off the bloody ring. You've got me tied up, you pillock." Harry reached out blindly and felt his fingers touch something smooth and sweaty. "That's my neck, idiot."

"Shut it." He followed the path of Malfoy's neck down his shoulder, to his arm and finally, his fingers. His own fingers met cool metal, and he tugged, slipping the ring off. The air in front of him blurred and then Malfoy appeared. He pocketed the ring as well. "Why are you still here?"

"That's a stupid question if ever I've heard one, Golden Boy," Malfoy spat, wriggling to test his bonds. "Why do you think? I'm here because there's nowhere else for me to go. They've taken my father, and Merlin knows what's going to happen to my mother." His voice trembled when he mentioned his parents, but only if Harry listened really closely.

"It's your own fault, you bloody little ferret!" Harry shoved him heavily against the wall he was leaning on and heard him grunt in pain. "The only person who offered you somewhere to go is dead because of you! I should let them find you and take you to Azkaban with your father!" He emphasized his statement with another hard shove.

"Why don't you, Potter? What are you even here talking to me for, huh? Get your sodding hands off me."

Harry felt himself gripped even more firmly by the urge to hurt the Slytherin under his hands. He reached up and grabbed a handful of Malfoy's hair, tugging sharply--painfully. "I'm here," he purred, "because they'll come looking for you, Draco. Snape, the Lestranges, the werewolf, Voldemort--they'll come looking for you. To kill you, or recruit you, or save you, I don't care. You'll lead me to them." He didn't even know what he was saying as the words rolled out of him but they felt satisfying, they felt good. "And when you do, I'll give you back to them. Then I'll kill them, and kill you, and it'll be legitimate." What am I saying? he thought.

"You're crazy, Potter," Malfoy whispered. He had to admit that the other boy may well be right.