Veniam Dare

Chapter 1: Self-Deception

Harry looked slowly over to Draco, his gaze sliding across the bare stone floor between them before finally resting on the other boy. He was dimly aware of the pitter patter of raindrops on the window behind him, and also of the pale moonlight filtering through the clouds and into the room, giving it an ethereal glow.

"How did it come to this?" he whispered, the green of his eyes obscured by the moonlight reflecting off of them.

Draco didn't meet them. "I don't know," was all he could whisper back, trying desperately to retain some of his old cockiness. But it was gone now. It was gone. "I don't know," he repeated.

"Malfoy, I..." Harry tried. Speaking had never been so hard for him. "I'm sorry. For, you know, all this. I'm sorr--"

"Don't apologize, Potter!" Draco interrupted, hissing through his teeth. His old enmity flooded back at Harry's attempt at an apology.

What right did Potter have to apologize? Maybe before Draco could have accepted his request for forgiveness, but not now when they were so deeply caught in this web of self-deception.

That's what it had been all along. Self-deception.

Harry let out a small breath. "It's just that, you know, this is all my fault. If I hadn't--"

"Shut up!" Draco hissed, truly disgusted with the boy across from him. Self-deception. Lies. Self-deception.

He couldn't stand to look at Potter, who apologized and took responsibility and jumped in front of others to save them, even when it meant getting himself killed.

"I'm...sorry..." Potter whispered, even quieter.

Draco closed his eyes, trying to rein in the flood of emotions those words had caused. "No. No."

Because Potter was always the hero, always the savior, always the spoiled brat who claimed to be 'Dumbledore's man', no matter the peril of their situation. The fool. The bloody fool.

For Draco did know how it had come to this. He had made this decision. He was still deceiving himself, and he knew it.

If only he had said the two simple words that would've ended all his doubts when he'd had the chance. If only he'd conquered whatever petty innocence that had consumed him and simply uttered those two forbidden words:

Avada Kedavra.

The moon moved behind a cloud, and the room was plunged into darkness once more.

" 'No' what, Draco?" Harry whispered from somewhere Draco couldn't see. The usage of his first name shocked Draco. Had Harry ever said it before? Yes...once...

Draco took in a rattling breath, and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself. "If I hadn't...gone with Dumbledore. If I had killed him. If I had just completed the Dark Lord's bloody mission." He had to stop himself and take a few deep breaths, refusing to break down completely in front of Potter. He was a Malfoy; he could never act so undignified.

And then it hit him. He wasn't a Malfoy, not really. He had betrayed everything his family stood for, soiled his family crest. His last comfort had been that his name hadn't yet burned itself off the Black family tree, but now he couldn't even say that for sure. The realization that he wasn't a Malfoy anymore, the one thing he had always been and thought he would always be, was too much for Draco.

Harry bit his lip as he listened to the soft, choked sobs emanating from the other side of the room. He hadn't expected Malfoy to let himself cry in front of him. And certainly not in this situation, where Draco would normally be gloating over Harry's many mistakes.

The moonlight returned to the room, making the tears dripping down Draco's face glow like quicksilver, like the luminescent raindrops on the window.

It was still a mystery to Harry as to why Draco hadn't killed Dumbledore that night at the Astronomy Tower, the night they found the fake Horcrux. Instead, Draco had agreed to be hidden by Dumbledore, kept away from the crumbling state of the wizarding world.

Yet here he was now with Harry, in the middle of the exact crumbling state he had been secreted away to avoid.

Harry took a deep breath and crawled on his hands and knees over to Draco, gently and tentatively placing his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "It...it'll be ok, Mal-Draco." He didn't know quite what to say besides this, especially since he had no idea if it was actually going to be ok. They were trapped in Hogwarts, chased and cornered by Death Eaters, with no discernable hope of surviving. But, the weeping form before him needed some sort of comfort, and this was all Harry could really give.

Draco's choked sobs abated for a moment, but then came back harder than ever.

***

Dumbledore's voice was quiet, gentle, despite his current position: backed up against a turret of the Astronomy Tower, weakened by the potion he had just drunk on his and Harry's quest to find the locket Horcrux.

"He cannot kill you if you are already dead. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight and hide her likewise. Nobody would be surprised that you had died in your attempt to kill me -- forgive me, but Lord Voldemort probably expects it. Nor would the Death Eaters be surprised that we had captured and killed your mother -- it is what they would do themselves, after all. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban.... When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, Draco... you are not a killer...."

Malfoy stared at Dumbledore.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" he said slowly. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here.... and you're in my power....I'm the one with the wand.... You're at my mercy...."

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Malfoy did not speak. His mouth was open, his wand hand still trembling. Harry thought he saw it drop by a fraction--

And then Malfoy's wand arm dropped completely as he fell to his knees. "Just get me out of this mess," he whispered barely audibly. Dumbledore smiled weakly and nodded, straightening himself and moving slowly over to Draco's slouched form.

As Dumbledore's unusually pale hand touched Draco's shoulder, Harry felt the magic binding him release. "Harry," Dumbledore said softly before Harry had time to register his new freedom, "I want you to go with Draco. Take him to your house, and make sure he does not slip into any trouble, including with you."

Draco's head snapped up as he realized that he and Dumbledore were not alone. His eyes briefly widened as he looked at Harry, who's newly removed his invisibility cloak was slung over his arm, before they hardened again in distain.

Harry was just as surprised and disdainful. "Sir, why would I take Malfoy to that place," he said without trying to hide his antipathy. "And I think I could help here, with fighting the Death Eaters."

Dumbledore glanced down and into Harry's eyes. "Harry, you have agreed to obey me without question. Although you have failed several times, this is a most critical moment for you to remember this promise. In good time it will all be explained to you. For now, however, we need to concentrate on spiriting Mr. Malfoy away and securing the school grounds. There will be plenty of fights for you to partake in, but your current one is the battle against time and luck to deliver Draco to safety. I'm entrusting this most important job to you, Harry."

Dumbledore pulled a small piece of paper out of his robe pocket and placed it in Draco's limp hands. Draco impassively opened it, eyes scanning the emerald writing. "Twelve Grimmauld Place?" he said questioningly.

At that, Harry couldn't take it anymore. "Professor, he just betrayed Hogwarts! He just endangered students! He just sold you out to the Death Eaters! And you're going to let him go, just like that!" Harry's face, although masked by the night, was flushed with anger. How could Dumbledore just let Malfoy walk away from everything he had caused? How could Dumbledore just forgive him?

"May I repeat that you have agreed to do as I say, without question, and that it shall all be explained in time." Harry looked no more consoled at these words, but Dumbledore started again. "Draco may have done unforgivable things, but there is a time for condemnation and another for salvation. If we can come away from this incident with one more un-torn soul, it is a victory for our side. Innocence is a precious thing."

The look of defiance in Harry's eyes softened a bit, so the elder wizard continued in a more business-like tone. "Now, you will take these brooms to Hogsmeade, where, I believe, there is a sufficiently disused and deserted shack to Floo from. Members of the Order should be there already, and I shall instruct Phineus to report that they are to immediately get Narcissa into hiding. The broom wards on the school grounds are still down, so you should have no problems getting through, and I do think you will be excused from the restriction on underage sorcery, Harry, for the duration of your travel--"

Draco, who had been silent until now, suddenly interrupted him. "This wasn't part of our deal. You said you would keep me safe and hidden, not hand me over to the one person most likely to endanger me and turn me in," he said with venom.

Dumbledore turned his piercing blue gaze to Malfoy. "Draco, it would be quite silly for Harry to turn you in, seeing as he himself is wanted far more than you. Furthermore, Harry has access to the safest of all locations, and I cannot spare the time nor the chance of being seen so as to fetch another suitable person. You must trust him, Draco, just for tonight, as I trust him."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy had nothing to say in response. He simply averted his gaze from Dumbledore. "Yes, sir," he murmured impassively.

Dumbledore took this as a sign of acquiescence and handed Draco his broom while gesturing for Harry to mount his own. As he slipped Harry a small pouch of Floo powder, their hands briefly brushed. Dumbledore's were strangely cold and clammy, but he smiled reassuringly. Harry looked briefly over at Malfoy, signaling him to kick off the ground, and Malfoy did so only after shooting Harry a cold sneer.

As Harry kicked off, he heard Dumbledore's gentle voice whisper, "Farewell, Harry, and good luck."

Harry tried to reply, "See you soon, Professor," but his voice was swallowed up by the wind as he climbed higher and higher into the midnight sky, Dark Mark still shedding its eerie green light overhead.

***

"Potter, do you even know where we're going?" Draco asked derisively.

Harry clenched his fists harder around the broom handle and continued flying forward, refusing to give Malfoy the satisfaction of looking back. This is a mission for Dumbledore and the Order, he thought determinedly. He was not going to succumb to Malfoy's childish jibes at his sense of direction or intelligence.

They were almost at the Shrieking Shack, which Harry assumed was the disused and deserted shack in Hogsmeade. At least he hoped it had a fireplace... Regardless, there would only be a few more minutes of enduring Malfoy and then he could come back and fight alongside Dumbledore.

All throughout his years at Hogwarts, he thought he had had Draco Malfoy figured out. He was a sadistic spoiled brat, bent on hurting others to get ahead, or simply for fun. Harry had been completely right in supposing that Malfoy was indeed plotting something, a fact he would make a point to shove into Hermione's face later. Malfoy had also endangered the school, and had as good as sold them all out. And yet Dumbledore was still hiding him, protecting him from his wrongs.

What surprised Harry more, though, was that Malfoy had agreed to be hidden at all.

As long as Harry had known the other boy, he talked of joining Voldemort like his father and nonsense ideals like pure blood and family pride. But here Draco Malfoy was, flying alongside Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, in an effort to escape a demon of his own creation. His own recklessness in joining the Dark Lord had caught up with him, and Harry couldn't blame him for wanting to run from it. It seemed, though, that Malfoy's undying pride for his family would have prevented such an action, and even been enough to force the killing curse off of his lips when his wand was aimed at a helpless Dumbledore.

And yet...here Draco Malfoy was, flying alongside Harry Potter.

There couldn't actually be a redeeming quality about Malfoy, could there?

"Should I take that as a no, Potter, or is your brain just incapable of stringing a coherent sentence together to answer with?" said Draco with as much snark as humanly possible.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten.

No, no there couldn't be a single positive quality about the arse. Harry couldn't imagine why he had ever considered the possibility.

He glanced down at the darkened landscape and began to descend onto the Shrieking Shack's unkempt lawn, not bothering to check if Malfoy was following. It would be easier for Harry if the prick weren't following, anyway.

Harry gently touched down onto the grass, and sighed when he heard Malfoy land a second behind him. "Potter, what the bloody hell are we doing at the Shrieking Shack?" Draco asked with clear loathing.

Harry had had enough of that tone from the man he was supposed to be saving.

"Look, Malfoy, if you don't want to be carried away to safety then stop fucking following me and turn yourself over to the Death Eaters. Then maybe you and Daddy can be reunited in jail," he hissed.

Malfoy glared and then said in a sharp tone, "Shut the fuck up, Potter. You don't know anything about my situation."

Harry laughed derisively. "Malfoy, I was there. I heard your whole little confession. In fact, if I remember correctly, I also saw you crying your eyes out in a girls' toilet earlier this year."

Suddenly Draco had drawn his wand and was pointing it straight at Harry's chest. "Shut up. Shut up! You don't know anything!" Malfoy's voice was infused with unadulterated anger.

Harry laughed again. "Go ahead and kill me. Oh wait, you can't, just as you couldn't kill Dumbledore." Harry knew he had let Malfoy get to him, but he couldn't stop. He still didn't understand why Malfoy was so easily forgiven, when his history clearly pointed to a Death Eater connection. Harry was now almost completely sure Malfoy had taken the mark, what with his behavior in the robe shop and apparent mission set by Voldemort.

"Don't push me, Potter, or you just might force me past my limits of self control," he spat.

Harry's green eyes cut into Draco's. "Oh? So you call what stopped you from killing self-control? I call it cowardice and fear." Harry's voice had risen to a shout.

Draco began to counter when Harry suddenly lunged towards Draco and clamped a hand over his mouth. There were definitely footsteps heading towards them from Hogsmeade's main road. Harry squinted into the darkness, trying to make out who it was. He was able to catch the swirl of a black cloak about a hundred meters off.

"A Death Eater...Let's get out of here," he whispered, biting back his anger in favor of escape.

Draco said nothing in response, and didn't even object to the hand still clamped over his mouth.

Harry guided Draco towards the locked door to the Shrieking Shack and whispered, "Alohamora." He grabbed at the doorknob, all too aware of the approaching footsteps, which were definitely following them and definitely getting closer. He twisted the knob and put his weight against the door, waiting for it to move.

It didn't.

"Alohamora," he said again, tapping the doorknob with his wand for emphasis. Once more, nothing happened. "Shit," he whispered to himself.

"What the fuck's your problem, Potter!" Draco hissed in his ear. The approaching figure was now a silhouette not more than fifty meters away, although it hadn't appeared to have noticed the pair. Yet. If it got much closer, though, that wasn't going to hold true.

"The door's locked!" Harry shot back, too stressed to deal with Draco. How the hell could a person walk as fast as the man pursuing them!

"Move out of the way!" said Draco forcefully, butting Harry away from the door. "Aperire!" Draco jabbed his wand at the door and a thin stream of sky blue light shot out. He then threw all his weight on it, and it fell open with a loud screech of hinges.

"Fuck!" Draco and Harry yelled in unison as their pursuer heard the noise, spotted them, and began to run. Harry and Draco also began to run, although rather uncoordinatedly.

They stumbled through the dark house, tripping over its torn-up furniture and through cobwebs, until Harry's adrenaline-addled brain had the good sense to cast lumos.

"Where's the damn fireplace, Potter!" Draco shouted, all pretense of calm abandoned as he spotted the ominously black-cloaked man approach the door, which they had stupidly left ajar in their rush to get inside.

Harry tore his eyes away from the forthcoming man to stare at Draco.

Taking initiative, Draco pointed his wand at the door, slamming it shut with a bang. "Where the fuck's the fireplace, Potter!" Draco yelled again, face flushed with rage at Harry's lack of forthcoming.

"Uh..." It took him a few seconds to process the question. When he finally did, he was strangely calm and composed. "I..I don't know," he said slowly, as if all his brain functions were shutting down, leaving him with nothing but a strange peace. "Why don't we look for it?"

Malfoy's jaw had literally dropped. "Potter...you..." he was so livid that he couldn't even form an articulate sentence.

Malfoy shot another glance at the tacitly closed door, then looked back at Harry. His face contorted as if he smelled something foul, and his hand shot out to roughly grab Harry's. "We're getting out of here if I have to drag you. Now come on and find the bloody fireplace before I have to light you on fire, not that I wouldn't enjoy that anyway!"

Draco yanked harshly on Harry's arm until he started walking himself. His blank mindedness was odd, as he had never been one to panic in any situation. Well, minus when it involved girls, but they were a different level of scary.

Suddenly Harry started to run. He couldn't be killed yet, not by some nameless man in a cloak on a mission to save Draco Malfoy, of all people. Not before he did what he was born to do--kill Voldemort. And definitely not before he got a little...er...further in his relationship with Ginny.

Now it was Harry pulling Draco through the funereal house, searching wildly for the fireplace. Dumbledore had said there was one, so there had to be one somewhere. The place wasn't even that big!

The door banged open behind them, and the cloaked figure stumbled through, narrowly avoiding tripping on a piece of upturned furniture.

Harry averted his eyes and scoured the room frantically. Draco did likewise.

Suddenly, Draco's hand tightened on his own. "There!" he shouted, already centering his wand on the grate and whispering incendio. The man's unwieldy stomps as he staggered through the room rung in their ears.

They both hurried towards the fire as Harry pulled the small sack of powder out of his pocket, sprinkling a bit on the flames. With not enough time to spare for two trips, they both moved into the fire together, still clasping hands.

"Hold on," Harry whispered, before raising his voice to shout over the crackling fire and approaching man, "TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE!"

As they began to spin into the Floo network, Harry caught a final glimpse of their pursuer's black cloak and its silver, snake-shaped clasp. He wondered briefly what this could mean before the swirling speed of Flooing caught up with him and his mind was cleared of all except a peculiar dizzy feeling.

***

A/N: The passage in italics in the second part is from HBP canon, pgs. 591-2 (US ed.). I use it to set the scene since this fic is, in essence, an alternate ending to the events of the sixth book (not that it could ever live up to canon).

Anyway, comments are loved beyond reason, and britpicking is welcomed since I'm a stupid American. XP