Eclipse

Chapter 9

The Hunted

Harry woke slowly from a most peculiar dream. Voldemort was chasing him, but instead of throwing curses, Voldemort was throwing rocks and charming branches to try to trip him up. His scar was stinging viciously, and he couldn't see properly. Finally a branch hit him hard on the knee, and his legs went out from underneath him.

He could hear Voldemort laughing triumphantly as he fell, but he never hit the ground, because Draco caught him and held him tightly. Draco's arms were wrapped reassuringly around him, giving comfort. Harry felt some strength return, flowing from Draco, but then Voldemort screamed in fury and Harry's scar seared with pain.

Harry saw Voldemort reach towards him, a skeletal hand grasping at some unseen object hovering in the air between them. The claw-like fingers closed around invisible prey, and Voldemort pulled. Harry felt his heart being ripped from his chest, as though Voldemort had actually reached through his ribcage. The pain was stifling, and he couldn't breathe, much less scream. Then suddenly, Draco's hands folded tightly across Harry's chest, and the pain stopped. Harry slumped backwards into Draco's arms, dazed.

Over Voldemort's enraged howls, Draco's voice rang in Harry's ear. "You can't have him! I'm stronger, and I'm not letting go! You hear me? I'm not letting you take him! Hold on, Harry! Harry..."

"Harry...? Psst! Harry! Whatever you do... don't move."

A voice was whispering right next to Harry's ear, and he felt a surge of panic and disorientation. His eyes snapped open, but he saw nothing except the faintest of shadows; it was still night. He was lying on his back on the forest floor, and as wakefulness came to him fully, he remembered why he was there.

A warm body was lying surprisingly close to his. "Malfoy?"

"Shh!"

Harry felt a pressure on his chest and noticed with a start that Draco's hand was there, holding him down. He was about to ask what was going on, when he realized they were both underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

"Don't move, and keep quiet, Potter, but look up."

Understanding that this was no joke, Harry strained his eyes to look through the breaks in the leaves overhead. The sky was just slightly lighter than the pitch-darkness of night, but aside from that, there was nothing to see. He was just about to demand an explanation when a bright light flashed overhead, like a search lamp.

"He's flying patrols," Draco whispered nervously. "I should have realized this before. They'll patrol until it gets light enough. Then they'll start tracking us on foot."

A sinking thought hit Harry. "The way we crashed through the woods... A blind man could follow that trail."

Harry sensed Draco's nod. "I just thought of that. First though, they'd have to find the start of our little trail. It took Biddy almost two days to find our escape route, and I doubt You-Know-Who has spent much time in the dungeons. That might give us a small head start."

"I hope you're right. But, er... Malfoy?"

"Mmm?"

"Can you get your hand off my chest?"

Draco immediately removed his hand. "Oh... sorry." He sounded excessively embarrassed, quickly changing the subject. "We need to start moving again, Potter. Carefully. And without leaving a trail."

Harry thought it over. "That's a fine thought, Malfoy, but it won't work."

"Why not?"

Harry didn't miss the slight cracking of Draco's voice. He grimaced. "Dogs. Voldemort will use dogs to sniff us out."

"Sniff us out?" Draco asked incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

"You mean... wizards don't have hunting dogs? Bloodhounds? To sniff out prey?"

"We have Crups, and some wizards keep Muggle dogs, but why on earth would you use them for such a ridiculous purpose when you can trace someone with ma... oh shit." Draco's voice started to tremble. "But... I've never heard of dogs being used like that. Why would You-Know-Who -"

"Maybe you haven't heard of hunting dogs, but Voldemort has. He was raised by Muggles."

For a long moment, Draco was silent, and then he asked very quietly, "What?"

"Voldemort was raised by... surely you knew?"

"Knew what?"

Another flash of a spotlight flooded the area. Despite the Invisibility Cloak, Harry instinctively tucked his head against the ground and covered his face with his arm. Draco flung his arm protectively across Harry's chest, pressing him down. They froze like that, and Harry felt nothing but the pounding of his heart. The light finally passed, and Harry released the breath he'd been holding.

And noticed Draco.

"Er, Malfoy? Hand again?"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Harry turned towards Draco, barely able to see the outlines of his face through the shadows. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Draco seemed to be shaking.

"What were you saying, Harry? About You-Know-Who?" Draco asked softly.

Harry shook his head. "Malfoy, we really need to talk. Later. Right now, we have to move."

"But the dogs!"

"We need to move!" Harry repeated firmly. "And we need to find a river."

"River?" Draco sounded terribly confused.

"Dogs can't track a scent through water." Harry couldn't suppress his private smirk. "God, Malfoy. You have some serious gaps in your common sense. It's a wonder you're still alive."

"Shut up, Potter. How do we find a river?"

Harry's grin became wider. "Remember Charms class, third year? Using your wand as a dowsing rod?"

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry chuckled softly. "So, do we move with the Invisibility Cloak, or do we take a risk and hope they don't see us?"

Draco sighed deeply. "It'll be hard enough to move in the dark without the cloak; the cloak will do nothing but trip us up, and you're right, we need to move."

"True," Harry agreed. "Which means we're going to need some sort of camouflage."

"Any brilliant ideas?" Draco asked, just a bit sarcastically.

"Well..." Harry slowly sat up, careful not to disrupt the Invisibility Cloak. In reality, he didn't have any ideas. He'd seen enough of Dudley's adventure films to know that anyone trying to hide in the woods needed camouflage. He glanced around out of nervous habit, but there was nothing to be seen, except the vague outline of Draco's face staring back at him.

"I wish I knew the Disillusionment Charm!" Harry slammed his fist onto the ground in frustration. And stopped short. He dug his fingers through the leaves covering the forest floor, feeling the soft, moist dirt underneath. A grin slowly spread across his face. "Wait, I've got an idea."

"Oh?" Draco asked hopefully.

Harry smirked deviously to himself in the darkness as he scooped up a handful of dirt. "Malfoy, I've been wanting to try this again since third year."

*********

"I hate you, Potter," Draco hissed under his breath. "I hate you with the passion of a thousand burning suns."

"You're welcome, Malfoy," Harry whispered back, pleasantly.

In truth, Harry had just as much dirt on his own face as Draco did, possibly more. Still, it was well worth the sacrifice. Camouflage and stealth aside, Harry had dearly relished every moment of smearing dirt through Draco's hair and across his face, while Draco whined pitifully. The Invisibility Cloak had been shrunk and stuffed into the sack alongside Draco's regular cloak to make travel easier. With a quick charm to turn their clothes black, they were off. Harry led the way, using his wand as a dowsing rod.

"I'm going to get you for this, Potter."

"Sure, Malfoy."

Harry didn't mind listening to Draco's random threats. He could tell exactly how nervous Draco actually was, and if complaining made Draco more comfortable, then that was fine with Harry. A scared Draco wasn't something Harry felt he could deal with anyway. An argumentative Draco on the other hand was something familiar; he could handle that.

As they travelled, the grey light of morning slowly spread across the sky, bringing with it a low fog. It shrouded the forest in a strange, unearthly stillness, muffling the boys' footsteps and the rustling of leaves. Conversation ceased, and the boys watched and listened for any sign of pursuit. Searchlights did pass overhead once, but a quick dive under some bushes had seemed to hide them well enough, and there were no indications that the searcher had noticed them.

Finally, the sound of rushing water pierced through the fog, and the boys emerged on the bank of a shallow, rapid river.

"Well, this is wonderful," Draco muttered.

"What is?"

"Which way do we travel, oh clever-as-they-come Gryffindor?"

"Downstream," Harry said confidently.

Draco folded his arms across his chest. "And just how do you know that?"

"Because the river came out of the cave under the fortress," Harry said confidently. "It flows away from the source."

Draco fell silent for a moment before challenging, "Well, how do you know it's the same river? It's a big valley, Potter. And do you even know which way we're going?"

This time, Harry found himself without a ready answer. In all likelihood, it was the same river. But then he didn't know which way they were travelling.

A grin broke out on Harry's face, and he placed his wand flat on the palm of his hand. "Point me!"

The wand spun for a moment before coming to a quivering stop, the tip pointing backwards over Harry's left shoulder.

"That's north," Harry gestured. "We left the castle heading west." He pointed again. "And you said Hogwarts was which way?"

Draco stared at him, shaking his head incredulously before pointing south.

"Good. That means we should travel southwest, away from the castle. Which is downstream. So I was right the first time."

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance at being bested. "And just where did you learn that little parlour trick?"

"Fourth year. For the Triwizard Tournament. Third task."

"Lovely," Draco grumbled. "Hail the conquering hero."

Harry ignored him. "By the way, how do you know where Hogwarts is from here?"

Draco's demeanour changed in an instant and he bit down hard on his lower lip. His hand went to the base of his throat and Harry saw a recent wound there. He hadn't noticed it before. "Because... because You-Know-Who pointed it out... when he... when he spoke to me."

"Oh," Harry said hesitantly. He stood in an awkward silence for a moment. He made a mental note to ask Draco later what had really happened when he went to meet Voldemort alone. Judging by Draco's reaction, it must have been dreadful. Finally, he broke the standstill, muttering, "We have to start moving again."

"Right," Draco whispered.

Again, Harry took the lead as they splashed into the shallows, hugging close to the bank, hoping the trees would provide some concealment; the grey light that filtered through the fog slowly growing brighter. They continued in relative silence, and Harry kept alert, listening for any hint of pursuit. He stepped carefully, watching his footing along the rocky bottom of the river, trying to walk as steadily as possible. He was still miserably exhausted, but so much better than the day before. Adrenaline and hope were a powerful combination.

Even so, he could feel Draco's eyes on the back of his neck, watching his every step, as though to make sure he wouldn't stumble. Harry positively despised the thought of anyone treating him as though he were delicate, particularly Draco Malfoy. But underneath his stubbornness, he knew he was grateful that someone was watching out for him just then. It was reassuring, in a strange sort of way. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"By the way, Potter," Draco said out of nowhere, "You still owe me that Foot-Warming Charm. If there is such a thing. My feet are freezing."

Harry felt an involuntary grin pull at the corner of his mouth.

"I can't believe you had me give Biddy one of my only two socks. Socks are important. They keep your feet from freezing. Like mine are now."

He spoke so matter-of-factly that Harry laughed out loud. "Malfoy, unless your socks are waterproof, they wouldn't do you a bit of good anyway. My feet are soaking wet and cold too."

"But once my feet are dry again, my socks would keep my feet warm. If I had a full pair. Which I don't."

If Harry hadn't known that Draco was only complaining to keep them both distracted from the tension of the situation, he would have been irritated. But he had to admit to himself that listening to Draco Malfoy in some sort of misery was more than slightly entertaining, so he played along.

"Well, Malfoy, you could have given her your underwear. But then you'd complain about a draft."

"I'll bet you'd love to see my underwear, Potter."

Harry snickered. "I heard the Hufflepuffs did, in fourth year Transfiguration. Green with pink hearts, right?"

"You... You bastard," Draco said, without any real malice.

"I can just picture Biddy with those. She'd be too small to wear them properly, and house-elves have some strange clothing fetishes. I can just picture her with those on top of her head, with her ears sticking out the leg holes."

"I did NOT need that mental image!" Draco sounded disgusted.

"She seemed to adore you quite a bit, Draco," Harry egged him on. "The way she latched on to your leg. Looks like you've finally got yourself a girlfriend!"

"Potter!" Draco cried in exasperation.

Harry stopped and turned around to look at Draco. Draco's cheeks were flushed a furious pink. Harry tipped his head to the side as though considering the matter. "Well, at least Biddy is a touch prettier than Pansy Parkinson."

Draco's scowl softened into an amused smirk. "True enough." He looked down at his trousers, which were soaked up to his knees. "Potter, you had better be right about needing to walk through the river. If it turns out I'm doing this for nothing, I swear I'll-"

Harry held him up short by raising a finger to his lips. "Shh!"

At first, Harry thought it might have been his imagination, but then he heard it again. A slight edge of panic rose in his voice, and he cursed aloud, "Shit!"

He looked around frantically, searching for any immediate place to hide. Spying one, Harry grabbed Draco by the arm and dragged the startled boy across the river and upstream about thirty or forty metres. Here the trees had overgrown the river, creating a deep overhang of dirt and roots. All the while, the sound of barking dogs was drawing closer.

Draco glanced upstream nervously, eying the overhang with equal trepidation. "I'm not going in there. There could be snakes, or spiders, or -"

Harry never got a chance to hear what else there might be under the bank, as he'd already grabbed Draco by the shoulders and shoved him bodily under the overhang.

"Get as far back as you can," Harry whispered roughly, continuing to push Draco as he went. "After Aragog, spiders are nothing, and the snakes will make for some pleasant conversation."

"Aragog?"

"You don't want to know."

"That's really reassuring, Potter." Draco recoiled as he brushed against a mass of tangled roots and dirt. "Oh, gross."

"No, Malfoy! Over here." Harry had found a small ledge and had pulled his feet up and out of the water. "Hurry, they're getting closer."

Draco looked as though he was about to protest again when the sound of a man yelling joined the dogs' barking. With a burst of desperation, Draco scrambled onto the ledge next to Harry.

Harry pressed as far back as he could, doing his best to ignore the dirt crumbling down his shirt, the nervous thudding of his heart, and his close physical proximity to Draco. Through the gaps in the roots of the overhang, Harry could see splotches of the river and the far bank. He craned his neck sideways, and fixed his eyes on the river through the largest gap, listening to the barking and yelling as they grew louder. Finally, three large dogs splashed into view, with two robed wizards running in their wake. Next to him, Harry could feel Draco begin to shake.

"Merlin's beard," Draco breathed, just barely audible. "You were right."

"Just be still," Harry whispered out of the side of his mouth, trying to inject some confidence into his tone. But any certainty he felt vanished when the dogs came to an abrupt halt just thirty metres downstream.

The wizards drew up behind the dogs as they sniffed the air, only a few steps from where Harry and Draco had stopped when they'd heard the dogs in the first place.

"Ruddy beasts seem to think they've found something," said one of the wizards, a tall, broad-shouldered man. Harry couldn't see his face, but there was something about the man that Harry felt he should be able to recognize.

"That is disgustingly obvious, Goyle," drawled a very familiar voice in return.

Draco shrank back against Harry, shivering violently, and whispered in a terrified squeak, "Father..."

In a heartbeat, Harry sealed his hand over Draco's mouth. "Be quiet!" he hissed, not taking his eyes from the scene out on the river. He caught a glimpse of blond hair as Lucius Malfoy turned in place.

"These animals are useless. Why the Dark Lord would use Muggle beasts is beyond my comprehension."

"Well, Malfoy, if your precious son hadn't turned traitor, we wouldn't have this problem, now would we?"

"YOU!" screamed Lucius, "would be wise to hold your tongue! NOW KEEP SEARCHING!"

Lucius moved out of sight, hidden by another mass of roots and dirt, and Harry snuck a look at Draco.

Draco's eyes were wide with fear in his dark, muddy face. Harry bit his lip, internally sympathizing with the boy, but he couldn't risk Draco's panic exposing them. "Can you be still?"

Slowly, Draco nodded. Reluctantly, Harry released him, and then turned his attention to the problem out in the stream.

The dogs were pacing around the far bank and Goyle seemed to be exploring further downstream, but Lucius had taken a few strides upstream, stopping in plain sight. He stood in the middle of the stream, water flowing almost to his knees, although his robes didn't appear to be getting wet. He turned slowly in place, hands on his hips, as though he owned the river.

Just as Lucius' gaze passed over the part of the embankment where the boys were hiding, Draco reached out and grasped Harry's arm, fingers clenching convulsively, digging painfully into Harry's skin. Harry gritted his teeth to stifle his reaction, but Draco hadn't made a noise, so Harry resisted the impulse to remove his hand. Even though the grip hurt like hell. Lucius' line of sight finally turned away from them, but Draco's grip on Harry's arm remained.

A diversion, Harry thought. I need a diversion.

Without disrupting Draco's grip, although he very much would have liked to do just that, Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand. Praying silently to any deities that might be listening, he took careful aim at a rock on the far bank, near to where the dogs were sniffing.

"Cuniculus Verto!"

Where the rock had been only a split second before, suddenly there sat a large white rabbit. The rabbit caught sight of the dogs before turning on its tail, and raced into the woods. Forgetting their previous mission, the dogs immediately turned on the new quarry and took off, howling in pursuit.

Lucius spun around in place. "Goyle! They've found the trail! Follow me!"

A moment later, the river was deserted and Harry finally became aware of the fact that he needed to breathe again. Then the sensation of his arm tingling and aching caught his attention, and he realized Draco was still gripping his arm, even harder than before, if such a thing were possible.

Draco was huddled close against Harry, every muscle in his body tense and trembling. His eyes were peeled wide open, and his breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Malfoy?"

Draco appeared not to notice. If anything, he gripped Harry's arm still tighter.

Harry winced. "Draco, are you all right?"

"What?" Draco turned his head like he'd been slapped, then stared at Harry as though just recognizing him for the first time. "Harry?"

"Er, can I have my arm back?"

"Oh." Draco quickly released Harry's arm, eyes still glazed over and taking not even a cursory glance at the damage he'd caused. He was staring blankly at the spot where his father had been only moments before. "Sorry."

Harry rubbed his arm in an attempt to restore circulation. "Not a problem. Really though, are you all right? You seemed a bit -"

"Fine, Potter," Draco snapped, suddenly breaking away from his trance. "I'm absolutely fine."

"But your father -"

"I SAID I'M FINE!"

Harry recoiled in surprise at the vehemence in Draco's voice, but said nothing. If Draco was taking the route of emotional avoidance to keep himself from panicking, that was fine, for now. He turned away from Draco and squinted through the tangles of roots to stare past the river, looking for any sign that the search party might return.

"How... how did you know to do that?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry glanced at Draco briefly out the corner of his eye. Draco was sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, and was chewing on the inside of his lower lip, taking slow, obvious breaths. It was fair, Harry supposed, for Draco to be a bit shaken up by the whole thing. And if he didn't wish to talk about it, that was fine. For now at least.

"Actually," Harry said casually, "I saw a Muggle film where a couple of criminals escaped search dogs by travelling in a river."

Draco blinked and cocked his head at Harry, eyebrows furrowed. "A what?! No, stupid. The rabbit! Not that I'm not supremely grateful, but a rabbit?" he asked, sounding much more like his usual self. "Why the hell did you bother to learn such a silly transfiguration?"

At that, Harry could actually feel himself blushing. "I... er... wanted to learn to pull a rabbit from a hat."

Draco stared at him incredulously. "Potter, you're a strange one, to be sure, but why would you want to learn a pointless stunt like that?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest defensively. "Well, it's a classic Muggle magic trick, and I just... oh never mind. It worked, didn't it?"

Draco scowled and grumbled, "Yeah, Potter. It worked perfectly. Mr. Transfiguration Genius. Now, just transfigure me a sock, will you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. What an odd time to think of such a thing. "Still going on about the sock?"

"Potter," Draco said in an artificially haughty tone, tipping his nose up in the air. The stark contrast of his expression with his filthy appearance struck Harry as funny, and despite the circumstances, Harry gave a short laugh. Draco pretended not to notice. "I have sacrificed an article of my clothing for the welfare of a house-elf, and you. My toes are cold, and I'm quite sure I have a blister. Yes, I am still 'going on' about the bloody sock."

Harry blew air slowly between his pursed lips. If all it took to keep Draco calm was a sock, then Harry could oblige that small favour. "Fine. You want a sock?"

"Yes I do."

"All right." Harry reached up and removed a slug that had been crawling along Draco's shoulder. "Tibiale Verto!"

With a faint pop, the slug in Harry's hand was replaced by a red and gold argyle sock, which he offered to Draco. He couldn't help but snigger slightly. "Forgive me if it's a bit slimy."

Draco stared from the sock in Harry's hand, to the place on his shoulder where the slug had been, appearing distinctly scandalized. "Potter, that is really disgusting."

"Actually, it's warm and woollen." Inspired by the revolted look on Draco's face, Harry continued, "If you want, I can use the slug crawling in your hair to complete a pair of them."

Draco erupted into a panic, flailing his arms around his head. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

Harry brought up his hands to protect himself from being hit. "I was just kidding!"

Without missing a beat, Draco switched from flailing at his own head to thrashing at Harry. "You bastard!"

Harry laughed as he deflected the blows. "Absolutely. Do you want your sock?"

Draco grunted at him and snatched the sock. "Red... bloody Gryffindors," he grumbled, but he still tucked the sock into his pocket. "Can we please get out of here now?" he asked sharply.

Harry gestured graciously towards the river. "Ladies first."

"Bastard," Draco muttered under his breath, but he made a hasty exit.

Harry chuckled softly to himself as he slid down from the ledge and followed Draco out from under the embankment. Draco seemed nicely distracted from his previous panic, they'd evaded capture, and the day was already turning pleasantly warm and sunny.

Perhaps, Harry thought, this isn't going to be as bad as it could have been. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, marvelling at the ease of their escape. It was surprising, but he'd take whatever he could get. He squinted as the bright morning sun reflected off the river, temporarily blinding him.

It happened faster than Harry could react. A large fist crashed down on the back of Draco's neck, sending the boy sprawling face-first into the water. Harry lunged towards him with a cry of shock, but just as quickly, a gag found its way around Harry's face and choked his voice back into his throat. Ropes wrapped around his arms and ankles, binding him tightly. Already off-balance, Harry toppled forward and crashed into the shallows alongside Draco.

The water swirled up around his face, filling his nose and ears, causing him to choke. He tried to pull his head above water, but with his hands tied tightly he couldn't gain any leverage. Just as the fear of drowning was about to overwhelm him, something gripped the back of his shirt, and he was hauled bodily from the water.

Next thing he knew, he was being thrown onto dry ground, landing hard enough to knock the wind out of him. A dull thud next to him was the sound of Draco's body being dropped there.

"Well, look at what we have here."

Harry squinted through the droplets of water clinging to his glasses. An enormous face leered at him, perched on even larger shoulders, with almost no visible neck. For an instant of insane horror, Harry almost thought his Uncle Vernon had captured him, but he blinked and the illusion evaporated, and the sinking realization hit him; he'd been captured by a Death Eater.

"You'll be a lovely little prize to take back to the Dark Lord," the man snarled at Harry with satisfaction. "Thought you could escape him, did you? Filthy half-blooded freak."

Harry struggled against his bonds, thinking hopelessly about his wand, which was tucked securely out of reach. Panic began to well up in the back of his mind. The ropes at his wrists seemed to tighten as he struggled against them.

The large man grunted at him, laughing. "Go on, Potter. Struggle. Never met a man who could break one of my binding charms. Think a scrap of a boy like you even has a chance? The Dark Lord will reward us richly for this. Won't he, Wormtail?"

In a flash, Harry's panic was completely overshadowed by rage. WORMTAIL.

"Yes, Crabbe," came the unenthusiastic reply from somewhere to Harry's left.

Harry tried to turn on his side to face Wormtail, but he was stopped as Crabbe's foot collided with his ribs. He collapsed against the ground as pain shot through his side, biting down on his gag to stifle his reaction.

"Don't damage him, Crabbe," Wormtail said quickly in a thin, shaking voice. "The Dark Lord wants him unharmed."

"He's just gonna kill 'em anyway," Crabbe grumbled, but he finally grunted in consent.

Next to Harry on the ground, there came a faint moan, then a weak cough.

A malevolent grin spread across Crabbe's face, and he walked around Harry towards Draco. Harry twisted onto his side to keep an eye on the man. Draco was lying on his stomach about five feet away, just beginning to stir. A watery trickle of blood ran from an angry looking gash on his temple.

Crabbe hovered over him for a moment, sneering, before flipping the boy over roughly with his foot. Draco made a pained yelp which ended in another scratchy cough. Crabbe stuck his lower lip out. "Hmmphff. Treacherous little whelp. The Master didn't tell us to return this 'un unharmed, did he, Wormtail?"

With a sudden motion, Crabbe lashed out with his foot, kicking Draco viciously in the side of his stomach. Draco cried out and rolled sideways on the ground, away from Crabbe, clutching his arms protectively around his torso. He was facing Harry, but his eyes were squeezed shut, his face screwed up in pain, coughing and moaning. The wound on his temple was still oozing blood across his wet, muddy face, and his hair was still plastered to his cheeks and forehead; he looked nothing like the Draco Malfoy Harry had always known.

Behind Draco, Crabbe had aimed his wand at the boy, and Draco suddenly slid backwards along the ground as though being dragged by an invisible hand. He skidded to a halt at Crabbe's feet.

"That was for betraying the Dark Lord." He kicked again, eliciting another cry from Draco. "So pathetic. And to think, Lucius boasted that his son would be the finest. Blood traitor."

He kicked again, but this time it barely pulled a whimper from Draco. Harry watched, helpless, as he felt his worry shifting from his own fate to Draco's situation.

"Crabbe, perhaps we should just take them back," Wormtail said nervously. "The Dark Lord is waiting."

Harry craned his neck around, and finally got a look at Wormtail. The man was wringing his hands and chewing on his lower lip. He must have realized Harry was staring at him, because he glanced down. Harry locked eyes with him, glaring furiously, and Wormtail visibly blanched, shuddered, and looked away. Fury flared through Harry, not only at the presence of the man he hated almost as much as Voldemort, but also at Wormtail's pure cowardice.

One curse. Just one second would be all Harry needed, and he'd blast the despicable rat into oblivion.

"Let's just... st-stun them and... and take them back, Crabbe," Wormtail stuttered.

Harry turned his head to look at Crabbe.

"An extra minute won't hurt," Crabbe complained. "You, of all people, should enjoy the chance to torture this little weed. This bastard would have taken your place at the Dark Lord's side."

"He won't. We've got him. Please, let's go back..."

"Not yet. This little brat thinks he can just stroll in and outrank a real Death Eater. He doesn't know his place. Even if you don't want a stab at him, I do. Crucio!"

Draco's screams ripped through the air. He rolled onto his stomach and began clawing desperately at the ground.

Harry's eyes went wide. If being tortured was the most terrible thing in the world, Harry now knew that listening to the screams of someone else being tortured was nearly as bad. He squirmed on the ground, trying desperately to get to Draco, even though he knew there was nothing he could do to help. Crabbe was howling in malicious delight, but in Harry's mind, there was only Draco; Draco writhing on the ground, screaming in pain, bleeding, just out of reach.

But before Harry had moved more than a foot, a loud yell cut through Draco's screams.

"STUPEFY!"

Harry flinched, automatically expecting to be hit with the curse, but it never came. Draco's screaming was almost immediately replaced by the sound of him gasping for air. Surprised by this sudden turn of events, Harry tried to twist around, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. Wormtail was leaning over him.

"Lie still."

Harry felt tugging on his gag. As the cloth fell away from his mouth, it took every bit of self-control he could muster to hold back the string of curses waiting to erupt from him. No matter that Wormtail was untying him. Enough that it was Wormtail.

The bonds around his ankles were quickly cut away. As Wormtail began to cut the ropes around Harry's wrists, Harry prepared to lunge. One rope snapped, then another. Finally, the last rope was severed, and in a heartbeat, Harry was on his feet, wand aimed level at Wormtail's heart.

But Wormtail was making no move to defend himself. His wand was nowhere to be seen, and he was wringing his hands as though he hadn't a clue what to do with them. Instead of combative, or even defensive, he looked ready to soil his trousers.

Harry faltered for a split-second, surprised by Wormtail's stance, but he quickly reminded himself who he was looking at6 and steeled his resolve. His eyes narrowed, and his voice was low and dangerous.

"Give me one good reason not to finish the job I should have done two years ago."

Wormtail seemed to shrink into his robes momentarily, but then his shoulders slumped in resignation. "G-go on, Potter," he said thinly. "It's only a matter of time before I'm d-dead anyway."

Harry's wand lowered a fraction of an inch. "What are you talking about?"

Wormtail's nose twitched; he almost looked irritated. "Are you daft, Potter? I'm letting you go. What part do you not understand?"

The wand wavered, but then it quickly trained on its target again. "You're a murderous traitor. Why should I believe you?"

At this, Wormtail actually rolled his eyes, although he still hadn't stopped wringing his hands. "Aside from the fact that I s-stunned Crabbe and cut your ropes? N-no reason whatsoever."

Harry stared in confusion, mouth hanging slightly open. This was just too strange. He gritted his teeth again, and took a step towards Wormtail, wand still aimed at the man's heart. He meant to sound furious when he spoke, but he couldn't hide his confusion completely. "It's because of you that my parents are dead and Voldemort is back. You're a coward and a traitor. You still deserve to die."

Wormtail eyed the wand nervously, then slowly shook his head. "Boy, I deserve worse than that, and no m-matter what you do now, I c-can't escape that fate. I give up. I c-can't live with this, and it's better to die by your hand than the Dark Lord's."

Harry finally realized that the man was serious. The wand began to lower. "Then... why?"

Wormtail furrowed his eyebrows. "Y-you really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"A Wizard's life-debt, Potter. I owe you a life-debt, and I'm paying it."

Harry scoffed. "You sold out my parents. You sold me once. I see no reason why some 'debt of honour' would bind you now!"

He took another stride towards Wormtail and raised his wand again. Wormtail's composure finally cracked, and he took a stumbling step backwards. "N-not honour, Potter! If it was just a m-matter of honour, then you're right! I wouldn't do it! I couldn't do it! But you don't understand... I have to do it. I have no choice! I'm bound to you."

Harry wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "I want nothing to do with you. And this 'bond' didn't stop you a year and a half ago, when you tied me to a gravestone and used my blood to bring back your master."

Harry advanced again, fury boiling in his veins like thick oil. Wormtail stepped backwards and tripped, scrambled to his knees, and cowered on the ground, shaking pitifully.

"The Dark Lord promised me immunity from the debt, Potter! I believed him, but it's false! Nothing breaks a life-debt, Potter! A Wizard's life-debt! You can't possibly understand how it haunts me, tortures me! Now, get out of here!"

Harry looked down at the pathetic lump of a man, and lowered his wand. "Why did you do it?" he whispered angrily, undercutting Pettigrew's yells.

Wormtail lifted his head from the ground. "What?"

"Why did you betray my parents?" he growled, low and dangerous. "Why?"

Wormtail scuttered backwards, only to find he'd backed himself against a tree. He stammered unintelligibly for a moment, which only irritated Harry more.

"I need to know why you did it! They were your friends! They trusted you! And you betrayed them and everything they fought for!"

Pettigrew pressed his face into the dirt, the raised it to speak, with dirt smeared across his nose and cheekbones. "I never thought it would go that far, Harry! Your parents were good people, and I wasn't good enough! I got in too deep!"

Harry advanced on him again, glaring at him fiercely, unrelenting. "WHY?!"

Wormtail shook convulsively, clutching at his own robes like a madman. "Because the Dark Lord was everywhere! There was no escape! He would have killed me!"

"You could have fought!"

"I was scared!" Wormtail howled in despair, collapsing against the tree, a shivering, shaking pile of oversized robes. He was breathing hard, and began muttering to himself, "I was scared... I was scared..."

Harry was torn between feelings of contempt and disgust as he stared down at Wormtail. "Get up," he snapped.

Wormtail glanced at him hesitantly.

"I SAID GET UP! Before I change my mind!"

The man scrambled to his feet in a heartbeat, but instead of running off as Harry had expected, he stood there, staring at Harry uncertainly.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry snarled, his patience wearing thin.

"What... how are you preventing the Dark Lord from tracking you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. Voldemort hadn't figured it out yet? Surely Lucius would know... But if not... "I'm not telling you anything."

"Well, whatever you're doing, don't stop. He's got a tracking spell on you, and if your shielding charm, or whatever it is, fails... even for a second... you're as good as dead."

Slowly, Harry nodded.

"Good," Wormtail said quietly. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, as though checking to see if someone was watching him, before turning back to Harry. His lips were drawn into a thin, nervous line. He took a deep breath. "Your father really would have been proud to see you, Harry. He was a great man. I wish I had been."

Before Harry could react, Wormtail-the-man disappeared, and a rat with one white paw scurried off into the underbrush.

Harry stood still, staring at the place where the rat's tail had last been seen disappearing under a leaf, when he was pulled from his daze by a pained moan.

"Draco!" Harry rushed to Draco and fell to his knees next to the boy's prone form. He tried to be gentle as he rolled Draco over onto his back.

Draco's hand was pressed to his temple, a trickle of blood oozing through his fingers, and his cheeks were drawn and sallow. He squinted up at Harry. "That really sucked."

"Are you all right?" Harry grabbed at Draco's hand, trying to get a good look at the gash.

Draco twisted and wrenched his hand away from Harry, keeping it pressed tight to his head. "Ducky, Potter," he snapped weakly. "Just bloody ducky."

"Can you stand up?" Harry asked in a rush. "We have to move before someone else comes."

Draco nodded and made a fast attempt to sit up, but halfway through the movement, a grimace of pain flashed across his face. He brought his hand to his forehead and dropped back to the ground with a pained moan.

"You're injured. Let me see it," Harry ordered. He made another attempt to grab Draco's hand, but Draco batted him away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Malfoy, I'm trying to help!"

"I don't want your help!" Draco held both of his hands tightly over the gash, and Harry was vaguely reminded of a tantrum Dudley had thrown when he'd fallen off his bicycle and scraped his knee on his ninth birthday. (Dudley had tossed the bicycle under the wheels of a passing lorry the next day.)

"You're whining."

Draco peeked out from under his hands as though suddenly realizing how stupid he looked. Dropping one hand to his side, but still keeping the gash covered, he attempted to regain his poise. "But I'm so good at it."

Harry scowled at him. "If you can't get up on your own, then you're going to let me help you so we can both get out of here."

Draco stared at Harry. "I hate needing help," he fussed.

"Then we're even," Harry said shortly.

Draco looked away, muttering something about déjà vu. With a sigh, he reluctantly held out his hand to Harry, keeping the other hand pressed against his temple.

Harry pulled him into a seated position, and he clutched his at ribs with a groan. "Damn," he said softly.

"I can't believe I put you through that," he said, more to himself than Harry. "I had no idea... it was that awful..."

"It's history now, Malfoy. But we will be too if we don't leave now."

Draco nodded, and Harry pulled him to his feet, steadying him until he stopped teetering. As soon as Draco looked like he wasn't about to fall over, Harry released him. He nodded his approval to Draco, then glanced over his shoulder to where Crabbe was lying comatose on the ground. "What about him? We can't just leave him there like that."

Stumbling slightly, Draco rounded on Crabbe. His face was drawn, body trembling, but his jaw was set and his eyes flashed darkly. "We could. Or I could tie him up, Crucio him, and kill him."

"Malfoy!" It wasn't the suggestion that startled Harry, but the sudden change in Draco's eyes, the look of pure hatred, an unrefined lust for death.

"That's what he did to us! What he would have done!" Draco cried, not taking his eyes from Crabbe. His hand went into his robe pocket, reaching for his wand. "He deserves it!"

Harry was more than inclined to agree with that assessment, and killing Crabbe would probably be the safest plan; however, some annoying part of him couldn't allow an attack on an unconscious man. He'd never before realised that his conscience was positioned around his spleen, but he was acutely aware of it now. Gritting his teeth against his better judgment, Harry placed his hand over Draco's, which was clenched tight around his wand, shaking.

"Don't, Malfoy."

"Are you mad?!" Draco's eyes flashed at him dangerously. "He'll track us! He'll tell You-Know-Who where we went! And I would have thought you'd be happy to kill any Death Eater!"

Harry swallowed, knowing full well that he would be more than happy if he could just snap his fingers and watch every Death Eater fall to a painful death. But he shook his head. "Not... not like this, Malfoy."

"HE TORTURED ME!"

Harry steeled himself. "I know what that's like. Remember?"

Draco froze in place, the fury in his eyes replaced by shock and disgust. Slowly, Harry pushed down the tip of Draco's wand. Finally, Draco let his hand fall to his side and looked away, muttering, "Bloody Gryffindors."

"So then," Harry said, "what will we do with him?"

Draco turned back towards Harry, a glint of a smirk returning to his defeated features. "Well, we could turn him into a slug."

"Or a ferret," Harry said slyly.

Draco glared. "Or not."

They quickly decided on a combination of Petrificus Totalus and Obliviate. For good measure, Harry tied Crabbe's shoelaces together.

"They'll find him soon enough," Draco said solemnly as they walked away from the river. "Although I almost hope they leave him there to freeze."

"Are you sure the Memory Charm is strong enough?" Harry asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Potter, that's Crabbe. Pure-blooded, but brainless. Longbottom on a bad day could make that oaf forget his own name."

*********

As soon as they left the clearing, the sound of the river faded into the distance, and all conversation faded with it. Harry seemed content with the neutral silence, but for Draco, it was like reaching the hard stop at the bottom of a long, terrifying fall. After the yelling, the pain, and the sheer violence of the encounter with Crabbe and Wormtail, the abrupt stillness was strange and discordant in Draco's mind. As long as he'd kept talking, as long as he was purely angry, he had been able to keep himself distracted. But now, his brain was running in thunderous circles, and there was nothing to muffle it.

He wanted to break the silence, he couldn't bring himself to do it now that it had already set in. He was too nervous, and watching and listening for any signs of pursuit. If he made any noise, he might miss evidence of an impending attack until it was too late. As he walked behind Harry, he checked back over his shoulder every few feet. Each time he heard a leaf rustle, felt the wind shift, or saw a branch move, his heart would freeze, and he'd expect to see his father jump out from behind a tree at any second.

Lucius, his father, was somewhere in the woods, hunting him like an animal.

If he'd thought his decision through to the logical conclusion, he wouldn't have been surprised, but he hadn't stopped to think. There had been no time. Decisions had been made, and it was too late. He'd seen the anger in his father's eyes, heard it in his voice, but he knew his father well enough to recognize the other emotions there, things which anyone else would have missed. The disappointment, the shame.

He didn't want to think about his father any longer. He was miserable enough without that added stress.

Everything hurt. His head was throbbing mercilessly, and his stomach was doing a contortionist act. He was pretty sure he had no broken ribs, but they were definitely bruised. But he wasn't going to be weak. And he certainly wasn't going to complain to Potter. He'd deal with the bruises later. At least his father wasn't there to chastise him, to tell him that he looked like a common servant all bruised and filthy.

No, he wasn't going to think about his father.

He should be grateful, really. He could have been captured, returned to Voldemort's dungeon to await his punishment. Although he had never witnessed much first-hand, Draco had heard enough stories to know just what atrocities Death Eaters were capable of inflicting. Crabbe's punishment had been bad enough, and would have been a lot worse had it not been cut short.

Which made him wonder why it had been cut short.

Harry pulled a branch out of the way, and then held it to let Draco through without being lashed. Draco grabbed the branch himself with a quiet, "Thank you."

Harry nodded in reply, and trudged on.

Draco hesitated for just a moment, but the silence had finally been broken. "So what the hell just happened?"

Harry held up and glanced back at him. "What?"

"Tell me why I'm not dead yet. How the hell did we just get out of that mess? We should have been dragged back to the fortress. You should be back in a cage again, and I should already be gilled, gutted, and left for scavengers."

Stone-faced, Harry nodded. "Yes, we should be." He seemed intent on avoiding the subject.

"So then, why aren't we? More heroism, courtesy of Harry Potter, Boy Wonder?"

Harry stood still for a moment before he leaned against a tree, fatigue showing in every movement. "No, it was Wormtail. He let us go."

Draco's eyes went wide. "What? He's practically married to You-Know-Who! Attached at the hip! He'd never!" The outburst caused a pain to shoot through his side, and he clutched loosely at his ribs and coughed twice.

"All right, Malfoy?"

Draco glared at him. He did not want sympathy, so he bypassed the question. "Wormtail is the worst grovelling piece of slime in the bunch. He would never betray the Dark Lord."

"Well, he did."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why?"

Harry chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and then sighed resignedly. "He owed me a life-debt."

"A life... Potter, please tell me how the hell you managed to earn a life-debt from the Dark Lord's right-hand man?"

Harry blew a slow breath between his lips, before replying shortly, "Just chalk that up as one of the many mysterious wonders of me being Harry Potter, Boy Wonder. In other words, you don't want to know."

"Well then, have it your way." As he said it, Draco mentally slapped himself. He absolutely did want to know!

Harry shrugged. "Good. Ridiculous story anyway."

Draco mentally slapped himself again and grimaced.

Harry leaned forward from the tree, and his eyebrows knitted together. "Are you sure you're all right? Do you need to stop for a minute?"

At the mere suggestion, Draco's curiosity was forgotten, and he felt a wave of panic slam into his already-abused chest.

"NO! We haven't gone far enough yet!" He looked back over his right shoulder, then his left, mentally conjuring images of robed Death Eaters, stepping from behind trees, surrounding him, and his father leading them all, wand outstretched...

Harry was regarding him very oddly. Suspiciously, even.

Draco took a deep breath, trying for force the appearance of being calm, collected, and in control. A Malfoy. "No, Potter, we are not stopping now. We'll stop for lunch if you need to in a couple of hours."

Harry scowled at him.

In his shoes, Draco could feel his bare toes curling and uncurling nervously, desperate to be moving again. He gritted his teeth. "Come on, let's go." With a sweep of his arm, he gestured forward. "Ladies first."

Rolling his eyes with an exasperated huff, Harry struck out again, setting a pace just a bit more rapid than before.

As soon as Harry's eyes were off him, Draco felt his pent-up nerves and stress warp his face, causing a trace of moisture to squeeze from the corners of his eyes. He stuffed his hands into his pockets sullenly and took off after Harry.

In one of his pockets, his fingers found a rolled-up wad of wool: the sock Harry had given him.

He hadn't lost it.

But it was wet.

Draco followed Harry northwest for a ways, then they doubled back on their own trail at Harry's insistence (to confuse the dogs, he said), before finally moving southwest again. They came to a small stream and followed it for ten minutes before breaking off and assuming a southerly route.

Draco lost track of time, but the day progressed regardless. The fog burnt off, leaving a clear blue sky peeking through the dense forest canopy. His hair and robes dried, but the mud that hadn't been washed away by the river was still caked on his cheeks and in his hair.

Great, not only do I feel like shit, but I'm covered with the stuff as well.

He tried a few Cleaning Charms, but they were inexpertly placed, as most of his energy was being spent on keeping up with Harry, and his head hurt too much to focus properly for magic.

Eventually, Harry's pace slowed, which was a mixed blessing for Draco. He felt like hell, and he wasn't accustomed to nearly so much physical exertion. He also didn't like the idea that a half-starved Harry Potter could outpace him under any conditions. However, the speed and rough terrain had been an excellent distraction from his thoughts, and as the pace became more leisurely, his mind began to run rampant again.

Was his father still stalking him? It had been at least a couple of hours since they'd seen anyone, Draco reasoned with himself, but he couldn't keep from glancing back over his shoulder again. What was going on in the woods around him? Had they found Crabbe? Where was Wormtail? Had somebody reported back to the Dark Lord yet? Had Biddy managed to get a message to Dumbledore? What were they thinking back at Hogwarts? Had Dumbledore sent anyone to find them? Was the Dark Lord going to try another way to find them?

That's a stupid question. Voldemort doesn't give up so easily.

That thought, and the attached sense of inevitability assaulted Draco with another wave of nausea, and he was certain that his mental torment was more painful than his physical injuries. He was off-balance, off-centre, and just ahead of him was Harry, marching stoically onwards.

Draco mentally berated himself for his own weakness. A bump on the head and a few seconds of the Cruciatus, and all he wanted to do was curl up on the ground and wish for the whole world to go away. And he didn't even have the courage to do that, because he was too afraid to stop. If he stopped, his father would get him. He'd been through so much, he told himself, reasoning away the neurosis. He had a right to be traumatized.

But what had Harry gone through in the past week? Draco bit his tongue, stifling the guilty awareness that if he'd been in Harry's situation, he'd be a hopeless wreck by now.

I'm a wreck anyway.

Draco watched sullenly as Harry easily scrambled over a huge fallen log. Not to be outdone, Draco sized up the tree trunk. It wasn't particularly rational, but rationality wasn't high on Draco's list of priorities just then. He gritted his teeth, took a short running start, jumped, and side-vaulted the oversized log.

Almost.

His hand slipped on the moss, his foot caught on the trunk, and before he knew it, he had landed with a 'whuf!' flat on his back, in a most inelegant heap on the ground.

"Malfoy! Are you all right?" Harry was beside him in an instant. "What were you doing?"

"I'm admiring the sky. Such a pleasant shade of blue, don't you think so?"

"Er... Malfoy?"

"You ought to try it. Very relaxing."

"Maybe that head injury is beginning to get to you. Do you think -"

"Potter!" Draco snapped indignantly. "If you inquire about my physical welfare even once more, I swear on Merlin's beard, I will stun you, tie you up, and hang you upside down from the nearest tree."

Harry paused for a second. "Hmmm... I didn't know you were into bondage, but if you insist."

The effect was instantaneous. Draco choked on his own breath and sat up in a rush, sputtering. Just as quickly, he clutched his bruised ribs with a whimper. He tried to stifle the effect of the pain, and quickly covered his grimace with a glare. "That wasn't funny."

"It got you to sit up though," Harry said, looking deceptively innocent.

"Yeah, sure. Just don't ever say that again."

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps we really ought to stop and rest."

"No!" Draco exclaimed, just a bit too quickly, causing Harry to look at him questioningly. Draco took a breath and cleared his throat. "No, we can't stop here, not yet. We're still too close, and they could catch up with us."

"But we haven't seen any sign of them in almost three hours."

"I don't care!" Draco's voice was rising in pitch with each word. He scrambled to his feet. "They could be anywhere! And if you don't need to stop and rest, I don't need to stop either!"

"Malfoy..."

"And I don't need some heroic speech from the Boy-Wonder himself. I've heard enough of those already!"

"Malfoy..."

"You're Mr. Perfect himself! Throws off the Imperius Curse, bounces right back after the Cruciatus, gets himself into staring contests with You-Know-Who and lives!"

"MALFOY!"

"And STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

Draco stood there, chest heaving with emotion, staring at Harry's stunned face, and realized what he'd just said. His mouth hung open, trying to excuse the piece of stupidity he'd just uttered, but before he could, Harry's expression darkened.

Harry nodded his head once. "Fine." And then he stormed off, crashing loudly through the underbrush.

Panic quickly gripped Draco again; he was being left behind. He ran to catch up to Harry.

"Wait! Potter, slow down!"

"You wanted to keep moving," Harry said angrily as he swatted a branch aside. It sprung back and hit Draco in the chest. "So that's what we're doing. And we'll just keep on going until one of us bloody well collapses."

Draco untangled himself from the branch. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean, Malfoy?" Harry spat at him without looking back.

Draco cringed at the harsh use of his surname; his father's name. "I mean... I meant..." Draco had no intention of admitting his nearly debilitating fear of his father. "I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh," Harry said dryly.

Harry hadn't turned around, and he hadn't stopped, but he was no longer tearing through the woods like a stampeding centaur.

Draco took an uneasy breath. "I mean, how do you do it, Potter?"

Harry finally stopped. "Do what?"

The subject had been breached; there was no avoiding it. "Just... keep going like that. Did someone put a perpetual motion charm on you when you were a kid?"

This time, Harry turned around, and his expression was cold. "Yeah," he said bluntly, "and I've still got the scar from it."

Draco hung his head, not wanting to face Harry's trademark glare. He muttered under his breath.

"I didn't hear you."

Draco didn't look up, but he spoke more clearly. "I... I guess I'm still just a bit shaken by... by all that."

A few seconds of silence passed, and when Harry spoke again, his voice was softer. "Really, Malfoy, we haven't seen anyone in hours. I think... I think Wormtail might still be watching our back, keeping an eye out for us. If I die on his watch, then his life-debt isn't filled, if I understand anything about this stuff. I hate thinking that we couldn't have escaped without him, but for now, I think we're safe. If you're tired, we can stop."

Draco felt a hot flush of embarrassment across his cheeks. "I don't need you to patronize me, Potter."

"I'm not fucking patronizing you, Malfoy! If it makes you feel any better, I should tell you that I'm NOT under a 'perpetual motion charm.' I'm dead tired, and I want to stop too!"

"Oh."

"And when I suggested it, you went into a complete panic -"

"Hey!"

"- and insisted that we keep going."

"I'm not tired," Draco said, knowing full-well that he was being completely irrational.

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "So, I suppose the only match for Gryffindor stupidity is Slytherin idiocy."

Before Draco could react, Harry grabbed his wrist and sat down, pulling Draco to the ground in a most undignified twist.

"Watch it!" Draco protested.

Harry ignored him. "Pass me the water flask. What was that charm you used to refill it?"

"Aqualis," Draco said absently.

Harry drew out his wand and quickly repeated the charm. "Piece of fruit?"

Not wanting to see or smell food, Draco looped the sack from over his shoulder and passed the whole thing to Harry. He looked away, scanning the forest nervously for any signs of their pursuers until the food sack landed back in his lap.

"You should eat something too."

"I'm not hungry."

"If you don't eat, you won't be able to move. If you don't move, they'll catch you."

Harry's tone left no room for argument, and his reasoning was very effective, hitting with dread accuracy a particularly sensitive nerve. Draco dug into the sack, pulled out a biscuit and an apple, and began half-heartedly nibbling the biscuit. After a moment, Harry passed him the water flask. He refilled it, and as he drank, Draco realized just how thirsty he'd become.

The day was becoming warm, and in his thick black cloak, sitting in the sun, he was positively toasty. He shrugged off the cloak, draped it across his lap, and leaned back against a narrow tree. Not exactly comfortable, but it was enough. The forest was so quiet, and he was so tired. Draco's eyelids began to droop, all thoughts of food completely forgotten. His head was still throbbing dully, but even that ache began to fade away as the warmth soaked into his abused muscles.

He was drifting off when something shook him.

"Malfoy?"

Draco jerked awake with a start, shocked that he'd even let himself fall asleep. "Potter! Don't do that!"

Harry was leaning over him, studying his eyes. He held up one finger in front of Draco's face. "Malfoy, don't argue for a moment, but follow my finger with your eyes."

Too surprised by the unusual command to protest, Draco tried to follow as Harry's hand danced in front of his face: up, left, right, left, circle, down, up. The motion made him dizzy, and he closed his eyes and clutched his stomach. When he opened his eyes again, Harry was sitting back, looking at him sceptically.

"What was that all about, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, let's see. You're stressed, you're irritable, you're pale - more so than usual - so I was just wondering."

Draco sat up a little straighter against his tree. "I got a bit of sleep. I was trying to keep a watch out. So what the hell were you doing, waving your finger around in front of my face?"

"Oh, that." Harry suddenly looked apologetic. "I think you've got a concussion."

Draco grumbled. "Great. Now who's the bloody Mediwizard?"

Harry mimed tipping an imaginary hat and clicked his tongue.

"I hate you, Potter."

"You're welcome, Malfoy."

Reflexively, Draco cringed again. It was subtle, but when Harry's expression became solemn again, Draco knew it had shown. Harry started to ask a question, but Draco cut him off.

"We have to start moving again." Draco hauled himself to his feet, using the tree for leverage. As soon as he stood, he started to feel his headache returning with a vengeance, but he ignored it as best he could. "We're still too close to the fortress, and even with that rat helping us, assuming that he is, we need to put some more distance behind us."

He looked down at Harry, and Harry nodded in concession. Draco used a quick charm to shrink his cloak, and then tucked the cloth into one of the outer pockets of the food sack. He was stuffing his apple into a pocket for later when his fingers brushed against the rolled-up sock. A small grin tugged at his lips.

"One thing first."

"Oh?" Harry asked as he stood.

Without a word, Draco pulled out the sock, used a quick drying charm on it, and kicked off his shoe. He repeated the drying charm on his other foot. A moment later, his feet were delightfully warm and dry for the first time in hours. "Much better."

He flashed an easy grin at Harry, hoping to glaze over the issues that seemed to keep stacking up, but Harry was still searching him with that piercing stare. There would be questions later, and Draco could feel an unavoidable discussion brewing. His smile faded; it had been paper-thin anyway.

"Come on, Potter."

*********

They continued their southerly journey through most of the afternoon with no signs of pursuit. Every step further away from the fortress was a step closer to safety, Draco kept reminding himself. A step further from his father; from the Dark Lord. The terror that had been brewing just beneath Draco's surface, boiling over at the slightest upset, finally began to subside. Nerves that had been strung like a tightrope finally began to slacken; still present, ready to tense at a moment's notice, but finally the adrenaline began to run dry.

And the pure exhaustion began to wear on him.

Draco hated to admit it, but Harry was probably right about the state of his injuries, and the effects of his sleep-deprivation. His headache had faded to a mild thrum, annoying, but easy enough to ignore. He was certain that Harry must be tired and sore as well, but it didn't show very much, to Draco's chagrin. Harry's shoulders were straight as he walked, and his feet didn't keep catching on branches like Draco's did. At least, that was how it seemed to Draco. It would have been terribly embarrassing, if Draco had had enough energy left to be embarrassed. Still, Harry had set as comfortable a pace as possible, and Draco followed along, too tired to do anything else.

As they walked, conversation was simple, for which Draco's aching head was immensely grateful.

"Will the food last long enough?" "Not with the way you eat, Potter." "Maybe we can fish for river trout?" "Fishing? You mean catch food ourselves? From a river? That's disgusting." "Don't worry, we don't have a fishing pole anyway." "What if the weather turns foul? We don't have anything to keep the rain off." "Do you know the Impervius Charm? I used it to keep my glasses dry during Quidditch matches in the rain. Hermione taught it to me." "How immensely clever. How are your Warming Charms?" "Pretty good, actually. I can transfigure a blanket, too." "Heh, we could have used that last night." "What?" "Never mind. Can you make a pillow?" "I can try." "Have you ever gone camping?" "No. Even if they did camp, the Dursleys would never have taken me, unless it was to leave me behind for predators. What about you?"

The afternoon had remained surprisingly pleasant. Some clouds were beginning to roll in for the evening, and the slowly sinking sun was sculpting the clouds with contrasts of light and shadow. It was so peaceful that Draco could almost let himself forget just how dire his situation really was.

Each time they paused for water, Draco made Harry stay perfectly silent for a moment to listen for signs of human life, but there was still nothing. Draco knew he should be pleased by this, but the silence was eerie. On one of these stops, at about five o'clock by Draco's estimate, they had halted on the edge of a large clearing before circumnavigating it. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze rusting the treetops, stirring the tall grasses of the field. Not a single animal, no human voice.

"We're really alone," Draco whispered.

Next to him, Harry nodded, handed back the water flask, and pressed onwards.

The motion of one foot in front of the other became so automatic that it took Draco completely by surprise when Harry suddenly stopped in the middle of a thicket-like clearing.

"This is good," Harry said.

Before Draco could ask exactly what it was good for, Harry had flopped contentedly to the ground, spread-eagled, gazing up at the small patch of sky visible through the trees.

"Comfortable, Potter?" Draco asked as he settled himself against the base of a tree.

Harry pursed his lips. "It's a far cry from my four-poster at Hogwarts, but it's got more leg space than my cupboard, so I'll give it three stars."

Draco laughed lightly at the comment, before wondering what Harry had actually meant. "Cupboard?"

Harry quickly sat up, his expression guarded. "It's nothing. Pass me a piece of fruit, will you?"

Draco rolled his eyes as he handed the food sack over to Harry. It was amazing, Draco mused, the way Harry wore his heart on his sleeve, yet never really revealed anything. "Is food your answer to everything, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said before sinking his teeth into a large yellow quince. "Did Biddy pack any oatmeal raisin biscuits?" he asked around the mouthful.

"I didn't see any," Draco said flatly.

"Never mind, I've found some chocolate ones."

"Potter, you're -"

Harry interrupted him by holding out a large biscuit, and Draco caught a whiff of chocolate. "Would you like one?" he asked innocently.

Something about the image of Harry sitting there with his legs sticking out straight, offering him a biscuit, struck Draco as funny. A grin spread itself across his face without his permission, making his cheeks hurt, as he reached out and accepted Harry's offering.

He had barely taken a bite, however, when Harry broached the conversation Draco had felt approaching all day. The conversation he didn't want to have.

"So, what happened today?"

The soft bite of biscuit suddenly turned to sawdust in Draco's mouth, and it was all he could do to swallow it down his strangely dry throat. Harry was looking at him intently, and Draco felt himself trying to shrink away under the scrutiny. The nerves that had finally started to settle snapped alert, and Draco's headache returned as though it had been Summoned.

"You know what happened," Draco said flatly. "You were there."

"I saw what happened. I want to know why it happened. Why you panicked like that."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Malfoy."

Draco couldn't suppress the shudder that rippled up his back at the combination of Harry's harsh tone of voice and that name, his father's name. His mouth fell open slightly, furious that the thought of his father was causing what little composure he had left to crumble.

"Not now, Potter," Draco heard himself saying. "Please, not now."

Harry sighed, then shuffled around, and finally lay forward on his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. He looked much less threatening that way, as though the motion had closed the gap between them without actually pressing into Draco's personal space. "Listen, Malfoy..."

Draco flinched again. "What?"

"I want to know what happened," Harry said softly.

"And what if I don't want to tell you?"

Harry tipped his head sideways, considering this. "Then don't."

Draco hadn't expected that. He'd assumed Harry would keep pushing him, just as he had back in the cell. He was surprised to find that he actually wanted Harry to keep pushing, but at the same time, he didn't want to go where this conversation was leading. "But -"

"You can keep it all to yourself."

"Wait a minute - "

"And I'll just watch as it rips you apart, like it has all day."

Draco held up his hands in dismay. "What is it you want to know?"

"Your father." It wasn't a question, and that note of certainty scared Draco.

"What about him?" Draco struggled to keep his voice even.

"He's what made you panic like that."

"Potter, this is none of your business."

"He's not going to get you."

Draco's composure was already gone; all he had left to lose was his temper. "I don't want to hear this, Potter," he growled.

But Harry carried on as though he hadn't even heard him. "And you don't have to be scared of him."

That was the last straw. Draco's eyes flashed and his defences flared furiously. "You fucking bastard."

Harry seemed stunned by this odd reaction. His hands left his chin and planted onto the ground, pushing his torso up like a snake rearing. "What?

"You don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about!"

Harry seemed stunned by Draco's sudden vehemence, which was fine, because Draco didn't much feel like stopping. Words and thoughts spilled from him, fast and furious.

"You and your pretentious dribble! You don't know anything! I am NOT scared of my father! He's my father! He loves me! He only wanted the best for me, he did! It's my fault he's angry; he should be angry. He gave me everything, and I threw it all away!"

Draco could feel the hot sting behind his eyes, and he blinked it back furiously.

"Malfoy, you can't possibly think -"

"I CAN AND I DO! I may not be too thrilled with You-Know-Who, but that has nothing to do with my father! I deserted the Dark Lord, NOT MY DAD! And he does love me... he was proud of me. He said so. He was so proud of me."

Draco's palms began to feel the sharp bite of his fingernails, but he didn't dare ease his tightly clenched fists. The pain was good. If he let go of that, he'd let go of everything. Assuming he hadn't already.

Incredulity and confusion played across Harry's slack-jawed face for a moment, before he stammered out, "How can you... Malfoy, he was going to hand you over to Voldemort on a silver platter! Didn't you hear him -"

"Yes, I heard him! I heard how disappointed he was with me! You don't know my father, Potter. You can't possibly understand it, you couldn't have heard it, but I did!"

Harry was now up on his knees, taking a decidedly offensive stance. "I heard enough! I heard him call you a traitor!"

"THAT WAS GOYLE, you bastard! And you know what? He was right! And my father knows it, but he'd never say it. He still loves me -"

Harry's voice was low and angry, undercutting Draco's. "He locked you in a dungeon when you were eleven, he sent you to Voldemort, he -"

"SHUT UP! He did it all for me! FOR ME! Just because you never had parents around who cared about you -"

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry was on his feet in a flash, glaring down at Draco with a vehemence he'd only seen once before. "My parents died for me, protecting me from Voldemort. Your father would kill you for Voldemort. Think about that, why don't you?"

Draco's chest was heaving, shooting pain through his ribs to match his throbbing head, but the sight of Harry's retreating back startled him. The sudden silence was startling, save for the leaves and branches crunching under Harry's feet. Draco felt the terrifying sense of being alone pressing in on him; without Harry, he'd never make it.

"Wait... Harry."

Harry whirled around, already a good distance away. "What, Malfoy?"

Draco cringed. "Come back. If you go much further away, the charm won't protect you. You... You-Know-Who would find you immediately."

"You don't care."

Draco slowly closed and reopened his eyes. "Yes, I do."

Harry considered this for a moment; then his shoulders slumped. He walked back, looking every bit like a sullen child, and plopped himself down a few feet away from Draco, staring at the ground. "We can't work like this."

"Say again?"

"We're not going to be able to get on like this, survive the trip back to Hogwarts, if we can't even have a civil conversation."

It was everything Draco could do not to speak through gritted teeth. "Well, Potter, think about what you just said to me. Not exactly conducive to pleasant chit-chat."

"You know it needed to be said, as much as I do." Harry looked up finally. "If we're going to get along, that is."

"But it's so easy to fight. Especially over... stuff like that. Old habits die hard."

"They do," Harry said noncommittally.

Draco surveyed Harry for a long moment, then swallowed. "Listen, Potter... something I said earlier... and I'm not so sure I meant to say it at the time... but I think I did..."

"Malfoy, can you please just get to the point?"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. "That's just it. Don't call me that." He heard the leaves next to him rustle as Harry shifted position.

"I was wondering about that. What the hell were you talking about?"

"It's just... that's my father's name. I just don't want to keep hearing his name. Because every time I hear it, it..." Draco swallowed. He couldn't admit he was scared. He knew it was true, and he knew he'd deny it to his dying day. Whenever that might be. In the meantime, he needed Harry to drop the topic.

"It makes me think of how I didn't live up to it," he said finally, which was true enough. "That doesn't make much sense, does it?" He opened his eyes again, and Harry was regarding him carefully.

"No, it makes some sense, I suppose. So just what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

At that, Draco actually cracked a smile. "Oh, there are the basics. Try git, prat, arsehole, bastard. And then, I'm sure you can be creative."

"No problem, ferret-face."

Draco brought his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. "Save it for later."

"Sure, I suppose." Harry squirmed uncomfortably, as though he wasn't certain what to do with the unexpected ceasefire.

"One thing though, Potter, and I mean this." The muscles around Draco's jaw tensed. "Don't you insult my father. Not now, not ever. And don't think I won't fight you for that. He may not be perfect, like you think your father was, but he's still my dad."

Harry's neutral face fell. "Believe me, Malfoy, I don't think my father was perfect. I keep finding out, the hard way, that nobody's perfect."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Neither are you."

"I know," Harry whispered.

The silence hung heavily for a long moment before Harry finally broke it again with a cough. "I had another thing to ask you, actually. If you're up to it, that is."

Draco sighed and settled back against the tree. "Go on, Potter." He glanced up at the last traces of the sun sinking behind the trees and the far hills. "This day was just custom-made to torment me, and the day isn't quite over. Might as well get it all out of the way now."

Harry wasted no time. "What happened the night you went to meet with Voldemort?"

"I've changed my mind," Draco said quickly. "The day's almost over, and I've had enough."

Harry shook his head. "That was when you made up your mind to leave... while you were up there, with Voldemort. That's when you decided to defect. And I still want to know why."

"How could you know? That that was when I decided? When I came back down, I had to... and you wouldn't speak to me, and -"

Harry held up a hand. "You're right, at the time, I couldn't think about it clearly, but I listened to your explanation of why you had to use the curse, and then I saw the expression on your face when you mentioned your meeting with Voldemort... well... I put two and two together."

"And the sum of your brilliant equation?"

"Something happened up there."

Draco had to bite his tongue to resist responding with an emphatic DUH. Instead, he slapped his forehead lightly with his hand. "Sure. I met with his royal snakeliness. We had tea and crumpets, then we played a game of croquet in the garden. He didn't like losing, and I didn't like his attitude."

"Draco, please."

Draco sighed and thudded his head backwards against the tree, which only caused his head to throb again. He winced and closed his eyes, then slowly brought his hand up to the base of his throat. He could feel Harry's eyes on him the whole time.

"It was just like you said," Draco whispered slowly. "Exactly like you said. I don't know how you knew, but the fact that you were so dead-on the mark still scares me."

"I didn't know anything, really, I mean -"

"Don't play the humble hero, Potter. I saw enough of that bullshit in the media. Whatever your reasons for building up some horror story about You-Know-Who, you were still right about him. About me. Being used."

He swallowed, feeling the rise and fall of his throat before letting his hand drop away, exposing the healing wound there. He glanced at Harry. "You're obnoxious, you know that, Potter?"

"I do my best." He pointed towards the base of Draco's neck. "He did that to you, didn't he?"

"Not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Draco twisted his lower lip pensively. "It was a sort of test, to see if I would do anything asked of me, unquestioningly." Draco's breath caught, and his voice started to waver. "He... he held the dagger, and told me... told me to..."

In Draco's mind, he was no longer sitting in the forest with Harry, but kneeling in the room at the top of the tower, with Voldemort standing in front of him. The stones of the floor were cold and hard and they dug painfully into his knees, and at the base of his throat, the sharp bite of steel was beginning to take purchase in his skin. Everything was a haze, pressing in on him, making it hard to breathe. He was shaking, and Voldemort's eyes were piercing into him as surely as the dagger as he began to lean forward...

"Draco!"

Hands were shaking him, and the haze cleared to reveal Harry's face hovering a few inches from his face.

"Wha... huh... Harry?"

Harry leaned back and sat on his feet. He was scowling, but Draco knew the scowl wasn't directed at him. "Flashback?"

"I... I think so." Draco could feel the cold sweat dripping down his back, as though it had been far more than a figment of his tormented imagination. "But... that... it was like I was really there. That wasn't really a flashback. Not a normal one."

Harry sighed and shifted, folding his legs in front of himself. "Voldemort plays mind-games, Draco. I know that all too well. You let him mark you, and he probably burned that memory into you, just to let you know who's boss."

Draco shuddered at the thought. "Marked me," he whispered, his hand going to his throat automatically. "I don't like that."

"Heh, neither do I," Harry said dryly.

"I don't like any of this."

"Welcome to my world."

Draco shivered, only partially from the cool breezes of the evening starting to flow beneath the trees. He fell silent for a moment, trying to calm his mind. He felt as though he'd had several deep, half-healed wounds viciously reopened, and now he was waiting for the bleeding to stop again.

He'd seen too much blood recently.

And too much fighting. "You were right about one other thing, as much as I loathe to admit it," Draco said suddenly.

"Oh? What's that?"

"We really ought to stop fighting."

Harry gave a short laugh. "I think this is my world turned upside down. But yeah, if we want to make it back to Hogwarts alive," he said, a hint of a smile creeping back into his voice, "it would probably be best if we didn't kill each other on the way."

If we want to make it to Hogwarts alive.

Draco nodded to Harry as he glanced up at the sky through the thick foliage overhead, at the scant streaks of colour piercing through the thickening cast of clouds. The first full day of travel, and Draco didn't even know how far they'd really gone.

Silently, Draco reached into his pocket and withdrew the stick nestled there alongside his wand. With a deft flick of his dagger, he left a second notch in the wood, just an inch from the first one. He felt Harry's eyes on him, and without looking up, answered the unspoken question.

"Just counting the days," he said as he slid the dagger back into its sheath. He neglected to add that it was a countdown.

How far did they really have to travel? How fast? Was it even possible to reach Hogwarts in two weeks, and if it was, could anything be done to save Harry once they reached safety?

Safety. Draco silently cursed the word. Was there any such thing anymore? How far would they have to go to exceed Voldemort's grasp? Or was such a thing even possible?

"Harry... I know you would sometimes..." He paused, deliberating over his words. He didn't want to offend Harry, not this time, nor did he want to arouse suspicion. "You used to have sorts of fits, or something, with your scar. I was wondering..."

Harry, who had already begun munching on his quince again, swallowed quickly. "Just say it already, would you?"

"How far away from You-Know-Who do you have to be to get away from all that?" Draco asked in a rush. "You said last night, while we were running, that the closer you were, the more it hurt. Do you ever... get far enough away?"

The corner of Harry's mouth pulled up, but it wasn't a smile. "I think that if he's really determined, the distance is immaterial, as far as my scar is concerned. But I've dealt with it before; it won't kill me."

"No, I guess not," Draco whispered hoarsely. "You know, it was bleeding last night, your scar, that is."

At this, Harry's eyes widened slightly. "I don't think that's ever happened before, but then, he must have been pretty furious. Not much we can do about that now." He paused to settle himself against a tree, facing Draco. "Voldemort can cause a lot of trouble from a distance. Besides being a Legilimens, I'm sure he's got plenty of other nasty tricks up his sleeve, but as long as he can't physically find us, we should be okay."

"Yeah," Draco whispered, even more quietly than before.

"Are you okay, Draco?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Just a bit tired, and my head still hurts."

Harry frowned at him. "You should eat something, then get some sleep."

"Still thinking with your stomach?"

"Hey, you try the three-day dungeon starvation diet, and you'll be doing the same thing."

"Thanks, but no thanks." A deep yawn split his face.

Harry smiled at him. "Shall I transfigure you a blanket and pillow?"

"No, just a teddy bear," Draco said offhandedly as he dug into the side pouch of the sack for his cloak. He had just finished removing the Shrinking Charm and was wrapping it around his shoulders when a something soft landed in his lap. He picked it up and squinted at it in the diminishing light. "Potter, this is the ugliest teddy bear I've ever seen."

"Well, I modelled it on Pansy Parkinson. I figured a small taste of home ought to -"

Harry was abruptly interrupted by an ugly stuffed toy bouncing off his head. He caught it with a grin. "You should have been a Chaser, Draco. You've got great aim."

"Goodnight, Potter."

"I'm going to wake you up in a couple of hours, by the way."

Draco spoke as he searched for a comfortable position against the tree. "Two questions, Potter. First, aren't you going to sleep? And second, why the hell are you going to wake me up?"

"Well, first, no, not right now. I'm still hungry -"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.

"- and I don't much feel like sleeping yet. I've had plenty of sleep over the past several days, not that I had much else to do. Plus, I've got a few things on my mind."

"That's understandable," Draco conceded.

"Second, I'm waking you up to make sure that concussion isn't causing problems. I got myself a Muggle first-aid manual over the summer, and that's what it said to do for concussions. I figured that considering all the times my friends or I have been injured, that kind of knowledge would come in pretty handy eventually." He sighed, suddenly sounding very tired.

"I did a lot of preparing this past summer, actually, and a lot of thinking," Harry said, seeming to be talking more to himself than to Draco. "There wasn't much else I could do while I was stuck at my aunt and uncle's place. At least they left me alone for a change, and I decided to use the time to make myself as ready as I could be for... whatever I'd need to be ready for. I was sick of not being ready, of always relying on other people's stupidity. Some people almost got killed because of that. Other people did die."

Harry fell silent, and Draco decided that it was best to leave him alone with his thoughts. His own head hurt, and sleep had been calling him for hours, nerves be damned. He was too tired to care that he was still a filthy mess, but he did make a mental note to use some proper Cleaning Charms in the morning. As he was pulling his cloak up to his chin and closing his eyes, something soft bounced against his leg.

He opened one eye and peeked down.

Harry had tossed the teddy bear back over to him. With an inward chuckle, he reached down under his cloak, picked up the bear, and tucked the hideous thing under his arm.

*********

Draco was sure he'd fallen asleep, and the surreal sensations of everything around him agreed with that assessment, but something told him that he was as awake as he'd ever been.

He was surrounded by a darkness so thick he could feel it pressing in on him. The blackness was a solid thing, and it filled his eyes, nose, and throat, compressing his lungs and stifling him. He tried to suck in a deep breath, and while he knew that somewhere, in his body, he was breathing, his present awareness told him there wasn't any air for him to breathe.

He fought back panic and tried to assess his situation. Some instinct told him that he was in a very large space, but the darkness made that irrelevant. When he tried to call out, even his voice was swallowed immediately by the vacuum. Beneath him, he was certain there was a floor of some sort, but when he tried to reach down; his hands never came into contact with anything, not even his own feet.

The terror finally overwhelmed him. Screaming into the silence, he tried to run with legs he didn't have, crying tears he couldn't feel, desperate to escape the blackness. But after running for an unknown length of time, he was still trapped in the middle of the void.

He was crumbling to knees he didn't have when a harsh, high laugh echoed all around him.

He recognized that laugh.

Voldemort.

Hidden by the darkness, Draco knew he was on naked display for the Dark Lord, and there was nothing he could do. Trapped.

"Young traitor," the voice rumbled all around him. "Did you honestly think you could escape the great Lord Voldemort?"

Draco turned frantically in place (or he thought he was turning), automatically searching for the source of the voice.

"Fool. Such a fool. And all for nothing."

"No," Draco whispered silently. "Oh no..."

"Ah, then you know already that it is too late for Potter. I do not know if that makes you more or less foolish."

Draco's voice was frozen in his throat, not that it mattered.

"I am feeling... generous towards you, Malfoy. Not many in your position would find themselves so fortunate, but your name and your previous accomplishments have earned you a chance. ONE CHANCE."

There was a low, rumbling laugh, and Draco wasn't so sure he wanted to hear the proposition. His mind was spinning, and the total lack of visual references was making him nauseous.

"Return Potter to me, Malfoy, and I will spare your life. If you accept your punishments with dignity, you may even regain some favour. Let it not be said that Lord Voldemort is not gracious. However, should you continue on your fool's errand, you will die a fool's death."

Draco's heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he opened and closed his mouth in wordless, soundless syllables, desperately trying to breathe.

"You can not save him, Malfoy. But you could save yourself. A true Slytherin knows the art of self-preservation. Consider this carefully."

The line between Voldemort's booming voice and Draco's own thoughts began to blur. It was all pounding into his head, echoing, thundering. In confusion and shock, Draco slammed his hands over his ears, desperate to block it out, but the sounds were already in his head, spinning in circles, making him dizzy.

The voice was painful, the darkness oppressive. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe; he was suffocating, dying. His head throbbed mercilessly, and he vaguely wondered when Harry was going to wake him up as he'd promised.

Draco tried to pull himself awake, and for a moment, he almost thought he'd succeeded. There was a faint greyness, vividly bright against the stark nothingness around him, but it was too far away. He tried one last time to cry out for help before the void took him, but again, his voice was lost in the darkness.

*********

Harry had been finishing a chocolate biscuit when a gasping noise from Draco brought his vigilant watch of the surrounding forest to an abrupt halt.

"Draco?" Harry whispered hesitantly. There was no response, and Harry couldn't see Draco's face easily through the shadows. He heard a second pained gasp, and Harry dropped the last bite of biscuit and quickly crawled to Draco's side.

Even in the twilight, Harry could see that Draco had gone dreadfully pale. He was completely rigid against the tree, and his face was warped in an expression of sheer terror. His eyes were shut, but it looked as though he was struggling to open them.

"Draco!" Harry grasped his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Hey, can you hear me? Draco?"

Draco began opening and closing his mouth, as though trying to speak, or possibly just breathe, but no sound escaped him. Harry was just considering dumping a flask of water over his face when Draco suddenly kicked out, flailing, the actions of a drunken man trying to run.

"No! Draco, don't! Stop!"

He tried to stop the kicking, to keep Draco from hurting himself, but he only succeeded in receiving a solid blow to the shoulder and another to the stomach. He sat back, feeling his heart thudding nervously in his chest. It seemed there was nothing he could do but watch Draco's nightmare play itself out, and hope he was okay. With a flash of insight, Harry realized how people must feel watching him when he had visions of Voldemort.

Then the next obvious conclusion hit him.

Voldemort. No, he couldn't... not Draco! This sort of thing only happens to me!

After nearly a minute, although it seemed like much longer, Draco became still. He lay curled up on his side, breathing laboriously.

Harry scrambled over to him and rolled him onto his back. Draco's face was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, and every muscle in his body was tense and shaking.

"Draco? Come on, say something! Merlin's beard, wake up! Answer me!"

He didn't expect any answers, even when Draco's mouth began moving again. Harry stared at him helplessly, when suddenly, very faint words formed on Draco's lips, barely a whisper.

"No... oh no..."

Some of the violent rigidity drained away from Draco's body, but it was less like relaxation and more like a collapse, even though he was already on the ground. He was breathing convulsively, as though he couldn't get enough air. Harry scooped Draco into a semi-upright position against his own legs to try to ease his breathing. He wrapped his hand around Draco's wrist, feeling the weak, rapid pulse. If Harry had only suspected it before, he was now positive: Draco was under some sort of attack. It seemed that Harry wasn't the only person whose mind Voldemort could invade.

At a loss of anything else to do, Harry grasped Draco's hand. It was terribly cold, and Harry absently began kneading it, trying to work some warmth and circulation back into Draco's fingers.

Then Draco whispered again. Harry had to lean in close to hear it.

"Can't save him... save yourself... consider... carefully...."

He fell silent again, save for his strained gasping for air. Harry watched fearfully as Draco's breathing became progressively more shallow. In the darkening twilight his skin looked pale enough to be translucent. Harry shifted Draco again and laid a hand across his chest, feeling the weak rise and fall of his lungs, the faint beating of his heart.

"Come on, Draco, wake up!" He gave Draco another quick shake, but the futility of the attempt only made him more desperate. He rubbed his hand across Draco's thin chest, feeling his own anxiety grow as each breath became weaker, as if Draco was being suffocated slowly.

"You have to wake up, Draco." Harry gritted his teeth against the hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him. "You promised that we're going to make it back together, and damn it, Malfoy, I'm holding you to that!"

Draco gave a sudden twitch, and his eyes opened narrowly.

"Draco!"

But the narrow slits of grey didn't seem to see him, or to see anything for that matter. They blinked once, twice, very slowly, as though trying to peer through a thick fog.

"Help... me..." Draco croaked weakly, an instant before his eyes fell shut again and his body went limp.

*********

Lights go out and I can't be saved,
Tides that I tried to swim against.
You've put me down upon my knees,
Oh I beg, I beg and plead.
Come out of things unsaid, Shoot an apple of my head.
Trouble that can't be named, Tigers waiting to be tamed.
(~Coldplay)