Irredeemable

Harry fumbled around in his robes for his wand, eyes still locked on Voldemort's. "Help me!" he screamed. "Somebody do something!"

"They won't do anything. All they can do is sit in their stands and watch as I destroy their saviour in front of their eyes. Even Dumbledore is powerless."

"Stop playing these stupid mind games! I know that's not true; you're scared of Dumbledore. That's why you've never attacked Hogwarts."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Voldemort pointed out with a cruel, serpentine grin. Harry stammered, trying to come up with a response. "Speechless, Potter?"

"Shut up, you bastard."

"Manners, Potter, manners," Voldemort reminded his caustically. "Didn't your mummy ever teach you not to swear? Oh, that's right, she's dead."

Blood pounded in his ears and he found himself lunging forward to tackle Voldemort. His body was caught in the air, arms stretched out before him and fists clenched. One leg was barely touching the ground and the other trailed behind him.

"You can't hurt me, boy. I'm too powerful for you. You might as well give in and agree to end your pointless life right now."

"I don't care if I die," Harry proclaimed boldly, "but I'm not going to just give up. I'll take you down with me if I must."

"Noble sentiments, boy, but foolhardy."

"I may be a fool," Harry agreed, managing to appear dignified despite the fact that he was hanging in a rather awkward position with nothing supporting him, "but I am not about to betray everything and everyone that I've ever held dear."

"Even if they betray you?" Voldemort whispered quietly, searching Harry's eyes for some hidden answer as he did so.

"My friends will never betray me."

"And of course Dumbledore will always be on your side. Where would he be without his little hero to parade around in front of the press? One day he will grow tired of you and cast you aside when you can be of no more use. You are nothing more than a tool to him."

"That's not true!" Harry argued, though a voice in the back of his mind told him that if Dumbledore really was his ally he would not have sent Harry to the Dursleys'.

"Tell yourself whatever lies you wish, boy, it makes no difference to me. Now, as entertaining as this conversation is, there are more important things that debating with a silly teenage boy." Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a wave of Voldemort's wand.

"Avada Kedavra." Harry knew no more.

Harry was cold. He moaned slightly and tried to burrow closer to Draco for warmth. The other boy was missing from his side. Harry instantly was alert, and his eyes snapped open, focusing on the figure of Dumbledore at his side.

"What did you do to Draco?" Harry hissed angrily, nails digging painfully into his palms.

"Draco is fine," Dumbledore replied succinctly, studying Harry as if he were a penseive.

"I want to see him," Harry demanded.

"I'm afraid that that's not possible. For the time being, we feel that it is best to keep the two of you separated so that you can not plan any escapes."

"Look, Dumbledore, I need to see Draco. Now either you get him for me now or I'll be forced to do something drastic."

"Harry, think about this. You are in a magically warded room without a wand. It is physically impossible for you to do magic."

"Magic isn't omnipotent," Harry answered evasively.

"Perhaps if you agree to cooperate we could arrange for you to see him for a short amount of time."

"What do you mean, cooperate? Aren't you just going to kill me? Or ship me off to Azkaban to languish for the rest of my life?"

"Although Voldemort would likely do such things, we do not."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Which is why Sirius was sentenced for a crime he didn't commit?"

"That was the Ministry of Magic and not the Order of the Phoenix, Harry. The two are very different."

"I don't see much difference at all. You're both a bunch of bumbling fools who think that just because you don't use supposedly Dark spells that gives you the right to control everyone else." Harry shook his head. "Now let me see Draco."

"No, Harry."

"Dumbledore..." Harry growled. "You don't understand anything."

"I understand enough," the old man replied with an air of confidence. "I would not be so vain as to boast that I know everything, but I know that you want to see Mr. Malfoy to help you plot your escape, and that can not be allowed."

"You know nothing about me," Harry spat, eyes narrowed and cold. Dumbledore did not say anything in response. Harry sighed. "How long have I been out?"

"Two weeks." That left him only one week before the full moon and his transformation. "We would like for you to cooperate with us, Harry, so that we can help you."

"You can't help me. And even if you could, I wouldn't accept your help. You'd just stab me in the back as soon as I had begun to trust you again."

Dumbledore frowned sadly, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. "I'm sorry about what happened, my boy. It was a huge misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? That's all that was to you, a misunderstanding? What do you expect me to do, accept your apology and go back to being the little Gryffindor hero? That was more than just a little misunderstanding, Dumbledore, that was my life that you were toying with."

"At the time, we had nothing else to think. You had the Dark Mark and you should have been dead-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not be? Did you ever once try to find me? No. You didn't care. I've survived the Killing Curse before, and yet this time I must be dead. You were a blind fool."

"I was, Harry. And I apologize sincerely."

"Apologizing isn't good enough."

"I know."

Draco woke up groggily, robbing his head tenderly in the places it was sore. "What happened?" he wondered, fighting to sit up and look around him. His vision darkened and his head ached fiercely; it took him a moment to focus on his surroundings. This was not his room in the Dark Lord's stronghold, but it was familiar all the same. "Why am I at Hogwarts?"

He recognized that he was in one of the rarely used dungeon rooms somewhere near the Slytherin common room. He stood up, swaying from side to side, and stumbled over to the door, latching onto the handle and attempting to pull it open.

It did not budge. The reality of his situation came rushing at him with sudden clarity. "I'm a prisoner? Where's Harry?"

"Harry is fine, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore replied, slipping into the room. Draco glared at him and his opulent purple robes.

"That's not what I asked," Draco argued gruffly. "Where is he?"

"In the room next to yours."

"Let me-"

"No, you can not see him, not yet at least. But I can tell you that he knows that you are fine."

"You call this fine?" Draco asked incredulously. "I'm locked up by my sworn enemies, and I'm just chipper? I want to see Harry and I want to see him now. I don't want any of your stupid excuses or any delay. I am going to see Harry whether you like it or not."

"You can see him as soon as you begin to cooperate, Mr. Malfoy."

"Like hell I'm going to cooperate with you, you manipulative old fool. I have even fewer reasons to like- or even somewhat respect- you then I did before, and I'm not about to put up with your idiotic nonsense. And Harry won't either, so don't even bother trying. You might as well kill us and get it over with."

"I have no intention of killing either one of you." Dumbledore's blue eyes tried to widened and his face shifted to appear completely honest. Draco merely snorted in response.

"I'm not going to believe anything you say until I can see Harry."

"If that's is the way you insist on acting, Mr. Malfoy, then-"

"It is."

Dumbledore grimaced slightly but did not otherwise acknowledge the interruption. "Then I will take my leave for now. Think about what I said." Dumbledore left, leaving a baleful Draco behind him.

"There's something about those two that I just don't quite understand," Albus Dumbledore informed Professors McGonagall and Snape. "They seem to have a unique kind of bond, one which I'm unsure of. Something is going on here that we're not aware of."

"It's probably nothing more than the camaraderie that comes from torturing Muggles together," Snape suggested sourly.

"It's something more than that," Dumbledore insisted, frowning in deep concentration. Harry and Mr. Malfoy have always hated each other, and now that's changed."

"Malfoy was the one who helped Harry to escape," McGonagall pointed out shrewdly. "Perhaps it has something to do with that."

Dumbledore shook his head in disagreement. "That may be a part of it, but we're still missing something. I think that before we can proceed any further we need to find out precisely what is going on."

"And how do you suggest we do that? Stick them together and let them plot how to get back to their puppeteer?" Snape's lips twisted bitterly. "As well hand them their wands and show them the door."

"No, I think that all we need to do is observe them. They are both young and rash. They each gave away many things that I'm sure they did not mean to today. We can use that and figure this out."

"You're forgetting that they aren't naive little schoolboys anymore, Albus," Snape cautioned. "They're Death Eaters, and at the top of the pack, too. They would have learned how to hide how they truly feel and think by now or they would be dead."

"Are you suggesting that this is all a clever facade to hide their true intentions, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "What else could it be? Draco in particular was always excellent at masking his emotions."

"That is a possibility that we will have to consider, I suppose. Still, I do not like the implications that it presents. We may be unable to do anything at all for them if that is the case."

"We can't do anything for them now," Snape spat.

"Don't give up hope so easily, Snape!" McGonagall warned. "While Mr. Malfoy was raised to be a Death Eater, Harry was brought up in a quite different setting-"

"Where he was pampered by those Muggle relatives of his. Look what he did to them, Minerva. That boy has no goodness left in his soul."

"Severus, Minerva, please," Dumbledore intervened, raising up a hand to forestall any further comments. "Harry was not spoiled by his aunt and uncle, in fact it was quite the opposite. Although he never talked much about it, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger were constantly worried over the treatment he received while at their house. He was underfed and treated as no more than a House Elf."

"So he has all the more reason to turn Dark!" Snape commented sharply. "I don't care what you have to say about it; that boy murdered at least a fifty people in the past week alone, several of them in cold blood. He's not your perfect Gryffindor anymore and you won't be able to get him back!"

"We can but try, Severus," Dumbledore responded with a steely look in his deep blue eyes. "We can but try."

Harry opened his eyes and looked around, noting his surroundings with relief. "I'm home," he whispered, trying to forget that this was only a temporary reprieve. He walked towards Voldemort's throne slowly, head hanging down in shame. "I'm sorry, master," he lamented sadly, "I have failed you."

"Although I do not easily except failure, my young snake, I must say that you are being punished enough."

"Thank you, master," Harry responded gratefully, relieved that he was not about to undergo the painful Cruciatus curse.

"Now, I need information. Where are you? Where is Draco? Who is with you?"

"I am at Hogwarts. I have not actually seen Draco, but I have been told he is also here and is in good condition. The only person I have seen so far is Dumbledore."

"Like I said, my young snake, you are being punished enough. Especially if you have to put up with that Muggle-loving old crackpot." Harry smiled wryly, appreciating the humor of the comment. "Is there an hope for escape?"

"As of yet, no. The doors are locked and my room is warded so that I can not do magic. I can do little things, of course, but it is very difficult, especially without my wand. I think that the only way to escape may be to have some outside help."

Voldemort nodded in assent. "Something will be arranged. Until then, do not reveal anything, especially those things that could not be tortured out of my other Death Eaters. Find Draco and then inform me of his true condition. I do not trust Dumbledore or any of his Order of the Phoenix cronies."

"Nor do I, my lord. I will do everything as you say."

"See to it that you do," Voldemort remarked sharply. "If possible, find your way back to me quickly. You and Draco both are needed to plan the attack on Hogwarts. I will, of course, visit you each night in your dreams. Set up your barriers to let no one else but me in. Keep in mind that Dumbledore is an accomplished Legilimens."

"Of course, my lord."

Harry bowed deeply and withdrew when the Dark Lord waved him away in dismissal. "And don't forget, young snake, that you should use this opportunity to learn as much about the enemy as possible."

"I will do that, master." Harry backed out of the room with one final bow, eager to walk around Voldemort's stronghold and see the familiar, comforting settings, even if it was only in his dreams.

"You are going to let me see Draco now. I'll do whatever you want, within reason, but I am going to see him."

Dumbledore could not stop the joyous look that eased over his features. Although things would have been better if Harry had agreed to cooperate entirely through his own violation, Dumbledore was perfectly willing to accept whatever compliance he could squeeze out of the boy.

"As you wish. I will have him brought here immediately."

"See to it," Harry commanded in a cold, imperious voice.

Dumbledore nodded his head slightly and left the room, heading to the smaller dungeon room next to Harry's. He opened the door and was met with the intense gray eyes of a glaring Draco.

"You are going to let me see Harry now. I'll do whatever you want, but you are going to let me see him."

This time the grin of triumph grew even wider and Dumbledore felt his eyes twinkle with a victorious light. "If that is what you want. I will take you to him now."

"Good," Draco responded in the same coolly commanding tone as Harry. Dumbledore, leading Draco out of his room (he did not think of it as a cell), privately wondered at the startling similarities between the two boys.

Harry was standing just inside the door, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed as if he would not truly believe that Dumbledore would let him see the other Death Eater. "Draco!" he cried as the blonde boy moved into his line of sight.

"Harry!" Draco responded with as much fervor as his counterpart had earlier. The two boys hugged briefly and moved back to sit together on Harry's bed. "Leave us alone, Dumbledore," Draco demanded, motioning towards the door.

"I don't think that would be for the best at the moment," Dumbledore disagreed calmly. "I will stay until I feel confident that nothing... untoward will happen."

Simultaneously, Harry and Draco each raised a single eyebrow, cocking their heads to one side. After a moment of staring at the old wizard, they shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, beginning to talk in quiet whispers that Dumbledore strained to overhear.

Unbeknownst to him, Harry had set up an elementary shielding charm, even though the effort had taxed him; it was hard to work through the magic-dampening wards. As a result of the many wards surrounding the room, the small magic could not be sensed and so Harry felt relatively secure in his privacy.

"Voldemort spoke to me last night," he informed Draco hurriedly. "He's going to send help to get us out, but he didn't say when or who. He didn't punish me. He said that having to deal with Dumbledore was punishment enough for me."

Draco laughed and smirked, nodding in complete agreement.

"He warned us not to give away any information and to learn as much as we can. The attack on Hogwarts will not occur until we are out of the castle."

"That's good then." He turned to find Dumbledore staring at them suspiciously. "Maybe we should give him something to worry about," Draco suggested slyly, winking.

"Like what?" Harry wanted to know, though his return wink informed Draco that he was catching on.

"Like this." Draco grabbed the smaller boy in both arms and kissed him deeply and passionately.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in sudden surprise and he barely stopped the gasp that fought valiantly to escape from his throat. Whatever he had thought about the two boys was turned on its head. This was certainly an unexpected twist. He was entirely unprepared for this possibility; the two had always hated each other before now and he did not think that there bond would have been able to grow to even a mild friendship.

When the two Death Eaters finally pulled apart, Harry was blushing slightly, the pale red tinge colouring his cheeks. Draco, on the other hand, appeared perfectly calm and collected, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Will you leave us alone now?" Draco asked craftily.

"Yes, yes, very well," Dumbledore agreed, more out of shock than anything else. He turned around and left the room, intent on informing the others of this startling new development. He summoned Professors Snape and McGonagall to his office and told them in short words what he had seen.

"Harry Potter and... Malfoy?" McGonagall asked incredulously. "You can't possibly expect us to believe that."

"Indeed," Snape added, "why would a Slytherin love a foolhardy Gryffindor?"

"Why would a Gryffindor sink to love a Slytherin?" McGonagall shot back with a pointed glare.

"I doubt that they hold themselves to their House loyalties still," Dumbledore pointed out. "They are both now fighting on the same side of this war. This new turn of events has an unforeseen advantage, however. I have the feeling that one would do anything for the other, especially Draco. We can use that to help our cause."

"There may be hope left, Dumbledore," McGonagall breathed, not daring to speak too loudly in case the small hope might be torn away from her clutching grasp. "This could mean that he is not completely evil."

"Indeed, there is still some small chance. If Harry can love even one other person, it means that he may return to the way he was, given time."

"Please," Snape butted in acidly. "Even if some bit of your precious Potter remains, being a Death Eater changes a man irreversibly. He will always have his sins hanging over him. It's like an addiction to alcoholism; no matter how long you remain sober, the risk still remains of having a drink and losing control again. How can you expect him to be reliable when he could regress back to a Dark wizard with little or no provocation?"

"In times like these, Severus, we must make do with what we have. If there is any way to use Harry to our advantage, I will see to it that it is done. I can not allow anything to aid the other side in this war; there is simply too much at stake. If the life of Harry Potter is the cost, then so be it."

After a prolonged session of agony and screaming, his torturers left, chortling to themselves over the entertainment that Harry provided. Harry was not in a merry mood however, as he still lay writhing on the floor from the immense pain.

Slowly, so slow that it seemed to draw out forever, the haze of pain faded and he used his trembling arms to lever himself into a sitting position, slumping back against a rough, cold stone wall. He pulled the remnants of his Quidditch robes tightly around his thin frame, hoping that they would offer some scant warmth. He was sadly mistaken.

After an eternity he was finally opened his eyes, looking at the bright, almost beautiful patterns that the spatters of his blood made against the dark gray of the walls. Looking at one dripping splotch, he could almost make out what looked like a wolf.

He snorted at his own foolishness, but immediately winced in pain when the motion sent fire raging throughout his body. After all he had been through, here he was, stuck in some cell Merlin knows where, driving himself slowly insane. Had he not thought that his blood looked pretty a minute ago? That was disgusting and he shivered from both the cold and the discomfiting thought.

Harry absently ran a pale, thin hand through his long, stringy black hair, pulling the locks in front of his face and scowling at them deeply. He needed a haircut. Aunt Petunia would have a fit if she saw him now. She would probably rush over to him with a razor, insisting that the only way to rid him of that horrid filthy mop of hair was to shave it off altogether.

He smiled slightly at the mental image of his aunt's disgusted face. Maybe, if he survived, he would send her a picture.

Harry turned his head so that his fevered cheek was pressed against the wall. He stared glumly into the shadows at the other side of the room, then started suddenly. Something was in the room!

He scrambled as fast as he could over to the object, examining it as closely as he could without touching it. The ragged shirt could not possibly have been intended for him to wear; there were far more holes than cloth.

His eyes lit up as he realized what this must be. A portkey! Harry did not stop to think about why one would suddenly appear or to even doubt that this was one. He grabbed it and held on firmly, eyes screwed shut and mouth silently working, praying to every deity he knew of that this would work.

Nothing happened. Harry opened his eyes and stared at the scrap of cloth balefully. Still, nothing happened. He wadded the shirt up with both hands and prepared to toss it to the farthest corner of the room, but something stopped him. With a sudden jerk he felt the ground disappear from beneath him and he plummeted forward.