Eclipse

Chapter 15

Shadows of the Past

*********

The terrain dragged on endlessly under a flat, overcast sky. On the ground, the air was motionless and stale, and Draco felt as though it were somehow viscous, dragging on him and slowing him down, making movement with an injured ankle and cane even more laborious. At least the landscape seemed less hilly for the moment, and Draco found himself grateful for the rolling fields and tree-dotted floodplains that twisted their way between the mountains and hills to either side. Besides, speed wasn't the objective any more, he reminded himself. The new game was observation.

Harry had already found a hawthorn bush in a thicket, and the thorns had been carefully tucked into Draco's pocket with the other ingredients. Since then, however, the search had been fruitless late into the afternoon. Draco was frustrated, and it was obvious that Harry was nervous. Beyond nervous. Several times, Draco had tried to engage him in casual conversation, but to no avail. Harry wouldn't be pulled into conversation, or otherwise distracted from the black thoughts that must be floating through his head, and his state of mind showed in his every movement.

While Draco was walking with an explainable limp, Harry had no reason other than sheer exhaustion for the way his trainers scraped the ground with every step. His head might have been down because he was looking for the periwinkle, but Draco suspected that his head drooped for the same reason his shoulders slumped. Harry's eyes had deep shadows underneath them, and his hands hung limp at his sides as he walked. The only signs that it wasn't simple fatigue ailing him were the pinched appearance of his mouth, and the harsh set of his jaw. Draco wondered if their expressions matched.

A couple of times, Harry cried out in excitement, thinking that he'd found the small blue flowers, only to look closer and discover that it was a case of mistaken identity or wishful thinking. If anything, that only caused the disappointment to weigh heavier on him. After the third such mistake, Draco knew it was time for a break, if for no other reason than to distract Harry for a few minutes.

"Harry, do you want to stop for a snack?"

Harry didn't even look up, and he replied with a question. "Are you hungry?"

Draco suppressed a sigh, knowing there was only one way to get Harry to stop. "Yes, a bit."

"Okay then."

Harry wasted no time digging a pear out of the sack and passing the sack to Draco, still without making eye contact. Draco accepted the bag, but paused mid-motion as he reached into it. He couldn't stand Harry's prolonged silence, but casual conversation wasn't going anywhere. After digging up an apple, Draco settled back and decided to go for the direct approach.

"What are you thinking about?"

Harry merely shrugged, which caused Draco's frustration to spike.

"Harry, you can't keep going on like this. Are you going to talk to me, or are we going to observe a vow of silence for the rest of the trip?" He waited for Harry's reply, hoping the careful balance of irritation and concern would work.

For a long moment, Harry sat staring off into space, chewing a bite of pear. He swallowed, and waited another moment before speaking. "Not much to talk about, I guess."

Draco frowned. "There's a lot to talk about, and you know it. What would you talk about if Granger and Weasley were here instead of me? You said you confide in them, right?"

Draco had expected some sort of reaction to that. Either an emphatic "Of course, they're my friends!" or possibly "You don't know what I talk about with them, and don't pretend to understand." He would have even been satisfied with an emotional outburst about how much Harry missed them. He didn't expect the odd downward twist of Harry's mouth, not quite a frown, or the furrowed eyebrows.

Draco fidgeted. "Well, don't you?"

"Not so much, lately," Harry said sadly. "They were the only ones I really could talk to, but after last spring, at the Ministry, I didn't feel much like talking. To anyone. And for so long, everyone thought I was crazy, and even though Ron and Hermione said they didn't think I was... I just didn't want to talk about everything that was going on. After so much shit, there's just not much to be said anymore."

Understanding slowly washed over Draco. "After a point, what can you say, right?"

"Pretty much." Harry took another bite of pear, but as he swallowed, he settled into a more comfortable position. Draco took that as a good sign that he might be more willing to talk, and waited for Harry to continue.

"I didn't want to upset anyone anymore," Harry started. "There was never any good news, and nobody believed me anyway. The more I talked, the more trouble it caused me. I threw myself into the DA, but you eventually ruined that for me. No hard feelings... sorta. And then, after everything came crashing down at the Ministry, I just... had nothing to say. It's funny, but I've actually talked to you more in the past two weeks than I have to anyone since last spring. Still, either way, I'm tired of bad news."

So am I, Harry. So am I. "Well, that was then, and this is now. So... if your friends were here, what would you talk about with them?"

Harry looked amused. "One of my friends is here."

Draco rolled his eyes in a vain effort to divert attention from the redness he knew was seeping across his cheeks. "Potter, you are so predictable."

"Predictable, am I?"

"You always have been." Draco grinned. "And right now, you're desperately thinking of something to do to surprise me and prove me wrong, and you're not coming up with anything, are you?"

Harry looked like he had just swallowed a whole lemon. "You know, one of these days, I'm going to just do something totally random, and I will surprise you."

Draco's grin grew even wider. "I look forward to it. Will it involve a grass skirt, a coconut-shell bra, and a tray of Mai Tai's?"

Now Harry looked like he was choking on the imaginary lemon. "Wha - what?"

The grin became a smirk. "Just wanted to see the look on your face. And look. I finally seem to have distracted you."

Harry's look of shock quickly became a harsh scowl, although there was still a flush visible across his cheekbones. "Fine. Fine. You want me to talk? Fine! First, you ought to know that I've told you things in the past two weeks that I've never even mentioned to Ron and Hermione. Don't look so surprised. Chances are that if they were here right now, I'd be talking even less. I can't explain why, and I don't feel proud about it.

"And seeing as you must know what I've been thinking all day, the answer is 'not a hell of a lot'. I can't think about Hogwarts, because it only makes me more homesick. I'm not thinking about your plan, because I barely understand it, and it only makes me more nervous. And I've barely been thinking about Ron and Hermione, because every time I do, I keep wondering if I'll never see them again!"

Harry came to a crashing stop in his monologue, and if anything, he looked slightly out of breath. Draco stared at him, not quite sure what to say to that. After a moment, Harry lost the slightly wild look, bit down lightly on his lower lip, then sighed dejectedly. "I wish they were here, though. Hermione would be able to work with you on that theory of yours - and don't look so affronted. You know she'd be a huge help."

"Sorry," Draco mumbled. "Force of habit. You're right."

Harry nodded. "Two great minds are still better than one, and I'd bet a second opinion would make you feel better, too."

The sideways compliment didn't escape Draco's attention, but he instinctively didn't appreciate being favourably compared with a Muggle-born, nor being told that he could use her help, even if he probably could. "Yeah. I know. It would."

Harry mouth twitched with a weak smile. "'s'okay. Hermione really is great in a crisis, though. She can figure out anything. She's saved my neck so many times. If it wasn't for her, I probably would have died long ago. And then Ron... ha, if Ron was here, I'd be so busy trying to keep him from killing you that I wouldn't have time to worry about dying. I can hear him now. 'Harry, how can you even be sitting with him! It's Draco-bloody-Malfoy! The Ferret! He's just waiting for a chance to hex you!' And he'd turn so red that his freckles would look light in comparison. That - Draco, are you okay?"

A twisting sensation had gripped Draco by the gut, almost like a slow Portkey. He'd been trying not to think about it so much, but once again, he was being reminded that he was straddling the line between two sides of a very serious fight. Just as he was no longer welcome back home, he certainly wouldn't be given a hero's welcome back at Hogwarts. His one connection to the world was now Harry, but it was obvious that even Harry's friends would probably want to see him dead after all this. Shaking his head, he bit the last chunk of apple off the core, tossed the core away, and hauled himself to his feet using the cane. "Let's keep walking, okay?"

Harry looked a bit confused, but quickly scrambled to his feet and followed after Draco, still munching on his pear. "I'll see them again," Harry muttered to himself around his mouthful. "I have to. Of course I will." He swallowed and began speaking clearly again. "It's going to be really different with you, and them. I wonder if they have any idea what happened, or if they understand that you designed our escape. I wonder how... Draco, are you sure you're okay?"

Draco had already stopped. He'd intended to walk to keep his mind from turning in circles, but instead his circular thoughts were keeping him from walking. "If I want the truth out of you," Draco said, barely under his breath, "I'd better be willing to do the same, I suppose."

"What?"

Draco spared Harry a sideways glance, which allowed him to see the confusion spread across Harry's features. Draco shook his head to himself. "I've been trying not to think about this myself, but Harry, what are your friends going to do to me when we get back?"

"My friends... do... to... huh?"

Draco gritted his teeth. Is he honestly not aware of it? "I already told you what the Slytherins are going to do to me, but it's not like I'm going to have any help from the other side of the fence either. Weasley's going to curse me on sight. Granger will - I don't know - drop a really heavy library book on me in my sleep! Whatever they do, it's not going to be pleasant, and nobody's going to blame them! And if I'm not getting ahead of myself, once they're done with me, I'm sure to be arrested on the spot!"

If anything, Harry seemed even more confused. "Where did all this come from?"

"You mean you haven't thought about it?"

Harry frowned. "No, not really."

"Foresight isn't your strong suit, is it?"

"Hey, stop right there." Harry grabbed Draco and spun him around, bringing them face to face. "Maybe I haven't thought about it because I don't think there's going to be a problem."

"Maybe you don't see the problem because you haven't thought about it. Just... hear me out." Draco twisted his shoulder out of Harry's grasp and started walking again slowly, using the cane for emotional support as much as physical. "I already explained to you that my house is pretty sure to have disowned me, but... I've been worried... wondering... what am I actually going to do when I get there? Who's going to want me?"

If anything, Harry looked hurt by that. "I -"

"I know what you're going to say, Harry... and don't think I'm not grateful for that... but weren't you just saying that if Ron was here, you'd have to keep him from attacking me?"

"Well, I said it, but I didn't -"

"You meant it," Draco said flatly. "And you're right. They're going to kill me if they can get their hands on me."

"Not when I explain everything! Once they understand what you've done to get us this far, and everything you've done for me, it'll be okay."

Draco looked over at him plaintively. "But can you convince them before they kill me, or will you have to beg my case posthumously?"

Harry seemed like he was about to launch an argument, but cut off whatever he was about to say and frowned. "Can we stop talking about death, please?"

"Oh. Sorry," Draco said, although his tone was only partially apologetic.

Harry scowled. "Well, then, if you want to talk about death, while we're on the topic..."

Draco suddenly wished he'd simply conceded ungrudgingly. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I've got something I've been wondering about."

He raised an eyebrow warily. "Okay..."

"Please don't take this the wrong way."

"Oh, when you say it like that, it makes me feel so much better," Draco snapped. When Harry glared at him, he threw his head back in defeat. "I'm kidding. Go ahead. I'm sure I can take it."

Harry nodded, and hesitated, as though he really wasn't sure he wanted to speak his mind. Finally, he nodded to himself, and looked over at Draco with an unreadable expression. "I've been wondering about this for a while. I know you don't now, but did you ever... I know, it's not exactly the nicest question, but I need to know... did you ever really want to kill me?"

The question was like a bucketful of ice water, and Draco couldn't stop himself from gasping. "I ... thought I did. And I wanted to... to hurt you," he admitted reluctantly. "I wanted you to suffer, to make you pay."

"But did you...?" Harry let the question hang heavily in the air.

"No," Draco said with a conviction that surprised even him. He softened his tone, looked Harry in the eye, and said again, "No, I didn't."

Harry seemed satisfied with this. Not happy, but accepting. Draco relaxed a bit, but then Harry spoke again. "What were you thinking when you stabbed me?"

Draco flinched. "How can you say that so easily?"

Harry shrugged.

"Yeah. You want to know what I was thinking?"

"That's why I asked."

"I guess turnabout is fair play," Draco said sadly. "Simple truth is... I wasn't thinking. Well, not really. Just a few basic thoughts. Be quiet. Wait for the right moment. And don't think."

"Why?"

"You're not going to let me off of this, are you?"

Harry shook his head, and Draco groaned softly. "I wasn't thinking because if I had, then that might have given me a chance to royally fuck up. When you think, you make mistakes. At that point, I didn't need to think anymore anyway. I'd already done enough thinking. Spent the whole summer obsessing over it. There was nothing left to do... but to do it."

"The whole summer?" Harry asked.

Draco tipped his head in affirmation. "Oh yes. Actually, it started before the summer holiday even began. I had spent the last weeks of school thinking of revenge, wanting to do something. I got home from Hogwarts, and the following week, my father broke out of Azkaban. I started pestering him, asking if I could borrow one of his cursed trinkets to use on you, but he said that my stupid games had no place in the middle of a war. He said the Dark Lord would be furious if I caused unplanned damage to you before he got you himself, and to stop bothering him about such foolish pursuits."

Draco closed his eyes for a moment as he recalled the events that would ultimately lead him to where he was now. He had been so pleased with himself at the time. So smug. Now, the memory made him distinctly uncomfortable. He opened his eyes to see Harry staring back at him, giving him a look that demanded he carry on. Draco sighed, and continued.

"So, I kept quiet for a few days. Then, one evening, I overheard Aunt Bellatrix say that the Dark Lord wanted to get you from inside Hogwarts, because that was the only place he could get you. And that's when I had my idea. I was inside Hogwarts; I could do it. So I begged my father. Repeatedly. He was considering it, but my mother refused to let me. She rarely defied my father openly, and I've almost never seen her get emotional, but this time, she screamed, she yelled, and she even smashed some of the wineglasses my father had given her for her last birthday. I had no idea why she was so against it. Maybe the same reason she didn't want me to go to Durmstrang, but I never really knew her reasons for that either."

"Anyway, I waited, and one night, when Aunt Bella came to visit again, I asked my father again, in front of her. Aunt Bella thought it was brilliant. I think she told the Dark Lord herself, because the next day, my father told me I could do it. I don't know if he was pleased with the idea or not; I don't think he thought I could do it. Of course, when I did, he was proud of me. Really proud of me, for the first time that I can remember. On the other hand, mother was furious. She wouldn't talk to him. She spoke to me less than usual. I still don't understand why... I would have thought she'd be proud."

At that, Harry leaned back and made a low, humming sound in his throat. Instantly, Draco felt a surge of defensiveness. "What?"

"I'm just making some observations."

Draco scowled darkly at him. "Oh, so now you're playing psychoanalyst?"

Harry frowned and shook his head vehemently. "No! Not at all. I'm just... learning something new about you. It's interesting."

"Oh great. Well, I'm glad I can provide you with such amusement."

"That's not what I meant! I mean... I like learning about you. That's all." He bobbed his head once. "Please... finish your story?"

Draco almost refused, but Harry looked authentically curious. This was something Draco had never spoken about before, and the idea of exposing these thoughts left him feeling a bit naked, but he'd already shown so much to Harry. He might as well oblige Harry the rest of the story. "I'm sure you've figured out by now that my parents weren't exactly warm, fuzzy people. I learned not to expect affection. I think it was mostly because my father wanted to groom me for service to the Dark Lord... and warm fuzziness isn't exactly conducive to that career, as you know. Still, affectionate or not, I still wanted their attention, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get it. Whatever I tried to do to impress them though... I think I kept missing the mark. But this time, when I got you, my father seemed like he was actually proud, although Mother still wouldn't talk to me. I didn't think much about it at the time, but now, I really wish we'd talked before... before I left."

"Your parents... I never really thought about them like that."

"Like what?"

"Like parents." Harry sounded oddly ashamed.

Draco snorted grimly. "Well, from what I know, your encounters with my father never really gave you anything pleasant to go on." He hung his head. "I'm worried about them, though."

Harry's eyes widened suddenly. "My god, I forgot. You said... you said that Voldemort..." His voice trailed off.

Draco shrugged. "You were distracted with your own problems, but I'm worried about you, and them. I don't know what he did, or what he's going to do to them. I don't even know if it's all just a ploy to scare me." His voice wavered. "Would he kill them, Harry? To get to me?"

"I... wish I could say no -"

"Don't sugar-coat it. Say it." Draco braced himself anyway.

"I wouldn't put anything past Voldemort."

It hurt to hear, but Draco knew he'd needed to hear it. It left a painful lump in his stomach, and a hollowness in his chest, but he could handle it. He had to handle it. "I can't save them, can I?"

Harry paused for a moment, then his face melted into a look of shocked realization. "That's why you were willing to risk going back!"

Draco could only nod.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I couldn't. I didn't know what to say. You were already so upset."

"Draco... you're talking about your parents. I may hate them, but I would understand. At least, I can understand that better than your suicidal 'I'll expose myself and just see what happens for no good reason' plan. Do you... do you want to go back?"

This was the core of the issue. Draco's last hurdle: his nagging second thoughts and reservations. He needed to put his dilemma into words; needed to put it out in the open for Harry to hear it. If he could voice it, he could conquer it. He spoke slowly, deliberately, carefully considering the facts as he said them. "The Dark Lord said that he'd kill me anyway... but that if I went back, he'd spare my parents. He said he's already killed my mother... but now he's threatening to kill my father. If I don't go back, with you, he'll do it. I was thinking that if I went back anyway, without you, I could have told him that I tried to bring you back, but you fought me off. I'd use the ankle injury as evidence. That way, you could still try to make it to Hogwarts, and I'd have a chance of saving my parents." He held his breath for a second. "I... want to go back... but I want to stay with you. So I -"

"You let me make the decision for you."

Draco nodded meekly.

"I can't do that, Draco. I can't be responsible for what happens to you, or - as much as I don't like them - your parents. I can't decide if you're going to stay or not."

"I know. So I decided."

"And...?"

"I'm still here, right?" He waited until Harry mumbled something that sounded like, 'yeah, I guess,' in acknowledgement. "And my father... he's strong. He can take care of himself. He got out of Azkaban, didn't he? And my mother... he'll take care of her. They'll be okay. Right?"

Harry hesitated, just a bit too long. When he noticed the sudden slump in Draco's shoulders, his eyes widened. "Draco, I'm sure your parents will -"

"Stop. I told you not to sugar-coat it. Don't. I shouldn't have asked you that anyway."

"I'll ask you again: do you want to go back for them?"

Draco let his head fall forward. "What would happen if I went back? I already told you. You'd die. I'd die. My mother might already be dead anyway. She was the one who didn't want me to do this in the first place, and look what happened. Why didn't I listen to her?"

Harry gave a half-smile. "Since when have you listened to anyone?"

Draco mirrored the expression. "Point." His face fell again. "What were my chances? I mean, really? Maybe my mother was right. So many people had tried to get you out of the school. My father said that most of them were stopped by Dumbledore's people before they came anywhere near Hogwarts. Only one ever succeeded, and even he was caught almost immediately. I never really considered the possibility of failure, but what if I had failed?"

"Er... then we wouldn't be here."

Draco took a slow breath, feeling a jab of pain through the hollow spot in his chest.

"Draco?"

He grabbed Harry by the sleeve and stopped short, looking squarely at Harry's face. "What happens when someone fails the Dark Lord?"

Draco waited until he could see the comprehension flash across Harry's face, then he nodded and released Harry's sleeve. "I was so intent on getting you that I never really considered the risks. It didn't matter. I succeeded catching you, but I jumped ship before I'd completed my 'mission'. I was a failure to the Dark Lord, and a traitor. You know what he does with traitors. So now I've got a new mission - a mission of my own - but even if I succeed in getting us both home alive, that only makes me a bigger failure to the Dark Lord. It puts me even further from where I was supposed to be; the complete antithesis of what I was supposed to do. Does that make sense?"

"It does."

"It's just that if - when we make it back... oh hell, I'll be in enough danger from your friends at Hogwarts, and the Ministry, but I'll be in the most danger from the Dark Lord. He'll find me. I'm sure that right now he's almost as angry with me as he is with you. Don't you see, Harry? Both sides are going to want my head on a stake. I have no out on either end. No safe zones. I'm a marked man. I can't even begin to imagine what will happen if I fail tomorrow night, but even if I succeed, You-Know-Who is going to want to kill me even more. You know he stops at nothing."

"Well..." Harry mused softly to himself for a moment. "You're going to be at Hogwarts soon. I don't think Voldemort is going to get you within the walls of Hogwarts, not with Dumbledore there."

"Harry, I was able to -"

"Don't start that. I know you caught me. But you know, I've been thinking... Dumbledore is pretty perceptive. I know you think he's not all there, but if he wasn't, then why would Voldemort be scared of him? And I figured, maybe... just maybe... you got away with what you did because Dumbledore didn't really think the worst of you. He tends to be right about people. Maybe he thought you wouldn't really do anything all that bad."

Draco snorted derisively. "Wouldn't that just be proof that he doesn't have the best perception of people?"

"You escaped with me, in case you forgot."

Draco could only shrug in response.

"Besides, you caught me... but who would they send after you? Crabbe and Goyle? Do you honestly think the likes of them could catch you?"

Draco quirked his head to the side with a half-smile. "You know... that actually made me feel a little bit better. Not much, but some."

"Glad to hear it."

Taking the excuse to switch to a lighter subject, Draco started walking again, and said easily, "You know what's funny? I really am starting to miss Greg and Vince."

Harry must have understood the intentional shift of topics, because he quickly slipped into the same casual tone. "Why would that be so funny? I mean, you said they were pretty much friends by default, but haven't they been your friends since you were really young?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's perfectly natural to miss them." Harry clapped him on the shoulder once. "And who knows? Maybe you can talk some sense into them when we get back. You've been able to make them do pretty much anything you wanted your entire life, right? Maybe you can bring them around on this."

Draco shrugged to himself, but was able to delay his response for a moment while he manoeuvred his way through a small gully. After a moment, though, he could feel the pressure of Harry's gaze, demanding a response. He sighed. "I don't know. I guess I always figured we were friends because our parents were in the same social circles. Just... took it for granted that they'd always be there. I'm out of that circle now."

"But surely, in all the time you spent together, you became more than just acquaintances?"

It was tempting to let himself believe that, but Draco knew better. Still, he had shared some fond memories with his two favourite goons. "You know, when we were younger, before Hogwarts, Vincent came over to my house one day, crying. He'd been told to 'get out of the house, you worthless Squib of a boy' by his father. He hadn't shown signs of magic until he was eight, and his father was a bit harsh with him until he actually had his Hogwarts letter in his hands. I kinda took him under my wing that day, and started teaching him some of my favourite hexes using the wand my grandfather had given to me behind my father's back. It made him more confident, and he thought that maybe his father might even be proud of him someday. He was so loyal, he'd do anything for me."

Harry didn't say anything, and Draco was grateful that he could simply get wrapped up in the memory.

"Gregory is the smarter one. He can actually be somewhat cunning, when he's not looking for things to squish. I suspect that he'll dating Eleanor Bulstrode, Millie's little sister, by the end of the year. I don't want to see the children, though."

Harry actually chuckled at that, and Draco grinned. "Ron and Hermione, too, I'd suspect," Harry said, "if they ever figure it out at the same time."

This time, Draco laughed. "Everyone knows about those two. Obvious. Even I can tell they fight like a married couple. Sad, really. Those children are going to have the worst hair -"

"Draco!" Harry snapped, but Draco could tell he was entertaining the image of a gaggle of children, all with puffy ginger hair. "And what about you? Does dear old Pansy Parkinson have no chance of eternal marital bliss?"

Instantaneously, Draco's stomach churned at the thought. "I have already explained to you, Potter, that I put up with Pansy's simpering because it kept my father satisfied. Besides, the more I pushed Pansy away, the harder she clung. I wouldn't even inflict that pug-faced limpet on Vincent."

"You're never going to tell me who you want to date, are you?"

Draco glared at Harry with a hooded expression. "Let me put it to you this way: there are no girls in Hogwarts in whom I have any interest."

"Well, maybe you could turn Crabbe into a girl," Harry said without missing a beat.

Draco almost tripped over his own feet, and he stopped short. "I don't know if that image makes me want to cry, or vomit."

"Well, if you're going to throw up, please aim in the other direction."

Draco scowled and said, "Your sympathy is astounding. Besides, if Vince were a girl, Gregory would forget all about Eleanor."

"Hmm, I always thought those two were pretty close," Harry said offhandedly.

Surprised to hear Harry say that, Draco raised an eyebrow. "You know, I did find them asleep in a tiny closet together once, without their robes."

"Really?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Yeah. It was the weirdest thing too. They had been acting funny all evening, and suddenly they ran off together. I finally found them in the closet. Took me forever to wake them up and they had cake icing all over their faces."

For an instant, Harry had the most dumbstruck look plastered across his face, a second before he collapsed against the nearest tree, laughing so hard that tears squeezed out the corners of his eyes. "Oh my... I totally forgot about... I should have thought of it... hahaha!"

Draco stood staring, wondering if Harry had finally cracked. "Er, Harry?

"That's the funniest... I can't believe they were still... ha!"

"Would you kindly explain this insanely funny joke, because I seem to be missing something," Draco said, with just a touch of impatience.

After another moment of uncontrolled laughter, Harry quieted himself, leaned forward, and hauled himself to his feet. "Long story," he said in a rush, still out of breath. He glanced down, as though noticing something out of the corner of his eye. "Look! Periwinkle!"

It only took Draco a split second to realize that Harry was not merely using a diversionary tactic; he'd actually found the plant. Draco's curiosity about Harry's outburst of laughter was quickly overrun by a surge of elation. He knelt as quickly as he could and began carefully harvesting the small blue flowers, stems and all.

"Only two ingredients left," Harry said quietly, as he pulled up the tiny plants. "Just two more." He looked up at Draco. "We can really do this, can't we?"

Draco looked from Harry, to the flowers in his hand, and back to Harry. Mustering the bravest smile he could, he nodded. "Yes, we can."

As Draco removed his handkerchief from his pocket, into which he would fold the Sorcerer's Violet, he kept glancing over at Harry. It was good to see him laugh again. That was the Harry he was starting to care for so much, and that was the Harry he needed to see right now.

Once the flowers had been tucked away, and both of them were back on their feet, walking, Draco elbowed Harry lightly. "So, Potter, tell me what the hell you did to Vince and Gregory."

"Er..."

*********

By the time Harry finished explaining the Polyjuice incident, Draco was so amused that he found himself mentally congratulating Harry on his brilliant plan. Or more specifically, Granger's brilliant plan. Of course, he was still miffed by the fact that Harry Potter had managed to sneak into the Slytherin common room right under his nose, but the image of Vincent and Gregory stuffing their faces with potion-laced sweets... it was just too good.

"I always told them that their appetites would be the death of them," Draco exclaimed melodramatically.

"Come on now, we didn't poison them."

"Well, that's probably because Granger brewed the potion. If you or Weasley had done it..." He let his voice trail off suggestively, which earned him a good-natured shove. "Hey, easy there! I'm broken, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," Harry said lightly. "How's it feeling?"

"I feel like I could dance the Wizard's Waltz." At Harry's scornful look of disapproval, Draco rolled his eyes. "It's no better, no worse. I'll be fine until we have to climb the next hill."

"I think we'll be able to stick to this valley for a while, actually," Harry said as he pulled out his wand. He incanted a quick "Point Me" and nodded his satisfaction. "It's going pretty much due south."

"That's fine... Harry, do you remember Professor Sprout saying anything about where these plants usually grow?"

"Not a thing." Harry stepped over a log and offered a hand to help Draco over. "I mean, mistletoe usually grows on large trees, right? Those are all over the place, so it's just a matter of finding it. But I have no idea the kind of terrain where we'd find yew."

Draco grunted as he shifted his weight onto his bad ankle, then breathed in relief when he finally had both feet and his cane on the ground again. "Well, there are plenty of trees around here that might have mistletoe... but the only places I've ever seen yew have been in old graveyards. There used to be some on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, but my mother had them removed."

"Ah," Harry said absently. "I wonder why."

"Not a clue. I think she said she didn't like the magic they gave off. Maybe they made her think of death. Not exactly a pleasant thought every time you want to go for a stroll through the gardens."

"Voldemort's wand is made of yew."

At that, Draco raised an eyebrow. "And how did you stumble across that little bit of information?"

Harry merely shrugged, and Draco took it as a hint that Harry really didn't care to discuss the details. After a moment, Harry said, "His wand has the same core as mine, though. Feathers from the same phoenix. But mine is made of holly."

"Holly, huh?" Draco mused aloud, processing the information. "That's some really interesting symbolism. I'll have to look that up when we get back home."

"Interesting in what way?"

"Well, it's just interesting because yew is largely considered a tree of death, whereas holly has some strong protective magic. I don't know too much about it, but like I said, I'll look it up when we get home."

"Home... Hogwarts?"

Immediately, Draco felt his stomach jump. "You know what I meant. Yeah, Hogwarts."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "Draco, do you think you'll ever go back home?"

The question was so sudden that Draco began to answer before he realized what had been asked. "Well, I - oh." He tried to scowl, but barely managed a sullen frown. "Half of me desperately wants to, and the other half is too afraid. Maybe, someday... if You - no, when You-Know-Who is gone, I'll be able to go back."

Harry nodded grimly. "Well, I suppose that means I'll have to beat him, doesn't it?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "That's not exactly the reason I'd expect you to use for motivation to beat him."

"But it's as good a reason as any, right?"

"Not really."

"Then what is a good reason?" Harry said crossly. "I have to beat him, because that stupid prophecy says so, and I want to beat him for more reasons than I can count, so why not add one more to the pile?"

"Well, when you say it like that... okay. Just make sure my reason is at the top of the list, because you know I come first, right?"

"Absolutely," Harry said, sounding dead serious, but then he suddenly reached over and gently patted Draco on the top of the head in the most patronizing manner possible.

"Cut that out!" Draco snapped, batting Harry's hand away like a buzzing gnat.

"Sure," Harry said, but an instant later, he reached over and thoroughly ruffled Draco's hair.

"Merlin! No!" Draco cried in mock-horror. "Anything but the hair! Y'er killin' me! Aaaah!" He shoved Harry, and made a huge fuss over straightening his hair as best he could.

Harry was laughing at him heartily. "Come on, Draco. You know that messy hair is the latest fashion. All the rage. The girls love it. Maybe you could even dye yours black."

Draco turned his head away and refused to meet Harry's amused gaze. "Absolute fashion atrocity," he grumbled to himself. "How you can even be allowed out in public with a mop like that is beyond me. And to suggest that I would ever alter my fine, trademarked locks, for any reason -"

He was cut off by the sound of a branch breaking, and a sharp, surprised yell.

"Harry!" Draco spun around to look where Harry was standing a moment before, but there was nobody. Then a groan. "Harry?"

"Down here... just what I need... another bloody hole in the ground. Ow, my arse."

Draco took a step and looked down, and was amazed that he hadn't noticed it before. Harry was sitting in a large, broad, square-shaped hole about six feet deep, so thickly overgrown with vines and filled with plant growth that it blended almost completely with the landscape.

"I think this is the foundation of an old house," Harry said, getting to his feet awkwardly, rubbing his rear end. "Damn, that hurts. Should teach me to watch where I'm going. But look, you can see some stones beneath the vines here. It looks like there used to be a cabin here, ages ago."

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

"Fine. Really," Harry said distractedly, still rubbing his backside as he took in his surroundings. "Gonna have a nasty bruise there, but that's it. Plants padded the landing. I wonder what the remains of a cabin are doing all the way out here?"

"Don't know," Draco answered. He looked up and glanced around the area. At first, he saw nothing unusual, but on closer inspection... "There's a stone wall a little ways over there," he said, pointing over his shoulder. "And I might be wrong, but I think that's another foundation a little ways further."

"Wonderful," Harry said, although his tone of voice indicated that he really didn't care. "Civilization. Just what we're looking for. Too bad we're, oh, a few hundred years too late."

"Actually, this might be a sign that we're getting close to Hogwarts. I mean, it's an ancient castle... I know there used to be surrounding villages."

Harry seemed to consider this. "Maybe you're right. But first I need to get out of this damned hole." He walked towards where Draco was standing above him, looking down.

Draco gave him a soft smirk. "You do have a habit of finding those things the hard way, don't you?"

Harry glowered. "Can you just shut up and give me a hand, already?"

Draco laughed and reached down. A moment later, with some grunting, he'd managed to pull Harry enough for him to climb the moss-slicked rocks lining the old foundation. "I actually remember seeing a really old map of the area around Hogwarts," Draco said as Harry dusted himself off. "It was in my father's library. It showed a small Muggle settlement about thirty miles north-by-northeast of Hogwarts, and this might be it. So at least we have an idea of where we might be."

"What happened to the place? Obviously, there are no Muggles here now."

"Well, there used to be Muggles in this part of Scotland, but in 1793, the Muggles started getting far too close to Hogwarts on hunting parties, so close that they could possibly have penetrated the illusions around the castle, especially if there was a unaware Muggle-born witch or wizard amongst them - didn't you ever read 'Hogwarts, A History'?"

Harry groaned. "Not you, too!"

"What?"

"Never mind. Just... go on. What were you saying?"

Draco shrugged off Harry's odd behaviour. "In short, the whole village was relocated, and the Muggles' memories were altered, and the illusions and Muggle-repelling charms were completely redesigned and strengthened."

"That doesn't seem quite right, somehow," Harry said with a touch of defiance. "Just moving an entire village without their consent." He started walking again, albeit awkwardly.

Draco shook his head to himself and quickly hobbled along until he'd caught up. "Why not? The Muggles didn't know any better, and we kept them from messing with our stuff. Would you want an armed hunting party of Muggles to suddenly arrive at the front door of Hogwarts?"

Harry opened his mouth, but by the twisted expression of displeasure, it was fairly obvious that he didn't have an answer he wanted to give. "I just don't approve of the idea of forcing people from their homes. Surely, there had to have been a better way."

Draco looked at Harry with a patient, yet patronizing expression. "When you think of one, you let me know. If the Muggles had continued to settle the area, they might have expanded out far enough to encroach on Hogsmeade. It was better to get them out early, and then give them the illusion that the entire region was inhospitable and uninhabitable. Could you imagine a full Muggle town, and their huge roads cutting through the area? Muggles accidentally walking into Hogsmeade? Or some young Muggle-born wizard who doesn't know any better leading his Muggle friends right onto the Quidditch pitch in the middle of a game? Endless problems, and you know it. There's a reason why the Muggles should be kept away from the wizarding world."

Harry muttered something under his breath.

Holding back a grin, Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What was that?"

"I said, 'you're right'," Harry snapped. He looked down at another deserted foundation as they passed by. "I just wish there was a better way."

"Harry, as long as there are differences between people, there are going to be reasons to keep those groups separate."

Harry's head shot up, his eyes blazing. "Really now?"

"Well, it just makes sense. And there are plenty of reasons why. Come on, Harry... didn't you just agree that keeping the Muggles away from the wizarding world was a good idea?"

Harry didn't seem fazed by this. "I can see how letting a Muggle community grow right next to Hogwarts might cause problems, but the way you just said that... do you know what racism is?"

"Huh?" Draco cocked his head in honest confusion.

Harry grimaced darkly. "Okay, think about it this way... is Blaise Zabini your friend?"

"Well, sure... or at least he was, as much as any other Slytherin in my year. And why wouldn't he be? Proper, pure-blooded wizard, from a family of strong wizards and witches."

"In other words, it doesn't make any difference to you what colour his skin is, right?"

If anything, this confused Draco even more. "Why would I care about that? The packaging doesn't matter. So he's black. It's what runs through your veins, not the colour of the wrapping."

"So if the blood is the same, the people are of equal value, right?"

"That's right," Draco replied, trying to sound sure of himself, but something in Harry's tone made him wary. Before he could say anything else, Harry had grabbed his dagger. "Harry, what -"

"I'm a half-blood, right?"

"Well, technically, yeah, I guess -"

"And you're a pure-blood."

"Of course, but what -"

"So our blood is different, right?"

Draco knew what he was going to do a split second before it happened. "Harry, wait!"

With the flash of the dagger, a bright red streak welled up in the palm of Harry's left hand. For a moment, Draco was afraid Harry was going to cut him, but instead, Harry handed the dagger to him, handle-first. "Your turn," he said flatly. "Prove to me that pure blood is different."

Compelled to do it, Draco didn't even wince as the blade cut into his hand, although the sight of his own blood made his stomach spin a bit. He didn't stare at it for long before Harry's uncut hand snaked out and seized him by the wrist. He pulled their cut hands next to each other. Two bright red slashes lay side by side, glistening in the afternoon light. They were identical in every way: the shade, the hue, the way the crimson liquid slowly pooled in the cups of their hands.

"Well, what do you know," Harry said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "They both look like blood to me. And here's a newsflash, Draco: Muggles' blood looks exactly the same. And by whatever grace or curse some so-called 'pure-bloods' have Squib children, or Muggles sometimes give birth to witches and wizards, I'll guess it has nothing to do with the blood itself. Maybe magic has a will of its own. Who knows why some people are born with magic, and some aren't? If you woke up tomorrow morning, and suddenly, you couldn't cast a single spell, would that make you any less of a human being?"

Stunned by the onslaught, Draco stammered the first response that came to mind. "My... my father would say so. He would disown me."

For just a moment, Harry's hard glare softened. "I wouldn't, you know." Then he scowled again. "And you already know what I think of your father anyway. But what if you had been born to Muggles? Luck of the draw. Born to Muggles, but you could do magic... wouldn't you want to learn to use that skill?"

"I..." Any stupid excuse he could think of was abruptly cut short by the look on Harry's face. Draco sighed. "All right, yes, I would. I get it, Potter. You win." Draco withdrew his hand and tipped it, letting the blood drip to the ground. "You always win," he added sullenly.

"No, I don't. I already agreed that there was a good reason to keep Muggles out of the thick of the wizarding world, but... at the most basic level, we're all just human, right?"

"I suppose," Draco mumbled. "I still don't like them."

Harry shook his head. "Maybe someday." He held up his injured hand, and suddenly looked a bit sheepish. "Would you... er... mind fixing it? You're good at cuts and scrapes, if I remember correctly."

Draco took a deep breath and forced himself to relax a bit. He pulled out his wand, aimed it at Harry's hand, and an instant later, the cut had healed without a trace. Barely speaking above a whisper, he repeated the charm on his own hand, and charmed away the excess blood. For a long moment, Draco looked at the palm of his hand; it was perfectly smooth, not even a hint of a scar. He wondered what it must be like for Muggles, who would have to let something like that heal naturally, and how long it must take. A day? More? Draco didn't know. He had never been without magic. Such an existence suddenly seemed rather daunting.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Harry started to walk again. As Draco fell into step, he felt the now familiar twinge in his ankle with each movement, and was hit again by how accustomed he was to having everything fixed instantly with magic. How many times had he been told that magic couldn't fix everything? Quite a few, he reasoned, but the people saying such things were usually professors - people who wanted him to do work for himself. His father had always told him that magic and power were the answers to all life's problems. Draco grimaced at the thought. Once again, his father was wrong about something. He hated such thoughts. Hoping to distract himself, he glanced aside at Harry, who was looking straight forward as he walked, with the most serious expression on his face.

"Draco, did you know that Muggles used to kill or enslave each other for differences as minor as skin colour? And religion? Whole races would deem themselves superior to others."

That was certainly a distraction. "What? You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not. Some of them still do."

Draco sneered at the sheer stupidity of it. "And what kind of excuse did those barbarians have?"

Harry gave him a look of supreme distaste. "Does it matter? They're just Muggles, right?"

"Harry, will you please just make your point, okay? I'm sure even Muggles would have some reason or rationale for that sort of shit, even if their excuse was pathetic."

"Oh, sure, they had plenty of reasons. The usual, you know. How groups of people who had different skin colours, or were of different religions, were inherently different, and therefore inferior. If groups and cultures were different, they should be kept apart if possible, or controlled when convenient, or even enslaved and killed when it suited the more powerful group."

"That's... that's... oh, shit. That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, still not looking at Draco. "Only a few decades ago, millions of people were killed, all in the name of 'pure blood'. And these were Muggles, talking about other Muggles, killing other Muggles. Eleven million, or more, dead. For no good reason."

"Wait a minute... a few decades ago..." Draco said slowly. "Some madman named Hister, right?"

"Hitler. But yeah."

Draco felt himself go numb, like his veins had just started flowing with ice water. "My father told me about that. He... he said that Grindelwald had started working with some Muggle leader on the mainland of Europe, using the Muggles to help wipe out more Muggles... but father said that the plan never got very far." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "I never knew... there were so many... eleven million?"

He looked over at Harry, who didn't seem to be doing much better. In fact, Harry was a distinct shade of green. "That... was a wizard behind the Holocaust?"

It was all Draco could do to nod.

Harry looked like he was going to cry. Or to be sick. Or maybe both. He swallowed once, and spoke like he couldn't get quite enough air in his lungs. "We need to keep going. We have to get home."

"Yeah."

"I remember Professor Binns saying in History of Magic... the one thing I do remember from that class... mostly because I heard Voldemort's name and I woke up... is that Voldemort is worse than Grindelwald. If anything is worse than causing the deaths of over eleven million people, and causing the largest war the world has ever known... Draco, we can't let him win. My god... we have to stop him."

Draco had never heard Harry speak with such fervour before. It was as if the scale of the fight had just taken on entirely new proportions. Even Draco couldn't ignore it. It had never really occurred to him how much bloodshed there could really be. Eleven million. All he'd ever personally wanted was to keep the Mudbloods out of Hogwarts, and not to be bested by one of them. It had never occurred to him just how serious this was. Suddenly, thinking about that much bloodshed, the purity of the blood in question didn't seem so important anymore. Draco steeled his resolve. "We will, Harry. We will."

*********

They walked in silence through the remains of the village. Occasionally, they could see where there had once been roads, including some cobblestone pathways that had not been completely consumed by time and nature, one of which they began following through the town. Fields had mostly long ago become forest, but could be distinguished by the stone walls criss-crossing the land. The rims of wells still dotted the village here and there, but they were filled with dead leaves and thick foliage. And of course there were the foundations of old houses and cottages. Everything else was gone. In the lengthening shadows of the evening, it looked dead; the dry skeleton of a town. And in light of their discussion only a short while ago, it gave Draco a severe case of the creeps.

"I'll be glad when we get through here," Draco said, as much to himself as to Harry. "It's a bit eerie."

"I know what you mean," Harry said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Feels like a graveyard."

Harry made a noise in his throat, but didn't actually say anything. Draco grimaced, and looked down, deciding to keep his eyes on the path at his feet; it was better than looking around. Still, even the silence of the dead village was oppressive, and Harry wasn't helping. They just needed to get beyond the edge of the old village and back into the regular forest to resume their search. In the meantime, Draco couldn't shake the feel that the relics of the Muggle settlement were ancient gravestones, marking the ghosts of the past.

"Shit," Harry breathed.

Draco's head snapped up. "What?" He looked around nervously as his hazy fears of the ghostly village solidified in his stomach. There was no sign of anything out of place; no immediate threats. He glanced at his companion. "Harry?"

Harry was staring straight ahead, eyes wide, looking as if he'd just seen Voldemort himself. He didn't say anything, but merely pointed. Draco followed the line of his finger. At first, he didn't see anything. Then he saw the characteristic arch shape of an old-fashioned gravestone. It was an old Muggle graveyard. And growing around the edges of the graveyard -

"Yew trees!" Draco exclaimed. Forgetting everything else, he hurried forward as fast as his ankle would allow. He reached the edge of the graveyard quickly and went straight to the nearest tree. They were large and disgustingly overgrown, but the species was unmistakable. Draco was taking his dagger from his belt to remove a bough when he noticed that Harry wasn't there. He looked back over his shoulder. "Harry?"

Harry was standing back on the path, looking pale, almost haunted. He hadn't moved from where he'd stood when he'd pointed to the graveyard.

"Harry, are you coming?"

Harry gave a stiff nod and began walking towards Draco. Satisfied that Harry had got over whatever was bothering him, Draco turned back to the task of cutting through the stringy wood. Perhaps Harry was just stunned to have run across the second to last ingredient so suddenly. It was a surprise, but certainly nothing to be upset about.

The crunch of dead leaves behind him assured Draco that Harry had caught up. A few seconds later, however, Draco heard a muffled gasp. He abandoned the branch, turned, and saw a very disconcerting sight.

Harry was leaning heavily on a gravestone, his back towards Draco. His shoulders were rising and falling rapidly with shallow breaths, and it looked like his knees were going to buckle.

The yew branch all but forgotten, Draco stumbled over to Harry. He was about to grab Harry by the shoulder, but stopped just short. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, deliberating. "Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

Worry got the better of Draco's discretion, and he walked around behind the gravestone so he could see Harry's face. Harry's face was still pale, and his eyes were unfocused, as though he was seeing something far away, or, as Draco suspected, long ago.

"What is it, Harry?"

"I... mentioned it to you once," Harry said breathlessly. "Although I didn't go into it much. Not something I ever wanted to talk about."

"I don't know what you're talking about. What did you tell me?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." He sounded even more agitated.

"Tell me?" Draco said as gently as he could. "Please?"

Harry shook his head again. "I just want to get out of here. Get the yew, and let's get out of here. I really need to get out of here."

Feeling uneasy about Harry's staunch silence, both for Harry's sake, and for his own damnable curiosity, Draco started to step away, but he hesitated. "Harry -"

"Please, Draco. NOW!"

"Okay, I'm going!" Draco replied, not having any inclination to argue. "Just let me finish cutting that branch. It'll only take a moment."

Harry nodded, and stood his ground, although every line of his posture clearly displayed how ready he was to run. Draco frowned at the sight, but turned to the tree and finished his task without a word. Finally, with the branch tucked neatly into the travel sack, he followed Harry out of the graveyard, and into the lengthening shadows of the evening.

*********

With the tent set up, and supper eaten, there was nothing left to do but to go to sleep. However, it was plainly obvious that neither of them was going to fall asleep anytime soon, especially Harry. He'd barely touched his sandwich; only with significant prompting was Draco able to get him to eat anything at all. He kept picking up twigs and snapping them into tiny sections until Draco demanded he stop that maddening behaviour. Without any other acknowledgement, he tossed aside the twig he was currently demolishing, and pulled out his wand. Draco watched him for ten minutes as he stared into the purple flames of a low-light fire while he twisted the handle of his wand between his fingers.

"Planning to hex me?" Draco asked ruefully.

"Huh?" Harry looked up, blinking, as though he'd just been awoken.

Draco snorted in amusement and ripped up a few blades of grass. He began tossing the bits of grass into the fire, one by one. With each piece, the fire turned briefly from dark purple to dark green, then back again. "I was just trying to get your attention."

"Oh. Well, you could have just said, 'Hey, Harry, can I talk to you?'"

Draco smiled tiredly and shifted his seat. "Yeah, but that was more amusing. Are you going to tell me why you've got your wand out like you're expecting a fight at any moment?"

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. "Just holding it."

"Ah," said Draco, intentionally sounding unconvinced.

Harry said nothing, and finally, he decided it was best to simply broach the topic directly. "So, are you going to tell me what happened back there?"

"Back where?" Harry said defensively.

His tone made it obvious that he knew exactly what Draco was referring to, which only irritated Draco further. "Don't make me spell it out. The graveyard. Your little breakdown there. What was going on?"

"I've already told you as much about it as I want to."

"You didn't tell me anything!"

Harry frowned at him. "I did, back while we were in the dungeon... about that scar on my arm. The one that Wormtail left, when he took my blood... to bring back Voldemort."

That only confused Draco more. "But why would that bother you now?"

For a long moment, Harry sat silent. "It happened in a graveyard," he finally said. "Just like that one - old, overgrown, weather-worn headstones, yew trees. It... really made me uncomfortable."

Understanding dawned on Draco. "Oh."

"I couldn't believe it bothered me so much."

"It's understandable," Draco said. "Besides, you're already exhausted and stressed... things would be more likely to bother you now. It's okay."

"No, no, it's not. It happened over a year ago. Should be fine now." Harry shook his head as if trying to clear it, and fell silent again.

Draco looked on Harry sadly, deliberating on whether he should let Harry keep his silence, or try to dig the information out of him. He decided on the middle path. "If you want to tell me about it, I'll listen."

For a long moment, Harry looked much the same as if he were trying to resist the Imperius Curse. Finally, without making eye contact, he spoke.

"The Portkey dropped Cedric and me in the middle of an old graveyard, and suddenly, my scar started burning as bad as it ever had. I couldn't see, I could barely function. That's when Wormtail killed Cedric. Then he... he..." Harry's voice trailed off.

There was so much pain in Harry's voice; each word sounded like it was being dragged out of him forcibly, but Draco wanted to hear it, as much as he knew that Harry needed to say it. "What happened, Harry?"

"It hurt so much, I couldn't even think straight. I didn't even try to fight back as Wormtail dragged me over to the gravestone and tied me to it. He gagged me - I couldn't even scream, for all the good it would have done. Then... he set up the cauldron and began this ritual. Bone fragments from Voldemort's father's grave. Then Wormtail... ugh, this almost made me gag... he cut off his own hand. I closed my eyes, but I knew what had happened. He screamed when he did it. And then he came for me."

"That's when he took your blood, isn't it?" A deep shudder ran through Harry in affirmation, and Draco winced in sympathy.

"I couldn't move; I couldn't fight." Harry sounded detached, his voice flat, like he was reading the words off a parchment. "I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him. I was helpless. And when Voldemort emerged from the cauldron... the Death Eaters arrived. He used the Cruciatus Curse on me in front of them, while I was tied up. Nothing I could do. Nothing. I wanted to fight him... and I got my wish. He had them untie me... and he gave me my wand back... and asked if I'd been taught to duel. And we duelled."

Harry's voice finally broke off, and the only sound in the campsite was Harry's shallow breathing and the rustle of leaves. Draco didn't need to ask any more questions. He finally understood. For a long moment, he sat silent, letting Harry's words sink in, while Harry processed his own thoughts. Finally, Harry coughed once, twice, and his eyes regained focus, as if he'd come back to reality.

"I haven't spoken about this since the night it happened," he said quietly. "I told Sirius, and Dumbledore, right after it happened... but everything was a blur just then. I'd duelled with Voldemort, I'd seen echoes of the people he'd killed, including my parents, and I barely escaped. I've tried to forget about it all this time, but I couldn't." He looked up at Draco, his face pale in the firelight. "I'm sorry."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"For breaking down. Back there, in the graveyard. I'd... sworn that I would never say so much about that again." Harry took a deep breath. "I didn't want to ever mention it to anyone. It was so awful."

Deciding that he could touch Harry now, Draco reached over and laid a hand tentatively on Harry's shoulder. "You needed to do that."

Harry looked confused for a moment, and then it appeared he was going to argue, but he finally let his head drop. "Yeah," he said, although he didn't quite seem to mean it.

Draco looked at Harry sadly, seeing the exhaustion in his shoulders, the guilt, anger, and sorrow evident in his face. Harry wasn't ready to let it go. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to let it go; those emotions might be one more element driving him in his desire to defeat Voldemort. Perhaps that was one more element in the fate assigned to Harry Potter. Draco shuddered at the thought, and for the first time since he'd heard Harry's full name, Draco felt no desire whatsoever to trade roles with the Boy Who Lived. No amount of fame or notoriety was worth all this.

In a flash, Draco found himself wanting to reach out and wrap Harry in his arms, as if by willpower alone, he could protect Harry from his fate. As quickly as that thought entered his head, however, he squashed it. If Harry was going to be able to stand against the Dark Lord, he needed the strength to stand on his own two feet, not the coddling that would encourage weakness.

That's your father talking, a little voice reminded him. "You can't fight everything," Draco said gently.

"I think I'd like a fight though," Harry said. There was an angry edge to his voice suddenly. "Better than all this waiting."

"Well..." Draco ventured slowly, "I'd offer to wrestle, but I don't think my ankle would accommodate that sort of activity."

Harry blinked again, although this time, his expression was different. "That doesn't seem like the dignified sort of thing I'd expect to see you doing."

Draco felt a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. "I've actually never done something like that before. It was too 'crude' an activity... although Vince and Gregory used to do it. Honestly, it looked like fun. The closest I ever got was that fistfight with you... and fun had nothing to do with that."

Harry had been starting to smile, but his face quickly fell neutral again after that reminder. "You know what I'm talking about. I just feel like I'm not doing anything."

"You are. Harry, we only have one more ingredient to collect, and then the brewing of the potion takes about two and a half hours. In the meantime, the best thing you - and I - can do is to rest."

"You don't look like you're getting ready to sleep either," Harry snapped.

Suppressing a groan, Draco tipped his head back. "Probably because you've got enough jitters to keep us both awake."

"I don't think so," Harry said flatly, but not as sharply as before. "You've got your own worries."

As simply as that, Draco felt like the spotlight had been turned on him, and he could feel himself shrinking back against the tree trunk behind him. "I'm not worried about the potion," he said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Harry shook his head. "You're worried about that, and you're worried about what will happen when we get back. I told you, it'll be okay."

"And -"

"Your parents," Harry said, his voice suddenly gentle. "I know. Draco... what if I promised it would all be okay?"

"How can you promise -" Draco started to protest, but then something in Harry's tone stopped him from objecting further. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"I mean... I've just got this feeling... like if we get back to Hogwarts... everything will be okay. I'm sure of it."

"Don't try to fool me. I know you suck at Divination, Potter."

Harry only smiled. "This isn't Divination. I've just got a feeling. Like instinct."

"Really." Draco's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Well, Potter, tell me about this 'feeling' of yours," he drawled, trying to sound sarcastic. "What does your instinct tell you?"

The smile faded from Harry's face to a careful mask of indifference. "Well," he said slowly, "My instinct told me that we were going to escape from Voldemort."

Liar, Draco wanted to say, but he didn't. Maybe Harry had felt like they'd get out, somehow. It could be true. At least, Draco wanted to believe that Harry had known. He tipped his head slightly, indicating for Harry to continue.

"My instinct told me that we were going to outrun the Death Eaters."

This time, Draco nodded.

"I knew the snakebite antidote was going to work."

"True..."

Harry leaned forward a bit, purple shadows from the fire playing around the contours of his face. "I know we're going to get the last ingredient. I know the potion is going to work."

"Yes," Draco whispered, so softly, he wasn't sure if Harry heard him.

Harry must have heard, because he actually came forward to kneel next to Draco, making eye contact through the darkness. "I know we're going to get home alive. And I know everything is going to be okay."

Something in the way Harry had said it didn't allow for argument, although Draco's heart was beating a bit faster than usual. Before the words even registered, he'd said aloud, "I believe you. But... why? How can you be so sure?"

Finally, Harry smiled again. "Because I trust you, and I believe you. You said it would all work out, right? So I'm just returning the advice. And you mean enough to me that I'm gonna be damn sure everything will be okay when we get home. I'm not going to let it be any other way." He laughed, but it sounded a bit uneasy. "I hope I don't need to clarify that, you prat."

It took Draco a moment to realize that he wasn't quite breathing. He shuddered, coughed. "I think we both need to get some sleep," he said.

Harry sat back, and nodded. "I know. I just can't."

"I could give you a sleeping charm, if you want."

Harry suddenly looked wary. "I don't want to be charmed to sleep, and unable to wake up if something happens."

Draco shook his head. "It's not like that. It's a sleep-aid charm. It helps you fall asleep by relaxing you, but once you're asleep, the magic itself wears off so you can wake up normally."

"Well, I suppose that wouldn't hurt... I just don't like people casting spells on me that... er... take away some of my control."

Draco nodded. "I can understand that, especially for you. It's a very mild spell. You just feel kinda warm, and relaxed, and it just helps you fall asleep when you want to. It doesn't make you feel like you're not yourself or anything."

Harry still looked uncertain. "I don't know..."

"You need some sleep, Harry."

"So do you," Harry bit back, sounding defensive.

"I promise, I'll go to sleep as soon as you're snoring."

Harry scowled. "I don't snore."

At that, Draco laughed. "You do when you're sleeping on your back."

"Well then," Harry said, sounding distinctly offended, "I'll be sure to sleep on my back, just to keep you awake."

"So does that mean you'll let me use the charm?"

For a moment, it looked like Harry was going to refuse, but then, with the scowl still firmly affixed on his face, he grabbed the cloak, wrapped it around his shoulders, crawled into the tent, and flopped down on his side. "Fine, go ahead. Be my guest."

Laughing softly, Draco pulled out his wand. "If I charm you with your face twisted up like that, it might stick that way."

The scowl melted into a look of apprehension. "It wouldn't!"

"No, it wouldn't. But your reaction was worth the threat. Now, just relax." He aimed his wand at Harry's forehead, who flinched, and muttered, "Sommeilis." The effect was immediate. He could see the tension in Harry's face and posture drain away. A moment later, a yawn split Harry's face.

"Mmm, you're right," Harry muttered. "'s feels pretty good. Kinda warm and fuzzy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I think an 'I told you so' is in order."

"No need to get like that," Harry said, sounding even drowsier. "Told you I trust you. Just... mmm... need a nap."

Draco laughed lightly and pulled the cloak tighter around Harry's shoulders as the other boy snuggled down beneath it. "Thanks, Draco."

"Anytime, Harry. Anytime."

Harry's eyes drifted shut, and the last bits of tension drained away from his body. Draco looked on, feeling protectiveness welling up in his chest, as well as a melancholy sort of worry. He reached over and softly removed Harry's glasses, folded them, and placed them by the opening of the tent. Harry's face looked so innocent while he was asleep, and the image called to mind the first time Draco had seen his face like that: the night he'd captured Harry. He'd taken Harry's glasses, and had dropped Harry on the floor of the cell. By all appearances, he had seemed to be asleep, but in reality, he'd been drugged. The stark contrast between that night, barely three short weeks ago, and now, looking down on the face of a sleeping friend, stirred something in Draco far deeper than protectiveness. There was the guilt over what he'd done, but it was far overshadowed by something he couldn't quite name. Whatever it was, it ran thick and hot.

In an attempt to distract himself from the odd sensation working its way through his chest, Draco reached into the front pouch of the sack and rummaged around. He was finally rewarded by the feel of a small, furry object between his fingers. He pulled it out, placed it in the palm of his hand, aimed his wand, and removed the Shrinking Charm from the object. A second later, a hideously ugly teddy bear was precariously balanced in his hand. Smiling, he reached over to the cloak, lifted it, and gently tucked the teddy bear under Harry's arm. To Draco's pleasure, Harry pulled the teddy tighter against himself.

Draco was just sitting back against the tree again when Harry mumbled aloud, "Thanks, Draco. Th's nice."

"You're welcome," Draco replied, feeling the hot sensation grow even stronger. "Goodnight, Harry."

"G'night, Draco. Mmm... love you."

In a split second, Draco felt every nerve in his body jolt. Harry hadn't just said that. It was a trick of Draco's over-exhausted imagination. Or maybe Harry had just been so far gone, so close to sleep, that he'd muttered whatever had come to mind.

He stared at Harry, who was already snoring softly. That was it. Harry was already fast asleep, and was probably talking in his sleep. Maybe he was even dreaming of when he was a child, and in his dream, his mum was giving him a teddy bear before bed, and he was telling his mum he loved her.

But he said my name.

While Draco was rapidly going through every excuse why Harry couldn't possibly have said... what Draco thought he'd said... it dawned on Draco that the comment really didn't bother him. Not at all. It actually stirred in him the same odd, warm feeling that had been plaguing him lately whenever he let himself think about Harry too much. It was a feeling that he hadn't wanted to put to words. Giving it voice would make it all too real, too undeniable. Hearing Harry say it was close enough. That was if Harry had said that. Which he hadn't. But if he had...

Well, I guess Harry finally did manage to surprise me after all.

Feeling very uncomfortable, yet still strangely warm, Draco finally forced himself to sit back, and distracted himself by working on his nightly healing charms on his ankle. They didn't fix the damage, but they kept the pain and swelling down enough for him to hobble on it. With that done, he re-cast the splint-charm, and was left with nothing to do but to think.

Sure, he'd promised Harry he would go to sleep, but now - especially now - he just couldn't. So many things were bouncing around in his head. So many things had changed in the past three weeks, and they kept changing by the minute, it seemed. He was so far out of his usual frame of reference that there was no way he could possibly make sense of it all. And then, what Harry had said... Draco didn't know what to make of it. He wasn't even sure if Harry would remember in the morning. Just like he couldn't be sure of the fate of his parents, the effectiveness of his plan, or his own safety. The one thing he could be sure of was that he was in deep. Very deep.

But then, he'd been in over his head since the moment he'd taken on the task of abducting Harry. Still deeper since the second he'd stabbed Harry. And practically drowning since the moment he'd taken Harry from the cell.

Feeling a bit dizzy from everything spinning in his head, and the heat that still hadn't faded from his chest, he leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd just fall asleep like that. Just drift off, and let all his turmoil wait until morning when he could deal with it.

He was just starting to feel himself relax a bit when the snap of a nearby branch jolted him fully awake. He hadn't even fully opened his eyes before he grabbed his wand and aimed it. "Don't move or I'll kill you," he snarled at the source of the movement.

A second later, his eyes focused on the face of the man standing there, only feet away from him. He was unshaven and unkempt, looking far more rodent-like than Draco remembered from the last time he had seen the man in human form. Wormtail.

"You have been following us!" Draco snarled, scrambling painfully to his feet, keeping his wand aimed level at the Death Eater.

"Shh," said the older man, looking flustered as usual, but keeping his voice quiet. "Unless you w-want to wake up your exhausted friend there. I h-hadn't intended to wake him."

Not quite knowing why he'd go along with it, Draco lowered his voice, but not his wand. "Oh, because he'd kill you faster than I would?"

"P-Potter let me go last time...as he told you. And if you remember, y-you let me go too."

The reminder hit Draco unexpectedly, even though he'd known it all along. He kept his eyes carefully narrowed, but he couldn't keep all the surprise from his voice. "That was you - helping with the rope at the cave-in. Wasn't it?"

Wormtail gave a halting nod. "I have a life debt to fulfil."

This time, Draco's eyes widened. "Harry said that. I... didn't quite believe him."

"Potter d-doesn't quite understand the strength of the d-debt. I have to."

This was something Draco could understand. Nobody could live with an unfulfilled life debt - not without going completely mad. To let one's charge die, when the debt-holder might be able to prevent it, could even result in the death of the debt-holder. So it was true: Wormtail was following to make sure that Harry survived, otherwise he'd risk insanity or death. But that didn't mean he had any sort of reason to keep Draco alive. Draco's guard, which had dropped by a fraction, snapped back up.

"What do you want now?" Draco growled, low and angry. He still had his wand aimed directly at the Death Eater's heart.

"I - I meant to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you. I don't trust you. You may have a life debt to Harry, but if you get the chance, you'll turn me in. You'll gain all your power and glory and all that shit with the Dark Lord."

"The D-Dark Lord would k-kill me, even if I brought you back."

"Oh, so then you're just here to kill me and be done with it?"

If anything, Wormtail looked irritated. "In c-case you hadn't noticed... I'm unarmed." He held out his hands, showing them empty. "I've not come here to t-turn you in to the Dark Lord, or to kill you. If I had p-planned to do that, I could have at any time."

Draco deliberated on this as his fingers milked the handle of his wand tensely. "Then why didn't you? Aside from your damned life debt? Why didn't you turn me in? I'm sure you could have done something to make your story look good to your dear old boss; some excuse why you were showing up with me and not Harry."

Wormtail was warily eyeing the tip of Draco's wand, his face twitching in nervous spasms. Draco frowned.

"Well?"

"I did not b-bring you back," he said slowly, "because I knew you were the best chance Potter had."

The impact of those words was not lost on Draco, who felt his grip on his wand slacken. "What do you mean?"

Wormtail actually rolled his eyes at that. "Stupid boy! Do you honestly think that either of you c-could have survived this journey alone? I have interfered as little as possible, but how many times have you and P-Potter saved each other's lives?"

Draco was still so busy digesting this that he didn't even react as Wormtail laughed at him quietly and sat down by the fire. This was unbelievable. He had Harry sleeping soundly, and not ten feet away, one of the most notorious - if bumbling - Death Eaters was sitting back, warming his toes by the campfire. Draco shook his head to himself. Unbelievable.

Not altogether sure that this was the best idea, Draco slowly lowered himself and sat down, never taking his wand off the rat-faced little man sitting across from him. "So, you came to talk. Talk."

"D-do you know why I joined the Death Eaters, Malfoy?"

"I wouldn't say I've been graced by the tale," Draco drawled sarcastically. "Is this my bedtime story?"

"Boy, I'm trying to tell you something useful."

Draco, trying not to look either too interested, or disinterested, simply inclined his head. Wormtail huffed indignantly, but he settled in.

"James P-Potter, Harry's father, used to be my best f-friend. The Dark Lord discovered this while he was trying to track down the Potters. He offered me reward, beyond my wildest dreams, if I helped him - and d-death if I refused."

The Death Eater gave a tentative pause, and Draco motioned for him to continue with a flick of his wand. He was pleased to see Wormtail flinch at the gesture.

"I cared about James. Very much. I was... enamoured with him. I should have known anyway. I was not good enough for James. Not female enough either. I was upset when he began to court Lily, and when they m-married, I became resentful." He laughed bitterly. "I had always been the last of our small circle of friends. The lowest of us. When Harry was born, it seemed I was all but forgotten. I m-meant to ignore my disappointment, but the Dark Lord... he made it f-feel worse. M-much worse. He can play with your mind. Y-you know that. He made me think that James had r-rejected me out of spite, out of malice. That James had snubbed me. So when he finally c-came to me himself, w-with the ultimatum, I thought I h-hated James."

As shocked as Draco was by Wormtail's words, he was far more shocked by the disgust and remorse dripping from each word. He couldn't say anything, but inclined his head indicating for Wormtail to continue.

"I... I was scared. Death Eaters had been c-coming to me for weeks, bringing threats and offers from the D-Dark Lord. Each threat became more deadly. F-finally, I blamed James for all my misery. H-he was the reason the Dark Lord was after me. He was the one who had rejected me. And s-so... I gave him to the Dark Lord."

It almost looked like Wormtail, right-hand slave-boy to Lord Voldemort, was going to cry. Draco didn't know if he felt sympathy or nausea at the sight.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I... there's more." Wormtail wrung his hands so tightly, Draco was sure his normal hand would be crushed by his odd silver one. "I encountered Potter here t-two and a half years ago. And his godfather."

"Sirius Black," Draco said softly.

"So he told you."

Draco nodded.

"Sirius and Remus were my other friends. Were. They confronted me. Almost killed me. S-Sirius should have. He w-was right."

"Right about what?" Draco asked. His curiosity was getting the better of his vigilance, and he knew it.

Wormtail sighed. "He said I should have d-died, rather than betray James. And I should have. Oh, I should have. I should have died for him."

Draco looked on at Wormtail and swallowed. His throat was suddenly feeling dry and sticky. "What's this all got to do with me? Why are you telling me this?"

"You're a b-better man than me, Draco. You didn't let the Dark Lord intimidate you."

That statement struck Draco with such incredulity that he actually choked out a short laugh. "Why do you think I left, you oaf? I left because I was scared!"

To Draco's amazement, Wormtail actually shook his head. "If you'd only b-been scared, you would have stayed, boy. Mark my words."

"Then...?" Draco frowned in confusion.

"You left for other reasons, too." He inclined his head towards Harry's sleeping form. "You care about him."

Draco's first instinct was denial. "Not when I left!"

"You left with him, boy. Running scared, you w-would have just run. Without him to slow you down. Can you deny it? Can you?"

Draco wanted to say something. He did. He wanted to be right. But he had no argument that might hold water. So he said nothing.

There was no triumph in Wormtail's expression; just a sad acknowledgement. "I lost James, and my other f-friends, because of my own cowardice."

"I'm not a coward!" Draco hissed. "And I'm not going to lose Harry!"

This time, a hint of a smile played across Wormtail's face. "I never said you were, boy."

"Then why all this? Why the story? What's this all about?"

Wormtail shrugged. "I... guess I j-just wanted to make sure you don't let something g-good slip through your fingers like I did."

Draco's stomach jumped. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Wormtail laughed. Not a pleasant sound, but he was definitely amused. "Oh yes, you do, boy. Yes, you do."

Suddenly, the man lurched to his feet. In an instant, Draco's wand was again trained on the Death Eater's heart.

Wormtail laughed again. "Still so d-defensive, Malfoy? Well, I suppose it's a good trait." He sighed, and looked down at Harry, then back at Draco. "You know how you feel about him. You don't need me to point it out. But, I've g-got one question for you, and w-when you answer yourself this, you'll know what to do."

"What's that?" Draco asked in a whisper.

"Would you die for him?"

Before Draco could react, he was watching the back end of a scruffy rat disappear into the shadows of the night.

Feeling extremely disturbed, Draco pulled himself to his feet. His hand was still clenched tightly around his wand, and he was shaking. Shaking, sweating, breathing rapidly. He'd let a Death Eater into his encampment. He'd sat and talked with that Death Eater. And he'd let him go. Again.

And even more stunning, Harry had slept through the whole thing. Draco briefly wondered at how exhausted Harry must have really been - a thought that was accompanied by a familiar upwelling of protectiveness. Which clearly brought back Wormtail's words. You care for him. Make sure you don't let something good slip through your fingers. And, most disturbing, Would you die for him?

Draco finally let himself consider that question. He'd sworn to himself, Whatever it takes. Did he mean that? Did he really mean that?

After pacing around the fire for a minute, Draco stopped in front of the tent, then carefully knelt down by Harry's head. Harry was lying on his stomach, with his head cradled in his folded arms. In the darkness, Draco could barely make out the rise and fall of his back as he breathed. He looked so peaceful, so content. For the moment, he was completely oblivious to the danger, and to the clock running out.

Draco reached to slip his wand into his pocket, and came out with his counting stick. There were thirteen notches now. Feeling a strong sense of finality, Draco removed his dagger from his belt and dug the knife into the wood. Then he reversed the blade to make the back-cut, but as he pressed the knife down, it slipped and nicked his thumb.

It didn't hurt, but Draco pulled his hand back with a hiss of surprise, then held up his thumb to survey the damage.

The cut wasn't deep. A single drop of blood was trailing down the side of the digit. In the unnatural firelight, it looked black. An odd thought crossed his mind.

Maybe it's not the blood that causes the magic, but the magic that gives the blood the illusion of supernatural power.

He cocked his head at the thought, not really sure if it made sense. Not that the mysteries of the universe had much bearing on his situation. He had more immediate things with which to concern himself. He looked past his bleeding thumb to Harry. Yes, he had more immediate things to worry about. More important things.

Would you die for him?

With a sigh, Draco pulled out his wand and quickly healed the cut. He tucked his wand back into his pocket alongside the counting stick, and sheathed his dagger. Then, after a long moment of deliberation, he reached out and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry mumbled in his sleep and looked up through bleary eyes. "Is it morning?"

Draco couldn't help but smile. "No. I'm just coming to sleep."

"Ah, m'k". He shifted beneath the cloak and held up the edge of it. "C'mon then."

Draco hesitated for a moment at the invitation, noting the ease with which Harry accepted his presence. It's the after-effects of the sleeping charm, Draco told himself, but then logic reminded him that the charm should have worn off the instant Harry fell asleep. Maybe he really is just that exhausted. And so am I.

Too tired to think about it any longer, Draco finally crawled beneath the cloak. Feeling the warmth of Harry's body next to his own, Draco quickly fell asleep.

*********

That night, Draco dreamed. At first, he feared he'd been pulled into another vision, almost as if he couldn't remember what an actual dream felt like, but there was no penetrating darkness in this place, no rumbling voice in his head. For a long time, there was nothing but disjointed images and vague impressions. Forest trails, the foundations of ancient Muggle houses, the graveyard. Rocky hillsides and muddy streams. For a long time, Draco ran through his dream, feeling like he was searching desperately for something, but never quite finding it. He had no idea what he was searching for, but it was as though his very life depended on finding it. He came to a bend in the trail. This is it! Right around this corner! But as he turned the corner the dream shifted.

He was no longer in the forest, but in a well-furnished room that he recognized all too well, and an even more familiar face. He saw his mother was sitting in her favourite armchair in the parlour back home. She looked like she hadn't slept for days, and her eyes were red. In her hands, she twisted a handkerchief. She wasn't looking at him, but she was talking, and Draco thought she might have been talking to him.

Why did you go? Her voice was strained and tight. Oh, my Draco, I told you not to go! I would have been proud enough! Lucius, this is your fault! You let him start this damned mission of his, and now look! Just look! Oh, Draco! She collapsed into sobs, and Draco had to look away.

His mother was seldom emotional. Draco had only seen her lose control like this twice, one of those times being the day he'd first begged his father to let him catch Harry - she'd nearly refused to speak to him since then - and this was just too much. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him in his dreams. He turned in place to survey the room.

On the other side of the room, his father was standing, leaning against the mantle. The proud, strong features, still traced with faint lines of stress and exhaustion from his brief stay in Azkaban. He was frowning, scowling. Draco begged me to let him do it, and the Dark Lord made the final decision! Not I! He was too weak to follow through, and it is his fault that he -

He's your SON! Narcissa screamed back.

He's no son of mine!

You can't mean that!

Draco shrank back against the wall, trying to stay hidden, but at the same time, he desperately wanted his parents to see him. Maybe they'd welcome him home. Of course they'd welcome him home! They loved him! But just as Draco stepped forward, hoping to catch their attention, the dream shifted again.

He was in a room in Hogwarts he'd only entered once: Dumbledore's office. The old wizard was leaning heavily on his desk, looking older than ever. His desk was strewn with copies of the Daily Prophet, over which had been laid a thick, ancient tome. Dumbledore was staring towards the pages of the book, but he didn't seem to see them; his eyes were unfocused and distant. Draco's heart gave a little leap. If Dumbledore could hear him, or maybe if he could get the old man's attention, he could get help. Draco was so busy wondering how he could get Dumbledore's attention that it took him a moment to realize that he was in Hogwarts.

Without any further thought to Dumbledore, he turned and ran out of the office, down corridor after corridor, trying to find his dormitory. He was so tired. Why couldn't he sleep in his own bed? He could finally rest! He'd been running for so long.

But he couldn't sleep right now! He had to find Snape! Snape would have found the antidote to the Soul's Eclipse potion! Feeling more determined, Draco ran faster. As he turned the corner towards the dungeons, he was suddenly no longer in Hogwarts, but in the halls of Voldemort's fortress. In his path stood the Dark Lord himself, red eyes glittering. He laughed cruelly at Draco, and spoke in a mocking voice, Would you die for him, fool?

Draco felt rather than heard himself scream, turned, and ran the other way. Down the stairs to Voldemort's dungeons, through the cold, wet passages Biddy had found. The cave was up ahead. The cave exited to the valley below, and freedom. Freedom! He could escape! He was almost there... and suddenly, he was out in the middle nowhere, at the edge of a clearing in the woods.

It was night time, and the moon was full overhead. Standing before him was Harry, looking distant and fearful, and dreadfully pale in the bright moonlight. Then, Harry gasped and fell to his knees. Draco dropped next to him, holding him. A quick glance up showed a bite had been taken from one side of the moon. In front of him, Harry seemed to be fading. At first, it just seemed that he was becoming more pale, but then, it seemed as though he was becoming translucent, fading from reality. Draco tried to yell to him, but Harry didn't seem to hear. The sky was becoming darker as the moon shrank, and Harry was disappearing with it. Desperate, Draco tried to hold him tighter, but his hands suddenly passed clear through Harry, as though he were little more than a ghost. In a total panic, Draco lunged at Harry, but he fell through empty air.

Draco came awake with a shock, breathing hard, and sat up in a rush as though he'd been slapped. The forest was dim with the cool grey tones of early dawn. Through the tree canopy above, Draco could see that yesterday's clouds were beginning to break apart, and it promised to be a fair day. He reached down and felt the ground beneath him, reassuring himself that it was solid, and he was really awake, even though he still reeling from the emotional turmoil of his dream. For a moment, he didn't move, catching his breath, and trying to shake off the last dregs of sleep.

Finally, beating away the irrational fear that Harry might have actually disappeared, he glanced down at his companion. Beside him, Harry was still fast asleep, snoring softly.

*********

Night turns to day
And I still have these questions
Bridges will break
Should I go forwards or backwards
Night turns to day
And I still get no answers
Just a whisper

(~Coldplay)

*********