Resolution

We are, each of us, angels with one wing and we can only fly by embracing one another -- Lucian de Creszenza

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Chapter 10: 8th April 1998

Morning ...

... Malfoy Manor ...

It was, Draco decided, the perfect day for flying; he could see for miles and miles. There was just a hint of chilliness in the clear morning air and the feeling of perfection was helped, in no small way, by the new broom on which he was currently flying loop-the-loops over Malfoy Manor. The Thunderbolt had been amongst his indecently large pile of birthday presents, and as he'd unwrapped the sleek broom, he'd fallen in love with it immediately.

Of course he had read about it in Quidditch Weekly, but never had he thought his father would relent and buy him one after his Nimbus 2001 had been destroyed. Now here he was, flying over the estate on a broom that made his old one seem like it should be sweeping the floor rather than speeding through the air.

Executing an exquisite 180-degree turn, he sped across the private Quidditch pitch, looping around and through the huge golden goal posts before racing back to the other end to repeat the manoeuvre, finally ending up hovering over the centre spot. As he hung there, high above the ground, he found himself grinning inanely at the thought of showing off his new broom to Harry. Assuming, that was, his father let him take it back to school with him.

That thought brought him up short. He was eighteen today ... he was an adult and that meant he didn't really have to ask for his parents' permission anymore. As he flew in a lazy spiral towards the ground, the idea pleased him even if, in his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn't really the case.

Suddenly wanting to see just how fast he could kick off from the ground, he touched down onto the grass. He could feel the broom almost straining beneath him, as if it was as desperate as he was to get back into the air again.

And that was where he wanted to be. Up there ... in the sky. When he flew, he could almost forget everything else. All he needed to worry about was the feel of the wind in his hair and the power of the broom he was riding. He didn't have to think about who had shared the dinner table with him and his parents the previous evening or the casual way the person he knew was the Dark Lord had talked to him.

At first Draco had only been able to mutter 'yes' and 'no', but as the evening had progressed, things had changed to an informality that had confused him. They had talked about Quidditch and school and Draco had found himself answering the man back as the light banter had continued.

It was easy, Draco considered, to forget that the man was actually Lord Voldemort. David Morrello seemed so ... normal ... so ordinary. No wonder people liked David and thought of him as a great Quidditch team owner and patron. David had a way of looking at people that made them feel relaxed and important -- that if you were with this man you would be safe.

It would be so very easy to fall under the man's hypnotic spell. But then Draco would see a glint of red in the blue eyes or a cold, calculating look that would remind him just who David was. He would remember being made to kneel at the Dark Lord's feet the previous summer and of the feel of the man's long, bony finger on his chin.

Draco shivered, not wanting to think of Voldemort and his parents' relationship with the man. Or of how his own relationship with Harry had now changed everything.

He didn't want to think about any of that ... not here, not now. Today was his birthday.

Bracing himself, Draco tightened his grip on the broom, and he was just about to launch himself skyward when he caught sight of a figure emerging from the small pavilion at the side of the pitch. At first he thought it had to be David, but then he recognised the person's stride and realised just who it was -- Alex Palmer, his Quidditch coach from the previous summer.

The man waved and, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets, he strode across the grass.

Draco swallowed almost nervously; he remembered in vivid detail the last time they'd been together, and it brought a sudden flush to his cheeks. It had been there in the pavilion with Alex thrusting deep inside him and Draco clutching at the older man as if his very life depended on it.

To see him again ... this person who had seen and been in places only Harry had, flushed him with a cross between desire and awkwardness. It didn't help that some visceral part of him was responding to the man's presence; he could feel a familiar stirring inside. He pressed hard against the broom shaft hoping the pain might just stop him from embarrassing himself.

"Happy birthday, Draco." Alex stopped beside the broom and rested a hand on the end of the shaft. "How does it feel to be eighteen?"

Draco gave a lop-sided grin, warmth flooding through him at Alex's deep voice. "No different than being seventeen. Except for the presents, of course. Thanks for the World Cup tickets. Do you think England will win this time?"

Alex gave a shrug, his thumb rubbing in small circles over the carved end of the shaft. "Not with the current team. We need new blood in the game. Players like you, for instance." He looked up, eyes hooded, mouth curving in a small smile. "Or Harry Potter. We wouldn't go far wrong with him on the team."

"He's over-rated," Draco snorted, his relationship with Harry not impinging on their status as rivals on the Quidditch pitch.

"Really? That's not what I've heard, but then I haven't seen him play." His hand continued to caress the smooth wood lightly. "Of course that's going to change."

Draco managed to drag his attention from the man's hand, though the memory of the fingers deep inside him refused to go away. "Oh?" He chose not to add anymore for fear his voice might crack.

"Mmm, did you read about the Quidditch Scholarship in the Prophet?" Draco nodded. "Cornelius Fudge has arranged for a special end-of-term match at Hogwarts, which I'm going to referee. All the current players names get put into a hat and fourteen get picked to play."

"Really? No one's said anything."

"Well, the match is supposed to be a secret," Alex winked, "so keep quiet until it's officially announced. I'm looking forward to seeing you play Chaser." He lifted his hand from the shaft and placed it back on the wood near Draco's crotch. "I want to see if you remember any of the moves I taught you."

The man was now at Draco's side, close enough for him to lean over and kiss that knowing smile. It would have been so easy. "I'd rather play Seeker," was the only response he could think of. He thought he could feel the broom vibrate and realised Alex's other hand was now on the broom behind him, the merest touch pressing against him.

"Well, I'm sure the day will just be full of surprises." Alex raised his hand and ran a finger across Draco's cheek. "So...."

Draco swallowed as the man's closeness and touch set in motion a sensation that made him whimper a little; he was starting to get hard. Mentally he began going through Arithmancy tables in his head in an effort to control himself. At the moment the only person he wanted to feel like this for was Harry. He took a calming breath. "I'm seeing someone."

Alex's lip curled slightly. "Oh? Who's the lucky girl?" At Draco's hesitation, he continued. "Or boy?" This time Draco found himself looking away, all too aware of the wash of heat colouring his cheeks. "I see now that what I taught you hasn't gone to waste." He patted Draco's shoulder and leaned closer to his ear to whisper. "Well, if you'd like any more lessons, I'm going to be here for a few days, and I'm sure I can teach you some more that your boyfriend will take pleasure in." Teeth tugged gently on his earlobe before Alex stepped back. "Enjoy your day, Draco. I'll see you at the party later."

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

... Glastonbury ...

The huge motorbike dropped out of the sky, touching down onto the narrow country lane with hardly a jolt. Harry let out a whoop of excitement as a small cloud of dust billowed in their wake. His fingers dug deeper into the leather of Sirius' jacket, and he leaned back slightly, letting the breeze blow through his hair as the bike sped from the bright morning sun into the dappled shade of the overhanging trees.

"All right back there?" The words were whipped by the wind, but a simple spell had made it easy for Sirius to talk to his passenger.

"It's great. Are we...." Harry paused as he felt what seemed to be something hot trickling down his back, and he realised Sirius had lifted the Disillusionment charm he'd cast earlier. He, Sirius and the motorbike were once again visible. "Are we nearly there?"

Sirius chuckled as the motorbike emerged from a tunnel of trees into the sunlight and slowed to a halt. With a wave of his hand, he removed the safety wards from himself, Harry and the bike. "Yep, we're here."

With the ease of youth, Harry jumped from the motorbike and crossed the road to stare through a gap in the high hedge. On the other side, rising into the sky, were the terraced slopes of Glastonbury Tor. It had dominated the relatively flat surrounding landscape as they'd flown in, but now, up close, it seemed even bigger and higher. Harry raised a hand to shield his eyes, squinting a little in the bright sunshine. "Is that a church tower?"

"Yeah ... the church of St Michael, built in the fifteenth century. " Sirius joined his godson. "He's supposed to have slain dragons."

"Really? I thought that was St George."

Sirius grinned. "Nope, there were lots of dragon-slayers. You should ask Charlie Weasley about it, he's an expect on dragon myth. Remember the energy lines and power points we talked about?"

Harry nodded. "Like the pool in the Forbidden Forest."

"That's one of them, though I'm not sure if there is a place like that at any of the other points ... certainly not here." He paused, staring thoughtfully at the square tower on top of the hill. "Of course, you need to be taken to the pool at Hogwarts by someone who knows about it, so there might be one here as well, hidden away. Maybe something to do with the Chalice Well gardens -- I'll take you there if we have time."

"Okay." Harry followed his godfather's gaze. "And there's an energy point here, on the Tor?"

"Yes. Can you feel it?"

"Mmmm, I can feel something, but it's not quite the same as the energy at the pool. Now that we're here, the magic's much stronger ... it's a bit like ... well ... static, I guess. You know what it's like just before a thunderstorm when the air sort of gets thick and muggy? It's like that, but not as unpleasant."

"Do you think you could use it?"

"I don't know. You want me to start pulling rabbits out of hats or doves from my sleeves?"

"Bottles of Butterbeer would be better." Sirius grinned. "When we get up to the summit, I'd like you to try for a connection again. See if you can link in with the energy here like you did at Hogwarts."

Harry frowned, remembering what had happened while he had been at the pool, how he'd been shown the lines of Earth Magic that criss-crossed the country and how many of them were blocked by Voldemort's Darkness, inhibiting the free flow of magical energy. He concentrated for a moment, trying to pick it up again. "It's all a bit -- confused. You know, like it's jumbled together."

"That's not surprising. There are supposed to be loads of power sources converging around this area, so many that even the Muggles have noticed. They call them ley lines. The main one runs from St Michaels Mount in Cornwall," Sirius waved in the general direction of the southwest, "through here, on through the stone circle at Avebury we passed over on the way here and then on to Norfolk. Your father and I tracked it the summer after we finished at Hogwarts."

"You did?" Harry turned, leaning back on the fence that spanned the gap in the hedge, desperate for any snippet of his father's life.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded. "We rode the bike, trying to stay as close to the line as possible. That's where we got into trouble with the Malfoys. They own huge tracts of land that run over the line and one of the groundsmen caught us camping on the estate."

"Malfoy Manor's on a ley line?" Harry's attention suddenly piqued at the thought that Draco's home was possibly nearby.

"It's at Avebury. Remember the huge building in the centre of the stone circle we flew over?" Harry nodded. "That's the Manor house. Malfoy ... Lucius Malfoy's father ... was not happy when he found out we'd just waltzed through his protection wards. The expression on his face was just classic ... we thought he might explode. We had to hightail it out of there before he hexed us within an inch of our lives." Sirius gave a wistful chuckle at the memory. "Anyway, Muggles love Avebury, but the stone circles they visit are just decoys to keep them away from the real ones. It's a shame the stones are on Malfoy land, because they won't let anyone visit. I remember Albus tried to arrange a trip back when I was at Hogwarts, but Malfoy refused ... didn't want riff-raff on his land."

"The stones ... are they important?"

Sirius nodded. "It's all linked, Harry ... here, Avebury, Stonehenge, Hogwarts ... I'm hoping you'll be able to read the lines by tracking your way along them to pick up the other power points."

"Without actually being at those places?"

"Yeah ... something like that."

"Well, I guess I can try." Harry pointed at the hillside. "Is that terracing part of the labyrinth you were talking about?"

"Supposedly." Sirius leaned on the fence. The road they had landed on was about half way up the side of the Tor and it descended steeply down to the base. "It starts down at the bottom near the guesthouse we're staying at and works its way around and up the terracing. They say it'll take about four hours to walk it." He slung an arm around his godson's shoulders. "Still up for it?"

"I can beat you any day, old man!" Harry sniggered a little.

"Ah yes, but can you beat Padfoot?"

"That's cheating!"

"That's years of practicing to be an Animagus, Harry." Arm still around the boy's shoulders, Sirius steered him away from the fence. "Come on, let's go find the guesthouse."

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

Dropping his backpack onto the bed, Harry stared around the room. "Well, it's green, just like the name on the door." The guesthouse, Caliburnus, was nestled at the foot of the Tor and through the window Harry could see the Vale of Avalon spread out before him.

Sirius smirked as he surveyed the room. "Grace believes in colour therapy, so the rooms are all special colours - this is the Green Room ... hence the green."

"I know, but...." Harry held out his hands, gesturing about him. From the sheets on the bed to the colour of the walls, the room was completely furnished in shades of green. Even the pretty silk hangings on the walls were the same colour. "Green ... everywhere. I feel like I'm in some sort of nightmare where I've walked into Slytherin by mistake. I bet the bathroom's green as well." He opened the door to the bathroom and pulled a face. "Yep, even the towels are green."

"You'll survive. Besides, green is supposed to create a feeling of calmness and relaxation and soothe your emotions." Harry snorted in disbelief. "I see I'm going to have to get Grace to talk to you."

"How do you know her?"

"Ah, yes ... Amazing Grace." Sirius let out a wistful sigh. "I met her at the Glastonbury festival the year your parents married. Grace is a Muggle, but exceptionally well tuned into the magic in this area. I guess that's due to living all your life in the shadow of the Tor. We spent about six months together, and although I never told her that I'm a wizard, somehow she just knew. Anyway, things started to get more difficult, and I was worried about what might happen if Voldemort's Death Eaters found her, so we split up in the end. I carried on writing for a while, but then ... well...." Sirius gave a regretful shrug and he reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked like two toy suitcases. "I ended up in Azkaban and you know the rest." He tapped his wand on the cases and they quickly expanded to full size.

Harry grabbed at his case and pulled it to the floor. "Were you in love?"

"Hmmm -- love?" Sirius dropped back onto the bed. "Not sure about love ... there was definitely lust there, but as for love...." He shrugged. "Maybe."

For a moment Harry just watched his godfather as the older man stared at the green ceiling, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Things could have been so different if Voldemort hadn't turned up at Godric's Hollow on the fateful night Harry had lost his parents and Sirius had lost twelve years of his life. If that hadn't happened, he could have had a proper childhood with his parents, and Sirius could have been in love and lust with as many people as he wanted.

Instead, Harry had spent ten years living in a cupboard, unloved and unwanted, while Sirius had been imprisoned in Azkaban enduring Dementors and deprivation. Life, Harry decided, just wasn't fair. At least he'd had the last seven years back in the Wizarding world, but even that time had been tainted by his constant battle with Voldemort. No one ... not himself, not Sirius, not his friends and not even Draco ... would be safe until the Dark Lord was beaten once and for all.

Draco.

Harry's attention returned to the window and the blue sky he could see outside. He wondered for a moment what direction Malfoy Manor was in and what sort of birthday Draco was having. It had, Harry decided, been a strange and exhilarating three months since New Year. He frowned thoughtfully as he remembered telling Draco that he loved him, but was it love, or was it something else? He'd never loved anyone before, so how would he know the difference between love and lust? All he really knew was that he didn't want his relationship with Draco to end, that he missed Draco already and that he was worried he might never see Draco again. "How do you know, Sirius, whether it's love or lust?"

Sirius grinned. "Oh, you'll know when love hits you, Harry. Believe me, you'll know." He sat up quickly. "Come on. Grace is making lunch. You need to get your strength up if you're going to beat Padfoot up that hill."

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

Afternoon ...

... Malfoy Manor ...

This was not the party Draco had expected.

When his mother had talked about a party for his eighteenth birthday, he'd assumed it would be a lavish celebration with the Manor's ballroom lit by thousands of floating candles and full of dancing people. He expected his friends to be there, and he'd wanted to wear robes that made it clear he was the centre of attention.

What he hadn't expected was an afternoon garden party with a guest list that read like a Who's Who of his parents' friends and acquaintances. Granted, it was the perfect afternoon for the gathering, the April sun just warm enough to be pleasant but not hot enough to be uncomfortable, but it wasn't so much a party for him as a social event for his parents.

Of course he realised that all the people his own age would still be at their respective schools, but he'd assumed some of them to get time off. Instead, he was surrounded by people as old as his parents and just a smattering of younger children, who were currently racing around the gardens and no doubt getting lost in the woodland surrounding the house.

He stood on the raised terrace overlooking the formal lawns and surveyed the crowd mingling together around the tables and chairs. The ladies looked like spring flowers in their array of colours while the men strutted around like peacocks. It had rained overnight, and he couldn't help wondering if his father had cast some arcane spell over the garden to ensure sunny weather.

As for his robes, the soft grey ones he'd designed were now hung in his wardrobe; there was no way they would be considered suitable for an afternoon gathering like this. Instead, he was dressed in formal robes he longed to shed for one of his light linen shirts ... something which didn't fasten tightly at his throat and allowed him to feel the breeze against his skin.

His lip twitched slightly as he remembered the one saving grace of the day; the Dark Lord hadn't turned up for the party, not even in the guise of David. So much for Harry's concerns about Draco's safety. He'd wondered briefly where Voldemort had gone, but had quickly decided such thoughts weren't helpful, and even if they were, he didn't want to consider them at the moment.

One of the guests on the lawn below waved up at him and Draco smiled, raising his glass as the woman raised her own in a toast. He had no idea who she was and tried to remember where he'd seen her before; no doubt at one of his mother's dinner parties where he had been paraded and cooed over by the women.

It wasn't that he was disappointed as such -- the pile of gifts waiting to be opened in the drawing room was probably enough compensation -- it was just that his mind kept drifting back to the party his friends had thrown for him in the Slytherin common room. That had been fun, and he was still amused by just how flirty a very drunk Milena could be and by Pansy's sassiness at daring to give him tacky underwear as a present.

And then there was Harry.

A warm glow suffused him as he remembered Harry's party. The afternoon under the cherry tree. The bath. The incredible feeling the protection magic had left him with. Waking up with Harry curled against him the following morning. Then hours of heart-stopping, incredible sex interspersed with moments of quiet peace that made the sex that followed even hotter and more passionate. Afterwards, before they'd gone their separate ways, he'd carefully charmed away the scratches and marks he'd left on Harry's skin. Harry had clung to him for a long time before doing the same thing, seeming to spend ages lingering over the skin just below Draco's left elbow, kissing and touching him there even though it wasn't marked at all.

Putting his now-empty glass down on the stone balustrade, Draco unconsciously reached into his left sleeve and scratched briefly at the area Harry had paid so much attention to. The thought that he might be missing Harry was quickly dismissed; that wasn't possible ... after all he'd seen the Gryffindor only yesterday. But, he reminded himself, he wouldn't be back at Hogwarts for nearly two weeks.

And he wanted Harry to be here so he could show the other boy round the Manor and take him to the places he had shared with his grandmother.

His eyes drifted to a path leading into the woods. It was probably overgrown now, but he was sure he could still find his way to the little bridge where he used to play 'poohsticks' with his grandmother. They would each find a suitable twig and, standing on the upstream side of the bridge, drop them in; the winner was the owner of the twig that first appeared on the other side of the bridge. Had Harry ever played that when he was little?

If he followed the path a little further, it would lead to a glade hidden from the house, which his grandmother would often take him to. She would bring a picnic basket and they would spend the afternoon playing games and reading stories. It was there he'd learned about Winnie the Pooh and other childhood favourites, and after she died those stories had been taken away from him.

When he'd started being taught the differences between pure-blood wizards and the rest.

With a frown, Draco realised for the first time that he would never be able to bring Harry to the Manor, unless he wanted Harry to be taken prisoner. He hadn't given much serious thought about what his father might do if he ever got his hands on Harry, but as much as Lucius could be indulgent towards Draco, bringing the Dark Lord's hated enemy into the family home as a friend would never be tolerated, especially not with Voldemort virtually in residence.

Draco shivered despite the warmth of the afternoon. He remembered how angry Lucius had been after he had failed to make friends with Harry back in their first year at Hogwarts, but there had always been a caveat to that anger -- the Malfoy family had to at least pretend to 'like' Harry; he was, after all, 'The Boy Who Lived' and looked on with misplaced reverence because of what had happened to him as a baby.

But then the Dark Lord had returned, and suddenly Harry was a Nonentity as far as Lucius was concerned ... persona non grata ... the son of a Mudblood mother ... not even a proper wizard because of his tainted blood. Lucius had taken great delight in saying things like it was merely a lucky chance that had saved baby Potter from Voldemort and that it was only a matter of time before the irksome brat would be dealt with in the same way as his parents.

And now Draco was sleeping with the enemy.

That thought brought a quiet snort of derision. Wouldn't his father just love that ... the idea that his son had finally managed to make friends as he was supposed to have done nearly seven years ago. Lucius might even approve of his methods if it led to the downfall of Voldemort's enemy. He could imagine the conversation.

"Father, I have finally made Potter think he is my friend."

"Really, Draco? And how did you manage that?"

"I started fucking him."

"Good boy ... now invite him home, and we can hand him over to the Dark Lord."

The trouble was it wasn't a lie; he finally was friends with Harry. In fact, Draco had a vague recollection of telling Harry that he loved him, and he'd thought he'd heard Harry say the same. He'd quickly put the declarations down to the magic Harry had been using, but deep inside him, Draco wondered if it was true. When he thought about Harry, it made him feel, well, strange ... like a bucket of liquid heat had been emptied over him ... and there was this bizarre desire to be with Harry and hold him and keep him safe.

Safe from people like his own beloved father.

And, of course, he was now lying to his father. He'd never done that before the chance meeting with Harry at New Year, and Draco wasn't sure just how long he could keep this charade up. Lucius had to know. Lucius had to be aware of the changes in his son. When Harry had been mentioned at dinner the previous evening, it had been hard to mould his face into the expected sneer and join in with the vilification of the Boy Who Lived.

He reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out a gold ring, engraved with a lion. Turning it into the light, he pursed his lips at the wording -- Seeker on the outside and Gryffindor Quidditch Team -- 1997-1998 on the inside. The ring had been a gift from David and all of the Hogwarts Quidditch players had received them; Draco's was silver with a snake winding its way around the band. It had worried him that Harry, of all people, should have something from the man Draco knew was Voldemort. So he'd caught up with Harry immediately after breakfast and dragged him into a cupboard where he'd asked the other boy to swap rings with him. His own ring might also have been a gift from David, but for some reason it didn't bother Draco so much. Harry had looked at him for a moment, the bewildered expression making Draco want to shag him right there and then. But finally Harry had shrugged and said, "Okay, if you want. But don't think I'm going around wearing a Slytherin ring. Ron would kill me." Then the Gryffindor had stared at him with green-eyed intensity and continued, "Don't you wear this one either, just look after it for me."

Draco twisted the ring absently round and round. Why would David send all the Quidditch team rings? They'd certainly gone down well with the team members, and during the day he kept hearing comments about how great David Morrello was and how a Minister of Sport was at last doing something for the kids. Some were even wondering how to get more information about the Quidditch scholarship programme. Just what would his schoolmates think if they knew who David really was? Would they so readily accept his gifts then?

He frowned. He'd found out David's true identity the previous summer, but just how many others knew that even amongst his followers? Did anyone here at this gathering know that Voldemort in the guise of David Morrello had finagled his way into the government and was even an advisor to that idiot Cornelius Fudge? No wonder Voldemort's army was doing so well down in the southwest. How long before Wiltshire fell under his spell as well?

What if that was Voldemort's game all along? Win them over with kindness and then when he had everyone on his side, tell them who he really was. Would they be happy to be ruled by this ostensibly benevolent man who, in reality, would control with the iron fist of a dictator? Draco knew the history of what it was like during the Terror of Voldemort's last reign, but that view was from those against him -- the winners. But he'd also learned the history from Voldemort's point of view and had grown up with stories of the great things the Dark Lord and his followers had done for the Wizarding world. Hadn't his father told him more than once that the winners always wrote the history? That the books conveniently omitted the great things Voldemort had done in favour of their stories of the Boy Who Lived?

The ring slipped onto the tip of his little finger and Draco stared at it for a moment. He felt a tingle of magic play through him and suddenly putting the ring on didn't seem to be such a bad idea. Why shouldn't he try it ... just to see if it fitted? It couldn't really do any harm even if it was a gift from David. He slid it down to his first knuckle. Didn't David have everyone's best interests at heart?

"Draco."

Draco spun at the sound of his name, recognising his mother's voice instantly. The ring fell to the ground with a clatter against the stone as it bounded a few feet away. He stared as it came to rest in front of a pair of small feet with trim ankles, and watched as a hand reached down to pick it up. Eyes fixed on the hand, he followed it as its owner straightened and held out the hand towards him.

"I think you dropped this."

This voice wasn't his mother's, and Draco's eyes flicked from the extended hand to the person who had spoken to him. He was met by a cascade of black hair and piercing green eyes, and it was all he could do not to gasp out loud.

It was Harry. Harry if he'd been a girl. His mother's hand was resting on the girl's shoulder as if they were the best of friends. Draco suddenly realised he was staring at her, mouth slightly open, and he quickly looked away to meet his mother's pale eyes.

"Draco, this is Gwladus. We didn't think she was going to be able to get here so, rather than disappoint you, your father and I decided to keep her visit a surprise."

Draco reached blindly for the girl's still outstretched hand, scrabbling for the ring, which he shoved back into his pocket. When he looked back at her again, any shock or disbelief had been removed from his face, replaced, he hoped, by a look of pleasant wonder, and the hand he thrust out was steady. "I'm glad you managed to get here. Mother has been telling me all about you."

The hand that took his had a sure grip as she smiled at him. "All good I hope."

"Of course." Narcissa gripped briefly at the two teenagers' shoulders. "Now, Draco, Gwladus only has a couple of hours before she has to return to Durmstrang, so I want you to introduce her to our friends." She patted her son's shoulder. "And show her some of the Manor. After all, it will be her home soon." With that Narcissa walked away, seeming to float along the terrace.

For a moment the two looked at each other still holding hands, and it was Gwladus who finally pulled away. "It's Gwen."

"Sorry?"

"Gwladus is a bit of a mouthful. My family call me Gwen ... except when they're angry with me."

Aware suddenly of the feeling of awkwardness radiating from the girl, Draco gave a proper friendly smile. Now that he looked more closely, he could see she had the colouring of her Welsh heritage; that her hair was actually dark auburn rather than black, and while her eyes were green, they were closer to turquoise. But there was still something about her that reminded him of Harry, and he briefly wondered if the Potters and the Llewelyns were connected. "What do they call you when they're angry?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, but I'd rather keep some secrets for the moment." She gave a hesitant smile. "Should we mingle? Your mother seemed to want us to."

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

... Glastonbury ...

They had left Caliburnus in the early afternoon and it had taken Harry nearly three hours to finally complete the labyrinth around the Tor. The path switched back and forth, and with each footstep he felt sure he could feel the Earth Magic slowly building beneath his feet. The energy seeped up through the grass and into his body buoying him up in his journey. Sirius had turned into Padfoot before they set out, and Harry watched as the large black dog raced around the hillside with boundless energy and probably covering twice the distance Harry had walked. There was something very satisfying about watching Padfoot enjoying his freedom, and Harry wondered what it had been like when all four of the Marauders had changed into their animal forms. Had they caused chaos around Hogwarts and the surrounding countryside? Had anyone else realised just who they all were?

And he wondered what it would be like to have that freedom ... to become an animal with no worries about what expectations other people had of you and not to experience the disappointment when those expectations weren't met. He remembered briefly how pampered Mrs Figg's cats were. Maybe in his next life he'd return as a cat, spending all his life lazing in the sun while someone saw to his every need. But then again, Harry snorted dismissively, he'd probably end up living next door to someone like Dudley, who had spent most of his formative years tormenting those very same cats.

Finally accomplishing the climb, Harry collapsed onto the grass on the sunny side of the hill, sheltered a little from the breeze blowing around the tower and out of sight of most of the other tourists. He was just getting his breath back when Padfoot dived at him, large paws knocking the breath out of him. The large dog rolled over on the grass before staring up at Harry with huge, almost black eyes.

Harry grinned as he reached out to ruffle the shaggy head. "Okay, so you won." Padfoot gave a single low woof. "And now you want me to cast a distraction spell so you can change back without all these people noticing." Harry raised a hand, waving it in the general direction of the dozen or so tourists wandering around the tower. Another woof. "Maybe I'll just leave you like that for the rest of the afternoon. After all, I'm not supposed to do magic outside of school." The dog was on Harry again and, struggling playfully with the creature, he finally gave in. "Okay, okay." Without bothering with his wand, Harry took a breath as he reached for his link with the energy around him and whispered the spell. The area seemed to pulse with magic, and the few people who had been looking around where he and Sirius sat moved away.

Sirius quickly changed back from his Animagus form and joined his godson, lounging in the afternoon sunshine. "You're getting pretty good at that, considering it's only been six weeks or so since we first started."

"Magic without a wand?" Harry glanced briefly at the older man. Being out here with Sirius in a place where no one knew or cared who he might be was intoxicating and he was feeling happy and more relaxed than he'd felt in months. Sirius was like an elder brother rather than someone old enough to be his father, and Harry found himself comfortable in his company. Here, lying on the grassy side of the Tor, all that was important was the sun and its warmth and the sensation of magic tickling at his skin.

"Mmm."

Harry shrugged. "The energy here is so strong; it's like I could cut you a slice of it. Which way is Avebury?"

"Avebury?" Sirius plucked a blade of grass. "You should be able to feel the energy lines."

"Okay." Harry lay back on the grass, his hands weaving into the blades as he closed his eyes. Frowning, he finally turned onto his front as if to hug the ground beneath him. "The energy's all over the place." He looked up at Sirius. "I can sense it, but I have no idea where any of it's going."

"It'll come, just relax into it." Sirius chewed on the blade.

Harry gave a snort as he rolled back onto his side. "So says the man who admitted to knowing nothing about any of this."

"I'll have you know people think I'm an expert on many, many things." He grinned at Harry. "Earth Magic just isn't one of them."

"So what are you doing here with me, then?"

"I'm spending quality time with my godson, and we just might manage to have you sort out those energy lines before nightfall, if we're lucky."

The two lay side-by-side in companionable silence, and Harry found himself watching the clouds as they floated across the otherwise blue sky. It reminded him a little of the journey he'd taken with the Boy at the pool in the Forbidden Forest. The Boy had taken on Draco's form and explained he was the manifestation of Earth Magic and was asking for Harry's help in healing the land of Tom Riddle's contaminated magic. As he'd explained to Harry how Voldemort's corruption had spread, he'd used other forms -- Hermione, James and Lily. Hermione had shown him the way the energy lines criss-crossed the countryside. Lily had shown him how to heal one of the areas of Darkness, and James....

His father had shown him the Burrow and how Riddle's Darkness was slowly encroaching on the place Harry had spent many happy times since finding out he was a wizard. But all that happiness had been taken from that loving family's home the previous summer when a group of Death Eaters had attacked.

Harry's fingers tangled into the grass again and suddenly he realised he could sense the Burrow and the magic flowing around it. He gasped quietly at the sensation, not wanting to break the link but scared of it at the same time. Closing his eyes, an image flowed into his mind, first of the Burrow the last time he'd seen it in person, and then as it was now ... dead, with broken windows and peeling paint. If he concentrated hard, he could sense the Darkness as it flowed. When the image of his father had taken him to the Burrow, the Dark Magic had overcome only part of it, but now the whole building had been inundated.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

He felt Sirius' hand touch his arm. "Yes ... I ... yes." He opened his eyes and even though he was on the hillside, he was still very aware of what he sensed at the Burrow. "I was just thinking about last summer and staying at the Burrow, and suddenly I felt the link to it."

"Really?"

Harry nodded and let go of the grass in the hope that it would break the link. When it didn't, he almost panicked, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a voice telling him to relax ... that if he did, he could turn off the connection. He listened, relieved when the sensation of the magic finally dissipated, but the aftereffects of the Dark Magic flowed over him like a cold, viscous liquid; it chilled him to the bone. Quickly reaching for his backpack, he rummaged for his sweatshirt and pulled it on, rubbing vigorously at his arms. "Really. It was...." He shivered. "I was thinking about the Burrow and suddenly I was there ... well, not there, I was still here, but I could see it, like watching a film in my head. And it felt like I was there rather than here."

"And now?"

"Well, I'm back here now and cold as hell. The whole place seems to be full of Dark Magic, Sirius. It was horrible." Harry shivered again despite the fact he was beginning to feel warmer.

Sirius gave a shrug. "It is, Harry. I've been back there a couple of times since the Weasleys moved out. Molly and Arthur couldn't stay there after what happened, and the Aurors haven't been able to cleanse the area."

Harry flopped back onto the grass, his mouth pressed in a thin hard line. "It's my fault."

"Of course it isn't." Sirius rolled onto his side, staring hard at his godson.

"It is ... if I hadn't...." Harry paused, the conversation stirring memories that destroyed the tranquillity he'd felt only a short while ago.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." He looked at his godfather. The concern on the older man's face was only too visible, and the need to finally tell someone what had happened overcame the need to keep it secret. "But okay." With an audible sigh he returned his gaze to the clouds, unable to meet Sirius' eyes as he talked.

"It started when I got back to Kings Cross last July for the summer holiday and Uncle Vernon wasn't there to meet me. I said goodbye to everyone, but Hermione's parents wouldn't leave even though I told them I was okay and that they were probably held up in the traffic." Harry frowned at the memory. "In the end I was just beginning to wonder how I'd get home and whether I dared use magic, when Mr Granger said he'd take me."

"That was good of him."

"He's nice ... so is Hermione's mum. When we got to Privet Drive ... where the Dursleys live...."

"I know; I went there once, remember ... that night you caught the Knight Bus."

Harry turned his head, just enough to meet Sirius' dark blue eyes. "How can I forget? You gave me a fright that night."

"Sorry. I never meant to scare you. I was going to change back and try to talk to you, but by the time I'd done that, you were already on the Bus."

"If I'd known who you were...." Harry turned back to the clouds; sure that he could see a large dog in one of them. "No one had ever told me I had a godfather before then." Sirius' hand lightly touched his arm and Harry turned back again, knowing that his own eyes mirrored the sadness he could see on the man's face. "Anyway, we got to Privet Drive and found out they'd all gone away on some cruise Aunt Petunia had won ... they'd left a note with the next-door neighbour. They'd even taken the spare door key hidden under a stone in the back garden so I couldn't get in even if I'd wanted to. I was just considering breaking in when Mr Granger insisted I go back home with them. We sent Hedwig with a note to Professor Dumbledore so he'd know where I was."

"Did Albus let you stay?"

Harry nodded. "I got to stay there until my birthday ... nearly a whole month. The Grangers made me so welcome and even though Hermione made me do my homework, we had a great time. Ron and Ginny came over for my birthday, and then I went to stay at the Burrow.

"I'd been there for about a week when Ron and I ended up on our own one day. Ginny had stayed with Hermione, and Mr and Mrs Weasley had gone to London. The weather was awful ... really wet ... and we were inside playing chess when I thought I heard something. Ron told me not to be silly and that it was probably just the ghoul in the attic, but you know what it's like when you think something is wrong ... you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise and feel like you're being watched."

Sirius nodded. "I know the feeling."

"The air in the room sort of shifted. I hadn't realised at the time what caused it, but now I know it's what happens when you've got the counter-spells for wards and Apparate through them. Suddenly there were two Death Eaters in the sitting room ... I could see them through the kitchen door. Ron had his back to the door so I grabbed at him and tried to pull him out of sight in the hope they wouldn't see us there in the kitchen. When he realised what was going on, he stopped complaining and just let me drag him towards the door leading out into the garden. You know, Sirius, Ron was really calm about the whole thing ... two Death Eaters had Apparated into his house, and he didn't look scared at all."

"Ron's a brave boy."

"I know he is ... he's risked his life for me more than once, and he really held it together this time. We managed to get outside only to find that there were more Death Eaters in the garden. I had my wand with me, but Ron had left his on the kitchen table. For a minute I thought about Accio-ing my Invisibility Cloak, but we'd been out on our brooms earlier, and they were both still by the door. Ron didn't think it was a good idea, but I thought we could fly away." Harry sighed. "As it turned out, Ron was right ... it was a stupid idea. We both kicked off into the air, and it looked like we were going to get away when one of the Death Eaters fired off a curse aimed at me. I dived out of the way, but hadn't realised Ron was in the line of fire, and the curse hit him instead."

"And that's when he came off his broom?"

Harry nodded. "I tried to catch him, but it was raining, and he slipped from my arms and landed on his leg. I swear, Sirius, I could hear his bones shatter as he hit the ground. By then, one of the Death Eaters was almost on us. I was holding Ron, wondering how I could get him away. The rain got heavier, and there was thunder and lightning crashing all around. The Death Eater stopped about ten feet away, pointed his wand, and I just knew he was going to cast a killing curse."

"How?"

"I don't know really. I just did. Now that I know about Earth Magic, I think I could feel him drawing on the energy." He looked across at Sirius. "Remember when you made me build that protective barrier, well, I think I might have done the same thing then in front of myself and Ron, but it happened without me even thinking about it ... it was just there. I heard the man say the killing curse ... and I remember the green light crackling around us, and then it was like I'd deflected it back off of the barrier at him. It hit him square on the chest, and he dropped liked a stone. I felt him die, Sirius ... I killed him."

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

... Malfoy Manor ...

They mingled, and Draco graciously accepted the congratulatory remarks from his guests. He showed Gwen the elegant ballroom and the library, but somehow they ended up following the surprisingly clear path to the bridge over the small stream.

"It's beautiful." She stood in the centre of the bridge, turning in a small circle. "This is so different from my home."

"What's it like?" Draco bent down, picking up a small twig.

"Oh, it's on a headland overlooking the sea. Very wild and very dangerous." Her voice had a lilt that Draco found very pleasant and easy to listen to, and he wondered for a moment if she could sing. "I think you'd like it."

He dropped the twig into the stream, trying to stroll nonchalantly over to the other side of the bridge to watch it float out. All afternoon they'd both steered carefully away from the fact their respective parents wanted them to marry, and now they were talking about homes. "I like the sea."

"Good. Have you decided what you want to do when you finish school?"

"No." He shrugged. Once he'd assumed he would work with his father, then Harry had come along and thrown everything into chaos. Now he had the awful feeling his prospective father-in-law expected him to join the family business. "I was thinking of trying out for a few Quidditch teams." It was, of course, a lie. "Look, Gwen, I know this is difficult, and we don't even know each other...."

"I know." She was nodding in agreement. "We can start writing ... get to know one another."

"Yes, it's just that...." Draco paused. Just what? Just that he was seeing someone else? That while she might be a pretty and intelligent girl with a sharp wit, he didn't want to marry her? "Yes," he finally said, "we could write."

She looked away as if composing herself and eventually looked back. "I'll have to go soon. I've got a practical test later."

"Our exams don't take place until June."

Gwen nodded. "Most of ours aren't until then. Just some of the practicals take place now. Oh, I almost forgot, I have a gift for you." She reached into her pocket. "Well, it's from the family really."

"Thanks." Draco took the small silver wrapped box and quickly opened it. Inside was a pair of Welsh dragon cufflinks. He took one out, watching the gold glint in the sun.

"The gold comes from the family mines, and the eyes are made of Bluestone."

"Very nice. Thanks," he repeated as he suddenly realised he had no idea when Gwen's birthday was and even if she was older or younger than he was. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned forward and gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

She smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushing. Then suddenly she bent down, picked up a twig and gestured at the river. "Would you like a race before we go back?"

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

... Glastonbury ...

Sirius watched Harry for what seemed like forever. The boy had stilled completely, his glasses in one hand while his other arm was thrown across his face as though shielding his eyes from the sun. He wondered for a moment whether Harry was crying, but his stillness belied the fact. Then he saw a single tear track down the boy's cheek.

"You didn't kill him, Harry," Sirius whispered, his face close to Harry's but not touching him. "The Death Eater cast the curse, not you."

"I directed it back at him." The emotion in Harry's voice was raw, and Sirius winced at the sound. "I felt the moment the life was squeezed out of him. I could have directed the curse anywhere, but I sent it back to him and killed him." Harry finally removed his arm and turned watery eyes towards his godfather. "It was horrible, Sirius. One second he was alive, and the next he was dead, and I felt the split second his life ended. Sometimes I think I can still feel it now ... that it will be with me forever."

"That's why it's an Unforgivable, Harry."

"I never want to have to feel that again." Harry swallowed, throat working, as he tried to control his tears. "How can people use it if that's what happens every time?"

Sirius gave a shrug remembering, only too well the first time he'd used the Unforgivable. He understood what Harry was saying, but the sensation attached to the curse clearly hadn't been as strong as it had for Harry. He'd used it twice more in the months leading up to James and Lily's deaths, and each time it seemed to get easier. Or maybe he was so angry -- so full of hate for what the Death Eaters had done to their Muggle captives -- that he'd wanted to kill them. He'd learned that while training to be an Auror -- you had to want to use the curses to make them work really well.

But it did surprise him to hear that the Death Eater had been killed by a deflected curse. He'd seen the Auror's report which had attributed the killing curse to 'person or persons unknown'. The curse had been cast by the man's own wand, which had still been clasped in his dead hand when the Auror team had Apparated to the Burrow within moments of the Avada Kedavra having been uttered. Suddenly what had happened when Harry had been a baby made sense; Lily's sacrifice had been more than the strong magic of a mother's love. It had awakened her son's unique connection to Earth Magic, and that had allowed him to shield himself from Voldemort's curse. Even as an infant, Harry had deflected it, unintentionally, back at the person who had tried to kill him, who had only survived because of his own link to the same source of magic.

A knot of fear began to tighten in Sirius' stomach. He'd always known Harry was a powerful wizard, but this magic might be stronger than even Albus had imagined. A hard smile tugged at the corner of his mouth -- no, unfortunately for Harry, Albus always knew exactly what he was doing.

"Harry, it's hurting you so much because basically you're a good person. Mix the curse with Dark Magic and people start to lose their humanity. They stop caring about what they do."

"But if there's a war ... if we have to fight and ... and kill people...."

"Then you'll do what you have to do, just like your father did, and I did, and lots of other people as well."

"I don't know if I can, not again." Harry turned away, staring off into the distance. "When I got back to school, I could hear people talking about how I'd saved Ron, but they didn't know what had really happened and I hated the thought of them finding out. The Minister decided he didn't want people to know that there had been a Death Eater attack -- you know what Fudge is like, still pretending Voldemort isn't really a problem. So the story was that Ron was injured in a flying accident, but there were whispers about what really happened, especially when the Weasleys moved out of the Burrow. Can you imagine what people would say if they found out ... Harry Potter, the Boy Who Murdered. So I didn't tell anyone. I--" Harry paused. "What if I deflected a curse, even a simple one, back at someone again and they got injured? What if I killed someone?"

Sirius reached for his godson's shoulder, pulling him gently to face him. "Is that why you've taken to spending so much time on your own?"

Harry nodded. "It makes me feel safer." He gave a sad little smile. "Plus my marks have improved because I'm studying more. I might actually pass my N.E.W.Ts after all. It's just that when I'm on my own no one expects anything of me. I mean, I don't want to be on my own all the time, but sometimes it's nice...." A little shrug. "Just to be out of Hogwarts and away from the expectations of everyone else."

"I know. My parents had high expectations for me, which I never lived up to." Sirius knew his expression was grim. It was an expression he reserved specifically for talk of his parents ... pure-blood wizards who had never forgiven him for what they saw as his perfidious defection. He'd run away from home just after his sixteenth birthday and had lived with the Potters until he was old enough to get a place of his own.

"Are they still alive ... your parents?"

"No, my father died during the war and mother died about twelve years ago. She never forgave me and left word that I wasn't to attend her funeral. Considering I was in Azkaban, the chances of me getting there were pretty remote anyway." The sarcasm in his tone was only too apparent. "And considering they thought I'd killed all those Muggles, betrayed your parents and was You-Know-Who's right-hand man, I can't but laugh at the irony of it all. Her last words to me when I left were that I was a blood traitor, yet there I was locked up for being one of his followers." He gave a huff, silencing any further questions from Harry with a look. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about them ... at least not now."

"Okay, but I'm going to remember this -- I want to know more." Harry had turned onto his side again, head resting on his upturned hand. "After the curse got deflected back, I think I must have Apparated out of the immediate area, taking Ron with me."

"You Apparated with someone else?" Sirius couldn't hide his surprise. Apparating on your own was advanced magic, which was why children weren't allowed to attempt it, but to take someone else with you? It was something he wouldn't attempt unless it was a dire emergency.

"Well, I don't know. One minute I was in the garden and the next behind a hedge a couple of fields away. At least that's where the Aurors found us. They took Ron to hospital and me back to the house where they questioned me for what seemed like hours ... it only stopped when you turned up with Professor Dumbledore."

Sirius nodded. He'd been with the headmaster when word of the attack had reached Albus and nothing in the world would have prevented Sirius from accompanying him. Harry had been in the Burrow kitchen, all colour drained from his face, hands held tightly in his lap as if to stop them shaking. His godson had been surrounded by what looked to be almost every Auror from the Ministry.

"And the rest you know. I was sent back to the Dursleys afterwards and stayed there the rest of the summer. Ron ended up in hospital for the rest of the holiday and missed the first two weeks of school. They were worried at first that they might not be able to repair the damage to his leg, but in the end he was okay ... except for the limp." Harry paused, frowning a little. "And I think that's getting better. He's worried the injury might stop him from being picked for Auror school."

"Is that what he wants to do?"

"That -- or play for Chudley Cannons." Harry smiled. "He thinks he's going to be their secret weapon."

"What about you, Harry? Auror or professional Quidditch player?"

"I don't think I'm going to get the chance to be either; at least not until after the war." Harry gave a deep sigh. "It's coming isn't it? The war."

Sirius nodded. "It's already here, Harry. Not an out-and-out fight, but he's taking over by stealth. His followers mutter things in public about how Muggles are going to destroy our world and that the only way to stop them is to cut our world off from theirs. There's a Bill before Parliament at the moment that will prevent magical people trading with Muggles unless they apply for licences first."

"Sirius." Harry suddenly sat up. "You didn't really bring me here just to play with the ley lines did you? What's the real reason we're here?"

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

... Malfoy Manor ...

The drawing room was awash with discarded tissue paper and wrappings, which the house-elves were desperate to start clearing up. Draco would occasionally stare hard at one as it made a tentative reach for a piece of the paper, and he was pleased to see the creature back away. The head elf, Bobbin, was busily collecting gift tags and writing a list of gifts and who had sent them.

The last guests from the garden party had left about an hour before and Draco was finally able to relax a little. He'd changed out of the straitjacket robes into something more comfortable and was now with his parents working his way through the vast heap of birthday presents.

As well as the new broom, his father had presented him with his own personal coat of arms and monogram during the party. It was based on the Malfoy crest, but with the addition of a dragon motif. Being the owner of Gwen's Welsh Dragon cufflinks, Draco now realised the dragon was based on that particular dragon. It was certainly not the Chinese dragon Harry had drawn on his arm.

It didn't take him long to realise that the gifts were generally 'useful' items and most had his new monogram on them. He had never seen so much crystal or silver in his life, not to mention enough linen to stock a house of his own.

Of course, there were things he liked, such as a small silver flask, which he was already planning on taking back to school filled with his father's favourite brandy, and the interesting looking bottle of pear wine. There was also an antique knife with a carved ivory handle and the most exquisitely crafted measuring kit for potions making. Then there were things he would have to be circumspect with -- ancient texts and expensive potions ingredients to start his own storeroom, some of which were barely legal.

He wasn't quite sure about the family portrait of himself and his parents. It certainly wasn't something he wanted in his own rooms at the moment. Nor could he think of anyplace he'd want to hang the tapestry showing Voldemort surrounded by his loyal Death Eaters subduing the Muggle masses anywhere at all. As for the rather hefty 'Magical Mansions of Wiltshire', that seemed like a wonderful way of dealing with insomnia. He also wasn't particularly enamoured with a set of ostentatious silver goblets with a serpent and dragon winding around the stems or the goblet with dragons' claws ... real dragons' claws ... at the base.

Something else he did intend taking back to school was a wonderful snow globe. This one didn't just have falling snow; each time he shook it there would be something different falling. Earlier the two little figures inside had been deluged by rain, and this time there were droplets of fire raining down as the figures ran desperately around the interior trying to get away.

As he finished unwrapping the last present (a new wax seal for his letters), he smiled up at his parents who were both looking indulgently at him. "It's going to take me the rest of my holiday to write the thank you letters."

Lucius smiled. "I think it's time we moved you into the south wing ... a space of your own. You'll want your own household once you're married. Your mother has already picked out two house-elves for you." He glanced across at Narcissa, then back at his son. "And we have one more gift for you to complete your day."

Draco's attention piqued, and his eyebrow arched in question. "Oh?"

"Yes, you'll find out what it is later, and we will have a small supper party this evening as well. Your mother has already laid out your clothes for the event."

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

... Glastonbury ...

Sirius had known that sooner or later he would have to tell his godson why they were both on the side of a wind-swept hill. It had been so nice up to that point -- talking to Harry, just being there. He even thought he could pretend that there wasn't an ulterior motive to their visit, that this really was just a pleasant trip. As he watched the dark-haired boy at his side, green eyes questioning, he couldn't help but think of Harry's parents. Harry probably got fed up of being told just how much he looked like James or how his eyes reminded people of Lily, but sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn't with James ... that this boy wasn't his childhood friend. He was grateful for the green eyes really; at least when he saw them, he would remember just who the boy was. And just what other people expected of a person who didn't look strong enough to protect himself, let alone wizarding-kind.

Albus should have told Harry what was going on, he quickly decided. It wasn't his role to coach the boy in magic that he didn't understand and which, if he were honest, Sirius knew scared him.

He stared for a moment at the blade of grass, which he'd been wrapping round and round his fingers. It had almost disintegrated, and he quickly tossed it to one side. "You're right; I didn't bring you here just so we could have a friendly little chat. It's You-Know-Who, Harry."

Rolling onto his back, Harry groaned, his arm coming up to shield his eyes from the sun. "It's always Voldemort." There was no anger or recrimination in the boy's tone, just unhappy acceptance. He raised his arm enough for Sirius to see green eyes glinting dangerously. "And if you don't call him by his name, I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Okay." Sirius gave an inner shudder. He didn't mind using the Dark Lord's name normally, but at the moment he would rather not use it at all. If he didn't say the name, he could pretend this wasn't real. "Remember about the Hallows Capstone being stolen from Parliament?" Harry nodded. "No one really knew why Voldemort might have pulled off such an audacious raid, but one of Albus' spies found out the reason. Voldemort is planning to use the stone to open up one of the energy points. If he succeeds, he'll finally be able to tap into Earth Magic. If he does that, he'll be virtually invincible, and he'll have the power to get exactly what he's been trying to achieve all these years -- immortality."

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

Evening ...

... Malfoy Manor ...

Draco wasn't quite sure why he'd brought Harry's birthday gifts home with him; after all, he couldn't show them to anyone. That, in itself, didn't worry him. He actually liked the idea that the gifts didn't have to be shared with anyone else. When he took things like the snow globe back to school, everyone would want to have a go with it, and the last thing he wanted was for his friends to paw at either the stuffed toy lion or the little box.

And just imagine if one of them managed to open the box when he'd spent hours without succeeding?

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he once again fiddled with the box, shaking it gently. He frowned as whatever was inside rattled. Harry had offered more than once to tell him how to open the box, but Draco had refused to give in with a characteristic raise of his chin. A Muggle box was not going to get the better of him, and he was determined to solve this puzzle himself.

He looked up as the door to his room opened and his father strode in. Almost without thinking, his free hand went down to the lion by his hip and he shoved it out of sight under the covers, but it was too late to do anything with the box.

Lucius smiled as he crossed the large room. He was dressed in surprisingly simple deep red robes and folded over one arm was what Draco assumed was another set in the same colour. "Are you ready?" The robes were laid carefully on the bed.

Draco nodded and, as he came to his feet, he put the box down in what he hoped was a casual manner. "Yes, father." He pulled at the hem of the cream-coloured sleeveless tunic he was wearing, trying not to fiddle or look worried as Lucius picked up the box.

"Another gift?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Who is it from?"

"From someone at school." Draco shrugged. "Pansy ... Pansy Parkinson. You remember her." The lie flowed easily and, he hoped, smoothly.

"Ah yes ... the Parkinsons." Lucius handed the box back. "Nice family. It's a shame her family blood is tainted -- she would have made a good catch otherwise." He briefly clasped his son's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, Draco, always remember that."

Draco smiled as his father reached for the robes and held them up. "You know I always try to do my best, father." He pulled on the plain garment, smoothing a hand down the front. It had wide sleeves and, unlike his father's, there was no clasp.

"You do and now it's time." Lucius straightened the collar line of his son's robes.

"Time?"

"For you to pledge yourself to the Order and take the Mark."

"What? I...." The words were almost inaudible as Draco froze to the spot. He felt like someone had tipped a bucket of ice-cold water over him. "No ... father ... I'm not...."

Lucius squeezed both of Draco's shoulders, the touch a cross between reassurance and finality. "Of course, you're worried; I was at my initiation. But this is your moment, Draco, your time. You are the generation who will follow on, and you will be one of the leaders."

Harry's words and fears spiralled through him, and Draco tried to step away, but the grip on his shoulders was too strong. "No...."

"And you are to be so honoured, Draco. Lord Voldemort saved you when you were a baby for this moment. Don't let yourself down. Don't let me down."

With that Lucius reached into his pocket and took out a tiny pin, which he quickly fixed to Draco's robes. "This is from him -- from your Lord -- and it will take you to him."

Later ... much later ... Draco would realise the pin had been decorated with a skull which had a snake coming from its mouth -- Morsmordre. But at that moment, he had no chance to take anything in. As his father pressed his hand against the pin, Draco felt himself surrounded by magic. He tried to talk, to say something to stop what was happening, but instead he felt the room around him evaporating into blackness.

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

... Glastonbury ...

"Welcome back, Harry, I'm pleased to see you again."

Harry's eyes snapped up at the familiar voice, expecting for a moment to see Draco, but he knew instantly that the person standing a few feet away from him wasn't his lover. He had once again taken Snape's potion and after a few moments had found himself in a world where everything seemed to be carved out of ice and frozen in a moment in time. The only things coloured in this world were himself and the newcomer ... the Boy whom he had first met just over two weeks ago when Sirius had taken him to an enchanted pool in the Forbidden Forest. Back then it had chosen to appear to him as Draco, and it had chosen to use that same persona this time.

His gaze finally came to rest on the two figures that were part of that frozen, icy tableau -- his godfather and himself. Sirius was sitting on the hillside of the Tor while Harry lay stretched out on the grass beside him. The two figures were holding hands as they had done on that first occasion Harry had connected with the Earth Magic. He had used the potion three more times since that first occasion and each time had connected with the Magic, but the Boy had only shown himself on that first occasion.

"Harry?"

He looked up again. "Sorry, it's just so ... strange ... me being here with you while I'm still there in the other world. It's like...."

"Magic?" The Boy smirked, the expression so like Draco it made Harry tremble a little.

"Yeah." He smiled. "I didn't expect you to be here."

"Why not?"

"Well, you only came that once ... the first time."

"I said I would always be here to help when you needed me. Those other times you were fine on your own, but this time is different. This time it's important." The Boy paused, glancing over his shoulder as if looking at something in the distance. "Do you feel it, Harry?"

Harry nodded as he took a step towards the Boy and followed his gaze. He could feel it; something was interfering with the Magic around him. "It's like ... like something has just ... died." The Boy nodded, and Harry let out a hiss as his scar gave a twinge of pain. "It's Voldemort." Another nod. For a moment the two stood next to each other, staring at something they couldn't see but which both could feel. "Sirius told me Voldemort was going to do a ritual -- something that will link him to Earth Magic."

"Yes, Tom Riddle has waited for seventeen years for this moment, for the planets to be aligned perfectly, and for his Key to come of age."

"What do I have to do?"

"Simple, Harry. Ride the Magic when the power point is opened, and close it down before Riddle manages to link himself to it." The Boy's lip quirked in a half smile.

"Oh, just that." Harry matched the look. "And how can I do it?"

"The same way you managed to overcome the areas of Darkness ... you are tuned to the Magic. But this time you won't have the luxury of taking as long as you want. The Key will unlock the Magic, and you must wait until the moment Riddle steps into it before locking the power point again."

"Why can't I just shut it down at once?"

"Because that way Riddle can try again. All he needs is his Key, and the right planetary alignment. But once he has stepped into the Magic, you can lock him from using that point forever."

"Couldn't he use one of the other points ... like this one here at Glastonbury or the one at Hogwarts?"

"Of course, but first he has to find the right Key, and there is only one Key alive for each."

"And if I don't manage to close it in time?"

"Then he will succeed, and he will have all the things he's craved since he first realised he had inherited a connection to Earth Magic. He will be able to access all the power he has ever wanted, and with that power he will attain a real body instead of the shell he's worn since he was resurrected three years ago. And in that body, he will have as close to immortality as a human can know because it will age very slowly." The Boy sighed. "Once he has that power, I am not sure I will be able to hold back the tide of Darkness any longer."

Harry looked quickly at the Boy and, for the first time, realised he didn't look solid any longer. The Boy looked a little hazy and indistinct around the edges, and Harry was reminded of Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. "But...."

"If he succeeds in this, he will be able to bend the Magic to his will."

Harry felt his mouth go suddenly dry and fear blossomed deep inside. It was one thing to take on Voldemort, but this was different. If he failed this time, the consequences didn't bear thinking about. It had sounded so easy when Sirius had told him of Voldemort's plans -- just put up a block to stop the Dark Lord accessing the Magic -- but now....

"What if I can't...?" His voice cracked.

"Stop him?" The Boy raised a questioning eyebrow, and Harry gave a single nod. "Have faith, Harry."

With that the Boy reached for his hand and Harry felt Magic surge around him.

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

... Malfoy Manor ...

Cloud bounced on the balls of his feet, nervous excitement fuelling the adrenalin surge flooding through him. He was desperate to wipe away the thin film of sweat from his upper lip and forehead, but that would mean removing his mask; somehow the thought of doing that out here surrounded by his fellow Death Eaters chilled the moisture. He didn't want to show any fear, especially not at his first ever gathering, and especially not here in front of David.

The mask stopped him from looking to his left or right without turning his head, so instead he just looked forward, eyes wide as he recognised the large circular stone in the centre of the gathering. It was the Hallows Capstone, which he remembered seeing as a child on a visit to the Parliament at Stonehenge. The energy seemed to roll off it in waves, and he was sure it was making him feel all tingly ... like the static in the air just after a lightning strike. He just wished Shadow were here, in the circle, to experience it close up.

He knew Shadow was watching from the raised terrace, and finally he looked round, the movement making him feel a little light-headed; he wondered what had been in the wine he'd drunk much too quickly earlier. He'd been shocked that his mentor wasn't to be part of the circle, and Shadow's response was a quick barking laugh. "Do you think he'd let me," Shadow had responded as though talking to a child, "one who isn't pure-blood, stand with his elite? No, I will watch from here." He thought he could make out the man in the dusky light, but the circle of robed and masked figures was surrounded by an outer circle of flickering torches that made the house and the surrounding countryside fade into a false darkness.

As he tried to make out his mentor, Cloud felt everyone in the circle tense. He turned back just as each person dropped to their knees and, as he joined them, he felt the energy flowing from the Hallows change. It sparked and fluctuated as a robed figure appeared on the stone and even though a hood shrouded the newcomer's face, he knew who it was.

David.

Fingers clutching at the grass, Cloud knew he shouldn't look. Shadow had told him he should keep his head bowed until their master gave permission to rise, but he had to see his Dark Lord.

The magical energy cast the Hallows in an eerie white light, which reflected off the white robes and masks of the assembled Death Eaters. It seemed to reflect back to the centre of the circle, illuminating the red-robed figure who stood there surveying his followers.

Cloud gasped as he looked on the person he'd only ever seen as the handsome David. This was ... was.... He swallowed at the bile rising in his throat as the being lowered his hood, revealing a hairless, deathly white head, a nose with slits for nostrils and livid blood-red eyes. Those eyes roved over the gathering, and Cloud quickly looked down as they seemed to rest on him, his Dark Mark prickling painfully as if the Dark Lord had known Cloud had been watching him. This was, he realised, the being Harry saw in his dreams and whom Harry had drawn a picture of after claiming to have faced him in reality more than once. This wasn't the person he'd been privileged to know for the last three years ... this was....

"Arise, my friends."

The familiar voice interrupted Cloud's thoughts, and in a rustle of fabric the assembled group came to their feet. When he looked back at the red-robed figure a second time, the snake-like features had disappeared and once again David ... his David ... stood before them. Maybe he'd been mistaken. Maybe what he'd seen before had been an illusion created by the magic.

"Welcome." David's voice boomed over the grounds as he stepped down from the Hallows and strode over to the circle of Death Eaters; those closest to him dropped back to their knees, reaching for the hem of his robe. "Welcome to an event that will mould our future and the future of Wizarding kind; not only in Britain, but in the rest of the world as well."

As he talked, David walked slowly around the circle, giving each of his followers time to drop to the ground and pay him due homage by kissing the hem of his robe.

"Tonight, my friends, you will be privileged to bear witness to an event which has taken seventeen years to reach fruition. An event that will go down in the annals of our history as the point where all things changed. This place holds the key to my plan." His arm swept in a wide arc, taking in the stone where the energy seemed to pulse in time with his words. "This is one of the locations where Earth Magic ... that potent force from which we all gain our powers ... pools on the surface. I intend to unlock that Magic ... Magic that is my birthright ... and once I have united myself with these forces, nothing will be impossible. No one will stand in our way. And you, my friends, will all know what it feels like to wield such power. Through the Mark that binds us in life and death, all of you will be able to access Earth Magic. You will know how it feels to dispense with your wands and manipulate magic with a mere thought."

Around Cloud the other Death Eaters moaned with suppressed excitement. Even Cloud was impressed. Wandless magic? He knew a few people had the ability to work magic without wands, but if this magic were available to a huge group it would shift the whole balance of power in the Wizarding world. David had always told him that he could make him a powerful wizard and here he was keeping to his word. Was that the magic he could feel now radiating from the Hallows?

He let out a little gasp as he realised David had finally reached him in his journey around the circle and almost without thinking he dropped to his knees, hands scrabbling for the red material of the Dark Lord's robe. As he raised it to his mouth, he felt a hand rest on his head. It felt like a benediction, and Cloud all but swooned at the touch. David hadn't touched any of the other Death Eaters, yet he had bestowed that honour on his newest follower.

With one last caress, David turned back to face the circle of Death Eaters. "But first, we are going to welcome a new member to our select brotherhood. He is from an old and venerable family who can trace their lineage back to the time of Salazar Slytherin. His father has served in our ranks for many years, and I know the son will serve equally as well. He is my Key, friends. He is our Key because he is the one who will unlock the Earth Magic for all of us to use." He gestured towards the Hallows.

Cloud came back to his feet, watching as the magic gushed, cascading like a fountain into the air, and then settled leaving in its wake two figures, both clothed in red to match David. He remember his own initiation, when he'd been the one in the red robes, but there had been no one to stand with him ... no father figure or family friend to act as his mentor. And now he understood why Shadow had refused. Shadow wasn't a Death Eater ... Shadow wasn't a pure-blood and would never be accepted into these illustrious ranks.

Yet Malfoy ... the little ferret ... not only had a father, but also probably countless others who would have stood with him. His thoughts tinged with a hatred that had grown over the last seven years. They might be on the same side now, but that didn't mean he had to like the git. He watched as Lucius Malfoy placed a hand on his son's shoulder, pushing him down to his knees before he, too, knelt on the Hallows. There, father and son waited until David had joined them. Then, Lucius spoke, his words addressed to David but loud enough for all to hear.

"My Master, I present my son, Draco."

Cloud sneered. There had been no one to present him at his initiation, no formal introduction to the Dark Lord, just David's welcome. He watched closely as Lucius reached a hand to the red robes of their master, but Draco didn't move; he seemed to be frozen, as if in fear or shock, and it was only when Lucius pulled the cloth towards him that Draco finally took it in his hands.

The circle of people murmured a greeting in response, and as each stage of the ceremony took place, Cloud joined in with the responses, remembering them from his own initiation just over a month earlier on his eighteenth birthday. He tried to remember his life before then ... before he'd finally dedicated himself to David's service, but surprisingly he didn't really remember what it had been like before then. It was as if everything had changed at that point, as if David's Mark had seeped into his very soul. He had already committed himself to David the previous summer during a private ceremony, however. It was then that David had asked Cloud to turn Harry over to him and had arranged the attack at the Burrow. Of course, it had all gone wrong, and Harry believed himself responsible for Cloud's injuries, but the truth was that his leg was nowhere near as badly damaged as people had believed. David had people everywhere, including on the staff of St Mungo's, and it had been easy to make believe he had been badly injured. He'd felt awful about lying to his mother and father and, occasionally, sorry that Harry felt so responsible for what had happened, but the truth was he'd made the decision about what path his life would take and that was with David.

A loud crack of magical thunder brought Cloud from his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see Draco and his father back on their feet. His heart began to pound as he realised what would happen next ... first the blood oath and then the Marking, and he could feel his own Mark itch in anticipation of the joining. Eyes fixed on the Hallows, he realised there was someone on the ground, cowering before the Dark Lord.

It was too dark to see who the person was, but Cloud licked his lips in anticipation. It was probably a Muggle ... he remembered vividly the Muggle who'd been presented to him at his initiation. It had been a man in his early forties, and he remembered all too clearly that the man's fear had felt almost as though it had been some sort of drug ... an aphrodisiac ... the power racing through his body.

And then, almost as if the sensation couldn't get any better, he remembered how it had felt as he'd sucked the life from the man. As the Muggle had died, he'd felt the man's life force flow into him. For a moment he'd been shocked because it had felt like magic ... as though he was drinking the man's magical essence from his body and as if David was drinking it through him. But Muggles didn't have magic, he'd reminded himself, so this must have been something else.

Whatever it was, it had felt so good, and he'd dreamed of feeling the same power and magic again over the last month. And now Draco was going to experience that feeling of euphoria and with it that touch of David in the very essence of his own being. He felt jealousy building in the pit of his stomach and wondered if the others in the circle were experiencing the same thing -- that someone else was going to feel the exhilarated mixture of power and longing brought by linking with the most powerful wizard in the world.

On the little stage that the Hallows had become, Lucius had stepped behind his son. He whispered something into Draco's ear, but the boy didn't move except for a shake of his head.

Later, when Cloud's mind finally came down from the anticipation and adrenalin rush that currently coloured his thoughts, he would replay this moment over and over. He would remember that Draco wasn't still but had been trying to leave and that it was Lucius' arms around him that were keeping him in place.

He would remember that while the wand was in Draco's hand, Lucius' own hand was clasped around his son's, holding the wand in place.

And he would remember that the voice, loud and clear in the evening air, which had intoned "Avada Kedavra" hadn't been Draco's.

Later, he would remember being sickened that Draco was too scared to say the words himself and needed his father to do it for him. He would think that Draco was the coward he'd always thought he was and wonder why David would want this Malfoy as part of his inner circle of followers. He would wonder why Harry lowered himself to letting this coward touch him, but then he would remember that Harry wasn't a pure-blood, which probably explained everything.

But at that moment, as the Muggle froze in his shroud of green light and dropped like a stone to the ground, all Cloud was aware of was the feeling of the Muggle's life force arcing over the circle. It burned into him, pulsing through him in a surge of exhilaration. He knew everyone in the circle felt it and that the connection between them throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

And then ... when he thought he might pass out from the ecstasy ... he knew! He felt it ... the itch of the Mark on his left arm exploding into life, and he knew Draco had been Marked.

Draco crumpled to the ground under the surge of power. His father followed him to the ground, cradling him through the pleasure/pain of the aftershock that Cloud recalled from his own Marking.

He could feel the power coursing through his own body now. It was ... was ... he shuddered ... better than sex; he was hard from the magic and the power clothed him in its solid, tangible force.

A sound began to fill the evening air, a low single musical note that at first he thought was coming from the gathering, but which he soon realised was coming from the Hallows. As it grew in volume, Lucius finally released his hold on his son and, as he did, he stripped off Draco's blood-red robe. Lucius motioned Draco back to his feet, but when the boy didn't move, it was David who pulled Draco upright. For a moment Cloud thought David was going to remain with Draco on the Hallows, but he stepped off, leaving the slightly swaying figure alone.

The musical tone continued growing stronger -- a single note which seemed to stretch into infinity, resonating through the air. As the sound increased, a soft glow started to emanate from the stone. It increased with the strength of the music or, Cloud considered, maybe the music was growing with the light.

Then, just when the sound was starting to make his ears hurt, the light solidified, forming tendrils that climbed into the night air. They twisted and twirled around Draco, flaring around him in sparks of green and copper-red. The tendrils buoyed Draco into the air, raising him above the Hallows, which seemed to liquefy beneath him, its surface radiating the colours like molten metal.

Cloud felt himself step towards the magic that was welling up from the stone. This had to be Earth Magic ... he could sense it tingling through him, and he realised that filaments of magic snaking across the ground towards him. It was happening to everyone in the circle. Each of them was being surrounded by the filaments, which flowed into their bodies and then out again into the sky to join with the stream of Earth Magic holding Draco aloft.

This was it ... this was the moment when David would take what belonged to him, and Cloud would be a part of that moment.

David had changed. He had turned back to the pale snake-like being and he had shed his own robes now, revealing a pale-skinned torso. Red eyes blazing and the slits of his nostrils flaring, he stepped into the stream of magic and held his arms aloft.

Eyes wide in awe, Cloud watched the beginning of Voldemort's transformation. He was still aware of the magic flowing through his own body, and with it came the knowledge that his master was imbibing this power within him and that it was bringing changes to him. The resurrected body Harry had seen created in the Little Hangleton graveyard was changing forever, and as David's features replaced those of Voldemort, Cloud knew that finally David would have what he had so long desired.

Immortality.

Then....

Nothing.

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

When Harry opened his eyes again, he found himself in another place. Gone were the windy slopes of the Tor, and instead he was standing in the middle of a circle of people. He tried to look about him, but even as he did, he found himself assaulted by a searing pain that ripped through his scar. The feeling was so intense that if a steadying arm hadn't been wrapped around his waist, he knew he might have collapsed.

Twinned with the pain in his head was a constriction in his chest and he struggled to breathe. Panting, he leaned back against the person who was holding him. "What's happening?" he finally managed to gasp.

"It's the Darkness. Remember how you felt it before."

The voice in Harry's ear was deeper, and he knew that the Earth Magic being had changed from the Boy and was now using his father's image . He managed to turn a little, just enough to look up at an older version of himself. "The Darkness?"

"Yes. You're surrounded by it -- each person here has been touched by Voldemort's Darkness. It contaminates the very air you breathe, and that's why you're struggling now. You are more in tune with the Magic now, so when there is something as disturbing to it as this collection of people, then it will affect you more. Let it flow over you instead of taking it into your being. Remember how Sirius taught you to shield yourself ... using the image of putting on our Invisibility Cloak to protect you."

For several minutes Harry just stood there, held against the Man. It was hard to focus with the pain from his scar, but the comforting pressure of the person behind him flowed into him, and finally he realised he could breathe without it hurting. But his scar still pulsed in time with his heartbeat, and he knew the pain could only have one source.

Voldemort was close by.

"Where are we?" The question was rhetorical; Harry knew exactly where they were; right in the middle of a group of Death Eaters. As he looked around, a memory surfaced of being bound tightly to a gravestone in the Little Hangleton cemetery, and he shuddered involuntarily at the thought, trying to push it away. What had happened still featured in his dreams ... no, nightmares ... and, as if in sympathy with the memory, the scar on his right arm, where Wormtail had taken blood for Voldemort's resurrection, began to throb.

Around him, the landscape looked like a photographic negative, expect for the area of grass on which he stood and, off to his right, a large slab of stone on which he could just make out a figure standing. Unlike the frozen landscape he had left at the Tor, here everything was in real time, as if he was part of the real world while still remaining part of the world of Earth Magic.

"We are at one of Voldemort's gatherings, and the stone is what Wizards know as the Hallows. Your ancestors, the Magicians, called it the Lock and used it to access Earth Magic. It is one of many locks -- the pool at Hogwarts is another -- and Voldemort is going to use this one to unlock the Magic."

"Does he know we're here?" Harry took a quick look around him, amazed to be standing in the centre of this circle completely undetected.

"He might feel something, but he is too caught up in his plans to notice at the moment. But once you close off the energy, we must leave quickly before he can make a link with you."

Harry gave a quick nod. "Okay." Then he felt it. A realisation that he knew ... knew ... who the person on the stone was.

Draco.

Harry gasped as he tried to pull out of the Man's grip. "Draco!"

"He's the Key, Harry. Voldemort will use him to open the lock."

Harry struggled, desperate to get to the other boy.

"No! We have to wait until the Magic has been released and Voldemort has started to bond with it. Only then can you shut it down and bar him forever from the Magic at this point."

"But Draco...." The panic in his own voice surprised him. He was worried, he knew that, but this was much more. So much more. "I have to get to him."

"I know, Harry." The Man turned Harry round to face him, hands gripping hard on Harry's arms. "But some things are more important. Save Draco now, and you condemn everyone to a second reign of terror. Save Draco now and you condemn him because he will remain the Key and Voldemort will use him again and again in his attempts to gain control of this Magic. I know you understand."

And Harry did understand. His head understood ... but his heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst. Inside his head the words Not again were thundering around and around. It had been bad enough when Voldemort had taken Cedric, and Harry hadn't really known him ... if Draco died as well....

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sound that began to fill the area. It reminded him of phoenix song, and the sound made his skin prickle with goose bumps.

"It's starting." The Man reached for Harry's hand, leading him the few paces to the stone platform.

Up close, Harry could finally see Draco's face. Grey eyes were wide and seemed to be staring directly at him, but like everyone else in the circle, Draco couldn't see him and instead looked straight through him. Harry reached out a hand, knowing he couldn't touch the other boy but wanting to be closer ... as close as possible. "Draco." His voice was a whisper and for a moment ... one long infinitesimal moment, he thought those grey eyes looked at him. Then he noticed it, a single tear sliding down Draco's cheek. He watched its journey, knowing how his lover's tear felt and tasted, and wanting to reach out and wipe this one away.

The tear hung for one shining moment on Draco's chin before it dropped like a raindrop to the ground.

Harry felt it splash on the stone. Felt it through to his soul and knew the lock had been opened. Around him the music rose and energy began to boil from the stone, rising like a low mist to spill over the edges to the ground. It condensed into filaments, which snaked across the grass with a hiss of water dripped onto hot coals until they reached the circle of Death Eaters where they twisted around ankles like Devil's Snare. The filaments wound about each person before arcing into the air like the spokes of some gigantic umbrella to meet back on the stone again.

As the filaments joined together once again, they formed thicker tendrils of leaf-green light, which mingled with earthy tones of copper and auburn that shimmered in the darkness. They wrapped around Draco, lifting him into the night air. Then someone stepped onto the raised circle of stone, and even before the person pulled off his robes, Harry knew it was Voldemort.

"It's time," the Man whispered. "When he steps into the magic, that will be your moment, Harry."

"I don't know if I can do this." Harry eyes flickered from Voldemort to Draco and back to the Dark Lord again. He could see ... no feel ... the triumph in those red eyes.

"You can."

As Voldemort stepped into the Magic, Harry joined him on the stone. He could feel the energy surging from the ground, where it pooled within the stone, turning the surface to liquid power, before rising into the night sky. The Dark Lord was changing before his eyes ... his body morphing from the snake-like being who had haunted Harry's dreams for almost three years into someone else. Voldemort looked like Riddle ... an adult version of the boy Harry had once met in the Chamber of Secrets. He could feel Voldemort soaking up the energy like a sponge as the tendrils gathered at the Dark Lord's feet, winding around his legs and spiralling up his body in a sea of sparks.

"Now, Harry."

With one final, brief glance into the sky at Draco, Harry took one step forward into the Magic.

He couldn't help but gasp as the Magic surged about him. It was like coming home. As the tendrils reached for him, the energy filled his very being. It felt like he was basking in the sunshine and standing in the rain. Like snow was falling and like moonlight in a clear night sky.

Turn the key in the lock

A voice whispered in Harry's mind, and for what seemed like a lifetime, he tried to imagine he was doing just that. He didn't want to ... he wanted to stay here with the Magic flowing through him ... he didn't want to leave. But he could feel the strength in Voldemort steadily growing and slowly ... slowly, he turned the key in the lock. The Magic ripped away from Voldemort and, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the Dark Lord dropped to the ground.

And then there was nothing.

Nothing but Draco.

Harry reached out his arms to grab him from the air, and lowering him gently to the stone, cradled him in his arms.

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

... Glastonbury ...

The Tor was empty now, the last of the visitors having left as the sun had set. Sirius watched as the waxing gibbous moon slowly rose in the southern sky. It would be a full moon on Saturday, and he wondered briefly how Remus coped with the full moon now. Was the Wolfsbane Potion still enough to deal with the trauma of turning into a werewolf each month, or had Remus found some other way of dealing with it?

It had been good to meet up with Remus again and renew their friendship; good to know that even after everything that had happened to them, they still had that to fall back on. Oh, he missed James ... James' death had been like losing part of himself ... but Remus had been like a calmness in the stormy sea of his youth, and he still had that effect on Sirius now.

The sky above the Tor was darkening now and pinpricks of starlight twinkled in the black velvet. The temperature had dropped once the sun had dipped below the horizon, and Sirius found himself shivering a little. Reaching for his wand, he magicked a couple of blankets and one-handedly (because Harry still clasped his other hand) pulled one blanket around his own shoulders and the other over his godson. The grass would start to dampen with night dew soon, and he chided himself for not thinking of that earlier and making sure Harry had something to lie on rather then directly on the grass.

He studied the boy for a moment, wondering what was happening in his trance-world. Here, in this world (the real one as far as Sirius was concerned), Harry had the calm serenity of an untroubled sleep. If it wasn't for the way he still clasped Sirius' hand so tightly, Sirius would have assumed Harry was just dozing. In the quiet Sirius had had time to think, something he didn't do that often. Thinking made him remember and so often where Harry was concerned, remembering always reminded him of James and Lily. What would they think if they knew what their son had become? Little Harry ... an Earth Mage of all things.

Harry stirred, one hand clutching briefly at the blanket, and Sirius found himself making little shhhing noises as if quieting a fretful child. Was it fair to ask Harry to take so much on his slim shoulders? He had watched Harry through all his links with Earth Magic over the last couple of weeks, and each time he was worried about how vulnerable Harry was at these moments. If his godson were ever alone at these times, anything could happen. He needed a protector to watch over him ... to be there when Harry was at his most defenceless. Maybe, he considered, he should offer to take on that role. It made sense really; after all, hadn't he been the one to teach Harry about his true past? Wasn't he a surrogate parent doing the job James would have done if he'd still been alive?

Off in the distance a dog barked and was answered by another. For a second Sirius thought about transforming but the moment quickly passed. There was something very comforting -- very freeing -- about being Padfoot, something from his days in Azkaban no doubt, when he used to transform to cope with his imprisonment. He didn't revert to his Animagus form as much these days, but when he did things seemed less ... complicated.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that when Harry suddenly sat up, the movement made Sirius jump with a start. His godson's eyes were open wide, and he was panting as if he'd just run a very long race.

"Harry?" He reached out for the boy's arm but it was pushed away almost immediately as Harry scrambled to be free of the blanket. "Harry, it's okay ... you're back."

"What ... I...."

"Come on. Take a deep breath." This time he managed to hold onto the boy, one arm around Harry's shoulder. "I've got you, Harry, you're safe now."

"No, you don't understand." Harry pushed Sirius away, struggling to get to his feet. "I have to go...."

"Go where?" Sirius fought with the boy's flailing arms. "Harry! Calm down!"

But Harry finally won, scrambling from the ground. "No, you don't understand. He's the Key, and he's there all on his own." Harry stumbled around, looking this way and that, as though trying to find something he'd lost. "I should never have let him go. Never!"

Sirius darted after the boy. "Harry ... come on...." He reached out, but his hands were knocked away again. "Please tell me what happened."

"He was meant to be safe...." Harry's voice echoed in the darkness.

"Who, Harry?"

Sirius never got an answer to his question as, with a rush of magic, Harry popped out of existence.

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

Night ...

... Malfoy Manor ...

The room was cold, his breath condensing as he exhaled. Draco's robes had long since disappeared in the nightmare of what had happened, leaving his bare arms covered in goose bumps. He didn't dare move to rub warmth back into them. His knees hurt from the hard stone floor, and there was a throbbing pain of confusion and fear in his head. To make matters worse, his left arm hurt as though someone had placed a red-hot brand on his skin.

Eyes fixed on the floor a few feet in front of him, Draco tried to stop shivering. He knew he was cold, but he decided his shivering was as much from shock as the chilly air.

Shock because of what he'd just been through and which he didn't want to think about.

He didn't want to think about how his father had taken them both from his room and out into the Manor grounds.

He didn't want to think about the circle of Death Eaters waiting for them.

He didn't want to think about Voldemort standing next to him or the Dark Lord wearing his other face ... his disguise ... David Morrello ... red eyes dangerous in the torchlight.

He didn't want to think of Justin Finch-Fletchley dragged before him, cowering on the damp grass, eyes pleading up at him.

He didn't want to think of his wand clasped tightly, Lucius' hand wrapped around his own fingers. How the wand was pointed at the trembling boy as his father had hissed out the words "Avada Kedavra" and how Draco had felt the power of the curse bursting from his wand in a surge of green magic. Of those dead eyes staring up at him, one of Justin's hands still reaching out to him ... pleading.

He didn't want to think about the moment Voldemort had clasped his forearm, or of the feeling of the Dark Lord's Mark as it cut into his skin. Of his own pleas to his father not to let this happen to him and of Lucius' placating, almost soothing, voice telling him that one day Draco would understand ... one day he would thank his father for allowing this to happen to him.

Draco would have whimpered a little if his mouth weren't so dry. His fingers dug reflexively into his knees. The Mark hadn't been what he'd expected; Lucius had told him it would hurt and that part of the binding was the pain ... bound in blood and anguish to their Master and their fellow Death Eaters for life. But there had been nothing like that. As the Mark had sliced into him it had felt like ... like he was falling ... like he was drunk or drugged ... like he was outside his own body watching from a distance.

Please don't let him do this, father. Please ... please ... please....

But it hurt now.

It started to hurt when Voldemort had set loose the magic pooling like some underground lake of molten lava under the Manor. He'd called Draco his 'Key' and said that once his Key had opened the lock the magic would flow. Draco didn't understand, but he remembered standing alone on the circular slab of stone, remembered how the surface seemed to shimmer beneath his feet until he was held aloft by the energy as the stone turned and turned. How the magic had boiled and effervesced around him, strands twisting like snakes up his body to fill the air about him with static electricity.

He thought he'd seen lightning bolts in the air ... felt familiar arms curl around him as the magic had built as if reaching a crescendo.

Harry.

And then....

Nothing.

Just as everyone around had started to roar with excitement and delight, it had ended. Like a cork being put back in the bottle, locking everything away.

In the silence that had followed, Voldemort had stared at him ... just stared and stared as if in shock. Then those red eyes had flashed with anger, and Draco had known it had all gone wrong. When the Dark Lord's wand had been pointed at him, he'd thought he was going to die, but instead he'd found himself here in this windowless room inside the Manor.

Draco shivered in the cold air. He'd only ever been in this room once before. His father had brought him here during the summer after his fifth year. Lucius had been angry, and Draco had never found out just what it was he'd done to make his father so mad. He'd been led to the room, told to kneel in the centre and to contemplate his transgressions. He thought he'd been left there all night, but he wasn't sure just how long it had been. When he'd next seen his father, Draco had expected to be quizzed on what he had spent his punishment thinking, but the incident had never been mentioned, and he'd never been taken to the room again.

Until now.

Taking a shuddering breath, Draco turned his left hand over so that the back rested on his thigh, the movement exposing the pale skin of his inner forearm. He'd not looked at it since what had happened outside -- not wanted to see what was causing the burning pain on his flesh -- as if by not looking he could deny what had taken place and what it would mean to him, but he knew he would have to look at some point. Have to acknowledge what Voldemort had done to him.

He looked down out the corner of his eye and then finally gave his arm his full attention. He didn't gasp at what he saw ... didn't even feel shocked or upset. The outline of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth burned into the soft flesh near his elbow simply made him feel numb.

He'd wanted this for so long. Dreamed about joining his father in the Order, standing by his side in the fight against the Mudbloods and Muggles, using the magic Lucius had taught him. But now all he saw was his mutilated skin, blackened and scarred, while in the back of his mind there was an itch he couldn't scratch ... the feeling of something ... someone ... existing there like a nightmare he knew he'd had but couldn't remember. Was that Voldemort whispering in his mind like some Imperius curse? Waiting to use him?

He thought he saw the snake move, but knew that wasn't possible. The Mark was like a tattoo, his father had once explained, still and unmoving, but it was alive to the will of their Master -- a living link between him and the Dark Lord. Through it Voldemort could praise or punish, command and compel.

Draco tentatively touched a finger to his scarred arm, flinching a little as a flicker of pain assaulted the damaged nerve endings in his skin. He remembered other fingers on him, running over his skin with soft feather-light touches. Harry had wanted to protect him ... that was what the magic had been for. Harry had tried to warn him that it wasn't safe for Draco to go home ... that Voldemort might take him ... but Draco hadn't listened. He remembered only too well the conversation they had shared what seemed a lifetime ago now.

How do you know I'd be telling the truth? he had asked Harry.

Because I trust you. Harry had replied.

You trust too easily, Harry. If I said I was going to him, would you still trust me?

Until you went.

And then?

And then I would probably have to face you on the battlefield.

Harry wouldn't want him anymore. Not now that Voldemort had Marked him as one of his own.

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

... Outside Malfoy Manor ...

Not for the first time, Sirius thanked whatever gods were watching over him that Albus was not only a powerful wizard but also seemed to have so many answers before the questions had even been asked.

When the old man had suggested placing a tracking spell on Harry, Sirius had at first laughed, saying there was no way he would lose his godson and then annoyed at the idea of Harry being tagged by magic without him knowing. Albus had just looked at him and said nothing until Sirius had finally caved in and agreed.

The locator spell worked exactly as it had been supposed to, and when Sirius Apparated after the magical signature, he found his godson holding onto the bars of a ridiculously high metal fence. He watched for a moment as Harry tugged at the bars, as if he could bend them out of shape by the sheer force of his will. The fact was, Sirius considered, Harry probably could do just that if he focused his powers rather than just letting his emotions control his magic.

It had not come as a surprise to him that Harry could Apparate naturally -- if what he did could actually be called 'Apparation'. But what did surprise him was to find just where Harry had chosen to come. He recognised the crests that were attached to the railings, and even if there had been no visible symbols, the magical wards all but screamed out at anyone who dared to come too close. This was the Malfoy estate.

He stepped up to Harry, only too aware of the boy's magic crackling around them. "Harry...."

If the boy was surprised to see him, he didn't show it. Instead his hands remained on the bars. "You should have told me." He finally let go and began striding along the fence line, clearly looking for a way in.

"Told you what, Harry?"

"That Draco was involved in this."

"Draco? You mean the Malfoy boy? Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Yes," Harry hissed as he finally stopped and looked at his godfather. "He was Voldemort's Key -- the one who was going to release the magic."

Sirius blinked in surprise. Of course he'd known Draco was involved, but what was even more surprising was the fact that Harry seemed to care. "Of course we knew. That's why we had to do this today."

"What?"

"Look, Harry, it was simple...."

"Simple? He could have died ... he could already be dead for all we know. When I got there, the Magic was holding him up in the air. If I hadn't caught him.... And god only knows what Voldemort is going to do with him now."

Sirius reached for Harry's shoulder, but his hand was brushed away. "Okay, maybe I should have explained things better to you, but we need to get out of here right now. We've probably set off every ward there is around this place. I'll explain when we get back to Glastonbury."

"No! You tell me now!" Harry rose to his full height, green eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight.

"Okay, okay." Sirius held up his hands in defeat. "When we found out Voldemort was planning to do the Earth Magic ritual, we knew we had one real chance to stop him. We knew the planetary alignment was going to be right for tonight and that we could have some control over what would happen if we tried to stop him now."

"We could have stopped it by not letting Draco go home."

"That would have stopped it this one time, but Voldemort would have waited for the next time things were in alignment, and he would have made sure Draco was his to use even if it was decades away. And we wouldn't have had any control over what he did. But this time, Harry, we knew that if we could stop him ... if you could stop him ... Voldemort would never get the chance to tap into the power point here at the Manor ever again."

"You should have told me."

"And how would that have changed things? It's only Malfoy's son after all. It's not like he's important."

Harry's fists had balled at his side, and for the first time Sirius realised just how powerful his godson was. Magic seemed to spark around him, and Sirius was grateful Harry was his friend because at that moment he would have hated to be his enemy.

"Not important? Just because his dad isn't on our side, it doesn't mean Draco isn't important. I love him, Sirius!"

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

... Malfoy Manor ...

Draco looked up with a start as the door to the room slammed open. When Lucius strode into the room, he started to come to his feet. "Father...."

"Don't move! Haven't you already disgraced me and your family enough?"

Eighteen years of indoctrination froze Draco in place. He responded to the voice as he'd been taught, and as the blood pounded in his ears, he realised there was another figure in the shadows. The way the figure seemed to glide into the room reminded him of the Dementors he'd seen in his third year at Hogwarts and of the person who'd been in his room on the night he'd tried to Summon his grandmother.

He knew it was Voldemort even before the man drew back the hood of his robes.

Rooted to the spot, Draco concentrated on just trying to keep breathing as the Dark Lord walked round him. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising as magical power radiated from the man. It prickled against his skin, and he shuddered under the onslaught as Voldemort's fingers rested gently on his head.

The fingers petted and stoked, and finally, after what seemed a lifetime, the man spoke.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," the man's voice was an exasperated sigh. "What am I going to do with you?" The fingers tightened. "Well?"

Draco winced. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"That isn't good enough, boy." Voldemort let go of the blond hair and began a slow, steady stroll around the kneeling boy. "You see, I've waited a very, very long time for tonight -- for you to unlock the Earth Magic stored beneath this place. You were my Key, Draco, my secret solution from the moment you were born. That's why I healed you when you almost died." He crouched down and sneered into Draco's face. "I gave you life!"

"I...."

"Shhhh." The Dark Lord raised a finger to his lips. "It's only possible to access my magic at certain times. You've been studying Astronomy ... you must know that there is a planetary alignment tonight. The alignment means the lock is there to be opened, and this is only the second time in your life that the alignment has been just right. The first time was on your first birthday, but my plans were thwarted then as they have been tonight. I expect the same people are responsible." He rose to his feet again and Draco saw that the man's hands were clenching and unclenching. "But he was cleverer this time ... much cleverer. By letting you open the lock and then closing it before I was able to gain access, he made sure the lock would never appear again in your lifetime. Tell me, Draco, who put you up to this?"

"What?"

"Did Dumbledore tell you what to do?"

"No."

"You. Are. Lying!" Voldemort hauled Draco to his feet. "Tell me!"

The hand caught across Draco's face, and he was sent sprawling back to the ground. He tried to scramble away, to get to the safety of his father, but the Dark Lord's foot pressing onto his back stopped him, pushing him hard against the rough stone floor.

"Now I see.... NOW I see what's happened." Voldemort removed his foot and reached for Draco's left arm, pulling at him. "I thought something was wrong; you can't sense me, can you?" Red eyes glinted and Draco heard his father gasp in pain. "See, my Mark works on your father, but not on you. So why is that, Draco? Why?"

Pulling at the boy's arm, Voldemort peered at the scarred Mark, prodding it with his free hand as Draco tried not to squirm from the touch. He looked at his father with pleading eyes, silently screaming 'get me out of here', but Lucius looked straight through his son as if he wasn't there.

"Why, Lucius," the Dark Lord glanced at his host, "your son has already been Marked by someone else. Your loyal son has pledged himself to another."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and for a moment Draco wasn't sure whether it was himself or his father.

"You look surprised, boy. Didn't you know? Look!" Voldemort held Draco's arm up. "Look at your master's Mark!"

Shaking, Draco stared at his forearm. Across the temple of the skull a new mark had appeared. It looked like someone had slashed a small lightning bolt mark on his arm. He tried to breathe as he realised just what must have happened a few days ago when Harry had done his protection magic. Harry had kept asking for Draco's permission, and now he knew why. His mind reeling, he wondered for a moment if he might pass out.

Harry had Marked him.

The Dark Lord suddenly came to his feet, pulling Draco up with him again. "No matter. I can save you from this person. Ask me ... give me your permission ... and I will bring you into my Inner Circle where you truly belong. Do that and I will forgive you for what has occurred tonight."

Draco swallowed as he faced the powerful man in front of him. Behind Voldemort he could see his father, grey eyes unreadable. He was desperate for the man's reassurance ... desperate for him to make this all right ... to tell him what to do. And then there was Harry.

Harry -- who'd chosen to Mark him without telling him, and for a moment Draco found himself confused. If Harry could do this to him, then how was he any different from Voldemort? Harry had taken away Draco's choice. But hadn't Harry asked Draco again and again if he wanted to go to Voldemort? Hadn't Draco told Harry that he didn't want to join his father's Master?

His father's Master.

Draco finally managed to look at the man his father had been following since he was Draco's age, and he saw beyond the façade that was David Morrello to what was underneath.

"Ask me, Draco."

Draco straightened, his chin jutting in a proud, arrogant gesture as he glanced at his father and then back to the most feared wizard in a century. "No." The single word was a whisper.

"What?" Red eyes flashed.

"No, I won't." This time his voice was stronger, more positive.

"Yes, you will," the Dark Lord hissed back as he drew his wand. "Lucius."

"Master." Lucius took a single step forward.

"Leave us."

"Father...." Still hoping Lucius would protect him, Draco stepped towards the older man. He was aware of the swish of Voldemort's wand and somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the word Crucio. He stumbled to the ground as the pain swamped his body, forcing a strangled word from him "Daddy!" as he reached his hand out towards Lucius, fingers clawing briefly at his father's boot.

"I said go!"

Not meeting his son's desperate gaze, Lucius turned simply on his heel and left.

Through the haze of pain, Draco watched his father leave, and as the door closed he felt his world come crashing down about him. His father ... his beloved father ... his role model ... his protector ... the person he aspired to be, had left him with this maniac.

He didn't know how long the pain continued, but when it finally ended the relief was almost palpable. He gasped for breath, trying to draw air into his painful lungs. It hurt everywhere. Even his eyelashes seemed to hurt.

Voldemort was at his side, hand tangled in Draco's hair as he pulled the boy's head up sharply. "Ask me."

"I won't." Somewhere a spark of inner strength grew into rebellion.

"Who Marked you? Was it him? Potter?"

Draco gave a small cry of pain as the fingers twisted in his hair. It felt like it was being pulled out in clumps.

"It would be just like that brat to use his scar as a Mark. It won't protect you, Draco. It won't stop me from killing you." He yanked at the boy once more before letting go so fast that Draco's head cracked against the floor. "Idiot boy! Do you think I'm just going to let you go back to him? Wave goodbye and wish you all the best?"

The second time Voldemort cast Cruciatus was even worse than the first. It ate into him until he thought he would die from the pain. His bones felt like they were shredding and his skin was on fire.

"I'll send Potter your body for him to weep over. Then he will see who is the stronger. You are mine, Draco, and he will not have you!"

When the curse ended this time, Draco was curled into a ball, shaking violently. He realised he must have been thrashing about on the ground because the rough stone had cut into his bare arms and there were specks of blood on his cream-coloured tunic.

"But that would be too easy, wouldn't it, to kill you." Voldemort stroked his wand over Draco's left arm. "You need to suffer, boy, and I can make your life a living horror. First by doing this." He tapped his wand on the head of the snake.

Draco felt the snake move. Eyes opening wide, he managed to move enough to look down at his arm and saw the snake slither over his skin, little tongue flicking out.

"I can sense the magic he used on you. It's strong but mine is stronger. My snake will find a chink in your armour, Draco. It will find a way through Potter's protection, and when it does, I will have my revenge on him, and then you will be my champion." Voldemort smirked. "And remember I told you that I could take away your magic, Squib. Will he want you then? Will he want you when you are nothing but a magic-less filthy Muggle? Why don't we see?" Voldemort pointed his wand, the tip pressing quickly against the boy's forehead as he whispered, "Veneficus Delitesco."

The magic flowed out from the wand tip and over Draco. He felt like he was sinking into mud ... being drowned in quicksand ... and for a moment he tried to struggle away. But the magic froze him as it washed though him. It didn't feel like normal magic, but surrounded him in an ephemeral mantle of darkness and he shuddered as it reached in to his very being, leaving in its wake an emptiness where Draco's own magic had once been. Eyes wide with fear, Draco finally managed to look up at his tormentor.

Voldemort smirked knowingly, red eyes flashing dangerously. "Accio Wand." He reached out a hand, plucking Draco's wand from the air. "Squibs don't need wands." With that he snapped the wand in two and tossed the pieces to one side. They burst into flame, ash scattering over the floor.

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

... Glastonbury ...

Harry paced backwards and forwards across the small amount of floor space not taken up by furniture in the guesthouse room. Even without the two beds and large chest of drawers it only took half a dozen paces to get from one side of the room to the other. Occasionally, he would stop at the large floor-to-ceiling window and stare out into the darkness before continuing his pacing.

The room was too green he decided ... much too green. It reminded him of Avada Kedavra and of the light that had spiralled up from the Hallows raising Draco into the night air, and it made him feel just a little nauseous. So much for the idea that green was supposed to be calming. At the moment he felt anything but calm, and the restlessness and worry was getting steadily worse by the minute.

He was aware of Sirius sitting at the small writing desk where he had been since finishing a letter what seemed like an hour ago. In reality it was probably only a few minutes, but Harry couldn't bring himself to look at the man just yet. He was still angry with his godfather ... so angry that neither Sirius nor Professor Dumbledore had told him the truth. If he'd known what Draco was walking into, Harry knew he would have done anything to stop him from going home. And Snape must have known what was going to happen as well, which was why he'd been so insistent for Harry to do the protection magic on Draco. How dare Snape not tell him the truth after what Harry had done for him?

He stopped yet again at the window and stared out, but all he could see was his own reflection in the dark glass because of the light in the room. He'd wanted to go get Draco from the Manor, but after pleading and then begging, Sirius had persuaded him as to just how foolhardy it would be for Harry to step into the Manor grounds. At some point during his pleading, Sirius had told him that there was no way just the two of them could take on Voldemort and all his Death Eaters on their own. So he'd told his godfather that he didn't need him and that if Sirius wasn't brave enough to come with him, then Harry would go on his own.

He felt guilty about that now, but hadn't apologised yet because he still blamed Sirius for the fact that Draco was on his own at Malfoy Manor and there was nothing Harry could do to help him. So much for being an Earth Mage -- what was the point of having access to all that fancy magic if he couldn't use it to save someone he loved?

Harry chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. He was as surprised as Sirius clearly had been over that little confession; surprised at actually admitting it to someone other than Draco. If he were honest with himself, he wasn't even sure about the love thing. Oh, he'd said something during the protection magic ritual, but he still wasn't quite sure he understood what 'being in love' actually was.

He knew that the knot of fear in his stomach was real enough, and that the fear was mixed with helplessness at not being able to just stride into the Manor and take Draco to safety. There was also a part of him that was scared witless over what Voldemort might do to Draco now that his plans had been thwarted once again. At least he thought Draco was alive. He wasn't quite sure how the Mark he'd given Draco really worked, but he thought he could still sense the other boy and was sure that if something awful had happened he would be aware of it.

"Harry."

Looking in the glass, he could see Sirius over his shoulder. Sirius' expression in the makeshift mirror was all too obvious -- the man looked like he'd aged several years. For a moment Harry wasn't sure if he could look his godfather in the eye, but finally he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned round.

"Look, Harry, can we talk? I know you're tired ... I know I am ... but I don't want us to go to sleep angry like this."

Harry gave a little shrug and allowed himself to be led back to his bed where he flopped down. Then, pulling off his glasses, he tossed them on the bedside table and flung an arm across his eyes for a moment.

"Don't go to sleep on me."

"I won't," Harry answered as he finally looked at his godfather. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier ... about you not being brave. I was...."

"I know." Sirius sat down on the edge of the bed. "Harry, I didn't know about Draco and you. If I had...."

"Would it have made any difference?"

"No, I don't think so. We needed to stop Voldemort."

Harry hoisted himself up on to his elbows. "And you were willing to sacrifice a kid for that? A teenager? Someone like me?"

"We thought he was going to join Voldemort."

"Which makes it okay to do what you and Dumbledore did?"

"No, not really. But there wasn't anyone else. Draco was the important person in this equation, and sometimes we have to do things we don't necessarily like."

"Right." Harry dropped back down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. "You should have told me."

"And would you have gone ahead with it, knowing what Voldemort would have achieved if he'd succeeded?"

For several minutes Harry continued his scrutiny of the ceiling. Without his glasses it wasn't in focus, but he still let his eyes track over the pale green paint. Would he have taken part in the plan if he'd known Draco was part of it? He'd been worried about Draco going home -- worried that Voldemort might Mark him -- for ages now and that was why he'd gone ahead with the protection magic. He finally looked back at Sirius. "I don't know. It's just that...."

"You care?"

He gave a curt nod.

"And that's the difference between Voldemort and you, Harry. You care about people." Sirius reached out and ruffled Harry's hair. "You know something, Harry, you sure as hell picked the most inopportune moment to come out to me."

"Are you angry?"

"That you like boys? No. I'm a little shocked though ... I always expected you to end up with Hermione or Ginny Weasley. But Draco Malfoy? I wouldn't have seen that coming in a month of Sundays." He got to his feet and returned to his own bed where he made himself comfortable. "Now why don't you fill me in with all the gory details?"

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

... Malfoy Manor ...

The bedroom was in darkness when his mother entered; she was carrying a small lantern, which reflected the light off her blonde hair and picked out her familiar features. For a moment she just stared into the room as if worried about entering. "Draco? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Her son looked up from where he lay on the bed. He hadn't expected anyone to visit, not after the debacle that his birthday had turned into. "Because...." He took a breath. "Because I can't light the candles." He swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. "Mother...."

She was across the room in an instant, lantern placed on the bedside table as she took her boy into her arms. "Oh, Draco, what have you done?"

"I don't know. I just...."

"Your father is mortified. Draco, he is talking about disowning you if you don't bow to the Dark Lord's wishes."

"It wasn't my fault. I didn't mean for the Earth Magic thing to go wrong."

"But you refused him, Draco. You refused him." Narcissa pulled back a little so she could look at her son's face.

"Am I really a Squib, mother?"

"I don't know. You were such a sickly baby, love." She pushed the hair off his forehead. "I thought I would lose you. But he made you well ... made you strong. Draco, I promised your grandmother that one day I would tell you this. She hated what he did to you and always said that you would grow stronger on your own. She was responsible for him not being able to carry out his magic on your first birthday."

"What happened?"

"That doesn't matter. What is important is that you lived, dear heart, and that you are still alive now." She hugged Draco tightly.

"I can't do magic anymore. It feels ... I feel like my soul's been ripped out, and I don't know what to do anymore." Draco could feel tears pricking in his eyes. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't cry, that he would get out of this somehow. "What about father? Can I see him ... talk to him?"

She dropped her eyes from his. "He.... He doesn't wish to talk with you at the moment." She kissed him gently on the cheek as she came to her feet. "I will leave the lantern with you and one of the house-elves will bring you breakfast. Please stay here in the morning. It would be better if you don't wander around the house."

"But...."

"There are spells, Draco, spells that are activated when non-magical beings are in the area. I don't want you hurt by accident." Narcissa quickly headed for the door. "We will talk in the morning."

As the door closed, Draco stared at it for a long time. His life was falling apart, and he didn't know how to stop it. He felt naked without magic, lost and alone, and now even his home was conspiring against him. Earlier he'd thought about going to Voldemort on his hands and knees and pleading for his powers, but even with no magic he was still a Malfoy, and Malfoys shouldn't go on their knees to anyone.

What hurt the most had been what his father had done. His father had deserted him ... walked out while his son had been subjected to Cruciatus. Draco had always expected his father to protect him ... fight for him ... be there through even the worst times. Hadn't he told Harry that? Hadn't Lucius been the one bright, shining beacon in his life?

It was all Harry's fault, he quickly decided. If he hadn't gotten involved with Harry then none of this would have happened. He would have come home for his birthday, accepted the Mark, acted as Voldemort's Key, gone on to marry Gwen and lived happily ever after.

But because of Harry, he'd seen something else. A different way of life. Was it a better way as well? It didn't feel like it at the moment. And hadn't Harry taken it upon himself to Mark him without asking, without telling Draco why?

He scratched at the Mark on his arm. The snake was no longer there. Sometimes he thought he could feel it moving over his body and earlier he'd watched it moving down his leg, pausing occasionally as if looking for something ... what was it Voldemort had said It will find a way through Potter's protection, and when it does, then I will have my revenge.

Dragging his hand across his eyes, Draco tried to wipe away the tears that were gathering, and as he did he picked up the little box Harry had given him, flinging it against the wall with an angry shout. It dropped to the floor with a thud before skittering over the wooden floorboards.

Damn Harry ... damn him to hell!

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

... Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ...

Albus Dumbledore watched as the little owl fluttered silently out of the open window and into the night. Outside the moon cast a silvered light over the castle grounds.

Returning to his chair by the fire, Albus magicked the embers back into life. He felt the cold at his age; it seemed to seep into his bones even on the warmest of days. Once settled, he opened the message the owl had brought. It was, as he'd expected, from Sirius, and he heaved a tired sigh of relief at the man's brief words. Harry had succeeded, but was upset about the Malfoy boy.

Thoughtfully, Albus tapped the edge of the parchment on his fingertips. Yes, he'd assumed Harry would be upset once he realised Draco was involved. But war sometimes called for sacrifices. He hoped both boys would understand when ... if ... they returned to the school.

He was getting too old for this; too old to send the young out into dangerous situations. It was time to hand the reins over to someone else. But there was just one last thing he needed to do. One final piece to add to the jigsaw he had been putting together since the day he'd first realised just what Tom Riddle had become.

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

... Malfoy Manor ...

It was the bright moon shining through the window that roused Draco from his fitful sleep. He reached automatically for his wand meaning to use it to close the curtains, but as his fingers closed on thin air, the memory of what happened earlier came crashing back.

His wand had been destroyed.

He had no magic.

Letting his hand drop back to his side, he grimaced a little in pain as his fingers connected with the sheet. It was only then that he realised his whole body felt tender ... no ... more than tender ... it was as if his nerves were tingling unpleasantly, almost like something was crawling under his skin. Was this all part of Cruciatus or was it the result of some other part of Voldemort's magic? He felt twitchy and restless as the memory of what had happened played over and over in his head, until finally he couldn't remain lying on the bed any longer. Almost in desperation, he flung the covers back. Something flew from the bed, landing with a quiet thud on the floor in a shaft of moonlight. It was the little toy lion. Jaw tightening, Draco climbed from the bed. The lion could stay there for all he cared, he didn't want it anymore. All he wanted was to sleep, because in sleep he could forget what had taken place.

Stepping from the bed, he let out a yelp of pain as he stubbed his toe on something. It was the box Harry had given him. He picked it up and for a second considered throwing it against the wall again with the hope it would break to pieces, but instead he sank to the floor turning the box over and over in his hands. The anger from earlier had morphed into loneliness now, and he wanted to be anywhere but the place he had always considered his home. He wondered if he would ever feel safe again.

"Fuck, Harry, what the hell am I going to do?"

Then he saw it. It looked like one of the box's side panels was coming off. It took him a moment to realise that it was actually a sliding panel and that if he pushed it, another panel became visible, and another and another. What, he considered, if he opened the panels in a certain order? Maybe that was the way to get it open.

It took him less than ten minutes to work out the right order, and with a strange sense of satisfaction, he pushed open the final panel. "Look at that ... it didn't need magic to open it after all." With a frown he reached inside and pulled out a silver chain at the end of which hung a tiny star-shaped crystal. Holding it up in the moonlight, Draco studied it. "Harry, what on earth is this?"

For a moment, he debated whether to just return it to the box, but with a shrug he pulled the chain over his head, tucking the little star inside his pyjama jacket. Then, reaching for the lion, Draco scrambled to his feet and padded across the room to the window where the moonlight spilled through.

He climbed onto the window seat, hugging his knees to him, and watched the moon.

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

Fifty miles away Harry woke with a start. One moment he had been sound asleep, the next he was wide-awake. He lay for a moment in the moonlit room trying to get his bearings. Yes, he was in a guesthouse in Glastonbury, and he could hear the soft deep breathing of his godfather who was asleep in the other bed.

Something had roused him from his sleep but he couldn't work out just what it was. Finally, he threw back his covers and tiptoed to the window. Outside the pretty garden below had been turned into an ice sculpture by the moonlight. All the colour had been washed out of the world just like it had been in his Earth Magic world.

Then he felt the sensation again ... the one that had woken him. It fluttered in his stomach, and in that moment he realised the truth. With a sob of relief, Harry rested his hand on the cool glass as though he could touch the moon.

Draco was alive.

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Father made my history.
He fought for what he thought would set us somehow free
They taught me what to say in school
I learned it all by heart but now that's torn in two.

Through the Barricades - Spandau Ballet

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Chapter 11: The aftermath.

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Author's Notes

I know it's been a year since the last chapter. Real life things got in the way of writing and this chapter was also very difficult to write. I hope you've found it worth the wait. Thank you for your patience and your continued comments about this story. It's always great to get feedback.

Special thanks:

To my Betas (in alphabetical order): Golden Snitch, Kupukello, Milena, Olivia, Nancy, Plumeria, Stacey and Verdant. I don't know where I would be without these people.

To everyone at LiveJournal, especially those of you who came up with some of the wonderful presents Draco received ...phatphatkitty, aome, kokopoko, snottygrrl, kupukello, shezan, nightsinger, coversant and nattgli.

To everyone on at Worlds_Colliding for their continued support and inspiration.

To everyone who has reviewed. I love reading your comments -- thank you so much for taking the time to write.

Artwork:

I am very lucky to have several new pieces of artwork drawn both for this chapter and for the previous chapters. All artwork is linked in the appropriate places throughout the chapter and I hope you enjoy the pieces by Duckpuppy, ildi, Red_rahl and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as much as I have. The art by Duckpuppy wasn't actually drawn for Resolution, but she has been kind enough to let me link to it. If the links don't work, you can check it out at http://www.worlds-colliding.co.uk/Artwork_index.html. I have recently updated the artwork section to, hopefully, include all the Resolution artwork drawn so far. If you've drawn something and it isn't there, please let me know.

Anon_Fan: The Boy (Chapter 9) .

Amariel: Draco skiing (Chapter 1); The Wizard's Challenge (Chapter 3).

Duckpuppy: Harry and Padfoot.

ildi: Sirius finds Harry at Malfoy Manor.

Jeky and Ele: Harry at the Valentine Ball (Chapter 3).

Mijan: The bath (Chapter 9).

Red_rahl: Draco sitting by the window; Harry standing by the window.

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Harry and Sirius on the motorbike.

The photo of Harry is from Goblet of Fire and is copyright Warner Brothers.

Glastonbury photographs:These were taken by Verdant who has very kindly let me link to them in this chapter. I hope they help give the feel of the place Harry and Sirius visit. Photographs are copyright Verdant and may not be reproduced without her permission.

The map of the Glastonbury Labyrinth was taken from the Mid-Atlantic Geomancy website. If you would like to know more about labyrinths, the site is worth visiting. http://www.geomancy.org/labyrinths/

There are two Yahoo groups associated with my stories:

The adult group for Resolution can be found at: Worlds_Colliding: The Restricted Section: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_Worlds_Colliding_2/

The general group can be found at Worlds_Colliding. The R-rated version of Resolution and my non-slash story Coming of Age can be found here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_Worlds_Colliding/

Any reviews are more than welcome, either here on the Fiction Alley Board (click on review), to me at [email protected] or feel free to post your comments at Worlds_Colliding.