Eclipse

I'm kneeling down with broken prayers
Hearts and bones from days of youth
Restless with an angel's wing
I dig a grave to bury you
No feet to fall, you need no ground
Allowed to glide right through the sun
Release from circles guarded tight
Now we all are Chosen Ones

Secure yourself to Heaven
Hold on tight, the night has come
Fasten up your earthly burdens
You have just begun

(~Indigo Girls)

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Chapter 16

And Straight On 'Till Morning

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Harry awoke slowly from a deep, dreamless sleep. He was so relaxed, so well rested, it was wonderful. He hadn't slept well in months. Or weeks. Or had it been exactly three weeks ago that he'd been taken forcibly from Hogwarts in the middle of the night?

As soon as that thought permeated Harry's sleep-fogged brain, he came awake with a start. He sat up, feeling a surge of panic ripping through him like too much caffeine as realization set in. Today was the last day before the eclipse. One last chance to find the final ingredient. Less than twenty-four hours to live, unless Draco's plan worked.

Draco.

Harry looked down; the spot where he thought Draco had been sleeping was empty. He looked around the tent. "Draco?" No response. Harry quickly patted around for his glasses and jammed them on his face. Without a second glance, he bolted through the tent flap. "Draco, where are - Ouch!"

"Well, you found me the quick way," Draco said, rubbing his forehead as he stepped back. "But next time, could we try for a less painful approach?"

Harry stumbled the rest of the way out of the tent, rubbing his own forehead in imitation of Draco. "Sorry," he muttered. "Woke up and you weren't there."

Draco dropped his hand from his face and folded his arms across his chest. He almost looked amused. "I went to the same place I go every morning. To piss. Did you miss me already?"

Harry opened his mouth to make a short reply, but rethought his response quickly. He looked away. "I woke up and realized what day it was. Kinda panicked and wanted someone there."

"Aaaah," Draco said slowly. "I understand. I'm not going anywhere, Harry."

"I know," Harry replied, still not looking at Draco. He turned his attention to the food sack lying on the ground by the tent. "What's new for breakfast?"

"Now look who's being funny," Draco drawled. "But actually, I was digging around in there this morning, just to see what I could find, and I found about two dozen hard-boiled eggs that were hidden beneath that pile of corned beef sandwiches. No wonder we never found them, right?"

Harry stole a quick glance up at Draco; he was smiling. Harry gave a half-hearted grin in return. "Now all we need is some hot buttered toast and tea, right?"

"Buttered toast!" Draco groaned as he sat down. "I can't wait to have some real food again! You're making me hungry! And I already ate!"

Harry snickered, flopped down across from Draco, and started digging into the pack. There was indeed a large pile of eggs nestled where there used to be corned beef sandwiches. "You could always eat something else. Don't you keep saying that we need to keep our strength up?"

Draco looked like he was about to glower, but instead, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "All I want right now is a really strong cup of coffee. Espresso might be nice. I'm so tired."

Harry looked up from the egg he was shelling. "Didn't you use the sleep-aid charm on yourself?"

"It's not that. I just had a really nasty dream. Woke me up early."

"It wasn't another vision from Voldemort, was it?" Harry asked in a rush. "If it was -"

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "I would have told you about something like that immediately. No, it was just a weird, messed-up dream."

Harry waited, half-expecting Draco to launch into a description of the dream, but it appeared that Draco had no such inclination. Shaking his head in resignation, he returned his attention to his egg.

"Harry... do you remember anything after I put the Sleep Aid Charm on you last night?"

Harry frowned at his egg. "Not really. The instant you cast it, I just felt so relaxed. Seeing as we got almost no sleep the night before, it was so easy to just drift off. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. You were mumbling, but I guess you were just talking in your sleep."

"Oh," Harry said, curious now. "Yeah, I know I talk in my sleep. But usually only when I dream, and I don't remember dreaming last night. What was I saying?"

Draco shook his head before answering. "Nothing important. Just random stuff. I don't really remember what you said anymore."

"Hmm," Harry murmured, knowing there was more to the story. He honestly couldn't remember a damn thing since the moment Draco had cast the charm. While it had been wonderful to be able to drift off to sleep without a care in the world, he hated the idea of not being fully alert and aware of his actions and surroundings. Although he'd never been drunk, he wondered if the charm had some similar side-effects. Under the influence of something that relaxed him so much, he might have said anything. He wasn't so sure he liked that. "Draco, what exactly is that sleep charm supposed to do?"

"I told you before I cast it. It relaxes you, and takes away your worries, just long enough for you to fall asleep. I'd bet some high-strung business wizard's wife invented it."

Harry finished shelling his egg, and took a bite. "How often have you used it on yourself?" he asked around a mouthful.

Draco shrugged. "Probably more than I should have. A lot on nights before Quidditch matches, and then quite often last year. Over this past summer... almost every night."

Harry didn't respond, and quickly stuffed the rest of the egg in his mouth.

Draco shot him a stern look of disapproval. "If you eat like that, you'll choke to death. The last thing we need is -" Suddenly, his eyes widened as he realized what he said. "I'm sorry, Harry. Didn't mean it like that."

Harry was glad he'd already swallowed his egg, or he might have actually choked on it. His nerves were already on edge, causing his stomach to protest even his small breakfast, but the mere mention of death was enough for him to completely lose his appetite. "Have you already eaten?"

"I told you, I did."

"Okay then," Harry said. He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Let's pack up the tent and start moving. I want to find that damned plant before noon, if possible."

"Sounds like a fair plan," Draco said as he hauled himself to his feet, using his cane for leverage. "We can do that. It should be easy to find."

Not trusting his voice, Harry only grunted in reply.

Barely ten minutes later, the site appeared as if nobody had ever been there, and Harry was already looking up at the branches of every tree they passed as they began walking away. If he was lucky, they'd find it before noon. Then, they could find a suitable place to begin making preparations, and have the potion prepared well in advance. But even if they had everything perfectly ready, Harry knew that nothing would reassure him until he saw the sunrise the following morning.

Even as he walked, he could feel his body slowly begin shaking like a wind-tossed husk before an approaching hurricane. His stomach was doing odd flips, and he wanted to run, and keep running until he collapsed of exhaustion and was too tired to think. He could feel time slipping away from him, and the heavy hand of fate was creeping up from behind him, ready to grab him when the time ran out. Maybe if he ran far enough, fast enough, he could outrun the sunset, the moonrise, the eclipse, and time itself.

"What time tonight is the eclipse actually supposed to start?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual, like his life wasn't riding on it.

"I think it's in the wee hours of the morning," came the equally neutral reply. "Starts around 2:00 AM, I think."

"Okay." Harry deliberated for a minute, feeling jitters beginning to creep up his spine. "How long does it take to brew this potion of yours?"

"I told you. About two and a half hours."

"Oh. Okay." His words sounded unnatural to his own ears, flat and lifeless, except for the slight vibration that he couldn't keep out of his voice. It matched the shaking that was working its way down his legs and into his gut.

"Harry, look at me for a moment."

Reluctantly, Harry obeyed. He tried to keep his expression calm and collected, but he could tell by the look on Draco's face that he'd failed miserably.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked.

Harry had to clench his teeth together to keep himself under control. His nerves were beginning to get the better of him, and he could feel his heart beating an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest. He was starting to lose it, he knew, but that would only make things worse. He held his breath for a moment, gathering himself as best he could before he felt he could answer. Still, his voice shook as he spoke. "I think... it's finally hit me. What's going to happen tonight. I knew it would."

Draco considered this for a second, then fixed Harry with a kind but stern stare. "What's going to happen is that we're going to brew a potion, I'm going to take that potion, we're going to sit up late around a campfire telling stories, and in the morning, we'll be able to laugh about how we bested the Dark Lord."

"Easy for you to say," Harry scoffed. Then he saw the stung look on Draco's face. That only made him feel worse, adding guilt to nerves. "That's not how I meant it! Ugh! I just meant that in the morning, no matter what, you'll still be here. I might... I might -"

"Harry," Draco said softly, undercutting Harry's tirade, "if there was any way I could trade places with you, I would."

As soon as those words registered, an image flashed across Harry's mind. He saw Draco, slowly fading out of consciousness as the night sky grew dark. He saw Draco's body, lying still on the ground as the sun rose. And he saw himself, carrying Draco's limp body up the stairs of Hogwarts. The thought almost made him choke. "You can't mean that," Harry said, feeling suddenly angry.

Draco gave a short nod. "I do." He sighed and looked away. "If I fail tonight, I don't know how I'd live with myself. I don't want to be the one left behind. I can't imagine coming back without you, so if I could, I'd rather be the one who doesn't come back."

That was not what Harry wanted to hear. If anything, the mental image he was trying to banish only became clearer. "Don't talk like that," Harry said flatly. "Don't." As much as he didn't want to think about his own possible death, he found that contemplating Draco's death disturbed him far more deeply. It would just be more guilt on his conscience; another life ruined because of him. And it would be Draco's life.

Draco merely shrugged. Harry shook his head in disbelief. At least one of them had to get home alive, and for Draco to say that... it left Harry feeling very uncomfortable.

"Listen, we've already got enough to worry about. I've already got enough to worry about without you acting like a defeatist before we've even start! Haven't you been the one telling me to think positively? And now you're talking about yourself dying, as if that would make me feel better! In case you're wondering, it's not! So even if you want to make yourself miserable, because in some twisted way, it would make you feel better, leave me out of it!"

When Draco didn't react, Harry dropped his forehead into his hand for a moment in resignation, then he cast a sideways glance at Draco. Maybe a different approach. "You're not going to have to 'trade places with me', because this is going to work. And even if it doesn't, I know you're doing everything you can. You can't blame yourself."

"Now that's funny," Draco snapped. His face was twisted with sheer incredulity. "How can I not blame myself? Harry, we're here because of me. This is all my fault."

Harry felt something snap in him, and he stopped short. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, and made a fist as if he wanted to hit the nearest possible inanimate object. "That's it," he bit out, "Draco, I don't blame you anymore, so you have no excuse to blame yourself! You already apologized, two weeks ago, and I accepted it! As far as I'm concerned, the person who got us into this mess isn't here anymore, but the person who allowed us to escape is."

He opened his eyes to see Draco's eyes peering back into his sadly, and perhaps a bit stunned. "I'm the same person, Harry...."

Like hitting a brick wall, Harry suddenly felt his head of steam go flat. His next retort died on his tongue, and he let himself actually meet Draco's eyes. "Let's drop this. It isn't getting us anywhere. Can we please just live in the present? If... if this doesn't work... I don't have much time left. I'd rather not spend it fighting."

Draco didn't look happy with this, but finally, he said, "We can do that."

It was a small relief, but it helped. Harry nodded, then looked out over Draco's shoulder. "Think we ought to keep looking then?" he asked anxiously.

Draco didn't give an actual reply, but he did turn and begin walking again, scanning the trees for any sign of the silver berries and peculiar foliage of mistletoe. Harry tried to take a deep, calming breath, but only managed a short huff. He gave up on trying to calm down and just began walking after Draco.

In stark contrast to the way Harry felt, the day itself was turning out to be quite beautiful. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and the last traces of clouds from the day before were sailing lazily across the blue expanse overhead. He could hear birds chirping merrily, oblivious to the dark nature of the day. Occasionally, a tree branch would bounce and sway with the weight of a squirrel doing acrobatics. The forest was alive, Harry noticed, but the silence between himself and Draco was almost painful. However, there was nothing to say. They already both knew what was at stake.

The forest seemed to grow thicker as the morning went on. Oaks, pines, and birches reached ever higher, their leaves casting a green-tinted shade to the earth below. However, when Harry looked up, he could see some of the leaves dying with the onset of fall. The idea didn't make him feel any better.

"What's the date today?" Harry asked suddenly.

Beside him, Draco startled at the sudden noise. "It's... the twenty-sixth of September."

"We missed the equinox, didn't we?"

Draco cocked his head. "We didn't miss it. We were out here."

Not that he wanted to talk more, but just having something to say to break the silence felt good. Plus, this was a more neutral topic. "What were we doing the day of the equinox?"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. He held up his hands and deliberately counted on his fingers, occasionally nodding to himself or shaking his head. "Well, it's rather easy to lose track out here, but I think that was the day you... er... fell into that hole."

"Ah," Harry said quietly. The day came back to him in a rush. "That's also the day you went in the river, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot, actually."

Harry frowned. "How could you forget that? It was... well... it was a big thing for you, right?"

"Harry, after watching the earth almost eat you alive, and... how do I say this?" Draco almost sounded sad. "Harry, if you had seen yourself when I pulled you out of that hole, trust me, anything else from that day would easily be forgotten."

That comment struck Harry oddly. "I'm sure I've been injured worse. Especially with all the shit I've been through."

Draco blinked once and looked away for a moment. "I never saw you quite so up-close when it happened, you know. And the other times, Madam Pomfrey probably patched you up in a heartbeat."

"I suppose," Harry said. Although he wasn't sure why, he wasn't quite satisfied with Draco's answer. He shook it off and gave the surrounding trees another concentrated scan. "What does mistletoe do in the potion, anyway? Don't think I've ever seen it used in a potion before."

"Oh, mistletoe was used by ancient potions masters as a catalyst, to bring out the magical properties in the other ingredients, and to increase the potency of the potion overall," Draco said quickly.

He sounded much more comfortable being able to just rattle off information, and Harry was inclined to let him.

"Why don't we use it much nowadays?" Harry asked, authentically curious.

"Well that's easy. Mistletoe was more of a crude method, and over time, potions experts have refined other techniques, increased the potency of the actual ingredients, and simply found better ingredients and catalysts. Now, I suppose we mostly just use mistletoe as a Christmas decoration, because it looks rather pretty. I'm not quite sure where the kissing tradition came from."

Harry was nodding casually as he listened, but stopped suddenly. "Wait, I thought you didn't know how Muggles used mistletoe!"

It was Draco's turn to look stunned. "Muggles use the stuff for the same purpose as wizards? I thought you were talking about something totally different... you never said what they used it for! I just assumed... it would be something different from... well... from us. How the hell did they learn about that?"

Draco looked positively violated, and Harry had to laugh at him. "Maybe the ties between Muggles and wizards are closer than you think."

Draco quickly scowled at him. "I highly doubt that. But for the sake of argument... whatever. Why didn't you tell me what Muggles use mistletoe for when I asked?"

Suddenly, Harry felt his cheeks go hot. "Er... because you were standing beneath it... and I didn't want to imply... er... oh shit."

Draco's face had gone slightly pink to match, but he also looked highly amused. "Oh my, Harry. Didn't want to have to kiss and tell?"

"I don't think I would be required to... er... given the circumstances... oh hell, it's not Christmas!" By now, Harry was feeling extremely flustered, and silently cursed the ground he was standing on for not having a convenient hole to swallow him up for a moment. "Besides, you're a boy!"

To Harry's amazement, Draco actually preened. "Well, I'm ever so pleased that you noticed. And my eyes are grey, which you also seemed to have noticed."

Harry was now flustered and confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Draco's expression softened, and he looked at Harry with a combination of kindness and helplessness. "Our dear, innocent Harry," he said breathily, more to himself than to Harry.

"Huh?"

"I'll explain it to you later."

In an instant, the light-heartedness that Harry had been feeling disappeared, replaced by the harsh awareness of how fast his time was running out. It was like a kick in the stomach, and Draco noticed the change immediately.

"Harry, that's not - oh crap. Harry... I... I can explain it now. If you want me to."

The look in Draco's eyes was something like pity, and it was the last thing Harry wanted. "No, Draco," he said heavily. "I don't. I want to find the mistletoe, chop it up, and toss it in the potion. I want to get home with a pulse. And there are a lot of things I want to do before I die, so let's get back to trying to delay my premature demise, okay?"

"Oh," Draco said. To Harry's surprise, he looked distinctly dejected.

Harry grimaced. "You can tell me... whatever you want to tell me... after we find the mistletoe, okay?"

"Okay," Draco said in a low tone. "But there's one thing you have to know."

"What's that?"

"You don't 'chop up' the mistletoe for this potion. You remove the berries, and pulverize them separately from the leaves using a mortar and pestle."

At that, Harry snorted. "Okay, okay. Show-off."

Draco gave a half grin. "And look who's calling the cauldron black."

Harry could only roll his eyes. "Okay! You win!"

Draco sniffed. "I ought to hear that phrase more often. 'Draco, you win. Draco, you're right. Draco, your brilliance and sheer magnificence outshine the sun itself.'"

Harry shook his head to himself, unable to completely stop himself from grinning. Only Draco would say something like that. In fact, it was one of his quirks that Harry had grown to appreciate... in a strange, exasperating sort of way.

He was mentally settling back into his search when Draco cleared his throat conspicuously. Harry spared him a sideways glance. "Yes?"

"You said... er... damn, I don't want this to come out the wrong way."

"Well, it already has, so you might as well say it straight out."

"Thanks, Potter," he drawled sarcastically, but before Harry could rattle off a retort, Draco sighed and dropped his head. "You said... that there were a lot of things you wanted to do... well... you know. I kinda wanted to know... what are some things you've always wanted to do, but have never done?"

That definitely took Harry off-guard. He really hadn't thought about it. Considering that the plan might not work, he supposed it might be a little bit late to start worrying about it, but now that Draco had mentioned it, he couldn't get the idea out of his head. All the things he'd ever wanted to do, and he might never have the chance. It wasn't fair! Why did everything have to be so unfair?!

Harry didn't notice that he had clenched his fists until he felt Draco's hand touch his softly.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Draco said hesitantly. "I just wanted... oh hell. I'm sorry I asked."

With some effort, Harry unclenched his fists. "Well," he said slowly, "I'd always wanted to go camping...."

For a moment, Draco stared at him blankly. Then, exasperation slowly overtook his features. "What am I going to do with you?" he said, shaking his head.

"Well," Harry said, suddenly feeling devious, "you could show me what to do with the mistletoe when we find it."

Draco's jaw fell slack, and he had the most peculiar expression. Harry wondered if his brain was somehow short-circuiting at the possible double meaning. He waved a hand in front of Draco's glazed eyes. "Draco? Hey, you in there? Ground control to Draco. Come in, Draco..."

Slowly, Draco's eyes came into focus, somewhere off over Harry's shoulder. "Mistletoe..."

Harry snickered. "Yes, Draco, you can show me what to -"

"No, Harry!" Draco cried, suddenly pointing over Harry's shoulder, practically bouncing in excitement on his one good leg. "The mistletoe! Look!"

Harry spun around. Ahead of them was an enormous beech tree, standing at the edge of a broad clearing. At first, Harry didn't see the mistletoe, but he followed the line of Draco's finger... and there it was. Nestled on a branch at least twenty feet off the ground, was the unmistakable foliage and berries of mistletoe. In an instant, everything else was forgotten. "You found it!" Harry exclaimed. "Merlin, thank goodness! Draco, I could kiss you right now!" He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wand.

He was aiming it at the largest clump of mistletoe, and was about to mutter a quick Accio! when Draco's hand came down on his in a rush.

"Don't use magic!"

"Wha-what?" Harry stammered, taken aback by the sudden command. "Why not?"

Draco was shaking his head and muttering to himself. Harry could make out the words "idiot", "ruin everything", and "didn't listen to Snape." Before Harry could become too irritated, Draco looked him squarely in the eye and said, "Did it ever occur to you why we were never allowed to use wands in the preparation of any potions ingredient, with only a few specific exceptions?"

"Er... actually... well... no."

To Harry's gratitude, Draco didn't look too smug over this. "The use of magic, any magic, on an object leaves a trace effect. For normal stuff, it wouldn't matter... but for potions... even the slightest shift in the magical properties can completely alter the outcome of a potion. That's why everything in that class was 'chop, peel, slice, and dice' by hand."

"So, even a simple summoning charm..." Harry said slowly.

"Exactly. It might not ruin it... but are you willing to stake your life on it?"

Harry flinched. "Well, seeing as you put it that way... how the hell am I supposed to get it?" He knew the answer before it even came.

"What? Don't tell me you've never climbed a tree before!"

"I know that... yes, I've climbed trees, wise-arse," Harry grumbled as he turned and stalked to the base of the tree trunk. "And of course, you can't, so I suppose I've got to do it."

"I'll catch you if you fall," Draco said lightly.

Harry shot a glare at him. "Thanks, Draco."

"Anytime."

Harry shook his head and turned back to the problem at hand. He'd meant to simply begin climbing when he realized there were no close footholds. In fact, the tree was a lot larger than it had appeared from a distance, and the lowest branch was well over the top of his head. It was also too thick to grip easily, even if he jumped and tried to swing up. "Er..." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Do you see any good handholds or footholds from there?"

"Actually... hmm. No, not really."

Harry took a step back and surveyed the problem. Like any beech tree, it had smooth bark, so getting a grip on the trunk itself was out of the question. Even if he got a hold of the branch overhead, he'd never be able to swing up to it. And up overhead, the mistletoe was perched, taunting him mercilessly.

Harry forced himself to relax his clenched jaw. This was getting him nowhere. He turned to walk back to Draco, only to find that Draco had already joined him beneath the tree.

"You know," Draco said cautiously, looking up at the target branch, "I may not be able to use magic on the mistletoe, but I can use it on you."

"Oh?"

"Well... I could levitate you up to the branch."

Harry blinked once. Twice. Looked up at the branch overhead, then back at Draco. "That's... er... a long ways up. Do you think you can really do it?"

"I can," Draco said, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "My levitation charms aren't the best, but they've improved."

"Oh, that inspires real confidence in me."

Draco actually looked hurt by that. He frowned sullenly. "Well, if you want to levitate me up, I could get it."

Harry looked at the dejected expression on Draco's face. "Give me your dagger," he said.

Draco balked at the sudden command. "What?"

"Well, if I'm going to cut the plant loose when I get up there, I'll need a knife, right?"

Draco opened his mouth, but just as quickly, he shut his mouth again and gave a sheepish sort of grin. "Oh. Yeah. Right." In one smooth movement, he handed the dagger to Harry, handle first.

Harry accepted the blade, but didn't back away. For a long moment, he stood there, looking at Draco, then he glanced up at the mistletoe overhead. When he looked back down, Draco was regarding him strangely. Harry barely managed to stop himself from blushing again. "We'd better get on with it."

"We should," Draco said neutrally, and then he stepped back.

Harry had flown by means of magic many times. Whether by broomstick, or illegal flying Ford Anglia, the air had been his domain. This, however, was totally different. He wasn't relying on something physically present to carry him aloft from beneath him. Instead, he felt an odd lightness wash over his body, and with a lurch, his feet left the ground.

The earth retreated from his feet. Draco was looking up at him, wand held steady, jaw set with the concentration of a man walking a tightrope. Without a net. Harry tried not to shudder at the thought, and quickly looked up. The branch was approaching him rapidly. Just a couple more feet...

Harry reached out and grasped the branch. Through his body, he felt the levitation charm falter, but it held steady. Trying to work within the charm, Harry carefully maneuvered himself onto the branch and straddled it. Once he had his balance, he swallowed, and finally let out the breath he'd been holding. "Okay, Draco. I'm all set."

An instant later, he felt the charm disappear, and he turned his attention to the peculiar parasitic plant on the branch in front of him. "Draco, how much of this stuff do we need?"

"Well," came the response from below, "the potion calls for seven large leaves, and seven berries, but I'd say it's always good to have extra. It looks like there's a lot of it up there, so we might as well get at least twice as much, you know, in case something happens."

"Okay," Harry said, not taking his eyes from the branch in front of him. He reached into the tuft of plant matter, found a stem, and quickly drew it across the blade. He repeated the action two more times, which gave him a large pile of loose foliage. "Okay, I'm going to drop it down." He glanced over the edge of the branch, where he could see Draco looking up at him intently from below. "You ready to catch it?"

Draco nodded, then shook his head. He reached into the travel sack, pulled out the cloak, quickly enlarged it, and spread it on the ground below Harry. "Now, drop it. That way, we won't loose any of the berries."

"Good idea." Gently, so as not to damage the plant any more than necessary, Harry untangled his stems from the rest of the mistletoe, held it out over Draco's cloak, and dropped it. It was pushed a bit by the breeze as it fell, but it landed softly amongst the blue folds of cloth. Harry smiled, and looked from the mistletoe to Draco's face.

Draco was smiling just as broadly. "Ready to come down, you funny looking squirrel, you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking of taking permanent residence in this tree. You know, begin gathering nuts for the winter. YES, I'm ready to come down!"

Draco laughed, but quickly set his face in a look of strict concentration. Seconds later, Harry felt the levitation charm permeate his body again. He released his grip on the branch, and the branch fell away beneath him. Draco lifted him up, to the side, and then slowly, he began to descend. It seemed to take forever for his feet to touch the earth, but it was such a relief to feel solid ground beneath him again as he set down in front of Draco. Again, he felt the charm rapidly fade away.

The stern set of Draco's jaw relaxed, and he breathed a visible sigh of relief.

Harry smiled at him. "And who says your levitation charms aren't the best?"

"Well, the ministry man who graded my Charms OWL, for one," Draco grumbled, "but I had a reason for that."

"Oh?"

Draco actually looked rather chagrined. "I believe I told you... just not in so many words. I was too busy paying attention to you. I... er... had a bad habit of doing that."

"Really, now?" Harry asked, taking a step closer.

Draco was rapidly going red in the face. "Come on, Harry... I haven't been able to ignore you since the first day of school, five years ago."

"Why's that?"

"Because," Draco said deliberately, "you were an annoying prat who made my life miserable at every turn. Everywhere I looked, there you were, doing some new amazing thing to charm the professors, impress the other students, and make me look like a fool. I couldn't avoid you even if I tried. And then, you walked into the middle of my Charms OWL, where I had actually been performing the best levitation charm I ever had - I'd had that wineglass dancing only seconds before you came in - and I turned to smirk at you, and bam! There goes my Charms OWL."

Although Draco's tone was serious, Harry had come to know him well enough to tell by the look in his eyes that he was being sarcastic. Quickly adopting the same frame of mind, Harry cocked his head and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Don't you mean 'crash! There goes my Charms OWL'?"

Draco scowled.

Harry laughed. "Well, I haven't really been able to avoid you either, you know. You challenged me to duels and never showed up -"

"Only one duel," Draco mumbled.

"- you became the Slytherin Seeker, and sometimes, I swear you did it just so you could best me -"

"Yeah, worked like a charm, that did." Draco seemed even less impressed.

"- and best of all, you went to all the trouble of arranging this lovely camping trip for the both of us."

For a moment, it seemed that Draco wasn't sure whether or not Harry was serious. He must have decided quickly, because his grin suddenly matched Harry's. He sent a deliberate glance up at the tree branch where Harry had been perched just a minute before. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"

Harry's gaze followed Draco's. The branch didn't seem any closer than it had when he'd first looked up, even though he'd already been up there. If Draco's charm had failed... well... he really didn't care to think about that. The point was that the charm had worked. "Yeah," Harry said. He looked back down and met Draco's eyes. "Yeah, we do. It's kinda funny, but we couldn't have done it without each other. Actually, I don't think either of us could have made it this far alone."

Draco's mouth suddenly fell open, as if he'd just realized something. "Merlin, that's what -" His mouth snapped shut again.

"That's what... what?"

Draco shook his head. "Just something I was thinking about last night."

"Oh?" Harry folded his arms across his stomach. "Care to enlighten me?"

"I... well... I just noticed how much we rely on each other. You've done things I can't do, I've done things you can't do. And we've each saved each other's lives. It's a weird sort of thing." Draco hesitated for a moment. "I'm... not used to relying on someone like that... but we really do make a good team."

Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. "I've got to admit, I'm surprised, but yeah, we really do." He took a small step closer to Draco. "And you know what?"

"What?" Draco's reply was barely above a whisper.

"No matter how tonight turns out... these last two weeks have been... something really special." Harry's smile wavered, and he started to feel a bit depressed. It felt like he was saying things now, just in case he didn't have a chance later. He was also feeling just a bit warm under his woolen jumper, and wished that he'd taken it off earlier. Still, he had to say this, and now seemed like the right time. "I want you to know... I'm glad I finally got to know Draco. Not just 'Malfoy'. And I'm grateful for that."

Draco must have sensed the note of finality, because he frowned, despite his own words of reply. "I'm glad I got to know you, too, Harry. And we'll have plenty more time to get to know each other better, of course."

This time Harry's smile faded. "We will," he said, just as a new fear hit him.

In that moment, he realized that he really did want to get to know Draco better. The sum of the past two weeks swirled through his mind, and he realized that in that time, he'd come to know Draco in a way he'd never known anyone else. Sure, he'd gone through life-threatening situations with Ron and Hermione, but this was different. Very different. Their two weeks of isolation, traveling together, sharing secrets, sleeping back-to-back, and even rescuing each other had created a sort of friendship that he knew could never be duplicated; it was something rare and precious, and he needed to keep it. They'd come to the point where they could anticipate each other's words and actions, they knew how to push each other's buttons, and how to read each other's senses of humour. Like adjacent puzzle pieces, something just fit. If he didn't make it through tonight, he'd lose so much - his fight with Voldemort, his chance to protect the wizarding world from the fate of his parents, and his new friendship with Draco. It seemed that now, one of the things driving his will to live was his need not to leave Draco behind. He couldn't.

"We got through everything else together," Harry said, "and we'll get through this."

Draco took a tiny step closer. They were barely a foot apart now, and from there, Harry could almost feel Draco's shaking. Nerves, emotions, fear, worry... whatever it was that was causing such a reaction from Draco, it was starting to affect Harry too.

"We will," Draco said. Even his voice was shaking. "You-Know- er... V-Voldemort isn't so tough. The two of us against him... easy stuff, right?"

The false bravado felt good, and Harry gave a tight laugh. "Easy. Hell, he lost to a baby, right?" he joked, although he didn't actually believe a word he was saying.

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched in something resembling a smile. "Must have been one hell of a baby."

Harry shrugged. "The kid wasn't anything special," he said, feeling a bit more honest this time. "He just... he just was lucky enough to have someone there who... who... cared about him. A lot."

Draco shivered, but he looked into Harry's eyes with blazing sincerity. Although he was just a foot away, he didn't back up. "I care."

There were no qualifiers to follow; just a heartfelt statement, and Harry felt it to the pit of his stomach. "I know you do. That's why this is going to work." He forced a half-smile back onto his face. "But for now... we found the mistletoe..." He pointedly eyed the branch above him. "I think I'd suggested that you show me what to do with mistletoe, once we found it."

In a heartbeat, Draco's face went from pure sincerity to a look of utter incredulity. He blinked twice. "Wha-what?"

Harry grinned. "You know... separate the berries from the leaves; pulverize, don't chop. That sort of stuff. We've got a potion to brew, right?"

For a long moment, Draco stared at him in disbelief, but finally, he smiled. "Right."

*********

They set up on the far side of the beech tree, overlooking a large, sloping field surrounded by thick forest. It seemed to be mid-afternoon, judging by the angle of the sun in the sky, but it still cast a comfortable warmth despite the hour. Under any other circumstances, it would have been an idyllic place for a picnic lunch. The cloak was spread out, there was a small magical fire, and even a pile of the remaining biscuits had been stacked within an easy arm's reach. This, however, was no picnic; it was the staging ground for a battle.

Draco looked over his supplies. All the ingredients were laid out, waiting expectantly. To the side, in the cauldron Harry had transfigured, a small quantity of water was ready to be changed, step by step, into something that could either save Harry's life, or take it from him. The line between the two possible outcomes, Draco thought bleakly, was far thinner than he cared to consider.

Off to the side of the cloak, Harry was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, trying not to appear as though he was staring intently over Draco's shoulder. If it made him feel better to watch, Draco wasn't about to stop him. Harry had enough to worry about. No need to fluster him more over common manners.

Draco snuck a casual glance at his face. He was noticeably peaky, and he'd reverted to silence not long after he'd transfigured the cauldron. Draco shook his head in annoyance and looked back at his ingredients. There was nothing left to do but to begin.

"Did you want to help me, Harry?" Draco asked, trying to sound casual.

There was a significant pause before Harry responded. "If you think I won't mess it up."

"You won't," Draco said confidently. "Snape isn't here to pester you, right?"

Harry made a noncommittal sound, which Draco took as an affirmative.

"Good. I need to start peeling and slicing the Calamus. If you want to, while I do that, you could pull the mugwort leaves off the stems, and then crush exactly twenty-eight leaves as fine as possible."

"Twenty-eight," Harry repeated. "I can do that."

"I know you can." Draco turned his attention to the Calamus root, focusing completely, to the exclusion of all other thoughts. He couldn't afford extra thoughts right now. When you think, you make mistakes, he reminded himself. So, he set himself to removing the outer skin, then slicing it as finely as possible with his dagger. When he was done, his hands were covered with the juice from the plant, but he was sure he had enough for the potion. He looked up at Harry.

"How does it look?"

Harry held up a small cup in which sat a pile of moist, grey-green powder. "Is this fine enough?"

Draco prodded it, then rubbed a bit of it together between his fingers. He nodded in approval. "It's just right. Now, go ahead and put it right into the cauldron. All of it. Okay, good. I'm going to start adding the Calamus to the cauldron, bit by bit, and I need you to keep stirring counterclockwise with the yew stick as I add it until it suddenly turns yellow and gives off a cloud of pea-green smoke. Got it?"

Harry gave a tight-lipped nod in reply. Draco didn't miss how Harry's fingers shook as he picked up the stick; didn't miss how Harry's lip quivered until he clamped it down with his teeth. Neither of them said anything until a puff of sickly green smoke heralded the change.

"Okay," Draco said, feeling relieved. "Next, we have to put it over the fire for about ten minutes. It'll be ready for the next step when it gives off yellow smoke and turns a rich shade of pumpkin orange."

Harry wasted no time in setting the cauldron over the fire. When it was balanced in place, Harry sat back with a heavy thud. "Draco, how do you remember all these details so well?"

"I spent a few days with nothing to do but to read that book and study the potion... and I had assumed I'd be tested regarding this potion by the Dark Lord himself. So I memorized it - every detail - to the point where I could have recited it in my sleep."

"This potion?" Harry asked suddenly.

Draco's heart suddenly lunged up towards his throat. "Well, this potion, of course, with the one variation."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You never did tell me what the variation is."

It wasn't that Draco didn't want to give a proper answer. He just had no answer to give. At least, none that he felt he could give. His mouth was working, opening and closing, in hopes that something sensible would emerge, but there was nothing. Finally, something pushed through. "It would be hard to explain..."

"Well then," Harry said curtly, as he grabbed the parchment with the spell diagram and shoved it into Draco's hands, "perhaps you can show me."

Draco stared down at the diagram. Think fast, Draco. Merlin's beard, think fast! "It's the quince seed," Draco said suddenly. "See, the original potion's deadly aspect is based on the magical properties of nightshade, which works with the hatred of the conquering wizard. The stronger the wizard's hate, the more potent the effect of the nightshade. It serves to leech the life out of the victim. Quince seeds are the magical opposite, and, as stupid as this may sound, in this potion, they'll work based on... well... it's an opposite effect, dependent on the emotional and mental status of the person who consumes the potion. Oh Merlin, Potter, I'm terrible at explaining these sorts of things. This isn't contemporary potion work. Does that explain it well enough?"

Harry was looking at him oddly, and it seemed that he didn't believe a word of it. Finally, after a tense moment, he looked away again. "Yeah, that explains it," he said bitterly.

"Harry, I -" Draco stopped short. What could he say? "I wish I could give a better explanation, but I can't."

"That's okay. I get it."

He sounded so flat, so harsh, that before Draco could stop himself, he blurted out, "Even I don't get it, okay?"

Harry looked back up, his eyes shouting accusations - or maybe Draco just thought they were. "Please tell me that's just a figure of speech, because if you don't 'get it', I really am fucked!"

"I..."

"Draco, I need you to come clean, now." He swallowed, and suddenly looked a bit nervous again. "I need to be able to trust you... because I'm scared."

Draco spared a glance over at the cauldron, which was still bubbling, but with no major changes in colour, and then up at the sun, which already seemed noticeably lower than it had been just before they'd started brewing. Feeling very heavy, he sat back and propped up his ankle on a small rock. He had to face this sometime - the truth about the nature of the potion, and what that would mean for him, but he wasn't quite ready to give it voice yet.

Draco couldn't bring himself to tell Harry that this potion was indeed the exact same brew as the one that must now be sitting in the Dark Lord's goblet, waiting for sunset. The same ingredients, the same process, down to the finest detail, were all identical. The only thing that would differentiate the effect of this potion from the one in Voldemort's possession was not a physical thing, but instead, it was the only truly poisonous element in the whole procedure: the emotional element. Nightshade and quince seeds had nothing to do with it. Where the potion was merely a tool with which Voldemort could reach Harry, it was his pure hatred of his young foe that would kill Harry, and nothing more.

Hatred annihilates. It destroys. It kills.

And according to Draco's theory, his only hope to save Harry was to provide strong enough of an opposite emotional effect to neutralize it.

How could he explain something like that to Harry? Harry, this isn't going to be easy for me to say, but you ought to know that Voldemort is going to try to kill you with a primitive, bitter emotional response to opposition, and your only hope is that I can l-lo - care about you enough to overcome the hatred of a psychotic Dark wizard. Oh yes, it would go over brilliantly.

And if he did manage to say it aloud, would he feel too awkward, too embarrassed, perhaps even to the point of emotionally withdrawing from Harry, which would only sabotage the entire attempt to save his life. But maybe there were options. Maybe there was a way to tell Harry the truth without telling him everything. He looked Harry directly in the eyes.

"Harry, the Old Arts are really weird. I'll admit... yes, there's more to the countercurse than I've told you... but - and this is going to sound even more strange - I'm afraid that if I tell you everything, it might alter the outcome... or even cause our plan not to work."

It wasn't the full truth, but it was still perfectly honest. Harry, however, didn't seem quite convinced.

"How could what you tell me... how could that alter the effectiveness of a potion? What kind of potion is this?"

"It's an Old Arts potion," Draco answered plainly. "The Old Arts... they're more variable than current magical techniques. A lot of stuff is based on the emotional state of the wizards involved, or the intent of the spell-caster. Wizards used to inflict random diseases on people just because they got angry, hence the term, 'a pox on your house!' How do you think the bubonic plague was started? There are safeguards to prevent it now, of course, but like I said, it was all based on the emotional status of the wizard. In some cases, the same potion could have completely different effects, depending on how it's used. It's weird, and it's really touchy. This potion, curse, whatever it is, that we're working with tonight... it has three major factors: the brewed potion, the astronomical component, and an emotional factor. And I'll be as honest with you as I can be... I'm afraid that if I tell you everything about how the potion works, it will actually alter the outcome, because it will affect your emotional state... and mine."

Harry stared at him sceptically, and Draco felt a real jolt of worry shoot through him.

"Please, Harry! I'm begging you to trust me. If you want this to work... I need you to trust me. You told me... not too long ago... that you trusted me. If you've ever trusted me, now is the time. Please."

Seconds stretched out agonizingly. Harry's face and posture were tense and guarded, and he looked like he was being pulled in two directions at once. It almost seemed like he was ready to jump up and fight. Finally, his shoulders slumped a bit, and he let out a sharp exhalation. "I trust you, Draco. I just... I just feel like I'm sitting here, waiting for time to run out, and I don't even understand what's about to happen. I hate not knowing. I hate being kept in the dark. I hate not fighting."

Draco looked at him sadly. "I understand. Nobody used to tell me anything. And you told me that people left you out last year, and what happened because of it. I promise, that's not what I'm trying to do here."

"I know," Harry whispered. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

A puff of bright yellow smoke from the cauldron caught Draco's attention, and he hurried over. The contents of the cauldron were a vibrant shade of orange, and Draco allowed himself a deep breath. "Okay. We need the periwinkle now." He paused and looked up. "That is, if you still want to help me."

Harry looked back at Draco with a plaintive expression, but he went to get the small pile of flowers sitting on the far side of the cloak without a word.

*********

The potion was brewed with minimal discussion. The process became more complex with each step, and required constant monitoring, so it was easy to avoid distracting conversation. The potion itself was more than enough entertainment. In fact, the brewing was even more spectacular than Draco had suspected from the description in the book. When the hawthorn thorns were added, the potion let out a burst of light strongly reminiscent of the Killing Curse, and Harry cried out and threw up his arms to shield himself. The addition of the yew twigs turned it a ghostly shade of glowing white, with tendrils of matching smoke curling out of the cauldron, appearing like surreal tentacles, trying to grab anything that came too close. When the mistletoe berries were finally added, the brew took on an ethereal silver tone, and emitted a faint shimmering mist.

The final ingredient to be added was Harry's blood. Draco hadn't even wanted to ask Harry for it, but he knew it was necessary. Regardless, he couldn't stop himself from stumbling over his words.

"Harry... er... it's time for... I mean, we need to... add your blood to the potion. I'm sorry, but..."

Harry started to offer his left hand forward, then drew it back. "Are you going to have to cut me like Voldemort did?"

Draco's eyes widened with dismay. "No! I couldn't believe he took so much! Well, I could believe it - look at who we're talking about. No, the potion only requires three drops. Just a prick on one finger. I just hate having to do this to you."

"It doesn't bother me, Draco. I was just afraid of... well... being cut that deeply again. It stung a fair bit."

"I understand that. "Draco he held out the knife for Harry to take. "You can do it yourself, if that makes you feel better."

Harry almost took the knife, but then he shook his head. "I want you to do it."

Hesitantly, Draco took Harry's outstretched hand and drew it above the cauldron. He touched the point of the knife to Harry's fingertip, but didn't press down. He looked up at Harry's face one more time, as if asking for permission again.

Harry didn't even blink. "Do it."

Draco winced as the tip of the blade broke the skin, but Harry didn't even flinch. He laid the blade aside and turned Harry's hand palm-down. The blood slowly welled out of the cut, and one by one, three fat drops landed in the shimmering contents of the cauldron. With each one, there was a hissing sound and a puff of red smoke. Draco then pulled Harry's hand away from the cauldron, and peered in. The previously silver liquid was now a vibrant shade of red. As they watched, it faded back to silver.

"Well, it looks like we did it right," Draco said with more relief than pleasure.

He healed Harry's finger with a touch of his wand, and released Harry's hand. Draco wondered if their fingers might have lingered together just a second longer than necessary, but it wasn't as if there was a time limit. And Harry probably needed the reassurance. So Draco brushed the thought aside, and looked back at their creation, slowly swirling in the cauldron. It would have looked beautiful to Draco if he wasn't acutely aware of how deadly it could be in the wrong hands.

"So that's it?" Harry finally said. "That's all that stands between me and Voldemort?"

Draco cringed; he still hated hearing that name. He almost said "yes", but he quickly amended that answer before he gave it. "No. You've got me too, remember?"

Harry looked away from the cauldron towards Draco, and gave a half-smile. "How could I forget?" The smile faded. "I just hope it'll be enough."

"Come on, Harry. We can do this. Weren't we just saying that if you were able to beat him as a baby -"

That only caused Harry to look more forlorn. "I was just trying to make light of everything... you know, kinda like when I went swimming at the worst possible time. It was a nice thought, Draco, but if you knew the whole story, you'd understand why that actually doesn't give me the most confidence in the world."

Draco sat up a little bit straighter. "What 'whole story'? Everyone knows the story. You-Know-Who tried to kill you, but he wasn't powerful enough, or you had some sort of magic that he couldn't fight. The spell rebounded, and it almost killed him."

To Draco's surprise, Harry let out a short laugh. Then another. Chuckling darkly to himself, he flopped backwards onto the cloak and looked up at the late afternoon sky. "Well, 'everyone' doesn't know the full story, do they? You never asked why the spell actually rebounded, or where some oblivious baby got the magic to stop the most powerful Dark wizard of the century. Trust me, I had nothing to do with it."

Draco's stomach jumped. This was certainly not what he'd expected to hear. "You... you didn't? But how then? Who?"

"My mother. She did it."

"She sent the curse back at You-Know-Who?"

Harry shook his head, still looking up at the sky. "He was coming to kill me, not her. He actually told her that she didn't need to die. My mother... a Muggle born... and he was going to let her live, he was so determined just to kill me and be done with it. He told her to step aside. And she wouldn't." He took a long, shuddering breath. "So he killed her. She died protecting me."

Harry bit his lower lip, then rolled onto his side, facing away from Draco. "Dumbledore told me about it. He said that it was her love that saved me... that it left a mark on me. That Voldemort had so much hate in him that he couldn't touch me through my mother's love. It was the one thing he couldn't defeat... and so the curse rebounded on him."

Harry's words were resonating very uncomfortably for Draco, but as his voice became even softer, Draco had to lean closer to hear him, even though part of him wanted to pull away.

"I heard her... screaming," Harry continued. "It's all I remember of the whole thing. My mother screaming, and a flash of green light. I hear it and see it whenever a Dementor gets too close." He choked out a bitter laugh. "All I can remember of my mother is a nightmare brought on by Dementors. It's twisted."

"It is," Draco agreed softly, but his mind was reeling. It was her love that saved me, Harry had said.

If only he knew. If only I could tell him. But Draco said nothing.

They sat like that for a long time, looking out across the field; Draco kneeling behind Harry, and Harry lying on his side, just watching as the breeze played patterns in the tall grass. Time ticking away as the sun sank lower, even though the world was so calm that Draco could almost believe time didn't exist in this place.

Two dragonflies twirled around the tips of the grasses in their last dance of the summer. A distant hissing indicated a snake, and Harry hissed back at it. Telling it to go away, I hope, Draco thought nervously. For a while, two birds fought in the air over the far side of the field. There was a larger bird - a hawk, Draco noted - and some smaller bird. Draco watched, figuring the smaller bird had no chance. It was a fraction of the size of the hawk. But still, it fought viciously.

Fighting losing battles against more powerful enemies, Draco thought grimly. Stupid little ball of feathers is going to be lunch.

Suddenly, the hawk let out a screech and swooped off into the woods.

Draco cocked his head in surprise, and continued to watch in amazement as the small bird flew circles around the area for a few moments, just to make sure the hawk didn't return. Finally, the bird must have decided the coast was clear, and it flew into a tree on the edge of the field, and disappeared from view.

Draco was just considering the symbolism when Harry coughed.

"Tough little guy," Harry said offhandedly. "Fighter."

"That's a good thing," Draco agreed. "I wouldn't have thought that little speck with wings could drive off a hawk."

Harry didn't reply right away, but after a moment, he drew and released a deep breath. "I want to fight."

Caught by surprise, Draco quickly leaned away from Harry. "Fight?" he asked warily.

"Not you." Harry rolled back over with a groan, so he could face Draco again. "Him. I really can't take this anymore. Waiting."

"I'd say that I understand, but that would be wrong of me."

Harry closed his eyes briefly. "No, it's fine. You're waiting too... but I'm just so used to fighting. This is worse."

Draco waited until Harry opened his eyes again. Haunted eyes. Fearful. Draco gave him what he hoped was a reassuring expression. Harry only looked away.

He needed to give Harry something to do. Some way to contribute to his own survival. If he didn't, Harry would only become increasingly upset, and that couldn't be good. Draco glanced over at the parchment lying beside the steaming cauldron, and surveyed the spell diagram again. After a moment's study, he turned back to Harry. "Well, if you want to fight... then fight."

Harry looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I told you that this would almost be like a duel, right? Oh, your tug-of-war analogy. Imagine that for a minute. If you were standing here, and You-Know-Who and I were to physically be pulling you in opposite directions, what would you do?"

Harry pursed his lips as he thought about it. "Well, I'd try to pull in your direction, and pull away from him."

Draco smiled. "Right. Well, you're going to need to do the same thing, only you need to hold on to me both magically, and emotionally, not physically."

If anything, Harry seemed a bit confused by this. He screwed up his face, as if trying to imagine how such a thing might be possible.

Draco's smile faltered. "Basically, the tighter you hold -"

"I get it, Draco. The tighter I hold, the better chance I have."

Draco frowned at Harry's tone of voice. "Pretty much."

Harry grimaced and looked away again. "I think I know what you mean... but I'm not really sure I understand how I'd do something like that. And even if I figure it out... I know it's something, but it still doesn't feel like much of a fight."

"It will be."

"It's still not the sort of fight I mean, and you know it."

Draco felt a little surge of irritation. "Would you rather storm the fortress or something? Would you? I'm doing my best here!"

Harry just stared at him for a moment. Then, with a moan, he flopped onto his back and covered his face with his hands.

"Harry?"

Harry just shook his head, indicating that he didn't want to talk. He lay like that for a couple of minutes while Draco fidgeted with one of the extra hawthorn thorns that hadn't been needed for the potion.

"This really isn't a clear-cut solution, is it?" Harry asked suddenly. His hands were still covering his eyes.

Draco put down the thorn. "No, it's not. And I told you, it's going to be a proper fight"

"When will we know if we've won?"

The question was so casual that if Draco hadn't become this familiar with Harry he would never have detected the underlying dread. Draco wanted to be able to give another answer, but there was only one he could give.

"We won't know until the eclipse reaches its peak. The moon is supposed to turn red when that happens."

"I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

Harry uncovered his eyes and looked up at Draco. "You said I should hold on mentally, and emotionally." His gaze drifted off somewhere over Draco's shoulder. "I... I think I might be able to do it better if I held on physically too. You know. To feel more... anchored."

Draco swallowed and gave Harry the best smile he could. "I think I can accommodate that."

"Thank you." There was a long pause. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Is this going to hurt?" The sheer innocence and thinly veiled fear in Harry's voice caused Draco's heart to stick in his throat, making him feel as if he might choke on it. The book never said anything about the victim's feelings, as it was written by wizards who would have been the ones using the potion. Again, Draco wanted desperately to reassure Harry, but he couldn't.

"I... I don't think so."

Harry gave the faintest nod, then let out a long, slow breath. Finally, he sat up and maneuvered around to sit shoulder to shoulder with Draco, looking out over the field. "I wish I wasn't scared."

"It's normal to be scared. You're facing a whole lot of unknowns."

He felt Harry shrug next to him. "I just can't imagine... that there's really a chance that I won't be here by tomorrow - and don't say 'you will be'. I need to be realistic right now. It's the only thing keeping me sane. But even then, this all seems so surreal."

"I know what you mean."

"It's what - maybe an hour and a half to sunset? And I don't even want to think that far ahead. I just keep thinking that if I hold on to the 'now', then time won't pass, and everything will just stay as it is."

"Then we'd never get back to Hogwarts," Draco reminded him gently.

"I don't care," Harry said morosely. "I'm fine right now."

Draco bumped his shoulder softly against Harry's. "But there's got to be so much stuff you want to do when you get back to Hogwarts, I'm sure. Things you've never done before that you can't do out in the middle of the woods."

Again, Harry shrugged, then scrunched up his legs tighter to his body. "You know... this field looks a bit like the one where we found the fairy ring. Do you think there might be one here tonight?"

Draco accepted the shift in conversation. "There might be. Seeing as I've only seen one in my life, I hardly qualify as an expert."

"You know more about it than I do. So tell me there's going to be a fairy ring here. Please?"

Draco hung his head and painted a sad smile across his face. "There's going to be an incredible fairy ring here tonight, Harry. Ten times as many fairies as there were at the other one."

"Tell me more."

"Well... as the sunset fades, they'll start rising out of the grass. Slowly at first, one by one. Then more and more until there are hundreds of them, floating in a spiral above the field."

Draco felt Harry lean against him, ever so slightly. "They're beautiful."

"They are. They're glowing a faint blue, and as they fly, they make the nighttime fog swirl around them. It looks like a giant halo on the field. And there's that chiming song they make. It's soft at first, but then louder and louder. The stars are pale in comparison. And they're dancing just for us, Harry. For you. And there's nobody else here. Just you, and me, and the fairies. And now their dance is slowing down. It's getting lighter on the eastern horizon. And as the fairies wink out, one by one, the sun comes up over that hill over there."

"It's a wonderful sunrise, Draco."

"It is, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and for several minutes, they just sat there, leaning against each other. Draco could almost let himself imagine that the sinking sun was rising, and it was already tomorrow morning. Lovely illusion, while it lasted.

"Can you tell me about another magical creature?" Harry asked suddenly. "Something that wasn't violent or lethal enough for Hagrid to teach us, and maybe something a bit... fanciful? Like the fairies?"

Draco chuckled despite himself. "Do you know anything about Sprites?"

"No. Will you tell me?"

Somehow, Draco suspected Harry knew about Sprites, because he vaguely remembered talking about them last week, while they'd been hiking, but it didn't matter. He talked about Sprites as the shadows lengthened. He switched to fauns as the sun brushed the treetops on the left side of the field. The sky was burning a bright orange blaze and the rays of sun were almost horizontal through the trees when Draco finally stopped talking about the fabled elves of northern Scandinavia.

"Harry..."

Harry was staring at his knees as he answered. "I know... you have to take the potion now."

"Are you okay? With this, I mean?"

Harry grunted noncommittally. "Why wouldn't I be? This is what's going to save me. I already told you, I'm going through with it. So please stop giving me the chance to second-guess myself!"

Draco felt a little bit stung by that, but he told himself that Harry was just doing what he could do to cope. Still, that didn't do anything to calm Draco's own nerves as he tipped the contents of the cauldron into the goblet Harry had transfigured. He held it up, facing the sunset. He was supposed to drink it by the last rays of the sun. However, as he watched the last traces of the sun through the trees, his own fears gripped him again. He still had no idea if this was going to work. He had no idea if the potion could be reversed in such a manner. He wondered if he indeed had remembered all the fine details, or if a mistake had been made somewhere. He wondered how it would taste; he wondered how it would feel. He wondered if he'd even brewed it right.

The sunlight on his face flickered, and like an alarm had gone off in his mind, he tipped the goblet to his lips without a second thought.

The liquid was faintly spicy against his tongue, yet at the same time, it had an odd, sickeningly sweet undertone. It was warm as it flowed down his throat. Not particularly palatable, but not terribly offensive either. He tried not to let himself think about what he was actually consuming until the last drop had been drained from the goblet. He set the goblet down and paused, trying to sense if anything felt different. So far, he couldn't feel anything. In a way, he supposed, that was a good thing. "Well, at least I didn't poison myself," he said, trying to give a chuckle.

Harry looked at him scornfully. "It's not a poisonous potion to the drinker, is it?"

When Draco hesitated, Harry's eyes went wide. At first, he seemed stunned. Quickly, his expression turned angry. "You never bothered to tell me that you just risked poisoning yourself!?"

"Well, if you brew it wrong... a couple of the ingredients are toxic on their own, yes," Draco said very matter-of-factly. "It's not as if you've never done something like that, might I remind you."

That didn't seem to placate Harry in the least. "You could have warned me! Are you -" Suddenly, as the last trace of yellow daylight blinked out, Harry clutched his chest and gasped. A second later, his hand went to his forehead.

Draco was about to grab him and demand to know what was wrong when he felt it too. As the first cool breeze of evening touched his face, he felt something grip his heart. For a brief, terrifying instant, it squeezed, like iron bars constricting around his chest, but then, it opened. Lacking any other way to describe it, Draco thought that it felt like a door to his soul had been blasted open, or a window had been smashed. He felt terribly exposed, and somehow connected to something outside of himself.

Realizing that he had stopped breathing for a moment, and that he was clutching his fist to his own chest just as Harry had done, Draco forced himself to breathe. He braced himself with one hand for balance as he adjusted to this new sensation. The connection wasn't actually unpleasant, but it was definitely something he'd never felt before. When he was finally able to raise his head, he looked up into a shocked pair of green eyes.

"I can feel it," Harry whispered. "The connection with you first, and a second later, the one with Voldemort. It's... it's not painful - well, my scar is prickling - but it's like my insides are being blown around, like trees in a storm. It's... disturbing." He suddenly looked as exposed as Draco felt. "Oh Merlin, I don't know if I can do this, Draco."

As Draco struggled to regain his own composure, he scooted closer to Harry. "You can do this, Harry. We can do this. I'm your anchor, and I'm not giving up." He reached out and took Harry's hand.

The instant their hands connected, two things happened. First, Draco was suddenly aware of Harry, in a way he'd never been aware of any human being but himself. Second, Harry gasped again, and Draco was sure he'd felt the same thing.

"The potion..." Draco began. "It opens up a channel between... the person who takes it, and the... the..."

"Victim," Harry finished for him, with unmistakable bitterness.

"Not in this case, Harry. Not between us."

"But Voldemort..." Harry shuddered. "I can feel him, like he's creeping up behind me. It's cold, a bit like a Dementor, but not quite. I don't want to think about it, but it's right here -" He thumped his chest with his fist. "- and I can't get rid of it."

Draco frowned sympathetically. It wasn't as if he could feel Harry's emotions, and he certainly couldn't hear his thoughts, but he could feel something there. Something that was unmistakably Harry. And even if Harry wasn't in physical agony, Draco could just tell that he was in pain. His eyes were haunted, and he looked smaller than Draco had ever seen him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Harry looked down at their clasped hands. "You're already doing it."

Draco didn't know what to say to that, so he replied by squeezing Harry's hand. Harry returned the squeeze.

"Draco... could I end up... er... inside Voldemort somehow? Like, my consciousness, or my mind, or something like that?"

"No, it's not like that. And he's not going to win anyway, so -"

"I know, I know you're going to tell me that he's not going to get me anyway, so it doesn't matter... but Draco, I need to know... what could happen?"

Draco pressed his lips together, as if that were enough to stop him from needing to answer, but Harry's stare was insistent. Draco let his head fall forward so he was looking at his lap when he spoke. "It pulls your life force, your soul, and your magic. But it's not like a possession. Your awareness won't end up anywhere but here." He tapped Harry's forehead with his free hand. "You don't turn into anyone else. You stay right here."

In the dimness of the evening, Draco could still see the trembling of Harry's lower lip, and feel the shaking through his clasped hand. "So when he drains my 'life force'... I'd die like a normal person, right?"

Draco could only nod in agreement.

Harry made a little sound like a whimper. At first, Draco thought he was just reacting to the hard piece of reality he'd just been given, but then he noticed that Harry was looking over his shoulder at something. Draco turned in place, not releasing Harry's hand, and looked across the far side of the field away from the sunset.

Over the distant hill, a thin, white sliver of light was glowing ominously. While he and Harry sat there watching, almost unable to move, the moon emerged from the horizon. The full roundness was visible before either of them spoke again.

"Oh god," Harry whispered.

In a snap, Draco turned back towards him. "Harry?"

Harry's face was contorted in the grimace of a person desperately trying to hold back tears. "I... this... I can't..." He was shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Tell me," Draco said as forcefully as he could.

"It's just too much. I... I want to cry, but that's ridiculous."

"Then cry," Draco said, softer this time.

Harry shook his head violently. "It's weak. And what good would it do me?"

"It won't do you any good to hold it back. Let it out, Harry. Nobody is here to see you but me, and I'd never think you're weak. You can cry."

It was like a floodgate bursting. In an instant, Harry had collapsed forward into Draco's arms, sobbing uncontrollably, gasping, shaking. Even after years of being told that emotion was weakness, and never to let someone see you crying, Draco couldn't see Harry's outburst as a failing. It wasn't weakness to cry when facing death in such a harsh manner. Sometimes, it's all a person could do. Harry was undeniably one of the strongest wizards Draco had ever met. The strongest, Draco thought bitterly, recalling Harry's words to him about the difference between strength and power.

They had faced so much, and while Harry had occasionally faltered, he'd never broken. A lesser wizard would have broken long ago, but Harry was still going. They were still going, together. Stronger together than apart. Surviving together where neither could alone. Standing together against an enemy most wizards dared not even name. There was no shame in tears now.

It never occurred to Draco that it might be awkward; he wrapped Harry in his arms and held him. For a long time, they sat like that. Cradled tight against Draco's chest, Harry slowly cried himself to the point of exhaustion.

By the time Harry's sobs quieted, the last light of day had completely disappeared from the sky, leaving a million stars shining brilliantly overhead, and the full moon hanging full and bright above the horizon.

"Harry, look up."

Harry shook his head against Draco's shoulder.

"The sky is beautiful tonight. You should see it."

"I don't want to see it. It's what's going to kill me. It's not beautiful."

"Harry." Draco pulled back just enough to see Harry's face, which was tilted down and to the side. "Harry, you can't blame the moon. No more than you could blame a retrograde Mercury if you crash your broom. It's a planet. Nothing more. And you might as well look, or you'll miss it."

Finally, Harry raised his head and twisted around so that his back was to Draco. He gave a little sob when he saw it. "You're right." He took a deep, shaky breath. "You're right."

Draco pulled Harry back to him by the shoulders, and then wrapped his arms around Harry's chest. "Looks like I finally got to show you the beauty in something out here."

To that, Harry gave a short laugh. "Yeah," he croaked. "I guess you did."

"And there will be plenty more beautiful things. Because we're stronger than him. And I'm not going to let him have you. I won't let him."

In his arms, Harry sat up a bit straighter.

Draco frowned. "What?

"It's... it reminds me of a dream I had... while we were back in the dungeons. Don't ask."

"I won't, then." He placed his hands back on Harry's shoulders and gave a light squeeze. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want," Harry repeated, but his tone was dark. "What I want... is a hundred more nights like tonight, but without having to worry about Voldemort. Call me greedy, but I want to live." He shifted uncomfortably. "There are so many things I want, and I never realized before... until I thought I might never have them."

"Will you tell me about them?"

There was a long pause. "Will you tell me some of the things you always wanted to do, too?"

Draco nodded, even though Harry couldn't see him. "Yes, I will. But you have to go first."

"I... wouldn't know what to talk about."

"The first things that comes to mind. Whatever you want to talk about. Maybe you could tell me what you want to do when you finish at Hogwarts."

For a moment, Harry didn't respond, but then he turned in place so that he and Draco were facing each other. Harry's face was illuminated from one side by the full moon, which seemed almost obscenely bright, and from the other side by the purple flames of the magical fire. "I wanted to become an Auror," he said finally.

"Want to become an Auror," Draco pressed.

"Fine. I want to become an Auror."

"Not professional Quidditch?" Draco teased.

Harry shook his head. "I don't want to be in the spotlight any more than I have to, and professional Quidditch would be just more and more of the same thing. Besides, if I made the team, I'd never be sure if I was picked for my skills, or for my name. It's not a pleasant thought."

"You really don't like fame, do you?"

"No. And once I realized just how famous," he spat the word, "I was, the more I hated it. Besides, you always said I got everything because I was the famous Harry Potter."

Draco grimaced at the excellent impression of his own drawl. "I said that, but I knew you were good at Quidditch. Hell, it wasn't your name catching the Snitch, as much as I wanted to pretend it was. It made me feel better to say it, because then I had an excuse. Besides... you got more of my father's attention than I did... without even trying." He looked away. "I'll admit, I was jealous."

When he looked back up again, Harry was smiling at him enigmatically. "I never thought I'd live to hear the day you'd say that."

"Well see, there you go, beating the odds. But if you made it onto a professional Quidditch team, you'd make it on talent alone."

Draco felt a flush of warmth as Harry's smile relaxed. "I don't suppose it would be fair to ask... but I always wanted to know. Did your father buy your way onto the Slytherin team? With those brooms?"

A melancholy sort of sadness caused the warmth to fade. "Actually, no. I tried out, fair and square. None of the other Slytherins had a Seeker's build, and I'd spent every day that previous summer practicing around the Manor grounds. I had got my father to agree to buy brooms for the team if I made the cut. I figured, if we all had better brooms, there was no way you could still win." He snorted. "And we all know how effective that plan was."

"You almost bested me in third year, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Draco said sullenly. "And you with that bloody Firebolt. I think we'd best change topics, before I feel tempted to throttle you."

Harry actually chuckled at him for that. "That's fair."

"You know what though?"

"What?"

Draco leaned forward a bit. "You would make a damn fine professional Quidditch player, but I think you'll make a better Auror."

Harry actually perked up at that. "You think so?"

"I know so. I saw you facing down You-Know-Who, and I've heard enough stories. I may have hated you for it, but you're damn good. Everyone knew it."

Harry was quiet for a long moment, apparently considering all this. "What about you? What do you want to do?"

Draco sat back again. "I haven't thought that far ahead. Right now, my ambition is to stay out of Azkaban for what I've done - and don't tell me it'll be fine, because you know how much trouble I could be in. For once, I'm actually counting on your influence as the great Harry Potter to help me out."

"You know I'd do anything I could."

"I know, Harry. And I'm grateful. But as for what I'm going to do... for years, I'd... er... planned to go into the family business. It wasn't so much that I wanted to follow the Dark Lord, but that it was my father's life's work, and I wanted to make him proud. It was just expected that I would follow in his footsteps, and so I'd planned on that. I didn't even care about finishing school. I wasn't planning to return to Hogwarts after I'd... well... kidnapped you. I was fully ready to finish my wizard's training under my father and the Dark Lord." He swallowed nervously. "I just hope Dumbledore will take me back for classes."

Harry reached out and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I know he will. And... what do you think you'll try to do when you graduate from Hogwarts? Because the 'family business' isn't an option anymore, is it?"

"I think..." A smile blossomed on Draco's face. "Maybe I'll try to become an Auror myself. You know... so I can keep an eye on you. You never know when you're going to need someone to pull you out of a mess."

"Or a hole."

"That too." Then Draco remembered the obvious, and he felt his heart sink. "But since when would the son of a Death Eater be allowed to become an Auror? Hell, what have I got to look forward to? Becoming a business partner over at Borgin and Burke's? Granted, I did always fancy that Hand of Glory they've got for sale, but that's not the basis for a future."

"I told you, it'll be okay, Draco."

"I know. And I'm trying to believe that. I really am." He scooted backwards, swung his feet around, and lay back on the cloak, looking up. "I just don't feel like I've got much to look forward to."

Harry didn't say anything, but he did join Draco in lying on his back to watch the sky slowly move past. As they lay there in silence, Draco swore he could feel that strange connection to Harry vibrating in the stillness. Again, he couldn't actually sense Harry, but he could feel the connection there, like an empty tunnel through which he could reach, and Harry would be at the other end. Not just Harry, but that energy which was Harry - the magic, the spark, the thing which was quintessentially Harry. He swore it was that something he had seen in Harry's eyes, the few times he'd looked into those eyes without glasses to hide them.

It was that pair of eyes that had shattered him, broken him down. Not the eyes themselves, but what he saw behind them. Some part of him was still yelling that he should be angry for that; for having been broken, allowed himself to be broken, but that voice was tired and faded. The rest of him wouldn't have traded that for the world.

"You know," Draco said slowly, "I think this is the best thing that's ever happened to me"

"What?" Harry's voice was high with disbelief. "Well, not that I'd want you to still be working for dear old Snake Eyes, but honestly? You're out here, in the middle of nowhere, with me, isolated from everything, with Voldemort wanting you dead, and not knowing if you'll have to make the rest of the journey back by yourself. And this is the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

To his own surprise, Draco was actually able to laugh at this. "When you put it that way, I suppose logic would tell me that this is probably the worst thing... but that's not what I mean."

"Then... what do you mean?"

Draco was glad the darkness hid the little rush of heat to his cheeks and ears. "I mean... you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I... I'm still not quite sure what you mean," Harry said slowly, as if he was afraid of each word.

"I mean... that I've never experienced anything like this, and I've never had a friend like you." Draco bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from saying anything more. He was afraid of what he might say. His mind was replaying Harry's words from the previous night. That random, sleepy little mumble. Harry didn't even seem to remember it, but Draco couldn't forget, and suddenly, the words were making far too much sense to him.

Draco used to think that he knew everything about Harry Potter. After three weeks of traveling, eating, and sleeping together, side by side, Draco had come to realize that until now, he hadn't known a thing about Harry.

Harry had a sarcastic sense of humour, and a keen sense of observation, but could be completely naïve and oblivious to the world at the most amusing times. Harry was a daring, outspoken, bold individual, yet Draco found he would blush at a careful twist of a phrase. Harry was the only person who could make Draco blush. Harry also looked damn good in a pair of boxer shorts.

Draco could feel himself blushing again in the darkness, and he realized a long moment of silence had passed. He was searching for something to say when Harry's hand suddenly slipped into his, and gave a squeeze. Too surprised to do anything else, and too pleased to care, Draco squeezed back.

*********

Harry lay like that for a long time: flat on his back, staring at the stars, trying to ignore the moon, with Draco's hand clutched tightly in his own. Right now, it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. His mind was flying in a dozen directions at once. In his fear of the impending event, he was having a hard time convincing himself that he should even try to keep his mind firmly in the present. Ignoring reality would certainly have been easier, but at the same time, he had a desperate need to remember everything, to be fully present somehow, right here and right now, just in case it was his last night. He almost felt like he should be doing something exciting or phenomenal, to make the most of every moment, but he felt like there was nothing he could do. Instead, he was wrapped up in cacophony of thoughts vying for attention in his head.

He kept thinking of Hogwarts, wondering if he'd ever be able to walk the halls of his school again - the one place he thought of as home, more than anywhere else. He thought of his friends back there who were probably sick with worry. He wondered if Dumbledore had ever received their message, and he bit back a flash of anger that the Headmaster had not found them. He wondered if he'd ever get a chance to become an Auror, and if Draco might even try to join him. It would be nice, he thought. He remembered Quidditch, wishing he could play just one more game, just once. He thought about warm, frothy mugs of butterbeer, and Honeydukes' chocolate, and the incredible food from the yearly welcoming feast, and wished he'd eaten more of it at the time. And he worried about tonight's plan, and how it might work, and if it would work, and if Draco would be able to handle it.

The moon rose ever higher. The connections the potions had created were impossible to ignore, swirling his insides around like a late autumn storm. It wasn't painful. It was like an odd pressure, all over and inside his body, but at the same time, the pressure felt hollow. If he closed his eyes, he thought he could tell what part of it was Voldemort, and what was Draco. Although the sensation wasn't exactly physical, he felt that Voldemort's pressure was sharp, and cold. It seemed ready to ooze poison, bursting through the cracks, ready to rush forth and kill him at the first opportunity. Draco's presence, on the other hand, was less easy to describe, but Harry just wanted to cling to it, and not let go. If he let go, when Voldemort's poison finally burst out of its floodgates, he felt that he would be swept away by it, and nothing could save him then.

If nothing else, he could at least comfort himself with the notion that no matter what, Voldemort wouldn't win. No matter what, if it looked like the plan was going to fail, Draco would keep his promise. At least, Harry desperately hoped he would. Of course, he hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

He trusted Draco. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how comfortable he was with that trust. That fact alone should be disconcerting, he realized, considering how little time they had really known each other, without wanting to leave the other bleeding. Yet in the little time they'd had, so much had changed. Granted, they'd spent much of their time throwing friendly jibes back and forth, picking on each other, or even fighting, but somehow, it seemed that even those things left him feeling closer to Draco than as if he'd just poured out all of his deepest secrets. It felt right; it felt good. It felt like Draco should have always been there, and that he'd been missing something important all this time. The only feelings that he wasn't sure about were his exact feelings about Draco.

All day yesterday, and even more so this morning, his thoughts regarding Draco had become strange. For some reason, he felt different about Draco, but he wasn't quite sure what was different. Perhaps he was worried about losing this new friendship just as it was beginning. Maybe he'd become so close to Draco in the past two weeks, he couldn't imagine it ever ending. Either way, when he thought of Draco, he found that he wanted to simply hold tight, and not let go.

It was ridiculous of course. He'd told himself to stop it, but the more upset or worried he'd become, the more he'd just wanted Draco to tell him it would be okay. Not that he would have ever admitted it, but he wanted Draco to take care of everything. After Draco had used the Sleep Aid charm, and his worries had just drifted away, Harry vaguely remembered Draco tucking the cloak up around his shoulders, and taking off his glasses. For once, he felt like someone was really watching out for him, taking care of him. He couldn't even put to words how much he'd appreciated the feeling, so he hadn't said so. Or at least, he didn't think he'd said so, although Draco said he was talking in his sleep.

What would he have said to Draco anyway? What do you say to someone who might have just become your best friend, in an indescribable, shocking, exhilarating way? Even more difficult when that person had just told you that you were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and for some insane reason, you realized you felt the same way. What do you say to a friend who might be your last human contact? Who might be the only thing standing between you and the unthinkable?

And just in case the unthinkable happened, how do you say goodbye?

Harry finally let himself look at the moon. It wasn't directly overhead, but it seemed to have jumped a lot higher since he'd last looked at it. He gritted his teeth, trying not to let himself become emotional. If nothing else, he was determined to maintain some last grip on sanity. His earlier outburst had been bad enough. Strangely, he didn't feel too terribly embarrassed by the whole thing, even though when he'd pulled away, he was sure he'd left a fair sized wet patch on Draco's shoulder from his sobbing. However, there was no way he was going to crack again.

Dumbledore had always said that there were worse things than death. The Headmaster's words came back to him. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

That was what he needed to do; he had to organize his thoughts, calm himself, and make sure he said everything that needed to be said... before it was too late.

Suddenly, he released his grip on Draco's hand, and rolled up onto his side, facing Draco. The abrupt motion obviously startled Draco, who seemed to be shaken out of his own thoughts with some difficulty.

"Wha... huh... Harry? Is something wrong?" He rolled so he was also on his side, facing Harry, propped up on his elbow. "Are you okay?"

"Actually, I'm fine." He steeled himself. "I was thinking... there are some things that I need to say, because I might never have another chance."

"What do you mean?"

Harry reached out and pressed a finger against Draco's lips to quiet him. "I mean... I don't always say everything that I ought, when I ought to say it. There are things that I haven't told people... things I want to make sure that they know. I need to say exactly what's on my mind, right now, just in case... you know... I don't make it back."

At first, Draco seemed ready to protest, but he conceded with a nod. "Okay then. Tell me... whatever it is you need to tell me."

Harry swallowed and took a calming breath. This wasn't going to be easy. "First, I need you to bring back some messages for me. I need you to tell Dumbledore that I'm sorry, and that I think I understand what he meant... about death. He'll know what I mean."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't ask what Harry meant to apologize for. "Go on."

"Tell Hermione... er... tell her that I'm sorry I never read 'Hogwarts, A History'... oh Merlin, that's stupid. God, what do you say? She's one of my best friends; she's done so much for me, and I need to tell her something, but I don't know what."

"Well," Draco said slowly, "what would you say to her if you were going away for a very long time, say, two or three years?"

Harry blinked, and tried to put himself into that mindset. Not forever, just for a while. There was no such thing as forever. He took a deep breath. "I'd tell her that I'd miss her, and to take care of herself. I'd tell her I'd be thinking of her, and that I can't wait to see her again. I might even tell her that by the time I get back, she and Ron had better stop fighting like a married couple."

Draco snorted in amusement. "That won't happen until they actually marry, and the peace might last halfway through the honeymoon."

Harry had to laugh at that. "You're probably right. I'd tell her to take care of Ron, because I don't think he can really take care of himself. And I'd tell her that I'd expect her to either be the Minister of Magic by the time I returned, or to have formed her own underground activist group to fight injustice against house elves."

"That makes sense," Draco said, still sounding amused. "Anything else?"

Harry smiled sadly. "I'd tell her that she meant the world to me, and how I owed her my life many times over, and that she was one of the best friends I could ever ask for. She's shrewd, clever, level-headed... not like most girls. Except when she fawned over Lockhart like every other girl in school, but I guess nobody's perfect."

"Then that's what I would tell her," Draco said solemnly, "except I'll leave out the Lockhart stuff."

Harry gave Draco a meaningful look. "Thank you."

Draco tipped his head in acknowledgment.

"And Ron..." Harry began thoughtfully.

Draco suddenly looked a lot less complacent. "As long as Weasley doesn't hex me on sight, that is." When Harry glared at him, he grimaced. "Okay, okay, I'm sure I can fend him off long enough to deliver the message - which I'm still sure I won't have to anyway, but go on."

Harry rolled his eyes. It appeared that some things would never change. "Tell Ron... that he's been the closest thing I've ever had to a brother, and that I cared about him a lot... even when he was acting like a prat. Tell him that I'll miss all the games of Wizard's Chess we shared. I think those were some of my favourite times. Hermione was always there to help, but Ron was always there when I just needed to forget about everything, and to escape. Sometimes, I think that was the most important thing... to just feel normal for a change... and he gave me that. Damn, there's so much I want to say, but I can't seem to put any of it into words."

Then a thought struck him, and he grinned at Draco. "You know, sometimes, he's not that different from you."

Draco lowered his head and glowered defensively. "You really know how to flatter a person, Potter."

"It's true," Harry pressed. "You both have your convictions, you tend to get angry quickly... hell, it's no wonder you hate each other. But in case you didn't notice, he's been my best friend for more than five years now, so there must be something about him that I like. So then why would you having something in common with him be so bad?"

Draco grumbled something, but Harry thought it sounded like agreement.

"Ron tends to get carried away with his emotions, and doesn't always think... but when it comes down to it, I couldn't have imagined life without him. He's been there when I really needed him. He'll hold grudges, but he's loyal. He really is. He may not have had much money, but he would have given anything if he could have. I would have given him what he needed, but he never would have accepted it. But now, I think it would be different. Tell him that he can have my broomstick. Promise me, Draco, you'll tell him to take the broomstick."

Draco almost seemed taken aback by the ferocity of Harry's demand, so much that he stammered. "I... I promise, Harry. Is there anything else?"

"Two things, actually. First, I want you to try to get to know Ron and Hermione, even if I'm not there. I don't expect miracles... I'm just asking you to try. You said you were worried that you'd have nobody when you got back. Well, you've got people... you just have to be willing to cross those lines."

"Oh sure, that would go beautifully." He threw his hands in the air dramatically. "'Hey, Weasley, your best mate just died because of me. Wanna be pals?' I'd have more holes than a piece of baby Swiss by the time he's done cursing me."

"Draco, I don't think it'll go like that. It may take Ron a while to warm up to the idea... but trust me. Talk to Hermione, talk to Dumbledore. Ron will come around eventually. If not for you then for me."

Draco muttered something under his breath, then cast a glance back at Harry. "Okay, I'll do it... that is, if I need to. Which I won't. But I promised I wouldn't argue that with you right now."

"That's all I ask. And then, there's one more thing. Tell Dumbledore that I want the Weasleys to have everything in my Gringotts vault. I would have given them some of it before, if I'd thought they would have accepted it. Now... well... just make sure the money goes to them."

Draco gave a stilted nod, looking as if his emotions had just taken a sharp cut, and were starting to fray. It took Harry a moment to figure out why.

"Draco... do you have your own Gringotts account? Or was it always your parents' money?"

Draco turned his head away, staring blankly at the purple campfire. "It was never my money." Suddenly, his expression turned hard. "But don't you even think of giving me charity, Potter. I don't want it, and I don't need it."

Harry stared at Draco in disbelief. "It's not charity when you're taking care of your friends! I want the Weasleys to have the money because they're my friends - my family - and I care about them. Not because they're a charity case!"

After a moment, Draco turned to him, his expression tight and guarded. "I got myself into this mess, and I'll get myself out of it."

"Weren't you just saying earlier that we made a good team?" Harry said angrily. "And that neither of us could have come this far without the other?"

Draco only looked away again.

"And you've saved my arse a couple of times now. I owe you. And when you do succeed tonight I'll owe you again!"

Draco grunted.

Harry shot him a disapproving look. "Well, if you stop worrying about your pride more than your future, and decide to accept it, the key to my Gringotts vault is in the bottom of my school trunk, in a little blue cloth bag."

Draco didn't look up, but he spoke. His tone was harsh and sarcastic. "And even if I were to decide to... accept your non-charity... how would they all know that I wasn't just stealing it from you? Why would they let me just have a single Knut of your money, after you had died because of me in the first place? Brilliant as usual, Potter."

"I..." Harry stopped suddenly. He'd just assumed they would trust Draco because he trusted Draco. Obviously, if Draco were to just go into his school trunk, looking for his Gringotts key, very few people would simply let it go unchallenged. "Wait a moment."

Harry reached over and grabbed the parchment on which Draco had drawn the spell diagram, and flipped it over. He pulled his wand out of his pocked, muttered Scripto Scriptari! and tapped the tip of his wand against the blank side of the parchment. In the dim light, he could see the fine dot of ink it left. Quickly, he set to work, writing. When he finished, he signed it, incanted a quick drying spell, rolled it up, and handed it to Draco. "Don't read it until you get back. And if - when - we get back together, you won't need it anyway. But if anyone questions you, just show that to them. And like I said, the key is in a little blue bag. Draco... please don't be so proud that you'd starve, rather than let me help you."

"I'll think about it," Draco mumbled in reply.

"That's all I can ask," Harry said.

For a long moment, Harry stared at Draco, not really sure how to broach the next thing he had to say, the final message he'd been saving until last. He knew what he needed to tell Draco, but now, facing it, the words just couldn't come. Before he could muster up the courage, however, Draco flopped down on his stomach, propping his chin up on his hands.

"I really didn't think it through when I left, did I?" he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to Harry. "I just marooned myself, without anything but my stuff at Hogwarts, and the little bit of money I have saved in a small security safe in my trunk."

"Security safe?" Harry couldn't help but asking. "Surely you didn't think your friends would have stolen from you?"

"Naïve little Harry," Draco said patronizingly. "They're Slytherins. Of course they would have. Slytherins watch each other's backs, but they're just as likely to stab you in the back if it serves them. I... er... wasn't any better."

"Really," Harry said flatly. "And now?"

Draco shrugged. "I told you, I never intended to become one of Dumbledore's goody-goodies. Old habits die hard, and there are some things... that I don't think will change about me. To be honest, I don't know how I'm going to start a new life." He ran one of his hands through his hair, giving it a solid tug at the back of his head; something Harry had noticed that Draco only did when he was extremely nervous. "I've been thinking about this... since last night... about why I left."

Harry frowned. "You never really told me, you know."

"That's partially because I wasn't really too clear on it myself."

That surprised Harry. "Wait a minute. You made the most life-altering decision you possibly could have made, and you're not sure why you did it?"

Draco laughed bitterly. "Actually, it's the only life-altering decision I ever made. I think that's part of the point. You kept talking about choices, and how it was all up to me, and I couldn't hide behind the illusion that it wasn't my choice. After I got back from my audience with the Dark Lord, and then what happened with my father... and you... it just all felt so wrong. Backwards. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't let myself be used anymore."

"So you ran."

"No," Draco said quickly. "I made a choice. For the first fucking time in my life, I made a real choice. If I had just meant to run..." He hesitated, and took a long look at Harry. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "If I had just meant to run, I would have taken up my stuff, and run."

"You wouldn't have taken me," Harry said, beginning to understand. "I wasn't exactly in top form -"

"Semi-conscious during most of it, actually."

"Well... yeah."

Draco gave him a tentative half-smile. "A three-day starvation diet and blood loss doesn't exactly do great things for physical fitness."

Harry snorted at him. "But the point is that I slowed you down. A lot. If you'd just wanted to run, you wouldn't have taken me. But you made the choice to take me."

Draco closed his eyes. "And if I'd just been scared, I wouldn't have run at all."

"Wormtail," Harry said suddenly, as the memory flashed through his mind.

Draco jerked his head upwards as if he'd been stunned. "What?"

"Wormtail said he went to Voldemort because he was scared. He told me that... when he let us escape. He went back to Voldemort because he was scared... and he stayed with Voldemort for the same reason." Harry mused over it for a second. "If someone is scared of Voldemort, the last thing he'd probably do is to do anything to make him more angry. So... why did you run?"

For several long moments, Draco stared at the ground in front of him, as if he could see his own thoughts being played out in a chaotic pattern on the cloak. "There are a few reasons," he said, when it seemed he'd organized his thoughts. "At least, this is what I can make of it. The first comes from what you said about servitude - how the Dark Lord doesn't give power; he just takes it. I had thought about it...and I didn't want to believe it. My father had always told me how much power comes with service to the Dark Lord. But when he had me up in that tower, on my knees in front of him, I didn't feel powerful. I felt like the lowest creature on earth. Worthless. And there he was, essentially asking me if I would be willing to throw my life away, just because he said so. I don't know about anyone else, but I like to think my life is worth a bit more than that."

Harry said nothing.

Draco continued. "Second, I didn't like the idea that I'd been trained, almost like an animal, to become a suitable servant for the Dark Lord. My... father -" He choked on the word. "- wanted the best for me. What he saw as the best. And to do that, I needed to be a certain way. So he trained me. And if I'd been better... stronger... I might have lived up to his wishes. Maybe 'better' is the wrong word. More single-minded, perhaps. Maybe if I hadn't let myself be distracted."

Draco gave Harry a twisted smile. "You're a damn good distraction, you know that?"

"Er... thank you?"

Draco just shook his head, the odd smile not wavering. "Anyway, if I hadn't already been on shaky ground, you wouldn't have been able to distract me. Which... leads me to my final reason. The one I've thought about most. The one which is the reason why I probably brought you."

He looked up at Harry. For a long moment, he simply surveyed Harry's face as he put his words together.

"Your eyes scared me," he finally said. "I don't know if you were aware, but they scared me. Not the same way You-Know-Who's eyes do, all red and glowing. I swear, when you glared at me, from the other side of those bars, it was like I was the prisoner. I felt powerless. Weak. Like you could drill right through me, just by staring. The first time I saw you without glasses - and yes, it was because I'd taken them - you were furious. You'd just woken up, and you glared at me, and I'd never felt so small, even though you were my prisoner, even though I thought I was the one with the power. And you glared at Voldemort, and if someone had told me that you were going to kill him just by staring at him, I would have believed it. I could see how much strength you had; the strength to stand up to him.

"I was taught something when I was younger... about respect and power. You give respect to the person with the most power. You-Know-Who has power... but you had something else. I finally figured it out. Actually, you told me, and I finally understood it. You refused to let him win, and I saw that, and I was amazed. Impressed. Stunned." Draco paused for a moment, and his eyes widened, as if he was seeing Harry for the first time. "I think I just realized... why I had to follow you, not him. You were stronger. You had something he could never take from you... and that's why you're going to win, Harry. I don't think I can explain it right, but it's like a type of magic I hadn't known before. I thought the Dark Arts were a source of power, and then I saw you."

Draco laughed; it sounded almost insane. "I wanted to play for the winning team, and look where I am! I've picked sides. I chose, and look at what I chose! My winning team."

Harry's head was reeling with the things Draco was saying. It sounded as if he were coming to these revelations as he was speaking, and Harry could only imagine what kind of whirl was spinning through Draco's mind. "Draco?"

If anything, Draco's smile became shy. "Maybe you are everything they say. Maybe you are the 'Chosen One', the one who can defeat him. The things they were saying this past summer... I wouldn't believe it. I wouldn't even admit I'd heard it. But now, I think they might be right."

On his knees, Draco came a bit closer to Harry, so they were kneeling, facing each other. "And to think... here I am, sitting out in the middle of nowhere, and I've got the hero of the wizarding world, all to myself. Forget the Dark Lord. Forget Dumbledore. I've got the most powerful wizard in the world, sitting right here in front of me. And that's not even the most impressive thing. And it took me until now to realize just what I really had."

Harry suddenly realized his throat was growing tight. "Draco," he croaked, "I'm not powerful. My OWL scores were decent, but nothing -"

Draco scowled at him. "Harry, do you honestly think that OWL scores are the determining factor in a wizard's power? You've got something else. I don't know what it is, but you do."

An unsettling feeling worked its way through Harry's gut as he remembered something Dumbledore had told him. "Dumbledore used to say that the most powerful magic of all is love. He said that's what I've got. It was what my mother gave me. I think it's why I've survived as long as I have. My friends, Ron's parents, everyone... they all loved me. They've all been there for me. Without them, I'd be dead. I'm nothing by myself."

Draco was suddenly smiling, but it looked like he wanted to cry. "But Harry... didn't you love them first?"

It was like a shock, and Harry felt his eyes go wide as he realized the implications of what he'd been told. He was absorbing this as Draco spoke softly. "You escaped the dungeons back there... not because I let you out... but - I think - because you bothered to care about me in the first place."

Slowly, Draco reached up, and pulled Harry's glasses off his face. Draco was a pale blur in the moonlight, but from only a foot away, Harry could make out his features enough to know that he was still smiling. "I'm not scared of your eyes anymore."

*********

"I want to play at least one more Quidditch game," Harry said. "Last year wasn't the way I wanted to end my Quidditch career."

They were sitting side by side, looking out over the moonlit field, talking, and pretending that the moon hadn't moved at all. Draco was enjoying the warmth of Harry's shoulder, which was pressing lightly against his own. The presence was comfortable and reassuring, and Draco was sure Harry was taking more emotional support than physical support by leaning on him. Not that he was complaining, not at all.

"No, the Quidditch season wasn't exactly the highlight of your year, was it?" Draco said softly in agreement. "I was ready to finally run you into the ground, but no, you had to take half the season off."

"You weren't complaining at the time," Harry said, in mock-irritation.

"Well of course not. I figured I'd finally have a chance to catch that damn ball."

Harry laughed lightly. "Ginny was a bit tougher than you thought she'd be, wasn't she?"

Draco growled low in his throat. "I'm telling you, Weasleys were put on this earth for one purpose, and one purpose only."

"Which is...?"

"To make my life a living hell." Draco allowed himself a little chuckle. "After last season, I'll be happy to have you back playing Seeker for the Gryffindorks."

"Yeah, because at least you have plenty of practice losing to me."

"Precisely," Draco sniffed. "Losing to the She-Weasel was the deepest form of insult."

"And the point being that she did beat you. In spectacular fashion, from what I was told."

Draco elbowed Harry lightly. "Thanks for the lovely reminder," he said sarcastically. "I think I shall sentence myself to live out my years as a hermit in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, due to the utter shame of it all."

"You could... but if the Centaurs don't kill you, the nest of Acromantulas certainly will. And as you said, you're such a juicy morsel."

"Acromantulas?" Draco sat up a bit straighter. "That was just a rumour. There aren't really any of those in Britain... are there?"

Harry nodded.

"But how in the name of Merlin -"

"Hagrid," Harry said flatly.

"Aaaaah," Draco responded, letting the pieces fall together. "One more reason to despise that great oaf. I hate spiders."

Harry turned his head to look at him, appearing amused. "I told you that you and Ron have a lot in common. He can't stand spiders."

Draco could only moan in dismay. "I can't win!"

Harry laughed and nudged him with his shoulder. "At least you two will have plenty to talk about."

"Please, Harry, stop," he whined. "I can't take any more of this. You really are a sadist, you cruel person, you."

Harry only laughed some more.

Draco grumbled. "Just you wait until the Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch match. I'll get you for this."

"I'm counting on it. And I'm looking forward to it."

"Yes, the great Seeker-hero, returning to his hoards of fans and worshippers. And when you stride victoriously away... or, as I see it, when you trudge off the pitch in sheer, abject misery... and receive your hero's welcome, or more appropriately, your pity party -"

"Will you get to the point, or are you just trying to rain on my parade before it even happens?"

"Let's just say it's high time Slytherin puts you in your place."

Harry hesitated for a split second, then gave Draco an incredulous look. "So even after all this, if your housemates don't kill you, you'll still play Seeker for them?"

Draco felt an uncomfortable jolt in his stomach, but quickly shook it off. "I shall now forget that I heard a word of that, and delude myself with my fantasies of Quidditch glory."

Harry let out a slow breath. "Well, enjoy your fantasies, Draco, because I'm still going to crush you."

"Harry, Harry, Harry..."

"Lockhart, Lockhart, Lockhart."

Draco scowled. "Just for that, you're going down, Potter. I'm sure the She-Weasel will give you a great pity - er - victory snog, in front of the entire school, and you'll forget all about how thoroughly Slytherin wiped up the pitch with you."

Next to him, Draco felt Harry stiffen.

Draco raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh? Something you're not telling me?"

Harry looked at him, with a look of disapproval, and possible disgust, plastered across his face. "That's just so... wrong somehow. She's Ron's sister. Hell, she's almost like my own sister!"

"Wasn't she practically throwing herself at you a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah, but... it made me uncomfortable."

Draco smiled inwardly. "Was Cho Chang really the only girl you ever kissed?"

"I told you, that fiasco can hardly be called a 'kiss'. More like a 'miss'." Harry paused for a moment, then tipped his face forward into his hands and let out a desolate groan. "There's a damn good reason to live through this. I'm sixteen years old, and I've never had a proper kiss! What kind of teenage boy am I?"

Draco tried to shrug casually, like he really didn't care. "The kind of boy who's been busier worrying about more important things?"

Harry snorted in response. "Well, just as a matter of course, I think it would be nice to be snogged at least once before I die."

Draco found himself biting his tongue so hard that he winced. "Well," he said around a sore tongue, "if it makes you feel any better... I... er... haven't actually snogged anyone before either."

If Harry was surprised by Draco's admission, which he'd seemed to be trying to obtain before, he didn't show it. "Waiting for the right girl to come along?" Harry said bitterly.

"Well actually -"

"I think," Harry interrupted, "that I'm starting to accept the fact that I'm just hopeless when it comes to girls. Maybe I've just been too busy, but I still don't even see the appeal. I mean, really, they're quite... well... girls."

"You did manage to take one to the Yule Ball," Draco pointed out, wondering where this might go.

Harry shook his head, laughing mirthlessly. "Ron and I blew them off, and pretty much spent the whole time together, avoiding our dates. Although... looking back, I think Ron was too busy watching Hermione with Krum, and trying not to choke on his drink."

Draco sat in silence, thinking.

"You know... that's another thing I never did," Harry continued.

"What?"

"I've never danced."

"Danced?"

Harry shot him a bemused look. "I think I hear an echo. Yes, danced. I don't know how to dance, and I didn't care about it at the time, and at the Yule Ball, I avoided the dance floor like the plague... but now that I think of it... it just seems like one of those things that everyone should have done at least once. You know, like one of those things parents probably teach their children."

Draco's face fell. "My father hired a dance instructor the summer before fourth year. He was too busy."

Harry looked at him for a long moment, then tipped his head. "At least you learned."

The words jumped out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them. "I could teach you."

Harry's head jerked backwards in surprise. "What?"

Draco swallowed, wondering why he'd said such a thing, but it was too late to back out now. And he found that he didn't want to back out. "I said, I -"

"I caught that part. But... your ankle... and there's no music... and -"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said softly. "Nothing fancy. Just... I can show you. That is... I'd like to. If you'd let me. Please, Harry?"

With some leveraging, and a little grunt of pain, Draco got to his feet, and looked down at Harry. "Please?" He held his hand out. "Let me?"

Harry was looking up at Draco with a slight glaze in his eyes, mouth hanging open just a bit. Slowly, he reached up and took Draco's hand. He didn't put much weight on Draco's grasp, but he let himself be pulled to his feet, and let his hand linger in Draco's grasp just a bit longer than necessary.

He looked nervous, like he was unsure of where to put his hands, and at the same time speechless, and perhaps a bit intoxicated. His skin was tinted pale blue in the moonlight, but even then, Draco thought he could see a flush in his cheeks. However, the reflection of the moon off Harry's glasses obscured his eyes somewhat, so Draco couldn't be fully sure what he was thinking. Still, Draco had roused him for a reason, and now, he was going to follow through.

"Okay, I'd show you the Wizard's Waltz, but I don't think my ankle will quite hold up to that... so..." He glanced down at Harry's hands, then back up at his face. Shaking off any last reservations Draco stepped forward so that their bodies were mere inches apart, and their faces were close enough so that Draco could see the fine hairs that were beginning to darken along Harry's upper lip. "First," he whispered, "you need to put your hands on my hips."

Harry moved to obey, hesitantly, resting his fingertips so lightly on Draco's hips that he could hardly feel it.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to break, Harry." He was sure he saw Harry blush even more deeply. "Here, how about this." In one decisive movement, Draco reached up and rested his forearms on Harry's shoulders, wrapping his fingers around towards Harry's shoulder blades. He leaned forward, just a bit, and rested some of his weight on Harry. Draco could feel Harry trembling, they were so close.

"Now what?" Harry whispered, his voice wavering slightly. "There's... er... no music."

Draco felt a smile creep across his face. "Listen to the fairy music, Harry."

"But there aren't any -"

"Yes, there are. Remember? They're all around us now. They've been waiting all night. And they're singing for you." Draco adjusted his arms a bit tighter around Harry's shoulders. "Just close your eyes. Tell me you hear them."

After a second, Harry's eyes fluttered closed behind his glasses. A moment later, he smiled. "I can hear them."

"Good. Now, let your body move with the music. Sway back and forth. Move your feet just a little bit."

Draco watched Harry's face as he slowly started to move to the unheard chimes. His mouth was pinched, but he seemed to be caught up in some sort of euphoric elation, not displeasure. Draco moved with him, and it seemed, with each step, they moved the tiniest bit closer.

Draco could feel the beating of Harry's heart, feel his breath on his cheek. He'd never been this close to another human being, not like this. He and Harry were moving together, and somewhere in his chest, he could still feel the weird sensation of the connection the Soul's Eclipse potion had forged between his own soul and Harry's. Somehow, Draco suspected that even without that nagging connection, which was stirring his insides uncomfortably, he'd still feel just as close to Harry, and just as connected. As he watched Harry's face, for the briefest moment, he thought he saw the shining glint of a tear trailing down behind Harry's glasses.

Then, in one swift movement, Harry tilted forward, wrapped his arms tight around Draco's waist, and buried his head against Draco's shoulder. Stunned by the sudden movement, Draco could only react instinctively. He enfolded Harry completely in his embrace, and held him tight. He felt so protective just then, as if his arms were the only thing guarding Harry from the dangers that could kill him that night. In his arms, Harry was still shivering, but not crying. As much to comfort himself as to comfort Harry, Draco nestled his chin against Harry's ear.

They were close and comfortable, supporting each other, holding tight as if they could defy the wheels of time if they refused to let go. Draco closed his eyes, and imagined that he and Harry were standing back in the real fairy ring. It was so tempting, he could easily let himself believe the fantasy. The moon wasn't full, and Harry wasn't yet aware of the threat facing him. It was innocent and free. There were no worries, no dangers. Just the grass beneath their feet, the stars in the sky, and the hundreds of fairies, dancing around them. And they danced.

For a long time, they stood like that, swaying slightly to the music of the wind in the trees, and to the chimes of the fairies that only existed in their minds.

Finally, Harry took a deep breath and pulled back to face him. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You're more than welcome, Harry."

He expected Harry to let go, and sit back down, but Harry didn't move. He stood there, his face mere inches from Draco's, wearing the saddest expression. "We've rushed and rushed and rushed, and now, it feels like the world has just come to a standstill."

"Maybe the world is still rushing, but we've just come to a standstill," Draco replied, not quite sure if it made any sense. "Or maybe we've finally come to the right place and there isn't a need to rush anymore."

"Is this the right place?" Harry asked. "Is this where we're meant to be? Right now?"

Draco gave the faintest shrug. "I don't really believe in fate, but this is better than back in the dungeons. If we weren't here, where would we be right now?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry whispered, leaning in just a bit. "We're here."

"Yes, we are."

They were so close. Draco could feel the heat radiating off Harry's body. As he looked at his friend's face, the entire past two weeks came back to him in a rush. Everything he'd been through, everything he'd felt. It was all so much - too much - but in the end, they were here. Face to face. And something was so right about it.

Then, Harry gasped. An instant later, his knees gave out beneath him as he crumbled into Draco's arms, clinging as though his life depended on it.

"Harry!" Draco cried out. "Harry, what's -" And then Draco felt it, too. The connection, that empty tunnel between them, was no longer empty. Instead, something was vibrating between them, pulling at something deep in his chest. Holding tight to Harry, and ignoring the pain that had blossomed in his ankle again, Draco looked up at the sky. On first glance, the moon appeared full, but then Draco saw it. Out of one side, a small dent marred the smooth outline of the lunar profile.

"It's beginning," Draco said, even though he desperately wanted to believe that it was an illusion. He quickly returned his attention to Harry and struggled to support his dazed friend. "Harry, can you stand? Talk to me, Harry!"

"I... I'm fine," Harry choked out. He sounded like he was trying to catch his breath as he scrambled to pull his legs steady beneath him. "It just caught me by surprise."

"Do you need to sit down?"

"No!" Harry said in a rush. He took a deep breath, and repeated, "No. I'm not going to let him affect me. I'm not going to let him stop me from doing what I want! And I won't sit down because of him!"

Draco was taken aback by the sudden vehemence in Harry's voice. "Harry..."

"Voldemort has taken everything from me, Draco! We were... that was... that was nice, and then he had to interrupt! I can't have anything without Voldemort tainting it!" He pulled back suddenly, breaking contact with Draco. "I lost my parents, I've lost classmates, I lost my godfather, and now, I'm going to lose everything! I'm going to lose you! I hate it! I hate him! OH!"

Harry doubled over, clutching his chest. Simultaneously, Draco felt his own connection with Harry slip; it felt like a small hook had been torn out of his heart. He quickly closed the gap between them, grabbed Harry by the arms, and hurried to steady him. "Don't think about him!" Draco barked. "Don't even think about You-Know-Who! Look at me, Harry!" He managed to pull Harry fully upright, and was looked sharply into Harry's dazed eyes. "Focus on me, do you hear me? If you focus on him, you'll only feed into his connection faster! Pull away from it. Stay here." Draco gave Harry a little shake for emphasis.

Harry blinked a few times, but his eyes were glassy, and it seemed like he was barely present. It was very disconcerting. Draco nervously reached up with one hand and cupped Harry's cheek. "Harry? Hey, Harry? Look at me."

Finally, Harry's eyes focused again. "Draco?"

Draco gave a watery smile. "Yes, that's better."

Harry nodded weakly, then shuddered.

"Are you in pain?"

"No... at least, not pain like a broken arm or my scar hurting. It's more like... discomfort, but not normal physical discomfort." He looked away to the side, tucking his chin against his shoulder. "It feels like I'm being pulled along with a current, towards a hole sucking everything into it. And the current is cold."

Draco felt a twist in his gut as the mental image worked its way into his mind, and he could almost feel the frigid, terrifying swirl of icy water around him. Not around him - around Harry. Pulling Harry away, drowning him. Without a second thought, Draco lunged forward and wrapped Harry in his arms. "I told you, I was going to anchor you, and you're not going to get swept away. You're here. Stay here."

Harry hesitated, then reached up and tentatively clung to Draco in return. After another moment, he took an uneasy breath and let his head fall against Draco's shoulder. "You're warm."

"I - are you cold?"

"No... but Voldemort is. I can feel him... all around me, and through me. And you're warm." Harry released his grip a bit and pulled back, looking Draco in the face. He seemed embarrassed, and apologetic. "I'm sorry... I... I didn't mean -"

Draco cut him off by pulling him back into his embrace. I promised I wouldn't let him go. So I won't. "You don't want You-Know-Who to taint things... to change what you do... so... do you want to finish our dance?" He glanced up at the sky. "We have time."

Harry craned his neck to look at Draco. He seemed as if he were about to argue, but then, he softly wrapped his arms around Draco's back. This time, the feel of Harry's chest pressed against his own brought a totally different feeling to Draco. A twinge of fear, a bit of desperation, and the terrible feeling that he was holding something that he wanted more than anything - and it was about to be torn from him. He needed to say something. Something important. Something that would make everything feel better, or something that could give Harry hope, or at least, make Draco feel better for trying. But nothing came to mind.

What do you say when there's nothing left to say?

So, he said the first thing that came to mind. "When we get back, I'm going to take you to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop."

"Why's that?" Harry asked, his voice soft but curious.

"She has the best scones I've ever tasted. Have you ever tried them?"

"No, I can't say that I have."

Draco forced a smile that he knew Harry couldn't see anyway. "It's a requirement. Everyone has to try them, you know. It's one of those things that everyone has to do at least once."

"Like dancing."

"Yes, like dancing."

"And camping."

Draco let out a choked laugh. "Well, we got plenty of that. Once we get back, I'm never even going to look at the woods again. I'm going to surround myself with plush armchairs, fancy paintings, tapestries, curtains, and warm fireplaces. I'm never going to eat another cold sandwich as long as I live."

Harry chuckled. "Well, if you lock yourself away, how will I ever get a chance to see you?"

"Well, you can join me."

"I think... I wouldn't want to shut myself away. I still love it out here, you know. It's still beautiful. I like feeling free, like there are no walls to contain me."

"Walls can protect you."

"They... won't protect me... from this." He didn't need to elaborate any further.

"Harry -"

"But that's why I have you, right?"

Draco winced. "Of course."

"And you can't stay locked away, because how are we going to have our Quidditch match if you won't come outdoors? We don't have an indoor pitch, you know."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to tolerate the outdoors for temporary situations." Draco sniffed. "But I'm still not eating any more cold sandwiches."

"What did you do with the corned beef sandwiches?"

"I turned them into rocks." He smirked. "Vast improvement in their palatability, if you ask me."

"Too bad you didn't know a spell to turn them into turkey."

"Hmmm... that's what I want. Hot roast turkey. Potatoes. Dressing. And for dessert, crème brûlée."

"I think..."

"Yes?"

"I'd just like another chocolate biscuit. But I ate them all."

Draco froze for a moment as he processed what Harry had just told him, and before he could help himself, he burst out laughing. "You simpleton, Harry. Oh, you..." He wasn't sure if he was laughing, or crying, or somewhere in between.

Conversation drifted from one unimportant thing to the next, but just then, everything was the most important thing in the world. Just being there was the most important thing. Still, Draco couldn't help but notice that as they moved together, Harry slowly became heavier and heavier in his arms. He tried not to think about it, but finally, the inevitable happened.

Harry's grip on Draco went slack, and he sagged to his knees. Draco followed him down, holding him steady so that he wouldn't tip. He cast a nervous glance up at the sky, where the moon was more than half-hidden by the shadow of the earth. He turned back to Harry.

"So this is what it feels like," Harry mused in a vague tone, "to lose yourself."

"You're not going to lose yourself, Harry, because I refuse to lose you!" Draco snapped.

"I can feel it though. It's strange. I feel like I'm becoming translucent, and soon, I won't be any more solid than a ghost." He seemed slightly out of breath as he spoke. "Am I still solid?"

Stunned, Draco grabbed Harry's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Yes, you're solid, you idiot! You're not fading away, and you're not going to!"

Harry frowned, obviously hurt by Draco's tone.

"Harry, I... I didn't mean it like that."

"That's not what's wrong."

Now Draco was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Squeeze my hand again. Harder."

Draco complied, even more confused.

"Strange," Harry said distantly. "I can't really feel you. Well, I can, but I feel you as if my hand had fallen asleep. Like I'm numb somehow. It's really strange. My whole body feels numb."

A whole new wave of fear gripped Draco. Was his plan working at all? Or was he really losing Harry? He tried to feel the connection, tried to sense Harry through it. The connection was still there, like a thread of energy tying them together... but it felt like a thin, weak thread, not something that could hold Harry in place through the flowing current. "Harry, can you feel me? Through the connection?"

Harry's eyes unfocused for a moment, and Draco recognized the expression as a sign that Harry was sensing inwards. "Yes," he said slowly. "You're there, but I can hardly feel you... through what Voldemort is doing." A shadow of fear passed across his face. "You're still there though."

Draco swallowed convulsively. "Can you focus on our connection? Try to hold onto it? Strengthen it from your end? I don't know what else to do."

"I can try, but I don't know how." His eyes unfocused again. After a moment, Draco felt an unmistakable stirring in his chest. He closed his eyes and latched on to the sensation, trying to pour himself into it. The sensation grew steadily for a minute, but then, it seemed to waver off. There was a gasp, and Draco's eyes snapped open.

Harry was teetering unsteadily on his knees, hand clutched to his chest. Before Draco could react, he toppled sideways.

"Harry!" Gripped by a fresh jolt of panic, Draco rolled Harry onto his back. Harry's body felt limp, and if the moon hadn't still been shining in a white crescent above them, Draco would have feared he'd already lost him. "Harry?"

After a nerve-wracking moment, Harry's eyes fluttered open. "I don't think I'll be trying that again," he said lightly.

"Oh, Harry." Draco sat there, feeling utterly helpless. "Do you need anything? Water? Are you in pain? Is there anything I -"

Harry held his hand up, effectively stopping Draco cold. "What I need... is to say something I was supposed to say earlier. And I need you to listen."

The tone of finality in Harry's voice scared Draco more than anything. He reached up and took Harry's outstretched hand. "Harry?"

Harry cast a brief glance at their joined hands, and then spoke. "I never really told you... what I think about you. I think, after all this, you deserve to know."

Draco was struck dumb as he realized what Harry was about to do. He was about to give Draco the final message that he'd intended for him. Dumbledore, Granger, Weasley, and now, it was his turn. The only response Draco could manage was a nod.

Harry gave him a weak smile, but that only worried Draco more. "I hated you, you know, for a long time," Harry said, sounding amused, as bizarre as it seemed. "In some ways, I think I hated you more than Voldemort. Voldemort killed my parents, but he was a name, some distant villain, even after I'd faced him. You though... that was personal. You were always there, insulting my friends, causing hell, playing pranks, meeting me head-to-head."

Between his worry, his panic, and his fear, this wasn't something Draco wanted to hear. "Oh, and this is supposed to make me feel good?" he snapped before he could stop himself.

Harry only smiled again, and Draco added guilt to the other emotions that were attacking him from the inside.

"I wasn't done," Harry continued softly. "But the point is... it was personal. It always was. You've been a significant part of my life, these past five years. How we came to be here doesn't seem to make sense at first, but it does. I... I'm not an introspective person, but facing death does weird things to you, I suppose."

Draco wanted to listen, but at the same time, he wanted to be thinking of anything else than what Harry was saying just then. He fidgeted for a moment under Harry's intense gaze. "Deep thoughts. Yeah. I suppose it would. Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived, Quidditch star, aspiring Auror, and junior philosopher."

"Shut up, Draco," he said, but he didn't sound unhappy or angry. If anything, he seemed amused.

However, that only made Draco feel worse. He hung his head to avoid Harry's laughing eyes. "Sorry. Just an infantile response to serious or difficult topics. Please pardon me while I avoid higher brain function."

"Draco... please..."

"I know, I know, Harry," Draco said in a rush. "I'm listening. I'm trying to listen. Please, go on. I really want to hear this. I need to. I just don't know how to."

"You don't have to do anything," Harry said. "Just... listen. You were always worried about earning power, or influence, or the pride of... well... certain people. I can't tell you if you've earned those things, but I can tell you this: you've earned my respect. You've earned my trust, and my admiration. Nobody would have ever thought it possible, but..."

Harry's voice faded off, and when Draco looked up to see what was wrong, he found Harry looking at him, with that familiar, piercing stare that seemed to reach right through him. "I miss everyone at home. I wish I could see all of them one last time. But if I can't... if this is my last night... I'm glad to be spending it here, with you."

Draco had no idea what to say to something like that. For what seemed like a long time, he sat frozen, held by Harry's eyes. That familiar hot feeling welled up in his chest, and he bit his tongue to stop a traitorous tear from leaking out of his eye.

"There's one more thing," Harry said suddenly.

"What?" Draco quickly blinked the traces of wetness from his eyes. "Whatever you want."

"I... there's just..." Harry hesitated. He was wearing a dreadfully grim expression. "You made a promise to me. A very important promise. I... just wanted to remind you... to keep that promise.

Draco knew, with a horrible sinking feeling, exactly what Harry was talking about. "You... you can't really mean that. How can you be serious about something like that?"

"Draco, how can I not be serious at a time like this!" Harry snapped. As pale as he looked, his voice still held a good measure of force behind it. "Right now, I have to be serious! You said this was a battle. Which is better? Blowing up the ship, or letting the enemy capture, torture, and kill you anyway, all while taking this ship for his own use?"

"I can't hurt you... I can't..." Draco was shaking now, feeling as though he was being torn in two directions by his promise and his inability to hurt his friend, even if it was the best thing.

"It won't hurt," Harry said, his voice soft again. "Draco... I'm going numb. It's not getting any better. I'd probably barely feel it if you were to cut me right now."

Draco couldn't believe he was hearing this. No, he could believe it, but he couldn't handle it. "Why did I even suggest this stupid plan?" he cried. "It was just a shot in the dark, and now, look at what's happening! You should have tried to make it to Hogwarts! Maybe Snape could have helped you! At least you would have seen Granger and Weasley! Maybe -"

"And maybe I'd be stuck in the middle of the woods, dying alone, without a chance in hell of surviving." Harry looked up at him sympathetically. "You asked me once... if I was afraid of death."

The conversation came back to Draco with striking clarity. "I remember. You said... you didn't think so."

"That's right. And do you remember what I said my biggest fear was?"

"Failing," Draco choked out.

"And...?"

Draco couldn't speak above a whisper. "Being alone."

"I'm not alone, am I?"

"No."

"And I won't fail... because you won't let me fail... will you?"

Draco stared at Harry until he couldn't look any more. His head fell forward. "No. I won't."

"Thank you," Harry whispered back.

It didn't feel like something Harry should be thanking him for. For helping him to commit suicide, as a preferable option to letting Voldemort kill him. It was twisted, backwards, and completely fucked up. It was unbelievable, and unthinkable.

Harry was still alive. The plan could still work. On impulse, Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's hand, and gave it a sharp squeeze. When the expected reply squeeze never came, Draco's heart missed a beat. He looked up; Harry's eyes were closed. "Harry!" He shook Harry by the shoulder. "Harry, open your eyes!"

Harry's eyes slowly opened. "I'm sorry... I feel a bit sleepy."

Draco shook his head. "Oh no. You're not falling asleep. Not now."

"I'm trying. Just... feel like I'm fading. It's a bit like passing out." His voice was thin, like it was fading along with him.

"Don't. Come on, Harry. Just hold on." He glanced up at the moon. There was only a slender crescent of white remaining. "Hold on to me. Don't quit now. Give my hand a squeeze back."

"Okay... but I need you to hold my hand first."

Draco looked down at their clasped hands, and for the first time since the sun had set, he felt his emotions crack. Struggling to control the tears that were now spilling over, all he could say was, "Okay."

"I'm not afraid, Draco."

"Gryffindor bravery," Draco said, but the attempted joke only made the tears run hotter.

"You're brave too, Draco. Not just a Gryffindor thing. You are, too."

"I learned from the best."

Harry gave a weak smile, and Draco couldn't look anymore. He closed his eyes, and turned his head to the side. In his chest, he could feel his connection with Harry fluctuate. Suddenly fearful, he balled his free hand into a tight fist and tried to focus fully on the link, but he didn't even really understand what he was supposed to do. He could feel the link as clearly as he could feel his fingernails biting sharply into the palm of his hand, but it was a strange, intangible thing. It wasn't something he could hold and manipulate; it was just there, and somehow, he was supposed to use it to save Harry.

Draco felt for the link again, almost hurling his consciousness into it this time, trying to reach through it, grab Harry, and hook their energies together so tightly that Voldemort could never take him. For a moment, the connection seemed to strengthen, like a hot cord running through his chest. For that moment, Harry's hand seemed to grip tighter within his own, but then, the sensation faded again. The effort left him dizzy, like he had lost a piece of himself through it, and when he opened his eyes, everything looked fuzzy.

"I felt that," Harry said. "It wasn't strong, but it was you. Felt good."

"I'll try again!" Draco said in a rush.

Harry's eyes closed. "It's okay, Draco. Don't worry... it doesn't hurt."

"Harry..."

"I've said... what I need... to say. It's okay... Draco."

Draco looked at Harry's face, and a desperate sense of urgency swept over him. "But I haven't said what I needed to say. I have something I need to tell you, too, Harry." He took a deep breath.

"Listen... when this all started out, I was scared of you. Then I respected you. But then, I started caring about you. Maybe it was everything you said. Maybe it was the way you just seemed to know things. Maybe it was the fact that every time I pushed you, you pushed back. And eventually... I think we pushed ourselves right over the edge."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. He had to say this. He'd been feeling it stronger and stronger, and if he didn't say it now, he might never get the chance. Most importantly, he felt ready to admit it to himself, which was almost harder than admitting it to Harry. Now was the time. "Harry... somewhere along the way... I think I fell in love with you."

The shock of hearing the words come out of his own mouth was enough to make his heart jump into his throat, but an instant later, he realized that Harry hadn't reacted. Not at all. Draco opened his eyes again. "Harry?"

Harry lay perfectly still. The tiny splinter of silver-white moon hanging overhead cast even less light than the dark purple fire, and Harry's face was all faint outlines and indigo shadows. Even the glint off his glasses was dim. In a panic, Draco snatched Harry's glasses off his face and leaned over his prostrate form. "Harry, look at me! Damn it, Harry, not now! Please, not now!"

But Harry's eyes didn't open. Not that Draco would have been able to see the disconcertingly bright green of Harry's irises in such low light, but he imagined he could have, if Harry would just open his eyes. The eclipse wasn't complete. And the tenuous link between them was still vibrating in Draco's chest. Harry must still be alive.

Draco laid a hand on Harry's chest. He could feel the rise and fall of Harry's breathing, and the faint heartbeat. But it was fading. Draco threw his head back, and it was all he could do not to howl in anguish. It was his nightmare coming true. Harry was fading away in front of him, and there wasn't a thing he could do. After everything he'd done, he couldn't believe that Harry could just slip through his fingers like this, and he couldn't hold him. In a flash, he heard Wormtail's words in his head.

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

Even thinking of Wormtail at a time like this infuriated Draco. He needed to focus on Harry, not that failed excuse for a Death Eater. He still didn't understand why Wormtail had spoken to him at all. What sort of purpose did it serve the rat? His only need was to ensure that Harry survived, so why on earth would he try to prompt Draco's emotions? What good did the warning do, when Harry was lying there, apparently slipping through his fingers, dying as he did?

He'd only just admitted to himself what he was feeling for the boy lying unaware in front of him. Remembering what Harry had murmured in his sleep, he was sure that Harry felt the same thing, somewhere, buried away from his waking thoughts. Draco had finally found something he cared about more than himself, and he couldn't lose Harry now! He'd sworn that he'd get Harry home, no matter what it took, but what could he do? If he could do anything to stop this horrible progression, he would.

Draco's hand brushed over the hilt of his dagger on his belt - his promise to Harry. He pulled out the dagger and held it gingerly, as though it would turn and bite him at any second. In the fading light and the purple shadows, it looked even more deadly. He glanced up at the moon, then back down at the face of his friend. Harry had asked him to do it, if it looked like the Dark Lord was going to win. Draco had promised. But he couldn't do such a thing, even if he was sure that Harry would feel no pain. Whereas once, he had gloated that he would kill Potter with this very blade if he had the chance, now he was being asked to kill Harry, and the mere thought made him retch. It was impossible. He'd just as soon take his own life.

Then, something clicked in Draco's head.

Would you die for him?

It felt like a kick to the chest as Draco realized that he'd been sitting on the answer the whole time, and hadn't seen it. Breathless from the thought, Draco remembered the bizarre feeling he'd experienced when he'd tried to reach through the connection and pull Harry back. That moment of dizziness, and feeling like he'd lost some of himself.

He wasn't supposed to hold Harry back.

He was supposed to give himself.

More euphoric than scared, Draco reached down and took both of Harry's hands in his. His own life wasn't as important. He would have no future when he got back, especially if he returned without Harry. He could let go... for Harry. He could let go.

Draco closed his eyes and sought out that thread of a connection within himself. Tentatively, as if putting his foot into the frigid water of a moving river, Draco stretched himself out along the connection. Instead of a hollow passage, or a stagnate thread of energy, it felt like a suction now, pulling him through with incredible ease.

His eyes snapped open, and he gasped for breath, feeling that same dizziness as he had before, only much stronger. Even the world around him seemed blurry and not quite solid. This time, he was sure he'd lost some of himself through the connection, and he was positive that he would have lost the rest of himself if he hadn't pulled back right away. It was so simple. All he had to do was to let go.

This will work. Merlin, this will work. The only thing holding me back was the fact that I couldn't admit it to myself. I needed to love him to save him, and until I could admit it, I was held back. And love... is being willing to make that ultimate sacrifice. And... I can do this.

Still feeling lightheaded from what had happened a moment ago, everything seemed slightly surreal to Draco as he bent over, close to Harry's face. "I told you," he said softly, "whatever it takes. I promised."

And then, Draco leaned the rest of the way down and closed the gap between his lips and Harry's. Harry's lips were unresponsive beneath his, soft but cool, and Draco felt the link between them falter. He cupped Harry's cheek with his hand, and whispered again, "Whatever it takes."

Draco felt no fear as he closed his eyes. The link between them was thinning, but it was still open. All Draco needed to do was to pass through it.

His last coherent thought as his life slipped away from his body was that he wished, just once, he could have felt Harry kissing him back.

Overhead, the moon glowed blood red.

*********

It was Sunday, the twenty-ninth of September, and Hermione had retreated to the lake with Ron for a quiet place to study. Or at least, that's what she'd told everyone. She was Hermione Granger. Of course, she'd want some quiet time to study. Nobody bothered to comment about how willing Ron was to accompany her, or the fact that she hadn't taken her books.

In truth, she'd needed a break from the endless looks of pity her housemates gave her every time she caught them looking. She knew Ron was feeling the same discomfort. The only people who understood, the only people with whom they could share the quiet company they needed, were Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Today, however, their friends had somehow sensed her need to retreat with Ron. Nobody but she and Ron could really understand the depth of the loss - the size of the hole created by Harry's absence - and nobody was brash enough to try.

Two days ago, in the wee hours of the morning, the moon had been swallowed by the earth's shadow, glowing a ghastly shade of copper-red over the landscape. Professor Sinistra, who had originally planned a special night class with all students in fifth year and up for the viewing of the rare event, had cancelled out of consideration for the extenuating circumstances. It was just as well. Hermione would have skipped class anyway. Instead, she had watched the whole thing from the window of the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower. Nobody was asleep in either of the sixth years' dormitories, and the boys had invited her in so that she could stay with Ron. Nothing was said about the rules and regulations. Some things, she knew, were just more important than the rules.

And some things, she knew, just couldn't be stopped. Not all the magic in the world could alter the course of the moon in the sky. Not all the books and knowledge in the world could offer a solution. Nothing she could do to save her friend, who was somewhere out there, alone.

Well, not alone. He was with Draco Malfoy, which was almost worse.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and turned away from the lake. It was an awful slate grey beneath the dull, cloudy sky of late September, and it was scattered with dead leaves. The first casualties of the oncoming autumn.

Not the first, she thought bitterly, although she still wanted to cling to hope.

The morning after the eclipse, she'd been summoned, with Ron, to the Headmaster's office. She hadn't wanted to hear anything he was going to say. When he told her that he was almost certain Harry was still alive, she didn't know whether to collapse in relief, or to scream at him for trying to give her false hope. He'd said that if Harry had died - if Voldemort had gained such power - he would have known, and therefore, Harry was still alive.

Hermione wanted to believe it, and so she did. Still, there had been no sign of Harry, or Malfoy, in over three weeks. Every day, she had looked out across the grounds at the forest to the North, grateful that the dangers of the Forbidden Forest lay to the South. She scanned dutifully for any sign of the familiar untidy black hair, the red jumper, or even the unmistakable white-blond hair of the bastard who'd kidnapped Harry in the first place.

But there had been nothing.

Even though she knew there would be nothing again today, she had to look.

She stared off blankly into the shady leaves of the forest, not seeing the small blotch of red, and the flash of white-blond standing out in stark contrast to the darker background. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't just seeing the product of her imagination. In disbelief, she staggered to her feet. "Ron..."

"What, 'Mione?"

"Ron, look!"

She didn't even look back to see if Ron was following. Hermione took off running at a dead sprint across the grounds, eyes fixed on the form moving towards her from the forest. "HARRY! OH, HARRY!"

She was so elated with the thought of her friend alive and well and returning to her that she was halfway to him before she realized something was wrong. Very wrong. She had seen Harry's red jumper, and the light patch of Malfoy's familiar hair, but there was only one shape moving towards her. She stopped dead in her tracks, and barely noticed as Ron collided with her from behind. "Harry?"

Harry wasn't even looking at her. He was staring at the ground in front of him as he walked, and even from there, she could see his face twisted in an expression of pain. His footsteps were slow but steady, almost trance-like, and belied the apparent weight of the burden he carried. Cradled in his arms was the limp body of Draco Malfoy, wrapped up to the shoulders in a blue cloak. One of his arms had fallen out of the cloak and was dangling loosely, and his head was tilted backwards, face dreadfully pale.

Harry continued his solitary march towards them, and as he approached, Hermione could see the rips in his clothes, the dirt on his face, and the sheer exhaustion in every movement of his body. He didn't show any sign that he noticed them until he finally drew up in front of them. He looked up.

Behind his glasses, his green eyes were bloodshot, as if he'd been crying for hours, or perhaps for days. Two days, Hermione realized with a shock. "Harry...?"

He didn't speak, but he looked from her, to Ron, and then down at Malfoy's face. His eyes watered up as she watched, and a single tear escaped down his check. Then, without a word, he resumed his slow walk towards the castle under the grey September sky. For a long moment, Hermione watched him go, too stunned to move. The feel of the first raindrop on her face brought her back just as Ron touched her arm and motioned for them to follow Harry. With a grim nod, she began walking towards the castle.

*********

Summer has come and passed.
The innocent can never last.
Wake me up when September ends.

Like my fathers come to pass,
Seven years has gone so fast.
Wake me up when September ends.

Here comes the rain again,
Falling from the stars.
Drenched in my pain again,
Becoming who we are.

As my memory rests,
But never forgets what I lost,
Wake me up when September ends.

(~Green Day)

*********