Artful Facade

Chapter 6: Free Fall

I researched the moment because I needed to know and I needed to know because I wanted to know and I need what I want and I want what I need and that's how I've always been.

I was curious, that was all. I wanted to know what happened in the moment when we did the Killing Curse together and suddenly we were one. And I don’t mean that in a trashy novel sort of way, where the torn lovers finally get their hands on each other and become “one” and then experience all sorts of astonishingly perfect moments of truth. We were the same, two minds in one, thoughts wrapping themselves together, when we both whispered Avada Kedavra at the same moment.

I never thought I'd open my mind so willingly to Harry Potter. A couple of years ago, I wouldn't have dreamt of it. I was in an endless competition with the hero of Hogwarts, and I would never have thrown away everything just to do a silly spell. Images and dreams, truths that sound like lies and lies that sound like truths… I was sure that I'd never reveal all that to Harry. It would be like losing to him.

I guess I stopped caring about losing when the geese fell out of the sky. Any control I might have had, it's all gone. Harry Potter suddenly seems very different. Everything suddenly seems very different. When people speak to me it sounds awkward, as if they’re swallowing their words halfway. When people look at me, it always seems they’re looking at a point right past my eyes. After it happened I tried to talk to Crabbe and Goyle, but my own voice sounded strangled and almost comical.

We watched the birds die together. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more scared. I told myself for so long that I wasn’t afraid of power, that you have to do whatever it takes to achieve it. So why was it that when I held all that power in my hands, I'd never felt weaker? I lose myself in too much power, it overwhelms my senses.

It isn't like that with Harry. He glows with it, the newfound power. His steps become more assured, his gaze becomes more steady. Before, when he flew in the sky he always looked as if he knew the sky owned him. Now he flies as though he owns the sky. I think. Perhaps not. Perhaps I’m just making things up, perhaps I watch him too closely. I always was too concerned with him, wanting the best for him, wanting the worst for him, wanting anything but normalcy for Harry Potter.

Because I thought I was destined for great things and I knew Harry was and so I thought, why make things easy for the idiot? But now I think that maybe I’m wrong, maybe it was just supposed to be Harry who did great and fearsome things, and maybe I was supposed to be left behind, cast aside in the dust while Harry went forth and changed the world and changed me without ever asking if that was what I wanted.

I’m afraid of that. Harry Potter is not better than me. I thought maybe, if we whispered the spell together, if our minds became one…

I want to steal his greatness.

I hope there’s some left.

~~~

When the sun collapsed around them they closed their eyes and pretended not to notice. Harry was crying.

Draco could feel Harry’s tears sliding down his own cheek, a shocking sensation that distracted him from their kiss. He didn’t think that was fair. If Harry must cry, then Harry should be the one scalded by the tears, not Draco. He felt one of Harry’s tears fall into his eye and he winced.

He moved Harry away, not roughly but firmly. Then Draco wiped Harry’s tears off of his own cheek with the back of his arm.

“Sorry,” muttered Harry. He was too confused to worry about the fact that he was apologizing to Draco Malfoy, too confused to worry about anything other than that his mind was whirling, that his heart was pounding, and that he was crying.

Draco looked at him. He appeared almost annoyed but he sighed heavily and reached out again, his hand closing upon Harry’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, his eyes looking at anything but Harry. “This is no time for tears.”

“We did it, Draco.”

“Yes. Exactly. That‘s good.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the dizzying ground below. In his mind he saw the bodies of the two geese, feathers bloodied from the fall, bodies mangled, the dying reflection of green light hidden in their eyes…

“Stop that!” Draco cried. “Stop looking at the ground. The ground doesn’t matter, remember? This is what matters, this simplicity, the open-ended- Honestly, this is no time for one of my eloquent speeches, Potter. Just look up, will you?”

Harry paid him no mind. He was staring at the ground. “I think I can see them, Draco,” he muttered into Draco’s ear. “I think I can see their bodies.”

“Stop being an idiot. Look up.” Draco grabbed Harry’s chin and forced it up. Harry focused on the sky and Draco could see white pinpoints of light reflected in his eyes. “You see,” he said, when Harry was silent. “That simplicity never left. You didn’t disrupt the sky. The geese are gone and this place is ours again. Remember that. This is a kingdom and we rule it.”

“All of it?” Harry’s voice was a breath slipping through Draco’s hair.

“All of it.”

“The stars are still there,” Harry said, almost dreamily. “I wasn’t sure they would be.”

“What, did you think they‘d disappear?” Draco asked with a smirk. His eyes widened as Harry looked away. “You did, didn’t you?”

“It’s not that I thought they’d disappear,” Harry said very quickly, blushing. “They’re just… so still, Draco. They haven’t moved, not even after everything that happened. They’re just staring down at us, they don’t even blink at an act of so much destruction. I just thought-”

“That God himself would strike you down? Did you think that the seas would turn red, the sky would turn black, that hell would swallow you up? Just because you killed a bird, you think the Apocalypse is going to pay you a personal visit? Potter, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“How do you know? Perhaps…perhaps it does.”

“Modest as always, Potter.”

“It’s not like that. Sometimes I just feel like if I take one wrong step, if I mess up or change or go the wrong way… Maybe the world would end Draco. For me, at least.”

“The world ends for everybody one day, hero or killer. The stars end for no one.”

Harry looked away. “I’m just glad that they’re still there, that’s all. Okay?”

“All right,” said Draco, feeling too emotionally drained to argue. “I’ll leave you with your heroic illusions. See how long they last on the ground.”

“We should be getting back,” Harry muttered reluctantly. “I don’t want the others to worry.”

“They haven’t noticed that you’re missing from bed night after night?”

“I leave after they’re asleep, usually. And only for a few hours.”

“Last week,” Draco said languidly, “you fell asleep in the classroom and didn’t wake up until dawn.”

Morning light, dancing over Harry’s features as he slept in a knobby old school chair. Spring light dotting his features with silver. Draco shivered.

“I know,” Harry said, oblivious. “I got back before Ron woke up. They know though, I think, that there’s something… They see me falling asleep in class, or notice the way I blank out when they’re talking to me. They’re not stupid, Draco, not like Crabbe and Goyle are. I have to be careful around them.”

“And me,” said Draco, ignoring the insult to Crabbe and Goyle. “Do you have to be careful around me too? What secrets are you hiding from me, Harry Potter?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Draco looked so smug that for a moment Harry wanted to knock him off his broom and send him falling to the earth.

Instead he gritted his teeth and began to spiral downward toward that earth, where the blackness of the sky was more apparent than ever. Harry wondered why the starlight couldn’t reach the ground.

He waited for Draco to land. Draco seemed to be taking his time, skating around clouds and exuberant winds carelessly, an empty expression on his face. Finally he landed next to Harry.

“You go inside first,” Draco said to Harry. “I wouldn’t be caught dead entering the Great Hall with you.”

“I was going to fly up to my room but…Fine with me. If you‘d prefer to wait here in the cold, I‘ll go first.” Harry began to walk towards the dotted yellow candlelight of Hogwarts. “See you, Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Draco called after Harry before he could stop himself. Shocked at how pitiful he sounded, Draco turned his face and began to walk away quickly. It was too late. Harry had turned around. His steps matched Draco’s and he caught up to him. Harry took Draco’s wrist in his hand and pulled him around so that they were facing each other.

They stared. Then Harry let Draco’s wrist drop and his hand fell to his side.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry quietly.

“In the sky,” Draco began, and his voice faltered. Harry nodded for him to continue. “In the sky, you…Oh, this is pathetic.”

Harry just looked at him.

“You called me Draco,” Draco said, a barely noticeable emphasis placed on his own name, as if it didn‘t sound quite right to him. “Before.”

Harry looked surprised. “Did I?”

“In the sky.” He clung to those words, repeating them in his head like a mantra. “Several times.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Yeah. I did, I guess. It doesn‘t matter, does it?” He felt Draco’s eyes upon him, demanding more of an explanation. “That was different, I s’pose. Er. I mean, we weren’t here, were we? We were in the sky.”

Draco couldn’t put into words why this affected him. Perhaps it wasn’t just that Harry had said his name, it was the way he had said it. Only that didn’t make any sense. How had Harry said his name? Draco couldn’t place it. Now that his feet were firmly on the ground, the escapades in the sky seemed nothing but a strange dream that had never really ended, just as it had never really begun.

“But we’re back on the ground now,” Harry went on. “I think what you said last year was true… In the sky we are equals. No, we’re more than equals. We’re…It’s almost as if we’re the same thing. Sort of like when we did the spell together.” Harry did not say the name of the spell. Draco knew. By unspoken agreement, they rarely spoke of that incident when their minds and thoughts had seemed one. “We’re the same person and we’re not our surnames. You’re called Draco and I’m called Harry, and that’s it. We’re on equal footing because we’re not on any footing at all.” Harry attempted a wry smile. “It’s different, I guess.”

“But on the ground…” Draco trailed off.

“On the ground we’re different.” Harry paused awkwardly, then reached forward and took Draco’s hands in his. Harry’s hands were warm but Draco’s were ice. Harry tightened his grip to heat them. “I thought you understood that. The way I feel toward you up there in the sky, it’s…We’re in power, in control. Here we’re both lost, okay? On the ground I feel nothing for you but the old routine hatred, because the things we fight for, the people we believe in, it‘s all so different… Things are complicated here, all right? That‘s all.”

It was only a name. Did you have a name, in a dream? Did those geese have names or were they only a forgotten element of Draco’s mind, some equally nameless thing that came and went like a song?

Harry’s eyes widened. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course,” Draco snapped.

“You’re…You’re shaking.”

He was trembling violently.

“No, no I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! What wrong? Is it the…” Avada Kedavra. “What is it?” Harry’s grip on Draco’s hands tightened further still.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” His fingertips were quivering against Harry’s palm, like the wings of a trapped butterfly trying to escape. “Let go.”

“No! Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m just shivering. I’m cold.”

“Mal-” Harry stopped, then continued resolutely. “Malfoy, you’re upset, you look like you're going to cry-”

“I’m cold. If I catch a chill and get a fever and die an agonizing death in bed, it’ll be you I’ll blame, Potter.”

“Tell me.”

“Please.” He sounded desperate. “Just let go.”

When Harry didn’t do so, Draco twisted painfully out of his grasp. The two looked at each other for a brief moment.

“Fine,” muttered Harry. “I’m going inside.”

“Don’t expect to see me anytime soon,” said Draco.

“I hope I don‘t,” Harry replied. He glanced at his broomstick, wondered briefly how he was going to explain his sudden disappearance to Ron and Hermione, then shrugged. Instead of walking to the Great Hall, he simply gave Draco one last angry glance, got on his broom and flew up to Gryffindor Tower.

Draco watched him go. His trembling gradually subsided to an occasional chill that ran up his spine.

Then, taking his broomstick, he walked to the Great Hall and then down the stairs to the dungeons, where the walls were closed and there was no sky.

That was how Draco liked it.

~~~

Harry opened the window outside of his dorm room, pushed back the curtains, and stepped in. He began to walk from the dorm to the common room.

Ron was waiting for him at the doorway.

“What were you doing?” Ron’s voice was accusing.

Harry stared. He seemed to be doing a lot of that these days.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Ron went on, turning red. “It’s been almost two hours since you got up and left the table without even a word, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry simply.

“I don’t think you are,” said Ron. “Harry, what’s been up with you? Hermione and I are really worried and Ginny thinks you’re a lost cause.”

“Ginny,” said Harry softly.

“Yes, Ginny. You haven’t been spending very much time with my sister,” said Ron, and Harry could see that he was struggling to remain calm, an effort Ron rarely put forth. “Don’t think I’m the only one who hasn’t noticed. Colin Creevey’s noticed too, and the thought of that git dating my sister… Harry, I know Sirius’s death still hurts and all, but it’s been months.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re worried. I didn’t want to bother you about it, but… It’s just gotten really bad. I mean, Hermione even thinks you’ve been sneaking into Sprout’s office.”

Harry blinked. “Why would I do that?”

Ron’s eyes shifted and then he leaned forward . “Well,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed, “she thinks you’ve been trying out some of the herbs Sprout keeps there.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Ron!"

“Well, I know she’s just being paranoid, but Harry, we’ve been waiting for you to start being…you again. And it’s not happening.”

“It’s isn’t exactly easy, Ron. I’m not choosing to be this way.”

“Look, just snap out of it, okay? You’ve seemed so empty lately. Just…Just get over it.”

“Get over it?” Harry’s voice was low. He gripped his wand, briefly toyed with the idea of using it, of finishing all these questions and all these uncertainties and finishing Ron.

He’d never do it, of course. Ron was his best friend. Yet all this doubt… Holding his wand Harry knew that no matter what, he had that little bit of power that he used to so severely lack, power he now clung to desperately in a situation where he couldn’t even find the right words to say.

Because even though he wouldn’t do the spell, he could do the spell, and that gave Harry more control and confidence than words ever could.

He looked at Ron.

“Maybe get over it wasn’t the right thing to say,” Ron said nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just… I miss you, Harry. I don’t know where you just were-”

“Flying,” Harry interrupted. “I was flying. That’s where I am when I’m not with you or Hermione or Ginny. Sometimes everything seems so small here. I guess. When I fly I get away from it all. Everything is so simple.” It was the truth in a way.

Ron looked immensely relieved and was nodding very enthusiastically. “Yeah! And Harry, I completely get that. Really.” He nodded again. “It’s only, you’re my best friend. I miss… I miss copying homework with you and talking about Quidditch and laughing at Trelawney in Divination and just talking.”

“I miss all that too, Ron,” Harry said, his features softening. “I’ll try to be here more for you. And for Hermione and Ginny too.”

The boys smiled at each other.

“And now that we've got that out of the way,” said Ron, still smiling, “I think we have some homework to copy.”

“Of course.” Harry grinned. “Always.”

~~~

The moonlight filtered through the closed curtains and hit Draco directly in the eyes. He twisted his head away from it and felt a sudden sharp pang in his neck. Wincing and rubbing his neck, Draco buried himself beneath the piles of blankets on his bed, enfolding himself under the covers until they became a soft cocoon around his body. He was safe now, hidden from the stars and the sky, immersed in green material.

He closed his eyes but saw it again, the brief flash of light that had barely penetrated the bleeding sunset, the falling bird who never seemed to land, only fell again and again. It began the inevitable journey downward without ever hitting the ground.

Then another flash of green light, this one emitted from his own wand. Another senseless falling dot. He could hear the geese crying.

Draco’s eyes opened with a snap. He found himself staring at the blankets around him. It was shadowy in the darkness, but he could still see the pale green tones.

Draco had never realized how much Slytherin’s green resembled the green of Avada Kedavra. Staring at the blanket, he ran his fingers harshly along the fabric. It rippled under his touch, but the deathly green color remained.

A house of killers, was that what Salazar Slytherin had sought to create? An army of green, minions to the shade of the Quidditch banners they waved. Draco remembered the faces of the Slytherins in the Quidditch stands, watching the game and silently reveling in the dramatic green robes their team wore as they darted about the Quidditch pitch. A house of killers, of evil-doers? If that’s what Salazar had wanted, he had failed. The Slytherins were not evil, they did not enjoy killing. They enjoyed power perhaps, but who didn’t?

Still, Draco thought, perhaps so many Slytherin students were known for becoming “dark wizards” only because they were surrounded by that color, because they sensed that the color was one of death, and because they knew death was a form of power. When you became a Slytherin, that was what you were for seven years. It was you against the rest of the school, who saw the green color and so feared and hated you, without really knowing why. It didn’t matter. The rest of the school could hate all of Slytherin if they wished. The Slytherins always rose to the challenge, hating back with a vengeance. They bore the green and silver proudly, ignoring the more garish colors of the other houses. They were Slytherins, that’s what they told each other, forever and always. They defended their house and their color. For seven years.

So maybe you end up clinging to that color and maybe after seven years that color becomes a part of you. You go out into the real world, where nobody is given points for doing good, and nobody has uniforms that define their personality, no colors that separate them. It’s confusing, chaotic. It’s hell and you’re still holding on to that Slytherin identity, and you see it for a moment in a flash of green light and so that’s what you become. Because that light is green and powerful, and you were too, once upon a time.

Stop shivering.

Maybe the Sorting Hat had never cared about your traits or personality or ambition. Maybe it just cared about your favorite color.

And that was pretty stupid, as theories went. Draco didn’t even like green.

His thoughts were making no sense. It was almost three o’clock in the morning and Draco‘s words refused to fit together. All that remained in his mind were echoes of images, green skies and light and death.

The geese had died. The earth had swallowed them up at the command of two sixteen year old boys.

Silver fringe on green pillows and Harry’s breath on his skin.

Stop shivering. Please.

~~~

“You’re sure it’s nothing else?”

“Completely. What else could it be?”

Silence.

“You don’t believe me? See, it’s the dot of green in the back of their eyes. You see it now?”

~~~

Harry awoke with a start, clutching his forehead. His dream flew away rapidly as he blinked into the wave of moonlight that hit him and shook him fiercely out of slumber. He had forgotten to close the curtains of his bed, that was how instantaneous sleep had been when he finally laid down that night. He had been afraid that sleep would not come to him, that he’d torture himself with thoughts and images.

Only Harry had closed his eyes the moment his head had hit the pillow. A sound sleep? No. He’d been woken up by pain, a dream, a…

He wondered suddenly how Draco was doing. Was he crying? It was hard for Harry to imagine such an occurrence. He played with the picture in his mind. Did Draco’s eyes become red? Did his face crumple up like a child’s? Or were his tears silent, swift, unknowing in their fall?

Harry didn’t want to see Draco cry. There had been tears in his eyes that night, but it was not the same as crying. Everybody had tears. Crying was a way of acknowledging the tears that were always there, paying a debt to the sadness or anger you might be feeling.

He hoped Draco wasn’t crying. He hoped he was asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams of snowflakes or ice cream or… whatever it was Slytherins dreamed about.

“Here’s to dreams of world domination, Draco Malfoy,” Harry whispered into the night. That seemed appropriate. Perhaps a dream about world domination while the sky dripped snowflakes made of ice cream.

Harry grinned to the ceiling. He was giddy.

Part of him felt bad that he wasn’t experiencing the angst or sorrow that Draco seemed to be feeling. Harry had spotted the sorrow right off, as soon as the birds had fell. It was in part what had made him break down as he had. It wasn’t that they had performed Avada Kedavra, it was that Draco’s eyes had been so transparent. Sorrow had a look to it, a hollow sort of shadow that filled your eyes until that was all you could see. Draco had had that look.

He wanted to make Draco stop feeling whatever sadness he felt, because no one deserved that, not even an enemy. No one deserved emptiness or grief.

But Harry couldn’t worry for long. He was too relieved. He had killed a bird using an Unforgivable Curse and nothing had happened. His name was not plastered all over the Daily Prophet. He had not been expelled from Hogwarts. As of this moment, fire and brimstone had not yet rained down upon him.

Instead, as Draco once put it, Harry had held life and death in his very own hands. He had felt the control the spell had given him.

Harry did not have that control anywhere else. Voldemort plotted against him. Dumbledore plotted about him. Ron and Hermione discussed what to do with him. Ginny was being lured away by the nonexistent charms of Colin Creevey. And Draco, Draco did whatever he could to offset Harry, to provoke him into losing control.

It had almost worked. With foresight, Harry could now look back and see how close he had been to losing himself. Ginny had asked him once if he was bored. He had been more than bored, he had been hopeless. Each day Harry felt like he was growing younger and younger. As an idol, he was gaining even more fame. The boy who defeated the Dark Lord, or at least managed to evade him on more than one occasion. Yet truthfully, Harry knew that while he was seen as some sort of hero to the world, he was anything but. He was lost, the world spun around him and he had no idea what was going on. He was weak, helpless, and Dumbledore schemed and on occasion pushed Harry into the spotlight before returning him to normal life once more.

He was nothing without that moment in the spotlight, that moment when he was facing Voldemort and it was just them, and Harry had all the control he would need. Then those moments were over and Harry'd become aware of how little influence he really held, would understand that he was just one boy who had almost died as an infant, and since then had simply wandered through life, falling to the will of others.

Only not anymore.

Avada Kedavra had given him that bit of control over his destiny. Now Harry Potter was more than just a name, more than just a boy who stumbled over a few lucky breaks and consequently gained the title ‘hero’. He was something beyond that lie. He was… He had… He could…

He could make things fall out of the sky.

It wasn’t much but it had the potential to be more. Harry would practise. He had got away with it once, he would get away with it again. He would take back his own life, build on the life Voldemort tried to end, destroy the life Dumbledore planned and molded him for.

He could control his fate. He could be friends with Ron and never have to suffer those rare yet very painful glances of jealousy Ron sometimes delivered. He could be Ginny’s boyfriend without having to be her knight. He could stop being The Boy Who Lived and become The Boy Who Was Living.

Harry could even call Draco by his first name, if he wanted to. Which he didn’t, not really, but it was still sort of a nice idea.

Harry left the bed curtains open. Moonlight surrounded him, touching his skin and clothing. It danced over his lips and ears.

Harry smiled and shivered and closed his eyes.

~~~

Night became morning and Ron snatched the Daily Prophet out of Hermione’s hands.

“Ron!” Hermione admonished, looking at him over her breakfast.

“Oh,” said Ron. “Sorry. Harry wanted to see the paper.”

“Have some manners, won‘t you!”

“Well, Harry asked if he could see it and you didn‘t answer!”

“Well, I was reading it!”

“No, you weren’t!”

“Yes, I was!”

“No, you were eating-”

Harry took the paper from Ron and quickly scanned the headlines for his name. He knew it was foolish and maybe a bit paranoid, but he gave a sigh of relief when he saw nothing suspicious. He glanced up at Ron and Hermione, who were still arguing.

“-both at the same time?” Ron exclaimed.

“Yes, I’m just that talented.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, don’t be so childish. Plenty of people read the paper and eat breakfast at the same time.”

“But not when there are other people around! You can’t read and eat at the same time! It’s like you‘re…monopolizing breakfast table activities.”

“There’s food on your plate right now,” Hermione said. “And on Harry’s too. Looks like I’m not monopolizing anything.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Technically, you're not. But in theory-”

Harry grinned at both of them before this very abstract argument could progress into a fight. Ron and Hermione glanced over at him and both immediately broke into grins of their own. It had been too long since they’d seen a real smile from Harry, too long since they’d all smiled at the same time. This was good. The tension in the air was gone and they were all grinning like idiots, but they were being idiots together, and that was what really mattered.

“Well, here’s your newspaper, Hermione,” said Harry suddenly, breaking the happy silence. They all laughed and Hermione took the paper rather sheepishly.

“Thanks, Harry.” She glared at Ron. “I’ll just continue reading then, if no one has anything to say about it.” But she said the words with a stifled giggle, and Ron just smiled and let it go.

Nice. Normal. Happy.

And not boring, not really.

Hermione raised her eyes from the news. It had been months since she’d seen Harry take interest in anything, especially anything in the world outside of Hogwarts. Even in Quidditch games, Harry seemed almost lazy when it came to catching the Snitch, although so far this season he had not lost Gryffindor a single game. “Why did you want to see The Prophet anyway?” asked Hermione.

“Dunno,” said Harry. He glanced down at his plate. “I’m sort of…behind on things. On the world. Look, Ron talked to me last night.” Which of course she knew, Harry was sure Ron told her everything. That was the habit between the three of them. “What I mean to say is, he talked to me about how worried you both were and… I’m really sorry. That I’ve been neglecting you, I mean, and worrying you. I never meant to. I mean…You know what I mean.”

“Oh Harry, of course I know what you mean. I’m just glad you’re all right,” Hermione said in rushed tones, and she leaned across the table to give Harry an awkward hug. “You’ve been so quiet, you never seem to be around… I was really worried about you.”

“She was,” Ron confided. “You should’ve heard her go on about it.” He took on a high-pitched tone. “Where could he be? Why isn’t he at breakfast? Why wasn’t he in the common room last night? Is he still at Quidditch practice?”

Hermione slapped his arm. “As if you weren’t just as bad.”

“At least Ron didn’t accuse me of searching for herbs in Sprout’s office,” Harry said innocently, although he had to struggle not to smile when Hermione blushed and buried her head in her arms.

Ron rested his hand on Hermione’s shoulder, grinned at her, then looked at Harry. “Thanks,” he said suddenly. “For saying… What you said.”

“About the herbs?”

Ron smiled. “About the sorry.”

“I mean it.” Harry could see Draco out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy was busy drinking a glass of orange juice and staring at Harry over the rim.

“I wasn’t trying to be distant, Ron.” Harry said quickly, resuming his train of thought. “It’s going to be different from now on. I’ll be around and I won’t…sulk. I’ll spend time with both of you and with Ginny and the rest of our house and I won’t wander off on my own or ignore you. I promise.”

“Hello Harry.”

Harry turned around in his chair. Ginny was standing behind him. Harry was sure she had heard all that he had just said, but she gave no indication of this, only smiled shyly at him.

How long had it been since they had truly talked? On the nights when most couples snuck into abandoned corners of Hogwarts, where had Harry been? Not with Ginny. Definitely not with Ginny.

He had been with Draco. Doing spells with Draco and doing homework with Draco and doing everything else short of doing Draco himself. He had not simply been learning spells, he had been staring at Draco’s eyes and shape and kissing him, hating him and needing him more desperately than he had needed anything else, ever.

What had he left Ginny with? Quiet nights by herself, staring at pictures Colin had taken of her. Ginny didn’t deserve that.

“Hey,” said Harry, smiling back. Ginny took the empty seat next to him. Harry glanced at the crowded tables. “Overslept?”

“I always come to breakfast at this time. You just woke up earlier than usual,” Ginny said. She tilted her head to the side. “Which is unusual. You’ve become such a late sleeper.”

Ginny didn’t know about Sirius, did she? Harry had to backtrack in time, search through memories…No, of course she didn‘t know. Harry had kept silent, as had Hermione and Ron. The funeral service Dumbledore had promised never occurred. The Daily Prophet did not even acknowledge Sirius’s death.

Harry liked it better this way. He did not want Ginny to know that a death could destroy him so completely. It wasn't just Sirius’s death that had upset him, it was that Harry had been kept in the dark about the murderers. He’d been Dumbledore’s puppet and Harry had had button eyes that did not let him see what was going on backstage. He'd been blind and Dumbledore had deceived him.

And of course Harry was not going to tell anyone about that, not even Ron and Hermione. They had such faith in Dumbledore. They thought that everything would be all right because Dumbledore was there, they believed that Dumbledore knew all the answers because Dumbledore was wise and old and he had a white beard, and how could people with white beards make mistakes?

Ginny touched his arm. “Harry?” she said. “Are you all right?” She frowned. “I’ve asked you that a lot lately, and I don’t think you’ve noticed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, suddenly feeling anything but. “Just fine.”

Before Ginny could reply, Colin Creevey came over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, a new camera in tow. “Good morning!” he said. He beamed over at Ginny.

Ginny smiled back. “Double potions this morning,” she told him. “I hope we get to finish the Zhoud potion. We’re almost done, I think if we just add a few extra shrivelfigs…”

“Not too many,” Colin warned. “Remember last week? Martin’s potion blew up. I even got a picture!” He smiled. Colin collected so many memories, pieces of time that would be dust if not for the camera. Harry thought it was unfair that Colin should be the guardian of those fragmented moments. Colin had always seemed so…incapable.

“You got a picture of the explosion?” Ginny laughed. “Now that I have to see.”

“I’ll find it for you,” Colin assured her. “It’s in my room, perhaps we should go back to the dorm together and find it.”

“Actually,” Harry said, “I was wondering if we could talk first, Ginny.”

“Oh,” Ginny said. She looked to Harry, startled. “Yes. Of course. Right now?”

“Right now. Alone?”

“Okay.”

“See you,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione, who were busy arguing or snogging or something. It was hard to decide.

“You two just go ahead!” Colin called after them as they walked away. “I’ll find that picture for you, Ginny!”

Harry and Ginny wandered out of the Great Hall, walking until they reached an empty corridor. “Hey,” Ginny said once they were alone. "What do you want to talk about?”

“I want to know why you‘re still with me," said Harry bluntly.

Ginny looked taken aback. “Why I'm still with you? What do you mean?”

“We hardly speak anymore. When we do speak, it’s small talk, it’s empty, and when we kiss, it’s just out of habit. I know you want more and I know I can’t offer it so why are you putting up with me?”

“Putting up with you?”

“And why do you just echo what I say?”

“Harry! It was just… You’ve been upset. Ron told me why-”

“What did he say?”

“That your uncle died or something. I just figured you needed space.”

“Months of space, Ginny? Months and months of empty space?”

“I…” Ginny looked down. “I wanted to wait for you, Harry. I thought maybe… You'd get over it.”

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Have you?” Ginny asked finally.

“You waited for me?”

“Sort of. Colin and I kissed a couple of times. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind. They were accidents, that‘s all.”

Harry shook his head, brow furrowed. This was not going as planned. “I don’t mind,” he managed.

Ginny gave a sigh of relief. “All right.” She met his gaze. “Good. I know it‘s been a while.”

“Why did you wait?”

Ginny blushed. She looked away from Harry, then looked back. “I guess I love you,” she squeaked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You do?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Ginny laughed nervously and fiddled with her hair.

“Why do you love me?”

“I…Well. There are a lot of reasons. You’re… Brave. Strong. Considerate. You’re kind.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t think you know yourself very well, Harry.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s true.” He watched her intently. “Why else do you love me, Ginny?”

She looked at him for a very long time. “Well, you are a hero, Harry.”

He stared into her eyes as if searching for something. “You really believe that?” he said, his voice softly fierce.

“Yes. Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer, just looked at her.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing off marble. Colin Creevey spotted them and skidded to a halt, his camera bouncing against his side.

“Hello!” he said. “I found that picture you wanted to see, Ginny.”

Ginny looked faintly annoyed. “Colin, I’m not sure this is the best time.”

“No?” said Colin with a frown. He glanced at Harry. “Well… All right. I’ll show it to you in class, Gin.”

He began to run back down the hall but Harry stopped him. “Wait!” he called. “Colin!”

Colin turned and looked at them.

“I was wondering,” Harry said, “if you would take a photograph of Ginny and me.”

Pictures, bits of moments to cling to. Proof that Harry was normal, that he didn’t need anything, not Draco Malfoy to surprise him, or Avada Kedavra to give him control, or power to let him feel like he was more than nothing. He’d have proof to hold in his hands, proof that someone kind and sweet like Ginny was with him and loved him. True, she was blind to his flaws but love was blind, after all.

Harry was not sure he wanted to be blind. Was love really worth more than clear vision?

Yes, of course it was. Everybody said so.

“Would you mind?” Harry asked, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Wait a moment. Wait. You want me to take a picture of you?” Colin’s mouth dropped open. This was quite an unusual request as Harry generally avoided the camera like a plague.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Of Ginny too. Both of us, together.”

“Oh! Well. All right! Sure!” Colin still sounded startled. However he grinned, moved closer and lifted the camera up. Harry put his arm around Ginny.

“Smile,” suggested Colin enthusiastically.

Harry smiled widely. Ginny glanced sideways at him, looked pleased, and followed suit.

Click.

The photograph appeared in Colin’s hands (his new Insta-Photo!Film was his most treasured possession). He looked down at the picture and gave Harry and Ginny a thumbs up. The two crowded around him. “Would you look at that?” exclaimed Colin. “Excellent!”

“Oh, but Colin,” Ginny said, face falling. “The picture is only of me!”

It was true. Ginny was on the left side of the picture, smiling. The remainder of the photograph was of the rather uninteresting stone wall.

“Only of you?!” Colin sounded oh-so doubtful. He held the photograph up to the light, as if this would suddenly cause Harry to appear. “Why, so it is! Gosh. Sorry Harry. Boy, am I embarrassed.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Ginny said soothingly. She glanced at the photo. “At least you managed to fit in some of Harry.”

All that was visible of Harry was half of his arm, slung around Ginny’s shoulder. It was not one of his most photogenic shots.

“S’pose I’ll have to keep the photograph then,” said Colin, placing the picture into his front pocket.

“Maybe you could take another picture?” offered Ginny. “Seeing as that one didn’t really come out right…”

“I’m out of film,” said Colin cheerfully. “Sorry, Harry.”

Harry glared steadily at Colin. It was a you’ve-got-a-photograph-of-my-girlfriend-in-your-pocket kind of glare.

Colin smiled back at Harry cheerfully and Harry decided that puberty had only made Colin Creevey weirder.

“However, if you want,” Colin went on, “I can take pictures of Harry after supper. My brother Dennis asked me to take a few more of you, Harry.”

“Huh?” said Harry. “Why?”

“Oh, I gave him some of the old ones I had of you. Dennis has started a private collection of Harry Potter pictures. He seems to fancy them a good deal. He’s even framed some of his favorite photographs of you.”

“Oh,” said Harry.

“He’s hung them up over his bed.”

“Oh,” said Harry again.

“He told me that’s the best place for them. He says your picture makes him feel safe at night. He can’t sleep without them.”

“Er,” was all Harry could manage. He made a vague attempt at clearing his throat. “Oh. Well, that’s nice?” Harry looked around fearfully. “Isn‘t it?”

“Well, I think it is,” Colin rattled on like a madman. “Although it’s a bit odd. I mean, I don’t know if heart-shaped frames were really necessary. Anyways, class’ll be starting any minute now. Are you and Harry done?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said, turning around to face Harry. “Are we?”

“For now.” Harry leaned forward as if to kiss her, then moved away, then leaned forward just as she moved away. His lips ended up brushing her temple. Harry glanced down at his feet, feeling less than suave. “I’ll see you later though, okay?” he said to the floor.

“Tonight,” Ginny promised.

Harry attempted a smiled and walked away before she could, meeting Ron and Hermione on the way to his next class. They had Care of Magical Creatures that day. Harry quickly scanned the students. Hagrid’s robust form was very visible, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry felt a frown tugging at his mouth. Had someone found out that Draco had used an Unforgivable Curse? Was that why Draco was absent? What if Draco was in trouble? He might be expelled! Sent to Azkaban! Could they even do that? Draco was only what, sixteen, seventeen? They couldn’t send a sixteen year old to Azkaban, could they?

Harry remembered the face of Crouch’s son. He could not have been much older than Draco.

But no, no one could have found out. Harry had not gotten into any trouble whatsoever and he had performed the spell too.

Draco was probably just sick.

Only the next day, Harry didn’t see Draco at mealtimes either. He was strangely absent in potions. Nobody seemed to have an explanation for this. The Slytherins shrugged to each other and the Gryffindors did not care.

“You’re distracted again,” Ginny said one day as Harry walked her to class. It had been five nights since he and Draco had succeeded in the Killing Curse. Since then, Harry had only caught glimpses of Draco, flashes of white-blond hair in the hallways, hair that disappeared as soon as Harry caught sight of it.

“You’re always distracted lately,” Ginny continued.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered vaguely.

“I wasn’t accusing you, I was just saying…”

“Sorry,” Harry repeated, craning his neck to see above the crowd.

“Who’re you looking for?”

“Draco Malfoy. He hasn’t been in class for a while. I was wondering if he was dead.” Which was not exactly true, Draco had to be alive. Unless Harry was seeing a ghost.

Ginny looked shocked. “Dead? Come on, Harry, Malfoy can’t be dead. We would know.”

“Would we?” Harry smiled grimly. He shook himself out of his thoughts. “Anyway, Ron’s waiting for me down the hall. What’s your next class? Isn’t it Transfigur-"

Harry froze and then shivered as he felt ice creeping along the back of his neck.

No, no, it was not ice, it was hands, fingers, skin…

A folded piece of ripped parchment was placed into Harry’s hand. The hand moved from his neck and encircled Harry’s fist, forcing it to close around the parchment.

“Harry?” Ginny looked alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“Shh,” said a voice in his ear, softer than dawn, especially in the loudness of the busy hallways. “Don’t scream, idiot.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“What? You weren’t going to what?” Ginny looked exasperated.

“Scream. Er, I mean…”

“Nice one.”

“Shut up!” Harry said.

“Me?” cried Ginny. “What did I say?”

“No, not you, Ginny.”

“Then who were you talking to?”

“Er, no one.”

“Say the voices in your head.”

“Would you get out of my ear?!”

“There’s…something in your ear?” asked Ginny hesitantly.

“Huh? Oh! Yes!” Harry clapped his hand to his ear suddenly. “A bug or something, ack, okay, I think it’s out now.”

Ginny looked at him strangely. “Harry, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Who, me? I’m super. Did the bell just ring? You know, I think it did. I better get to class. Bye.”

“Uh, bye. Harry? Bye.”

He ran to class and ignored Snape’s lecture, looking instead at the piece of parchment in his hands. It made Harry think of the summer before. He remembered the letters Draco and he had sent back in a flurry, needing it, needing those words to be exchanged.

It was all about words. Words mean nothing, hadn’t Harry told Draco that once? But all the two of them had were words, words were what twisted people into becoming something different, something new, something scary or something better. It was words that commanded him and Draco, not a lust for power or love. The jeers they exchanged, the quiet stares that said volumes, the letters that met together and formed wishes and commands. It was the words that had the passion, nothing else.

Harry opened the piece of parchment underneath his desk.

Go to the usual place, was all it said.

~~~

The Restricted Section of the library was musty. Draco tried not to sneeze underneath the invisibility cloak. As he scanned the words in books, he mused about Harry and about the look of shock on his face when Draco had reached out and touched him. Draco had been under the invisibility cloak but Harry had still known his touch even before Draco had said a word. Then he had given Harry the note and Harry had been surprised. It made Draco feel better, knowing that he could surprise Harry like that, knowing he still had that bit of power.

There were people not too far away, Draco could hear them. He hoped it wasn’t the Weasley girl and Creevey snogging again, that was not a pleasant sight to see. He sighed, his breath making the flame of the candle next to him flicker uncertainly. He waited for the couple to leave but they seemed quite persistent and finally Draco turned back to the words in front of him and ignored the noises, bored and uninterested and wishing he was in Potions instead. He stared at the letters, urging them to make sense, silently pleading with them to make the green light in his mind go away.

The black ink of the letters remained, but the words seemed a blinding green.

“Get yourself together,” Draco hissed, not sure if he was talking to the words or to himself or to Harry.

Was it nighttime yet?

~~

It felt like ages since Harry had been here last, although it had been only five days. Harry hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the small, unused classroom. He had missed the room's ghostly quiet, the old-fashioned desks, the somber black curtains, but most of all Harry had missed…

Well, not Draco, that was for sure. The green light then, Harry could miss that, couldn’t he? Was it wrong to find some sort of comfort in something so deadly?

He picked up his wand and idly whispered "Avada Kedavra,” to the falling shadows, wondering if there was something lurking within them. Nothing happened visibly, there was no life out there, but Harry could still feel something leaving his wand. It felt as though an invisible presence was seeking out the life Harry had sent it after. He shivered at the image that suddenly appeared in his mind, a blind man groping the black shadows, searching for a pulse.

“Potter. You got here without the invisibility cloak.”

Harry turned quickly to see Draco standing in the doorway, eyes illuminated by his lighted wand, books underneath his arm. Draco closed the door and walked forward.

“Hey,” said Harry. “You’re here.”

“Of course.”

“You didn’t say you’d be here. You just told me to come.” Harry smiled. “I’ve missed this place, haven’t you?”

“Not really. I’ve been here the past four or five nights. The rest of the time I was in the library.”

“Yeah? What’ve you been doing?” Harry looked up, feeling lightheaded. “Have you been dreaming about ice cream? Or world domination? Because I wasn’t really sure which you’d dream about.”

“I don’t dream about either.”

“Weird, I was sure it’d be world domination… It was snowflakes then?”

“You‘re a freak,” Draco said. He sat down. “I’ve been doing research.”

Harry blinked, watching Draco pile several books on the table top. “Research?” he echoed. “Research for what?”

“I want to know what happened the first time we tried Avada Kedavra together.”

“The only time, you mean,” Harry said, suddenly cold.

“You don’t want to try it again?” said Draco, looking up. “That’s why I've asked you here.”

Harry shook his head violently. "I don't want to try it again. Not with you."

“No? How sad. Whatever happened to the Gryffindor spirit of adventure?”

Harry turned away.

“Be honest with me, Potter.” Draco was glaring. “You can’t really tell me you’re not the least bit curious about what occurred. Our minds connected! That’s not supposed to happen, it‘s practically unheard of. Believe me, I’ve searched the books in the library like a lunatic. The few volumes that mention anything similar to what happened to us, they all passed it off as a myth.”

“Right. A myth, a dream, a story. Maybe that’s all that happened to us, Malfoy. Maybe we got caught up in some else’s story or dream, maybe it wasn’t us at all. Or maybe it was just a moment of temporary insanity. We should forget it happened. It doesn't really matter.”

“Doesn't really matter?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You don’t understand how huge this could be, you haven’t been reading the books I have. We saw Avada Kedavra in our minds!”

“You weren’t so excited by it when it first happened.”

“I didn’t understand how rare it was. Or how…How it connected me to you.”

“Is that supposed to be sweet?”

“Do I strike you as the romantic type, Potter? It’s not sweet, it’s ugly and intense. We saw a spell actually form and yet neither of us got harmed! And this wasn’t just any spell, it was a big one, the biggest. Perhaps that’s why we saw it. I was thinking, a spell would have to be powerful in order for it to be strong enough to make itself visible. We have to try the spell together again, see if it reveals itself.”

“Why can't we try alone?”

“You’re an idiot, have I ever told you that? Yes, I think I have. Potter, it took both of our minds to see the spell start to form. We’re just not powerful enough alone. If we were, we'd have seen it in the sky the other day.”

“Yet together, you think we're strong enough to see the curse form?"

“Apparently. We've only tried once.”

“You said we had to have identical minds and goals for the spell to work. We don’t have identical minds now, like we must have back then.”

“No, see, that’s the interesting part. We didn’t have identical minds back then. We couldn’t have, yet we still... Our minds sort of melded together and we still saw Avada Kedavra even though we’re different people and… There’s something bigger at work here, Potter. That's what I'm really after.”

“Of course there's something bigger at work. There’s always something bigger at work. I‘m used to it by now. ‘Something bigger’. Big deal. We’re small. There’s always going to be something bigger. There’s always going to be some higher power manipulating us into feeling, or killing, or living, or dancing.”

Draco sniggered.

“What?” asked Harry, annoyed.

“I just pictured you dancing.”

Harry sighed and got to his feet. “I thought we were going to practise the spell some more. If you only asked me here for this, I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. The least you can do is help me research what happened. I found two more books in the library. They look promising. You can look them over, see if they mention anything.”

“So that’s where you’ve been all this time?” said Harry. “The library?”

“With the invisibility cloak.”

“Isn’t Snape angry?”

“Father told him to let me do what I like a long time ago. Snape listens to Father. All the other professors think I‘m sick and Dumbledore doesn‘t know.”

“You should have gone to your classes.”

“Classes!” Draco sniffed. “I don’t need to go to those.”

“You think you’re above everything.”

“I don’t think. I am.”

“You’re a liar. You know you‘re not above anything.”

“I’m better than you,” Draco snapped. “Not that that’s very hard to accomplish. Sit down and read. See what you can find.” He handed Harry a book and then opened up another book without a word. Harry stared at him for a moment, then sat down and began to read as well.

Harry scanned the crumbling book for nearly an hour. The pages stared up at him, white as a ghost with words scrolling blackly. Harry glanced around the classroom again, then turned back to the heavy stack of pages on his lap.

The book Draco had handed to Harry covered ancient magicks, focusing on the different properties used for spells and the fluctuations of magic over millennia. It talked an awful lot about the beliefs of past wizarding communities, and how these beliefs turned out to be wrong. Harry could hardly see the sense in learning about theories that had all been proven untrue.

At one point, the author droned, trying to sound scholarly and failing completely, it was common belief that the strength of magic varied with the position of the planets and the stars. We now know that magic is a constant unmoving and unlimited force upon our planet.

Harry skimmed down the page, which mostly seemed to cover the importance of astrologers in ancient times. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“Malfoy.” Harry’s voice sounded strange. “Malfoy, come here. I think I found something…”

Draco got up and looked over Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s eyes widened further as he continued to read.

During moonless nights, magical villages believed that the world's magic was cursed and would taint any one person who used it. On occasions such as these, a pair of individuals would be called upon to awake the dormant magic and cast the more important spells together. It was believed that if a pair cast a single spell together, the evil in the magic would purify. The pair called upon were usually twins, although there are occasions recorded in which two likeminded individuals took on these duties. In all cases, whether twins or lovers, they were thought to have souls entwined by magic and were called the Implexos. It was believed that the Implexos were connected to each other on a supernatural level and would remain so for all eternity. The pair was not allowed to love anyone else for fear the magic of the other would become jealous. If such jealousy occurred, the sacred connection between the Implexos would be broken and the two would return to being normal human beings. Legend says that the village the Implexos protected would be cursed until both of the Implexos were killed and a new, untainted pair were found.

Of course, modern society has proven that magic can be called upon by only one individual. It can be said with fair certainty that tales of two people performing one spell is nothing more than myth.

“Huh,” Draco said once he was done reading. “So basically, it's saying we’re soul mates. Bound together for all eternity. Great, eternity with a Gryffindor. Ah well, better send out the wedding invitations. Which one of us should wear the dress?”

“We don’t know if any of this is true,” Harry said to the book, his voice quiet. “It may be a myth someone made up before bed. Maybe the book is right. And you would wear the dress, of course.”

“Me?!” Draco looked outraged.

Harry shrugged. “You don’t think so? I thought it was pretty obvious. You’re way more effeminate than I am.”

“Me?!” cried Draco again. “You’re such a girl, Potter. I reek of testosterone.”

“And this is a good thing?”

“I’m very masculine!”

Harry didn’t even try to hide his smile.

“You doubt it?” Draco smiled back, then moved forward decisively and pulled Harry up from his chair. He shoved Harry against a wall, put an arm on either side of him. “Bet I could make you scream like a girl.”

Harry glared at him, pulse quickening. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Draco leaned in. “Are you laughing?” He brushed his lips against Harry’s collarbone, slowly pressing against him. His lips trailed down further, breath whispering down the black Hogwarts robes.

“Get up,” hissed Harry.

“Why don’t you walk away?"

“Get up!”

“Because you can’t, that‘s why. Because you’re riveted here; you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. And you don’t want to, do you, Potter? No, of course not. You’re happy right where you’re standing.”

The shadows whispered but did not say a word.

~~~

They returned the next night. They had left the books wide open in the classroom.

For a moment they glanced at each other, then both looked away awkwardly. They retreated to separate sides of the room, eyes settling on anything but each other.

Harry resumed reading the book from the night before. Or at least, his eyes read over the words, then forgot them a moment later. His mind was elsewhere, mostly on Draco. He heard a cough, looked up, but Draco was still reading quietly. Turning back to his book, Harry listened intently to the other boy’s breathing, the sound of pages being turned. Paper brushing against paper, it made a soft, scratching noise. So different from skin brushing against skin, which hardly made a sound.

Draco raised his eyes, glancing at Harry. Harry was looking down, eyes on his book. Draco frowned and returned to his own reading. It was nothing new, only mentioned the bonding of minds to be a fable, adding that scholars suspected that it had been a custom, almost a ritual during medieval times.

Of course, wrote the author, it is well known that medieval witches and wizards had a flair for dramatic story telling, not to mention a strong taste for anything containing alcohol, so inebriated tales of connected minds are to be, in this scholar’s mind, taken with a grain of salt.

“We should try the spell together.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “What?”

“We’ve been reading and reading and there’s nothing," Harry said. "I’m sick of waiting for the information to drop into our laps. Why don’t we just… Try again. See what happens.”

“Why? You were so against it yesterday.”

“I know but...Well… After reading all of this, I’m kind of curious. Two minds melding, it's happened before, but no one wants to acknowledge that it has. Why?”

“That’s the question.”

“Yeah.” Harry looked away. “Malfoy, remember what it was like after the spell… When we didn’t push the Killing Curse into being and suddenly all of the light went away and we were two separate minds again…”

“I remember.”

“It was so cold, once the spell was over. I felt…empty. Like I was alone in a world everyone else had deserted. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold.”

“Sometimes you have to be cold.” Sometimes life is like winter.

“Yeah. You're right... So I guess we should go for it. The spell, I mean.”

Draco closed the book. “All right. Perhaps nothing will happen anyway, don't sound so scared. Really, you don’t have to be so melodramatic about everything.”

“I’m not being melodramatic and I’m not scared,” Harry said. “Don’t we need a rat or something?”

“Must I find one? Why don’t we use that owl of yours? The school will notice if one of their owls goes missing.”

“I'm not killing Hedwig! What about your owl?”

“Amers?!” Draco looked shocked. “Never! I’ll find a damn rat.” He threw on the invisibility cloak and Harry could hear his soft footsteps as he prowled around the room, then opened the door to check the halls.

Harry waited in apprehension. He wasn’t sure this was the best idea. It might twist the beauty of Avada Kedavra into something complex. The Killing Curse was beautiful because of how straightforward it was. Two words and a flash of light, that was it. Just quick and painless simplicity, tinted green.

He heard footsteps but Draco was gone, and Harry turned back to his thoughts.

Doing the spell with Draco would complicate everything, ruin the rare simplicity Harry had found in Avada Kedavra. Nevertheless, Harry had agreed to Draco‘s wish. He wasn’t sure why, only knew that the more he thought about it the more important finding out what really happened seemed to be. Why did everyone seem so intent on dismissing the idea of two minds putting forth one spell? What did the world have to hide?

Harry listened closely for the sound of Draco's footsteps. He was worried about him. Ever since the two geese had died, Draco seemed changed. His movements were less decisive, his gaze more wandering and uncertain…Except when he was looking at Harry. Then he always seemed certain.

“Nothing,” came Draco’s voice. “Absolutely nothing. How does Mrs. Norris eat? Pretty soon she’ll be going after first year students.” Draco closed the door, took off the invisibility cloak and walked over to Harry.

“So that’s it? We can’t do the spell?” Harry frowned. “I guess we’ll just have to try again tomorrow. It’s getting late anyway, I think I'll be going to bed and..." Harry saw that Draco had become very still. "Malfoy? Malfoy?”

Draco raised a finger to his lips. He was staring at something. Harry followed his gaze and noticed the faint shadow moving across the floor. A rat. Obviously they were meant to try this tonight after all.

Harry withdrew his wand, pointing it to where the shadow was moving. He glanced to Draco, who had taken out his own wand.

“You’re ready?” Harry asked.

Draco looked at him. Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, softly brushing his lips against Draco’s. “You’re ready?” he repeated.

Draco nodded and turned to the shadow which was quickly scuttling to the door. They did not count to three this time. Draco just tightened his grip on Harry’s hand and then together they whispered, “Avada Kedavra.”

It did not feel as if something was trying to slam their minds together this time, instead their senses glided together effortlessly. Draco’s thoughts wound around Harry’s. It seemed that they were seeing with one pair of eyes as the darkness of the classroom dissolved in green flames. The green flames began to take shape, forming a vortex. They could hear the ocean in their ears, steady, rumbling, consistent. Light spilled from the vortex like golden foam on green waves.

It was almost peaceful.

This is…

Different. I know. Oh

My God! There’s someone inside it! Inside the

Flames, they’re spinning, Draco!

Harry, that can’t be-

Is it-

There was a person inside the green vortex, spinning and staring out at them. It was not a rat who the Killing Curse had captured, it was an old, old man with a tumbling white beard and bright blue eyes. There were lines across his forehead and his mouth was open in shock as he spun helplessly, his arms outstretched toward them.

This can’t be, it isn’t possible, Draco, I think that’s

Dumbledore. Harry, drop the spell!

It won’t let me, it can’t, Draco, it’s pulling me forward.

It was a hand, holding Harry, refusing to let go.

Get out of my mind, Potter! That’s Dumbledore, try to twist away

Can’t, Draco, it’s like a tide, I can’t

Untangle yourself from it!

Can’t, can’t, it wants to escape from our minds, Draco, there’s not enough room for it here, it wants

Life, don’t let it take it, it’s

I can’t breathe

I can’t see, it’s all green

Let it go, no, no, we can’t

I think I’m drowning.

Avada Kedavra was like a current, dragging both Harry and Draco under. The spell was overpowering, every breath was torture. The curse was struggling to escape the two boy's minds, yet neither let it leave their heads and enter reality. In response, the curse searched their lungs and eyes, and beat against their bodies and cried for escape.

Harry could feel the Killing Curse pushing him under, it felt as though he was sinking in an ocean, the water thick and cold, flames made of seaweed. There was nothing here but Draco, whose voiceless thoughts screamed for air within Harry’s mind.

There was green and green and green. The surface with its golden froth was so far away. Avada Kedavra was suffocating, breathing the air out of them.

Let go, Harry. It was Draco, his words urgent.

It's going to end here, Draco.

No, no, no, it's not! Dumbledore would kill you too, if he thought it’d help his stupid cause. Just let go. You're pulling me down with you and I don't want to die!

Let go?

Harry, forget the spell.

It's too developed to forget! It's here, it wants to leave our heads or, or, or something. Draco, I don't think I can breathe, but I can't keep the spell here, it wants to leave.

Then let it leave.

But Dumbledore-

Do

you want to die, Harry? Push the spell forward or it'll kill us both! Don't let Dumbledore control you like this, don't give Dumbledore the power you've just found. I know you want to keep that control, Potter. I know you want that power for yourself!

...You're right. I do.

Leave. That was all Harry thought. Leave.

And it was as simple as that. The spell left his mind and his lungs, it soared to the spinning man in the corner of the room, a mass of green energy. It hit him and engulfed him.

The classroom was suddenly dingy and dark, shadowed even in the moonlight. Dumbledore’s body lay crumpled on the floor. A ripped invisibility cloak lay at his side.

Draco stared at the body of the old man. His mouth was wide open in an expression of muted horror. Then he turned and rested his forehead against Harry's, motionless.

"Harry," he whispered.

Harry's fingers entwined themselves tightly around Draco’s.

He had never felt colder in his life.