Bound

Two o'clock came and the swollen moon sank lower over the silent roof of the astronomy tower. The tower's magnifying spell amplified the moon's light, and washed it into even the tiniest crevices between the stones. The railing around the tower cast a dramatic shadow onto the floor below. The view was breathtaking, even supernatural. It didn't become outright magical, however, until the view of black shadow against silver stones rippled, and a boy stepped out of nothingness.

He was large and rather square looking, wearing a heavy winter cloak over orange pyjamas. He surveyed the empty tower with narrowed eyes, and then jerked his chin over his shoulder.

"All clear," he grunted. A quiet thud sounded from the empty space behind him.

The air wavered uncertainly for a moment, until a beefy hand appeared and swiped at something in the air above it. The invisibility cloak fell to the ground, revealing Gregory Goyle, who cradled a much smaller boy in his arms and looked about as ridiculous as a gorilla holding a kitten.

"We're early," he said.

Crabbe nodded irritably. "I know. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be here when *he* comes."

Goyle tried to mask his look of admiration. Crabbe was smart - maybe not as smart as Draco, but close. Next to Draco, nobody was better at coming up with these plans.

"What should I do with him?" Goyle asked.

"Anything. Put him on the ground, I don't care."

Goyle knelt, and carefully laid the other boy on the ground. "Sorry, Draco," he grunted.

Draco just glared up at him with the hatred usually reserved for Granger or Weasley burning in his eyes.

Goyle awkwardly patted Draco's shoulder and stood, wiping his hands on his pyjamas. "Let's go," he said. "It's creepy up here."

"All right," Crabbe said, and started for the steps.

Goyle began a step after him, but hesitated. "Do you think we should bring the cloak?"

"Why bother? If we're lucky, Potter will come up looking for it."

Goyle chuckled appreciatively. "I'd like to see Potter's face when he shows up."

"Yeah. Come on."

The two fled down the stairs, leaving Draco behind them, silent and immobilized by the full Body-Bind.

- - - - -

He'd dreamt that he stood on a sailing ship, watching the sea below, when tanned arms wrapped around him from behind. He leaned back into the sturdy chest, and rested his hand on a lean forearm.

Warm lips grazed his ear, dark hair tickled his temple, and an achingly familiar voice whispered, "What do you see out there?"

Draco turned in the embrace, but all thought of a reply drowned in his throat when he met those too-green eyes.

"Nothing really," he managed.

Harry just smiled and pulled Draco closer. That's when Draco realized he was dreaming. Harry Potter would never smile like that in the waking world. Still, he couldn't resist burrowing into the warm embrace, and pressing his forehead against Harry's shoulder. Harry's fingers smoothed the bare skin of Draco's back. Draco's eyes popped open and he stared down at himself, realizing that he was naked.

He tried to pull away, but Harry grinned and caught his wrist. Harry tugged him close, and their faces brushed next to each other. Draco wondered if Harry would try to kiss him. His eyes fluttered closed and he nervously pressed his lips together, already awaiting that brush of contact.

A rough hand slammed into his shoulder, shaking him awake, at the same time another clapped over his mouth. Draco opened his eyes to see Crabbe and Goyle towering over him.

"Sweet dreams, Draco?" Crabbe sneered.

Draco spent a precious second blinking, confused, but then instinct took over and he bit the hand that covered his mouth. Blood welled up against his teeth, splashing warm and rich against his tongue. He gagged, then choked as Crabbe's fist pounded into his face. Goyle joined in on the attack, and fists slammed into him from all sides it seemed. Draco squirmed against the bed sheets tangling his arms and legs, trying to shield himself from the blows. Finally, he freed a leg and kicked savagely at the closest attacker. His bare foot slammed into Goyle's midsection, but the solid boy barely seemed to notice.

His fist crunched into the bridge of Draco's nose, and Draco sagged against the pillow, trying not to pass out.

Then Crabbe grunted, "Petrificus Totalis!"

Draco's arms snapped stiffly to his sides and his legs locked together. He fell heavily against the mattress, unable even to look at his offenders. They kept up the beating for another few minutes, and then the rain of fists fell away. Draco trembled against the mattress, wet with blood and tears.

"My father will kill you," he tried to say, but couldn't make his frozen tongue manage the words.

Crabbe and Goyle conversed quietly in harsh whispers. Draco heard the words,

"Are you sure?" and "Father said," but could make out no more. Then Crabbe ripped away the bed sheets, and scooped him up.

Draco hoped the body-binding curse made him hard to carry.

Now, he lay on the stone floor of the astronomy tower, staring up at the stars.

It was Snape's fault, really. Snape who'd convinced him to lie to his father, to let him think Dumbledore's forces numbered just a few dozen less then they actually did. Draco couldn't see why not to do it - the Death Eaters outnumbered them two to one, anyway. And if Dumbledore thought there was some hope, he might not send Harry into battle.

But Malfoys weren't supposed to care whether or not Harry Potter died bravely and foolishly on a battlefield, so Draco shied away from the thought. Instead, he thought of Snape, and how he was probably lying in his comfortable bed right now, without a thought in the world as to Draco's welfare. Stupid Snape.

It was a cold night, and his thin pyjamas offered little protection against the wind. Draco ground his fingertips into the floor, noticing that they could wriggle a little, from the third knuckle down. Crabbe never was good at curses. Though a lot of good finger wriggling would do Draco when Voldemort showed up. He scanned the sky nervously, wondering how The Dark Lord would arrive.

Maybe he'd show up on a broomstick, or even a dragon. That was Lord Voldemort's style. Draco wondered if his father would come with The Dark Lord. He hoped not. He didn't want his father's expression telling him he'd failed again. This time, his punishment would be worse than even his father could conceive.

Draco inhaled slowly, refusing to release the tears building up inside him. He'd die like a man, not like a sniveling boy. Maybe Dumbledore would make him a martyr afterwards. Probably not, though. Potter was more of the martyring type.

Fluttering wings interrupted the stillness of the night, and a dark shadow passed over him. Draco's heart began to drum inside his chest. He searched the sky for something, maybe a giant bird, but it was only his eagle owl that drifted down to land beside him.

"Scylla," he whispered. "It's only you."

His owl cocked its head curiously, and hopped closer to him. It retrieved a letter from the pouch tied around its leg, and propped it up so Draco could read it.

Draco, darling ~

He's made me promise not to interfere. So sorry.

Love, Mother.

"Great!" Draco snapped. "This is just great!" Part of him noticed that he could now move his mouth, but the rest was too busy being outraged. She'd get no birthday present if he survived, that was damned sure.

Draco closed his eyes, and took no notice when Scylla flew away. Silently, he pressed his lips together and waited to die.

But before it happened, the trap door banged open and Pansy Parkinson rushed to embrace him in a cloud of heaving breasts and bad perfume.

"Draco!" she cried. "How could you have done it? You must have known he'd find out, he always does!" She pulled back a little, and stared down at him with watery blue eyes. "You were going to take me to the Valentine's Day dance, Draco. You promised."

"Pansy, there are more important things to think about right now!"

She frowned prettily, and Draco bit back a sigh. Carefully lowering his tone, he said sweetly, "We can still go to the dance if you help me out of here, Pansy.

Did you bring your wand?"

She nodded, and hesitantly pulled it from the pocket of her silky black robe. Twirling it between her fingers, she said softly, "I suppose I should help you."

"Damn right you should!" Draco snapped, before remembering that he was supposed to play the gentle boyfriend.

Pansy stroked his forehead with the tip of her wand, her eyes fixed skyward, obviously thinking. Finally, she shook her head, and let her fingers trail away from his hair.

"Draco, I can't. You know how it is."

He did.

Pansy curled her legs on the floor, exposing rather a lot more thigh than Draco wanted to see while petrified on the astronomy tower floor awaiting certain death.

"Why did you have to lie to him, Draco?" Pansy said. "Everything was so perfect."

"Perfect," Draco said beneath his breath. "I can tell you about 'perfect,' Pansy. Do you know that the Death Eaters meet every Thursday night at my house? Well last month, I decided to listen in on them."

"You didn't!"

"I did." He smiled a little to think of his bravery, but the smile quickly turned into a frown. "They crawl on the ground before him like dogs. All of them. Even Father. Is that what we're fighting for - the chance to humiliate ourselves in front of him? If that's the kind of life we'll get with Voldemort, I'll take my chances with the mudbloods."

Pansy's eyes looked haunted, but Draco knew he hadn't budged her at all. She'd never spied Lord Voldemort's red eyes, or heard a Muggle begging to die while his wife and children watched his torture. Pansy had visions of a clear and happy future, where wizards ruled Muggles kindly but firmly, like loving pet owners.

Draco would give anything to still think like that.

Pansy sighed, and shot a fearful glance up at the sky. "I'd better go," she whispered.

She kissed his forehead, and was gone, with only the faintest cloud of perfume marking her place. Draco sighed, feeling more alone than he ever had in his entire life.

The stars were a cold comfort above him. Absent-mindedly, he picked out the constellations he remembered from his childhood. The dragon. The hunter. The bear. He remembered the stories his father had told him, that every language in the world had the same name for Capricorn, and that the stars themselves were only memories of what had been.

They'd stood on the lawn of Malfoy Manor for hours one night, Father's hand a warm pressure on Draco's shoulder as he explained how to work a peer-a-scope, what a comet was. Father's voice was warm when he talked about stars, not like when he spoke about politics and the importance of being a Malfoy. Once upon a time, Draco had realized, there'd been a younger Lucius Malfoy, who loved astronomy the same way Draco loved potions. Would they be friends, he wondered, if he met his father at sixteen? Or would his father disapprove of him at any age?

A single tear coursed down his cheek, and he let it fall. It warmed his skin for an instant, but the air was colder than ever against it.

Someone scrabbled at the trap door to the astronomy tower, and Draco sighed, turning his head to meet the intruder. "What now?" he exploded, thinking he'd see Pansy again.

But Harry Potter stepped awkwardly onto the roof, watching Draco the way he might watch a tethered dragon. "Hello, Malfoy."

If the Dark Lord did arrive, Draco hoped he'd come that very instant. It was surely better to die than to lie on the ground immobilized in front of The Boy Who Lived. But of course, Voldemort was taking his sweet time. Draco hoped that Harry would attribute the redness in his cheeks to the cold air.

"Hello, Potter. I was wondering if I'd get to see your ugly scar again before I died."

Anger flashed like green lightning in his eyes. "I could just leave you here, Malfoy."

"You could," Draco said, "but you won't. You're too damned predictable, Potter."

He lifted his chin the best he could, and said, "What are you doing up here, anyway?"

"Someone woke me up and shoved this into my hand." Harry pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "By the time I found my glasses, though, they were gone."

Draco squinted, trying to make out the faded purple writing on the paper. "What's it say about me?"

"About you? Nothing. It says Goyle stole my invisibility cloak." Harry shrugged.

"I ran into Pansy on my way up here. She told me about you." Harry looked away from Draco, as though embarrassed, and spied his invisibility cloak lying where Goyle had left it. Harry retrieved, and twirled it around his shoulders.

Draco groaned. "Potter, if there was ever a time I didn't want to see your disembodied head, this is it."

"You're not in a position to protest, Malfoy." Harry said automatically. Nevertheless, the rest of him reappeared, and he stood staring awkwardly down at Draco. "Did you really lie to your father?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Draco snapped. "Potter, if you haven't noticed, I'm in a bit of a bind here."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest. "I could always leave," he said, in a tone of voice that said Draco shouldn't try him.

"What type of Gryffindor are you?"

"A better one than you'd make, Mal-"

"POTTER, SHUT UP!" Surprised, Harry did just that. "Did you hear that?" Draco whispered frantically.

"I didn't hear anything." Then Harry froze. From the stairway beneath the trap door, it came again, a scuffing loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Hide," Draco said.

Harry stared at him as if he'd gone daft. "What?"

"Potter, whoever sent you that note wanted you to come up here. Don't you see? Voldemort's coming! For God's sake, get under the cloak!"

Harry started to lift the invisibility cloak over his head, but then froze. That stubborn Gryffindor expression came onto his face, the one Draco remembered seeing every time the other boy did something heroic and stupid. "I'm not leaving you here to -"

"Do it!"

Some of his desperation must have reached his voice, for Harry did as he was told. The Gryffindor blinked out of sight, almost at the same moment the trap door swung open. Draco held his breath, waiting to see pale, corpse-like skin and glowing red eyes.

Instead, a tall, redheaded young man stepped through the trap door and stared down at Draco over the tops of his horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, well, well," he said. "It looks like a student is out after hours. Tell me, Malfoy, what should I do with you?"

Draco's jaw dropped. Beside him, Harry gasped, and Draco spoke quickly to mask the sound. "Weasley?" he choked. "You . . . you graduated!" Draco had been at the ceremony himself, cheering on the handful of Slytherins who'd passed.

Percy Weasley straightened, and gave Draco a superior smile. "First in my class," he said. "You should have followed my example, Malfoy; then you might not be in so much trouble."

He lifted his wand from his side, and pointed it towards Draco. Even from this distance, Draco could clearly see the skull and snake-tongue stamped into his forearm.

"I knew Voldemort was getting desperate, but I never thought he'd take on a Weasley," Draco said. "What did you do, offer him your first eight children?"

"Laugh all you want, Malfoy. It seems our positions are reversed. Dumbledore will find your body floating in the lake, and I? I will be Minister of Magic during our Lord's reign."

"You're second in line, Weasley," Draco said. "Voldemort offered that job to my father ages ago."

A look of doubt flickered across Weasley's face, but he chased it away quickly. "Our Lord is not pleased with your father for repeating your lies, Malfoy."

Draco glared up at him. "You're a fool if you believe a Weasley will ever beat a Malfoy at anything. Now if you're going to kill me, will you please hurry up with it? Your freckles are making my head spin."

Weasley smiled wickedly. "It will be my pleasure."

He lifted his wand, but before he could speak, Harry Potter jumped out the air behind him, wand brandished like a sword.

"Stupify!" he shouted, and Percy dropped to the ground.

Draco released a breath he didn't know he'd held. "It took you long enough, Potter."

Harry abruptly turned red. "I,um,caughtmywandonmybelt," he mumbled.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"I caught my wand. On my belt. For God's sake, Malfoy, it's not funny!"

Draco kept laughing, a few tears of relief actually streaming down his cheeks.

"It would be if you could see your face," he said. "Honestly, Potter, who taught you how to be a hero? Did you take a correspondence course?"

"Well I didn't see you helping, Malfoy!"

In response, Draco let his eyes wander down over his own body. Harry had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Oh. Yeah. Finite Incantem," he said, and Draco's entire body relaxed with a prickly pins and needles sensation.

"Damnit, Potter, I'd hate to be Weasley over there."

"So would I." Harry glanced at Weasley, and for a second, his brilliant eyes fell distant, thoughtful and sad. Then he shook his head to clear it, and focused his gaze back on Draco. "Can you walk?"

Draco had been trying to rise to his feet, but now he stopped, and did his best to look extremely uncomfortable. "No," he said. "Definitely not. Help me out, would you?"

Potter frowned, then shrugged and held out his hand. Draco looked at it a second before reaching. Their fingers closed around each other, and Draco's stomach quivered at the contact. Harry hauled him to his feet, and Draco held on a second longer than necessary. Harry's hands were smaller than his, but stronger. Draco draped his arm around Potter's shoulders, and the Gryffindor obliged by wrapping an arm around his waist. Together, they started towards the stairs to the castle, Draco moving with a rather exaggerated limp, and frequently stopping to lean against Harry.

"I can't believe Percy's a Death Eater," Harry said as they started to descent. "Ron will be devastated."

Draco thought up a cutting reply, but looked into Potter's face and decided not to say it. "You never can tell what some people will do," he said. Not up to his usual standards, but it was hard thinking up a reply when those green eyes were sparkling so concernedly, and that arm was warm around his waist.

Harry stopped, looking thoughtful. "No," he said. "I guess you can't." He glanced up at Draco, a little shyly, and offered him a smile.

And Draco Malfoy's world fell apart.