Home is where the heart is

Home is Where the Heart Is

Chapter Twenty-Two - When Reality Becomes Blurred

Draco sat in an empty classroom and took a few deep, calming breaths. He decided he was completely screwed. The entire school had seen him save Harry Potter from certain death. A Slytherin saving a Gryffindor. He would never live this down.

What would happen when Voldemort found out? When Lucius found out? Something like this would eventually get back to his father, and then he would have to make up an explanation. And somehow, he had a feeling that it would have to be a damn good excuse to save him this time.

The castle was generally in a state of excitement. The first Quidditch match of the season had ended in disaster - and surprise. All over Hogwarts, people were discussing in whispers over the peculiar rescue of Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker. Who would have thought? Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Seeker and long-time nemesis of Potter...was something of a hero.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were standing outside the hospital wing and clamouring to go inside. However, Madam Pomfrey was unmovable, barring the open door. "I'm sorry," she said firmly. "Only teachers and the Headmaster may enter. When he wakes up, I'll tell him you were here."

"But miss, please-" Ron started, but was interrupted by the clearing of someone's throat.

"Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said kindly, from behind Madam Pomfrey. The matron quickly stood aside to let him speak with the two frantic Gryffindors. "Harry is unconscious - and we are loathe to wake him with Enervate. We don't know when he will wake. It wouldn't do him any good to stay."

"But Professor, he's our friend, we have to see him!" cried Hermione.

Dumbledore shook his head. "You can put your heads in and see him quickly, but I ask of you to leave straight after." Eagerly, Ron and Hermione peeked in and saw Harry lying in one of the far-corner beds, mostly covered by his blankets. Remus and Danielle were sitting with him. A huge black dog was lying on the floor beside the bed, head on paws.

"You needn't fear, Harry is well looked after," said Dumbledore, following their gaze. Most unwillingly, Hermione and Ron turned away and stepped away from the door.

"You will tell us when he's awake, won't you?" Ron asked Professor Dumbledore. He smiled.

"Of course."

Mildly satisfied with this, he and Hermione bid the headmaster goodbye and gloomily trudged off in the direction of the Common room. "Rotten luck, though - first game of the season - and this sort of thing happens," Ron said, subdued. He appeared weary.

"What I can't understand is how Harry didn't see that Bludger coming," Hermione said for the hundredth time. "Usually his senses are so sharp..."

Ron paused at the entrance to the Gryffindor Common room. "You don't think it was enchanted, do you?"

"Oh, no. It's just odd."

"I'll bet it was Malfoy," Ron said suddenly. "He and Harry were flying so close, Malfoy probably threw off his concentration."

"He could have," Hermione said helplessly. "But you have to remember, there's the environment aspect to consider, and if Harry wasn't feeling his best, and-"

The portrait swung open, and Fred Weasley stuck his head outside. "Oh, there you are," he said, eyeing them curiously. "What're you doing? We're all here - did you see Harry?"

They both shook their heads. Fred sighed noisily. "Better come inside before a Slytherin comes past and tries to hex you," he said darkly. "There'd better be a rematch, or holy hell is going to break loose."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance, before scrambling through the portrait hole after Fred.

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When Harry woke up, the blurry faces of Sirius, Remus and Danielle surrounded him. "What happened?" he groaned, squinting up at them. He felt like he'd been pounded with a sledgehammer. His right shoulder bandaged, and a swelling above his left eye, Harry wished that he could fall back into unconsciousness. Wincing, he attempted to sit up, and was quickly helped into a comfortable, upright position by Remus. His glasses and wand were placed on the bedside table. Relieved, Harry reached for his surprisingly intact glasses and put them on. The world came into proper focus.

Relief washed over Sirius' anxious face. "You were hit by a Bludger," he informed Harry.

So that was why he felt so pounded. But then he recalled a fleeting image of the ground rushing up towards him, and Harry blanched. "I fell!"

From behind Remus and Sirius, Danielle's face appeared slightly ashen. "Damn right you did, and I am never letting you on a broomstick in front of me again," she swore. "Not after that. Quidditch! Stupid, dangerous, deadly, egotistical sport that-"

"Danielle." Remus said quietly. Reluctantly, she fell silent.

"But - how did I stop?" Harry asked, looking from each of them feverishly. "Was it Dumbledore again?"

"What do you mean again?" Danielle demanded.

Sirius didn't quite meet Harry's eyes. "No, Dumbledore wasn't expecting you to get hit."

"Who would? After all, it's only played fifty feet in the air!" came a mutter from somewhere in Danielle's direction.

It was Remus who answered his question. "Draco Malfoy caught you before you hit the ground," he explained. "Nobody else would have reached you in time...it happened so fast, it was so unexpected...."

Harry paled. "Malfoy?"

"Yes, it was Draco who caught you," said a voice. Dumbledore had entered the hospital wing, accompanied by a surly-looking Draco, who appeared none-the-happier to see Harry.

Sirius started. "Dumbledore, what are you-"

"He already knows who you are," Dumbledore said calmly. "That is correct, isn't it, Draco?" he asked, turning to the naturally pale Slytherin. Scowling, Draco didn't look at Dumbledore, but nodded. He recognised the voice of the man who had spoken with Rivendale.

So this is the famous Sirius Black.

"How?" asked Sirius, eyeing Draco suspiciously. Draco, in return, challenged him with a glare.

Dumbledore appeared mildly curious. "I'm not entirely sure...but I believe that Professor Rivendale may have an idea."

All eyes turned to Danielle, who looked a little uncomfortable. She remembered, all too clearly, the pain-stricken state which she had discovered Draco, after her talk with Sirius. But looking at his face, Danielle saw apprehension and a hint of fear. It would be a severe blow of humiliation, to reveal his moment of weakness. Especially in front of people he disliked so much.

"Draco was behind the curtain during our conversation, Sirius," she said aloud. "I'm only guessing that he may have been awake and heard us."

Sirius' expression became pained. "We should have been more careful."

"Bit late now, though, isn't it?" Danielle added ruefully.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Draco considered the idea of hurling himself out a window, but then decided that it would do little to help the situation. Until Harry, his eyes firmly fixed on Draco, said softly but clearly, "Why did you do it?"

Everyone's eyes shifted to Draco, who desperately wished that he could just sink into the ground. Harry stared at him with a completely perplexed expression. Why had he done it? Draco had no answer. He just stood there in silence, gob smacked, trying to think of something to say. An impulse? A whim? Why had he saved the one person he despised more than anyone else?

The seconds ticked past. Dumbledore watched him expectantly. Black, Lupin and Rivendale appeared to be holding their breath, as tense as he was. Finally, Draco raised his head and looked at Harry directly in the eyes. "You know what, Potter? I haven't got a clue."

Harry blinked. He hadn't been expecting honesty. Glancing at Sirius, who was frowning at Draco in a very untrusting manner, he straightened as best he could. "What are you going to do now?" he asked Draco coldly. "Tell the whole school that Sirius is here? Cause a mass panic?"

Draco opened his mouth to shoot a scathing reply, but Professor Dumbledore got in first. "That is not going to happen," he said. "I believe that it is time to tell you all the truth. If we are all somewhat allied, then it is best that we form certain bonds of trust."

"Trust?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry is an unofficial member of the Order of Phoenix."

Draco's jaw dropped. Harry looked horrified. "Professor! You can't tell hi-"

"I just did, Harry. Just as I am going to tell you that Draco is a Death Eater."

There was a split second of frozen silence. Before Harry lunged at his wand, which was sitting on the bedside table. "You-"

Draco tensed and got ready to dive behind a hospital bed. Things might have gone for the worse, if Sirius had not intervened. "No, Harry!" he yelled, gripping Harry's wand arm tightly so that Harry couldn't raise it to curse Draco. "Let Dumbledore finish!" Harry struggled, but he was too weak against Sirius' iron hold. He ceased to struggle, but glowered at Draco furiously.

"I knew it!"

"No doubt you did, Potter, as you seem to know everything," Draco sneered.

"Silence," Dumbledore said sternly. There was a steely tone in his normally jovial voice. "If you both cannot conduct a civil conversation, I will be forced to place you both under Petrificus Totalus and then attempt to continue. Do I make myself clear?"

Both boys looked away. "Yes sir," Harry said tightly, after a long pause.

Draco scowled. "Yes sir."

"Good." Blue eyes keenly examined them both, before Dumbledore relaxed. "I know that this is a shock, Harry, but Draco is not just a Death Eater. He is also a spy for us."

"What?" exclaimed Harry, Sirius, and Remus. Danielle didn't say anything. Somehow, she had known that Draco couldn't be all bad. There was something there, despite his cold and rigid upbringing. Draco didn't offer any comments, but just stood still, grey eyes emotionless.

"You mean, like Snape?" Sirius asked, looking a bit disbelieving. "But he's just a kid!"

"Thanks," Draco said acidly.

"So is Harry," Dumbledore pointed out softly. "And yet he displays more courage than most adult wizards and witches." Harry coloured from the compliment; Draco turned away and rolled his eyes in distain.

"That may be true, but are you certain that it is - wise - to entrust Draco with a task like that?" Remus asked, reasonable. "If Voldemort decided to interrogate Draco..."

"He doesn't suspect me," Draco interrupted coldly. "I've been known to hate Mudbloods and Muggles my whole life. I'm my father's son. That's all he needs to know."

Silence.

"You don't have to be, you know," Sirius said quietly.

Draco jerked his head in Sirius' direction. "What?"

"Just because Lucius is your father, doesn't mean that you have to be him."

Draco recoiled sharply. "Don't think you know anything about me," he hissed. "I didn't come up here to be lectured by somebody who's spent most of his adult life in prison."

"Don't talk to Sirius like that!" Harry said furiously.

"Enough." Dumbledore appeared to be losing his patience. "I warned you both. One more outburst and I will have to take serious action."

Harry and Draco exchanged a glare that, if it was possible, could have melted a stone gargoyle into a runny puddle of goo.

"You are both on the same side. You live in the same castle, you take classes together, you play Quidditch against each other-"

Harry grimaced.

"-and you are now fighting together. It is time to put aside old differences and move on. This requires a certain amount of common courtesy toward each other. Will you not, at least, try to co-operate?" Everybody in the room heard a final pleading note in Dumbledore's words. He looked faintly exhausted.

Guiltily, Harry glanced at Sirius and Remus. They both shifted, uncomfortable. Danielle stood against a wall, her arms crossed. Oddly enough, she offered no comment. Dumbledore has done so much for me, Harry thought, locking gazes with Draco. It's the least I should do. Even if it means associating with a Malfoy.

"Fine,' he said aloud. "I want to talk to Malfoy, alone."

Surprise flitted across Draco's face for a split second, before it was replaced with his customary mask.

Dumbledore seemed relieved. "Ah, good. I think we should leave them some privacy...agreed?"

Nodding, Remus and Danielle followed the elderly man to the door. Sirius scrutinised Harry and Draco intently. "Don't strain yourself," he advised Harry. Then he frowned at Draco. "And you - don't do anything stupid - he's still injured."

"Sirius."

"Oh, never fear," Draco said blankly. "Killing Potter isn't on the top of my 'To Do' list at the moment."

Still looking suspicious about Draco's motives, Sirius left the room, glancing over his shoulder as he went. The door slammed shut.

The moment it did, Draco made a strange noise. "The first thing I have to do is kill myself before my father does."

"Or the Slytherins," Harry said helpfully.

"Shut up, Potter. What do you want?"

Harry adjusted his glasses, and winced as his hand touched the bandage above his eye. "I want to finish this," he said bluntly. "We've been at each other's throats since the first day of first year. Either we duel properly - no bystanders - or we call a truce. You don't like me and I don't like you. But the way things are have to stop."

Draco stared at him in disbelief. "Potter, you must've hit your head harder than everyone thought." He scowled. "The way things are suits me perfectly."

"Can you honestly say that?" Harry challenged. "Haven't you got enough to worry about, besides trying to get me in as much trouble as possible?" His expression was quite hard. "Just because I'm a Gryffindor doesn't mean that I can't make your life hell."

"Right," Draco scoffed. "You couldn't make my life worse than it already is," he said under his breath.

Harry heard him, and curiosity took over. "What do you do at Death Eater meetings, anyway?" he asked.

Draco gave him a look of superiority. "Oh, you know, the usual." He shrugged. "Have a bit of supper, listen to a few bedtime stories, play nicely with the other kids..."

"Sounds wonderful," Harry said sarcastically. He went to get out of bed.

"Your Godfather is going to kill you," Draco commented, watching.

"Saving you the bother," retorted Harry, limping over to the large windows that looked out over the grounds. It was late afternoon. "I've been knocked out for that long?"

"Causing most of Gryffindor to go into epileptic seizures," drawled the Slytherin boy. "It's not like you were dead or anything. Although that fall probably killed off the few remaining brain cells that inhabit the empty space inside your head."

Harry fumed. "Do you ever say anything that isn't insulting?"

"To you - no."

Breathing in deeply, Harry sought to find some sort of neutral ground. "Look, make up your mind. Dumbledore's got enough on his plate. We have to handle our own business in private, and that means finding a way to either call a truce or kill each other."

Draco blinked. "You're serious."

"Yes." Harry leaned against the windowsill and inspected Draco from a distance. "You could, at least, give me a reason why you saved me."

"I already told you Potter, I don't know why. Probably because the clean up would be too messy if you'd hit the ground. After all, I care only for the hygiene and happiness of my fellow classmates. Imagine their reaction if they'd had to do the clean-up!"

Harry stared at Draco intensely for a long time. Underneath his powerful scrutiny, Draco was feeling discomfited with those unwavering, bright green eyes. He had the strangest impression that the other boy was reading him like a book.

Eventually, Draco snapped. "Jesus, Potter, just take a photograph, it'll last longer!"

Smiling triumphantly, Harry straightened up. "I knew you couldn't be completely evil," he exclaimed. "You have a conscience!"

"What?" said Draco, startled. "No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" replied Harry, nodding vigorously. "Why else would you bother catching me? Me, the person you probably hate most in the whole world? And you've turned spy for Dumbledore." This obviously settled the matter.

Draco mouthed wordlessly. Harry grinned widely. "See, being a good person isn't so bad," he said comfortingly.

"I hate you," Draco finally spluttered. "Yes, I saved your stupid life and yes, I'm spying. So what? I don't have to explain anything or be anything I don't want to." As soon as he said this, Draco was acutely aware of the Dark Mark branded on his arm. Liar.

Harry looked sceptical. Until he sighed. "Look, I - I want a truce. Not a fight. Voldemort wants me, and he's out to destroy everything he can. You hate your life and wish you weren't a Death Eater. I can tell, you know-"

Draco turned away. "I want to beat you, Potter," he said fiercely. "I wish I hadn't caught you - it would've made my life a lot more simple." And easier, too.

His words were left hanging in the silence.

The two boys were standing, facing one another, with only a few metres between them. Draco realised that Harry was still taller than him, despite a small growth spurt he'd experienced during the first few weeks of term. One more item to add to his list of grievances against Harry Potter. No matter what he did, Potter always beat him. In Quidditch, in height, even in, to his mortification, Care Of Magical Creatures. But only, as Draco told himself, because of the blatant favouritism that the oaf gamekeeper had for Gryffindors.

Potter's face was unreadable, if only for a faint trace of regret. "Then I guess that's it," he said hoarsely. "Tonight?"

Draco was incredulous. He was agreeing, just like that? Holding back his astonishment, Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're injured. It won't be fair."

"Since when do Malfoy's care about playing fair?" inquired Harry, sounding distant. "Madam Pomfrey'll fix me up in about two seconds. You're making excuses."

Draco bristled. "We'll see, Potter. Trophy room, midnight?"

Harry smiled, emotionless. "Just like first year. What a cliché."

The pale boy found that he couldn't stand looking at Harry anymore. Draco whirled around and stormed out of the room, throwing one last comment over his shoulder as he left.

"I look forward to it."

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Scratch, scratch.

Sirius glanced up from the stack of papers he was examining.

Scratch, scratch.

Elaine Sinistra shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Scratch, scratch.

Severus Snape threw down his newspaper in frustration. "What on earth are you doing?" he demanded.

Danielle didn't even bother to look up from the wooden talisman she was working on. "I'm making a protection charm," she said, quite unperturbed by the glares she was receiving from many of the teachers, who were attempting to concentrate on their own tedious research.

It was a meeting of the Order of Phoenix, one that was more focused on research than action. The main purpose was to find extra-powerful charms to place on the castle, ones not unlike the ancient spells that lay in the very stonework of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had called all the teachers together that evening, and together they all sat in the staff room, each pursuing a different stack of books and archived papers.

However, some teachers had decided to get on with personal activities.

Remus, who was wearing his reading glasses, tried to hide a small smile. Severus huffed. "Some of us are trying to do something productive," he stressed.

"Reading the newspaper?" Danielle asked, looking sceptical.

Before Severus could reply, Remus cleared his throat. "There's something here," he said, always the peacemaker. "An ancient sort of shield that deflects dragon fire...large explosions...any sort of spell that tries to eat away rock..."

Sirius leaned over and peered at the dusty book that Remus had open on the desk. "Could be useful," he remarked. "Although I don't know where Voldemort would get a few pet dragons to put on a leash."

"Romanian colonies?" Elaine suggested. It was one of the few times she'd spoken up. When Remus and Sirius looked at her, she flushed slightly. "I mean, the wild ones. Out in the wilderness, a dragon or two could surely disappear..."

"The Dark Lord has never mentioned anything about dragons," mused Snape. "Remind me never to enlighten him with such an idea."

Danielle just smiled vaguely and continued to scratch away at the small talisman. It was a flat piece of durable wood, circular, and light. Using a very thin razor, she painstakingly etched Japanese symbols of safety and protection around the edge, in very tiny writing. As she did so, Danielle concentrated on putting all of her will and determination into the small pendant.

Sirius came over to her and bent over her shoulder. "What's it for?" he wanted to know.

She turned her head to look at him. "It's for Harry," she said quietly. "A small protection charm. I'm sick of seeing him getting hurt....maybe this might ward off some of his troubles."

Indeed, Harry seemed to attract trouble, no matter what he did, Sirius thought, as he stared down at Danielle's insignificant token. Madam Pomfrey had easily fixed him up and sent him back to Gryffindor Tower, but Sirius was becoming more and more anxious about his Godson. The number of times that Harry had managed to get himself into the hospital wing already was astounding.

From his own chair, Snape grimaced. "Potter is extremely unlucky," he said gruffly. "It seems the boy has a distinct knack for getting himself into trouble and needs somebody to haul him out. You shouldn't waste your time on trifles like those."

Sirius instantly rose to the bait. "Looking out for the welfare of her Godson is nothing but a 'trifle'?"

"Sirius," Remus said warningly.

But Sirius paid him no heed. "At least she's trying to help Harry," he said bitingly. "Your spying hasn't helped to keep anyone or anything safe."

Snape clenched his teeth. "How, pray, could I have helped?" he hissed. "Voldemort tells us what he wants us to know, and asking questions isn't prudent, Black. Unless you'd rather swap?"

"Enough!" Danielle said sharply. Everybody in the room turned to look at her face, which was riddled with disgust. "You're both being complete arses," she said, without preamble. "You both use anything as an excuse to fight, and I am sick of it. Sirius, you should be ashamed of yourself. What kind of example are you setting your Godson, acting like a rowdy teenager? And Severus-"

Snape flinched. "-You are no better. All you have to do is treat people with a degree of agreeability, but you don't bother. I know that what you go through is living hell, I've seen you suffer! But unless you two work something out, I'm leaving."

There was a stunned silence. Danielle gave the two guilty parties a glare of contempt, before turning around and storming out of the room. Nobody moved after she left.

Sirius was gaping like a fish. "What did I do?" he finally asked, looking bewildered.

Remus, who was polishing his glasses, sighed. "She's right, you know," he said, examining them both coolly. When both Severus and Sirius opened their mouths to argue, he held up a hand. "And you also heard what she said. Work something out, or we'll lose our DADA teacher."

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"Here." Danielle held out her small talisman to Harry. He stared at it. It looked rather ordinary in her small hand. She had somewhat cornered him in the Common Room, much to the curiosity of the other Gryffindors, who were looking on in interest. "Take it," she insisted, grabbing his wrist and placing the charm in his hand.

"Thanks," Harry said, staring at his palm. "Erm - what is it?"

"Just a present from me to you," Danielle said quickly. She glanced around the Common Room. Her eyes roved over to the fireplace, where the traditional couch was placed. It left her feeling sad. Gryffindor Tower hadn't appeared to have changed at all, from when she herself had been a student. Minus the calendar on the notice board, it might as well have been 1975.

"What should I do with it?" Harry asked, cutting in on her nostalgia.

Danielle smiled. "Wear it, of course. It's a gift."

"So it's - jewellery?"

"Oh, no," Danielle reassured him. "Not exactly jewellery. Just a little something that I thought you might like to hang around your neck on something. Kind of a - a good luck charm." She didn't mention the pendant's other properties. The less people that knew about it, the better.

"Oh, right," said Harry, pocketing the talisman. "It's - nice." Personally, Harry doubted that he would wear it at all. It wasn't really his thing. But it looked hand-made, and he had a suspicion that it had been Danielle who made it herself.

Awkwardly, Danielle patted him on the shoulder. Eyes flicking to the few curious students still watching, she casually turned her back on them. "Did you work things out with Malfoy?" she inquired, in a lower voice.

Harry stiffened, and carefully avoided any trace of hostility in his voice. "Oh, yeah," he said casually. "Malfoy and I are - still working on some issues."

She frowned. "You aren't fighting, are you?"

"No!" Harry mentally kicked himself. Could he have possibly sounded guiltier?

"Hmmm." Danielle appeared to be even more suspicious. "Well, you went to dinner, didn't you?"

Harry winced. He had, and the entire time had been spent answering questions by the rest of the school. What happened up there? Was he okay? Would there be a rematch? What was Malfoy up to? In the end, Ron had bellowed at everybody to bugger off and leave Harry alone. It had worked, to a degree. But he still had to endure the cool, collected face of Draco Malfoy, seated at the Slytherin table. He had been eating calmly, ignoring the bewildered faces of his housemates. Nobody could fathom the reason of Draco's stunt, least of all, the Slytherins.

Draco's indifference seemed to mock Harry. He, certainly, didn't feel calm. Duelling brought back memories of things he'd rather forget. Harry hadn't told anyone about the duel. Not even Ron, who would have leapt at the chance to witness such an event. There would be no seconds in this duel. It was purely between a Malfoy and a Potter, no-one else.

His face must have given away his resigned mood. Danielle looked sympathetic. "It'll blow over in a few days," she said knowledgably. "That was a scary thing that happened this morning. Probably put off most of the first years from their flying lessons."

"That's comforting," Harry said gloomily.

Danielle patted his shoulder again, before turning to leave. "I've got a load of papers to mark," she said regretfully. "Better get a start on them. Today's been a bit too eventful for me. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Harry, watching her leave. If only you knew how eventful it still is.

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It was dank; it was dark. A steady drip, drip was the only sound in the cell. There were no windows; the air was moist and cold, and smelled of something unidentifiable. Now and then, eerie scurrying could be heard along the walls.

There was no light. It was blacker than night.

And in this tiny cell, a little girl huddled against the slimy, rock wall that she couldn't see, and whimpered. She had never been afraid of the dark before, but staying there for so long, she was full of fear - fear of the things that she couldn't see. She was chilled to the bone. Her pyjamas and thin blanket were useless against the penetrating cold, and she shivered continually.

All she remembered was waking up to a pair of black hands grabbing her from her small bed. And then nothing. She was hungry. Perhaps the man would come soon, if she waited. With some light. Just remembering what light was made her sob quietly. She was afraid.

Eventually, the girl fell into a deep sleep. It was all the same, anyway; it was impossible to tell the difference between having your eyes open or closed. Each was as devoid of light as the other. While she slept, a lone figure bearing a single light journeyed down the labyrinth of tunnels. Unseen beings scurried out of his path, avoiding his sure, even footfalls.

As far as he knew, Aiden was the only person to have walked these passages since the time of the ancients. Nobody had dared to venture into the tunnels, in fear of what might lay, waiting for them in the darkness. I do not fear the dark. I am of the dark, he thought, gazing into the blackness before him as he walked. Dark is so easy to conquer. A single ray of light can defeat it. But shadow cannot be banished. Where there is light, there is shadow.

The tunnel forked several times; Aiden instinctively followed the path he knew. Over his back was slung a large cloth sack. It was quite light. Behind him, in the black, Aiden knew that things were following him. Stalking him, regarding him with frozen, idle curiousity. Unless he was careful, the creatures that dwelled in the dark might have a feast ahead.

He entered a vast chamber. The light from his wand dimly lit up the space, leaving thick shadows at the edges. The chamber was so big, the space seemed infinite. It didn't bother Aiden at all. He had no interest in disturbing what lived here. He only wanted to get on with his task. Aiden made his way to a certain point on the floor and turned to the left, straight into more darkness. After a long time, a wall appeared. And there stood a huge, metal door, made of pure silver. It glinted in the light.

Retrieving a solid, silver key, Aiden fitted it into the lock and turned it carefully. The lock emitted a loud click, and the door opened noiselessly.

It had once been some form of guardhouse; a place where prisoners and those who were waiting to be brought to justice were kept. Now, those ancient cells were empty. All except the last.

As the light came closer, the little girl awoke, and cried out in pain. Her eyes were overwhelmed. Aiden tutted, as he opened the cell next to hers. "How's my little girl today?" he asked soothingly. "Holding up well, are we?"

She didn't reply. Frowning, Aiden slid the sack off his back and dropped it to the ground carefully. Laying his burning torch on the ground, he untied the loosely bound bag and inspected its contents. It was still intact. Smiling grimly, Aiden reached in, and heaved out the form of a boy, no older than five years of age. He was unconscious.

Aiden slapped him sharply. "Wake up!"

The boy's head lolled around, and his tiny nose twitched. Silently, the boy opened his eyes and squinted. Aiden put him down. "There, now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

The boy fell to the ground and lay still. Irritated, Aiden reached for his belt and pulled out a flask of liquid. "Stupid boy, you'll never survive like that," he muttered. Tipping the boy's head back, Aiden gently tipped a small amount down his throat. The child spluttered and choked on the strong drink, and tried to bring it back up. Aiden held him firmly. "Swallow!"

After a while, when it was all down the boy's throat and he was satisfied, Aiden let him fall back. Grimacing, he stood up and surveyed the boy's figure. "What a weakling," he said in disgust. His words echoed off the walls. "I always manage to pick the weak ones. Such a pity."

Ignoring the tiny, rasping child, Aiden turned his attention back to the little girl, who was staring through the bars fearfully. She yelped and pressed herself into the furthest corner of her neighbouring cell.

He chuckled. "You have nothing to fear," he told her casually. "Why, you're safer here than anywhere else in the world!" Again, he laughed eerily. The little girl's skin crawled. She didn't like this man at all. She wanted to be home, in her bed, with her teddy bears and her mummy. And it was freezing.

"I'm cold," she said in a small voice.

Aiden stopped laughing. Frowning, he stooped down and picked up a chunk of rubble. Hefting it in one hand, Aiden swept back a lock of his fair hair and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Well, that can be easily fixed," he said.

Curiously, the girl watched as the man pulled out the magic wand she had seen before. He tapped the rock and said something in the language that her daddy used when he was doing spells. The rock shimmered and transformed into a thick, woollen blanket. She stared at it hopefully. "For me?"

"Of course." Striding out of the next cell, Aiden pulled out his ring of keys and fitted the correct one into the lock. He opened the end cell and offered the blanket to the girl. Gingerly, she came forward and took it from his grasp. She barely came up to his waist.

Eagerly, the girl took the blanket and wrapped it around herself snugly, if awkwardly. She quickly discarded her thin, ratty cloth in the process. Aiden watched her shrewdly. If the girl made a break for the door, he'd stop her easily. But the child seemed to have little interest in dashing for freedom; instead, she sat on the ground, completely swaddled in the woollen blanket.

"Thank you," she said in a muffled voice.

"You're welcome."

Then, silence. Aiden closed the barred door behind him and glanced over at the still form of the other child. The rising and falling of the boy's chest was a sure enough sign that he was still alive. Surprisingly.

"What is your name?" Aiden finally inquired, fixing the girl under his steely gaze.

She gazed back with solemn eyes. "My mummy told me not to talk to strangers."

Aiden laughed. "Your mummy isn't here," he said, not unkindly. "What she won't know can't hurt her, can it? I have to call you something."

"....Jenny." The girl said, reluctantly. "Jennifer, when I'm in trouble."

"Jenny." Aiden savoured her name for a moment. "Well, Jenny, as long as you're a good girl, I won't have to call you Jennifer, will I? Are you going to be a good girl?"

Jenny shivered under the blanket. This man was scary. She didn't like him. But she wasn't about to make him mad. It was too dangerous to make him mad. "No, sir."

"I'm glad. And because you told me yours, I'll tell you my name. It's Aiden."

"Aiden," she repeated dutifully.

He observed the hollowness in her cheeks. "Oh dear, I'm not feeding you enough, am I?" he said mildly. "I can't come every day, you see. Things are quite busy, up where I'm from."

"Doing what?"

"Oh, things," he said mysteriously. "But what would you like to eat?"

Jenny studied his face. "Anything?"

"Anything you want."

"Well...." Jenny had no idea what time it was, so she wasn't sure whether to ask for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. But if anything meant anything, then she would ask for her favourite food. "Chocolate cake!"

"Chocolate cake it is." Aiden turned his back and did something with his hands that Jenny couldn't spot. It made her cross. Her parents were always doing that, too. But all complaints vanished, when he turned back around, holding a large tray. On the tray sat the biggest, runniest, most delicious chocolate cake that Jenny had ever seen. She gaped.

Aiden smiled. "Eat up."

He placed the tray on the ground and Jenny darted forward. She began to pull chunks of the cake out with her hands. Aiden stood back and looked down indulgently. Children really were disgusting creatures. It made him wince to even brush upon the memory of his childhood days.

After a while, Jenny eventually slowed down, and pushed herself away from the platter. Her face was mostly smeared with icing, and her hands were filthy. However, there was a contented look on her face, and a light in her previously dull eyes.

"That was yummy," she gasped, rubbing her bloated stomach. "But now I'm really thirsty."

"Are you?" Aiden conjured a jug of clear, cold water, with a small mug to match. Jenny gulped down three mugs of water before she was satisfied. But there was dirt and chocolate smudged all over her face and hands. Aiden sighed. "Children are so messy," he said disdainfully.

Jenny looked put out, but didn't say anything. Aiden looked at her critically. "You need a bath," he said.

She froze. "I'm not having a bath here," she said stubbornly.

Aiden's face tightened. "You will, if you want to eat."

The threat hung there. Jenny backed down. "But it's cold," she said meekly.

"You'll live." Glancing back over to the boy, his face twisted into a scowl. "I'll have to fix him up, too." Judging by the state of the boy, it would take a while.

"And baths," Jenny reminded him.

Children were such a bother. But necessary, if his plans were to succeed.

These children were the key. His key.

Gritting his teeth, Aiden got to work.

***********************************************************************

Sirius was completely at a loss. He'd searched everywhere, and yet there was no sign of Danielle anywhere. It was somewhat irritating, resigning himself to apologising and then being unable to find the one person he needed. Doing all the searching as a dog was also a large hindrance.

"Ooh, doggy!" squealed a third-year Hufflepuff girl. In an instant, he was surrounded by a mass of adoring girls, each stroking his thick coat and crooning about what a gorgeous dog he was. For all that it was rather flattering, Sirius was considering nipping one of them, in hopes of escape.

"Girls! Leave the dog alone, before he bites you!" McGonagall appeared out of nowhere. Sirius had not been so glad to see anyone since he'd arrived on Remus' doorstep. "It's a HOUR past curfew! Fifty points from each of your Houses! Go back to your Common rooms immediately!"

"But miss, we were in the library, and the clock doesn't work, and Madam Pince-"

"Inexcusable! Go on, back to your Houses! I will certainly be having a word to Madam Pince!"

The girls reluctantly scattered and quickly left, leaving Sirius under the critical eye of the stern witch. When they were all gone, she planted her hands on her hips. "I suppose you think you're quite clever," she said severely.

Sirius barked. She frowned. "What are you doing, parading away in the hallways?"

He tried to give her a mournful look.

"Looking for Danielle, are you?"

Woof.

"Well, you won't find her down here. I believe the last anyone saw of her, she was headed for the North Tower."

Grateful, Sirius wagged his tail. Minerva's mouth twitched. "Oh, get on with you, then!" she said. "Don't harass her yet - not until you've made your peace with Severus. Have you come to an arrangement with him yet?"

At Sirius' disgusted expression, managed even in canine form, she scowled. "I SUGGEST you do that first, young man. And don't even think about going back to your rooms until you've made up to her properly!"

The sight of Minerva McGonagall glaring down at him reminded Sirius that she was still his superior in transfiguration. And was generally quite handy with curses. Hurriedly, Sirius set off, back to the staff room, to do the inevitable - have a cordial conversation with Severus Snape.

************************************************************************************

Harry slipped through the corridors, hidden beneath his ever-handy invisibility cloak. The trophy room took him straight past Filch's office, so he had to be as quiet as possible. Mrs Norris and Filch worked as a seamless team, and if he was caught...

Trying not to think about it, Harry snuck past classrooms, offices, and rooms he wasn't entirely sure had any purpose. There were always rooms like those that appeared and disappeared at will. It made castle life all the more interesting. At the moment, Harry had no particular craving for an interesting life. As it was, his stomach was tense with nerves.

Duelling would have to be his least-liked activity, besides spending time with the Dursleys. He was only average with it, despite all the praise he received from Dumbledore. It was overrated, really. I don't want to do this.

If only that bloody Malfoy wasn't so stubborn and arrogant! Harry had no doubts that if Sirius or Dumbledore found out what they were about to do, he would be major trouble. Nervously, Harry mentally ran through all of the duelling spells he could think of. I should have researched before I came, he thought gloomily. So much for being prepared.

Much to his dismay, Harry had no trouble in reaching the trophy room. Loath to go inside, he paused out in the corridor, his hand on the handle. In many ways, tonight would solve old unfinished business. But at what price? If he won, if Malfoy won....

Refusing to dwell on this, he took a breath and slowly turned the handle. The door opened, and he pushed it wider, cautiously.

Malfoy was already there.

He'd been inspecting a cabinet full of Quidditch trophies, his back to the door. So when Harry stepped through, invisible, Draco swung around, wand at the ready. Realising that the room appeared empty, he scowled. "Take off that bloody cloak, Potter," he accused, directing this towards the empty doorway.

Irritated, Harry let the cloak slide off. "Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Shutting the door very, very quietly, Harry glared at Draco. "There's no way we can keep this silent, Filch'll come along and we'll never be able to sneak out again."

"What, are you scared, Potter?"

"No!" Harry looked even more annoyed. "I'm just bloody-well more careful than you."

"Careful?" Draco seemed to be infinitely amused. "A Gryffindor? Potter, have you been drinking?" He undid his cloak and slung it to the side. "Slytherins are the careful ones, Potter. Gryffindors barge in, wands blazing, and get themselves finished off before they know what's happened."

Harry decided that he couldn't despise a person more than he did Draco Malfoy. "At least Gryffindors have honour," he said, through gritted teeth. "At least we don't go around murdering people, just because they're Muggles, or Muggleborn."

Malfoy's face was completely unreadable. "What would you understand about that?" he asked, more talking to himself than to Harry. "Pure blood is the only way to carry on strong wizarding lines. The only way to stop the Muggle world from finding out about us. What do you think would happen, if the Muggles did? Would they sit back and ignore us? Let things go on as they always have?" He snorted. "Not a chance, Potter. They'd see us as a source of power, a solution to all of their problems. We might have magic, but they have their own sort of weapons - what, you didn't think I knew about that?"

Harry stared at him shrewdly, as he pulled out his wand - keeping it lowered. "I thought you didn't have anything to do with Muggle culture."

"I read, Potter. Probably something that you've never bothered to attempt. Oh, I know all about those nuclear weapons and explosives that Muggles seem to love so much. And although we wizards are powerful, even we couldn't prevent every single explosive from falling on a wizarding settlement. It's about our survival. Us or them."

Draco pulled out his own wand. "Now, shall we get this over with? I put a silencing charming on the room before you showed up. Nobody outside will hear a thing."

"Fine." Harry tensed himself. "No Unforgivables. Nothing illegal."

Draco inclined his head. "What do you take me for, Potter? A Death Eater, or something?" Again, he seemed amused by the whole situation.

They both settled into their duelling positions. "When the clock strikes twelve, " Harry said quietly.

The old clock on the wall was halfway through the minute. Both Harry and Draco watched the hand slowly move. The thirty seconds seemed to go on forever.

I'd never have pictured myself doing this, Harry mused silently. Not even in first year, when Malfoy proposed a wizards duel.

Nearly time, Draco thought, gripping his wand tightly. Here we go.

The hand struck twelve.

"Quilon Tibis!" yelled Harry.

"Versorium Excelsus!" cried Draco, barely avoiding the other boy's curse.

Harry dodged the jet of purple light. "Limaxium!"

Draco doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Vectis Incantaem!" he wheezed, pointing his wand at Harry.

The force of the curse hit Harry, and threw him backwards into the wall. He lay there for a moment, stunned. Meanwhile, Draco was trying to perform the counter-curse for the spell that had hit him straight in the stomach. However, there was a slight problem; Draco couldn't get the words out through the torrent of slugs that he was retching.

"Potter, you bastard!" Draco tried to say, but it came out as, "Bbrrgg, uurg blurghrd!"

Harry didn't feel up to answering. Dizzily, he slowly heaved himself up and steadied himself against the wall. His head was pounding violently. Where was his wand? He couldn't concentrate properly.

Spluttering, Draco eventually managed to perform the counter-curse. "Limaxium Subsisto!"

The vomiting of slugs stopped. Able to breathe again, Draco coughed and tried to spit out the disgusting taste in his mouth. "That was disgusting. DISGUSTING. I'll never be able to eat again! God, I almost pitied Weasley, there, for a moment!" He shuddered. His face appeared to have a slight green tinge.

Harry, still feeling woozy, spotted his wand lying on the floor a short distance away. He dived for it, the hex aimed at him just missing its target. Snatching up his wand, Harry yelled the first spell that came to mind. "Reducto!"

As if in slow motion, Harry watched as Draco staggered backwards, his eyes rolling up into his head. It seemed to take an hour for him to fall to the floor. The room descended into silence. Harry stood there, gripping a cabinet for support. His legs were wobbling.

It was over.

Malfoy was down.

So why didn't he feel like the winner?

************************************************************************************

Sirius did eventually find Danielle at the North Tower.

On the roof.

He had to practically hang out of the window to see her outline in the dark. She was lying on her back, eyes closed - only feet away from a very nasty-looking drop. Sirius eyed the shadowy footholds above his head and wondered if he was insane enough to climb up.

"Danielle?"

She didn't open her eyes. "Go away."

"Sorry, I can't do that." Hesitating for a moment, Sirius gripped a handhold, prayed silently, and hoisted himself up onto the windowsill. "....hhesus," he said weakly, glancing down.

It was then that Danielle did open her eyes. "Don't be an idiot," she said calmly. "You'll fall."

"Not if I'm careful." Sirius painstakingly turned himself around and found himself staring at the stone tiling of the tower's roof. It was a steady slope. Danielle sat on the flat bit at the top.

"Don't do it," she said sharply.

Sirius took a breath and heaved himself up, grabbing onto the heavy tiling. His legs dangled off into space. Horrified, Danielle slid down awkwardly, and gripped his robes tightly. Together they pulled him up, Danielle grunting from the effort. "Bloody hell, what do you eat?"

Once completely on the roof, Sirius pushed himself away, upwards and away from the edge. "You're insane," he said wonderingly.

"I told you not to do it."

He smiled crookedly. "Just because you tell me something doesn't mean I'll listen."

"Tell me about it. You must be half deaf." Danielle clambered up and resumed her comfortable position, sitting on the small, flat area at the top. "Are you coming up or not?"

Sirius followed her up. It was completely dark; the stars and moon were bright against the almost-black sky. They both sat there and looked up. "They look so close, don't they?" Danielle said quietly.

He had to agree. It was peaceful, if absolutely freezing. "Aren't you cold?" he asked, rubbing his own hands together. She shrugged, and kept staring at the sky. Sirius noticed that she was only wearing a normal robe, with no cloak or wrap over. "You must be freezing," he said reprovingly, glad that he'd remembered to keep on the thick winter cloak that had mysteriously appeared in his wardrobe, via the house elves.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Your nose is turning blue."

She rubbed her nose self-consciously. "I said I'm fine. And I'm not going to talk to you until you grow up. Honestly. I mean, you can't even stand in the same room without snapping at each other, it's like a repeat of sixth y-"

Sirius put his hand over her mouth. "I came to apologise," he said firmly. "Severus and I talked, and we yelled, and we worked it out. We won't duel. We won't bicker any more. We even worked out a permanent truce. We even shook hands."

Danielle tried to say something, but Sirius kept his hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I was acting like a kid, I know. I haven't been acting like an adult, and I've been making things harder than they should be."

He took away his hand from her mouth. She stared at him. "Are you going to leave?" Sirius asked. "Because if you do, I won't be responsible for what Harry might do. Or Remus. Or myself, now I come to think about it."

Helplessly, Danielle looked at his intense face and gave in. She hadn't really been considering quitting...leaving Hogwarts simply wasn't a real option for her. But if it meant keeping the menfolk in line..."I'll stay, if you keep your truce."

It was like a thundercloud disappearing to reveal a warm and inviting morning - his face lit up, smoothing out the creases. A grin curved his lips. "You will? That's great! I mean, it's great for Harry and the school too, because it'd be hard to find a DADA teacher on such short notice, and Dumbledore would have even more problems and Remus would probably get depressed or something, that fellow can really-"

"Sirius, shut up."

Laughing, Sirius tweaked her nose. "Make me."

Danielle shoved him. He shoved her back. Before they knew it, it was an all-out wrestling match. "You prat!" she squeaked, when he managed to get her into a headlock. "I practice karate! You're cheating!"

"Nonsense!" retorted Sirius, cackling in admittedly, a rather insane way. The scuffle went on, until Danielle nearly pushed Sirius off the edge. "You're trying to kill me, woman!" he exclaimed darkly, when she hauled him up for the second time. "Twice in one night! And I didn't even get to eat dinner!"

"You haven't had dinner?" Danielle looked at him reproachfully. "Why didn't you say so?"

Grunting, he stood up. "It slipped my mind."

Holding out his hand, he pulled her up. The wind was ruffling their clothing - the temperature was dropping even further. But neither of them noticed. Sirius still held her hand tightly. He looked down at her, face partially hidden by the dark. Danielle stared up at him, spellbound by his expression. She wasn't sure what it was, but the intensity of his gaze made her shiver. It was almost frightening.

The next moment, Sirius kissed her. He didn't ask, didn't even let go of her hand. He just did it, shyly but sweetly. Danielle, completely frozen to the spot, was stunned to find herself responding. A million things raced through her mind, until a certain image flashed past - Sirius' chilling glare, when he first confronted her in Dumbledore's office.

The memory made her stiffen immediately. Sirius drew back quickly. "I - sorry -" He couldn't seem to speak clearly. His hand was warm, gripping her own. "Did I move too fast?" he asked worriedly. His eyes nearly made her collapse. Damn them for being so blue!

"No," she said, so quietly that he struggled to hear her.

Hesitantly, he put his other hand to her face. His warm palm cupped her almost frozen cheek. "Are - are you alright?" Sirius never let his eyes leave hers.

She'd never felt so wonderful - and yet so terrified - in her life. The freezing night seemed to have lost its chill. But she couldn't stay. Sirius obviously didn't know what he was getting into. If she stayed, it would lead to something that she'd rather not deal with in the morning. Something that she longed for but feared intensely. "I have to go," she mumbled, breaking away from his grip.

Sirius reached out to her. "Danielle, wait! I-"

But she refused to listen. Danielle carefully slid down the side, and cautiously lowered herself onto the windowsill. She only glanced up once. Sirius' still, black silhouette was stark against the moonlight. Her heart wrenched. But she stubbornly pushed her emotions aside, and swung back into the highest room of the tower. There she stood for a moment, breathing heavily. What had she done?

Sirius was thinking similar thoughts as he stood on the vertical platform of the roof. He let his outstretched hand fall to his side. What have I done? The night had become frigid again. The moon slowly disappeared under the cover of a hazy cloud. But he stayed there, for a long time - long after Danielle hurried from the tower, almost as if monsters were pursuing her.

I keep making things harder than they should be. He thought unhappily, tucking his hands into his pockets. How am I going to fix this? Whatever had compelled him to kiss her was going to be his downfall.

Then another thought hit him. "Remus is going to kill me."

*************************************************************************************

Harry stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside Draco. The other boy's form was still. The gentle rising and falling of his chest was the only indication that Harry hadn't actually killed him. The Slytherin boy was sprawled on his back, pale hair askew. His skin was devoid of any colour. His face was slack.

Despite himself, Harry felt a stab of guilt. He felt quite sick. For a moment, he considered going to Dumbledore - before the consequences of such an action came to mind. Suspension. Loss of House points. Possible suicide from humiliation, on Malfoy's part. Impossibly long lectures from Sirius. It wasn't worth it. He would have to revive Malfoy himself.

Pointing his wand at Draco's chest, he whispered, "Enervate."

Malfoy stirred. Harry shook him lightly. "Wake up, Malfoy!"

Slowly, Draco opened his eyes. And he didn't appreciate seeing Harry first thing.

"Bastard!" he moaned, rolling over onto his side. "I fucking hate you, Potter!"

"I don't particularly love you either," snapped Harry. "I told you this was a bad idea, but your stupid pride-"

"My stupid pride? Potter, my pride is not stupid!" For somebody who had been rendered unconscious a few seconds before, Malfoy was recovering with remarkable speed. "Are you happy? You've beaten me! You've done your glorious, marvellous deed for today - the Boy who Lived, showing up yet another Evil Slytherin - you win!"

"No, I didn't! " yelled Harry.

"Yes you did, Potter, don't try and patronise me-"

"I didn't. Just because I beat you in a silly little duel doesn't mean I WIN. I was never trying to win, Malfoy. I didn't want to duel with you. I've had enough of duels." Feeling reckless, Harry shoved his wand at Malfoy. "I just want some peace." Draco fumbled with the wand and stared at it. Harry knelt before him, eyes blazing. The cut on his forehead had reopened, bleeding sluggishly.

Draco sat in front of him. The clock was still ticking, amazingly - it was completely intact. He felt defeated. This was truly the icing on the cake. Harry Potter was giving him the chance to do whatever he wanted to him. With his own wand, into the bargain. Draco felt the urge to start laughing hysterically. But somehow, he fought down his giggles (his head was pounding terribly) and glanced down at the wand. It was much different from his own. It looked warmer. More used. More alive, if such a term could be applied to a wand.

He rubbed his thumb along it, thinking in the silence. The clock ticked on. What did he want? Did he want to finish off Potter here and now, becoming a hero for all Slytherins? Or would he walk away? Call a truce and make everybody happy?

Harry's gaze didn't waver as Draco placed the tip of the wand against his head. "You freely give me the use of your wand?" he asked hoarsely.

Slowly, Harry nodded. Behind his cracked glasses, those startling-green eyes held no fear - and no resentment. Draco didn't move. The pair of them remained still for a long time. Then, Draco moved the wand, and Harry closed his eyes, expecting the end.

But no flash of green light appeared, no sudden rush of wind and sound. No taste of death. Instead, Harry felt a press of smooth wood into his hand. He opened his eyes, to find Draco staring at him. "You can have it back, Potter," he said. "You aren't the only one who's sick of it all."

The relief that Harry felt, then, threatened to swamp him. But acting as coolly as possible, Harry extended his other hand. "Will you accept a truce?"

Draco paused. He was a Slytherin, a Death Eater, and an aristocratic boy. He was his father's son, and a traitor. He was everything that Harry Potter was not. But all the same, they were equal. Draco accepted Harry's hand, and shook it. The Gryffindor had a firm, steady grip. Draco liked that. And despite the odds.....God-forbid, he trusted Potter.

"Truce."

*********************************************************************************