Can't Stop the Poison

Can't Stop the Poison

Chapter Four - Shallow Threats and Empty Promises

By Xenoia Karris

"It's not like you

To say sorry

I'm always waiting for a different story" ---Nickleback, How You Remind Me

Hermione blinked as the door slammed. She heard his footsteps disappear to the left until there was silence, and leant back to sit on one of the desks. That was very peculiar, and she didn't like it at all. She couldn't decide whether or not to trust Draco Malfoy. He's Malfoy. He called her Mudblood, and was cruel about Ron and Harry. He wasn't a nice person. He didn't do good things. Yet here it was, Draco Malfoy offering to help her protect Harry. She frowned as thoughts contorted in her mind. Maybe it was all part of some ingenious, evil plan. But when she looked at the evidence, Malfoy certainly hadn't been himself this year. He looked ill and tired often, and did odd things, didn't talk much, forgot to be annoying. She sighed and stood up, deciding to tell Harry about what had happened.

As she stepped through the portrait hole, she spotted Harry and Ron sitting by the fireplace. They turned to look at her when she stepped through.

"Where have you been?" Ron said, standing up. "We thought someone had kidnapped you to make you do their homework again!" he grinned.

"Don't be stupid, Ron. I was talking to Malfoy." Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. Harry jumped up and they were both at her side in seconds.

"WHAT!!! I'm going to kill him..." Ron began.

"Are you okay? What did he do to you?" Harry asked. Hermione pushed them both back to their chairs, sighing.

"Didn't you listen to what I said?"

"Yes!" Ron yelled, getting up again. "Malfoy was definitely in that sentence."

"Ron! Sit down! I said I was talking to him. Not he was trying to kill me."

"Same thing," Ron muttered. She seated herself next to Harry, close to the fire.

"I was going to tell you what he said."

"Go on then," Harry said, looking disinterested.

"He told me he thinks that Dr. Pickering is the one writing those letters to you."

"WHAT!" Harry yelled. " That lying little bastard! He told me he didn't know! I'm going to find him, and I'm going to punch him."

"Yeah! About time too! Beat him to the ground!" Ron said. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"I think someone already has." Harry quieted.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"I mean someone has already been knocking him about. I don't know who, but he doesn't look good."

"Oh. Well...I'm still going to kill him for lying to me."

"Oh Harry, give him a break, his mum died in the summer..." she stopped, immediately regretting what she said. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"So? My parents have been dead for years, I don't hear you asking people to give me a break!" he said, a bitter tone in his voice that surprised Hermione.

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

"Then perhaps you should explain yourself a little more!"

"What is wrong with you, Harry? I haven't done anything! I was only trying to help you know, I wanted to help find out who was writing the stupid letters to you!"

"Er...calm down guys," Ron said, stepping between them. "I really don't think Hermione meant any harm, Harry."

"Quiet Ron!" She said. She knew it wasn't fair, but she continued anyway. "All I do is worry about you! I only want you to be safe, Harry! And you don't appreciate it at all anymore..."

"Of course I do!"

"No, you expect Ron and I to be here when you get back from wherever it is you go without us, and you expect us to have all the answers! We can only help you if you let us, Harry!"

"You don't understand!" Harry yelled, turning to look out of the window. Hermione could see under his glasses, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was more untidy than usual. He looked...there was no other word for it; strained. Hermione knew there was something he was not telling her, or Ron.

"Then explain, Harry," she said, more softly, approaching him. He sighed and leant against the window ledge, the gentle starlight haloing him as he turned to face Hermione and Ron. Outwards, he shone brightly, but his figure was a black silhouette.

"You can't understand. You just...can't," he said. He left the window and walked away towards the dormitory, pausing as Hermione spoke.

"We never will unless you talk to us!" she said, her voice a desperate whisper. He did not respond, but disappeared up the dormitory stairs, closing the door behind him. Hermione felt a wave of misery sweep through her. She and Harry hardly ever argued, and she fought to keep back the tears, but they flowed freely anyway. She broke down into angry sobs as Ron came and put an arm around her shoulders. She leant against him.

"Come on, don't cry, Hermione. Harry's just...a little tense. He'll be okay."

"But...but," she stopped. It wasn't coming. The tears continued for some time, Ron always comforting her until finally she felt she could speak.

"I don't think he is okay, Ron. He's so miserable all the time. I'm worried about him; he never talks to me anymore."

"No, me neither, but we need to give him space. If we don't he'll just get angry again. I know it's hard, but I think this is his way of dealing with things."

"I know, but sometimes he acts normal, and others he's just unreachable. I only want to help." She looked at Ron, who sighed and gazed across the room to the dormitory stairs, a sudden bleakness in his warm eyes.

"Yeah, me too."

***

Harry sat on his bed in silence, the curtains drawn around him. He rested his head on his knees and clamped his hands around his shins, a small piece of parchment scrunched up in his fist. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was only 9 o'clock. He sighed. A breath so deep it felt like his last. He supposed he had been wrong to yell at Hermione, she really wasn't doing anything wrong, but he couldn't tell them what he thought. Harry knew that whoever was sending his the threats was in league with Voldemort. Whoever they were, they knew how best to get to him. Through his friends. He had seriously contemplated leaving Hogwarts to protect them, but knew that would only lead them to follow him. Really, there was little he could do, and that was what frustrated him the most. He lay back and stared at the roof of his bed for a long while, thinking.

The dormitory door opened some time later and Harry heard Ron's voice.

"Harry? Are you awake?" Harry ignored him, pretending to be asleep. "Harry?"

"Go to bed, Ron, he's asleep!" Neville said. Harry heard Ron sigh and flop down onto his own bed. 10.30. Soon he could leave. He reached carefully underneath his bed, trying to keep quiet, and pulled out the invisibility cloak. There was no harm in being early. He peered through a small gap in his curtains. Both Neville and Ron had theirs shut. He threw the cloak over himself and slid off the bed, creeping out of the dormitory and down the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones as best he could.

Soon, he was out of the common room and free wandering in the castle. The years of secret wandering he had done had left him light-footed and swift. He hurried down corridors and walked through quiet halls. There was no one around at this time. Time ticked quickly by and he began to make the ascent to the owlery, when he heard footsteps coming down the narrow stairs. He leapt back against the wall, and held in a gasp as Dr. Pickering passed him, completely unaware of Harry's presence. His footsteps disappeared and Harry breathed out, taking a few minutes to ensure there definitely was silence again. Maybe Malfoy was telling the truth for once. Harry continued up the last few steps and pushed the door gently open. A smile crossed his invisible face as he saw Sirius standing by the window, his dark hair blowing gently as the wind swirled in the high rafters.

Harry pulled the cloak off and Sirius turned to smile at him.

"Hello Harry. Alright?"

"Yes, you?" he said automatically. Sirius' smile faltered.

"I'm fine, though I don't believe you are, are you?" Harry sighed. He wanted to tell Sirius everything, but then he didn't want him to worry. Apparently his silence had been prolonged.

"Harry? Tell me what's wrong? You're not sick are you? You look tired."

"I am a bit. Tired I mean, not sick. Well, I told you, you know, about the letters."

"Yes, what about them? Did you find out who is sending them?"

"No. Yes. No."

"Harry. Did you, or did you not?"

"Sort of. Well, I didn't exactly tell you everything about them." Sirius raised a disapproving eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

"Oh no?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell me now?"

"They were...er...death threats."

"What? Harry!" he fixed him with a piercing stare, a slightly shocked stare. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew you would be worried," Harry protested turning to face the door.

"I think I have the right to worry, don't you?" Harry said nothing. "Do you have any of the letters with you?" Sirius came to stand behind Harry, who lifted the parchment he had brought from his pocket and handed it to him. Sirius was silent for a long time, and it made Harry very uncomfortable. He turned around to see Sirius had gone to stand back by the window, his face lit by the moonlight. His face was clearly full of concern, and a little annoyance.

"Who knows?" Sirius asked, looking Harry in the eye.

"Only Hermione and Ron. Oh, and er...Malfoy knows too."

"Malfoy? The Malfoy boy? I thought you hated him."

"I do. I did. I still do. I don't know what to think. I needed to talk to you about that. He said to...to Hermione that he thinks Dr. Pickering is the one sending me these notes."

"Really? Did he say why?" Harry felt himself turn slightly pink.

"Er...I don't know. I kind of...yelled at her after that."

"Why?"

"I don't really know. She thinks Malfoy has changed you know," he said as he leant against a wooden post. "She thinks something horrible is wrong with him. You know, his mum was murdered this summer."

"Yeah," Sirius said weakly, " I did hear that. I also heard the Lucius Malfoy was imprisoned, and escaped."

"Yeah."

"Do you feel sorry for him?"

"No! Well, maybe a bit. I still think he's a complete prat though. Hermione seems to think he's changed a lot. When we were in potions the other day, he...we messed up this melting potion we were making, and he basically pushed me and Hermione out of the way when it exploded. I just...can't believe he has changed. He's given me, Ron and Hermione so much grief over the last six year. Especially Ron, I just don't believe it. He's Malfoy."

"No, he's a Malfoy. Just like you are a Potter. But a name doesn't make you who you are, Harry. I thought you of all people would understand that." Harry looked Sirius in the eye, he felt oddly as if Sirius was telling him he was disappointed in him. However, after that he smiled.

"Maybe you should take Hermione's advice Harry, and listen to this Malfoy kid. A Malfoy acting oddly is a strange thing. I knew Lucius, and he is not a nice person. I don't know why Narcissa married him."

"You knew them both as well?"

"Vaguely. Slytherins. The Malfoy family has always been very, very wealthy. Lucius was brought up in a way that led him to treat everything, and everyone as a possession or tool. Something for his use, or his pleasure."

"Do you think he'd, er...hurt Malfoy? Draco, do you?"

"He might. Why?"

"Hermione said someone had beaten him up."

"Really? Well, since you are now going to go and tell Dumbledore everything, I suggest you voice your concerns for Draco as well." Sirius ushered him to the door as he muttered, "Hermione's concerns."

"Whatever. Now go to Dumbledore now. He is expecting you."

"He is?"

"Yes. If you don't go he will probably come and find you." Sirius grinned. Harry smiled back.

"Thanks, Sirius. See you soon?"

"I'll see you when I can. Don't forget to owl me."

"I won't." Harry slipped the cloak back over his head and strolled down the stairs, making his way to Dumbledore's office.

As Harry waited outside Dumbledore's office he felt a little easier, as if some of the weight had been lifted from him. He was always glad to talk to Sirius, but whenever there was a problem, it always made him feel so much better. The office door opened and Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes fixing on Harry.

"Do come in and sit down, Harry," he said. The room was warm and the flickering candles made it look inviting. Harry stepped through the door and Dumbledore went back to the seat behind his desk. It was only then Harry realised someone else was standing by the desk. He felt some of his slight dread return as the blonde head turned to face him. Malfoy did look very pale, even in this light, and Harry could see he had a bruise on his cheek, his lip had been bleeding recently too. His pupils were dilated, making him look young and innocent without the icy malevolence of his grey gaze. He turned away without a word, back to staring at the bookshelf by the desk. Harry came closer and stood by the desk too, leaving a gap between himself and Malfoy.

"Harry, as you have noticed I have another visitor. I was just trying to convince Mr. Malfoy here to explain to me why he is looking so sick." Dumbledore looked at Malfoy's back as he responded.

"There is nothing wrong with me, Professor." His voice was flat, and quiet.

"Yes, Draco. So having a black eye is normal for you? And, if I may be frank; you look about to collapse."

"I am not!" he said, spinning to face Dumbledore. He glanced at Harry his expression suddenly blank. "I won't speak about it, especially not with him here." At that Harry blinked. That was admission; there was something wrong.

"Well, Draco I need you here as well, for what I wanted to talk to Harry about."

"Why? He's nothing to do with me."

"Harry, I believe Sirius sent you here?" Harry stared at Dumbledore, mouth slightly open. Malfoy couldn't know about Sirius. Apparently he had waited too long.

"Harry? It's okay, Draco here can hear this."

"Yes, he did."

"Then I know why you are here. About the letters isn't it?"

"Yes," said Harry, feeling increasingly more stupid as Malfoy stood, silently contemplating him. "I showed them to Sirius, and he said that maybe," Harry glanced back at Malfoy, "maybe Hermione was right to trust what Malfoy said."

"And Draco, what did you say?"

"Er...that I think I know who is responsible for the letters."

"Who?"

"You won't believe me."

"Tell me anyway."

"Fine. It's Dr. Pickering. He's a Death Eater. He knows where my Father is, and what he's planning."

"Do you?" At this question, Harry noticed Draco tense. He closed his eyes and leant against the table as though he had become dizzy.

"No. I don't know what they want. But if I had to guess, I'd say they went to the Manor...please, I don't feel so good. Can I go?" he started to leave.

"Just one final thing Draco." Draco turned back, and looked at Dumbledore, who was looking very gravely over his glasses, his twinkling blue eyes seeming to search Draco for something. "Tell Madam Pomfrey, she might be able to help." Draco stared obstinately back and said, "I'd rather no one else knew," he turned and left the office, closing the door slightly harder than was necessary. Harry watched for a moment after, and then sat down in front of Dumbledore at the desk.

"Professor?"

"Please, Harry, don't ask me to tell you what is wrong with Mr. Malfoy. For a start, I don't think he told me the half of it, and I believe in the end, you will find out on your own. He will tell you."

"He will? I doubt that."

"You may not like him, but he is not an easy person to understand. Anyway, this is beside the point. I didn't want to see you to talk about Draco. Not directly. I wanted to talk about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, Harry. I expect you have realised by now that nothing can be done to stop Voldemort trying to reach you. But at least we can make sure he fails. Now, you know that he has something to do with these letters. I believe your friend Draco may have been right, and I was a fool not to see it. Pickering is a danger."

"He's not my friend," Harry muttered quietly as Dumbledore got up and began to pace.

"Not a friend you say? Perhaps you should then question why not, he has helped you Harry, at his own risk."

"Yeah, I know. Hermione, she thinks he's changed, that something is wrong with him. But, Professor, don't you think it's a bit weird, him helping me? His dad probably wants to kill me as much as Voldemort."

"Lucius Malfoy should be in Azkaban. He is quite mad. Unfortunately, it seems he has escaped. The Dementors see him as a...and I put this term lightly, 'friend.' I'm not sure what strange goings on will effect us Harry, but be certain that you will be protected along with everyone else." Harry felt a sudden lurch inside him. Maybe Dumbledore could protect him, but he couldn't protect everyone else from him. Before he knew it he had blurted out what he had been feeling for some time.

"I'm worried that this time they don't want me, they want to get at me by hurting my friends. Can you...can you protect them from me?" Dumbledore looked kindly over the rim of his glasses. He looked tired, and old as Harry had never seen him before, as though something was greatly troubling him. A problem he could not solve.

"Harry. I can only try to do anything, but indeed I will try to keep everyone safe, you especially since you are one of the few people left who has the power to destroy Voldemort." Harry wanted to inquire further, but they were interrupted by a knock, and the office door opening. Madam Pomfrey entered looking very flustered, and so Harry got up and pointed, "I'll go," he said, making his way towards the door. He heard Dumbledore sigh as he walked slowly down the stairs, hoping to hear a little of what Madam Pomfrey had to say, but unfortunately the door closed filtered out any of the conversation he might have heard.

***

Ginny had been sleeping. The trip was long. The group were to be staying in Belgium for a while, and their accommodation was in a small Wizarding community on the higher ground. They had Flooed in to one of the larger towns and had to take carriages up to their apartments. Suddenly, she felt a wave of cold and sat up straight. Yvonne and Sarina were playing Exploding Snap, and obviously had not felt it. Ginny shuddered. She looked out of the window and saw the sky was full of heavy grey clouds, and the darkness seemed to fade the edges of her vision.

"Some...some..." she tried to speak, but she felt dizzy and confused.

"Ginny?" Sarina said. She and Yvonne came over.

"What's wrong?" Yvonne said, "You don't look so well, shall we..."

"No! Don't stop! Something's wrong!" she yelled, feeling the cold even more. She looked up to see Yvonne staring out of the window, her eyes wide with shock. Ginny looked up to see black figures descending on the convoy. She gasped and leapt up, opening the carriage door and jumping out. Others were doing the same, yelling, collapsing, screaming...

In the frenzy, Ginny saw Yvonne and Sarina jump out of the carriage next to her, and Sarina froze as one of the black figures drew a wand on her. It was obvious now that these people were Death Eaters. People were hurrying back and forth trying to get to their friends, pulling out their wands for some vague hope of protection. Ginny turned to see more black figures gracefully edging closer, their rattling breath turning her blood cold. Dementors. She couldn't watch as they attacked people she knew. It seemed like the world had slowed down, and Yvonne and Ginny ran back towards Sarina, but Ginny felt someone grab her from behind. She turned and saw it was Seamus.

"Ginny! Come on!" he shouted, pulling her away.

"Sarina..." she said. Seamus was suddenly thrust away from her and she screamed as a dark figure approached and grabbed hold of her arm. She bit down hard on the hand that had clamped itself around her arm and heard Yvonne screech as Sarina crumpled at her feet, and she collapsed, sobbing as Ginny struggled to free herself.

"Yvonne!" she yelled. But she didn't hear her, "Seamus!" no one heard her. She felt something shock her body and a hazy calm was followed by blackness as she collapsed feeling herself hit the cold floor.

***

When Harry woke in the morning he felt as if someone had piled bricks on top of him in the night. His limbs felt filled with lead, and his mind was fairly similar. He sat up are reached for his glasses, slowly rising and stepping out of bed. He yawned and stretched, thinking perhaps he should tell Ron and Hermione about his midnight discussions as he made his way to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting in the common room reading. Ron soon joined him, but Hermione didn't come down straight away. When she did, she took one look at Harry and turned around. He jumped up, throwing the book aside.

"Hermione! Wait, please." He walked across the room to her and she paused.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you yesterday. I was...I was just tired, and angry."

"With me?" she asked, coming down a step.

"No, just with the whole situation." He sighed. "With myself." He looked down, letting his hair fall across his face so he couldn't see if she still looked angry and hurt with him. She put a hand on his shoulder and walked down the remaining steps.

"You don't need to be angry with yourself, Harry. You have no reason to." Harry smiled, pressing down the thoughts that he had every reason to feel that way so she wouldn't know. She was talking to him again, and that was what mattered.

They three of them made their way back down to breakfast, chatting as usual, and Harry told them about his talk with Sirius, and then with Dumbledore.

"So, I think you're right, Hermione. Something is wrong with Malfoy. He basically admitted to it. Indirectly of course," he said.

"Hmm, I wonder if that could have anything to do with the time turner," she mused. Ron blinked.

"Malfoy has a time turner? That's a bad thing, no?"

"Well, not necessarily. It might not work. But if he uses it, that is both illegal and dangerous," Hermione said, sounding much like she was quoting a textbook. Harry shook his head.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "He looked more...physically ill." Harry paused; the students were all being ushered into the hall quickly by the teachers, all of whom were looking very grave indeed. Harry felt a quiver of panic. He, Ron and Hermione hurried towards their table and sat. There was a murmur of confusion spreading across the hall when Harry spotted Dumbledore cross the stage to stand in the middle. He sighed. Harry could see no trace of a twinkle in his eye, or a perhaps a light-hearted smile and the panic started to rise. Dumbledore gestured for silence, and the hall fell deadly quiet.

"Students, it is my very grave responsibility to inform you. There has been a tragedy. Though it is against some good advice, I will once again, not keep from you something that you have the rights to know. The Belgium trip organised for some of the sixth and seventh years has been attacked." He paused as a tremor of distress ran through the hall. Harry saw Ron tense at his side. It silenced again and Dumbledore continued. "It was Lord Voldemort who did this. I am afraid to report that many are dead. Those who are injured are being cared for, and will be brought home later today. I am truly sorry to bring you this news. We do not know who the casualties are, and if they are from this school or another. The Belgian officials did tell us that there are few survivors, and to assume there will be no one returning." He paused again to wait for the hall experienced a moment of angry hissing whispers before it silenced.

"It is also my unfortunate duty to inform you that Mr. Fudge, the Minister for Magic has been murdered. We do not yet know who will be taking his place, but I must warn everyone, that the Ministry is full of Voldemort's operatives. It is unlikely we will get a Minister who will help the situation." Dumbledore stepped back to indicate he was finished speaking, and the muffled sobs and troubled whispers rose to a loud murmur. Hermione was staring at the front of the hall, white with shock, but Ron suddenly jumped out of his seat, knocking several things over and strode purposefully across the hall. At first Harry didn't know what he was doing, but he and Hermione both realised when they saw who he was heading for. They glanced at each other and jumped up to follow him.

"Harry, we have to stop him!" Hermione said as she ran alongside Harry. Ron grabbed Draco Malfoy's robes and pulled him round to face him. Draco looked shocked at first, and then his usual look of contempt found its way onto his face. This wasn't really the time to be irritating Ron though, as he punched Malfoy round the face and lunged after him.

"Give it me, Malfoy, NOW!" Ron yelled, apparently trying to knock Draco unconscious. They tumbled to the floor, and people parted so not to get in the crossfire. Draco however, was not giving up and didn't take being attacked lightly. Ron pinned him to the floor, his hands tightening around Draco's arms. His nails scratched against the cuts and the blood began to trickle down his arms.

"I don't know what the hell you want Weasley, so why don't you just piss off!" Harry heard him hiss. Harry and Hermione grabbed hold of Ron and pulled him away. He was kicking and punching, and yelling.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione shouted as he desperately fought her. Draco stood up, his lip was bleeding again, and he now had a bloody nose too. Ron struggled still, though he was watching as Draco clutched his bleeding arm, looking at the blood on his fingers and back up at Ron.

"He's got it!" he said through gritted teeth, "He's got it! I have to go! Go back and stop her leaving!" his face was full of an anguished sort of triumph. As though he knew what he had to do, but something was stopping him doing it.

"Ron, what are you talking about, stop fighting us!" Harry said. Ron hardly listened.

"I want to go back. Let go of me, Harry! I can save her. He's got it, the time turner." At this Draco's face changed from being blank in an instant as a flash of panic seemed to cross him. He glanced around quickly, then stepped forwards and pulled Ron from the room, Harry and Hermione still holding his arms back.

Draco slammed the classroom door, letting go of Weasley. Harry and Hermione pushed Ron down in a chair. He was still seething, but now, so was Draco.

"You idiot, Weasley! You absolute idiot! How the fuck do you know about that?" he said, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to keep it level.

"We know you've got a time turner Malfoy, we've seen you wearing it," Hermione said.

"Oh, so you thought you'd go shouting it out and get me put in Azkaban, did you?" Harry saw that beneath his anger, Malfoy was concerned that they had found out. He must have been concealing something.

"No, we weren't going to tell anyone, Malfoy," he said calmly. "I don't know why you've got it, and that's nothing to do with me..."

"Malfoy!" Ron interrupted, "just let me have the time turner. I don't care what you did with it. I need it!" His voice had softened, and he was sitting calmly in the chair now. There was a desperate tone to it that made Harry ache. He didn't want to see Ron hurt, and he knew that if Ginny was dead, it was his fault. He stepped closer to Draco.

"Malfoy, please, let us have it." Harry stared at him, his tired eyes surveying each of them separately, lingering on Ron as though he was trying to fathom why he was so desperate to take it.

"I can't," Draco finally said. He turned away and Ron jumped up. Before Harry could stop him, he had pushed Draco to the floor and had hold of the front of his robes.

"WEASLEY, GET OFF ME!" Draco yelled, "It won't work you idiot!"

"What the hell do you mean it won't work? You broke it didn't you, you bastard!" he smacked Draco's head against the floor as Harry pulled him backwards.

"Calm down, Ron!" he shouted. Harry knew that this was something very difficult to handle, but that didn't mean he would let Ron beat people up to vent his anger. Especially not Malfoy right now, he already looked sick and weak and the cuts on his arms looked deeper than ever. Harry glanced at Draco's unmoving form. Ron had knocked him unconscious. Hermione had started to sob silently in the corner, furiously biting at her nails. She was staring at the blood flowing freely from Draco's wounds and muttering under her sobs, "Ron..." Ron seemed to calm a little, and he and Harry went to comfort her. Ron hugged her, and apologised for his overreaction, and started whispering soothing words to her. Harry, wanting very much to comfort Hermione too, went back over to Malfoy. It was hard to believe the boy was capable of such hatred when awake. Just watching him lying motionless, as though asleep made him look peaceful. There were no cold, glaring eyes, or defensive walls to hide behind, he was just himself, unguarded. Harry turned away.

"Ron? Perhaps we should, er...move Malfoy." Harry saw a fragment of the anger flash across Ron's face and he looked down at him in disgust.

"Bastard. He doesn't care. I should kill him while he's asleep."

"Ron, he's not asleep, he's unconscious, and by the look of him you almost have killed him," Harry said, unaware his voice sounded slightly scathing.

"Fine." Ron said. Hermione looked up at him.

"Go on, Ron" she said, wiping away the tears. "I'll go back to the Common Room and wait for you both. And don't steal it." Ron sighed. "Please," she added. Her eyes, filled with tears and a pleading look were too much to refuse.

"Okay, okay," Ron said as he walked to Harry and Hermione walked out of the room. Harry thought Ron was going to kick Malfoy as he walked past, but he didn't. He waited for Harry to move, and they picked Malfoy up, ready to leave, when Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall came through the door. They froze and a nasty smile spread over Snape's face as his eyes surveyed Harry (with much dislike), Ron and Malfoy.

"Well, well," he said, raising an eyebrow. The sly smile spread and Harry found himself wanting to smack Snape round the face.

"What do we have here? What happened to Mr. Malfoy, then? And where are you taking him?" Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking ready to kill.

"Er...fell and hit his head?" Harry said weakly. Ron sighed.

"I punched him in the face, Professor. Because he's a complete and utter prat, and I hate his guts, and my sister has just been killed and he was mocking me and..."

"That's enough Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall said, raising her voice slightly. She looked at Harry and Ron over the top of her spectacles, a stern look in her eyes.

"I realise this is not an easy thing to deal with, but that is no excuse for such behaviour. 10 points from Gryffindor, and a detention for you both." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron kicked him. Snape was looking dangerous, and would likely agree with, and add to the punishment McGonagall had issued if he spoke. Snape moved out of the way.

"Take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing then," he said silkily. Harry glared at him before he and Ron stalked out of the room, Harry cursing Snape and muttering with indignation at being punished for something Ron did.

Once they had dropped Malfoy off at the hospital wing, Ron suddenly decided he was going to leave.

"I have to go home," he said, hurrying down the corridor.

"You can't, Ron," Harry said, knowing this would only make Ron angry. Ron however, sighed.

"I know you don't understand, Harry," he began. Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. "I...think my sister...my sister..." he stuttered. Harry let it go, and steered Ron back towards the tower. He knew he was one of the few people who would understand what Ron was feeling, but Ron was full of confused emotions.

When they entered Gryffindor tower, Hermione was sat by the fire, silent tears still dripping down her face. Harry knew why. Not only was she good friends with Ginny, and so felt Ron's loss, but Seamus had also been on the trip. Ron sat down next to her and put a hand on hers. She looked up at him, and he put his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against him. Harry looked on, his heart aching for them. All his life, he had known what it was like to have an empty space that could not be filled, but those years of misery, before Hogwarts had taught him to deal with it. Ron, from a big family, a close family had always had one thing Harry had not. Love. Harry hated the Dursleys, and they were his only living relatives. He hated his family. Hermione was an only child, and so she was showered with love from her parents, always over-protective of their only child. Harry had none of that, no protection. He could deal with pain, but watching his friends suffer for what he couldn't help was too much. He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, to make his friends feel pain. He looked away as the soft glow from the fire made the tears on Hermione's face shine like the angry skin that surrounds a scar. And they were the marks of a deeper, inner scar that would never heal. Harry eyes fell onto Ron. His best friend sat staring at the flickering fire as though it had him hypnotised. This is my doing he thought miserably, turning to go back through the portrait hole.

He didn't know what drove him, but he wandered the castle for nearly an hour. Especially the highest floors, right up to the Astronomy tower so he could think about what had happened and he eventually ended up back in his thinking place. The room with the window ledge he could sit on.

***

When Draco woke up, he was lying on a bed in the hospital wing, his head pounding. He sat up slowly, eyes closed to try and ignore the dizziness that was making the world around him swim in and out of focus. He blinked several times and saw Madam Pomfrey approaching.

"Awake are you?" she said sharply. She came right up to him and pulled his chin up so he was facing her. She surveyed him quickly and then turned away.

"You can go now. Your cuts and bruises are all but healed. There is a potion for you on the table." She turned to walk away and paused, looking back at him, "Oh, and I would advise you to stop cutting yourself..." Draco was about to protest but she silenced him with a look. "I am not stupid, I have seen it before, and I don't want to have to involve anyone else. It isn't the answer, whatever your problems may be." She held his gaze for a moment and then walked away towards her office, heels clicking harshly on the tiled floor. Draco scowled at her back and slid gently off the bed. He picked up the flask of potion and left, not wanting to be in the hospital any longer this year.

He strolled down the dark, empty corridors wishing vaguely that the aching in his head would go away. I'm going to kill Weasley he thought. That attack was completely unprovoked. Plus, the idiot had almost revealed to everyone that he had a time turner. Never a good thing when it was completely illegal. He rounded a corner, thoughts still with the time turner when he jumped back. Dr. Pickering was waiting there. The candle light behind him made the shadows on his face heavy and his eyes perfectly black like obsidian. The pricks of light touched those eyes, making him look all the more like a madman.

"Hello Draco," he said, his voice smooth and soft. Draco wanted to leave.

"You told them anyway," he said. Dr. Pickering took away his gaze, occupying himself with a painting on the opposite wall.

"So did you," he said simply. Draco felt a stab of irritation.

"You told my father about what you found in Borgin and Burkes! Lying bastard," he gave him a disgusted look and moved to walk past, but Pickering held out an arm to stop him.

"No, Draco. You broke our deal first."

"I did not!"

"Well, it matters not. They know now, and when they see you again, they will not be happy."

"I've already seen them!" he found himself shouting. "They made me...they..." he couldn't say it. He swayed briefly, nausea washing over him. He didn't want to remember. He let out a frustrated sigh and pushed past Pickering, hurrying down the corridor. When he reached the door at the end of it, he heard Pickering's voice again, soft and malevolent as always.

"You know Draco, you really ought to sort out your allegiances. Your father, he's been appointed Minister for Magic, don't you know?" Draco froze. He turned slowly back to look at Pickering, but all he could see was the back of his robe, his hood up, the dark figure silhouetted in the candlelight like a shadow.

"No," he whispered, staring at the black robe. Though he couldn't see his face he knew he was smiling.

"Oh yes, yes Draco, I'm telling you the complete truth." He turned to face Draco, and for a moment he raised his black eyes to Draco's wide silver ones. In that instant Draco realised he was telling the truth, and he span round striding through the door, slamming it behind him.

He walked about the castle, mind ablaze in panic. Lucius Malfoy had been elected Minister. That was a terrible thing. Terrible, terrible misfortune. Draco knew it'd not be long before he had to see his father again. After last time, he really had hoped that he would never see the bastard again. That possibility was now a very unlikely option. He was filled with a sudden dread and had to stop to lean on the wall. His head was spinning with pain. The aching had intensified, probably due to more stressful news. He took three deep breaths and walked the remaining few paces to the door of the room he was looking for. However, he was surprised to see Harry Potter sat on his window ledge, gazing out at the turbulent sky. He stared for a few moments, then Harry turned and looked at him. He did not look surprised to see Draco there. And, Draco soon found that he wasn't angered by this intrusion as he thought he might have been. Instead, he walked over to a desk and sat on it next to the large window, leaning against the wall. He glanced at Harry, who was looking at his trainers, his head leaning on his knees.

"Still alive then, Malfoy?" he said after a few moments.

"Yeah," Draco said, leaning his head against the wall, closing his eyes to blank out the world. "No thanks to Weasley, though," he said, knowing there was a bitterness in his voice that surpassed that incident. Harry obviously detected this, as he looked up.

"It's not Ron's fault you know. He's just angry. His sister, Ginny, she was on that trip." Draco sighed, in a way, he felt sorry for Weasley. But he hated Weasley too, so his sympathy was only really pity.

"I know she was," he said after a moment's silence. "I saw her in the dungeons yesterday." Suddenly, both seemed to realise they were talking rationally to their enemy. They held each other's gaze for a second and then looked away. Harry looked back out of the window, as Draco looked at the ceiling. He didn't know what Harry was thinking about, his face was lost in the stars, but he knew that from that look he was mulling something over. Something he really didn't want to have to think about. If he had looked at Draco he would have seen a similar expression, for Draco was absent-mindedly staring at the plain ceiling, trying to settle an inner conflict.

He was still Draco Malfoy, he didn't want to be friends with Potter, he was a Gryffindor. More than anything in the world, he wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before. Him living at home, with his mother and father, content being what he was, hating Potter and his precocious Gryffindor idiots. Malacia alive, Voldemort gone, everything was as he liked it back then. It was simple; he had a clear enemy, Potter. Now, he wasn't so sure. Potter was not his enemy. His father was, Voldemort was, Pickering was. All the people he had respected in his life, feared, and been willing to make the effort to impress, all those people had turned on him. He hated them for it.

He turned back to Harry, who had in fact been watching him for some time now.

"Potter," he said uncertainly.

"What?" Harry said, his gaze unfaltering.

"My father has been appointed Minister for Magic." Harry's face flashed through several emotions: suspicion, disbelief, panic, before finally settling on confusion.

"Why?" he said. Draco stared.

"Why what?" he said. Harry seemed to be losing it, or perhaps the shock had rendered him inarticulate. Though, that was quite understandable. "I expect because Voldemort had a lot of people in the Ministry..."

"No, not that. Why are you telling me this? I don't understand."

"I..." he paused. Why was he telling Harry this? He didn't owe him anything. He felt his gaze harden as his inner self reverted back to its insular, bitter way. "Good question. I don't know what the hell I bothered for," he said, jumping off the table. His mind was on getting out of the room, and back to his bed, but he was stopped by a hand on his arm. Harry was holding him back. Draco felt the warmth of Harry's touch on his cold skin, and glanced from his gentle touch to his soft, searching eyes.

"Thanks Malfoy," he said. "And sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Draco stopped. His mind ached from the confusion. Harry's quiet voice and sympathetic touch lingered in the extended moment. His voice was filled with sadness. Underneath what he spoke, there was something there that no one could reach out and heal. Draco knew, because he had it too. In that moment, for once he understood what Harry Potter stood for, and what he really was. And, what that was doing to him inside.

"It's...okay," he said awkwardly. Their eyes were still locked, a silent understanding crossing between them. Harry seeing for the first time, that Draco was only the way he was because it was all that he knew, and now he was trying to break free from that, but he couldn't. He would never get away from who he was in the past; it was part of who he was now and always would be. Draco seeing that Harry didn't choose what he had, and he paid dearly for it now. He had no family, something Draco had always used as a source of antagonism, but now he had those around him he loved like family, they were suffering because of who he was. If he didn't know them, they'd be safe. It was as though each could see through the other for a brief moment in time, and finally understand what they had ignored for seven years.

Draco turned away, breaking loose of Harry's grip. It was wrong. Very wrong. Draco and Harry could not be friends. Draco had something that Harry did not. Though Harry may have had an inner turmoil Draco could not fully understand, because there was no one he cared about that much anymore, Draco had hatred. A bitter, repressed fury that he could never purge entirely. And that was why he walked away. Potter was not his friend. He never would be.

The next morning, the school was very silent at breakfast. There were still people sobbing gently, and comforting their friends, receiving owls from their families. Draco walked to his seat at the Slytherin table and stared at his plate. He distractedly pulled the crusts off his piece of toast, covering his fingers in greasy butter and spreading crumbs all over the table, and to some extent onto himself. His mind was elsewhere, when Crabbe poked him.

"Are you going to eat that?" he said, eyeing the demolished toast greedily. Draco gave him a patronising look and pushed the plate towards him. "Thanks," Crabbe said and he stuffed it hungrily into his mouth. Crabbe and Goyle had noticed something was wrong with Draco, but when they asked and got shouted at, they went back to merely keeping an eye on him, as though they were his bodyguards. Draco flicked the crumbs away, across the table. He was trying to tell himself sternly to stop thinking about Harry Potter. His mind was firmly lost in the events of the previous night, unable to decide if it was a good or bad thing.

Suddenly, there was a great scuffling as chairs scraped back and students grabbed their bags to head off to lessons. He heaved himself from his seat and set off towards his class. Unfortunately, this class was Defence Against the Dark Arts. He, Crabbe and Goyle set off for class amongst the streams of other, miserable students. They pushed out of the Great Hall and off up the stairs to wait outside the classroom. Dr. Pickering was usually a little late.

Draco stood leaning uneasily against the wall, watching as Harry and his friends came up the stairs. They leant against the banister. Weasley was talking animatedly to Granger. She looked tired, and sad, but interested all the same. Harry however stared at the floor for most of the while. He still had the mark of a discontent frown across his brow. He looked up for a second, staring Draco in the eye, and then they both looked away. Draco returned to staring at the wall.

"You can go in, class," Dr. Pickering said as he appeared behind Harry on the staircase. Draco felt Pickering glance at him. He didn't want to look into that snide face again and see those empty black eyes boring holes into him. So he followed his Slytherin friends into the room, and sat at the back in the hope he could avoid Pickering.

When the bell rang an hour later, he thought he had managed it.

"Draco, can I please see you now," Pickering called over the mad shuffling that ensued. He sighed and dragged himself up and to the front where he stood in front of Pickering's desk, a defiant look on his face. Pickering waited until everyone else had left the room and then smiled at Draco.

"I have a gift for you, Draco," he said.

"Oh, goody. Is it a Muggle to torture?" he said, glaring at the professor. Pickering's smile became strained.

"You really ought to learn to control that mouth, it'll get you into trouble. Here," he thrust a roll of parchment into Draco's hand. It was sealed with black wax and the Malfoy crest. It was from his father. "Have fun," Pickering said, leaning back in his chair and watching as Draco slowly opened the note, walking away.

'Dear Draco,

I'm sure the news that I am now the new Minister has reached you. I hope you are happy. And I hope you have learnt something from our last meeting...' Draco laughed mirthlessly, bitterness escaping into the laugh. 'I am happy to inform you that I am removing you from that pathetic school. You will return to the Manor later today. I will collect you.

Lucius Malfoy.'

Draco stared. He had only walked about two metres from Dr. Pickering's room and he stopped dead. He didn't want to go home, he couldn't go home. He felt panicky and shoved the note into his pocket. He couldn't go home just yet. His father knew it was he who had put him into Azkaban.

He forced his shaky legs to move, and started to hurry down the corridor, yanking the chain from around his neck. It snapped, catching on the skin at the back of his neck, but he didn't care. He rummaged in his pockets, knowing there was a small piece of parchment around somewhere that had an address on. As he caught up with the other students wandering towards the main entrance to go to Care of Magical Creatures he spotted Harry. Draco quickly wrapped the chain in the parchment and glanced around the hall. Harry was walking slightly behind Hermione and Ron. Draco flew down the stairs and ran silently towards the door. He was careful to stay behind the pillars, and when Harry walked past, he grabbed his arm and pulled him around, forcing him behind the pillar and putting a hand over his mouth so he couldn't shout. Harry stared at him, green eyes wide with confusion and...fear? Draco waited until the hall went quiet before allowing either of them to move.

"Why the kidnap?" Harry said, his lip curling into a slight smile, but it was gone in a second. Draco glanced around nervously. No one must hear this, or see this.

"I have to give you something, Harry. You have to promise you will give it to Hermione, and not let Ron have it. Promise. I know you hate me, but this is important." He paused, not realising that he sounded not a little insane, and pulled the parchment out of his pocket.

"Give it to Hermione." Draco looked at Harry. His face was a picture of confusion and suspicion as he looked at what Draco was offering him. He took the parchment, looking at it warily, and just by squeezing the package slightly he looked back at Draco.

"This is the..." he paused and glanced over his shoulder too. No one was around. "Time turner," he whispered. Draco nodded and anticipated Harry's next question speaking with an urgency of someone confessing before the end of the world. His sentence came out in one breath almost.

"I wasn't lying when I said it doesn't work. Hermione will understand what to do with it. Please, you have to give it to her. My father has called me out of school, probably for good, and I can't have it when I go home, or he'll be able to use it." His eyes went cold and glittered like fresh frost. His voice was acidic and shuddered as he spoke, " And I won't let him have it." Harry stared back into that icy glare that wasn't aimed at him, returning it with a softer, more pained gaze. He nodded, and Draco felt a weight lift from him. Only a very tiny weight, but it was something of a comfort.

"Okay, I'll give it to her. But only if you promise me something."

"What?"

"That it won't get her into trouble," Harry said. His gaze did not falter, and his serious expression told Draco that he meant that with all his heart. Draco knew that he could not truly make that promise, and he felt his moment of content ebbing away. There was no other choice.

"I promise," he said. Harry nodded, still looking determined, and Draco broke his gaze and turned around. He began to walk away, feeling terrible about lying. But it wasn't guilt; it was more shame. He had got into this mess himself and now he was passing that burden on to someone else as though he couldn't handle it. Though he could hardly do much with it if he died, and he couldn't let it fall into his father's lap. It was the only option.

"Thanks Potter," he muttered as they exited the castle, and paused on the steps. Harry glanced at Draco, who looked back.

"No problem. Good luck Malfoy," he added slightly awkwardly, and they disappeared in opposite directions, Harry to his lesson, and Draco walking to his inevitable doom.

Draco put his hands in his pockets as he walked. His eyes were fixed on the ground as his mind wandered. He soon reached they gates, hoping that Harry kept his promise and gave the time turner to Hermione. He knew Harry to be honourable, but he wasn't sure...Harry wouldn't give her anything he thought harmful. Draco looked up.

"Hello son," Lucius said, his face glowing with a devilish grin. Draco sighed.

"Hello Father," he said quietly. Lucius frowned at him, and folded his cloak around himself.

"To the Mansion, boy," he said, watching Draco Disapparate.

Draco waited, hearing the little pop that registered his father's arrival. He turned and saw Lucius looking livid. Well, he'd expected nothing less. His father had the expression of a madman, as he approached slowly.

"Draco," he said, his voice a malicious whisper. He stopped just in front of Draco. Looking harshly down on him.

"Why did you do it?" he asked flatly. Draco looked him in the eye, one frosty look for another.

"Because I hate you."

"You don't deny it?"

"Is there any point?"

"No. None at all. Well, in that case, give me the time turner."

"No."

"Draco," he said, getting out his wand. His voice was warning. "Give it to me."

"It is broken. I don't have it. I destroyed it." Lucius surveyed his son; Draco could see he was weighing up if that was the truth or not.

"Destroyed it did you? Crucio!" Draco collapsed, biting his lip, trying not to scream. As the stabbing, scraping, ripping pain tore through him, he heard his father's voice hissing in his ear.

"You shouldn't have done that, boy! Tell me the truth!" Draco could barely speak, the pain was blurring his vision, so he looked in his father's general direction, unsure if he was facing him or not, and forced two words.

"I...did..." he spat. Suddenly, the pain was gone and he lay on the cold stone floor, breathless and sweating slightly. His energy was completely drained as he tried to move. He was starting to feel sick again, knowing that he would soon have to face Voldemort again. This time, he had to convince him he was loyal, or he would likely wind up dead. Lucius was pissed off beyond belief, and would probably not bargain for Draco's life a second time. Well, if it came down to it, he thought deep down he would rather live. Now that was something new to him, he couldn't think why, but something inside him told him there was a light, a reason for living. He couldn't think what that was.

"Explain yourself," he heard Lucius say. Draco pushed himself up a little so he could look at his father, his hair falling into his eyes, but he couldn't move to push it away.

"I...only had two...dates calculated," he gasped, still breathing heavily. "It didn't work...anymore. So I destroyed...it."

"Hmm. A wise move, Draco. So no one could hold evidence against you I suspect." Draco nodded. "You would indeed be useful if you could stop this indecision. It's our side, or their side, you know that. There is no in-between." Lucius turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Draco to fall back to the floor, exhausted. His mind was spinning, and his stomach churning. He couldn't tell how he felt, and wanted to lie there forever. He didn't want to make a decision to serve Voldemort, he'd already proven that once. Yet...he didn't want to fight against them either. At the moment he had to confess Voldemort looked like the clear winner in this fight. Though he secretly hoped he wouldn't be. He lay his head down on the stone, the cold cooling his sweaty forehead and he closed his eyes to blank out the world for a little while at least.

***

Harry ran to class his mind ablaze. Malfoy had called him Harry, he hadn't even realised it either. And it wasn't weird, not nearly as weird as it should have been. Harry was late, but Hagrid didn't seem to mind, he was showing the class a Griffin. It looked sleepy and Harry suspected it was sedated so not to pose a danger to any of the students. Harry came and stood between Ron and Hermione. They both turned briefly.

"Where did you get to?" Ron whispered.

"Forgot something," Harry muttered quickly.

"You want to Ron?" Hagrid boomed. Ron faced the front quickly, his face slightly horrified.

"Want to what?" he said, fear in his voice.

"Feed the Griffin!" Hagrid said, a huge grin on his face. Ron looked terrified, but he stepped forward nevertheless. Harry took this opportunity to be alone with Hermione and pulled her slightly behind everyone else. She looked at his quizzically.

"Harry, what..." she whispered, glancing back at Ron, who was entirely engaged by the Griffin.

"Here," he pulled the time turner, still wrapped in parchment from his pocket. "Dr...Malfoy asked me to give you this." He pushed it into her hands, and she looked from Harry to the package. Her hands went to open it immediately, but he stopped her. "No, not here." He glimpsed around again and whispered even more quietly, "It's the time turner, don't let Ron know. I'll explain later." She looked confused, but pocketed it anyway and they moved forward again, watching as Ron finished with the Griffin and returned to them. He looked shaken.

"You okay?" Hermione said placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah," he said faintly, "great. Always fun, being mauled by a Griffin."

About halfway through the lesson, when Harry was staring off into space, Hermione poked him and pointed. He dragged himself out of his bizarre thoughts and looked to see Dumbledore coming towards them. He stopped just left of them.

"Hagrid, I wonder, would you mind if I just borrowed Ron and Hermione for a moment? Harry, you'd better come too," Dumbledore said. Hagrid nodded and sent them a concerned glance before they turned and followed Dumbledore back towards the castle.

They stepped back inside, and immediately Harry realised what this was about. Dumbledore gestured towards the figures and then backed away to disappear down a corridor. He saw Hermione's face lift considerably, and she ran to hug Seamus. He was alright. Harry saw he looked a bit tired and bruised, but he was alive. Harry immediately looked around for Ginny, but she wasn't there. The only other person there was a girl from Ginny's year. He and Ron came closer, hearing Hermione's muffled sobs. Seamus hugged her tightly, and comforted her gently. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking at the girl.

"Yvonne?" he said. There was no question, but his tone of voice asked it without the words. Harry thought this must be one of Ginny's friends and felt his stomach turn over, waiting for her to answer. She was crying.

"I...don't know what happened to Ginny," she said. "They killed them all. Everyone else..." her tears coming violently and in bursts. Harry felt his heart sink, unable to look at Ron. But Ron looked at him instead. Harry couldn't think of a single word, and the seconds passed as they just stared at each other. Then Ron turned, and he and Yvonne walked towards the door. Harry made a move to go after them, but Ron turned to him.

"Don't," he said. "I just...need some peace." And with that he left the hall. Harry stared after them, and still at the door once they had passed through it, almost forgetting to breathe. Ginny was dead. The thing he feared was starting to happen. Voldemort would kill them all, one by one he would extinguish the lights that graced Harry's life, and by doing that he would destroy so many others. All to get to Harry. Harry felt a warm hand on his arm, and turned around to face Hermione, Seamus at her side.

"Harry," she whispered. "It's not your fault," she said as if reading his thoughts. His frown remained in place and he looked into her kind-hearted brown eyes that were glazed with the remnants of tears. His heart ached, looking at the pain he had caused and he turned away, leaving Hermione and Seamus standing in the hall, leaving everything for a short while so he could be away from everything and everyone.