Eclipse

Chapter 11

Mountains and Valleys

The sun was high overhead, casting a brownish-green hue through the trees. The shade may have appeared cool, but it offered little protection against the midday heat. The thick foliage under the canopy seemed to have stopped all traces of breeze. Warm, moist air clung to the skin, and the trek out of the valley was steeper than it had appeared. Hot days, cold nights and vicious terrain. Time and fatigue had long worn away the thrill of escape, and had left them with nothing but the bleak reality of the situation: they still had a long way to go. For two days, Harry had traded off the lead with Draco, neither wanting to be the one to make the cruel decision to veer south up the mountains as the valley had trailed off slowly to the west. Finally, on the third morning, Harry had made the call, which had permitted Draco to partake in his favourite activity: complaining.

For once, Harry grudgingly felt that Draco had a right to complain. After three days of trudging through the local landscape uninterrupted, Harry had to admit to himself that he was becoming sick of it, too. Not that he was going to let Draco know. Still, despite Harry's own fatigue, it seemed that Draco was faring far worse than he was.

Harry sighed deeply as he used the trunks of saplings to pull himself up a steep incline, and glanced over at Draco, whose face was shining with exertion. The greenish tint from the trees only made Draco's poor colouring appear worse, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look physically abused. Harry suspected that even if Draco had been less fatigued, he still wouldn't have had an easy time climbing a mountain. He really wasn't the outdoor type. Harry was still feeling the after-effects of his captivity, and was more than willing to maintain a slow pace. Which, in a mixed blessing, gave Draco just enough wind left over to talk. He was rather good at talking, Harry supposed, depending on one's point of view. When Draco had finally exhausted his complaints, which took the better part of an hour, he returned to his seemingly interminable list of random topics.

"When I was six years old, my nurse told me there were fairy rings up north here."

"Really?" Harry asked automatically, knowing that Draco was going to elaborate regardless. It had become a pattern over the past two days. Draco would begin with a grandiose pronouncement about some obscure magical thing. Harry would then feign nonchalance, but would really listen intently as Draco revealed yet another fascinating titbit about the wizarding world.

There was surely a lot to learn; things far beyond the transfiguration tricks Harry had memorized and completely different from Hermione's world of books and parchments. There was an entire depth of the magical world which Harry hadn't realized existed. It was about seeing everything in terms of magic first, physical second; something that Harry still hadn't fully grasped, even after more than five years in the wizarding world. The perspective was enthralling, and Harry found himself wishing that he'd been raised like that, to understand things in a way that he knew he'd never fully grasp now. He could almost understand why some people would want so desperately to ensure that all wizards and witches were raised by wizards and witches, and the desire to keep Muggle influences away.

Almost.

If nothing else, he could listen to Draco now, and try to learn what he could. Besides, talking seemed to keep Draco going.

"Well, she really told me that, but I always figured Matilda was just an old bat. She liked to tell stories," Draco explained as he ducked under a branch. "Fairies like warmer climates than this, and I've never heard of a reliable sighting of a true fairy ring. Hence the term 'fairy tales', if you ask me."

"And you brought this up why?" Harry asked neutrally.

"Don't really know - watch your head - but I guess the landscape here looked like how she'd described it, and it just reminded me."

"Aha!" said Harry as he dodged another low branch.

"What?"

"If the landscape is making you think of fairy rings, then you must be starting to like it." Harry smirked back over his shoulder at him as Draco batted the branch out of his way.

Draco's expression fell flat. "Don't push your luck. This damn molehill is more than enough mountain. I hate this. 'We have to climb out of the valley,' you said. Why the hell couldn't we have just waited until the valley ran its course?"

"Because last time I checked, we were trying to reach Hogwarts," Harry said lightly. "And for that, we have to travel south, not west."

"The valley might have turned south again." Draco snorted. "Gryffindors. No patience."

"You know as well as I do that there was no sign of the valley turning south. I just hope we haven't gone too far off course already."

"We haven't." Draco paused for a second, then scowled sullenly. "I want my broom."

"Well, let's see your best Summoning Charm, and we'll be at Hogwarts by nightfall."

"Shut up, Potter," Draco said, but his voice was tired, not malicious.

"Just kidding, Draco."

"I know." He sighed. "So was I."

Harry hung his head for a moment. Every so often, Draco would say something in that exhausted tone. It sounded so hollow, not even like Draco's own voice, that it made Harry want to shiver. He didn't know why it bothered him so much.

Harry observed Draco critically as they manoeuvred through a small hillside ravine. He really wasn't having an easy time of anything, and Harry supposed that he'd been fairly resilient, all things considered. He'd had no more true visions, but Harry had awoken several times each night to Draco moaning and whimpering pitifully, caught in some rather nasty nightmares. Draco claimed he couldn't remember any details, and Harry had let it go at that. He knew what it was like to be on Draco's end of the situation. The last thing he had wanted was for people to plague him with questions; therefore, he wouldn't inflict it on Draco. In all honesty, it was really bizarre to watch things happening to Draco that usually only happened to himself. It also left him feeling oddly guilty. As though he actually cared. Which he did, he had to admit. Maybe.

It was strange though. Regardless of their truce, their cooperation, and even the fact that they were sleeping back-to-back under the same cloak each night, something wasn't quite right about this almost-friendship. In the absence of immediate danger, Harry was finding himself thinking sometimes about exactly who he was travelling with. True, Draco had taken a very decisive step away from his old loyalties. Yet the nagging sense of caring Harry had developed was rivalled by an underlying distrust that he couldn't quite shake. He couldn't fully believe that Draco had completely severed his loyalties in such a short time.

Draco was still loyal to his father; he'd said so. He was also plainly terrified of the man. That made Harry just a bit nervous. Then, there was his face. It was still Malfoy's face: the same face he'd known from Hogwarts, which sneered and scowled and smirked maliciously, impossible to ignore. Yes, Draco smiled and even laughed, and it seemed authentic... but it still felt out of place. And finally, every so often, Draco would say something odd, in an unreadable tone of voice - that hollow tone he'd just used - as though he were hiding something from Harry. That made Harry the most uncomfortable of all.

Despite Harry's discomfort with the situation, he had no real choice in the matter. And really, Draco wasn't that unpleasant. All things considered, they seemed to get along quite well. Exceedingly well, actually.

And perhaps that was the real problem. He and Draco Malfoy weren't supposed to be friends. But for all intents and purposes, that was what it felt like. It was a very convincing feeling, too. Sometimes, he almost felt as though they'd been good friends... very good friends... for a long time. It was completely wrong, but right now, it was what they both needed. No sense in upsetting anything now.

"So," Harry continued as casually as he could, "tell me about fairy rings?"

Draco rolled his eyes theatrically, forcing Harry to hide a snicker. "Demanding, aren't you?"

"You brought it up. It's only fair for you to finish the topic."

"Fine. But only if we get to stop for a breather. This hill will be the death of me."

"There are plenty more where this came from."

"Yes, but if we don't stop and rest, I won't make it to the next one." Draco grabbed a small sapling and pulled himself up another step. "And what in Merlin's name would you do without me for company?"

Harry stopped just short of Draco and studied him critically. "Well... I suppose there would be more biscuits left for me..."

"Potter!"

"Relax, Draco," Harry said easily as he leaned backwards against a tree. "I guess I must need you around for something. I mean, without you, who would carry my biscuits?"

Harry didn't have time to duck before the travel pack hit him in the face. He caught it awkwardly, laughing as Draco glowered.

"That's what we're supposed to have house-elves for. To carry my things for me," Draco muttered. "And you had to let mine go."

"Well," Harry said slowly as he rummaged in the sack, "we needed to get word to Dumbledore. Who knows? Dumbledore might be hot on our trail somehow. He could find us any minute and you could be lying in your nice warm bed by tonight." He reached into the travel sack up to his shoulder, rummaging for one of the remaining roast-beef sandwiches. "And how the hell does food stay fresh in this thing? I'd meant to ask you, but I forgot."

Draco snorted. "I'm not going to get into a fight with you about Dumbledore, but whatever you say, I still don't put that much faith in him... for anything. And the pack has a food-preserving charm on it. Biddy would have put the charm on it while she packed it. I just wish she'd packed some sort of main course besides sandwiches. Maybe some roast chicken. If this hill doesn't kill me, the lack of variety in our food surely will."

"Aaaahaaaa," Harry said slowly as he dug out a sandwich.

Draco snickered. "I wonder how Muggles manage to keep food fresh. Must be impossible... and rather smelly."

"Actually... they use refrigerators," Harry said simply as he handed a sandwich to Draco.

"Refrige-what?"

It was Harry's turn to smirk. "These large box-like things that keep food cold or frozen, so it doesn't go bad. You have to plug them into an electrical outlet to make them work, though, so I suppose that wouldn't do us much good out here in the middle of nowhere." He stuffed a large bite of the sandwich into his mouth.

"Eklecric-what?"

Harry smiled around his sandwich, swallowed, and launched into an explanation of the most fundamental Muggle technology. By the time he was done, Draco had become thoroughly engrossed in watching a beetle crawling across a rock, and Harry had finished his sandwich.

"So, you've got to admit," Harry prodded, "some of this stuff is pretty clever. No magic, and they manage to do all that."

Draco grunted noncommittally.

"Just admit it, Draco. Muggles can be rather clever."

Without glancing up, Draco replied, "Okay, so maybe Muggles are just far enough north of stupid to make up for some of their other shortcomings."

"Yup." Harry adjusted the strap of the pack on his shoulder.

"But..." Draco looked up at Harry mischievously. "Can they do this?"

Before Harry could move, Draco had flicked his wand at the tree above him. There was a sudden WHOOSH! overhead, and before he could react, Harry found himself buried in a mound of leaves up to his neck. For a long moment, he didn't move, glaring at Draco, who smiled at him sweetly, the picture of innocence. Then Harry glanced up briefly to observe the naked tree above him. When he finally opened his mouth to tell off his travelling companion, he burst into a fit of sneezing. Which only made Draco laugh.

"You should see the look on your face!"

"I swear, Malfoy, I will get you back for this."

"Whatever you say, Potter."

"I say get me out of this shit," Harry said flatly.

"Only if you promise not to kill me. I've already got one magical maniac out for my blood. No need for another."

"Draco..."

"Fine. You're no fun."

But even as he spoke, Draco was obviously struggling to suppress a grin, which matched the one threatening to spread across Harry's face. Harry had discovered that Draco had a bizarre mischievous streak which seemed to appear at the most random times; it was unexpected, but refreshingly enjoyable. He'd had no idea about that side of Draco. And Harry had to admit, it was things like that which made him feel like they were actually friends. It came so naturally, and Harry really wasn't quite sure what he thought of it.

A few minutes later, they were moving again, this time with Draco in the lead. Harry was still pulling leaves out of his clothes as he walked.

"Maybe from the top of this ridge, we'll be able to see Hogwarts in the distance,"
Draco said thoughtfully. "I mean, the North Tower is really tall, right?"

"Not that tall, I don't think."

"Oh."

Another few minutes passed.

"Harry... do you really think Dumbledore will find us?"

Harry thought about that carefully. "I don't think he'll give up until he does."

"Oh."

"Are you afraid the biscuits will run out?" Harry asked lightly, but in a way which would let Draco know he was opening the conversation for any worry Draco might have. He waited as Draco kept walking stoically onwards, not once glancing back.

Finally, barely audible over the crunching leaves, Draco said, "No."

Harry grimaced at the undertone of Draco's voice. "We've only been travelling for four days -"

"Four and a half. Almost five."

"Okay, almost five. I mean, either Dumbledore will find us, or we'll get there on foot. Not a problem. That is, unless you're worried about being late for class, but if that's the case, we've probably already bankrupted our houses of points for tardiness."

At that, Draco visibly cringed. Harry cocked his head in confusion. That was one of those odd things which made Harry wonder what Draco was hiding. Every mention of time seemed to cause an odd reaction in Draco. It was as if he were in a rush, but didn't want to show it. Certainly, they both wanted to get home, but Draco was behaving very strangely. Harry was so busy trying to figure out Draco's peculiar reaction that he ran face-first into a low branch.

"OUCH!" He staggered back holding his forehead.

Draco glanced back with a bemused expression. "Adding another scar to the collection?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. "No," he said coldly, and stopped rubbing his forehead.

Draco nodded, his face becoming unreadable, and turned back to watch where he was walking. Harry rubbed again at the rapidly forming lump on his forehead.

"By the way, Harry... has your scar been hurting at all lately? I mean... you said it hurts when You-Know-Who -"

"Voldemort."

" - is angry. Has it been? Or dreams? I heard you used to get dreams from him."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but caught himself and frowned. "Actually, no. It hasn't hurt since that first night. Why?"

Draco shook his head without looking back. "Just curious."

Harry tried to figure out what Draco was getting at. "Maybe the Mislocator blocks him somehow...?"

"Think about it, Harry. If that were true, then he wouldn't have been able to reach me."

"Oh. Well... maybe it's the distance. We're getting farther away."

"Potter, do you think before you speak?" Draco snapped, glancing back over his shoulder for a brief moment.

"Yes! I'm trying to figure -"

"Then think about what causes it to hurt. You've told me yourself."

Harry stopped short with his mouth hanging open. Here he was, being lectured by Draco Malfoy about his own scar. Scarhead. He sighed and started walking again. "When Voldemort is angry or -"

"There's your answer, genius."

"You're saying that Voldemort isn't angry?" Harry snapped as he swatted a branch aside. "That's ridiculous. I'm sure he's just as furious with our escape as he was that first night, and he's just refusing to let us know how angry he is. Biding his time. Probably trying to shake your confidence. Or to confuse us."

Draco shook his head. "Never mind, Harry. Maybe I'm just paranoid." His shoulders slumped. "And tired. And maybe you're right, and Dumbledore will find us. Even though he is an old goat." There was no malice in his voice. In fact, it was almost becoming that hollow tone that Harry hated.

Harry tried to scowl at Draco, but only managed a tired smirk. Even though he was growing concerned about Draco's enigmatic behaviour, and just a little bit irritated, he couldn't help but notice how Draco's sarcastic sense of humour was growing on him. In a strange way, he was starting to appreciate it. Enjoy it, even. Hermione was only sarcastic when she was being contrary and trying to force him to study at a weekend. Ron... Harry wondered if the concept of sarcasm went completely over Ron's head.

Harry sighed and his smirk fell to a faint frown. Ron and Hermione. He'd see his friends again. No amount of wit, banter and clever sarcasm could ever replace his best friends, but thinking of them only made it hurt more. He shook his head as though he could shake the loneliness out through his ears, and looked back up at Draco.

"So... you got your breather. Tell me about fairy rings?"

*********

Fairy rings were apparently one of those things that were the stuff of myth in both the wizarding world, and much to Draco's surprise, the Muggle world. How the Muggles would know anything about such things, he could only guess, seeing as wizards had enough trouble deciding what was real. There'd never been a reliable sighting. Still, from the unofficial reports that did exist, there were plenty of interesting theories.

"Well," Draco said slowly, "they're supposed to form in open fields, or near water, and only at night. They say a single circle has hundreds of fairies at once, flying in a slow dance just above the ground."

"Must be pretty impressive," Harry said lightly as he adjusted the travel pack on his shoulder.

"If they're real, I'm sure they are," Draco said, trying not to sound wistful.

"Too bad we'll never see one then."

Draco felt a mild flash of annoyance at Harry's casual dismissal. He'd wanted to see a fairy ring ever since Maltilda had told him about the phenomenon as a bedtime story. "Well, you'll certainly never see one because you don't think they're real, so you have no worries there."

Harry looked over at him with a strange smile. "You think they're real."

"So what if I do?" Draco swallowed nervously. Most witches and wizards stopped talking about such nonsense long before they went to Hogwarts, but Harry didn't know anything about them, so he'd have no reason to laugh. Would he?

"Well, if nobody's seen one -"

"Harry, just because there have been no 'officially' reliable sightings doesn't mean nobody's seen them," Draco said flatly. "The people who report them have just never had proof, so the Ministry won't certify the reports."

"You make it sound like you wish they were real." There was a lilt to Harry's voice this time; it was hopeful.

"Who wouldn't?" Draco blurted. "They're supposed to be incredible. Some people say that being inside a fairy ring brings out your inner feelings or thoughts, and sweeps you away, almost like being drunk on the magic."

Harry was watching him carefully as he spoke, and by the thoughtful look on his face, Draco could see that he was giving it serious consideration. Then the look was quickly veiled over with a tired smirk. "Heh... I could use a stiff drink right about now."

"Now that would be funny. Two mythical sights at once: fairy rings, and Harry Potter, drunk."

"I bet you're a lightweight, Malfoy."

Draco quickly cleared his throat. "Er, as I was saying... other things... hmm..." He thought quickly for any random thing he'd ever heard about fairy rings. A sudden grin spread across his face. "Some people say you can't approach one unless you're a virgin. So I guess you still have a chance, Potter."

"Well then, that makes two of us, doesn't it?" Harry said with a laugh.

Draco coughed once. "Yes, well..."

"Ha! You just admitted it!"

Draco's face fell. "Shit!"

"It's okay, Draco. I won't tell anyone... but if I ever need to blackmail -"

"Potter!"

Discussion of fairy rings led to talk of elves and gnomes. Draco found every gap in Harry's knowledge immensely amusing. Sure, Harry had pulled random charms and transfigurations out of his memory, and it was rather impressive on the spur of the moment... not that Draco would ever admit to being impressed... but it was amazing how many things that Draco had taken for granted were completely unknown to Harry. He apparently had no idea that there were four races of elves and at least eleven types of gnomes in northern Europe alone, although he didn't seem surprised to find that all the gnomes were considered common pests.

Annoying little buggers, gnomes, he'd said, absently massaging his finger.

From there, conversation shifted to various creatures found in the forest, and Draco once again found himself stuck on a topic where he was desperately lacking information: dangerous or deadly magical creatures. He almost wished he'd paid some attention to that great oaf Hagrid. It was strange, though; wherever Draco's knowledge had a gap, Harry seemed able to fill it. It was as if their experience and knowledge complemented each other's; they were stronger together than separately. Draco didn't want to dwell on the fact, but he had to admit, they made a good team.

Maybe.

There was something about the notion that they did make a good team that bothered Draco. It was enjoyable. It was fun. Harry was actually a good companion. And that was why it was all wrong. They weren't supposed to be like this. And in the meantime, Draco's old loyalties lay behind him, across miles of miserable terrain. Not that he would - or could - ever go back. Self-preservation, of course. But his father and mother... he knew he'd never be able to see them again, and that fact sat in the pit of his stomach like a large rock. Even worse, his father would never respect him. Those were consequences of his actions that he'd not thought through beforehand.

In essence, he'd traded his parents for Harry Potter. At the time, it had seemed like the only choice. It had to be the right decision; he couldn't be wrong. Not after all he had gone through. And if he were to have to face the situation again, he knew he would make the same choice. The thing that bothered him most was why he'd done it. When it all came down to the raw facts, yes, Harry had had something to do with his decision (although he wasn't sure quite what), and yes, he'd decided he didn't want to be the Dark Lord's puppet, but mostly, he'd left because he was scared. Not the best reason to do anything. In fact, it was a bloody awful reason.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the hopelessness of the situation. They might still get caught. And even if they didn't, it might still be too late for Harry.

Draco shook his head at the thought. In every quiet moment they'd had, Draco had been considering the possibility of a counter-curse, only to frustrate himself. He couldn't do it. Snape could. Maybe Dumbledore. But as much as he prided himself on his abilities in Potions, Draco knew he was still just a student. And his lack of a solution was proof of that. And on top of everything, he still hadn't told Harry.

With a sigh, Draco tried to push that train of thought from his mind.

"What sorts of things do you figure are out in the woods here?" Draco asked, trying to keep his tone light. "I mean, we hear creatures moving at night, but they haven't come near us. Do you suppose there's a reason why?"

"Because you smell bad," Harry said so seriously that Draco felt heat rising in his cheeks before he noticed Harry smirking.

"Arsehole. No, seriously, there has to be a reason." Draco grunted as he pulled himself up over a rocky outcropping. "Animals are bloodthirsty, mindless things that would surely love nothing more than to sink their teeth into a tasty morsel like me. Even the plain, non-magical ones, although they surely wouldn't appreciate me for all my finer attributes. You, however... no wonder you feel safe. You're probably too stringy."

"Draco, only you would find some sort of merit in being more likely to be eaten."

"Don't be jealous, oh stringy one."

"Well, if you're so juicy," Harry mused in a thoughtful tone, "and the variety of food in the pack is getting dull, maybe I could just add you to the menu. Roast Draco."

"Potter, you're one sick bastard."

"Sleep with one eye open, Malfoy."

Draco snorted his distaste and shifted the subject. Maybe they'd just been out in the sun too long, or hadn't had enough sleep, but the idea of "roast Draco" was too weird, on many levels. Even for Harry. "So, why do you really think the animals have left us alone?"

There was silence for a moment, save for the huff of breathing and the crunching of dead leaves and sticks.

"Maybe they avoid magic... the non-magical creatures, I mean. It might repel them, just like magic creatures usually avoid Muggles."

Draco considered this. "If that's true, then we're safe from non-magic creatures, but what about the magic ones? What if we run into one of Hagrid's bust-bottomed skewers?"

"Bust... what? Blast-Ended Skrewts?"

Draco gritted his teeth and nodded, only to find himself more irritated when Harry laughed.

"We won't. They were a hybrid... Hagrid bred them. We won't find them in the wild."

"Sure... unless Hagrid decided that he needed to populate the earth with them."

Harry appeared thoughtful for a moment. "No, because he wouldn't be able to bear parting with them."

That actually made Draco laugh before thoughts of other nasty creatures sobered him. "What about Hinkypunks...or Red Caps? Or vampires? Or werewolves?

"We went over all that in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin taught it... but you probably didn't care to listen to him either, did you?"

Draco flinched at the accusatory tone in Harry's voice. "Okay, Potter. I asked for advice, not a lecture."

"We'll just deal with them when the time comes." Harry huffed once. "And as for werewolves, we won't need to worry about that until the full moon."

Draco almost choked - the night of the full moon was the night of the eclipse - but he swallowed the thought. "Well, we have plenty of time, then, don't we?"

"Sure," Harry said easily, just before he half-tripped over a rock.

Draco snickered. "Your beautiful landscape is tripping you up now, is it?"

Harry scowled at him. "So I'm tired. Just try to tell me you're not. And speaking of creatures, maybe we'll get lucky and encounter a Hippogriff."

Caught off-guard by the sudden mental image of his last encounter with one of those beasts, this time, Draco did choke. "Are you completely mad, Potter!?" He whipped around, almost stumbling himself. "I know you think they're pets, but I don't have a death wish!"

Harry chuckled, obviously enjoying the memory, much to Draco's chagrin. "No, I figure a Hippogriff could give us a ride back to Hogwarts." He grunted as he climbed over a fallen log. "Not as smooth as a broomstick, but faster than this."

Draco felt his eyes go wide. "After being slashed - almost killed - by one of those malicious brutes!? There is no way in the name of bloody Merlin's beard that I would be caught dead on the back of one of those beasts."

Harry shrugged. "All you'd need to do is to turn on some of that infamous Malfoy congeniality. Personally, I'd rather fly over the forest than crawl through it. Especially when we reach the Forbidden Forest. If we're going to run into any of those creatures, it'll be there. I have no idea how long we'll be travelling in the Forest itself, if we end up walking the whole way."

"Do you know where the regular forest ends and the Forbidden Forest starts?"

"And how the hell would I know that?"

"I don't know, Potter. I'm just asking. You seemed to spend a lot of time out there." Draco took a deep breath, grasped a branch, and pulled himself up another sharp incline. "Maybe we'll see it from here when we reach the top of this bloody mountain. If we ever do reach the top."

"We're almost there, you know. The trees are getting thinner up here."

Draco blinked and looked around. Harry was right. The trees were shorter, and they were more spaced out. There appeared to be a clearing up ahead.

"I'll bet that's it!" Harry exclaimed. "Race you to the top."

Draco shook his head. "Not interested. I'm already exhausted and sore. Do you want me exhausted, sore, AND bad-tempered?"

"You're already bad-tempered too, so that won't be any great loss."

"Potter!"

"Come on, it'll be like a race for the Snitch. After last year, I miss the competition."

"Not a chance."

Harry considered this. "Sure, Draco. Because, just like at Quidditch, you'd lose anyway."

Before Draco could blink, Harry had taken off up the hill, kicking up leaves at Draco in his wake. "Potter! You... that's not fair! POTTER!"

Draco took a deep breath and raced off after him. His hair flopped forward into his eyes, branches whipped against his legs, and all he could think of was keeping his eye on the red of Harry's sweater, and making sure it didn't get any farther away.

I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, OUCH, my bloody toe! I hate this, I hate this, I'm going to KILL you when we get to the top, Potter! I hate this, I hate...

Oh my great dragon's egg and bloody Merlin's beard.

If Draco had had any spare breath, he would have said it aloud. From the top of the mountain, the entire world seemed to spread out at his feet. A cool breeze pushed his sweaty, stringy hair back off his forehead, giving him an unhindered view of endless mountains, valleys, and the occasional sparkle of water. The sky was a pale blue at the horizon, changing to a deeper shade directly overhead, without a cloud in the sky. It was... beautiful. And then the throbbing in his toe and the burning in his overburdened lungs reminded him that such thoughts were crazy. But still...

"I win."

Draco coughed once and looked over at Harry. Harry's cheeks had a bright pink flush, his eyes were wide, and his mouth was open in a great smile, even as he gasped for air. Despite the ache in his lungs, Draco was barely able to suppress a smile at Harry's enthusiasm. He had the same look he would get whenever he grabbed a Snitch out from under Draco's nose. It used to make Draco want to punch his face in. Now, it didn't seem quite the same.

"I wasn't racing anyway," Draco said simply. "So you won. What good does that do you?"

"It's my mountain now. Mount Potter."

"Whatever."

Draco squinted and scanned the horizon. Civilization. Safety. Not a sign of either. He felt a twinge of sadness and isolation. He'd hoped that the farther he got from his father and the more time he spent with Harry, the more those feelings would fade, but they hadn't. Once again, they flooded back fresh. Still, he knew that dwelling on it would do him no good. He forced a deep breath through the pain in his lungs. "Do you see any sign of Hogwarts? Or smoke from Hogsmeade?"

"Not a trace of either. Could be hidden by a mountain."

"Could be." Draco stood on tiptoe, knowing how pointless that was. To the visible horizon, there was still no sign of a town or people. The civilized world seemed so far away. He glanced back over his shoulder at the valley that spread out behind them. He had no idea how far they'd come, nor how far they still had to cover. He couldn't imagine that the travelling would be very fast over the terrain ahead of them. "How far is a hundred miles supposed to look?"

"Couldn't tell you," Harry said airily. "But from up here on beautiful Mount Potter, a hundred miles seems like nothing more than a mere walk in the park."

"You're nuts."

"You're just sore because you don't have your own mountain."

"My feet are sore, my legs are sore, and my head is rapidly becoming sore. I think I'm allergic to your senseless enthusiasm."

Harry's smile softened. "Well, it's all downhill for a while, and I'll guess that we'll make camp somewhere in that valley over there -" He pointed. " - tonight."

"Only that far?" Draco felt an ache of nervousness in the centre of his chest.

"I think so. Look at how thick the forest is. Slow travel. Plus, it's already afternoon." Harry jerked his head towards the valley ahead. "Might as well get going. I think I see a river down there. We'll camp near the river tonight. Maybe we can catch a fish for dinner."

"How disgusting."

"Fine," Harry said as he started downhill. "I'll have fresh food, and you can have another sandwich. I think we've got an excess of corned beef."

"Well... I... I'm not touching the fish until it's cooked."

Harry's laugh rang out across the valley.

*********

The sun was approaching the rim of the valley by the time they made camp by the river. Draco felt torn between the need to press on as far as possible each day and the soreness and exhaustion that insisted he rest. Harry seemed tired too, and Draco knew that if he pushed the issue too much, Harry would become suspicious. So Draco sat on the bank of the river while Harry splashed around trying to catch a fish by hand. He wasn't having much luck.

"Too bad you couldn't properly transfigure a fishing stick, Harry."

"It's a fishing pole, Draco - ugh!" He lunged for a fish, and again came up empty-handed. "Besides - nnynngh! - I saw bears doing this on a documentary my cousin was watching."

"And are you smarter than the average bear?"

Harry started laughing so suddenly that he slipped on a rock and crashed into the water. He continued to laugh as he pulled himself to his feet, dripping wet.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. It's... that was a Muggle joke," Harry choked out amid his laughter. "You wouldn't get it unless you already knew."

Curious though he was, Draco was getting a bit tired of the seemingly endless Muggle things Harry hinted at - it was like a blurry window into a world he didn't understand... or possibly a brick wall with a few missing blocks. Still, he wasn't about to appear too curious about Muggle culture, so he leaned back and sighed. "Whatever. Are you ever going to catch us a fish?"

"Of course - hold on... there's a big one... just a second... closer... URGH!" Once again, he came up empty-handed. "Damn it!"

Draco snickered. "Potter, there is an easier way."

"Really now?" Harry planted his fists on his hips. "And are you going to come down here and transfigure me a fishing pole? Get your feet wet?"

Draco stood with a grand flourish. "Get my feet wet? Merlin, no! Harry, you're not thinking like a wizard. Have I taught you nothing?" He made a grand show of clearing his throat, pulled his wand from his pocket, and aimed at the part of the river where Harry had been looking a moment before.

"ACCIO FISH!"

A split second later, a large river trout was flopping around at Draco's feet. He screwed his nose up. "Okay, Harry. I got the fish. Now you get up here and cook it."

Harry didn't move for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open, eyes glinting with a slight murderous edge. Draco didn't know whether to snicker, or to run for safety. Finally, Harry shook his head and splashed out of the shallows. "Start a damn fire, Malfoy," he said flatly. "One of those lovely smokeless ones you were so kind as to remind me how to make."

"Don't look so sullen, Harry. Not everyone can be as clever as a bear. Although your hair looks a bit like bear fur. Maybe -"

There was a sudden WHOOSH! and a cascade of leaves fell like rocks from the trees above Draco, burying him up to his nose.

"Blah! P-tuey! Phfffbbttt! Potter!"

"Never show me a jinx you don't want me to learn," came the smug reply.

Draco got his arms free and pushed the leaves away from his face. He opened his mouth to swear at Harry, but couldn't quite come up with any scathing remarks worthy of his irritation. "Just get me out of here and cook my dinner."

"Would you like a side order of cheese?" Harry asked as he pushed aside some of the leaves and waded into the pile to get to Draco.

"Phfffbbbttt... damn foliage... cheese?"

"Yes," Harry said seriously as he reached out and grasped Draco's hand. "It would go nicely with your whine."

Draco was halfway hoisted out of the leaves before he understood Harry's remark. With his free hand, he grasped a fistful of leaves and lunged forward to stuff them down Harry's shirt.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, dropping Draco's hand.

Draco fell backwards into the pile, laughing hard, and immediately grabbed another handful and threw them at Harry's face.

Harry batted them away and looked at Draco over the rims of his glasses with a devilish smirk. "Oh, it's on now!"

With a battle cry that sounded like a disguised laugh, he lunged at Draco.

*********

By the time the fish was roasted on a spit over the open flame, Draco had almost removed all the bits of leaves from his clothes and hair. He'd been quite appalled to find a few in his underwear, and he did not want to know how they'd got there. Still, it had been fun. A lot of fun. And Harry still had a few bits of leaf stuck in his hair... not that Draco was going to tell him yet.

Leaf fights aside, he had to admit that fishing had been a good idea. It was the first hot food they had eaten in days, and it was actually quite tasty. The night was becoming cool, but the small green fire seemed warmer than usual, and didn't cast enough light to be seen by spying eyes until after dark. It had become a comforting evening ritual: sitting around the campfire, talking about nothing. Harry really was a good companion. Friend. Maybe.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Draco asked around a mouthful.

"I used to cook for my aunt and uncle, remember?"

"Oh, right." He swallowed. "Well, it's good. I wonder if we could trap other things to eat." He suddenly sat up straighter. "I can't believe I just said that. Listen to me. I sound like a common scavenger. How... how..."

"Accurate?" Harry suggested.

"Never." Draco tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Including the fact that you scavenged this one yourself."

"I... oh no... I did, didn't I? How could I have let myself -" He was interrupted by a sudden yawn.

"Sleepy?"

"Not in the slightest," Draco said with a scowl. "Now, where the hell is my teddy bear?"

"Fishing. It was the smarter one."

"Ah, then I guess I can't go to sleep yet, can I?"

Harry smiled, which looked rather creepy in the flickering green light. "Put out the fire, Draco. We'll start moving again at dawn."

The fire was retracted into Draco's wand, and Draco began to spread the cloak out for both of them, but Harry made no move to lie down. Draco looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"I was thinking... about what you said... about Voldemort not being angry." Harry paused meaningfully. "Do you really think that's true? I mean... what could he do to us if he can't find us? And if there were something he could do, wouldn't he have already done it by now?"

Draco had frozen in place, and it felt as though his chest had seized up. He forced a slow, painful breath. "I... it was just a thought, Harry. Like I said, I'm probably overtired and paranoid."

"No," Harry said firmly. "You seemed rather convinced. Draco, is there something you're not telling me?"

In the middle of the steel bands squeezing his chest, Draco's heart was trying desperately to beat. How could he lie to Harry like this? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair to Harry. But it wouldn't be fair to worry Harry over something he couldn't stop. And maybe Dumbledore would find them on time. And maybe Snape would have an easy counter-curse waiting when they arrived. And maybe...

"No. It's... there's nothing, Harry. I guess I'm just still scared."

Harry nodded sceptically. "Right. Just... tell me if something happens, okay?"

Draco swallowed and nodded. Harry continued to stare at him for a moment, eyes boring through Draco uncomfortably, before he finally turned away and set his attention to a rock he found.

"It's going to get cold down here tonight. I'd been thinking, maybe I could heat up a rock for each of us, and we could use it like a hot-water bottle."

Draco nodded, even though Harry wasn't looking at him. Then an odd thought struck him. "I'm warm enough with you under the cloak." As soon as he'd said it, he was mortified as he realized how it sounded. "I mean, you're... and I... and... did I offend you somehow, and you're going to sleep on your own tonight? Not that I need... but I just wanted to make sure I didn't offend you or anything..."

Draco trailed off as Harry turned his head back towards him. He was wearing the strangest expression. "No, I'm just not going to sleep quite yet. I figured you'd want some rest now, and I didn't want you to freeze. You looked really tired today."

"Oh." It made sense, but Draco couldn't shake the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach. He'd upset Harry. Harry suspected something. This was not good. Not good at all.

He pulled the cloak up around his shoulders, spread it out across his legs, and then glanced up at Harry again. Harry was thoroughly engrossed in the process of digging up a rock about the size of a cantaloupe. Draco watched him, wondering why it had suddenly bothered him so much when he had thought Harry would be sleeping on his own. Not that he needed... or even liked... oh hell. It was cold at night, and Harry was warm. It was dark, and Harry was reassuring. They were completely alone, and having Harry right there made Draco feel safer.

Draco marvelled at the thought for a moment - that he enjoyed relying on Harry - when Harry looked up from dusting off the first rock.

"Draco? You all right?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed together as he studied Draco.

Realizing what he'd actually been thinking, Draco's eyes went wide with humiliation and shock. "Fine," he huffed as he quickly pulled the cloak over and flopped onto his side facing away from Harry.

Behind him, he heard Harry sigh.

A few minutes later, there was a tug on the cloak. For a moment, Draco thought Harry had decided to come to sleep, but then he felt the roughness of the warm rock against his back. It was certainly warm enough, and under the cloak, Draco was physically quite comfortable. Physically.

He heard Harry moving around the campsite for a few moments. The rustle of fabric, the cracking of leaves. Harry seemed to be pacing, which only made Draco more uneasy. The sounds came back in Draco's direction, but stopped several feet away. There was no sign that Harry was coming any closer.

Finally, Draco fell asleep, feeling very hollow.

*********

The darkness of sleep slowly bled into a blackness that was nauseatingly familiar. Draco might have thought he was still merely asleep, except that he knew if he was actively questioning whether or not he was just sleeping, the answer was probably no.

All doubts about his status were laid to rest when a harsh voice hissed through the blackness.

"Young traitor. Are you still following your fool's errand? Ah, but there's no need for me to ask, is there?"

The Dark Lord's voice froze the blood in Draco's veins. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed, but he was trying to squeeze them as tightly shut as he could, desperate to block it out.

"You can't hide from me. There is nothing you can hide from me. Even your thoughts are mine, Malfoy." A pause. "What's this? Do you not like your name? You know you are unworthy to bear it. How pitiful. Your father will be shamed to hear of this."

Father...

A high laugh rumbled through the blackness, cutting through Draco.

"Is your father still important to you? You should have thought of that before. Do you still care for your mother? Yes? Ah, but then perhaps Potter is something more to you. Your father had hopes that you had been befuddled or tricked by Potter, but it is perfectly clear that is not the case. You certainly are becoming... amicable."

More laughter. If Draco had a stomach in this bizarre non-world of the vision, that stomach was surely twisting into knots.

"Your thoughts betray you, boy! You're defensive about him... how lovely. You wish to protect him... to be... close to him," Voldemort taunted.

Draco retched. He wasn't even sure what he thought of Harry, or if he and Harry were even friends, but the Dark Lord himself was tearing those nebulous thoughts to shreds. Draco imagined he was tasting bile.

"So sad for you that he shall die, regardless. Will it break your fragile heart?" The voice was singsong, insulting.

Draco tried to tell himself he didn't care about Harry, that it didn't matter what happened to his companion, but the more he tried to force the emotion out of his mind, the stronger it became. It was being magnified; he couldn't think about anything else. His thoughts bounced off the blackness and rebounded back on him, assaulting him along with Voldemort's cruel laugh.

"I look forward to Potter's death, and while I once might have regretted having to kill you, you've proven yourself useless to me. I shall kill you with relish, traitor."

The pause felt ominous. Why is he telling me this? Draco wondered, feeling slightly frantic. I already know this. I've made my decision, I've made my decision, I've... I'm not... I'll... He began to feel the desperate need to grasp something solid. If Voldemort already had Harry's life, and would eventually kill Draco as well if he could, there were no threats left to make, right? Nothing else to hold over his head, right?

As if in answer to that, a glowing image started to form against the black backdrop. Draco couldn't tell if he was seeing it with his eyes, or if it was actually trapped completely within his mind, not that it actually mattered. The glow began to take a shape. Human. Female. Elegant figure. Luxurious blonde hair. A familiar dark shade of lipstick. Aristocratic features.

Mother!

"Does the little boy want his mummy?"

Oh no... no... he can't... he wouldn't.

"Oh, but I can, young fool. There is nothing you have that I cannot take from you."

His mother's eyes suddenly went wide with fear, a split second before she fell to the ground, screaming in obvious pain.

MOTHER! STOP! DON'T HURT HER!

Draco tried to lunge for the prone, convulsing image of Narcissa Malfoy, but he couldn't move.

It's just a vision, just a bad dream. It might not even be real. It's not real! I'm not seeing this... NO! MOTHER!

The high laughter combined with his mother's screams, and Draco cried out in sympathetic pain. He was overwhelmed, dizzy, nauseous. Again, he retched, praying for it to stop.

Miraculously, it did. The image of his mother stopped screaming and went limp on the floor, with only the occasional sob escaping her. Draco tried to move for her again, but before he could even make the effort, Voldemort spoke.

"She will die, traitor. She will die a slow, painful death because of you, if you do not return Potter to me within two days. You could spare her this fate. All you must do is reveal yourself. I shall find you. The longer you wait, the more she shall suffer. The time for mercy has ended."

The laughter slowly faded, but the image of his mother remained. Slowly, she got her hands beneath her and pushed her head and shoulders off the ground. Narcissa Malfoy, so proud, so dignified, was sprawled on the ground with a thin trickle of blood running from her nose over her upper lip.

"Draco... please, my little Draco... you used to make me so proud. So proud..."

MOTHER!

"Please don't leave me like this... please come back to me..."

But the image was fading fast. Again, Draco tried to reach her, but he couldn't move. She was out of reach, he couldn't help her, and she was going to die.

He could help her. He could turn himself in. His life was worthless. The traitor, Draco, not even worthy of the family name. His beautiful, proud mother... she needed him... she was more important...

But what of Harry? He couldn't sacrifice Harry again. Not again. He'd made a promise, and if he had any honour left, he'd keep that one simple promise. He had to.

His mother had never cared much for children. She had ignored him. But she had loved him in her own way, he was sure. She must have. She did love him!

Mother! Please, Mother!

She was going to die, and Draco was alone in the darkness, unable to reach her, unable to be reached.

He could... he had the key. He had Harry.

So cold. So alone.

Draco sank to the non-existent ground and curled up, sobbing and shivering.

He couldn't handle this. He had thought it was just about himself, but now his own mother was threatened, and it was because of him, and him alone. And he was so alone.

Then there were strong arms wrapped around him.

A familiar voice echoed in his ear. "Draco?"

It took him a moment to place the voice. Harry?

"Are you all right? C'mon, open your eyes! I'm right here..."

Draco was about to protest that he couldn't, because he didn't have eyes to open, when he realized that if Harry's arms were wrapped around him, he must have a body for the arms to hold. And if he had a body, he must have eyes to go with it. The arms squeezed tighter, as though Harry were physically anchoring him to reality.

It felt like leaden weights had been affixed to his eyelids, but he could move them. There was a sliver of light in the distance. Slowly, the real shadows of trees against the night sky swam into view through the unnatural blackness. Even the stars were alive and winking at him. With a sudden shock like being thrown through a glass wall, Draco felt himself slam back into his physical body. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, then another and another, desperate for air.

"Easy there," said the soothing voice in his ear. "Don't hyperventilate."

"I... what... oh Merlin's beard, Harry." He was leaning back against Harry's chest, with Harry's arms wrapped around him, holding him up.

"It's okay. You don't have to talk. Just relax and breathe easy for a minute."

Draco shook his head weakly. "No... can't... he's gonna... he's..." His voice trailed off into a series of gasping sobs. He couldn't form words to explain, and he didn't want to think about it.

"Don't worry, Draco." The arms squeezed a little bit tighter. "He's just trying to scare you. He can't touch you here. He probably realized that he wasn't scaring you enough when you said he wasn't angry earlier, so he's making up for it."

"No... it's not that... not me. It's..."

"Who?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't say it. If he did, it would make it real, and it would have actually been his mother, lying there on the ground, screaming and bleeding. He bit down on his lower lip, reached up, and grasped Harry's arms hard, trying to stay grounded in reality. Behind him, Harry flinched, and Draco loosened his grip.

"You don't have to tell me right now. I know what it's like."

Draco blinked. He'd almost forgotten - no, he had forgotten - just who was sitting with him. "Did your scar... you know?"

He could feel Harry nod behind him. "Yeah. I felt that before I noticed what was happening to you. That's when I realized what was going on."

So Harry had felt it. Absently, Draco wondered if Harry could see the vision too, but even as he considered it, the image of his mother burst to the forefront of his mind. Involuntarily, he shuddered.

"Draco?"

His tongue was frozen as his mother's screams echoed in his ears. He whimpered slightly and shook his head.

"That bad, huh?"

Draco looked back up at Harry. "Worse."

Harry seemed to consider this for a few moments. "You know, not everything he shows you is real."

Instantly, one of the tight steel bands wrapped around Draco's chest snapped and he could breathe again. "What?"

Harry nodded, as though Draco's reaction proved his suspicions were true. "He'll dig through your thoughts, find the things that scare you the most, or the things you care about the most, and use them against you." He growled low in his throat. "He's pretty damn good at it, too. Convincing."

"In other words...?"

"Don't believe everything he shows you."

"How do you know?"

Harry frowned. "Because he did it to me."

Not quite sure how to respond to that, Draco nodded in reply and looked away. It had been so real. And even if it could have been an illusion, what if it wasn't? His mother needed him. He needed to help her... but he'd promised Harry. And as for Harry... what the Dark Lord had said... Sure, he and Harry were becoming companions. Friends, even. They trusted each other, but Harry wasn't that important. Not like his mother.

But then, would he give Harry up for his mother?

No. Yes. NO!

This was too much. He wouldn't think about it. He couldn't. His whole body felt abused, as if he'd just climbed ten more mountains identical to the one he'd scaled earlier that day. Not having the energy to move away, he relaxed against Harry, taking a little bit of strength and support where he could get it.

Then something else occurred to him.

"You pulled me out of the vision."

"What?" Harry sounded confused.

"The last time... I couldn't feel anything in the vision. There was no ground, no air, I couldn't even feel my own body. But this time... I felt your arms. It was like an anchor. You pulled me out of it." He paused and chewed on his lip briefly, afraid that he sounded stupid, but at that point, he figured he couldn't look much more pathetic than he already did. He sighed. "Thank you."

Harry shrugged. "You'd do the same for me."

That surprised Draco. He hadn't really considered it. "I wouldn't have known what to do."

"Neither did I." Harry hesitated. "Just sort of went on instinct. I grabbed you and held on, and you responded. So I didn't let go."

"Oh."

Harry made an abbreviated noise, as if he had been going to say something, but had cut short.

Draco squirmed around slightly so he could look up at Harry's face. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

Now it was Draco's turn to be confused. "Whatever for?"

"For leaving you by yourself in the first place."

Draco thought for a brief moment, then with a grunt of effort, rolled sideways, and sat up to face Harry in the darkness. "What... Harry, do you honestly think that the fact that you were sitting a couple of metres away instead of right here has anything to do with You-Know-Who getting through to me?"

"Well..." Draco could just make out Harry's face well enough to see that he was chewing furiously on his lower lip. "The last time you fell asleep on your own was the night Voldemort first attacked you. Since then... well... I guess I feel like I left you to face him by yourself."

Outwardly, Draco rolled his eyes, but inwardly, he supposed it made a bit of sense. He certainly felt more secure with Harry right there. But still, that couldn't really have anything to do with it.

"Harry, it was just a coincidence," Draco said, trying to sound far more convinced than he actually was. "You-Know-Who probably figured we were getting too relaxed, and we were talking about him earlier, so he just decided to rough me up again; try to scare me." It sounded fake, but it was what he needed to tell Harry. It wasn't the first time he'd lied to tell someone what they wanted to hear. And this was for Harry's own good. He reached out and nudged Harry's arm. "And as long as you're around, whether you're under the cloak, or several metres away, he can't scare me enough to make me turn around. We already agreed on that, right?"

Harry glanced up at the sky, then examined Draco critically. "Think you're ready to go to sleep?"

Draco stiffened immediately. There was no way he wanted to go back to sleep now. Whether or not Voldemort sent the visions directly, the image of his mother screaming was sure to haunt his sleep. He wasn't that sleepy, really. He'd stand watch or something. He...

Harry nodded slowly. "I didn't think so."

Defensiveness welled up in Draco. "I am not incapable of falling asleep on my own, Potter. I'm just wide awake, that's all. Surely a good scare would leave anyone wide awake. I'll just stay over there and keep watch -"

He had intended to stand and walk stoically to where the campfire had been earlier, but as soon as he was on his feet, he realized that had been a bad idea. His legs were painfully stiff from the mountain climb, and the vision must have taken more out of him than he'd thought. The blood rushed from his head, and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, opening his eyes, feeling Harry's hand on his forehead.

"Draco?"

With a sudden and furious rush of embarrassment, Draco slapped Harry's hand away. "Don't do that."

"Then I won't," Harry said simply.

Draco groaned inwardly. "I just stood up too quickly."

"Mmmhmm."

Harry's complacent tone grated on Draco. With some struggle, he sat up. "And I don't need your help."

"No problem."

Draco's patience snapped. Perfect Harry Potter, always calm, always the hero, knows all the answers... damn him! "Why are you doing that!?"

"Doing what?" Harry asked with infuriating calmness.

"I... you..." Draco raised his hands, gesturing in halting motions, teeth bared and gritted. It was Harry that was standing between him and saving his mother. His alliance with Harry was putting her at risk. It was his fault... he couldn't...

Realizing that this was getting him nowhere, Draco finally dropped his hands and looked away. "Stop being nice to me. I'll be fine on my own."

There was a long pause. "Well... I figured we're supposed to be helping each other. And if I need your help somewhere along the way, I'd feel better knowing that I helped you."

Draco glanced up to see that Harry had turned away. With a huff, Draco reached over, grabbed the cloak, and started arranging it, automatically making a space for Harry as well. "Since when do you need anyone's help?"

Very softly, Harry replied, "All the time."

Draco felt his argument come to a screeching halt, and he sat there staring at Harry, completely floored. Embarrassment, anger, remorse, and fear pounded at him from all sides, while Harry's eyes drilled into him through the faint moonlight.

Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. With a huff, he wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and flopped down with his back to Harry. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his lip. For a couple of days, things had been really quiet, almost pleasant. He'd almost let himself forget the threat. He'd enjoyed Harry's company. Not that he would have said it out loud, but he did consider Harry his friend now. The road ahead would be difficult, and he had known that, but it was his chosen path. His thoughts had wavered, and he'd been a bit scared, but his path had been certain.

Now... he heard Voldemort's taunting. The Dark Lord insulting his new-found friendship and loyalties. Holding threats over his head. He heard his mother's screaming. He had been so stupid, and he was so uncertain again.

And again, he felt so alone.

Draco had nearly resigned himself to a long, cold, sleepless night when he felt a tug on the cloak. He figured at first that Harry had reheated the rock, but then he felt Harry's warm back against his own. The live warmth radiating through his shirt, the rise and fall of Harry's breath; it was... nice.

Harry snuggled down underneath the cloak and adjusted it over both himself and Draco. Unsure what to think, Draco held perfectly still, as uneasy as he'd been the first night they'd shared the cloak together. He wanted to relax, but he couldn't. There was Harry, alive and warm against him... someone he'd come to know so well in the last week... someone he silently respected and appreciated... someone to whom he'd sworn a promise.

Then there was his mother. His own mother; his own bloodline.

How could he validate his loyalties?

He waited for Harry to say something, but there was nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees, and Draco wasn't ready to break the silence himself.

It was a long time before Draco fell asleep.

Behind him, Harry was wide awake, waiting for Draco say something. He was worried. What had Draco seen in his vision? Why was he so angry? What was he hiding? But Draco said nothing.

It was a long time before Harry fell asleep.

*********

Camp was broken in silence at the first light of dawn. It was grey and dismal under a thick layer of fog. Draco seemed to be in an even worse state of mind than he'd been the night before, and Harry was in no mood to exchange edgy conversation. He'd barely slept, and when he did, his sleep had been plagued by bizarre dreams for the first time in days.

He had been in the Ministry of Magic, staring at the glass that contained time, but instead of the hummingbird, it contained a miniature moon. The moon kept phasing over and over, never quite becoming full before it began to shrink again. All around him, he heard ticking clocks. He'd looked up, and Draco had been standing a short distance ahead of him, not in a Ministry hallway, but on a wooded path at the edge of a river. He had reached into a pocket with a gold chain hanging out of it, but instead of a pocket watch, Draco pulled out that stick he'd been marking each night. It was cut down almost to a toothpick. We're going to be late, and it's all your fault, he'd said. I need to go home now. My mother called for me. He had put the stick back into his pocket and stepped into the river. When he was halfway across, he had disappeared.

It was just a dream, not a vision, but it had been so strange that it left Harry feeling quite unsettled. He'd just fallen asleep thinking too hard, that was all. Draco had been behaving oddly, and they'd been out in the woods too long, and it was just a dream. Too much stress, nothing more. That didn't make Harry any more comfortable with Draco's presence when he'd awoken.

With a sigh, Harry returned to the task of breaking camp. He transfigured the fish bones into pebbles and threw them into the river while Draco hid all traces of the campfire. Together, they scattered leaves over the site to cover the places they'd disrupted as they'd moved and slept. The cloak was re-shrunk, but when Harry moved to slip it into the travel sack, Draco grabbed it suddenly and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Harry started at the abrupt motion, but stopped himself from saying anything. What would he say? The night chill was still in the air, and it was Draco's cloak. Still, it felt like Draco was intentionally putting yet another barrier between them as he shrouded himself with the cloak and then turned his back to Harry. Harry shook his head, trying not to show how irritated he was becoming. As he shouldered the sack, Draco spoke without turning around.

"Which direction?" His voice was as cold as the air, and completely impersonal. It grated on Harry more than the silence.

Harry placed his wand on the palm of his hand. "Point me," he incanted flatly. When the wand stopped spinning, Harry started walking south without a word to Draco. He didn't look back, but listened to assure himself that Draco was actually following him. The crunch of leaves confirmed that Draco wasn't being completely stupid. At least he had enough common sense not to let himself get caught.

The surroundings slowly became lighter, and the fog lifted, but the sky remained grey and overcast. Harry trudged along, trying not to think too much. He wasn't having much luck.

After nearly a week of travelling with and growing closer to the least likely person he'd ever met - and, to his surprise, enjoying the situation - he felt as though he was back at the beginning, day one. For the first time in days, he was travelling with Malfoy, not Draco. He imagined he could feel Malfoy's eyes on the back of his neck like little prickles of ice, but when he glanced back, Malfoy was just staring at the ground as he walked. At least he wasn't tripping over branches and brambles anymore.

Harry turned back around and refocused on his own walking. The terrain in this lowland was different than in the large valley they'd left the day before. The soil was soft and almost black, and it kept sinking underfoot. The air was heavy with a cold dampness that went right through flesh and bone. Half of the trees were dead, tipped over, or missing large branches which littered the forest floor. The ground-level foliage was mostly ferns growing in patchy clumps with the occasional vine weaving its way through to provide just enough of a tripping hazard to require attention. It wasn't particularly appealing scenery, but Harry was too tired to care.

Or maybe he was tired because he didn't care at the moment.

The silence between himself and Malfoy was terribly uncomfortable, but Harry wasn't going to be the first to break it.

The cold clamminess turned into humidity as the morning progressed, and Harry pulled off his jumper and tied it around his waist. A glance back showed that Malfoy was still wearing the cloak. He snickered.

"Still cold, Malfoy?" As soon as he'd said it, Harry nearly kicked himself for speaking first.

Draco's eyes snapped up, blazing with a fury that startled Harry despite himself. "I don't need your heart-warming, Gryffindor-do-gooder concern."

Feeling very affronted, Harry scowled back over his shoulder. "So terribly sorry," he said, his voice oozing sarcasm. "Completely slipped my mind that I was supposed to be an arse. I just thought you'd be too warm in that thing."

Draco stopped short. "Should have realized, Potter knows best." With a dramatic flourish, he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. "Oh, Potter! Would you please tell me what to wear, for I am obviously incapable of choosing my own attire! And please carry my cloak! It's so heavy for delicate little me!"

Harry stood stock-still with his hands at his sides, completely unsure of how to react to this. Malfoy was staring at him with a smirk that was far too familiar: the same sneer he'd been using since first year. Harry narrowed his eyes angrily at his old rival.

"That's it. Listen here, Malfoy," Harry snarled, enjoying watching Draco bristle in response. "I don't know what you saw last night, or why you've suddenly changed from a human being back into the obnoxious, spoilt prat I knew at Hogwarts, but you know what? I don't care!"

Draco almost seemed to falter, but if he did, he covered it immediately. "Oh, I'm sure you don't, hero-boy. Not that you ever really did. You just needed a way out of the dungeons, and I was the most convenient option."

Harry couldn't believe he was hearing this. What the hell was wrong with Malfoy? Harry did care.

No, he had cared before. This whole so-called friendship had been a mistake in the first place, and now Harry knew why. It was nothing but a farce! It was a product of a desperate situation. Fuck, it was Malfoy! It always had been, and that had never really changed. He should have seen it sooner. With the way Malfoy was acting now, the bastard didn't deserve the slightest consideration. And if this was the way Malfoy wanted it, then that was what he'd get.

"All right, Malfoy, believe what you want to believe. Have it your way. Fuck this 'common goal' bullshit."

The harsh language got a definite reaction from Draco, who suddenly seemed to realize that Harry was serious. His eyes widened in surprise, and he appeared to shrink back into his cloak a little bit. The snivelling little coward! This only incited Harry further.

"I'd almost started to respect you, you know that? I was stupid enough to think you could really change. But you only left because you were scared shitless of Voldemort. And now you're acting like a git because you can't take the pressure. Let me give you a clue, Malfoy. Life isn't easy! It doesn't cater to your inbred, pure-blooded arse or your perfect, uncallused hands! Life doesn't care about you, or your family, or your friends, or anyone. And if you thought that because I've survived Voldemort this long that teaming up with me must be some sort of sure thing, you're even dumber than I thought."

For a moment, Draco seemed to reel, then he quickly regained his composure, and Harry knew for sure that he was dealing with just a mask of the person Draco had been for years. Only now, he really didn't care. The entire time they'd been travelling, the tension had been too great, the truce and friendship had been built on too shallow a foundation. It was no match for old anger under high pressure. As hard as he'd tried to fix things last night, as far as they'd come, at that moment, it didn't matter. Blood was pumping hot in his ears, his fists were clenched tight, and he was just waiting to see what Malfoy was going to do next.

Draco took a step forward and narrowed his eyes. "And maybe you'd prefer it back in your cell," he snarled.

"You would say that." Harry almost took a step closer, but he suddenly had a better idea, and took a deliberate step backwards. "And perhaps so would you."

The fury in Draco's face suddenly mixed with fear. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't make a threat you can't handle, Malfoy."

This was absolutely insane. After how careful they'd been, after all they'd been through, Harry knew he was acting beyond all reason. It didn't matter just then. Harry wasn't trying to prove some self-righteous point. He wasn't playing mind games. He was just furious.

"If he finds you, then I'm sure he'll find me. Likewise, if he finds me, he'll find you. Only I've got a better track-record against him." Harry fingered the cord of the Mislocator as he took another step back, relishing the sight of Draco going several shades paler. "Right now, I'm tempted to take my chances!"

"Ha - Harry... don't," Draco choked out. "I... I trusted you with that!"

"And what the fuck do you know about trust?" Harry said sharply.

Draco was visibly breathing in short, shallow gasps. "I know that that's not what you want to do!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW A DAMN THING ABOUT WHAT I WANT?" Harry roared.

"Because... because you told me!" Draco was eyeing the Mislocator nervously, not looking at Harry. He didn't care what Harry had told him, Harry thought bitterly. He was just worried about saving his own arse.

"Oh, so you only listen when it suits you? You only give a shit when it suits you." Harry took another step backwards, almost tripping on the soft soil. "And the second you find yourself on shaky ground, it's back to square one. Oh world, kiss my virginal arse, for I am Draco Fucking Malfoy."

Draco went from pale to purple in a split second. "Why you... you arrogant, pompous, ungrateful scarhead!"

"Ungrateful? Ungrateful? YOU GOT ME INTO THIS MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE?" Draco cried, plainly desperate.

Harry stared at him for what must have been only a few seconds, but it stretched on forever. Finally, he said in a rough whisper, "Maybe until I believe you."

Draco's mouth was hanging open slightly, and his eyes were red but dry. A day ago, Harry wouldn't have imagined wanting this, but right now, irrational emotions were enough of an excuse. He had Draco right where he'd wanted him for years: at his mercy, begging, whimpering, pathetic. Still... Draco was right about one thing. Harry did not want to go back to Voldemort, and he wouldn't sentence anyone - not even Draco - to that fate.

Harry screwed his face up into a determined scowl. "The only reasons I'm not going to expose us are the fact that I have no intention of going back there, and because I'd like to think I have a shred of honour."

Draco looked slightly confused, then relieved, but suddenly his eyes went wide as Harry took another decisive step backwards. "Harry -"

"I don't care what you do. Go running back, for all I care, but I'm sure as hell not going with you. I'll survive. I'm pretty good at that, it seems." Another step backwards. His foot sank into the ground several centimetres, but he pulled it back out and regained his footing.

"Harry, wait -"

"Shut up!" Harry snapped as he stepped backwards again. "Here's the way it's going to be. You said this thing has a radius of at least twenty-five metres. You stay at least twenty of those metres away from me until you decide to act like a human being again."

"Harry, stop! Please! You're -"

"Stay out of my way, Malfoy, and I'll stay out of yours. But you're just going to have to keep up with me because I'm not waiting for you," Harry said flatly. He started to turn and stepped forward, planting his foot down firmly -

His foot went clear through the surface of the earth.

And it didn't stop. His stomach gave a terrible lurch as he began to fall. He tried to twist around in place, and he caught a glimpse of Draco's terrified expression just before the ground completely gave way beneath him.