Somnio Salvus

Draco stood rooted to the spot. His father had been unable to shed any light on the failure of the plot, so Voldemort would be looking for answers elsewhere - any time now. The pale, skeletal face turned towards him. Burning eyes surveyed him intently, making him feel rather as though he were being slowly cooked. Abruptly the blood-red gaze fell instead upon Bellatrix. Draco thought she looked as if she would rather be back in Azkaban than where she was at that moment.

Voldemort stepped closer to her and reached towards her face with long, bony fingers. He slowly lifted her chin so that she was looking at him.

'Bella,' he said quietly. The high, cold voice was softened slightly. It could hardly be called affectionate, but the diminished venom and malice in his tone suggested to Draco that the Dark Lord was rather fond of her. Somehow, though, he didn't think that would help her much.

'I believe we agreed that you would deliver Harry Potter to me today, yet instead I seem to find myself in the company of Malfoy the Younger. Is there an explanation for this?'

She haltingly began to recount the scene outside the pub, but it quickly became apparent to everyone present that Voldemort wasn't really interested in explanations. In Draco's opinion, he just enjoyed making people squirm. Bellatrix faltered, and her voice faded away. Voldemort smiled at her in a wholly unpleasant manner.

'I have no use for failures, Bella,' he seethed. 'Finite Incantatem!'

Whatever protective spell he had bestowed on Bellatrix began to dissolve. Wisps of sparkling smoke evaporated from her skin. She shivered, but Draco didn't think it was because she had suddenly become sensitive to the cold.

'Wormtail!' snapped Voldemort. The little bald man hurried forward, fumbling ineptly with his wand. 'I need time to devise a suitable punishment. See to it that Mrs. Lestrange is installed comfortably in the Master Bedchamber in the meantime.'

Wormtail performed a rather unprofessional Full Body-bind, which left Bellatrix unable to move, but still slightly flexible. Her legs collapsed under her as if she had fainted. Wormtail seized one of her arms with a powerful-looking artificial hand, and dragged her through a doorway on the left side of the room.

Voldemort turned his attention to Draco.

'Why?' He asked, in a voice like molten lead. 'Why are you here? And why is Harry Potter...not here?'

Draco very much doubted that there was a correct answer to that question. He bit his lip and cleared his throat, trying to summon the courage to tell Voldemort where to go. He tried to meet the Dark Lord's malevolent stare with an audacious one of his own, but it hurt his eyes. Instead, he looked over Voldemort's shoulder at Lucius. He was surprised by what he saw.

Although his father's face was expressionless, and he stood watching events with an air of passive nonchalance, Draco was not fooled. The steel-grey eyes were too much like his own - they revealed to him a good measure of what was behind them.

There was fear...and anger. There was a flicker of the kind of paternal outrage that emerges when a father discovers his child being bullied. But there was something else...there! Draco was able to guess what his father was thinking. Lucius was no stranger to Draco's fits of defiance and rebelliousness during his childhood, and he would have recognised one at once. Now he was trying to communicate a warning.

Draco thought quickly. Perhaps if he resisted the urge to declare himself an ally of Harry Potter, he might just emerge from the situation in one piece. He very much wanted to spit in Voldemort's face but he knew perfectly well that he would die for it. So he decided to take his father's lead...for now.

'I wanted to be there, to witness the demise of the great Harry Potter,' he drawled. 'I wanted to help, if I could. He was reluctant to take the bottle. I think he knew it was a Portkey. I tried to make him take it but it activated before I could reach him. So here I am.'

Voldemort's slit nostrils flared. He stared closely at Draco, as if he would be able to detect a lie if he got near enough.

'Foolish boy!' he spat, after a moment of silence. He turned abruptly and strutted away from Draco, but continued to berate him. 'Did you not realise that there would be measures in place to ensure that Potter was given the Portkey, without your clumsy inteference?'

Draco couldn't bring himself to grovel. He glared at Voldemort's retreating back but said nothing. Suddenly Voldemort stopped, turned again and looked at Draco shrewdly.

'What made you think that you could persuade Potter to take the Portkey if he had already refused it?' he asked.

Oops, thought Draco, his mind going blank. He remained silent.

'Perhaps you have some kind of power over Potter which would be of use to me, but you choose not to enlighten me?' Voldemort's face was a mask of simmering rage. When Draco still didn't speak he drew his wand and screeched at him, 'If you have no more useful information, young Malfoy, then you are nothing but a useless traitor and should be dealt with as such!' He raised his wand and aimed it at Draco's chest.

Before he could speak, Lucius stepped between them.

'If I may make a suggestion, My Lord...' he said calmly. Voldemort turned a disbelieving glare on him. Draco fully expected Lucius to receive whatever curse had been intended for him, but his father continued. 'I know my son, and I can assure you that there is more to his story than he has chosen to reveal. Perhaps with the right...encouragement...we might learn something of value?' He spoke confidently, but Draco could see a rapid pulse beating at his father's throat.

Voldemort's expression changed to one of thoughtful interest. He lowered his wand. Draco thought he heard his father release a shaky breath.

'Very well,' snapped Voldemort. 'Wormtail!' The balding, watery-eyed man emerged from the master bedroom, locking the door behind him with a spell. He scurried across the room and stood before his master, apparently reluctant to lift his gaze higher than the Dark Lord's knees. 'You will obtain a vial of Veritaserum from the Apothecary in Knockturn Alley. Do not go to anyone else, and do not accept a ready-made potion. I want it freshly made, for full potency. I don't care if you have to make him work all night. Return with it by daybreak.'

Wormtail gave a short bow, whimpering, 'Yes, Master.' Then he Disapparated with a loud 'Pop!'

Voldemort turned to Lucius. 'Show your son to the second bedchamber, and see to it that he sleeps. I would like him to be well rested when I jog his memory. Then you will assist me in dealing with Mrs Lestrange.' He turned his scorching gaze on Draco. 'We will meet again at dawn. I hope that then you will be more forthcoming.' He turned and marched to the door leading to the Master Bedchamber, unlocking it with a silent wave of his wand. Draco tried not to think about what might be in store for Bellatrix Lestrange.

'Come,' said Lucius quietly, taking Draco's arm. He led him to another side door, on the opposite side of the room. He gestured for Draco to enter the moonlit room, checked that Voldemort had disappeared into the other bedroom, then followed.

Draco's heart began to pound nervously. This was it. This was the moment when he would discover whether or not he was brave enough to tell his father the truth.

'You must tell me what happened, Draco,' said Lucius wearily, turning to face his son. 'At daybreak you will be forced to reveal the truth anyway. At least if I know it in advance, I can think about how best to proceed, to make things...less unpleasant.'

Draco wasn't convinced. He had made his father angry on many occasions while growing up, with unpleasant results. On balance, he wasn't sure that he wouldn't prefer to take his chances with Voldemort.

Oh, well. Tortured to death for betrayal in the morning...or beaten to death for shaming the family now. Either way, I'm just as dead...

He began tentatively, trying to avoid mentioning his own actions for the moment. 'Dumbledore found out about the plot. His information wasn't accurate, but he knew the time and place.'

'I know he had the wrong information,' replied Lucius impatiently. 'It was I who fed that story to Snape. We've known for months that he is double-crossing us. We intended him to report back to Dumbledore with false information. That is not why the plot failed.'

Draco gulped. He was running out of ways to put off the inevitable. 'I know. The plot failed because of me. I stopped Harry from taking the Portkey.' He looked at his feet and held his breath.

Lucius made a pained grimace, closing his eyes and shaking his head. After a pause he spoke, but it seemed to take some effort. 'Why?' he asked quietly. 'After everything I have taught you, after the care I have taken to lead you along the most appropriate path...you deliberately defied me?' His voice was a calm, quiet monotone. Draco began to tremble slightly. Bad things usually happened when his father sounded like that.

Lucius strode towards him and seized him roughly by the shoulders. Draco gritted his teeth and prepared for the hiding of a lifetime, but it never came.

Lucius suddenly registered what Draco had just said. 'Harry? Harry? Since when have you been on first name terms with Potter?'

Draco didn't have an answer ready. He didn't think there was anything useful to say at this point anyway. He remained silent, raising his eyes guiltily to meet his Father's.

Lucius stared at him in disbelief. Just as Draco could interpret his father's thoughts by looking into his eyes, Lucius could use Draco's eyes as a window to his feelings. He looked into them now and saw the truth.

A heavy silence filled the room as realisation dawned. Eventually Lucius whispered, 'I see,' and looked away, releasing Draco with a slight push. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes as if he had a headache. Draco noticed that he was swaying slightly, as though the revelation had knocked him off balance.

'Father...?' he said quietly.

Lucius spun round to face him. He was visibly distraught, elegant composure forgotten as he struggled to take in this information.

'If this...with Potter...if this is the case,' he stammered, 'then there is nothing I can do. With the use of Veritaserum the Dark Lord can extract the truth, no matter how hard I may work to conceal it. I cannot save you.' He paced around the bedroom in agitation, clenching and unclenching his hands as he thought. He paused and gave his son a desperate look. 'You are...Are you sure, Draco?'

Draco's throat was too tight to speak. He nodded silently.

Lucius nodded in return, closing his eyes once more. 'So be it. If you have truly chosen that path, there is nothing to be gained in forcing you from it. But you must understand that from now on we must be strangers. It would be unsafe for both of us if we were to remain in contact.'

None of this came as a surprise to Draco. He had known what his choice would mean, but that didn't make it any easier to bear. Hot tears began to sting as he nodded again.

'If you get out of here alive, you must return to school and remain there. Never return home. That way I can neither be commanded to turn you in as a traitor, nor to use you as a means to get to Potter. I will...find a way to explain to your mother.'

The mention of Narcissa was too much for Draco. Silent tears began to pour.

Lucius seemed to be fighting to control his own emotions. He turned away from Draco. There was a long pause before he spoke, but when he did his voice was once again calm and quiet. 'Shortly I must join the Dark Lord. He will be expecting my assistance to deal with Bellatrix. For now we must follow his instructions to the letter. You will remain in this bedroom until morning.'

He looked around the room with a hopeless expression, as though looking for something that he knew he wouldn't find. 'This is the room in which Potter was to be held. I have spent the last three days making it utterly impervious to magic, and it would take twice as long to undo. Your wand will be quite useless. Also, the door is bewitched to only open from the outside. There is no possible means of escape. Had I known that I would be using the room to imprison my own son, I might have been...slightly less thorough.'

Draco stifled the last of his quiet sobs and wiped his face with a corner of a Hotel bathrobe. Lucius continued. 'I suppose that Potter...I suppose he returns your, uhh...' he struggled with the word '...affection?'

Draco's desolation doubled. It had seemed so, in the dreams. 'I don't know,' he whispered. I doubt it, he thought, remembering their last conversation. But Harry had seen him fight off Bellatrix, he was sure of it. For a moment, just as the Portkey had snared him, their eyes had met. Maybe it was possible that Harry would now at least believe that he truly was trying to save his life. 'I think, even if he doesn't, he might still try to find me...' he added.

Lucius slowly shook his head. 'He won't find you. This place is magically hidden, like Hogwarts. You can only find it if you have been invited or summoned. It is necessary, to keep Muggles from stumbling across it. They like the countryside too, apparently.'

Draco sank further into despair at this news, but didn't speak.

Lucius turned to face him again. 'It is important that you sleep - the effects of Veritaserum can be very unpleasant, especially to a tired mind.'

Draco had never felt less like sleeping in his life. He shook his head silently, still not quite trusting his voice. His father seemed to read his thoughts.

'Don't worry - I'll leave you this.' He took a small bottle from a pocket of his robes. Draco thought he saw his hand shaking slightly. 'The wards on this room will not prevent the use of potions, as the actual magic was performed elsewhere. This is a simple sleeping potion. The usual dose applies - one drop for a light sleep, five drops for a deep sleep. It's um...it's a new bottle...'

The significance of that statement did not escape Draco. A new bottle would contain a hundred doses - enough to send the drinker into the kind of sleep that you never wake from. He was filled with a sense of hopelessness as Lucius placed the bottle on the dressing table. If his father was offering him this way out as a last resort, he couldn't hold out much hope of Draco surviving Voldemort's interrogation by Veritaserum.

A moment ago Draco had been faced with spending the rest of his life separated from his parents. Now it appeared that the rest of his life would be about eight hours, and he would never see Harry again.

There were no more tears, just an aching numbness, like frostbite in his heart.

The two pairs of silver-grey eyes met in solemn acknowledgement.

'Thank you,' Draco managed.

Lucius had not hugged his son since the day he had left home to begin his first year at Hogwarts, so Draco was surprised when he did so now. It was brief and awkward, but they clung to each other for a moment, as if to confirm that there were no more words to say.

Then Lucius was gone, closing the door behind him and leaving Draco in darkness.

***

Harry arrived back at his own dorm, out of breath and desperately worried. He had found the potion, but he had no idea how it worked. He closed the curtains around his bed and inspected the flask in his wand-light. The last drops of the potion glowed a deep, iridescent mauve. He uncorked it and sniffed gingerly; the strong scent of almonds confirmed that it was the right flask. Now there was only one thing left to do. He closed his eyes and tipped the contents of the flask down his throat.

He placed the empty flask on his bedside table and lay down, staring at the canopy over his bed. Nothing seemed to be happening.

Why isn't it working?

He began to panic. What if he'd been wrong all along? What if this potion wasn't what Draco had been using to get into his head? What if it really was just a flu remedy?

As the possibilities flew around in his head, Harry began to grow dizzy. He closed his eyes again and gasped as the whirling sensation intensified. It was like being sucked down a plug hole. He fought the impulse to seize the posts of his bed to steady himself; the potion was obviously starting to do something and he didn't want to impede it. So he forced himself to stay calm and ride out the sickening chaos until it subsided, leaving him floating gently through thick clouds of swirling mist.

Pleasant as it was, after a few minutes of floating aimlessly he began to get impatient. How was he supposed to find Draco by just hovering around here? He wracked his brains for something he might have missed, some clue that would tell him how to get past this stage. Nothing Hermione had told him was any help. He thought back to the night he had visited the Slytherin dorms, and had watched silently as Draco tried to get into his own subconscious. He couldn't think of anything that Draco had done differently...except...but surely it doesn't make any difference if you have clothes on or not!

Apparently not, because as Harry called to mind the vivid mental image of pale skin and platinum hair glowing in the magical moonlight, the floating sensation changed. Suddenly he was flying, faster and faster. He could see Draco's face quite clearly in his mind...he was almost there...

Abruptly he collided with some kind of invisible barrier, which firmly bounced him back in the opposite direction. He opened his eyes to find himself back in his bed.

Far from discouraged, he closed his eyes again immediately. He was getting the hang of it...he must have just lost concentration. I'll get it...I will...even if I have to try all night! He screwed his eyes shut and tried again.

***

Draco stared at the door, which had just closed quietly behind his father. It was very difficult to keep from sinking into despair. The chances of rescue were remote, and his father had admitted himself helpless. In the morning he would be interrogated under a potion which would leave him mentally exhausted - he would be incapable of negotiating his way out of a cardboard box, let alone talking Voldemort into freeing him. That was if he was still alive once Voldemort had heard the truth about his change of faith...and his feelings for Harry.

He didn't doubt that his father had done a good job of magic-proofing the bedroom, but he drew out his wand anyway; it had to be worth a shot.

He knew it wouldn't work as soon as he touched it. There was no warmth in the ebony wood under his fingers, and no reassuring vibration of magical energy. With a heavy heart he pointed his wand at the door and attempted an Explosius hex. Nothing happened. Sighing, he tried to levitate a hotel business card, but even this simple spell was ineffective.

He pocketed his wand and explored the room instead. The door handle had some kind of anti-grip charm on it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn it. He moved over to the window and tried the handle. To his surprise, it opened, but that didn't help his situation much. Leaning out, he found that the balcony did not extend as far as his room; it was a good ten feet away to his left. He looked down, and could just about make out the dim shape of the entrance hall roof in the darkness. Without a weightlessness charm he would never survive the fall.

Sighing, he closed the window. If he was to remain trapped he may as well be trapped and warm. He noticed that a narrow door in the corner stood ajar, and made his way around the large four-poster bed to get to it. There was a small but luxurious bathroom beyond. The floor appeared to be made of solid marble, and the lower half of each wall was decorated with highly polished walnut panels. There were no windows, only a small, slatted vent in the ceiling. If it were unscrewed, a malnourished house-elf might be able to squeeze through, if it held its breath.

A towel rail equipped with several huge, fluffy towels stood next to a sunken bathtub, which was easily big enough for two. Draco thought sadly about Harry, wishing he'd had time for one more dream visit before all of this had happened. It had never occurred to him to engineer one of the dreams to take place in the Prefects' bathroom.

He turned away and retreated to the bedroom. He flung himself onto the bed and went over and over his situation. Eventually he had to accept that his father was right - there was no way out. He would just have to wait until morning and accept his fate. It was shaping up to be a very long night.

He glanced at the bottle of sleeping potion, weighing up his options. He wasn't tempted to drink the whole lot and drift peacefully into an endless sleep. True, it was preferable to the end which Voldemort would have in store for him, but that was still hours away. He had faith in his own intelligence; he might yet think of something.

However, the prospect of spending his last night on Earth wide awake and afraid was not exactly inviting. He decided to take a single dose, just enough for a few hours of light snoozing. It would refresh his mind and improve his chances of coming up with a brilliant escape plan. He picked up the bottle and tipped a single drop into a glass of water by his bed.

He swallowed the drugged water in two gulps, then curled up on the bed. He was already drowsy, and looked forward to a few hours of blissful oblivion. After all, it had been a long, stressful day, and he was starting to get a devil of a headache.

***

On his third try, Harry finally managed to complete the flight into Draco's subconscious. He arrived to find himself lying face down on a cold stone floor in a dark corridor. He stood and looked around. There was no sign of Draco. But at least I'm here, in his dream. That means he's definitely alive...

He began to walk, rounding a corner to find himself in yet another stone corridor. Torches flickered in sconces on the walls but there was no sign of life anywhere. He began to run, eventually reaching a crossroads. Two more corridors led off to either side of him, while the one he had been following continued into the distance.

Panic began to rise, but Harry calmed himself with a moment's rational thought. This is Draco's dream - he must be here somewhere. He stayed where he was and called Draco's name. His voice echoed around the stone maze but there was no reply.

This is ridiculous, thought Harry. I'm supposed to be in control here - why can't I find him? He called again, willing Draco to reply. This time, when the echoes died away, he heard it. His own name, reverberating along the tunnels. It was impossible to tell which direction the sound had come from, but Harry decided that didn't matter. He set off down the corridor to his left, willing the maze to lead him to Draco. They continued calling each other, and Draco's voice got louder and louder.

Eventually Harry turned a corner to find himself in a square stone room, which he supposed was the centre of the maze. As he looked around, Draco emerged from one of the other corridors and stood facing him, on the other side of the room.

Harry let out a cry of relief and lunged at him, seizing him in a vice-like embrace. 'Draco!' he sobbed, clutching at the Slytherin's hair and burying his face in his neck.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and stroked his hair comfortingly. 'It's nice to see you, too,' he murmured, and gently kissed the top of Harry's head.

Harry relaxed into Draco's arms, forgetting for a moment why he was there. He softly kissed his way up Draco's neck to his ear, where he whispered, 'I missed you.'

Draco shivered against him before murmering, 'I missed you too. But you shouldn't have come...'

Harry stepped back and looked at Draco in shock. 'Why not?' he asked.

Draco gesturead at the stone walls surrounding them. 'Well, you found me, but now we're both trapped,' he replied.

Harry abruptly remembered why he was there. 'Oh! Draco, I came because I need to ask you something. I need to know where you are, so that I can come and find you...'

Draco gave him a quizzical look. 'But...Harry, you have found me. I'm right here!'

Harry had been afraid of this...the dreaming Draco had no memory of recent events in the waking world.

'No, Draco you have to remember. Please try...the abduction from the Three Broomsticks. You were there, remember? There was a Portkey...where did it take you? Please, Draco, think!'

Draco frowned at him. 'Harry, what are you talking about?'

'It's a dream, Draco! None of this is real! I need you to remember your real life.' Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. 'That day...we had a fight. I threw things at you...remember? I was angry because you'd been using a potion to get into my dreams. That what I'm doing now, Draco! This is your dream! Please...tell me where you are...where you really are...'

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment then his expression went blank. At the same time the stone walls seemed to blur and fade. Harry felt himself lifted off his feet as a thick mist began to descend around him. Oh no, he's waking up...

He gazed desperately at Draco's fading face and screamed, 'WHERE ARE YOU?'

He saw Draco open his mouth to speak but he only had time to utter a single word before Harry found himself plummeting through the fog and landing back in his bed with a jolt.

He sat up, disorientated and sweating. The single word that he thought he had heard was still ringing in his ears.

Copernicus? What the hell does that mean?