The Cloak of Shadows

That night at dinner, the house elves outdid themselves. Harry and Ron chatted happily over roast lamb with mint jelly, shepherd's pie and pumpkin juice, while Hermione muttered to herself about useless frivolity in dire times. They, along with Neville, sat at the Gryffindor table out of habit, while Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sat at the Slytherin table. Dumbledore and the other professors were seated at the head table as usual, and though the great hall was painfully quiet and empty, there was almost a feeling of normalcy pervading the meal. Harry reveled in it, unsure of when his next carefree evening would be.

After dinner was over, the professors left for their own quarters, while Dumbledore led the boys to their rooms. Hermione had gone with Madame Pomfrey to the hospital wing, where she would have her own room.

Dumbledore led the six boys to a second-floor hallway none of them recognized. It appeared they had reached a dead end; there was nothing at the end of the hall except a rusted and rather worn-looking suit of armor. "Angel Delight," said Dumbledore, directing it to the suit of armor. Harry, the only one amongst them who had had any experience with Muggle food, quirked an eyebrow at the headmaster, who merely smiled at him. The suit of armor creakily nodded his head and said, "Welcome Headmaster! Hello boys!" He lifted a metal arm to the wall with a harsh grating noise, and the bricks in front of them seemed to shimmer and melt away.

As the wall before them disappeared, a large room was slowly revealed, a canopy bed in each corner. Each bed was decorated in the colors of one of Hogwarts' houses. In the center of the room was an enormous and ancient coal stove, surrounded by low benches. The room was very cozy overall, and it was with a sinking feeling Harry realized he would not be staying here.

"Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Longbottom, you will be sharing this room for the duration of your stay," said Dumbledore, confirming Harry's fear. "Ron, you will also stay here for the night, and you will always be able to return should you ever need to leave the Burrow. Your belongings have already been brought up." He paused for a moment as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I took the liberty of assigning your beds."

The boys looked around, searching for their things. Then Ron swore loudly. "Professor! I cannot be expected to sleep in a Slytherin" he spat the word out as though it tasted badly, "bed. Not even for one night!" But the headmaster only gave him a very grave and somewhat disappointed look, and Ron knew not to press his luck any further.

Meanwhile Crabbe and Goyle were muttering to each other about whose bed was worse: Crabbe had gotten stuck in the one draped in Hufflepuff colors, but Goyle had received the Gryffindor bed. Neville was placed in the Ravenclaw bed, which didn't seem to bother him in the least, although the irony was not lost on those around him.

Harry gave Ron a sympathetic look, and Ron suddenly looked guilty. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry," he said. "Here I am going on about spending one bloody night in a Slytherin bed, but you've got live in a room with one!"

"What?" came a cold voice from behind them. Malfoy glared at the headmaster. "Is he saying what I think he's saying professor? Do you really expect me to share a room with Potter?" He said the name in the same tone of voice that Ron had said "Slytherin."

Dumbledore looked at Malfoy as though he had just kissed a house elf. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Our goal is to keep you and Mr. Potter safe. It is easiest to keep track of you if you are in the same room. As well, your room adjoins this one. If anyone wishes to get to you, he or she will have to come through this room first." He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. "Anyone with harmful intent will have to face considerable physical and magical obstacles." Crabbe and Goyle looked at one another and Harry noticed for the first time actual emotion on their faces. They looked...angry? No, it wasn't anger. Determination? Yes, that was it. Harry was shocked. Apparently they were taking their job of guarding him and Malfoy very seriously. At least guarding Malfoy, anyway.

The blonde Slytherin was scowling at Dumbledore. "There is no way in hell I am staying in a room with that selfish, pompous bastard." Malfoy was speaking in a dangerously low, barely controlled voice that Harry had never heard before. Usually when Malfoy spoke it was loud and arrogant, commanding attention. This time his voice was laced with pure hatred. It gave Harry chills.

However, Dumbledore was not easy to sway, and he held his ground. "Mr. Malfoy, the arrangements are settled, and they will not be changed. You will be sharing a room with Mr. Potter." Malfoy glared daggers at him, but said no more. Harry thought it best to keep his mouth shut through all of this. He certainly was not looking forward to living in a room with Malfoy, but after all, the only time they really had to be in there was to sleep. It couldn't be that bad, could it? He didn't get to answer his own question however, as Dumbledore was forcibly guiding Malfoy through a door at the back of the room. It was clear Harry was to follow. He shot Ron a nervous look and stepped through the door.

The door led to a small common room. There was an over-stuffed couch in one corner, and a few armchairs gathered near it. They were all arranged in front of an enormous stone fireplace. Near the door was a small table and two chairs. A chess board rested near the fireplace. Harry thought it seemed like a pleasant room. Perhaps he could spend any free time here, away from Malfoy.

Dumbledore ushered them through the room to a door at the opposite end. On the other side was their bedroom. It was about the same size as the common room, perhaps a bit smaller. An enormous bed stood in the center, wrapped in ornate, plush drapes. To the side was a much smaller bed - it was older-looking and the coverlet was worn.

"Well, I'll let you two get situated then," said Dumbledore, giving them a nod and disappearing through the door. Harry felt his stomach drop as he watched the headmaster leave. He hadn't expected to be alone with Malfoy yet. He sighed, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't start world war three. As he turned around, Malfoy went to the large bed and flopped on it lazily.

Harry's jaw dropped. "What do you think you're doing Malfoy?"

"What does it look like Potter?" he sneered. "I'm going to bed. Now if you don't mind shutting your trap so I can get some sleep..."

"You... you can't do that!" Harry sputtered. "You can't just come in here and claim your territory like that!"

Malfoy looked at him coolly from atop a mountain of pillow. "I just did." And with that he pulled the curtains around the bed shut and all Harry could hear was silence and his own rapidly beating heart. Damn Malfoy for always having to have the last word! Harry ran a hand through his hair in agitation and looked disdainfully at the small bed. It was worse than the one he slept in at the Dursley's, which was certainly saying something.

Well, there's nothing to be done about it tonight,

he thought. It was late and Harry felt his eyelids grow heavy. He quickly changed into his pajamas and climbed into the bed. He groaned when he felt the lumpy mattress and scratchy blankets, but told himself to ignore it and go to sleep. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, that's what he did.

***

Harry woke up feeling sore and tired, and slightly nauseous. The room was dark, and a damp chill had settled over him. Moaning slightly, he moved his cheek off the pillow and felt something scrape against his face. Suddenly whatever was below him no longer felt like a pillow. There was a rich, earthy smell in his nostrils that was almost overpowering. Opening his eyes and sitting up, Harry realized he was no longer in the castle, but outside, somewhere on Hogwarts grounds.

Confused, Harry strained to see in the darkness, but there was no moon, only a dim glow cast from behind him. Looking back toward the castle, Harry gasped. It was most definitely Hogwarts, but not as he had last seen it. The building was in shambles - piles of rubble lay scattered about the grounds, on the east side of the school it seemed as if an entire wing had been blown up, and the light Harry had noticed came from several small fires burning amidst the debris. Tears sprang to his eyes and his throat burned with emotion. What had happened? How did he get outside? Where was everyone?

Harry gingerly got to his feet, stretching his muscles carefully to see if anything was injured. He seemed to be fine, but a feeling of dread had settled over him. Whatever had happened was not over yet. He feared the worst was yet to come. Vaguely he wondered how the death eaters had gotten organized so quickly. It would take an enormous amount of planning to carry out such an attack on Hogwarts, and though Harry knew the death eaters and Voldemort were powerful, it had all happened so fast.

Blinking, Harry walked toward his beloved school in search of some signs of life. Something seemed to be wrong with his eyes - he could make out shapes and some detail, but everything around him seemed hazy. Probably from all this smoke, he thought. As soon as he began to walk, a wave of dizziness hit him. He sank down to the ground and shut his eyes as he felt the world begin to shift and spin around him. It felt as though the world was rushing by, while he stayed in place.

Opening his eyes, Harry caught a flash of red near a pile of stones. "Ron?" he whispered. There was no response, but Harry knew it was his best friend. He could make out a hand, just barely sticking out of all the rubble. Shaking himself mentally, Harry began to crawl. He had to get to Ron, had to make sure he was alright, get him to safety. Everything around him continued to spin out of control, and the haziness grew worse. Suddenly he heard a voice from behind him.

"Did you actually think you'd win Harry Potter?" The voice was low and rasping and forever burned into his mind. Voldemort. "Stupid boy," he hissed. "You should have joined me when you had the chance."

It took all of Harry's strength to turn around and look at the Dark Lord. His vision was going in and out now, completely blacking out at times. Head spinning, he tried to focus on the shadowy figure in front of him. "I will never join you Voldemort. Never." He sounded young and frightened, but his voice was determined. "You may kill me, but you cannot and will not have me."

"No, I don't suppose I will," Voldemort said. "But I can take from you the one thing you love the most."

"If you mean Ron -"

"No Harry Potter. I do not mean Ron."

Harry was taken aback. Who else would he mean besides Ron? Sirius, perhaps? Or Hermione? He opened his mouth to speak, but just then the harshest wave of dizziness hit him, and he fell to his knees. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open any longer, but he could see flashes of light. The flashes brought with them images. Some he remembered from his years at Hogwarts; others he could only assume were visions of what had happened before the destruction of the school. He saw Ron, Hermione, and himself, hands joined, protecting something. What it was, he couldn't tell. With another flash he saw Ron being thrown backwards against a wall, slumping lifelessly to the ground. And with the last one he saw a hand, reaching for him, clutching at his robes. It wasn't a hand he recognized, and yet... and yet it seemed familiar to him. Then he heard a voice. "Harry... Harry don't. Please, go. Protect yourself. Harry... please." The voice was frail and full of fear, and it wrenched Harry's heart. Whoever this person was, Harry knew he couldn't leave them. He heard shouts, knew Voldemort was upon him, and still he wouldn't leave. It wasn't until he saw the greenish light that a scream was ripped from his throat.

***

"No!" Harry screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed. He was cold and clammy, drenched in a chilly sweat. His breathing was labored and his chest felt as though a huge weight was resting on it. He clenched the blankets around him and fought for self control. He knew he was hyperventilating, but he didn't know how to stop it.

Finally, after endless moments, his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal. Disentangling himself from the damp sheets, he staggered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, relishing the feel of something real. He braced himself against the ceramic sink and stood there for a moment before raising his head to look in the mirror. His scar was inflamed and pink, but it didn't hurt. What scared Harry the most were his eyes. His pupils had dilated to enormous proportions, making them look like liquid pools of ink. He looked... haunted. Not just haunted, but also... hunted. The kind of look an animal gets when it's running from a predator.

Then Harry heard the screams.

Running back into the bedroom, Harry looked around for the source of the screams. They were coming from Malfoy's bed. Unthinking, Harry ran to the bed and grabbed the curtains. As he attempted to pull them open, he was thrown to the floor. Of course, Malfoy would put a charm on them to keep everyone out. Harry grabbed his wand from his bedside table and muttered a counter-curse. He then flung back the curtains and sucked in a breath.

Malfoy was twisted in his sheets, writhing among the pillows and blankets. His eyes were clamped shut, and his forehead was covered in perspiration. He was screaming raggedly, kicking at the bed posts and flailing his arms. Harry didn't know what to do, so he went with his instinct.

Jumping onto the bed, he grabbed the other boy's arms, pinning them to the bed. Malfoy was still struggling against him, yelling incoherently, and Harry pressed his full weight against him, hoping to calm him down. "Malfoy," he said, close to the boy's ear. "Malfoy, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Suddenly he stopped fighting Harry and his body went rigid. "Malfoy?" Harry said softly. He wasn't sure what was happening to the other boy, but he was growing more concerned by the minute. "Come on Malfoy, just wake up so I can go back to bed." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Please wake up."

Something happened. Malfoy's eyes remained shut, but he broke free of Harry's grasp and wrapped his arms around the boy, clutching him tightly. "Please, don't. Please. No, just go." His body shook with sobs, and tears streamed from his closed eyelids. Harry didn't know what to do, so he just held him. "It's okay, Malfoy. It's alright. Everything is okay."

Just then he felt Malfoy tense underneath him, and when he looked down, Harry found himself staring into a pair of startled grey eyes.

***

Draco was running. He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to hurry. Hurry. That one word rang through his mind, keeping time with the rhythm of his shoes hitting the ground. He wasn't sure where he was, whether or not he was running on grass or stone, or if he was running to something or from something. He just knew that if he didn't get there, wherever there was, in time, something awful would happen. Something that would be his fault. Something he would regret for the rest of his life.

And so he ran. And as he ran, images floated through his mind. He saw himself on his first day at Hogwarts, so young and nervous - terrified he wouldn't make friends, wouldn't live up to the Malfoy name. Then that day on the train, after fourth year, and the things he had said... god, how he had regretted them. He remembered the day his father came to Hogwarts and took him home, telling him it was time. Time for the one thing he was dreading most. And then Potter, always bloody Harry Potter, showing up in his mind when all he wanted was to forget the boy even existed.

And suddenly Draco was running faster. A new sense of urgency compelled him, and he ran until he felt fire course through his muscles, his lungs screaming for oxygen. Suddenly, he slowed. Would he be too late? Could he stop what was about to happen? He paused and looked around. All about him was nothingness. He strained in the darkness to see something, but he may as well have had his eyes shut.

Draco felt the presence. He still couldn't see, but he knew whatever he was trying to find was there, just beyond his reach in the darkness. He had to do something, and quick. Had to hurry before whatever was behind him caught up. "Hello?" he said into the dark. "Please, go. Please, just go." But something in him knew that his words were futile. This person wouldn't leave. Draco began to plead. "Please? Please! Oh, god, just go!"

Hurry.

There it was again, that voice telling him something very bad was about to happen. He felt it creep up behind him, enveloping him from all sides. He felt ill and bent over, afraid he was going to throw up. It was too late. The evil thing was here and it was about to destroy everything Draco had ever cared about. There was nothing left for him to do but scream.

***

Draco awoke staring into a pair of endlessly green eyes. He was unsure of what had happened; he only knew that he was shaking like a leaf, and found it difficult to catch his breath. Settling back into his pillows for a moment, Draco relaxed into the arms that were holding him. Abruptly he stiffened. Who on earth was in his bed, holding him? He thought back. The dream. Running. Potter. Green eyes... Potter!

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Get off me!" he yelled, throwing Harry off the bed. Harry looked at him, confused.

"I... you... were dreaming. And I- I was trying to wake you up."

"How dare you come into my bed. I had it charmed!"

"I know," Harry whispered from the floor. "I broke them."

Draco was livid. "I don't care if Severus bloody Snape was in my bed wearing nothing but quidditch gear. Don't come near me ever again. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded dumbly. If that was how Malfoy wanted it, then fine. It wouldn't be a loss to Harry if he never had to speak to the stupid git again.

"Oh, and Potter?" Harry glanced up at him. "If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you." Saying this, he drew the curtains on his bed shut, and Harry heard him mutter a few charms. Groaning, he picked himself up off the floor and wandered out into the common room. He curled up on the couch and stared into the fire, contemplating the events of the night. If I survive living with Malfoy, he thought, his eyelids drooping sleepily, facing Voldemort will be a piece of cake.

***

Draco found him the next morning on his way to breakfast, curled up in a ball on the couch, shivering in front of the dying fire. His face was troubled, and he looked older than his years. As he passed, Draco's hand accidentally knocked a blanket from the back of the couch. It fell onto the sleeping boy who unconsciously snuggled into it. Draco stared at him a moment before heading off to the Great Hall.