Stand By

    Harry woke with a start, his hand flying instantly to his scar. White hot fire burned through the torn skin, throbbing and aching beneath his hand. With a startled gasp, he managed to roll to his side, momentarily forgetting he was not in his bed upstairs but in the common room. He landed on the ground with a thud that echoed loudly in the empty room.

    “Potter?” A sleepy voice questioned. “What’sit?” Malfoy mumbled, rousing enough to glance at where Harry lay writhing on the floor, “Potter!”

    “Scar…” Harry cried, his voice wrought with pain.

    “Jeez!” Malfoy kneeled beside him, hesitantly glancing at the swollen scar.

    “Help…” Harry nearly sobbed. It felt as if his head was about to split in two, and he clawed desperately at the scar, leaving trails of blood where his nails broke skin. With a strangled cry, Malfoy gripped his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face.

    “I’m going to put you in a body bind, Potter,” Malfoy warned quietly, “And then I’m going to take you outside and fake I found you there. Otherwise it’ll seem suspicious.” Harry made a noise of protest, but it was nearly buried in his whimpers of pain. “This is serious, Potter. You need Pomfrey.”

    “Fine,” Harry relented through gritted teeth. Malfoy quickly cast the charm, then dragged Harry out of the common room and into the hallway.

    “Scream a bit,” Malfoy commanded, removing the charm.

    Harry instantly cried out in pain, and Malfoy winced, knowing it wasn’t because he had asked him too. A few screams later, Malfoy cried, “Potter! What the hell?” Harry looked up at him through unfocused eyes.

    A rush of footsteps from behind him assured Malfoy his plan had worked. He spun to find Professor Snape rushing towards them, his brow furrowed in confusion, “What happened?”

    “Don’t know sir,” Malfoy shrugged, “Heard him carrying on and found him out here, clutching his head.”

    “Damn,” Snape swore as he caught sight of Harry’s pulsing scar, “Get Dumbledore. I’m taking him to the infirmary.” Malfoy nodded softly, before turning and hurrying towards the headmasters office.

    Pausing in front of the stone gargoyle, Malfoy racked his brain for the password. “Um, lemon drop?” He guessed. There was no movement. “Come on! How should I know? Just open!” Malfoy growled, banging his hands against the stone.

    After a moment, he stopped, angrily spinning on his heel. He had to find another teacher, someone that knew the password. McGonagall, he thought, turning towards her classroom.

    “Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks, “Did you need something?”

    “Professor Snape needs you sir. In the infirmary,” Malfoy said dutifully.

    “Is he hurt?” Dumbledore asked urgently, fear erasing the normal twinkle of his eyes. Malfoy wondered for a moment just what Snape could have done to have gotten himself hurt. Before he could think too far, Dumbledore’s worried expression brought him back to the present.

    “No sir. It’s Potter,” Malfoy watched in fascination as Dumbledore went from relieved to terrified in less then a second, “I found him in the hall moaning and clutching his head.”

    “Oh dear,” Dumbledore sighed softly, “Thank you, Draco. You may return to what you were doing.”

    “Yes sir,” he answered.

    Dumbledore nodded distractedly at him before brushing past to hurry down the hall. Malfoy waited half a heart beat before quietly following. For being as old as he was, Dumbledore practically flew to the infirmary.

    He burst through the doors, and Malfoy slipped in behind him, ducking behind a nearby curtain.

    “How is he Severus?” Dumbledore asked. Malfoy peeked around the curtain to see Snape sitting beside one of the beds in the far corner. Harry lay under the crisp, white sheets, face pale and drawn.

    “This is the worst I’ve seen sir. He passed out a moment ago,” Snape ran a hand through his hair, “He didn’t tell me anything of the vision. He could hardly speak,” He paused, “Where is Draco?”

    “I sent him on his way,” Dumbledore said vaguely, his eyes focused on Harry.

    “Of course,” Snape nodded slightly, “Poppy ran to the library. She isn’t quite sure what to do with him.”    

    “Oh Harry,” The old man sighed suddenly, running a soft hand across the boy’s black hair, “My poor boy. What are we to do with you?” His answer was a soft whimper from Harry. Turning to Snape, Dumbledore said wearily, “Ask Poppy to give him a sleeping potion. Whatever evil doings Voldemort has managed tonight may wait till morning.”

    Snape nodded again. Dumbledore cast one last glance at Harry before turning and exiting. Quietly as he could, Malfoy snuck out from behind the curtain, ducking behind a bed beside Harry’s.

    “What are we to do with you, Potter?” Snape echoed the headmasters sighed question. In an almost caring gesture, Snape gently lifted the boy’s glasses from him, setting them on the bedside table. He stood for a moment, just staring. Then, abruptly, he spun on his heel and hurried out of the infirmary.

    When the door slammed shut behind him, Malfoy slid out from behind the bed. “Potter?” He said softly as he approached. There was no response from the pale boy. “Merlin, what is wrong with you?”

    Slowly, he raised one hand, running it hesitantly above Harry’s scar. The boy whimpered as if Malfoy had touched him, “Wake up, Potter. I need to know who was in your vision.”

    In one swift movement, Malfoy brought his fingers down against the throbbing scar, pressing it just enough to send a crashing wave of pain through Harry. As Malfoy had hoped, the pain was enough to wake the boy.

    “Infirmary?” Harry asked, throat raw from screaming as he took in his surroundings.

    “Yes,” Malfoy nodded, handing him his glasses, “Do you remember your vision?”

    Dimly, Harry nodded, “Voldemort killed a group of Muggles. Bus. That’s why it was bad attack. Too much pain. Felt it all,” The boy’s eyes fluttered, and Malfoy thought perhaps he was on the brink of passing out once more.

    “Potter?”

    “He knows about visions. Talked to me. Tried to. Asked me if I liked what I saw. Told me more would follow until I gave up. Gave me place if I want to. Otherwise, more muggles every night, bigger groups,” Harry swallowed harshly, “Need my cloak.”

    “What for?” Malfoy asked. Harry simply blinked slowly. “You’re going to give yourself up?”

    “Have to.”

    “You’re bloody insane!!” Malfoy shrieked.

    Wincing, Harry shushed him, “Do you want to bring the whole castle running?”

    “Potter, you can’t just go marching off to your death. I’ll get Dumbledore or Snape and you can tell them. Let them deal with it,” Harry eyes suddenly widened, fear making him shake softly, “What is it?”

    “He knows. Oh, Merlin. He knows about Snape!” With a soft cry, Harry threw back the blankets and stood. Malfoy was to shocked by the sudden movement to do anything but watch as Harry took an unstable step forward.

    Suddenly, the door to the infirmary flew open. Harry froze mid-step, lifting his eyes to meet those of Professor Snape. Malfoy quickly dove behind the bed, peeking around it as Snape began to speak.

    “What are you doing out of bed Mr. Potter? You are quite weak and…” Before Snape could continue, Harry cried out.

    “Voldemort knows about you!” Snape froze, his face going a sickly green.

    “Knows?” He asked softly.

    “About you being a spy. He’s pissed!” Harry sighed softly and Malfoy had to hold in a cry of surprise. His godfather, a spy for the side of good? “I’m sorry sir. You had better be careful he might…” Harry broke off with a soft cry of pain, “He’s killing again,” he managed to gasp, before collapsing.

    “Damn!” Snape swore loudly, kneeling beside Harry. He gently lifted him and lay him on the bed, “Potter, I’m going to get Dumbledore,” Snape said softly, then hurried out of the room.

    Harry roughly shoved himself to his feet. “Where are you going?” Malfoy cried, also standing.

    “I told you…have to get to Voldemort,” Harry answered through gritted teeth.

    “Are you mad?” Malfoy groaned, moving around the bed to pull Harry to a stop. “If you go, you will die, Potter. Do you understand? There will be no great escape for you this time. Voldemort knows how to defeat you now. And he will.”

    Harry turned his weary, emerald eyes up to meet Malfoy’s, “Good.” Malfoy was too shocked to stop Harry from pulling out of his grasp.

    “Potter, wait!” Malfoy called, lightly jogging to catch up with the boy.

    “Why the hell do you care, Malfoy?” Harry asked over his shoulder, never slowing, “I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

    “I…” Malfoy groaned, unsure what to say. “Damnit, if you don’t turn around right now, I am calling Snape down here!”

    “No!” That caused Harry to turn on him, eyes intense. “He’s in danger. Keep him here!”

    “And you’re not? Use you bloody head! You are going to DIE if you go.”

    “That doesn’t matter anymore! He’s killing muggles! I have to stop him!” With a sudden burst of energy, Harry sped off down the hallway. Malfoy groaned.

    “Got to find Snape,” He muttered to himself, racing back towards the infirmary. Luckily, the professor was just about to enter the infirmary. “SNAPE!” Malfoy cried, hurrying towards him.

    “Draco? What is it?” Snape looked almost fearful as Malfoy approached. It hit Malfoy that Snape would assume either he himself was in danger or Malfoy was.

    “Sir, Potter took off to find Voldemort. Said he was going to finish it. I know you‘re in danger, but he‘ll die!” Snape visibly jumped. “I was in the infirmary with him when you came in and I’m not going to tell,” Malfoy explained in a rush.

    Snape started to say something, but the word’s were lost as he suddenly groaned in pain, “I need you to go get Dumbledore,” Snape said, grasping his arm.

    “He’s calling?” Malfoy asked, the cold realization spreading through him like ice. Snape was in serious danger. He could die.

    “Please, hurry,” Snape nodded, and then nearly ran from the room.

    “Shit, shit,” Malfoy chanted under his breath, racing down the hall. The headmaster’s office had never seemed so far away. With a final burst of speed, Malfoy ran panting past the open door and into the room.    

    “Draco?” Dumbledore looked up, startled.

    “Potter…went…to…Voldemort. Said he had to finish…it. Voldemort knows…Snape’s a spy. He called. Gonna…kill…him,” He didn’t specify which him he meant.

    Dumbledore suddenly looked very, very old. Sighing he said, “Damn. Both too brave for their own good.” Turning towards the lit fireplace, he said, “Arabella Figg.”

    A beautiful, blonde witch appeared in the hearth, her hair slightly mussed and her cheeks flushed from sleep. Dumbledore appeared to have woken her, but her crystal blue eyes were sharp as she waited for him to speak.

    “Arabella, we have a situation.”

    “Sir?” The blonde’s brow furrowed.

    “Harry has gone to face Voldemort.” Arabella gasped lightly. “And I’m afraid Severus has been exposed. They are both going to meet him. We need a rescue team immediately. Contact Fletcher, Moody, Lupin, everyone, understand?”

    “Yes sir. What about…” She trailed off, catching sight of Malfoy in the corner, where he was recovering from his mad dash. “Snuffles?” She finally said with a roll of her eyes.

    “It’s best if he not know,” Dumbledore shot her a very pointed look.

    “Yes sir. We’ll apparate to Hogsmeade and be there in moments.” With a sharp nod, Dumbledore extinguished the fire and turned back to Malfoy.

    “Thank you Draco. And I ask you not mention this, to anyone.” There was a special stress on anyone and Malfoy nodded dumbly, unsure of who Dumbledore was more afraid of him talking to; his father or someone else?

    “I won’t sir,” He heard himself say, and was surprised by the certainty in his voice, “And please, bring him back,” Refusing to question which him he wanted to come back, Malfoy quickly left the room, not noticing the sad look that colored Dumbledore’s eyes as he watched the boy go.