Black Sheep

Chapter Eleven
In Which There Is A Tor

THE NEXT MORNING FOUND HARRY waiting a bit tensely on his couch, his watch on the coffee table in front of him, next to his keys and easily visible. He couldn't help laughing at himself a little. Of course he didn't need to do whatever Malfoy had told him to do, but then what else would he do with his day? Stay around his house, wasting time cleaning and watching telly? He wouldn't admit it, not to himself or to Malfoy, but days with the blond bastard were far more interesting than the days without.

He got up again from the couch, as he had several times already. Walking back into his small kitchen, he pulled out a canister of ground coffee. After he measured out several scoops of freshly ground coffee into a cafetière, he filled his electric kettle with water and plugged it in, flicking the switch on its side. The water immediately began hissing, as the coils inside the kettle sprang to life. He waited for the tell-tale bubbling of the water boiling and leaned on his countertop. His eyes fell shut.

And why shouldn't he go out? Why shouldn't he enjoy himself, even if it was with Malfoy, of all people? What else was he doing with his life? He had begun to think - for perhaps the first time - about the fact that he was twenty-three years old and hadn't done anything. Well, he had saved the world a couple of times, to be fair. But, to be honest, he didn't even feel like the same person anymore. Winning the Triwizard Tourney, invading the Department of Mysteries, even hunting for Horcruxes - it was all of it in a past so distant and so removed from his current life that he could almost believe that it had all been some dream. That Harry had done his job. He'd saved the world and he'd done his penance for his friends. And he'd disappeared, along with the memories, into the past.

Of course, Malfoy was glaring proof that the past had been real. But the surprising fact was that - though he brought back Harry's past with him - Malfoy made Harry look at the present. Perhaps it was because Malfoy himself was wasting away his life in such a similar way. They were both of them useless over-grown children, living off inherited money and doing nothing with their lives. Neither of them had finished school, and obviously they hadn't gone on to any higher education. They'd never had jobs - world saviour and evil minion didn't really fit on one's CV. They didn't do anything. Other than drink, in Malfoy's case.

'Inside I've long been dead. I'm just putting in my time and trying to enjoy myself, until my body realises it, too.'

That's what Malfoy had said to him. And Harry had realised that he didn't want to live like that. He didn't want to be like Malfoy.

Harry's birthday had passed just a few months before. He was twenty-three years old. Was he still going to be living in this house, alone and obsessively cleaning, when he was thirty-three? Forty-three? Ninety-three?

The loud thunk of the kettle shutting itself off jolted him out of his reverie. Harry blinked at the appliance and realised that his water had reached boiling. He picked the kettle up and poured the steaming water into the cafetière, the bitter smell of coffee immediately blossoming in his face. He slowly depressed the plunger on the top of the press, as he heard the expected roar of a motorbike grow closer and then stop in front of his house. Malfoy stomped up the front lane and let himself in the front door without even the pretence of a knock. "Ready?" he called from the entrance-way, with an annoying sense of familiarity.

Harry was tempted to be surly, but there hardly seemed any logical reason why he should be. Instead, after a moment's hesitation, he simply called back, "Not quite."

Draco stepped out of his shoes for the moment and poked his head around the doorway to the living room, looking across it towards Harry in the kitchen. "Well, what's the delay?" he asked, a faint grin hovering about his pale lips. "I did tell you to be ready at eleven."

"I was making coffee," Harry explained awkwardly, still with one hand on top of the press. He suddenly began to ask, "Malfoy, what do you-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Draco shook his head in a cheerful dismissal, waggling a finger in Harry's direction. Harry blinked in surprise. "I know that tone of voice." There was suddenly a warning in Draco's grey eyes. "No questions now, or we'll never make it out on time. So put your damned coffee in a thermos, bring the list if you insist on pressing questions, and grab your keys. We have the whole drive for you to figure out life, the universe and everything."

He continued to look expectantly at Harry until the other man began to do as he'd been told. He finished pressing the coffee and pulled out a heavy metal thermos from one of his cupboards. After carefully pouring the steaming liquid into it, he screwed the cap on tightly and tucked it under one arm. He plucked the list off the refrigerator and nearly walked out of the kitchen, before remembering to grab a pen as well. His keys were still on the coffee table in the living room, so he grabbed them and his watch as he headed towards the front door, where Draco was waiting.

When he stopped at the door and tried to fumble his way into his shoes without using his hands, which were both full, he was surprised to have Draco pluck the thermos, paper and pen from his grip. But the blond just continued to look at him in that annoyingly expectant way, as if to say, "You're not hurrying enough. Why aren't you hurrying?"

Slipping his keys into his jacket pocket, Harry bent down to pull his right shoe on properly and Draco opened the door, heading out ahead of him. Harry quickly jammed his left shoe on as well and stumbled out after the blond. He pulled his front door shut behind him and then they were following the path around his small house and towards the back gate, which would lead to his car, parked in its little lane. Draco of course got to the car first and waited impatiently by the passenger's side door, his hands still full with Harry's things. Harry himself quickly stepped around the car and, after unlocking his door, slid in behind the steering wheel. He reached across the car with his left hand, snagging the opposite door's handle and pulling on it sharply, popping the door open for Malfoy.

Draco nudged the door the rest of the way open with the toe of his shoe and then dropped into the passenger seat, letting the thermos and list fall into his lap. His hands now free, he pulled his door shut and fumbled behind himself for a moment for the safety belt. Harry didn't ask any questions, but only reached up for his own safety belt, snapping it into place. He turned the engine over, relieved to find that it was still working all right after their rushed repairs the previous week. Slowly backing the car out onto the main lane, he was hardly surprised to hear Draco humming thoughtfully as he looked at the list in his lap. "You," the blond said reproachfully, "have not been keeping up with your duties as list-master."

He pulled the cap off his pen and made two more careful ticks under Harry's name and one more under 'Ferret.' As he pressed the cap back on the pen, he said regretfully, "I realise now that I answered a whole lot of questions for nothing yesterday." But he glanced at Harry next, as they slowly drove out of the village and towards the A4. "So what was your dire question? And do you know where you're going?"

"I know the general direction, but I'm assuming you'll tell me when we get there," Harry said, with a doubtful look.

Draco shrugged in a not-quite-reassuring way. "And what's your drama, then?"

Harry looked at the road ahead determinedly. "I'm not sure," he said carefully, "that I'd say it's 'drama.' I've just been thinking."

He left it at that for several long moments and finally Draco capitulated and muttered in a voice weary of Harry's leading statements, "Never a good idea. And you've been 'thinking' about...?"

"About my life."

Draco rolled his eyes and asked, "Is there going to be a question in here somewhere, or am I just listening to your drivel because I'm stuck in a car with you?"

Harry shot a quick glare at the blond, but quickly returned his eyes to the road. They were on the expressway now and whizzing through the Wiltshire countryside. "A question, huh...?" He sighed and thought for several minutes. "Is this what you wanted with your life?"

There was a harsh laugh next to him and Harry glanced in Malfoy's direction just in time to see the other man turn away to stare out the window, but not before Harry saw his suspiciously bright eyes. But perhaps he had just imagined the sight, because the next moment, the blond's voice came out perfectly normal, if more bitter and serious than he'd heard it in years. "No," the blond said flatly, "this is not what I wanted."

"What did you want?"

There was a long silence in the car, as Harry flicked his eyes between the road and his passenger, and Draco continued to stare out the opposite window. Finally Draco seemed to rouse himself and flattened the list on his thigh again, uncapping the pen to make two ticks under Harry's name.

"I'm not sure," he started in a more normal voice, "that I ever wanted anything specifically from my life. I was always interested in various things - potion brewing and research, history, curses, spell creation, all manner of magic, really. But I knew that I couldn't actually spend my life doing any of those things. I would be expected to take my place in the Malfoy line and ensure the family's fortune, making shady deals and running things from the shadows, as my father had at the ministry. Perhaps I would have time to keep my interests as hobbies, if I was so lucky." He stared off at the empty hills, nearly seeing a future that had disappeared long ago. "I would have been expected to marry one of the witches from a pureblood family of similar standing and produce another Malfoy heir. I would have lived out my life at the Manor with my parents watching over my every move, until they would finally die, and then I would do the same to my children, until I might finally die."

There was another pause and Harry decided to mention, "Doesn't much sound like you wanted any of this."

Draco shook his head distractedly. "No, sorry. I got sidetracked. But in a way, I suppose I did want it. It was what I was raised to expect and I could expect nothing more. It was safe and predictable and I knew at ten how my life might end at one hundred. But then things began to change. Of course, when Voldemort really came back, everything changed. Whereas before my father had simply trained me in the Dark Arts, hinting at a glorious past, suddenly everything was real and in the present. Dark curses were no longer just to harass Gryffindors with, but were to be used in serious attacks. Then for a while I wanted nothing more than for Voldemort to disappear - for my safe, boring future to come back."

Harry was reminded of how radically different a life Malfoy had come from, compared to Harry's resolutely Muggle upbringing at the hands of the Dursleys.

"Then when my father was arrested, I was forced to take his place." Draco let his head fall back against the car seat and closed his eyes. "You remember sixth year, of course. You suspected what I was up to, even when no one else did. And at that time, I wanted nothing more than to kill Dumbledore." Even now, Harry felt a faint twinge of pain hearing the words, but he didn't interrupt. "If I didn't, Voldemort was going to kill both my mother and me. My life was reduced from years, to months, weeks and sometimes hours. If I could finish the next task. If I could make it through the next mission. If I could make it to my next meeting with Voldemort. And then it became a question of making it through the next meeting with him." Surprisingly, Malfoy's lips curled into a gentle smile, though his eyes were closed to Harry. "But sometimes...

"Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I would dream of a different life. Perhaps one where my family was still together and I had married one of the pureblood cows and got the boring job at the Ministry. Or sometimes one where my father was still gone, but my mother and I lived in the Manor and I took care of everything. Sometimes I would imagine truly fantastical futures - as a Quidditch star or a world famous expert in something, though I never figured out what. Sometimes I dreamt of killing Voldemort, sometimes of killing myself, or even you."

"What did I do?!" Harry asked in a disturbed voice.

Draco grinned and there was a gleam of silver beneath his lids, where his eyes barely peeked through. "Oh, nothing in particular. It was just satisfying." He exhaled heavily. "But what did I want from my life?" He shook his head. "Even now I don't know. And maybe that's why I'm not doing anything with it. I want-" His breath hitched almost imperceptibly and he said thoughtfully, "I think I would want to go back. Back to the way things were. Before."

Harry didn't have to ask when 'before' was. They all had a 'before' - before the war, before Voldemort, before everything went bad.

"I've lost too much."

The words were so soft that Harry wasn't sure he'd heard them correctly. He didn't say anything and they drove on in silence. Finally Draco felt normal enough to point out, "You do know you've used seventeen of your questions. Whereas I still have near the same number left."

"Really?" Harry asked, his eyes jumping to the list in Draco's lap. The atmosphere returned to normal and Harry groaned, "Dammit. It's because you always wile things out of me unawares."

"Not my fault you're as dense as a bag of bricks, Potter."

Harry made a faint growling noise in his throat and Draco snickered meanly. Harry said petulantly, "Then ask me something. We've got to get it closer to even."

"What if I don't have anything to ask you?" Draco said bluntly, sizing Harry up with distinctly disinterested grey eyes. He saw Harry's brows beetling together, though, and so he said obligingly, "Fine, fine. I'll think on it." He brightened considerably as an idea occurred to him and he exclaimed, "Tell me how you killed Voldemort!"

Harry nearly swerved off the road. He had gone whiter than even Draco was and his eyes were wide and slightly glazed, which was something that Draco was quite unhappy about, since his life very much depended on Harry's driving at the moment. He quickly took his question back. "Never mind, Potter. Obviously not something you can talk about while driving and I value my whole and unbroken body more than your surely depressive answer, at the moment." He grinned. "Aren't you sorry you told me to ask questions?"

Harry seemed to have got himself back under control and he laughed, breathlessly and unsteadily, but didn't say anything more. Draco was left trying again to come up with questions, only this time trying for ones that wouldn't end up with them crashed into a hillside. Again. It was difficult going, though, since he did so love to ask outrageous questions. Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, he asked in a bored tone of voice, "Are you a virgin?"

"Am I a what?" Harry asked in shock.

"You heard me." Draco said, now settling in against his car door and watching Harry closely. "By your overblown surprise," he said, "I'd have to guess that you most certainly are."

Harry couldn't keep his face from turning red and he blurted out, "Well, I had a bit more to deal with than just pulling girls when we were in school, you know!"

Draco turned his head to give the man a doubting, sidelong look. "And it's been five years since school," he pointed out in an obvious sort of voice.

Harry chewed on the inside of his lip. There was no easy comeback for that. "And you've been pulling every weekend, I'm sure," he growled sarcastically.

"Are you asking if I'm a virgin?"

"I suppose I am!" Harry exclaimed hotly.

"You want to know if I am inexperienced in the carnal pleasures of the flesh?"

"That's what I just asked!" Harry looked at him, a bit disturbed, and muttered, "Though that's certainly not how I would have described it."

Draco's face split into a huge grin, showing off nearly every one of his small white teeth. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Glancing again at his passenger, Harry asked unsurely, "You are? You are?"

Still grinning, Draco waggled his eyebrows. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Well, not because you aren't odious," Harry mumbled resentfully. "I just figured you would have paid someone to do it or something."

Draco continued to stare at him with that shit-eating grin until Harry asked, "What are you smiling like that for?"

"Nice use of the word 'odious,'" Draco said conversationally, his grin not losing a single watt.

Harry tried to focus on the road ahead of him, but could still see those gleaming white teeth, and so he scrunched his eyes shut for the briefest of moments in frustration, then asked, "What?"

Draco grin grew, though it hardly seemed possible. Harry thought he might be able to count the blond's molars, if he hadn't better focus on the road ahead of him. "You," Draco said cheerily, "really want to know why I'm smiling?"

"That's what I asked, wasn't it!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation. "What is with you today..."

Draco uncapped his pen and made a mark under his name for the virgin question. He paused for a moment, then explained sweetly. "I'm smiling like this," he said, as he brought his pen back down to the list, "because you just used up two more of your questions." He decisively made two more ticks under Harry's name. Harry's jaw dropped open.

"One left," Draco told him helpfully, his grin in full blast again.

"But that's - those weren't - you..."

Harry gibbered helplessly until Draco interrupted, "You asked two questions of me, two questions for which I did not volunteer answers but still you pressed me. You get two more ticks." He repeated, just because he enjoyed it, "You have one question remaining, Potter." He leaned in and whispered confidentially, "Might I suggest you make it a good one?"

Harry was turning red again, but this time in anger. He stared fiercely ahead at the road and cursed Malfoy and all of his ferrety kind to the deepest circles of hell. "Bugger," he spat in a very heartfelt tone of voice, then he turned resentful eyes on Malfoy and asked, "So, what? How am I supposed to talk to you without asking any questions? Or can you even tell me, without counting that question against me?" He paused. "And that one. And... bugger."

Draco was sniggering in silent but perfect glee. He absolutely loved driving Harry Potter mad. This was the best entertainment he'd had in years. He offered graciously, though he didn't bother to hide the laughter in his voice, "Fine, fine. I realise our conversations would be quite stilted if you didn't dare say anything. And then I'd get bored. So here's what we'll do - you can still ask questions, as you've always been able to. But unless you specifically say that you want to use your last question, I will not count it against you. Of course, that also means that I am once again perfectly free to lie, hide things or simply refuse to answer."

"Will you lie?" Harry asked stupidly.

Draco grinned. "No."

Harry paused, then said flatly, "That was a lie, wasn't it?"

Draco kept grinning. "No."

Harry sighed at his own gullibility and said, "I get it." Then he complained, "You have got to stop grinning like that. It makes me want to drive into another hillside. And it just plain gives me gooseflesh. I'm quite sure that it must be written somewhere that Malfoys should not grin like tupenny tarts."

His shoulders actually shaking with laughter, Draco asked, "Do I look like a tupenny tart to you, Potter?"

Harry glared and asked blisteringly, "Are you counting that as one of your questions?"

"No," the blond said brightly. "You think I'd waste my questions on something like that? What kind of a tosser would I have to be to do that?"

"Was that one of your questions, then?"

"No."

Harry watched a road sign go past. They were still about twenty kilometres from Glastonbury. And he couldn't believe he'd used up all his questions but one! He asked tiredly, not expecting much of a response, "So you sure rushed me out in an awkward way last night, eh?"

"Did I?" Draco asked innocently.

"Yes," Harry said witheringly, "you did." He thought of their conversation the night before and recalled what he had told Draco about Hermione, just before the blond had gone all odd and practically pushed him out the door, metaphorically speaking. Something clicked in his mind and he said suspiciously, "You suddenly went all funny when I told you about Hermione and tried to rush me off, when before you'd spent all evening trying to get me pissed."

"Did I really?" Draco asked again, one corner of his mouth twitching.

"It couldn't," Harry asked slowly, "have anything to do with Hermione? Why you suddenly wanted to get rid of me?"

"I don't know what you could mean," Draco said snootily. "Perhaps I just remembered a hot date."

"Since I now know that you haven't had any sex since school - or ever, for that matter - I rather doubt that," Harry said as he rolled his eyes.

"Hmm, that is interesting, isn't it?" Draco leaned his elbow on the window frame and propped his face up on his hand, examining the countryside with that practised bland curiosity.

Harry let a couple of hundred metres go past before he asked, "What could have caused your change in behaviour then?" He hesitated and then asked seriously, "Was it something about Hermione?"

Draco responded in a sing-song voice, "You know I may just lie to you."

"Not if I use my last question."

Draco turned back to look at him with a single eyebrow carefully raised. "Are you sure it's that important? After all, you could use that question to ask anything. Anything in the world that I might possibly know - and I do know a lot of things, Potter - but you want to use it know why I had you leave my house, a perfectly reasonable request, considering that you'd never been invited in the first place and had in fact been told to stay away?"

Before Harry could decide, Draco pointed. "Look, there it is!" Harry jerked his head to the side to see the hill that Draco was pointing at, before it disappeared around the bend. On top was a very distant and isolated tower. "Think it over," Draco said mildly, returning to the question of Harry's last question. "And for now, let's get ourselves to Glastonbury! I want to climb me a tor!"




They drove into the small town of Glastonbury and proceeded to go in nonsensical circles for nearly twenty minutes. They could see the hill, of course, but couldn't seem to get much closer to it on the narrow and often dead-end roads. Eventually Harry found a parking spot that seemed to be within reasonable walking distance of the hill and stopped the car. He opened his door and stepped out into the road, asking unsurely, "So why are we here, again?" He shielded himself from the sun with one hand over his eyes and squinted up at the hill and its barely visible tower.

Draco jumped out of the car as well, the list going into his pocket - just in case. He offered Harry his thermos and then explained, "Don't you know the story of the Glastonbury Tor?"

Harry's face scrunched up questioningly and as they started up a narrow lane between the old houses of Glastonbury, in the general direction of the hillside, Draco gave him a brief history lesson. "This hill, as should be apparent when we get a bit higher, was once an island."

"An island?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "Here in the middle of Somerset?"

"Yes, an island," Draco agree, mocking Harry's tone of voice. "The flat plains surrounding this area are all drained fenland and would have once been under water. That expanse of water would have been spotted here and there by little islands, which would be the odd hill like this one." Harry waited impatiently for the story to actually become interesting, as the incline of their walk slowly increased.

"This particular hill stood out more than all the others, taller and more perfectly shaped. And so Arthur chose it."

This time Harry asked with real curiosity, "Arthur?"

"Arthur, son of Uthur, the once and future king - I'm sure you've heard the tale." Harry rolled his eyes but didn't interrupt again as Draco told him, "This hill is sometimes called the island of Avalon. The original tower on top was said to have been created by Merlin himself and there are tales that Arthur and his queen were buried at the site of Glastonbury abbey."

"Wait, Merlin..." Harry said thoughtfully, "the wizard Merlin? 'Merlin's beard!' and all that rot?"

Draco shot a disgusted look in Harry's direction, but agreed, "Yes, 'all that rot.' Are there many other Merlins that you know of?"

"Well, no, but that means... if Merlin was real - because he was a real wizard, right? - then that means Arthur and all the rest of them were real, as well?"

They broke free of the old houses and suddenly were standing at the base of the great green hill, towering in front of them and looking much steeper up close than it had from the distance in the car. "Yes," Malfoy said belatedly, staring at the tor, "he very much was."

They could see a path leading around to the other side of the hill and headed towards it. Harry asked, "Was he a muggle?"

"Half-blood," Draco explained, "his mother was a witch. But I don't think he ever had any training, so he couldn't do any more magic than an uncontrolled child can. Occasional bursts, like pulling a sword from a stone, but nothing much."

"And he lived here?" Harry asked, as stared up at the path that stood out against the green grass of the hill. From this angle, they could only see the very top of the tower peeking over the hill's swell. As they started up, he looked around and noticed the broad terraces cut into the hill. They were so huge that he hadn't realised at first that they weren't completely natural, but they seemed to run around the entire mound in a spiral, like one huge path leading up to the tower, and that could hardly be natural.

"Well," Draco's explanation continued, though punctuated now with deep breaths, "he first came here because an enemy had kidnapped his lover. After rescuing her and defeating the bad guy - with a little help from his cousin Merlin, of course - he was apparently quite taken with the place and decided to make a fortress here. Defensively, it was a very good decision."

Both men were breathing a bit hard now, as they passed a halfway marker. It was a steep climb and neither of them had done anything much more strenuous than wrestle with a remote control over the last several years. The wind, which had already been quite blustery, also became stronger the higher they went. Draco found himself raising his voice to keep his words from being immediately snatched away by its gusts.

"A lone fortress, on a nearly unscalable island. He would have been able to see enemies coming from miles away. So with no little help from Merlin, he erected a fortress and watchtower here." The two had to lean into the hill now, as the wind snatched at their clothes and tried to upset them. Draco was half-shouting as he said, "Of course, those structures are long gone. A lot of people have come and gone since then. As far as I seem to recall, this current tower is well under than a thousand years old."

He saw Harry nod and then they both gave up on further communication. The wind had become something wild and it was clear why there was no one else climbing the hill that day. Feeling the wind tugging at him each time he lifted a foot to take another step forward, Draco was silently thankful that - slight though he was - he wasn't any lighter, or he might have simply been blown off the hill. He continued to trudge forward with his head down, his face tucked into his jacket, until he bumped into Harry, who had suddenly stopped in front of him.

His balance upset, Harry lurched to the side, the wind aiding him along. He might have fallen, in which case he would have surely rolled down the entire hill, unable to stop until he would smash into a tree or worse - but Malfoy grabbed him by the back of his jacket and steadied them both. After pausing a moment to catch their breath, they both turned their faces up towards the great tower that loomed right in front of them.

Neither bothered to say a thing, as the wind howling around them was louder than they could easily overcome. Gripping their jackets tightly about themselves, they shuffled up to the tower, fair and dark hair whipping about their heads and into their eyes. Harry stared up at the plain, lone tower in front of him. It had no ornate decorations, but was simply roughly shaped stone, spotted here and there with narrow windows and a hint of turrets at the top. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy disappear around the corner, then pop back a moment later, gesturing for Harry to follow him. He reluctantly did and saw that the tower was hollow, a doorway cutting through its opposite sides.

Ducking into hollow inside the tower, little light coming from the small doorways and windows, he stood next to Malfoy and eagerly swallowed the calmer air. The gusts outside were so strong that it had been difficult to breathe - as soon as he had opened his mouth to take a breath, the wind had snatched it away. Harry stared up into the tower. There were no longer any floors left and through the shadowy dark, he could see all the way to the top. Draco was laughing breathlessly next to him and Harry turned to look at him disbelievingly. "What is it now?"

Draco turned to meet his dark look with eyes that were bright and alive, and full of laughter. "Don't you feel it?" Harry blinked owlishly and the blond continued, "Amazing! It's like being on the top of the world. It feels like if we were to jump in the air, the wind would simply whisk us away."

"If you jumped into the air, it probably would," Harry muttered, "right into an early grave, when your body came crashing down hundreds of feet to the village below us."

But Draco simply laughed again, carefree, and Harry had to admit that it was a bit fun, in a death-defying sort of way. He stepped back out onto the hilltop and, being slightly unprepared, was nearly rolled over by the wind. Bracing himself against the tower wall for a moment, he managed to straighten himself back up and look out over the countryside. It was remarkably flat and even now it almost looked like an ocean, made of patchwork greens and browns. He could see other, smaller hills in the distance, but otherwise it seemed as if he were, literally, on the top of the world.

The noise was so tremendous he couldn't even hear himself think. All he could do was be there and be alive, and he drank the feeling in eagerly. His skin tingled from the cold wind and his nose and eyes burned. He could feel muscles in his body that he'd forgot he had, as he had to fight to keep himself upright against the gusts. He glanced to his right and saw that Malfoy had taken up his own spot on the other side of the doorway. The crazy blond had his arms spread out as wide as he could fling them, as if he might take flight then and there. His head was thrown back, laughing, though not a sound of it could be heard over the wind, and his hair was plastered back away from his face.

Was this really the same man who described himself as being dead? In that moment, he seemed like the most alive person Harry had ever seen. And maybe it didn't seem so bad to be like Malfoy after all.

Looking down at himself, where his arms were clenched around his body, Harry slowly began to let go. His fingers moved stiffly from the cold and were reluctant to unfurl from where they'd been clenched into his jacket, but they did. Shakily extending his arms out to his sides, he raised them until he was imitating Draco's pose. The wind roared around his body and he gasped. It was like flying. Like the first time he had flown on Buckbeak. Or the last time he'd flown on a broomstick.

A slow smile crept over his face, as Harry stood there letting the wind beat against him. He turned his slitted eyes back to Malfoy and as he looked at the thin blond being buffeted by the wind, he had the strangest feeling that Malfoy really would jump and be whisked away. Stumbling slightly in the wind, he moved closer until he could just reach out and snag the blond by his jacket sleeve. Draco started in surprise and turned to stare at Harry. His eyes were full of some indescribable longing and Harry wanted to look away, but he felt as if he couldn't. Faced with the raw emotions on Malfoy's face, his fingers loosened and he let go of the other man's sleeve. He half expected the blond to disappear. But Draco's white hand shot out, fast and sure as it always had been, and grabbed Harry's sleeve in return, ballasting himself back on earth.

The wind continued to roar, louder than the blood that Harry could feel pounding through his veins. Finally Draco let go of his sleeve and started towards the path which led back down the hill. Harry continued to stand at the top of the hill for several long moments, savouring the sense of flying. Then he hurried after the blond, staggering against the wind as they headed back down the face of the hill. The wind grew less and less as they re-entered reality. After the tremendous sound at the top of the hill, the whole world seemed quiet and muffled, and Harry didn't want to open his mouth to say anything. It seemed like it would break whatever spell had been cast on them on top of that ancient hill. But as they trudged back through the village, their hair and eyes still wild, the everyday sounds pressed back in on them and the magical feeling faded anyway.

Running his hands through his fair hair, Draco suggested mildly, "Pub lunch?"

Harry nodded mutely and they continued to walk aimlessly through the village, until they came across what appeared to be the high street. Ducking into a likely looking pub, they leaned against the bar gratefully and looked over the menu scrawled on a blackboard on the wall. Quickly ordering two beef and ale pies and two pints of Leffe, they trudged over to a small table and dropped into their chairs tiredly. "Somehow," Harry spoke for the first time, "that was exhausting."

Draco grinned tiredly but didn't say anything more. Harry looked at him carefully but whatever strange thoughts he'd had on the hill were gone, and it was just regular, annoying Malfoy he was faced with now, who surely wasn't going anywhere. He asked, "So why did you really want to come to Glastonbury?"

Malfoy looked a bit confused, as he repeated, "Why?" He took a sip of his Leffe and said, "Because I wanted to see the Tor. I told you that."

Harry frowned and asked doubtfully, "Really?"

Draco's look of mild confusion had deepened into bewilderment and he said, "Yes, really. I like ruins."

He seemed to be telling the truth, though there was no guarantee any longer. Harry was dumbfounded. That was really the only reason? There hadn't been some ulterior purpose or some plan to trick Harry into doing something stupid like drinking his weight in alcohol? He had simply wanted to go somewhere and he'd brought Harry along for the ride?

Still staring at the blond doubtfully, Harry thought he would almost rather believe that the blond had something up his sleeve. It would seem less bizarre. Though it wasn't like Malfoy could seem anything less than bizarre in Harry's estimation. He suggested, "Then I've got somewhere I want to go."

"That's nice," Draco said in very uninterested tone, as he sipped his beer.

Harry glared at him, but continued, "Let's go shopping."

This got a reaction, at least, as Malfoy burst out laughing. "You want to go shopping? Not that it's a bad idea - you desperately need to do some shopping, obviously. I don't think your wardrobe has changed since we were in school, but still..." He looked at Harry with mirthful grey eyes. "You want me to go shopping with you? That's your big plan? I take you to a spectacular monument of our civilisation and you want to go shopping?"

Right on cue, Harry was getting angrily embarrassed like always. He insisted hotly, "I wasn't aware that this was some sort of competition to see the wonders of the world or something! I just meant that I wanted to do some shopping - magical shopping - and that if there was any place to go where we wouldn't be recognised, you would know it."

This shut Malfoy up for a moment and he looked thoughtful. "Magical shopping, eh? You mean, Diagon Alley, all that?"

"Well, yes," Harry said sulkily, now that he'd finished his outburst. "But we'd be mobbed for sure if we actually went to Diagon Alley."

"That's probably true. I haven't been for years, so I'm not sure what it's like now, but I imagine it can't have changed that much from the old days."

Their food was brought over by the barman and they both fell silent for a moment. As they began to tuck into their pies, though, Malfoy mumbled, "There might not be a better place, though."

Harry quickly swallowed his mouthful of hot pie, burning his throat as he did so. Wincing painfully, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Draco said, blowing on his next spoonful of pie, "there are other magical shops here and there, but an entire shopping district, where you can get everything you need in one go? Your only choices are Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade." He slurped up the sufficiently cooled pie and chewed thoughtfully. "It might just be best to go to one of them. In disguise, perhaps?"

"If you know the spells, I could handle the disguises," Harry offered without thinking. Then realising how agreeable he was being, he recanted awkwardly, "I mean, then you could go get a replacement wand and you wouldn't be so much damned trouble all the time."

Draco's face became strangely still and he didn't say anything, but continued eating his pie in silence. Harry felt even more awkward. First he'd sounded like one of Malfoy's sycophants, then he'd just sounded like an ass. Sighing, he ate his own lunch in silence. Finally, Malfoy spoke up, "At any rate, it looks like I might be gone for the week. Going to Scotland for some business. So it would have to wait till after that."

"Scotland?" Harry asked in surprise. "You don't mean...?" The only place he could think of where Malfoy might have business in Scotland would be...

"Hogwarts, yes." Draco said the words easily enough, though his fingers tightened around his glass.

Harry's food lay forgotten in front of him, growing chill. Hogwarts... the name had come up just the night before, when he'd told Malfoy about what had happened to Hermione. But it couldn't have to do with her, could it? Why would Malfoy bother, even? He asked again, as he had earlier in the car, "Does it have anything to do with Hermione?"

Draco looked at him with a hint of his usual mocking attitude. "You know I won't answer."

"You will," Harry said solemnly.

Draco's eyebrows arched up in question, disappearing under his fringe. "You mean to use your last question? On something that might not even pan out?"

"I want to know." Harry's eyes were flat and unwavering. Though why should he bother? Even he didn't know. He'd cut Hermione out of his life long ago, just as he'd cut everyone else out as well. But now that Malfoy was here - if Draco had some sort of connection to Hermione - he just had to know. "I'll use my last question, so tell me: does it have anything to do with Hermione?"

Draco looked straight at the other man and said simply, "Yes." He took a sip from his glass of Leffe.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He'd been right. He asked hurriedly, "What is it? Why would you be interested in Hermione?"

But Draco shook his head dismissively. He pulled the paper from his pocket and Harry watched with a sinking feeling as the blond uncapped his pen and made one final mark under Harry's name. Then he spoke, and confirmed Harry's suspicions. "You've used your last question, Potter."

Malfoy was somehow growing more distant, while still sitting just inches from him. It was the same feeling Harry had experienced on top of the hill. He suggested desperately, "Well, then, let's extend the game. You can have ten more questions to ask me, and I'll take ten more as well." Those grey eyes were watching him disdainfully and he nearly begged, "Or you can have twenty more for my ten, okay? So what do you have to do with Hermione?"

Draco snapped the cap back into place and put it and the paper back in his pocket. "Changing the rules now would make the game pointless. You knew the rules when you started playing." Picking up his glass to drain it, he told Harry in a hard voice, "No more questions."