Gingerbread House

The fog in the room was oppressing Draco. He felt almost smothered by the gray mist. He couldn't breath in the thickness. "Harry...?" Draco hated how weak his voice sounded, how young, how scared. He hated the fog.

When Draco had been five, his mother had taken him and his father to visit her relatives. With nothing to do, and no one to play with as his parents visited, Draco had wandered off on his own.

Right into Dartmoor. Famous worldwide in the Wizarding World for its Hell Hounds.

Draco, too young to understand what was going on, had been terrified when the fog had started rising. He could longer see the house that his parents and aunt were at. He could barely see his hand in front of his face.

And then the growling had started. From behind. Then in front.

From all sides, growing closer and closer, as all Draco could do was to scream for his father.

Then a flash of teeth, in front of his face, and Draco ran. He didn't know where he was going; he didn't know what was chasing him.

Instinctual flight.

He had only been vaguely aware that he was still screaming.

He remembered hearing his father's bass voice screaming out an exile spell - no one really knew how to banish the Hell Hounds, if indeed that is what they were, but there were a few spells that would slow them down - grabbing Draco into his arms and starting his own desperate flight out of the fog and toward the lights.

They had made it back. No one seemed to have noticed that either was gone and no one was outside to greet them. Draco liked it better that way. He enjoyed the feeling of his father holding him tight, holding him close as Draco sobbed.After about a minute, when Lucius had been able to catch his breath, he tilted Draco's head up and wiped away the tears. "Malfoys don't cry."

Draco tried to calm his breathing, hyperventilating would not help in this situation.

Was that howling he heard in the distance?

"POTTER!" Draco shouted. His father may have known the spells to exile a Hell Hound, but Draco most certainly did not. The best he could probably do was manage a Banishing charm. "POTTER!"

The howling seemed to be getting closer. It was the only sound Draco could hear in the fog. He slowly began backing away from where he thought the howls were coming from.

The calls were answered. And those bays were coming from the direction that Draco was heading. He jumped. "POTTER!" he shouted one last time. It still didn't even echo, but seemed sucked into the strong fog. "Fuck it," he muttered, and shifted.

If his father had insisted that Draco learn everything there was to know about Potions, his mother had insisted that Draco be proficient in Transfiguration. That included, in the last year, learning to be an Animagus. The training had been rigorous and difficult, changing limb by limb gradually, until the full transformation had taken place.

In the end, his Animagus form was more than worth it. Whenever Draco flew as an eagle, he found himself wondering if this was how Potter felt on a broom. Why Potter was so good, so natural in the air.

Draco flexed his wings against the fog, trying to lift himself out of it. Or at least get high enough into the air that perhaps he might be able to spot Potter. And most definitely get away from the Hell Hounds.

The higher he flew, the more the fog seemed to press down on him. Draco forced his wings to beat harder and faster, and cast his gaze around him but all he saw was the damn fog! And the howling was getting closer.

It was accompanied by the sound of thumping, the sounds of the Hounds running. Draco remembered that sound very well; it haunted some of his more gruesome nightmares. He fought harder, crying out, hearing the shriek flow through his beak over the baying of the Hounds.

He had to get away, he had to fly.

But no matter how hard he tried, the fog didn't lift! No matter where he went, it was there!

"Resolvo Praestigiae!" Draco forced his body to dive toward the source of the spell.

It was Harry.

He was standing in a small clear patch. It seemed as if his spell, which Draco dimly realized the formula of a basic Dark Arts spell, had created a bubble in which he was protected from the fog.

Unfortunately, Draco himself bounced off the protection bubble as well. The crash created a violent clash of colored light. Damn Potter!

The black-haired boy looked up as the brilliant light faded, and squinted. His jaw was clenched tightly and Draco could see that Harry had a death grip on his wand. "Malfoy? Is that you?" he asked quietly. "I can't see anything outside the circle," it came out as a whisper.

Draco flapped his wings in exasperation, and no small amount of fear. The Hounds were closing. He dropped back to the ground, and shifted out of his Animagus form, before trying to enter the circle again.

This time it worked. Harry looked over at him, and seemed distinctly relieved. "Get over here, Malfoy. I can't hold this spell alone for a very long time, you have to set it quickly!"

Draco did as he was told, this was definitely not the time to argue with the Gryffindor. "How?"

"Any basic binding spell in the -" Harry gasped, cutting himself off and grabbing his chest - his heart - with his free hand. "The Vercen," a drop of blood rolled out of Harry's mouth, "family. Qui - quickly!" Draco turned towards the faint circle of light that grounded Harry's spell, and tried to remember the variant he had been referring to. Still coughing, Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's arm in a punishing grip. "Erhalte."

Draco nodded and raised his wand, pointing towards the ground. "Erhalte," he found heard himself say in a surprisingly calm voice. He waited, as the fog seemed to press in on them, and watched his spell take hold, grabbing Harry's spell, grounding it so that the power was pulled from the illusion - the damn fog - rather than Harry himself. The circle flashed brilliantly and expanded back to the original proportions. Draco stared at the light for a moment before turning back.

Harry was on his hands and knees, grasping for breath. He was pale, shaking, and looked exhausted. "Well, well, well," Draco finally said after watching Harry breathe. "Wonders never cease. Harry Potter, the very picture of Gryffindor rectitude, using the Dark Arts."

Harry flopped down on the ground, and groaned as he rolled over onto his back. He had dropped his wand, and Draco was fairly sure he saw blood on it as it lay on the ground. Harry did have an awfully strong grip. "Prat," he said, leveling an extremely weak glare at Draco.

Draco laughed, before turning to look at the protective barrier they set. "Why don't you tell me exactly what this spell does?"

Harry closed his eyes, and then slowly reached up to rub his eyelids with his palms. "It's a ward variant, specifically used in illusion spells. More powerful than simplified wards, because it pulls directly out of the caster's magical reserves unless it's grounded to the illusion - which is what you did."

"How long do you think it'll be effective?"

Harry shrugged as best as he could from his supine position. "I don't know. It depends on if that fog out there really is a proper illusion. Or something else entirely. But it should be long enough for us to come up with the plan. Was that you who crashed into the spell and disrupted my concentration?"

Draco nodded, before realizing Harry still had his eyes covered. "Yes."

"What's your form, then?"

Draco stared at the black-haired boy, and found himself sinking to the ground in surprise. "What?"

"Animagi are a variation, an illusion given life, based on aspects of ourselves. The only way you would have crashed into the wall is if you were in an Animagus form. So, what are you?"

"Oh," Draco said, still astounded. It was quite unreasonable for Potter to suddenly develop the ability to be logical. Especially not on top of the revelation about the Dark Arts. "Eagle."

Harry opened his eyes and slowly sat up. He wrapped his arms around his legs and sighed, before looking over at Draco and smiling. He tilted his head to the right and said, "It suits you." Draco snorted, and Harry's smile grew wider. "Oh shut up, and help me up. We have to figure out what to do." He slowly lifted his left hand in the air, and reached for Draco's right. Draco was surprised that the Gryffindor thought he'd be able to stand at all, but did as he was bidden.

As soon as Harry was standing gingerly, Draco let go and scowled. He'd taken far too many of the Gryffindor's orders in the last few minutes for his own taste. "So what do you propose we do?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, really. This place doesn't seem familiar to me. Do you know it?"

Draco stiffened. "What does that have to do with anything?"

The Gryffindor glared in response. "Everything. Or weren't you listening to Hansel? These places come from us. It's our nightmares and fears we have to face and get away from -"

"Like you faced Diggory?" Draco hissed before he could stop himself.

Harry's hands clenched, and his face turned bright red. Draco vaguely wondered if he'd be physically attacked for the ... third? fourth? time since this entire mess started. He tried to slowly bring up his wand and have it ready against any magical attacks even as he rotated onto the balls of his feet to dodge. "I'll thank you to not mention Cedric ever again," Harry said quietly.The words were full of menace, a tone that Draco had until that point believed only Snape capable of.

"Carrying a torch, Potter?" While this may not have been the smartest thing Draco had ever done, at least it removed the attention from him.

"Don't talk of things you know nothing of, Malfoy," Harry hissed as he brought up his wand. So much for the truth. "Stille für den toten Diggory," Potter shouted. Draco tried to dodge, but the flash of gold light followed him. "Oh don't look so murderous, Draco," Potter sat back down on the ground. "I only hexed you so that you won't ever be able to say his name until I provide the counter-curse."

Draco snorted. "Regardless of how mild it is, Potter, I advise against cursing me. You're the one who wanted the damn truce in the first place, you bloody hypocrite!"

"Takes one to know one, eh, Malfoy?" Potter smirked, and Draco quickly tried to pick an appropriate hex.

A loud smashing distracted him, and both Draco and Potter turned to the barrier. A large section of it had turned yellow, where something had crashed into it. Draco pointed his wand at the stain, and cast a revealing charm.

In front of the two boys, the picture of a large, black and red dog appeared. It was snarling, with long overhanging canines. The Hound's eyes were glowing red, like fire, and to Draco it almost looked as if the coloring came from... being skinned. "What in the fucking hell is that?" Potter burst out.

Draco gulped. It was as he remembered. "It's a Hell Hound."

"Well, how the fuck do you stop them?"

"I don't know," Draco whispered, staring at the picture as it faded from view. He could dimly hear the sounds of the other Hounds baying in the distance. They were trapped in Potter's neat little bubble, and sooner or later - most likely sooner - those Hounds would get through. There was no way out. They were going to die.

Potter reached over and shook Draco. "Snap out of it!" Draco just looked at him. Why bother, it didn't matter, they were going to die. "Some help you are, Malfoy," Potter shouted. They needed help, but it wouldn't make a difference. He wondered if there really was such a thing as Heaven. "You're a useless waste of space, you don't deserve the name Malfoy!"

Now that was just too much. Draco punched Potter, sending him flying against the other side of the barrier. "When we get out of this, Potter, I'm going to hex you into the next century," Draco hissed. Potter smiled.

"Good to have you back. Now, here's what we're going to do -"

"Why should I listen to you?" Draco broke in. "You're a Gryffindor, you wouldn't know a good plan if it bite you in the arse!" Almost as a punctuation to Draco's words, another Hound came crashing into the barrier behind Potter. "What we need to do is two separate things: make this barrier mobile, and find our way out."

Potter glared, but nodded. "I can probably rearrange the parameters of the spell so that it's not centered into the ground, but rather centered in the space around us. But I haven't a clue on how to find the way out."

"The Mudblood hasn't forced tracing charms down your throat yet, I take it?" Potter flushed red again.

"Stop being insulting and do what you need to do. I'll start working on the spell." Potter sighed. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Draco stared at him before waving the apology away. There were more important things to worry about. Like survival. "Let me know when you're ready, and I'll remove the binding spell."

Harry grunted in acknowledgement, before kneeling to the ground and touching the edge of the barrier. Draco snorted, seeing once again what made the idiot a Gryffindor, and picked up some dirt off the ground. He examined it, trying to find a physical clue to where they were before trying magical methods. Lightly touching the handful of dirt with his free hand, Draco was fairly sure that he felt sand in the mixture, and a small bit of coal. He scowled, unable to put a physical place to go with that mixture. "Rescisco Ingressio," he commanded, pointing his wand at the dirt in his hand. It glowed purple and when Draco threw the dirt back onto the ground, the purple expanded into a line - a trail - to follow. He just hoped it was the appropriate spell, it was quite possible that his tracing charm would lead them deeper into the fog. "I'm ready," he rapped out to Harry.

The Gryffindor was standing right in front of the barrier, wand out, looking directly at the snarling face of a Hound, and chanting. Draco had to give the fool his due, he supposed that going toe-to-toe with the Dark Lord would give anyone a high fear threshold. Harry's head whipped around, and he sent a fierce glare at Draco. "Remove the spell, and then recast it by using 'Erhalte mich'." Draco nodded, and did as Harry said. He felt the rush of magic, as a connection was formed, and Harry seemed to glow purple as the spell took hold. Harry lowered his wand. "All right, then?" Draco nodded, and pointed to his trail. Harry's lips quirked into a small smile. "I'll lead, then?"

With that, they began following the trail. Both Harry and Draco had their wands out. "Where'd you learn to modify spells?" Draco asked into the silence. He felt slightly odd about breaking it considering that they were in a life-or-death situation.

Harry shot him an amused glance, and Draco found himself jealous at the Gryffindor's cavalier attitude in the face of such demonic beings as Hell Hounds. "Hermione, actually. She drags Ron and I up to the Charms classroom once a week, and we all practice modifications on basic spells." His smile began wider and proud. "She's even created a few spells of her own."

"Thrilled for her, truly I am," Draco drawled, keeping his eyes on the purple line. Harry's smile dropped off his face, and he turned away.

Harry jumped slightly as another Hound crashed into the barrier; it bulged inwards slightly. Draco was absurdly pleased that the Gryffindor could still be surprised. He disliked this new Potter. He was too... Wizarding, Draco supposed. In all of his dealings with Harry, very rarely did the Gryffindor ever think to use magic first. And it seemed as if Harry had gone beyond that.

But, as Draco considered, even with Diggory or the fights they had earlier in the house, Harry's first instinct had been for physical action. Not magical.

Something was very wrong, and Draco just couldn't put his finger on it.

"We're here, Malfoy." Harry was pointing at the ground where the purple trail had abruptly stopped. There was no sign of a door anywhere, however it seemed as if the Hell Hounds had wandered off to look for more accessible meat. At the very least, they weren't crashing Harry's barrier. Harry turned to Draco and smiled, a full-blown, unrestrained grin.

"I don't see what's so funny, Harry," Draco replied, looking around nervously.

Harry's grin grew wider, exposing his white teeth. "We've found the beginning, Malfoy." With a wave of his wand, Harry banished the barrier. Draco gaped at him; wordless spells, while like wandless magic was possible, it was extremely difficult to accomplish and generally took decades of training to prepare for. It required a conscious control of a person's innate magic that Potter shouldn't have. Draco began to back away slowly.

"Who are you?"

"You remember the beginning, Malfoy? In Madame Malkin's shop? You going on about the importance of blood?" Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Well, I'll grant that you didn't say it overtly, but in retrospect, that was exactly what you meant. And to think, seven years later, you still haven't learned that blood has nothing to do with. Tom Riddle is a half-blood. I'm a half-blood. You're a pure blood, and we have far more ability than you could ever dream of achieving. It's talent that matters, Malfoy, and I pity you for ever buying into his revolution." Potter sneered and raised his wand towards Draco. "Goodbye, Malfoy. Can't say I'll miss you." Draco raised his wand and shouted the first curse that came to mind.

"Expelliarmus!"

Potter laughed and stepped closer, his long, elegant wand still held delicately in his fingers. "Avada," Draco tensed and readied to dodge. "Kedav -" Something rushed out of the fog and knocked Potter to the ground.

"RUN!"

Draco did as he was told.