Eclipse

Chapter 8

Burning Bridges, Throwing Ropes

*******

"Just hurry, before I change whatever's left of my mind."

Harry stared at Draco uncertainly. The other boy's pale face was strained with anxiety, and his outstretched hand was shaking. After everything that had happened, there was no real reason for Harry to trust Draco. His behaviour had been bizarre and erratic. One moment they'd almost seemed to understand each other, the next the bastard was using the Cruciatus curse on him. Then apologizing, then sneering. There was nothing consistent for him to measure Draco against now.

Harry took a slow breath, trying to force the room to stay steady as it seemed to rock beneath him. How much blood had he lost? He felt so tired, far too lethargic to make any sense of Draco's strange behaviour. True, Draco seemed sincere; he'd returned Harry's wand, after all, and he'd even healed the gash Voldemort had left on Harry's arm, despite being told that it was unnecessary. He'd apologized. Numerous times. That didn't mean Harry had to trust him, though.

But there were no other options. And there was nothing left to lose...

Slowly, Harry reached up and clasped Draco's hand.

Immediately, Draco hauled Harry to his feet, but almost as quickly Harry's legs gave out underneath him. He felt himself going faint and he pitched forwards. He closed his eyes, expecting to collapse face-down on the floor. But instead, Draco caught him under the arms and held him as he sagged helplessly against Draco's chest.

"Potter!" Draco's voice registered surprise and panic. "Can you stand? We have to get out of here!"

Harry struggled to pull his legs beneath him, but they wouldn't support his weight. It was worse than a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and it was disgustingly embarrassing. He moaned softly against the nauseating rush of blood in his ears.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Draco cried in exasperation.

There was a grunt of effort, and Harry found himself being hoisted up; his left arm was slung across Draco's shoulder, and an arm encircled his waist. He opened his eyes blearily as Draco half-carried him out of the cell and, with surprising gentleness, settled him into the soft quilts on the guard chair. Draco knelt in front of him, before reaching out and pressing the back of his hand against Harry's forehead. He frowned.

"You're all clammy."

Harry ignored the faint urge to make a snide comment about blood loss, Dark Lords, and medical shock. He sunk deeper into the quilts and closed his eyes as another wave of dizziness washed over him, then croaked, "Water."

Draco nodded, glancing around the cell. Biddy had taken all the dishes away earlier. Draco grimaced as he reached into his robes and withdrew a small flask and his wand. Harry had seen Draco drinking from the flask at regular intervals, and he was sure it contained some sort of potion.

"Well, I suppose I don't really need this anymore," Draco muttered. "Facera Aqua."

Harry looked up at him questioningly, then stared suspiciously at the proffered flask.

"Drink up, Potter. It's just water now."

Harry reached out and accepted the flask, almost dropping it in his weakness. He brought it up to his nose to smell it, tentatively. Draco was right; it was just water. Harry managed to place the opening between his lips and upend it without spilling too much. The water felt so good and cool against his parched throat, but it churned in his painfully empty stomach. Finally, he passed the empty flask back to Draco and forced a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Can you drink any more? I can refill it."

The smile faded. "I don't think so."

Draco didn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he conceded by twisting the cap back on to the flask and tucking it into his robes. "Biddy will be back any moment," he said flatly. "Can you walk?"

Despite knowing how close he was to passing out, the very idea of Draco Malfoy suggesting he couldn't do something as easy as walking was just too demeaning. "Of course I can."

Draco smirked. "Sure, Potter. We'll see."

"I... just give me a minute, okay?"

"Well, a minute is just about all you do have, unless you still want to be sitting here when Macnair comes back. And you don't, do you?"

Harry swallowed a surge of nausea, and shook his head weakly.

Draco's expression became grim. "We'll manage." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Harry.

Harry squinted at Draco and suddenly realized exactly how scared Draco was. Despite his outward calm, the other boy was paler than usual, and his voice wavered slightly. He was taking a huge risk, trying to make such a bold escape. Certainly it was what Harry had hoped for, but he hadn't really expected it... not after everything that had happened. Not like this.

"Why are you doing this, Malfoy?"

Draco's head snapped up, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to answer, but instead he quickly turned his head away. As he did so, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box. Harry watched curiously as Draco revealed a dingy old Muggle compass and looped the attached cord around his own neck. He deftly flipped it open and held it out in the dim torchlight. Around the outer edge of the main display was a circular bezel ring with the letters "N" and "S" clearly marked on it. Draco rotated the compass until the needle lined up with the "N" on the dial, then grasped the ring and twisted it 180 degrees, aligning the needle with the "S." He then closed the compass and quickly tucked it into his robes.

Harry stared. "What's...?"

"It's a Mislocator. They won't be able to track us as long as we have this."

"Are you sure?"

Draco glanced up at Harry and twisted his lips pensively. "Well, I used it the night I captured you, and Dumbledore never caught us. He had a tracking charm on you, you know."

"Tracking charm?" Harry asked blankly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"

Harry shook his head. Dumbledore must have put the charm on him after his mishap at the Ministry the previous spring, and Harry felt a sudden flash of irritation at this unannounced invasion of his privacy.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. You-Know-Who removed it anyway, so it won't be of any help to us."

Harry nodded vaguely, as something tugged at the edge of his thoughts. Then it hit him. "Wait a minute. The Mislocator! That's why the Marauders' Map didn't work."

Draco wrinkled up his nose. "The what?"

"The Marauders'... never mind. It's just... I'd checked the hallways that night, and there was no sign of anyone. Much less you." Harry closed his eyes as another dizzy spell assaulted him, and then whispered hoarsely, "I'd wondered how you'd done it, that's all."

He opened one eye and looked across at Draco. Again, the other boy seemed to be about to speak, but before he could do so, there was a sharp cracking noise as Biddy appeared.

"Master Malfoy, sir! Biddy is having packed sandwiches and fruit and biscuits, and charmed it like Master said, Master Malfoy, sir! Biddy is not knowing what else Master is wanting her to bring, sir." She held out a small sack.

Draco stood quickly, grasped the strap of the sack, and slung across his chest. "It will have to be enough." He paused, and then glanced back over his shoulder. "Almost enough."

Draco moved quickly to the corner where Biddy had put his bags the day he'd arrived. After a brief moment of shuffling through the contents of the larger bag, Harry saw him stuff something into the sack Biddy had given him, although he couldn't see what it was.

"Biddy, are you sure you remember the way out?" Draco asked as he walked back to Harry.

The house-elf wrung her hands nervously. 'Yes sir, Master Malfoy, sir."

"Good, because you're leading the way." He looked down at Harry. "Potter, are you sure you can walk?"

Harry felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I told you, yes."

Instead of arguing, Draco smirked in amusement. He suddenly leaned forward, grasped Harry's arm, and pulled the startled boy to his feet. Harry cried out softly in surprise. His legs wobbled unsteadily beneath him, and again, he could feel himself becoming faint. Draco released his arm, and almost immediately, Harry found himself falling.

Just as quickly, Draco caught him again, and held him firmly by the forearms.

Swallowing his pride, Harry leaned his weight against Draco, trying to regain his balance and his breath.

Draco snickered at him. "Of course you can walk on your own. The great Harry Potter can do anything."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Want me to drop you?" Draco loosened his grip just fractionally.

"No!" Harry cried, as he felt himself slipping again. "I mean... I..."

Draco's hands tightened around Harry's arms again, and he pulled Harry up a little bit. "Relax, Potter. I'm not going to let you fall. This time."

Harry nodded; then realized just how physically close he was to Draco. He squirmed slightly. "Er, Malfoy? If I can't walk, how the hell are we going to get out of here?"

At that, Draco smiled at him. In one swift movement, Harry found his left arm once again looped over the back of Draco's neck and shoulders, held in place by Draco's left hand, while Draco's right hand supported him firmly at the waist. "I figure," Draco said, "that I dragged you in here, so it's probably poetic justice that I have to drag your arse back out."

Harry felt another rush of embarrassment. "You are not going to carry me, Malfoy."

"Do you have any better ideas, genius?"

Harry stammered, "I... I'm too heavy."

"Potter, you don't weigh eight stone, soaking wet."

Even more embarrassed, Harry tried to protest, "I... er... I..."

"Thought so." Strangely, Draco didn't sound like he was gloating, the way he normally would. He sounded almost comforting. He looked over at Biddy, who was still wringing her hands nervously.

"All right Biddy, lead the way."

It was all Harry could manage to stumble along quickly enough not to cause them both to trip. Draco was setting the pace, moving at nearly a full jog, still supporting most of Harry's weight. Despite Draco's help, within a minute, Harry's heart was thundering painfully in his chest, the air burning his throat as they rushed along. Trying to ignore the pain, he focused on watching Biddy as she led them down the passage, which was lit only by the most sparsely placed of torches. The house-elf would race ahead, double back to squeak encouragements, and then race ahead again. Soon though, even holding his head up to watch Biddy became too much effort, and his head drooped against Draco's shoulder, pride completely forgotten.

Biddy came to a halt at a fork in the tunnel, and held up a hand for them to stop. Harry could feel Draco's chest heaving; the boy was as much out of breath as Harry was, but he was still standing steadily under Harry's weight.

"Master Malfoy, sir, there is no more lights after this, sir."

"Fine," Draco said breathlessly. He shifted Harry's weight slightly, then fumbled in his robes and withdrew his wand. "Lumos."

Harry raised his head and stared down the tunnel. They were facing the left fork, which descended sharply, leading down beneath the fortress.

"All right, Potter?"

Harry turned to look at Draco. The young man was regarding him with obvious concern, eyebrows furrowed together. With Draco's face less than half a foot away, it was a somewhat disconcerting sight.

"Fine... I'm fine."

Draco nodded solemnly. "All right then, but you look like hell." A corner of Draco's mouth twitched up into a faint smile before he looked away. He hesitated for a moment, then held his wand out to Biddy. "You carry this," he said, sounding extremely reluctant. "Just carry it. Nothing else. I can't hold both the wand and Potter."

Before Harry could blink, they were off again. The stones of the floor appeared to race past, giving way to loose gravel and rocks, slick with condensation. The air became colder as they descended, burning again in Harry's lungs. His foot slid on a rock, and his right hand quickly snaked up and grasped the front of Draco's shirt, to try to steady himself against the other boy. Draco tightened his hold around Harry's waist, but he didn't slow. Harry began to lose track of how long they'd been moving, although it couldn't have been more than ten minutes; he was only aware of the desperate need to keep placing one foot in front of the other.

The steep descent finally became level, but after only a few steps on even ground, Harry found himself sloshing through ankle-deep puddles. Fatigue was beginning to blanket his awareness in a dull fog. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. The stones under the water were coated in algae, causing his feet to slide with each step. Finally, his foot caught on an unseen rock below the dark surface of a puddle and his feet slipped out from underneath him. He lost his tenuous grip on Draco's shoulder and pitched forward, landing hard on his side. Cold water soaked through his shirt and trousers, but he barely noticed. He was so tired, and everything hurt so badly, and it felt so good to be lying still. He closed his eyes.

"Potter!"

Hands shook his arm, and then lifted the side of his face out of the water.

"Snap out of it! We're almost at the end of the tunnel!"

Harry tried to move, but it was just too much effort. Why was Malfoy pestering him anyway? Malfoy was always such a pain in the arse. Why couldn't the prat just leave him alone? Let him sleep? He was so tired, so terribly tired.

Harry tried to tell him to go away, but all that came out was an unintelligible groan.

"Potter, open your eyes!" Draco sounded desperate.

Harry forced his eyes open, just barely. He could see Draco kneeling next to him in the puddle, and Biddy shining a light at them, but they both seemed so far away. Everything was numb and distant. Harry's eyes fell shut again.

"Don't you dare pass out! You're not stopping now."

Something was whispered. Harry felt the familiar warm tingle of a charm being placed on him, and his whole body seemed strangely light; a Weightlessness Charm. Then he was being scooped up and lifted from the puddle.

Harry vaguely registered the fact that he was being carried by Draco, cradled tightly against the other boy's chest. He didn't have the strength to protest. Draco's uneven stride jostled him. At one point, Harry felt Draco stumble slightly, and the arms holding Harry tightened their grip even more. The last thing Harry heard before he finally passed out was the sound of flowing water.

********

Draco stepped down from the end of the tunnel carefully, still holding Harry. There was a cave, just as Biddy had told him. A stream flowed through the middle of it, and the water and strange rock formations were brilliantly lit by golden sunlight slanting in at a low angle from the cave's entrance. Draco blinked a couple of times against the sudden brightness, trying to let his eyes adjust to it. When he squinted, he could see Biddy standing near the entrance, jumping excitedly.

It had taken no more than fifteen minutes to come this far, and with the Weightlessness Charm on Harry, Draco could easily carry him through the woods until it became too dark to see. Hopefully by then they'd be far enough away to hide for the night.

Draco glanced down at the boy lying limp in his arms. "Potter?"

No response.

"Potter?" Draco held his ear to Harry's mouth. The other boy was still breathing. In truth, it was amazing that Harry had gone as far as he had before collapsing, Draco realized. However, he was all right for the moment, and when they stopped for the night Draco would be able to have him eat, drink, and recover.

Draco picked his way across the uneven floor of the cave towards the entrance. He expected to find himself staring into the thick underbrush of the northern woodlands, but what he saw instead caused his heart to drop to his stomach.

"Biddy, you said there was safe passage into the forest!"

The entrance of the cave was set into the side of a rock face; not sheer, but steep enough, and craggy. Voldemort's fortress was set into the side of the mountain range, and despite the long descent through the tunnels, there was still a drop of about a hundred metres between the cave and the forest floor. Draco's mouth hung open in dismay. This sort of climbing would require all four limbs. Even if Harry was weightless, it would be impossible for Draco to carry him safely down the mountainside.

"Master Malfoy, sir," Biddy squeaked pitifully, "Biddy looked for a better passage, but Biddy found nothing, Master Malfoy sir. Biddy thought Master would be able to climb down, sir."

Draco bit his lip to stop himself from beginning a pointless argument. It was far too late to find another route. Carefully, Draco lowered Harry to the ground, propping him up against a rock just inside the cavern entrance. Harry sagged limply, and his head rolled to the side, completely unresponsive. Draco frowned. He could help Harry down to the forest floor, but Harry would have to do most of the work on his own. Since that was the case, Harry needed to eat and drink to regain some of his strength, but he couldn't do that while he was unconscious. There was no time, but there was also no choice. They had to stop.

"Biddy, here." Draco handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket. "Go and wet this in the river for me."

"Yes sir, Master Malfoy, sir," she whispered.

She ran off, and Draco turned back towards Harry. "Come on, Potter. I didn't carry your arse this far for you to give up now."

He reached up and shook Harry once, then again, more desperately. "You have to eat something, Potter. We don't have much time. Wake up."

He gritted his teeth, feeling anxiety starting to grip him again. "Don't do this to me, Harry. Not now."

*********

In the middle of a broad plain, an incomplete circle of giant stones stood out as mammoth silhouettes against the brilliance of the retreating sun. Within that circle, dark hooded figures were moving about busily. Some were arranging symbols on the ground; two were setting a huge cauldron over a purple bonfire in the centre of the circle. A final figure stood apart from the others, arms folded into his robes, surveying the work of those around him.

In the midst of everything stood Harry Potter.

I know this place, Harry realized with a start. Salisbury Plain. Stonehenge. What am I doing here? Is that...?

Harry's unvoiced question was answered as the solitary, robed figure turned in place, and two glittering, blood-red eyes peered out from under the edge of the hood. Harry could feel his scar starting to burn. His first instinct was to run, but he quickly realized that he wasn't really there. Another vision.

"Malfoy." Voldemort's voice grated painfully against Harry's ears.

Harry watched as one cloaked figure quickly approached and dropped into a low bow at Voldemort's feet. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Walk with me."

Lucius Malfoy stood, and fell into step beside Voldemort as the Dark Lord paced slowly around the area, surveying the work of the Death Eaters that he had selected for the night's ritual. Harry followed behind them, listening carefully.

"Lucius, I have some concerns about the preparedness of your son." Voldemort paused, awaiting Lucius' response.

"My Lord, Draco is both prepared and willing to serve you with honour. Malfoy blood runs in his veins, after all."

A low, throaty laugh escaped Voldemort. "So it does. I am well aware of this. The Malfoy name has served me well. Such loyal service shall be rewarded, but that loyalty must be absolute. Unwavering."

"It is, my Lord."

Voldemort spared a quick sideways glance at Lucius. "Your service to me is absolute, but what of your son? His character is not as strong as yours. He wavers. I have seen it. I feel it."

Lucius didn't reply for a moment, but when he did, his voice was noticeably thinner. "My Lord, he has served you dutifully. He has brought you Harry Potter."

At this, Voldemort suddenly drew up short and rounded on Lucius. The Death Eater began to drop into a bow, but Voldemort caught him lightly under the chin with two long fingers. Lucius' hood fell away as Voldemort tipped his chin upwards.

"That, Lucius, is the only reason I have not yet killed him."

Lucius' eyes widened slightly, but he otherwise showed no noticeable reaction. Harry, on the other hand, choked on his own breath. Sure, Draco had said... but Harry had never really believed...

Voldemort hooked his fingers, drawing Lucius' face an inch closer to his own. "Malfoy, why do you suppose I allowed your son to guard Potter unsupervised?"

Lucius swallowed, hardly moving. His words were hesitant. "Because, my Lord, Potter might have escaped if left unguarded, and the initiated Death Eaters were needed for other tasks... preparations for your glorious victory, my Lord."

Voldemort suddenly seized Lucius' jaw in a vice-like grip. "For all that you are amongst my best, you are blind in matters of your own blood." As he stared at Lucius, Voldemort's mouth slowly curled into a perverse smile. "Malfoy blood has indeed served me well, and it shall continue to do so. Much power flows in your son's veins, Lucius. He is the heir of a long line of fine wizards. You know this."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius choked.

"That power is bound to my service. On your son's word and on yours." He released Lucius' chin, but continued to hold the man with his stare.

"You should know that Potter could never escape on his own. You underestimate me by thinking so. A guard is completely unnecessary. No, I meant not to honour your son, but to test him.

"As a Malfoy, he aspires to achieve the heights of rank amongst my Death Eaters, and to rise to the heights of power after my inevitable victory. True to his name. But those with such high aspirations are also dangerous, Lucius. Instability in the loyalty of such individuals is unacceptable. There is no room for error amongst my highest ranking servants."

Lucius suddenly seemed to remember to breathe, as though he'd been bound in a trance. He sucked in a strained breath, then bowed his head quickly. "Yes, my Lord."

"It is good that you understand the importance of this, as tonight I shall be testing your son again, for the last time."

Lucius' head came up again, but he seemed to simultaneously shrink back in his robes. "My Lord...?"

"Your son will serve me, Malfoy, make no mistake of that. However... if I find that his loyalty is not... absolute... as I suspect it is not... I might need to find alternative ways for him to bring honour to his name. As you said, his blood is powerful. It will serve me well. Perhaps I might even add it to my cauldron tonight."

Lucius stared back at Voldemort for only an instant before his head fell.

Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. "You are one of my finest, Lucius, and you will be rewarded richly for your services. Now I must go and make my own preparations. In half an hour, send Macnair back to the fortress. And do not accompany him. Your son must stand, or fall, on his own now."

Without another word, Lucius slowly retreated from Voldemort and returned to his work. Voldemort once more surveyed the efforts of his Death Eaters, sneering in satisfaction. Harry watched it all in shock. His scar was burning fiercely, but he ignored it.

Draco. My God, he really was going to kill Draco.

*******

"Draco... Voldemort... blood... going to kill... Draco..."

Harry had begun moaning fitfully only moments after Draco had set him down, and those moans had shortly coalesced into a rather disturbing string of broken words. Draco could only imagine what sort of visions Harry might be having, but it was plainly another dream of Voldemort. He was doing his best to ignore the fact that his own name was being repeated alongside that of the Dark Lord. He readjusted the cloth on Harry's forehead and checked the boy's pulse, which was still erratic and weak, but seemed to be improving.

"Come on, Potter. I know you can hear me."

Draco held out his hand to Biddy, and she passed him the orange he'd asked her to peel for Harry. He waved the fruit under Harry's nose.

"I've got an orange waiting for you, Potter. I know you're hungry."

Finally, Harry's eyes fluttered open, peering dimly up at Draco, and finally seeming to recognize him. Draco breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Malfoy..." Harry started weakly. "I saw, I mean, I think I saw, like a dream, Voldemort and your father, and they were talking about you, and Voldemort planned to kill you tonight, and I had no idea, I mean, I was just trying to make you angry, I didn't know..."

As much as Draco was curious to know more about Harry's dream, there simply wasn't time for it now. Besides, hearing that his father and the Dark Lord were discussing his death was not on Draco's preferred list of pleasant entertainment. He put those thoughts firmly aside. Perhaps Harry had merely been hallucinating, not having a vision; but somehow Draco doubted that.

"Potter," he interrupted, "it's great that you're not dead and all, but will you shut up and eat something so we can get moving again?"

Harry looked down at the peeled fruit Draco was offering him. "Orange?" he asked stupidly.

"Yes, an orange. You know, one of those sweet, juicy things we call fruit. Great in compote or marmalade, but sometimes eaten fresh."

Harry stared at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potter, you passed out, and my guess is it might have had something to do with your not eating for three days."

"Oh." Harry reached out and took the fruit.

"Eat it fast. We still need to put a lot more distance between us and the fortress."

Harry seemed to need no further prodding as he pulled the orange in half and bit into it ravenously. "How long was I out for?" he asked between bites.

"Just a few minutes."

"And how long do we have until Macnair comes back for you?"

"Thirty minutes if we're lucky. I'm giving you five."

Draco stood and looked out through the cave entrance. Had the situation not been so dire, he might have found himself savouring the view. The forest floor was actually in a broad valley of sorts, and the regal mountains of the northern landscape formed a high, jagged horizon. It was beautiful and serene; Draco could recognize that, but it was not nearly enough to calm him.

"From up here, we won't see sunset for well over an hour, but once we're down on the forest floor, it'll get darker earlier," Draco thought aloud, trying to block out his jitters with logic. "Dusk is the best time to travel. It's hard to see people in the shadows and sound doesn't carry as far as it does at night. It'll make it harder for them to track us. Hogwarts is directly south of here, so as long as we keep going generally south, we'll at least be heading in the right direction while we wait for Biddy to bring the Homing Portkey."

Harry's voice came from behind him. "Malfoy, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but exactly how far do we have to go?"

"Well," Draco answered without looking back, "I'd like to cover at least two miles before it gets too dark, because there will be no moonlight to travel by, and obviously we can't use Lumos..."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Draco sighed, and finally turned to look at Harry. "I'm not sure how far, Potter. It depends." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Biddy, come here."

The house-elf scurried to Draco from where she had been sitting, tucked against the cave wall. "Yes sir, Master Malfoy, sir?"

Draco crouched down. "Biddy, Potter and I are going to start moving towards Hogwarts. We have to get as far from here as possible. I need you to keep looking for those pyramids, same as before, except that now when you find them, you have to bring one of them to me and take the other to Hogwarts. Do you understand?"

Instead of answering directly, Biddy stared down at the ground and began twisting the edge of her pillowcase so hard that Harry was quite sure she was going to rip it. "Master Malfoy, sir... Biddy is understanding, sir, but... Biddy is not being able to do this, Master Malfoy, sir."

Draco gaped at Biddy, mouth hanging slightly open in disbelief. "What do you mean, you can't do it?"

Biddy finally looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Master Malfoy, sir. Biddy is wanting to do it, sir... but if Biddy leaves, Biddy will not be able to find Master again, sir."

Draco shook his head once, briefly closing his eyes, not wanting to hear what Biddy was saying. "Can't find me? What do you mean by that?"

Biddy pointed hesitantly at Draco's chest. "The compass, Master Malfoy, sir. The Mislocator. It is not letting Biddy know where Master Malfoy is, sir."

The nerves that Draco had been trying to bury suddenly overflowed into panic. "Don't you tell me you can't find me! You're a house-elf. A house-elf can always find its master! Right?" His voice was beginning to crack.

Biddy took a tiny step backwards, as though fearing that she might be struck. "Master Malfoy, sir... a house-elf is finding its master always with magic. Biddy is not finding Master because Master's Mislocator blocks magic, Master Malfoy, sir."

Draco stared at her for another moment, feeling his heart thundering painfully in his chest, and then he let his head fall forward. "And the second I stop using the Mislocator, You-Know-Who will find us."

He closed his eyes, and a sense of dark inevitability welled up from the pit of his stomach. A long, potentially arduous journey sounded miserable enough. Consider that the most powerful Dark wizard in a century would be chasing them, and then add Harry Potter to the equation; it was sure to be hell. Not that anything could be done to change that, it seemed.

"What does this all mean, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice nervous and thin.

Draco didn't move, but finally replied, "It means, Potter, that we have a very long way to go, and we're going to be completely on our own."

"What were you going to send to Hogwarts?"

"The other half of a two-way Portkey. Like a homing device. Would have taken us right to Dumbledore."

"Oh." Harry paused. "I'd have thought that your father would have taught you to Apparate."

Draco felt a flash of angry embarrassment. "He tried. Splinching incident. Don't you dare ask. And besides, I'm sure you can't Apparate."

"No. But how..."

"Shut up and eat your damned orange, Potter. One thing at a time."

Overstressed and overtired, Draco didn't want to think anymore, and he certainly didn't want to answer questions. They needed to start moving again, not waste more time talking.

"We have to get a message to Dumbledore."

Draco made a noncommittal grunt.

"He has resources, Malfoy. He might be able to get help to us. At the very least, somebody should know where we are. That is, if you really are serious about this. Escaping, that is."

Draco's head shot up, his face burning with furious incredulity. "If I'm serious? IF? Potter, you must have hit your head when you passed out. Think for a second! I just freed You-Know-Who's most valued prisoner, and I left with him! I couldn't change my mind now if I wanted to!"

He paused, considering Harry, who was staring back at him as though stunned, or hurt, by Draco's vehement reaction. Draco felt his breath choke again. "Which I don't," he added softly.

He met Harry's eyes again. "You-Know-Who was planning to kill me tonight, you said? Well, if he wasn't before, he certainly is now. I've only got one way to go, Potter." He jerked his thumb towards the cave entrance. "Damn right, I'm serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy."

Draco's expression didn't change. "Prove it."

Harry opened his mouth as though to speak, but no words came. He quickly closed his mouth again and looked away.

"Forget I said that, Potter," Draco said roughly. "I'm still working on my apology to you anyway. And you were right; we do need to get a message to Dumbledore. Biddy, come back here."

Biddy, who had tried to shrink back into the shadows while Draco was yelling, returned to Draco. "Yes sir, Master Malfoy, sir?"

"Biddy, go to Hogwarts. Find Dumbledore, and tell him everything. Tell him that Potter and I are alive, and travelling towards Hogwarts from the north." He cast a quick glance at Harry. Dumbledore had to know this, but Draco didn't want to upset Harry any more than necessary. The boy was undeniably tough, but even the strongest wizard can only take so much.

Draco crouched down and whispered to Biddy so Harry couldn't hear, "Tell him that You-Know-Who was planning to use the Soul's Eclipse potion on Potter..." Draco swallowed nervously. "...and tell him that You-Know-Who already has Potter's blood."

He stood back up again. "Can you do that?"

First Biddy nodded, then twisted her lips, and began padding her feet on the floor as tears seeped from her eyes.

Draco felt his nerves peak again. "What is it, Biddy?"

"Master Malfoy, sir... if Biddy cannot find Master, then Biddy again belongs to Senior Master Malfoy. Senior Master Malfoy is telling Biddy, before Biddy is yours, that Biddy must not be telling anyone, not even Mistress Malfoy, anything that is happening here, Master Malfoy, sir."

She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

Draco reached down and grasped her by the arms. "Why didn't you tell me this before?! You were ready to go to Dumbledore before! Why not now? WHY?!" Draco shook her once, and the house-elf squeaked in fright.

"Malfoy, let her go!" Harry's voice echoed over Biddy's terrified sobs. "She's doing the best she can!"

Surprised by the suddenness of Harry's command, Draco dropped Biddy. She crumbled to the ground in front of him, cowering at his feet.

"Master Malfoy is telling Biddy before," she sobbed, "only to bring the pyramid to Dumbledore. But now, Master is wanting Biddy to give her family's secrets, and Senior Master Malfoy is ordered Biddy not to do that, sir! Biddy cannot, sir!"

Draco stood up straight and stared back down at her, stunned. No matter what he did, Biddy's enslavement bond wouldn't let her tell Dumbledore, even if she wanted to. Every possible plan of action was being taken from him, and now, he had a terrified, sobbing house-elf at his feet.

"Give her clothes, Malfoy."

"What? Are you mad?" He looked back over his shoulder at Harry.

"No. Just do it. Trust me. She'll -"

"Potter, the instant I release her, she'll have no loyalty to me. She won't do anything I ask..."

Harry shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. Maybe a week ago she would have run and never looked back, but have you heard anything she said?" He chuckled. "She likes you, Malfoy. She's loyal to you now, not just your name."

Draco frowned in confusion. "But why?"

An enigmatic grin spread across Harry's face. "Because you earned it, Malfoy."

Draco tore his eyes from Harry and glanced back down to Biddy. She was still crouched on the ground, but now she was peering back up at Draco hopefully, unshed tears shining in her eyes. Draco blinked once, then spoke hesitantly.

"Biddy... if I freed you, would you still go to Hogwarts... and do what I asked you?"

She nodded emphatically. "Oh, Master Malfoy, yes sir, Master Malfoy, sir! Anything for gracious Master!"

Draco took a deep breath. "You know, this goes against everything I was ever taught. But that seems to be the theme of the day, doesn't it? So why quit now?"

At that, Biddy jumped up and wrapped her arms tightly around Draco's leg, sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, Master Malfoy trusts Biddy! Biddy is a good house-elf! But what will Biddy do without Master? Biddy will not be wanted! But Master trusts Biddy! Oh, Biddy is so happy! Biddy is so sad!"

As soon as Draco recovered from the surprise of having Biddy hug him, he reached down and pried the wailing house-elf from his leg. "Biddy is so confused! Let go of me!"

Biddy quickly released his leg and gazed up at him adoringly, her little hands clasped together under her chin. "Will Master take Biddy back when he returns? Oh please, Master Malfoy, sir? Biddy is not wanting to be abandoned, Master Malfoy, sir..."

"Yes, all right? Yes. Great. Wonderful." Draco looked down at his own clothes, realizing he didn't have any extras. "Potter, what do I give her?"

Harry snickered. "Have any spare socks?"

*********

"My toes are cold."

Draco was grumbling to himself as they carefully picked their way down the steep rocks below the cave entrance, causing Harry to smirk in amusement. Draco quietly considered all the possible ways of obtaining a sock while journeying through the woods and came up with a total of one option: transfigure something. This only led Draco to mentally curse himself for not paying better attention in McGonagall's classes. There'd been a whole month in fourth year devoted to small clothing articles, but after accidentally turning a love bird into a pair of bright green boxers with pink hearts adorning them, in front of the whole class, he'd become completely disgusted with the whole unit of study, and had put it out of his mind as soon as possible. So, he resumed his preferred method of dealing with a problem. Complaining about it. Incessantly.

"My toes are cold, and my shoes are wet, and I think I'm getting a blister."

Harry snickered. "I'll give you a foot-warming charm when we next stop."

Draco hid his grin. At least his antics were keeping Harry going. "Got an answer for everything, haven't you?"

Harry finally chuckled aloud. "Not really. I just pretend, and hope people believe the act. How am I doing so far?"

Draco was still trying to think of a smart answer when Harry's precarious sense of balance failed and he began to fall forwards from the rock face. Draco, who had been climbing below him for just that reason, quickly caught Harry by his shoulders and helped him regain his footing.

"You're doing about as well as your sense of balance. What does that tell you?"

"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry mumbled as he found his centre of gravity and resumed his descent.

"Don't mention it. At all. In fact, if I have to catch you one more time, I might just be tempted to knock you out and levitate you the rest of the way down."

Harry glared at him, and Draco laughed. "Relax, Potter. If I was going to do that, I would have done it while you were unconscious the first time around."

"I'll bet you would have loved that."

"It would have been entertaining."

Harry growled as his foot almost slipped again. "Then why didn't you?" he asked sardonically.

Draco looked away. "Er... honestly?"

"That would be a good start."

"Because my Levitation Charms really are terrible."

"Well, you managed the teacup, didn't you?"

Draco stopped short, pulled out his wand, and waggled it at Harry threateningly. "Do you want me to test it on you?"

Harry eyed the wand nervously. "Er... let's just keep climbing, all right?"

Draco sniggered and slipped the wand back into his pocket. "Thought so." He glanced down. "Besides, we're almost there. It's not as far as it looked from the top."

A few gruelling minutes later, they'd cleared the rock face and ducked through the dense foliage at the edge of the forest. Although there was still over an hour until the actual sunset, the high hills edging the valley cast the forest in grey shadows. Instead of pausing, Draco immediately grabbed Harry around the shoulders again and they began a headlong dash into the woods.

If the slick rocks of the fortress tunnels had been bad to walk through, the brush and brambles of the forest floor were worse. Draco cracked his shins against too many unseen obstacles to count, and branches whipped against his face. He brought up his arm to push the offending boughs out of the way for both himself and Harry, but was only partially successful. His muscles ached from exertion, and his breath was becoming ragged in his chest. Next to him, Harry was struggling even harder. Still, they couldn't slow down. By Draco's reckoning, they had five minutes at the very most before Macnair came looking for them. Maybe five minutes after that before Voldemort began a furious hunt for his two escapees.

Finally, as they crashed through a small clearing, Harry pulled Draco to a halt. "Stop.... Can't... breathe... Malfoy." Harry stumbled to the nearest tree trunk, leaned his back against it, and slid to the ground, gasping for breath.

Draco walked stiffly to Harry and leaned sideways against the same tree, trying to catch his own breath. "Don't sit, Potter. You'll throw up... or pass out."

Harry leaned his head back and closed his eyes, speaking in bursts between shallow breaths. "I haven't eaten.... enough... to throw up... and if I stand up... I'll pass out."

"Well, you're going to have to get up in a minute. We're running out of time here."

Harry opened his eyes again and looked up at Draco. "I thought that... your Mislocator...?"

"Will only prevent magical tracking, Potter. We're not invisible, in case you hadn't noticed. If a search party stumbles right on top of us...."

Harry nodded, then sat still for a few seconds until his ragged breathing slowed.

Beneath his robes, Draco subtly reached down and reassured himself by patting the sack Biddy had given him. He had brought something else in case of a close call with the Death Eaters, but it was a last resort; using it while travelling would be terribly awkward, and would slow them down far too much. It would have to wait. Without another word, Draco reached into his pocket for the empty flask. A quick spell refilled it with water. He handed it to Harry, who silently accepted it and drank the entire contents, before handing it back.

With a sudden lurch, Harry turned himself over on to his hands and knees. Then, using the tree for balance, he pulled himself to his feet. "Well, what are we waiting for, Malfoy?"

Draco couldn't suppress his smile at Harry's stubborn determination. "Think you can walk on your own yet? Even eight stone soaking wet gets heavy after a while," he said lightly.

Harry removed his hand from the tree trunk. "Absolutely," he said, an instant before he stumbled and had to catch himself with the tree trunk again.

"You were saying?" Draco folded his arms.

Looking extremely affronted, Harry set his face determinedly and started walking unsteadily towards the far side of the clearing, deeper into the woods.

Draco shook his head in disbelief and quickly ran up alongside Harry, catching the boy's elbow. "What's this, Potter? Stubborn to the point of stupidity?"

Harry quickly pulled his arm away. "I prefer to think of it as Gryffindor pride."

"Same thing."

For a moment, Harry glowered at Draco, but it seemed he was too tired to remain even that contrary. Particularly as he was teetering on his feet even while standing still. Draco caught his elbow again.

"Come on, Potter. If it helps, I won't mention any of this when we get back to Hogwarts."

Harry stared at him obstinately for a moment, but then his expression shifted from one of stubbornness to exhaustion. He leaned his weight carefully against Draco's arm without another word of complaint.

Perhaps because Harry was trying so hard to appear tough, the ease with which he allowed himself to be helped only caused Draco more concern. He had to be in a miserable state to permit this much physical contact. As powerful as Harry was, and as awed as Draco had been by Harry's strength against Voldemort, the boy was so terribly weakened now, and Draco found himself feeling disconcertingly protective. True, he had taken on responsibility for Harry, and he had sworn to uphold that. But regardless, it was still a very odd feeling.

Despite his decision - and he was definitely committed to his choice - years of enmity had left their mark. Not only for Draco, but also for Harry. In the brief time since they'd left the dungeons, Harry's body language, his tone, and even the way he looked at Draco all told the same story. Harry still didn't trust him.

"Ready?" Draco asked.

Without looking at him, Harry nodded, remaining silent.

Gryffindors, Draco thought ruefully as they set out into the woods again, more slowly this time. However they hadn't been walking for even a minute when Harry suddenly stumbled, gasping sharply.

"Potter, we really can't stop yet..."

Draco looked down, but instead of seeing Harry going faint, the boy was clutching his scar tightly, teeth gritted and bared.

"Potter?!"

Harry collapsed to the ground with a strangled cry, dragging Draco part way down with him. As Draco tried to untangle himself, Harry began to thrash violently, moaning, kicking up leaves and dirt from the forest floor, his hands still clasped to his forehead. For a moment, Draco was too stunned by the abruptness of the incident to react, but a particularly pained yell from Harry spurred him into action. He grabbed at Harry's arms, trying to stop the boy from hurting himself, but with surprising strength, Harry wrenched away, still screaming.

"NO!"

Draco lost his balance and fell backwards as Harry rolled onto his side and curled up on himself, feet still kicking.

"NO! He knows... ARGH! He's coming... find us..."

Draco scrambled back over to Harry and grasped him firmly around the chest, pinning his arms to his sides, before hauling the writhing boy halfway into his lap.

"Potter, be quiet! They'll hear you a mile away!"

Harry continued to struggle in Draco's arms, but Draco could tell he was tiring quickly. Harry's eyes were squeezed shut as he whimpered, his voice ragged, "He's furious... coming... have to get... out of here. Scar... it hurts..."

Draco reached up and pushed back Harry's fringe. The familiar scar stood out starkly against Harry's pale skin, and Draco winced at the sight of it. Without thinking, he quickly covered the scar with the palm of his hand, and pressed down. The effect was instantaneous. Harry's body went limp against Draco's legs, and he gulped in deep breaths of air. His eyes reopened, and he stared up at Draco as though he hadn't realized the other boy was there.

Squinting, he met Draco's concerned gaze through the shadows. "Draco?" he asked weakly.

Not removing his left hand from Harry's forehead, Draco reached up with his right and adjusted Harry's glasses, which had been knocked askew while Harry had thrashed. Draco forced a faint smile. "I guess You-Know-Who knows we left."

"Yeah," Harry whispered, then winced. "Ouch."

Reflexively, Draco pulled his hand away from Harry's forehead, thinking it was the pressure of his touch hurting the boy, but his actions only caused Harry to bite down on his lower lip, hissing in pain.

Draco started in surprise. "What? Did I hurt you?"

Harry opened his mouth, but suddenly turned his head away and muttered something inaudible.

"What's that, Potter?"

"Your hand was cool."

Draco stared at the back of Harry's head, not knowing quite how to react, until Harry slowly rolled away from him.

"We need to go," Harry said flatly, as he pushed himself to his knees. "We're not far enough away from the fortress. Voldemort just killed Macnair. If he gets his way, you'll be next."

He staggered to his feet, grasped a handy tree branch for support, and rubbed at his scar. "Besides, the closer I am to him, the more this bloody thing hurts."

Draco glanced down at his left hand, the one that he'd pressed over Harry's forehead. On his palm was a faint smudge of blood in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Malfoy, are you going to sit there and wait for them?"

"No," Draco said quietly. He clenched his hand into a fist, closing his fingers tightly over the smear of blood. "Let's go."

Again, Harry took off ahead of him, walking shakily, but Draco quickly caught up with him, wordlessly taking Harry's elbow. Harry didn't pull his arm away, and his stride did steady with Draco taking some of his weight, but he did nothing else to acknowledge the Draco's support.

*********

For almost an hour, by Harry's rough estimate, they moved steadily through the darkening forest. Through the dense canopy they caught glimpses of the sky as it faded from pale blue, to grey, to ultramarine. Occasionally, Harry would stumble and Draco would catch him, or Harry would hiss in pain and rub his scar, but not a word passed between them. When Harry tripped over yet another unseen branch in the darkness, falling to his bruised knees again, he was almost surprised when Draco collapsed to the ground next to him.

Draco rolled onto his back and took a deep breath. "Even Gryffindor stupidity is no match for pitch darkness. We can't go any further tonight, Potter."

Seizing the opportunity, Harry willingly flopped backwards onto the forest floor. As grateful as he was for the sensation of solid ground beneath his back, he was still nervous. "Do you think... we've gone far enough?"

Next to him, Draco made a noncommittal noise. "It'll have to be far enough. It's too dark to travel, and you're on the verge of complete physical collapse."

Although Harry knew the second point was far too true, he still couldn't stand hearing Malfoy mention his current weakness. "I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Really, now?"

Before Harry realized what was happening, Draco had grasped his wrist, his fingers wrapping around Harry's pulse point.

"Your heart is racing, your breathing is shallow, and it's a wonder you're still conscious."

Taken aback by the sudden invasive movement, Harry wrenched his arm away. "What are you now? A bloody Mediwizard?"

"Potter," Draco said quietly, "It doesn't take a Mediwizard to know how close you came to dying."

Harry froze, caught off-guard by the sincerity in Draco's voice. "So?" he asked edgily. He still couldn't help but feel uneasy with the apparent change in Draco's loyalties. It was too sudden.

"So... I didn't risk my neck to get you out of there, only to let you die now." Draco fell silent again. Harry could feel the tension radiating off Draco, mirroring his own.

Even if he could ignore the strain of his scar burning with a constant dull ache, and having Voldemort on a furious manhunt for him, and being marooned in the woods miles from safety; Harry was still having one of the most traumatic days of his life. Draco Malfoy, in voluntary physical contact with him, swinging fists not included. Draco Malfoy, helping him to escape from Voldemort. Draco Malfoy, staring at him with concern and anxiety as Voldemort's wrath manifested itself in the searing pain of his scar. He couldn't deny that something had changed, but Harry wasn't quite sure he trusted that change yet. More specifically, he still couldn't instinctively trust a Malfoy. Five years of enmity wasn't so easy to dismiss, even in such extreme circumstances. It was nerve-racking, to say the least, to have to try.

As if in response to Harry's unvoiced doubts, Draco spoke again, his voice a rough whisper.

"I told you I was sorry. I've never said that to anyone before, Potter. Nobody."

Harry craned his neck sideways to look at Draco. The young man was staring straight upwards, giving Harry a profile view of his face, faintly illuminated by the last traces of daylight. He looked so painfully sincere, all traces of joviality and mockery gone. Harry looked away, turning his attention back to the few stars showing through the tree canopy as Draco began to speak again.

"I watched you, all that time we were in the dungeons. You know I did. Not much entertainment down there. I was so sure you were going to break. I wanted to see you break, but it never happened. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I was impressed. Then you went spouting off with those sanctimonious lectures. The more I thought about it, the more I figured you were just trying to manipulate me. Maybe you were, but you were right about everything. God, I hate admitting that."

Harry could only listen, stunned by this sudden apparent openness. It was true; he had been trying to manipulate Draco, his captor and jailor. Draco was, after all, his only potential means of escape. That had been his goal at first, his only goal. He wasn't sure when Draco had become something more than merely a means to an end - alarmingly human - but looking back, the idea of manipulation seemed offensive, somehow. He hadn't realized Draco would become so fully aware of it. The thought made him feel guilty.

Draco sniffed once, and then coughed.

"I swore that if we got out, I'd tell you why I used the Cruciatus," Draco said thickly. "I've had days to think about what I wanted to say, so I guess now is the time to say it.

"I had to use the curse, Potter. If you'd stopped to think about it for two seconds, you would have realized that. If I'd refused, my father... my... they would have suspected I'd become disloyal. I would have been removed from my guard post. I would have been punished, and you'd still be in that cell, bleeding."

He paused, and Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him. Slowly, Harry nodded.

"You said you knew how the Unforgivable Curses work. That you have to really want to cause the damage; to want to hurt someone. Well, that's where you're right. What you didn't know was that I wasn't thinking about you when I cast the curse. I had to think about You-Know-Who to make myself angry enough to do it." Draco's careful monologue faltered, and he coughed again, as though trying to dislodge the emotion which was choking him. "But I didn't want to do it, Potter, not after... after everything you'd said, and... what You-Know-Who had said... and what he'd done. Not that time. I almost couldn't do it, but if I hadn't... well... consider the consequences. For both of us."

Draco's voice dropped to a whisper. "I heard you scream, Potter. And I know why you did. It was my fault. For the past three days... whenever it got too quiet, I could hear that sound. I can still hear it. You don't know what it did to me, hearing that. I hope you never hear a scream like that, Potter. But then I hope I never have to hear it again, either."

Draco broke off again, leaving nothing but the sounds of the light wind rustling the trees. Harry stared into the darkness, and blinked once. His eyes hurt, but he wasn't crying. Draco had tried to apologize days before, but Harry hadn't wanted to believe it. Sure, it made sense, in a technical sort of way, but how the hell was he supposed to believe someone who had just tortured him? At the time, he couldn't. But here, miles away from the cold dungeon, there was no way he could deny it.

"I... I understand."

Draco made a nondescript sound in his throat in acknowledgement. "I'm glad, because I don't know if I'd be able to carry that sort of burden, and you. Both are pretty heavy."

Harry felt the corner of his mouth pull up into an involuntary smile. "I thought I wasn't eight stone soaking wet?"

Draco snorted a short laugh. "Okay, so I lied." His voice became serious again. "I promise you though... no matter what it takes... I'm going to do everything I possibly can to get you back to Hogwarts."

That statement was like a splash of icy water, washing away all thoughts of the Cruciatus incident, and bringing him sharply to the present situation, causing his breath to catch in his chest along the way. He sat up and glanced sideways, and saw that Draco was also sitting up, staring back at him through the fading light, sincerity burning brightly in his eyes. Harry looked away and stared down at his lap; he barely knew what to make of Draco's bold promise. It wasn't something that could be taken lightly; not where they were, alone, miles from help. In Harry's exhaustion, coherent thought was just beyond his reach, swirling around with the nebulous threads of distrust that clung to his mind like spider webs. He searched for something to say, but Draco apparently wasn't finished.

"I have something for you, Potter." There was the sound of rustling fabric as Draco spoke. "I never should have had this in the first place, but I thought it would make a nice prize at the time, so before I left the Hogwarts dungeons with you, I turned around and grabbed it. But it's yours."

A poorly folded pile of silvery cloth was placed on Harry's lap. It flowed as it settled against him, shining oddly. Harry's throat choked up and he was immediately grateful that the shadows would hide the wetness welling up in his eyes, as he ran his hand across the surface of his father's old Invisibility Cloak. Slowly, reverently, he scooped up the cloth and pressed it against his face; in part, because he couldn't quite believe he had it back, but also to cover the fact that he was on the edge of an emotional flood.

The cloak was wonderful and familiar; the soft, surreal cloth and the faint, musty smell it carried from being stored for so long in his school trunk. He stayed still, hunched over, breathing through the cloak and trying not to let himself shake.

"I figured," Draco said hesitantly, "that it might come in handy... while we're travelling to Hogwarts. In case... you know."

Harry took a long slow breath before letting the cloak fall away from his face. "Thank you."

They sat there in silence for a moment, until Draco broke the standstill.

"Well, if I'm going to make sure you arrive back at Hogwarts alive, then first things first. You need to regain enough strength to travel, because there's no way in hell that I'm carrying your eight-stone-one-soaking-wet carcass all the way back to Hogwarts." He sat up and looked down at Harry, and Harry could only just discern the smirk on his face through the shadows.

Harry rolled his eyes. Trust Draco Malfoy to break out of a possible emotional overload with a sarcastic quip. "For your information, I weigh nine stone four."

"Maybe you did, but not right now you don't. So sit up, Potter. Suppertime. I'm sure Biddy has packed us a lovely assortment of survival rations."

Harry grinned and set aside the cloak. What better way to begin a treacherous journey than with a snack, anyway? "Sounds good to me. What have you got in there? Fruit?"

Draco rummaged through the small sack Biddy had provided, which apparently was much deeper than it appeared, as Draco's arm disappeared up to his shoulder when he reached into it. "Apples, oranges, bananas, kiwi, quince, mangos, and I think that sharp thing is a pineapple."

Harry chuckled as he slid sideways to lean against a large fallen log. "An apple sounds good. Sandwiches?"

Harry could barely see what Draco was doing as he scuffled through his robes and the sack, but Draco suddenly whispered, "Lumos," and the tip of his wand glowed faintly from inside the sack. Draco peered in, his face illuminated delicately. "Turkey, roast beef, corned beef - gross, chicken -"

"You hate corned beef?"

Draco wrinkled up his nose. "Naturally. It's disgusting. Why do you care?"

"Oh, Ron hates corned beef too," Harry mused vaguely. "His mother packs him corned beef sandwiches for the Hogwarts Express, and he never eats them." Harry's thoughts drifted to Ron and the Burrow and the Hogwarts Express, and he felt a surge of homesickness. "I miss him, and Hermione. They're probably worried sick. I hope Biddy gets to Dumbledore with the message..."

Draco interrupted Harry's musings by conspicuously clearing his throat. "Turkey? Roast beef? Swift boot to the head?"

"What?" Harry looked up at Draco in confusion.

"We were discussing supper, not the Weasel, er, Weasley," Draco said brusquely.

"Oh." Harry held up short at the strange tone in Draco's voice. He sounded irritated. "Er, turkey would be nice. Biddy seems to have packed everything."

"Yeah, Potter," Draco grumbled as he handed Harry the food, then glanced back into the bag. "Everything but a fresh pair of socks."

*********

Draco didn't stop pestering Harry to eat until the boy had finished off an apple, two turkey sandwiches and three flasks of water. While he was eating, Draco made use of a quick Drying Charm on his and Harry's clothes, then a Cleaning Charm for good measure, all the while keeping a cautious ear to the sounds of the forest. It was his only distraction from Harry's homesick musings about Hogwarts, Quidditch and Ron and Hermione. Normally, mention of the Weasel and the Mudblood would make Draco furious. Now - well, it still made him furious, but it was a different sort of heated irritation.

Up until this point, Draco had only considered the need to get away from Voldemort. In his rush to get away, he'd never considered what he was running to. Hearing Harry talk about his friends - it hit Draco in a very uncomfortable way. Not that he gave a damn about the Weasel's sandwich preferences under any circumstances, and normally, mention of Weasley would bring to mind furious memories of the previous year's Quidditch season. But this time, hearing about Weasley didn't bother him in quite the same way.

Draco had never really kept any close friends; they were a liability. Crabbe and Goyle were almost friends by default. Sure, he missed them. Having two hulking minions was a very pleasant thing indeed. They would have been particularly convenient on this journey, in fact, potentially as pack animals. But Crabbe and Goyle would know of Draco's defection long before he'd reach Hogwarts. It was more than likely that he'd be turned into their next punching bag upon his arrival. And then, if he somehow managed to avoid Crabbe and Goyle's fists, to whom would he turn? And what would he be expected to do? Join Dumbledore's little band of do-gooders?

Fuck that, he thought ruefully. No, he wanted to be as far away from all this as possible. He wanted never to go anywhere near Voldemort, and that included fighting against him.

Maybe Dumbledore would just give Draco a place to hide. He'd be bringing Harry back, safe and sound. Granted, he'd kidnapped the boy in the first place, but bringing him home, especially at such a great risk, should be enough to clear that debt, and hopefully merit him some sort of sanctuary. That sounded reasonable. Voldemort would be after Draco as much as Potter after all this. Dumbledore would surely be willing to protect him too.

But then, Dumbledore hadn't even been able to protect Harry from Draco.

Draco glanced up at Harry to find that the boy's head was drooped forward, apparently asleep. Smiling slightly to himself, Draco crawled over to where Harry was propped up against the log. Up close, he could hear Harry snoring softly. Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gently shook him.

"Hey, Potter..."

In a heartbeat, Harry jerked awake, and something hard and crumbly collided with the side of Draco's face.

"What?! Who? Malfoy! You startled me!"

"No kidding, Potter," Draco snapped, trying to keep his tone hushed. "And don't talk so loudly. We're hiding, remember? And what did you just hit me with?"

Harry glanced down at his empty hand. "Oh, that's what happened to the rest of my biscuit."

Draco blew out a breath in exasperation as he brushed the crumbs from his cheek. "Well, Potter, if I can trust you not to throw any more half-eaten food at me, I was going to suggest you lie down to sleep. You'll sleep better, but also, you'll keep a lower profile."

"Lower profile?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "So that potential search parties are less likely to trip over us... which is also why we're speaking softly..."

"Oh."

"And which is also why I thought to bring the Invisibility Cloak."

"Oh."

Draco smiled into the semi-darkness. "Potter, it's a wonder you've survived for so long, considering your occasional gaps in common sense."

"Hey, I'm a bit tired here. Besides, I've survived this long without your expert guidance."

"Point. Now use what common sense you claim to have, lie down, and get some sleep. You'll need it, because tomorrow we have a lot of ground to cover."

Draco saw Harry's outline move, and heard the leaves rustle as the boy settled himself.

"What about you?" Harry asked through a deep yawn.

Draco sighed. "Well, someone needs to keep a lookout, Potter. Besides, I couldn't sleep now if I wanted to."

"Mmm-hmm..."

Draco watched as Harry's shadowy outline disappeared under a swirl of silvery cloth, and then even that disappeared into the shadows. He sat still, listening to Harry's breathing until it slowed and he was sure the boy was asleep. Without taking his eyes off the spot where Harry had disappeared, he moved carefully around and settled himself against the fallen log. After a moment, there was a rustling of leaves - Harry must have rolled onto his side - and the cloak fell away from his face. For several long minutes, Draco sat watching Harry in the dim light; the shadows around his eyes, the dark bruise on his right cheek, the slight parting of his lips as he breathed.

Draco suddenly realized he was staring. Leaning forward, he delicately caught the edge of the thin cloth and pulled it back up over Harry's face, and again, Harry disappeared from view. Draco sat back against the log, but continued to stare at the apparently empty space where Harry's face had been. Sitting there, feeling the cold ground beneath him, hearing the rustle of the light breeze through the trees and the soft sound of Harry's breathing, the full reality of the situation finally hit him. He and Harry were completely alone, with over a hundred miles of unpredictable terrain between themselves and safety.

And only two weeks in which to cover that distance.

Draco was painfully aware of the fact that Voldemort still had Harry's blood, and the truth of the matter was that he no longer needed Harry in order to kill the boy. Draco had reviewed the spell again and again in his head, but nowhere could he recall a requirement for the victim to be present. And neither could he recall a specific formula for a counter-curse. Sure, he'd looked over the section on counter-curses, in his boredom, but all it contained was theory, not procedures. In a classroom, he might have a chance of interpreting it and creating a counter-curse or an antidote, but out here, he didn't even have the basic ingredients.

No, if Harry was to survive, they needed to get to Hogwarts before the eclipse. Snape and Dumbledore would find a counter-curse. They had to. Otherwise, in two weeks, Voldemort would use the potion, and wherever Harry was at the time, he would die, and there would be nothing Draco could do to stop it.

After everything Harry had gone through, after giving him hope with the escape, Draco didn't have the heart to tell Harry that his life was still in danger. He'd promised Harry that he'd do everything he could to get him back to Hogwarts. Silently, he'd included "alive and well" with that promise. Draco just wasn't sure if promises would be enough.

Two weeks from new moon to full moon.

Fourteen days.

Draco felt around on the ground next to him until his fingers found a length of broken stick. He picked it up and snapped off the ends, leaving a piece just a bit shorter and thicker than his wand. Then he withdrew his dagger from its sheath on his belt. With one deft, careful motion, he cut into the wood at a deep angle. Another swift cut, and a clean, white notch was visible against the bark of the stick.

Day one.

Draco carefully tucked the stick into his pocket, alongside his wand. With a sigh, he leaned back again and tipped his head back, watching the black silhouette of the leaves against the brilliant stars and indigo sky overhead. Soon, all thoughts drifted to the back of his mind, and there was only the moonless sky, the rustling leaves, the cold log against his back, and the soft sound of Harry's snoring.

But Harry wasn't snoring. In fact, Draco could just make out the faint sound of teeth chattering. He leaned forward.

"Potter?"

He felt around and found the invisible shape of Harry's head, then quickly pulled back the Invisibility Cloak from Harry's face. Up close, Draco could see Harry's lips trembling slightly, shivering. "Potter, are you awake?"

When Harry didn't reply, Draco felt another surge of worry wash through him. He pulled the cloak away, reached down, and gripped Harry's hand; it was ice cold. Whereas Draco had been wearing a proper set of autumn wizard's robes when they'd left, Harry only had the clothes he was wearing the night Draco had caught him. Blue jeans, a t-shirt, an old red jumper, and the thin Invisibility Cloak. Not nearly enough to guard against the chill of a September night in northern Scotland.

"Potter!" Draco grabbed Harry's shoulder, rolled him onto his back, and shook him. "Wake up! You're too cold. You have to move around."

Harry moaned softly and rolled back onto his side, but showed no signs of waking. Draco didn't know if Harry's lethargy was from complete exhaustion, or because Harry had become dangerously cold, or even if the one was related to the other; he was no Mediwizard, as Harry had pointed out. Still, he knew that not being able to rouse a person was never a good sign.

He thought of using a warming charm, but quickly dismissed the notion. Half the time, his warming charms set things on fire.

Fire! That was it. He'd just light a fire. His wand was already out before he realized just how idiotic that idea was. A search party would see the light or smell the smoke from a mile away. And then there was always the possibility of setting the underbrush ablaze.

Draco rested a hand on Harry's shoulder again. The boy seemed to be shivering less, and somehow Draco was sure that wasn't a good sign. He hesitated, but realized that under the circumstances there was only one thing he could do. Grasping the edge of his own cloak, Draco pulled it up and over Harry, covering him up to the chin. The Invisibility Cloak followed, completely shrouding both of them. Using his warm cloak as a blanket, Draco lay down on his side behind Harry. If body heat was all he had, then that was what he would use.

He quickly squashed the severe feelings of self-consciousness as he tucked himself against Harry's back. This was not the time to be squeamish. It was a necessary survival move, nothing more. And Draco had made a promise.

As soon as he pressed up against Harry, he felt Harry's weak shivering through his own shirt, but absolutely no warmth radiating from the boy. Feeling a nearly painful wave of anxiety, Draco steeled his resolve. He reached over, wrapped his arm across Harry's chest, and pulled Harry tight against him.

Harry's thin form was tense and frail under Draco's grasp. For all Harry's strength and determination, the boy felt so small against Draco, as though he could break with too much pressure. Draco knew better, of course. He'd seen Harry in action, but it was so hard to equate the famous, scarred hero who'd struggled and fought and defied the Dark Lord, with the thin, shivering boy tucked under his arm.

But Draco had made a promise. He would bring Harry back to Hogwarts, alive and well; that was his sworn obligation.

"I promised you," Draco whispered, although he wasn't sure if Harry could hear him, not that he cared at that point. "Whatever it takes."

His breath hitched as reality dug its claws into his chest. Bringing Harry back alive might take more than Draco could give. Draco had Harry, but Voldemort still had Harry's blood. To keep Harry alive would require Draco to engage in a tugging match against the most powerful Dark wizard of the age. That would be a battle Draco wasn't sure he had the strength to win, but it was also one that he refused to lose.

Besides, without Harry, Draco would be completely alone. That thought terrified him.

Impulsively, Draco's arm tightened around Harry, pulling the boy closer against him, as though trying to lend Harry strength as well as warmth. He could almost feel the energy flowing, tingling faintly. Draco closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the back of Harry's neck. The contact was strange and foreign, but not altogether unwelcome, and he felt another surge of protectiveness.

Gradually, Harry stopped shivering and his body relaxed against Draco. The sound of soft snoring soon followed. Although he'd intended to stay awake and listen for danger, the rhythm of Harry's breathing and the warmth radiating between them began to make him drowsy. It had been so long since he'd really slept. He yawned and pulled his cloak up to his chin. As he drifted towards sleep, he whispered softly again in Harry's ear.

"Whatever it takes."

*******

Remember everything I told you.

Keep it in your heart, like a stone.

And when the winds have blown things 'round and back again,

What was once your pain will be your home.

All around the table, white haired men have gathered,

Spilling their sons' blood like table wine.

Remember everything I told you.

Everything in its own time.

(~Indigo Girls)

******

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