Eclipse

Chapter 14

The day dawned clear and warm, but the sole occupant of the tent by the river was still snoring softly. A buzzing in his ear caused him to stir, but he merely snuggled deeper into the soft folds of the cloak and began snoring again. Something tickled his cheek, and he swatted at it reflexively, but didn't open his eyes. When the gnat landed on Harry's nose and bit him, he slapped it.

The self-inflicted slap in the face immediately brought him fully awake, and he sat up, blinking against the brightness of morning.

"Damn insect," he grunted, rubbing his nose, which was now both itchy and sore. He sighed and looked down at his companion. "G'morning Dra -"

He stopped short. The tent was empty. "Draco," he breathed.

Grabbing his glasses and jamming them on his face, he scrambled to his feet, almost knocking the tent over in the process. He was just about to call out when he saw Draco, and the sight caused him to skid to a stop.

Draco was standing in the shallows of the river, facing the far bank. His trousers were rolled up to his knees, and the water came halfway up his calves. Ripples from the river bounced off his legs to collide with other ripples, sending sparkles of light dancing. He was wearing just his T-shirt - Harry noticed his blue jumper lying on the bank.

Draco took a small, tentative step forward, sending larger ripples off into the quiet river. As he moved, Harry could see his shoulder blades shifting under the fabric of his T-shirt. He brought up his other foot alongside the first, and stood still again. Even though Harry couldn't see his face, he could imagine it. Draco would half-close his eyes each time he stepped. Then, once he was standing still again, his eyes would open wide, taking in everything.

With the sun at their backs, the whole forest around them was alive with green. The air wasn't humid, but not too dry either; almost soft. The wind was calm, like the dawn was holding her breath as she greeted the day. The only sound was the faint familiar backdrop of running water, and the occasional drone of gnats.

Harry scratched his nose.

He looked at Draco for another few seconds before making up his mind. He kicked off his shoes - despite hearing Draco in the back of his mind telling him to untie the laces first - pulled off his socks, and rolled up his trousers.

The dew on the grass clung to his toes, and his feet were wet before he stepped quietly into the river. He stopped next to Draco.

Draco acted as if he'd known Harry had been there the whole time, glanced at him briefly, and greeted him with a soft smile and a nod of the head. Harry thought he detected an unspoken "what took you so long?" in there somewhere, but it was rhetorical anyway. Draco then looked back out at the forest.

Harry followed Draco's gaze, wondering if he was looking at something in particular. He quickly realized there was nothing specific - just everything. The thought made him smile, and he glanced back at Draco to find the same thoughtful smile on Draco's face.

"What do you think?" Harry asked in a whisper, as though anything louder than that shouldn't be allowed.

Draco didn't look back as he answered. "I think it's beautiful."

*

********

Harry hadn't been sure how Draco would act, after the experience at the river. It might have been a bit awkward for him. Maybe Draco would want to talk about it, or maybe he'd close up from discomfort over how much of himself he'd exposed. He might even be angry. The actual result was altogether different.

Draco didn't mention it again. It was as though the time spent at the river had been a time and place apart, and Draco carried on as if it hadn't happened. Almost. Draco didn't act much differently than he had before. He still tossed random insults back and forth with Harry with casual amusement, and still prattled on with long-winded tales of random magical facts. He took great amusement when Harry tripped over a branch and landed face-first in an unfortunately muddy patch of ground, and snickered gleefully as he healed Harry's bruises. Harry had returned the requisite scowl. Still, something had changed. They were closer, somehow. Unspoken though the fact might be, it was obvious, and Harry took a strange comfort in it. Somehow, he knew Draco did, too.

In many ways, they were still in their "place apart" from the rest of the world.

A few times, Harry found himself watching Draco with a sort of fascination. He'd never really looked at him before, and even after their escape, the mental image he'd constructed of the pointy-faced, haughty blond hadn't quite vanished. Now, Harry let himself see what was really there. When Draco was relaxed, he actually had a very pleasant smile. Harry wondered offhandedly if ugliness was really just a side-effect of a sour disposition. Draco caught him staring once, when they'd stopped for a snack, and wordlessly raised an eyebrow in query. Harry merely shrugged, took the last bite from his apple, and threw the core in Draco's general direction.

After one pleasant day of easy travel, Harry awoke the following morning to rain spattering in through a gap in the tent. He groaned, which woke Draco.

"Maybe I spoke too soon," Draco grumbled as he stuck one hand out of the tent to feel how heavy the rain was. "'Beautiful' my arse."

Harry snickered, and Draco responded by flicking a handful of rainwater at him. Even the miserable weather couldn't dampen the light-hearted mood. Harry waterproofed their clothes, and Draco turned a couple of leaves into a hideous pair of hats. When Harry laughed, Draco insisted that his hats would be considered the height of fashion somewhere in the world.

"Perhaps... in an institution for the blind, or maybe the criminally insane."

Draco scowled. "Fine. Your head can just get wet, then."

Harry smiled, grabbed the hat, and plopped it on his head. "I never said I didn't like it."

"Then you have terrible taste in fashion."

"Wait, but you just said -"

"Said what?" Draco grinned innocently. "And by the way, your hat clashes with your jumper."

Harry shook his head, trying to mentally catch up with Draco's rambling. "Hat clashes... what...? That's because it's green."

"Well, what other colour would it be?" Draco asked as he began fishing through the pack for breakfast.

Harry tapped the hat with his wand. "Red." The hat abruptly changed colour.

Draco frowned, abandoned his quest for breakfast, and aimed his wand at Harry's hat. "Green."

"Red!"

"Green!"

"Red -" " - Green!"

Draco's eyes went wide, and he immediately doubled over in laughter. Harry got a funny feeling - something like being scared, but not quite - and removed the hat from his head. "Plaid," he said bleakly.

Draco sat up straight and gasped for air before blurting out, "Well, it suits you!"

"Does not," Harry said flatly.

Draco eyed the hat, looked at Harry appraisingly, then glanced at the hat again. "Definitely."

Harry groaned and aimed his wand at the offending hat again. "Let me just fix it -"

Draco placed his hand over Harry's. "Green," he said firmly. "Seriously, red looks awful on you. You may be a Gryffindor, but..." His voice trailed off as he shook his head in disapproval, tutting softly with his tongue.

"What? I didn't think it mattered."

"Well, it doesn't, but it does." With a smirk, Draco quickly flicked his wand in Harry's general direction. "Seriously, with eyes like yours, it's almost a shame you didn't let the hat put you in Slytherin."

He was staring directly into Harry's eyes now, and Harry felt his cheeks growing warm. "And why is that?" he whispered.

"Because then at least you wouldn't clash."

Harry sat back and rolled his eyes. "And when did you become a fashion connoisseur?"

"I'm not," Draco said simply, "but there's always something to be said for good taste."

This was certainly very odd behaviour, Harry thought to himself. "And your tastes are...?"

Draco continued to look at him for a moment, then flashed a half-grin and pulled a piece of fruit out of the pack. "Banana," he said smugly.

Harry shook his head, and finally looked down at the hat in his hands. It was green. And now, so was his jumper.

*

********

As they travelled, warm and dry under their odd headgear, Harry decided he didn't mind the green jumper so much. It had left Draco in a decidedly cheerful mood, despite the rain, so Harry figured he'd keep it like that. Just for a little while, of course.

The gloomy weather led to reminiscing about home and Hogwarts.

"I used to love Quidditch practices on days like today," Harry said wistfully.

"Potter, have I told you lately that you're barking mad?"

"No."

"Okay. Potter, you're barking mad."

"Was that a professional opinion, or a friendly observation?" Harry asked with a laugh, as he batted an overhead branch. The movement brought down a deluge of fat droplets which splattered their faces despite the hats.

Draco lightly punched Harry's shoulder. "Sheer honesty, nothing less. Arsehole. And why would you want to play in the rain?"

"Simple. Once we were done, we'd come inside, and the common room would be nice and warm, with a blazing fire. We'd all group together by the fireplace and avoid doing homework together. Fred and George would usually pinch a bunch of desserts from the kitchens, along with some hot chocolate -"

"How did they get into the kitchens?"

The question was so casual that Harry almost answered it before he caught himself. He grinned and shook his head. "I solemnly swore that I'd never reveal the secret."

"Liar."

"Well, would you believe it involved tickling a painting of a piece of fruit?" Harry laughed at the confused look on Draco's face. "Maybe I'll show you when we get back. We can celebrate our miraculous return with a proper feast. Besides, I'll bet Biddy will be down there, and she'll be thrilled to see you."

Draco grumbled, "Yeah, and I'll have her permanently attached to my leg, if I'm not careful. See what happens when you're nice to a house-elf? They never leave you alone!" There was no malice in his voice, though.

"Yup, Draco. She'll follow you to the ends of the earth now. Unconditional love and devotion. And it's always good to have someone waiting for you when you come home."

When Draco remained silent for several seconds, Harry looked over. Draco was staring at the ground as he walked, and he looked distinctly crestfallen. Immediately, Harry understood why. This wasn't the first time Draco had shown distress over the anticipated reaction from his housemates, and Harry was sure it wasn't going to be the last, but so far, they hadn't really discussed it. He inwardly kicked himself for having brought it up. "I'm sorry, Draco."

"What for?" Draco said harshly. "You didn't do it."

"Well, you said it was all my fault, if you remember," Harry reminded him, hoping to take some of the weight from Draco's shoulders.

Draco shot him a sharp look, but Harry wasn't going to let it go so easily. "I'm sure somebody in Slytherin won't know, or won't care. I mean, they've been your friends for this long, right?"

"Harry," Draco said in a voice that didn't allow for debate, "You really don't get it, do you?"

Harry started to feel a little awkward. He hadn't meant to break the topic into a full conversation, especially when he knew exactly where it would go, and how it was going to affect Draco. "I... I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Draco grumbled, "Oh, yes you do, even if you don't want to admit it to yourself. We've been tip-toeing around this for days. So, let me spell it out for you."

He drew up short and leaned against an oak tree, and indicated for Harry to get comfortable. "Being in Gryffindor is like being in an exclusive sort of club, right? You're either in, or you're out."

"Well, sure, I guess."

"And what would happen if, say, you suddenly discovered that Neville Longbottom was a Death Eater? And don't look at me like that. I don't want to hear that it could never happen - a week ago, nobody would have believed that I'd turn on the Dark Lord. So for the sake of argument, just imagine it. Neville Longbottom; Death Eater. What would you do?"

Harry's mouth opened, but he had no answer. At least, he had no answer that he wanted to give. "I... I suppose we'd probably corner him, hex him, and turn him over to Dumbledore."

Draco nodded knowingly. "That's because you'd consider him a traitor and a threat."

Harry said nothing.

Draco looked at Harry with an almost sympathetic expression which seemed out of place. "Everyone in a house is pretty much like-minded. That's why we have houses... so we can get along, and people generally agree with each other, as far as the important stuff is concerned. So if somebody disagrees with the status quo when the stakes are this high, that person becomes a target. Right?"

"Right..." Harry said hesitantly.

"Then you should know perfectly well that pretty much everyone in Slytherin is of one mind regarding Muggles, Muggle-borns, and the Dark Lord. There are different degrees of enthusiasm, of course. Some people don't much care either way. Some people are fanatical. And you can probably guess that those who are the strongest supporters of the Dark Lord are the ones with the most influence; the ones you don't want to cross." He grimaced. "That used to be me."

Draco shook his head to himself and started walking again. "There's not going to be anyone waiting for me when I get home."

Harry fell into step beside him, desperate for something to say. That could have been worse, Harry mused. He seems pretty accepting of it... I wish he didn't have to be."I wish there was something I - "

"There isn't." Draco's words were harsh and flat, and made Harry cringe. "You've done enough."

That shocked Harry. "I'm sorry...?"

Draco finally spared a glance in Harry's direction. His face was set sternly, but his eyes were warm. "Don't be."

Now Harry was confused. "Huh?"

Draco's expression warmed to a cool shade of neutral. "Just because you've done 'enough' doesn't mean what you did was wrong. It just means the rest is up to me. Think about this, Harry. When we get back, what am I going to do? Get re-sorted into Gryffindor? Ha, not bloody likely. I don't think anybody has ever been re-sorted. And even if I was... after what I did to you, your housemates will be just as angry with me." He shook his head. "I'll just have to figure out how to handle my housemates on my own."

"How well do you think that will work?"

Draco made a noncommittal noise and shrugged.

"Do you think they'll try to hurt you?"

"Probably."

Harry didn't like how easily Draco offered that response. "What would they do to you though? I mean, what couldthey do to hurt you within Hogwarts? Surely the professors - "

"Harry," Draco interrupted softly. "Do you remember what I was able to do to you in Hogwarts just two weeks ago?"

A cold, sick feeling settled into Harry's stomach. His face must have matched that sensation, because Draco nodded his approval. "The professors don't have nearly as much control as they'd like to think. Look at what happened last year."

The coldness congealed into a knot of worry. "Will you be okay?"

Draco tipped his head. "I'll figure it out."

"What if they try to kill you?" The question was out of Harry's mouth before he could stop it. His eyes widened in horror at what he'd just said, but Draco almost looked amused.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me," he asked with deceptively light curiosity. When Harry didn't answer immediately, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you?"

"I worry about all my friends."

A smile appeared to tug at the corner of Draco's mouth. "And I've miraculously been deemed worthy of the title of 'Harry Potter's Friend'? To what auspicious occasion do I owe this honour?

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not exactly an honour these days. In fact, it will probably turn into a fast track to a violent death."

Draco seemed to consider this. "I think I'll risk it. Besides, I want to have someone besides a house-elf back at Hogwarts who doesn't want me dead."

"Well," Harry began thoughtfully, "the Hufflepuffs don't seem like the bloody-murder types. You should be safe from them."

Draco stopped short, eyes wide. "Potter, I just had the most horrible vision."

"What's that?"

"A murderous horde, robed in yellow and black, running at me, screaming and brandishing exceptionally sharp spoons."

Harry surveyed Draco sceptically, then glanced up at the sky, which was still dripping water relentlessly. "Your brain must be getting waterlogged."

"I think one of them had a pair of rusty scissors."

"Come on, Draco." Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Let's keep going."

*

********

As the afternoon wore on, the rain slowly started to let up, and the clouds retreated from the tops of the surrounding mountains. The landscape was changing, too. Dense forest occasionally gave way to open fields where the high grasses were bent almost double with the weight of the rain. Swirls of fog stretched out of the woods and across the fields, carrying the mellow scent of rain and earth, musty but not heavy. The wind blew gentle puffs of drier air, heralding the end of the storm. Harry abandoned his hat, despite Draco's protests, and at the first real break in the clouds, they stopped for a late lunch.

"What'll it be, Harry?" Draco asked as he flopped down heavily on a low rise of earth. "Assortment of fine cheeses? Peppered roast lamb? Turkey pie?"

"Very funny," Harry said as he grabbed the sandwich from Draco's outstretched hand. He quickly took a seat on a large rock a few feet away, wondering why Draco hadn't taken the better seat. "I figure it's about two o'clock. With all the rain today, we really shouldn't sleep in the lower part of the valley. Water drains downwards, so it'll be too soggy."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Mr Nature Guide. Harry, pardon me for asking, but where did you learn all this random shit?"

"Same place I learned about the fishing," Harry said before stuffing a large bite of ham sandwich into his mouth. "Muggle television."

"And we all know how effective your fishing technique was."

Harry ignored the comment. "The nature channel had a special about floods and floodplains."

"Ah. Too bad your infinite Muggle wisdom left occasional gaps in your common sense."

"I seem to be doing just -"

At that moment, a gust of wind shook the tree branch over Harry's head, soaking him in heavy droplets. Chagrined, Harry stared over the top of his water speckled glasses, and finished, "Fine."

Draco snickered, took a bite out of his sandwich, chewed, and quickly swallowed. "Why do you think I didn't sit there, genius?"

Harry wasn't sure which irritated him more; the water trickling along his scalp, or the thought of conceding to Draco's foresight by moving.

He wasn't going to move. That would mean Draco was right.

Grumbling to himself, he went to take another bite of his sandwich when a fat drop of water landed squarely on the nape of his neck and ran down his shirt. He shivered and glared up at the tree in irritation. The tree responded by having yet another drop fall right between his eyes. Figuring that the tree was more vindictive than Draco, Harry moved.

"Surrendered, did you?"

"Never," Harry said calmly as he sat down on the other side of Draco. "I prefer to think of it as a strategic retreat."

"Sure," Draco said distractedly. "Strategy, Gryffindor style. Very profound." He was no longer really paying attention to Harry. His interest appeared to be divided between his lunch and a small shrub growing behind him. "Hey, Nature Boy, did Sprout cover shrubs and trees in her classes on Potions Plants?"

With some effort, Harry suppressed the bristling sensation on the back of his neck. "Some. Why?"

Draco was running his finger along one of the branches of the shrub. "Is this a hawthorn or a blackthorn?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What? How am I supposed to know?"

Draco spared a backwards glance. "I'm not saying that you're supposed to. I'm just hoping that you do. Take a look."

"Fine." Shaking the water from his hair one more time, Harry moved around Draco to get a better look. He fingered a few leaves gently. "It's a blackthorn."

"Oh." Draco sounded disappointed. "How can you tell?"

"The leaves are ovals with little teeth. Hawthorn leaves have lobes." He suddenly pulled his hand away from the branch as though he'd been shocked. "Shit! I am turning into a nature freak. Merlin help me."

"Weren't you just picking on me a few days ago for notremembering things from Herbology?"

Several answers flashed through Harry's mind: everything from "I have a reputation to uphold as a lazy, Quidditch-playing, evil-fighting Gryffindor," to "I hadn't expected to become your personal reference manual!" Instead, he glowered and said, "Shut up, Draco."

"No, that would be dreadfully boring." Draco paused thoughtfully. "And besides, what would you do without my charming wit and conversation?"

Harry just shook his head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Draco nodded. "And you love every minute of it." He took another bite of his sandwich and spoke around the mouthful. "Eat. We've got ground to cover."

*

********

It was late afternoon before Draco let the fatigue in his legs get the better of him, and he stopped at the edge of a large field to rest. The winds were blowing the last traces of clouds from the sky, the grasses in the field were standing upright as they dried, and it promised to be a pleasant evening. Draco flopped down in the damp grass and closed his eyes, grateful that the waterproofing charm was still working on his clothes. A soft thud nearby informed him that Harry had willingly joined his respite.

"So then, if you weren't dating Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode has no interest in boys, who wereyou after?"

Draco opened one eye in irritation. "You're not going to stop pestering me, are you?"

Harry shook his head, grinning. "I already told you everything there was to know about my love life."

Draco closed his eye again. "No skin off your back. You didn't have one in the first place."

Draco was immediately rewarded by a face full of wet grass. "Phffffbt! What the hell was that for?" He sat up, brushing the offending plant matter from his face and shirt.

"For being a prat." Harry shrugged. "And because I could."

Draco scowled and threw the last few bits of grass in Harry's direction, but the wind caught them and they fell just short. His scowl deepened. "How exceedingly mature. That might partially explain the complete lack of any meaningful relationship."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Harry's voice oozed indignation, and Draco grinned.

"Harry, Harry, Harry."

"You sound like Lockhart."

Draco barely managed to suppress a wave of nausea. "Okay, I get it." He shook off a shudder. "But let's just say that the behaviour required to impress the ladies calls for a bit more decorum than throwing wet grass at people."

"Are you telling me that I have to grow up?"

Draco sighed with a smile. "In some ways, you're grown up more than most people ever will. In others... well... you told me what happened with Chang."

Harry glared at him darkly, which only made Draco laugh.

"Seriously, Harry, some of us have wondered about you. I mean, there has to be a reason you haven't reallydated. Last minute dates to the Yule Ball, and you ignored the girls anyway. And then, with half the girls in the school falling over their favourite hero - and some of the blokes too, if I'm not mistaken - you had to pine after some girl you barely knew, who wasn't terribly interested according to you, and then you had no idea how to deal with the emotional consequences."

"What the hell was I supposed to do about Cho?" Harry leaned back on his hands sullenly. "All she wanted to do was cry about Cedric. And then..." He made a strange growling noise. "None of it was what I expected. None of what I wanted. I thought there was supposed to be something there. Especially after I'd wanted to date her for so long."

Draco leaned forward and rested his chin on his clasped hands. This was very... interesting. "Harry, have you ever considered that you didn't actually want to date her?"

Even from there, Draco could feel Harry's shields go up immediately. "That's stupid. Of course I wanted to date her."

Draco chuckled. "Think about it, Harry. In all your time at Hogwarts, you develop one crush on one girl. One. More of a fixation than a crush, judging by your description. You barely knew her. She was almost unattainable. You had almost no physical interaction with her, and barely spoke to her. You hardly cared when the so-called relationship failed - and don't look at me like that. I've seen both girls and blokes mope about for days... or weeks... when a love interest flops. You were just irritated."

"So?"

"So... you had no interest in her." Draco fixed his most enigmatic grin on his face. "Or in any other girl for that matter. Chang was just a distant fixation, and it gave you the perfect excuse not to even try dating anyone else."

"I was busy trying not to die," Harry said flatly. "What's your excuse?"

Draco shook his head to himself and chuckled at his private source of amusement. "Just a general lack of interest." He paused to consider the depth of his answer. "I mean, look at the girls in my house. They might be pure-blooded, but Merlin! They're ugly!"

Harry considered this, nodded once, then shook his head. "There are plenty of girls in other houses, and I'm sure some of them must be pretty."

Draco found this statement even more interesting than the others. "Really, Harry? Then who?"

"I... I don't know. I wasn't really looking." Harry was starting to look flustered. "Who cares?"

"Apparently, not you."

"What?"

Draco began quietly laughing to himself. "Harry... you're sixteen years old. At that age, you're supposed to have more hormones in your bloodstream than Bertie Botts has beans. Are you telling me that you haven't even been looking?"

"I told you, I've had other things to worry about!"

Draco's grin turned into a smirk. "What colour are Chang's eyes?"

Harry looked confused for a moment. "They... I think... hmm..."

"Harry, every oriental person has brown eyes." Draco was highly amused. "That should have been too easy. What about Brown... er... Lavender Brown? What colour are her eyes?"

"Brown?"

Draco shook his head, not in disagreement, but because it was obvious Harry didn't have a clue. "The Patil twins? Loony Lovegood? The Weasley girl? Harry, these are the girls you know. This should be easy." The smirk turned devious. "Okay, let's try this. What colour are Finnigan's eyes?"

"Hazel," Harry answered automatically.

Gotcha. "Finch-Fletchley?"

"Brown."

Draco's smile became more subdued, but no less devious. "Zacharias Smith?"

"Blue-grey, I think."

Draco closed his eyes. "Mine?"

"Grey." Harry's tone of voice had changed just then. While the answer had been certain, the tone had been questioning. "Draco... where the hell are you going with this?"

Draco sat up and fixed Harry with a stare. "If you can't figure it out, Harry, then I'm really not at liberty to explain it to you."

"Huh?"

Draco smirked. "Maybe when you're older."

"What?"

"There's that word again, Harry." Draco stood and clapped Harry once on the shoulder. "You see if you can work out the answer on your own." He reached down into the food pack and pulled out a banana. "Food should help your thought process. Lots of potassium."

Draco dropped the banana into Harry's lap, marvelling over the blank expression on Harry's face. Leaving Harry sitting there, Draco began exploring the foliage along the edge of the field. He was still on a mission for potions ingredients, and he'd thought he'd seen some mugwort a bit further into the woods.

"Hey, Draco?" Harry's voice followed him.

"Yes?"

"Did you hear something?"

Draco glanced back over his shoulder. "Something, as in...?"

"Never mind. Just my imagination."

Just the squeaky sound of the rusty hormone valves in your bloodstream. He just rolled his eyes, smiled, and nodded before turning back to his little search.

The trees were still damp from the morning rains, and dead leaves from previous seasons were soft underfoot. Draco combed through the low bushes, thinking absently to himself. Of course, he had no proof of Harry's preferences, but the very suspicion... it was definitely unexpected, and highly fascinating. That the Golden Boy could possibly be... it was too strange to consider. But the funniest part was that if Harry was gay, it was obvious that he had no clue. Draco, on the other hand, had personally entertained the thought once or twice. At least as a remote possibility. Maybe.

Draco's eyes were fixed on the ground as he walked, looking over the multitude of familiar plants while he continued to ponder this latest piece of information about Harry. He was still lost in thought when the silvery leaves of a small plant caught his eyes nearby. Mugwort! I knew I saw some!

He stepped over a small branch, and walked around a shrub, and there it was. Or, there they were, for that matter: several small mugwort plants, clustered together at the edge of some dense brush.

Harry's voice carried to him from a few metres away. "Draco, did you say something?"

Draco didn't bother to look back as he answered. "No, Harry. Just the voices in your head again." He reached down to pluck the largest sprout of mugwort at the base of the stem.

"The voices... DRACO! STOP!"

Draco didn't hear the sharp hiss over Harry's yelling, but he saw the sudden flash of motion, and he definitely felt the sharp stab on his right forearm as the snake struck him. "AAAGH!" He wrenched his arm back and clapped his left hand over the bite as he took two stumbling steps backwards in surprise.

Harry was running towards him, making hissing noises that could only be Parseltongue. When he reached Draco, he grabbed Draco's arm and switched back to English. "Let me see it."

"It's not that bad," Draco snarled, pulling his arm away. He could already feel a burning sensation.

"LET ME SEE IT!"

Harry's voice left no room for argument, and Draco obliged by rolling back his sleeve and extending his forearm. Harry grasped him by the wrist and leaned forward to examine the two distinct puncture marks, which were already reddening. He looked up at Draco, eyes wide with worry. Without dropping Draco's wrist, he looked back over towards the brush and hissed again.

Slowly, a fair sized adder slithered from its hiding place in the dense plants, and hissed a reply. By the look on Harry's face, he understood every - word? Hiss? Whatever? Harry must have hissed something scathing in reply, because the snake, if such a thing was possible, actually looked ashamed. It curled itself up into a ball and lay still.

Harry turned back towards Draco. "We startled her," he said, as if that explained everything. "Or more specifically, you startled her. She says she's sorry... but... but she's an adder, and..."

"Harry, I know... adders are poisonous." Draco could feel himself start to shake as the implications of his words sunk in and the burning in his arm grew stronger. He clasped his left hand over the bite again, partially out of reflex to the pain, and partially because the sight of the two puncture wounds slowly oozing blood was making him queasy. One coherent thought pushed through his building fear. "We have to make an antidote."

"How?" Harry's voice shook slightly. "That could take forever! We don't have any equipment, or any ingredients!"

Despite the pain and the sick feeling that was settling into his stomach, Draco managed a smirk. "Adder bites aren't usually fatal, Potter, and even if they were, it takes a while. We have time. And as for making the antidote... I'm just glad one of us paid attention in fourth year Potions."

Harry's mouth was hanging slightly open. He blinked twice. "But... equipment? Ingredients?"

"Can you transfigure a standard pewter cauldron?"

"Yes..."

Draco squeezed at the burning spot on his arm, but if anything, that only made it feel worse. He grimaced. "And do you think we can find snakeroot, plantain, Calamintha - er... wild basil, and an ash tree?"

Harry blinked again. "Do those grow around here?"

Draco nodded. "They should. Do you know what they look like?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, then gave a tight-lipped nod.

"Good. The base for the potion is rainwater. We don't need much, so I'm sure we can collect enough from leaves. You also need to convince your friend there to donate a sample of her venom." He indicated the adder, who was still curled up in a contrite little ball. "Can you do that?"

Harry glanced down at the snake, the back at Draco. "I'm sure she would. She was really sorry... why do you need the venom?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "One of the most basic formulas for antidotes to poisons is to take that poison, and use various other ingredients and magic to reverse its effects. Didn't you pay any attention in - oh!" A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he clutched his stomach. "I think we need to hurry."

Harry responded with a nod, and turned to the snake. As Harry began hissing, Draco could only shake his head. There was still something about Parseltongue that was utterly fascinating. But there was no time to think of that as another wave of dizziness hit him, this time leaving nausea in its wake. With a deep breath, he began combing the immediate area for plants.

Draco had once heard an old folk saying that for every danger or ailment you can find in nature, you can always find the exact remedy close at hand. That was usually true. Jewelweed near poison ivy. Black willow Salix in swamps where people often caught fevers with headaches. Figwort and other appropriate burn poultices near dragon caves. And where snakes lived...

"I've found the snakeroot, Harry."

"Already?" Harry looked up from where he had been talking to the snake.

Draco nodded. "I expected it to be here." He closed his eyes against another wave of dizziness. "It tends to grow near where snakes live."

Harry nodded vaguely. He seemed rather unfocused, and Draco noted that he seemed to be taking the situation worse than Draco himself was. That wouldn't do. Judging by the rate at which the venom seemed to be affecting him, Draco was pretty sure that Harry would have to be the one to finish brewing the antidote. That was, provided they found the other three ingredients. If they didn't...

This is not going to pleasant.

He shook his head to himself, but quickly stopped as it brought up a fresh surge of nausea. He dropped to one knee and started digging furiously at the base of the little plant. A moment later, with the snakeroot firmly in hand, Draco walked back towards Harry. To his irritation, he stumbled the last few steps and let himself flop down in an undignified heap.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, peachy, Potter. Best day I ever had," Draco snapped. Then he saw the stung look on Harry's face, and he deliberately softened his own tone. "I know... just trying to help. Here." He shoved the snakeroot into Harry's hand. "One down, three to go."

Harry looked at the twisted, dirty root sitting in the palm of his hand. He seemed frozen. "Are you going to be able to brew this yourself, Draco? Because you know that I'm not the best at Potions. I'm not terrible, but -"

"Harry, your little friend there got me pretty hard. At the rate this is going, I'm not going to be much help to you in another fifteen minutes." Draco swallowed against the growing tightness in his throat. At first, he thought he was getting inappropriately emotional and frantic, but when he realised he was slowly becoming short of breath, comprehension hit him. Another side effect of the venom. He also noticed that he was breaking into a cold sweat. He forced himself to breathe as evenly as possible, and leaned towards Harry. "So, I'm going to tell you exactly what to do."

"But what if I -"

"You made it into Snape's NEWT level class... you'll be fine." Through slightly blurry vision, he did his best to fix his eyes on Harry's. "You've got the venom, right?"

Harry held up a small corked vial that he must have transfigured; a viscous, yellow substance clung to the inside of the glass. Draco nodded his approval. "Good. I'd thank your little friend there, but I also have her to thank for getting me into this mess. So... wait, where'd she go?"

"She... er... wanted to help, so I told her what we needed." Harry's eyes shone hopefully. "She said she knew exactly where to find plantain, and she'll be back really quickly."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Well then, I guess I -"

The pain in his arm suddenly flared, and this time, the burning seemed to run through his entire body, leaving a tingling numbness in his limbs. He closed his eyes as the dizziness overwhelmed him, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, stifling a moan.

"Draco!" Harry was immediately by his side. "I shouldn't have let you move around... that spreads the venom faster. Shit - no! Don't sit up. Just lie still. Whatever you need to tell me, you can tell me from there."

There was a whispered charm, and Draco felt something cool and damp pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring at the slightly blurred face of Harry Potter.

"I need to sit up," Draco mumbled, feeling very uncomfortable with the attention, and a bit claustrophobic with Harry leaning over him. "Let me sit up."

He made a more concerted effort, but Harry's hand pressed against his chest, and he couldn't move.

"Draco, tell me what to do. Now."

The tone of Harry's voice combined with another wave of pain was enough to convince Draco that this was not the time to play around. He tried to take a deep breath, but failed. Wincing, he began, "First, place three ash twigs in the bottom of the cauldron, and pour over that a half cup of rainwater. Start a low fire..."

Somewhere around the middle of his instructions to Harry, Draco was no longer sure if he was making sense. His brain seemed to be wrapped in cotton. He felt feverish, and he wished he could simply pass out, if that would just make the pain stop.

*

********

While he waited for the adder to return, Harry retrieved the ash twigs from a nearby stand of the slender trees, skinned and sliced a thumb-sized piece of the snakeroot, and had collected almost enough rainwater in a cup he'd transfigured from an acorn cap. He was desperately trying to ignore the faint moans coming from Draco. If they had been at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey would have had an antidote ready. If they had been at Hogwarts, Snape would have had the wild basil, which was conspicuously absent from the area.

If we were at Hogwarts, this never would have happened.

Harry took yet another in a long string of slow, deep breaths in an attempt to keep his wits about him. Panic wouldn't do Draco any good.

A faint hissed greeting was a much welcomed distraction from his worry.

"Young massster, I have returned with the plant you need."The snake was lying by his feet, with several familiar egg-shaped leaves laid out in front of her. "Isss it enough?"

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Harry reached down and scooped up the leaves. "Yes, it's enough."

The snake gave one regal nod before lifting her head and looking in Draco's direction. "He isss not doing ssso well. I am sssorry, again, I thought he wasss going to hurt me."

"He'll be okay... if I can find wild basil," Harry said as he resumed collecting the rainwater. "I don't suppose you know where to find that?"

"Alasss, this plant I do not know."

Harry's stomach dropped so sharply that he almost spilt the rainwater. He'd been counting on being able to ask the snake for more help. Draco had said that the plants needed for a cure were almost always found wherever the hazard itself was found. He'd been so certain it would just be there. "Are you sure?"

"I am quite sssure, young massster."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He had to find it. There was no other choice. But that didn't stop the thought from popping into his head: We are really fucked. Out loud, he said, "Thank you anyway. I'm sure I'll find it."

The snake seemed to regard him carefully for a moment. "I ssshall not be far, if you have need of me again. Pleassse, tell your friend I am truly sssorry."

Harry gave a slight nod as the snake slithered off and disappeared beneath some brush, leaving him alone with his delirious companion. Draco, for his part, was clutching his stomach and weakly tossing his head back and forth every few seconds. He'd become delirious about halfway through his instructions, but that was okay. Harry had recognized the potion, and from Draco's ramblings, had been able to remember the details for himself. It wasn't a very complex potion.

With the cup full of rainwater, Harry returned to his impromptu potions laboratory. He'd transfigured a large rock into a fairly good cauldron, which he'd set over a small magical fire. He'd found two fairly flat rocks and would use them to mash the plantain leaves into a paste. The venom was laid next to the ash twigs and snakeroot, ready to use. It was perfect, save for the missing ingredient. Knowing full well that it was pointless without all the ingredients, Harry placed the twigs in the bottom of the cauldron and added the water. Those needed to simmer for a half-hour before he could even add the plantain anyway. He could search more in the meantime.

Harry was mashing the plantain leaves when he was startled by a voice.

"Young massster."

Harry calmed when he realised it was just the snake talking. "Yes?"

"I can tassste prey in the air. I have not eaten for daysss. I must hunt."

"Sure. Go ahead. I've got to work on this anyway," Harry replied absently. What did he care if the snake had to go hunting? The snake couldn't do anything more to help him, and he needed to concentrate. As soon as the plantain leaves were pulverized, he could start searching for the basil.

A few minutes later, the plantain leaves were ready, and he had about twenty minutes of searching time before he had to come back and perform the next step. During that time, he could surely cover a large enough area to find something. It had to be there.

He walked over to Draco and dropped down beside him.

Draco was a sad sight. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his jaw was clenched tightly. Where his skin wasn't flushed with angry red blotches, it was a gruesome shade of grey. He was sweating, but he looked like he was cold.

Harry quickly reached into the pack and pulled out the cloak. He enlarged it and tucked it around Draco's trembling body, then after a moment's consideration, he reached under the cloak and grabbed Draco's hand. "Draco?" He squeezed. "Hey, Draco, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can bloody well hear you, Potter," Draco said between chattering teeth.

The sarcastic tone actually made Harry feel better. "Draco, I'm going to go looking for the wild basil. I'm not going to go too far away, but in case you need me, I don't want you to panic. I should only be gone about twenty minutes -"

"Harry," Draco croaked, interrupting him. "You're... forgetting something."

"What?"

"Two of us... one Mislocator. You can't go too far." He moaned softly and clutched the cloak tight against his chin, but Harry didn't notice.

Harry was too busy trying to swallow the block of ice that had somehow become lodged in his throat. He hadn't thought of that. There was no way he could move Draco without making him worse, but if the plant wasn't within the specified radius, moving would be the least of Draco's problems. He absently gave Draco's hand another squeeze, then tucked the cloak back around his trembling body. Determined not to give up so easily, Harry began working his way outwards from Draco, searching in a slow spiral. In the back of his mind, he latched onto one thought: He was Harry Potter. No matter how bad things seemed, he had always found a way. Behind that thought, he deliberately ignored angry memories of Cedric Diggory's lifeless body.

Twenty minutes later, he'd combed every inch he dared to search, but no trace of the plant. With a heavy sigh, he returned to the cauldron, which was bubbling away merrily, and added the plantain. Instantly, the water went from clear with a hint of brown to an opaque greenish yellow. Simple ingredients, but under the right conditions, the subtle magical properties were enhanced. If the situation had been any less dire, Harry might have enjoyed pondering such simple yet elegant magic, but at the moment, he was too frantic to allow such placid thoughts.

Using the blade of Draco's dagger, Harry stirred anticlockwise forty times, carefully counting each stroke. Then he laid the dagger aside and picked up the sliced snakeroot. He added it, piece by piece, until suddenly a small puff of red smoke heralded the change. Harry peeked into the cauldron to see that the mixture had indeed turned a rich shade of blood red. He nodded in tight-lipped approval. Now, there was nothing to do to the potion for another fifteen minutes, at which time, he needed to add the basil and the venom simultaneously. Until then, all he could do was to search the area one more time.

His eyes roamed over the damp earth, and the multitude of interesting plants, but nothing that remotely resembled wild basil. In the absence of a discovery, Harry's mind started to replay the events that had led up to the snakebite.

Draco had gone off on his own, poking around for some random plant or another. Why did I have to get him fixed on these wild potions plants? Harry berated himself. My fault. He wouldn't have gone messing around in the brush if it hadn't been for me.

A sharp scratch on Harry's arm distracted him for a moment. He looked down bemusedly. Well, there's Draco's hawthorn. Fancy that. He shook his head to himself and looked back down at the ground. He wasn't searching for a tree. He needed a small plant.

Harry walked past the spot where Draco had been bitten, and recognized the mugwort growing there. That must have been what Draco had been going for. But mugwort is so common! Why did he care about getting a handful of that? Snape must have a dozen jars of dried leaves.

Doesn't matter. I should have warned Draco before he stuck his hand in there. And I should have recognized that I was hearing Parseltongue sooner! How could I have been so stupid? I was distracted... What the hell was I thinking about? After everything he's done for me, why now? He's not going to die... it's not usually fatal... but he looks so ill. I can't stand this. It's not going to happen this way. Not like this... I'm not going to lose him.

Harry stared blankly at the spread of the forest undergrowth. He wasn't going to find wild basil. It simply wasn't there, but how could he just give up? He didn't have a choice; there was nothing left for him to do. At the same time as that thought was settling like a brick in his gut, a memory was tugging at the back of his mind. Something about the difference between Muggle classifications of plant families, and magical classifications. He remembered being surprised that plants which were completely unrelated in a biological sense could be grouped magically.

A shaky grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. It was crazy, but it just might work.

*

********

The pain of the Cruciatus curse was worse, Draco thought distantly through the fog in his head, but at least when it was over, it was over. This pain clung sickly to every bone in his body, every muscle, every vein. His stomach churned, his lungs were thick and heavy, and the feeling just kept getting worse. Somewhere, under the pain, he was aware that Harry was trying to brew the antidote, but the chances that he'd found all the ingredients were slim. Draco hadn't been willing to admit that aloud to himself, nor had he wanted to let Harry know how rare wild basil was - hope was a powerful motivator. Right now, however, Draco just hoped he'd pass out soon.

He distantly noticed movement behind his head, but he didn't have the presence of mind to react to it. It took him by surprise when a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and attempted to lift him, and he cried out as the pain magnified itself threefold.

"Easy there, Draco. It's me."

"Harry... oh fuck, this hurts."

"I'm sure it does. I've got something for you... so let's just hope my brewing skills aren't as bad as Snape says they are."

"You found -"

He was cut off as a cup was placed against his mouth. Under more coherent conditions, Draco might have questioned consuming a potion brewed by anyone but a professional or himself, but he was in no state to argue. That, and the fact that he was willing to try almost anything if only the pain would stop. He drank.

The liquid tasted sour, sharp, and faintly spicy; not particularly palatable, but better than some potions he'd encountered. He quickly drained the small amount of liquid in the cup.

At first, he didn't think it had worked. Then, through the pain, he began to feel a churning warmth in the pit of his stomach. His breath caught as every muscle in his body clenched violently. He gritted his teeth, trying to ride it out, only distantly aware of Harry's arms around him, or Harry's voice in his ear. By the time his muscles unknotted themselves, the pain was fading away with the knots. Draco felt so spent that all he could do was to collapse back against Harry, gasping for air.

Finally, the pain was nothing more than a faint tingling in his limbs and a slight burn in his stomach, almost like too much cheap wine. Draco blinked hard as he assessed his situation. The wind was cool on his face, not freezing. The field and trees were no longer a blur, and while his stomach still seemed to be twisting around a bit, it was tolerable. He let out a choked laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"You did it."

Harry's arms squeezed once around him. "Don't thank me yet. Can you sit up?"

Draco nodded, and was immediately helped into a sitting position. Harry knelt in front of him, unceremoniously grabbed his arm, and pulled back his sleeve. The angry red lines which had radiated out from the bite itself were retracting towards the punctures before his eyes. The site still hurt a bit, and there was still some swelling, but it was obvious that the poison had been neutralized.

Draco laughed again, and this time, it was a lot easier. He tried to compose himself. "It took you long enough," he drawled, attempting to compensate for the tears threatening to leak out of his eyes.

Harry finally laughed too. "Yup, you're definitely yourself again. Oh well, it could be worse." He shook his head with a resigned sigh. "Come here."

"Huh?"

Harry reached forward and pressed a hand against Draco's cheek, then his forehead. Before Draco could question it further, Harry had grasped his wrist, and was checking his pulse.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing?"

"Checking to make sure there are no side effects. How does your stomach feel? Can you take a deep breath?"

Draco supposed he should simply answer Harry's questions, but he was too irked by the unexpected fawning to let it go at that. He pulled his wrist away from Harry's fingers. "Harry, if you followed the formula I gave you, then I'm sure it's going to be fine."

Harry's mouth twisted into a frown. "Actually, if I followed the formula you gave me, the resulting explosion would have blown us both up, or poisoned you."

"What?"

Harry gave a laugh which sounded anything but entertained. "You became a bit... er... incoherent about halfway through the instructions. You started talking about dragon scales, salamander bile, toad livers, and pineapple."

Draco felt his mouth go dry. "Then... then how did... how did you..."

"Don't worry. By the time you finished describing the first two steps of the potion, I recognized it myself. I had been so nervous at first that I hadn't even realised I knew the antidote, but once you'd tipped me in the right direction, I remembered. After my experience with a basilisk, and then knowing that Voldemort has a thing for snakes, I figured snakebite remedies might come in handy. So, I actually paid attention in that lesson." Harry smiled. "Good thing, too. Heh. Pineapple."

Draco couldn't tell if he was shocked, relieved, or just simply grateful that Harry had paid attention in Potions for once. He settled for being far too tired to pick one. "So, why the worry about side effects if you knew how to brew this? There aren't any for this potion, unless you brewed it wrong... and you knew how to brew it... so you did it right. Right? I mean, you didn't make a mistake, did you?"

"Well..."

"Harry?" Draco felt a flash of panic. "And by the way, where did you manage to find wild basil?"

"Well, that's just it," Harry said nervously. He looked like he wanted to hide. "I didn't."

"What? You... what... then how did you...?"

"Substitute," Harry said simply. "Juniper. Supposed to work similarly, but not as strong."

Draco hadn't just heard that. "Harry, please tell me you didn't."

"I had to, Draco! There was nothing else!"

Draco clutched his arm to his chest. "What if you'd made a mistake?"

"Er... that's why I tried it on myself first." Harry seemed to be shrinking backwards, looking very sheepish.

Draco stared at him and shook his head, trying to clear it. "Harry, you can't take an antidote safely unless you've been poisoned."

If anything, Harry seemed even more nervous. "I know."

Realization dawned on Draco, and he grasped Harry's arm and pulled back the sleeve, hoping that his suspicions wouldn't be confirmed. He was almost sick at the sight of two telltale puncture holes on the underside of Harry's forearm. As Draco looked from Harry's arm to his face, emotion boiled over.

"ARE YOU INSANE? You let a bloody snake bite you? On purpose? To try an antidote with a substituted ingredient? What kind of stupid, self-sacrificing, hero boy GRYFFINDOR would go and willingly let a poisonous reptile sink its fangs into his arm?" By now, Draco had grasped Harry by the shoulders and was shaking him with each emphasis point. "And what if you'd been WRONG? What if the antidote hadn't worked? What if you'd poisoned yourself twice over? What if you... you..."

Draco's voice trailed off as he looked into Harry's eyes. Harry actually looked... well... upset.

"What if I hadn't? You didn't leave me," Harry said quietly. "I wasn't going to leave you."

Draco let that statement permeate his brain, which was still rather foggy. He wasn't sure if Harry meant he wasn't going to leave Draco behind, or that he wasn't going to let him continue to suffer until the poison worked its way out of his system naturally. Or maybe Harry meant that he wasn't going to die of the poison himself, thereby leaving Draco alone. Or... maybe he meant all of them. Draco stared at Harry for a long moment, not sure what he could say to that.

He let go of Harry and sat back with an awkward thud. His head was beginning to ache, and he wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the snakebite. Pressing his forehead against the heel of his hand, he shook his head to himself, muttering. "You stupid, stupid, crazy, selfless, stupid Gryffindor."

"Er... you're welcome?"

Draco cast a sideways glance at Harry. "Now don't everdo something that fucking stupid again," he said weakly.

Harry's face was unreadable, and Draco couldn't tell if he was becoming defensive, or if he simply knew that this was Draco's way of coping. "It's not like I had many other choices."

Draco let his scowl soften. "No, I suppose not."

"And I told the snake not to bite hard. The amount of venom I got probably would have only left me a little bit sick, so it was worth the risk. And it all worked, so it was definitely worth the risk." Harry's words sounded like he was trying to justify it to himself, and his eyes seemed to be looking for approval. "I'm just afraid that the antidote won't be quite strong enough to completely neutralize the venom. I mean... if it had been brewed properly, you'd feel perfectly normal now. How do you feel?"

Draco cocked his head as he turned his attention inwards. It had been such a relief when the pain had subsided that he hadn't bothered to notice anything else. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed that he did still feel a bit ill. And cold. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, hoping the motion looked casual enough to be a gesture.

"I'm fine. Really." When it became obvious that Harry wasn't buying it, Draco sighed. "Okay, so my stomach feels a bit funny."

Harry frowned. "You're shivering."

Before Draco could protest, Harry had picked up the cloak, which had fallen to the side, and was pulling it around Draco's shoulders. The little bit of wind caused by the moving cloth forced a deep shiver through him, and he realised that he really was still quite chilled.

Damn him for patronizing me! Oh fuck, damn him for being right, I'm freezing my bits off.

Instinctively, Draco pulled the cloak tighter around himself.

"Maybe you should lie down for a while," Harry suggested.

"Potter, your potion worked well enough, and I'm fine, and we really ought to be moving again soon anyway, and -"

"Draco, the sun has already set," Harry said with a hint of amusement. "In case you hadn't noticed."

Draco sat up a little straighter, suddenly taking note of the fact that the world around him was lit in the diffuse light of dusk. He really hadn't noticed. "Oh."

Harry's mouth quirked with an attempted smile that didn't quite make it. "And even if it hadn't, you're not going anywhere until you get some rest. The rest of the venom still needs to work its way out of your system. Here, you sit and stay warm while I set up the tent." He flicked his wand at the ground and conjured up a small purple fire. "That should do for now. The ground isn't as dry as I'd hoped, but it'll be fine with a few charms, and the sky is clear. We're here for the night."

Draco almost found himself replying with a resigned yes, sir, but he really didn't even feel like saying that much. Instead, he just nodded and stared into the flames. Off to the side, Harry began setting up the tent at the very edge of the field, where they'd have just a bit of overhead cover from the trees. Although Draco had always been used to servants and house-elves doing everything for him, for the past several days, he and Harry had set up camp together every night. It felt oddnot to be helping, but at the same time, he knew Harry was taking care of him. He supposed he should be grateful, but somehow, he felt more guilty than anything.

"Harry?" The word came out a bit more strained than he'd intended.

The other boy paused in his task. "Yes?"

"I... thank you."

Harry didn't seem to react for a moment, but then a soft smile spread across his face. A real smile this time, however small it was. "I understand." The unspoken you're welcome hung warmly in the air between them, clearer than when he'd said it aloud.

While Harry returned to the task of setting up camp, Draco pulled the cloak up tighter around him. So much for avoiding wildlife, he thought sullenly. The previous two days had been so idyllic, he'd almost let himself forget that they were on the run, in danger, in the wilderness, with no protection but their wands and each other. It had almost felt like a time and place away from the rest of the world, where the rules were different somehow. Like the rules didn't apply anymore.

It was in that moment that Draco developed a sudden respect for rules. Rules meant structure. Structure meant safety. Under the cloak, he squeezed his forearm impulsively.

Here, the only rules were the ones he and Harry created for themselves... and the pressure imposed by the waxing moon, which was now visible hovering above the trees on the far side of the field. Draco swallowed once and looked away.

"Draco, the tent is set up."

Draco looked up at Harry, who was pulling aside one of the flaps of the tent, inviting him in. He sighed to himself. Regardless of whether or not Harry thought it had been worth the risk of potentially poisoning himself twice, his actions told Draco something more clearly than words. Harry was willing to risk his life for Draco.

Harry might have the emotional intelligence of a Flobberworm - oblivious Gryffindor - but his loyalties were strong and straightforward. And reckless. Don't forget reckless.

Draco sighed deeply as he stood on slightly unsteady legs. He gave Harry what he hoped was a reassuring nod as he ducked into the tent, but he didn't feel like speaking. He was tired, his head still hurt, and he couldn't quite stop thinking about what Harry had just done for him.

Harry settled under the cloak with him, but was lying on his stomach, looking out across the field through the open flap of the tent. Apparently, he wasn't in the mood to sleep yet, but he didn't seem to want to talk much either, or at least, he wasn't going to push conversation. Draco was grateful for that. He didn't feel like talking either. He was exhausted, and he could still feel the residual ache in his stomach. He fell asleep quickly, but even with Harry warm against his back, it was a long time before his restless slumber quieted into the depths of sleep where his body could heal.

*********

"Draco?"

A hushed voice whispered in Draco's ear. He opened one eye partway to see that it was the middle of the night. The tent flap was still open, and a soft breeze was ruffling his hair. The cloak was warm, he had been blissfully free from dreams so far that night, and he had no intention of allowing himself to be fully awoken. Hoping that Harry hadn't seen him open his eye, he quickly shut it again and settled back into the warmth of the cloak.

A hand grasped his shoulder firmly and shook it. "Draco! Wake up!"

Harry's voice was still a whisper, but it was far more persistent this time.

And Draco was now far more determined not to be roused. He was tired, and his head still hurt. With a grunt, he grabbed the edge of the cloak, pulled it up to his chin, and turned his shoulder squarely away from his tormentor.

A split second later, the cloak was ripped from his body.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" he snapped as he sat up in a flash. "As you well know, I had a very traumatic day! I was warm, comfortable, and asleep and you had to -"

He was sharply cut off as Harry's hand sealed itself over his mouth.

Harry's face was inches from his own, eyes wide and easily visible in the dim light. "Shh! Be quiet, or you'll scare them away!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

Draco shook his face free of Harry's grasp and rubbed at his aching temples, but for the sake of argument, kept his voice down. "What the hell are you talking about? Scare who away?"

Harry merely grinned back at him broadly and inclined his head towards the field. He was obviously excited about something.

Rolling his eyes, Draco figured it would be easier to merely humour Harry's strange behaviour if he ever wanted to get some sleep. With a melodramatic sigh, he turned towards the open field -

- and his breath caught in his throat.

All over the field, small lights, each no larger than his hand, were floating just above the tops of the grasses. They moved in no particular pattern, yet they all seemed to be dancing in time to unheard music. The field itself seemed to glow with magic; a pearly blue iridescence that left the moon and stars pale in comparison.

Draco sat frozen at the sight, hardly noticing that his throat was still quite choked up. Were it not for the remnants of his headache, he would have been irreversibly convinced that he was dreaming. It was beautiful. It was otherworldly. It was...

"It's what your nurse told you about, isn't it?" Harry asked softly next to him. "The fairies. Fairy rings. They're real."

Draco spared a split second to glance at Harry, whose face was softly outlined in the pale blue light. He was still staring out at the field in awe, mouth slightly opened, eyes wide as though desperately trying to take in more of the sight. Draco highly suspected that his own expression was a close match. He turned back towards the field and whispered, "Yeah." It was all he could think to say.

In front of him, the fairies continued their unearthly dance. The rest of the world didn't exist. No dangers. No rivers, snakes, pits, Death Eaters, or Voldemort. Even the fact that he'd been rudely awoken from a blissful sleep had been completely forgotten. There was the grass, the soft breeze, the earth beneath him, the stars and moon above, all serving as nothing but mere props to the strange but beautiful performance that existed for his eyes alone.

His... and Harry's. The lights flickered across Harry's face, and Draco's attention shifted from one startling sight to the other. He'd caught Harry looking at him a few times over the past couple of days, and now he was doing it himself, but he didn't even realise he was staring.

"It's beautiful," Harry breathed softly.

"Yeah," Draco said again.

Harry glanced sideways at Draco with a mischievous grin on his face. "So... you forgive me for waking you up, I assume?"

The odd glint in Harry's eye caused Draco's reply to die on his tongue, and instead, he nodded. Harry tipped his head in acknowledgement and looked back out across the field, and Draco finally found himself able to breathe normally again. Whatever he was feeling was simply not normal. He couldn't tell if it was painful or pleasurable, but the strange warmth had settled in his chest, making his heart beat a little too fast, and his breath a little too shallow. Draco looked back out at the fairies again.

It's just the fairies. Matilda always said that fairy magic leaves people entranced. That's all.

Draco had just started to convince himself of that when Harry let out a sudden laugh.

"What's so funny?"

Harry laughed again. "Do you hear it?"

Draco cocked his head. "Hear what?"

But Harry didn't answer. Before Draco could react, Harry had launched himself forward in a blur, racing across the field wildly.

"Harry!" Draco sat in shock for a moment before realizing that he ought to follow. If Harry got too far away, the Mislocator would be useless. He scrambled to his feet and began running, ignoring the last traces of the weakness left by the snake venom. "What are you doing!" he called out as he ran, trying desperately to catch up. "Have you gone mad?"

Ahead of him, Harry ran in odd zigzags through the grass, whooping and laughing, arms outstretched like wings. For a split second, Draco thought he really was going to fly. Rather than scaring the fairies away, the glowing creatures seemed to sense what Harry was doing, and they joined into his madness, swirling around him, following him.

Draco stumbled to a standstill in the middle of the field, breathing hard, watching in disbelief as Harry ran through the field in broad spiralling sweeps, with a swirl of fairy lights trailing behind him. It was as though Harry was one of them, as though he belonged there; a creature of pure magic. Draco quickly lost track of everything else, watching Harry's antics. Swoop around, spiral, sprint forward, swoop again, like he was flying. Soon, Draco realised that Harry was indeed flying, at least, in his mind. His movements were Seeker's manoeuvres. Even on the ground, he looked graceful, not like the lanky refugee he was.

Suddenly, Harry was running right at Draco. Before he could react, Harry had grabbed his hands, and they were whirling together, spinning around a common centre of gravity. The shadowy world beyond Harry's face blurred, and the fairies turned into streaks of blue light. Harry was laughing freely, throwing his head back and letting the motion take him, and Draco found that he was laughing too. His hands grasped tightly to Harry's, and he could feel Harry squeezing back, not letting him go, locked in their whirl of light and shadow.

Every worry and care faded away. There was nothing but the lights, the ground beneath his feet, the starry sky above, and Harry. It was the happiest Draco had ever felt.

Finally, after forever, and far too soon, Harry slowed them both, and they fell softly into the grass.

Draco lay still on his back as the world kept spinning around him, feeling the rush of air in his chest as he caught his breath. It burned, but it felt so wonderful, so alive. Above, the fairies continued their dance as though nothing had happened, swirling around Harry and himself at the centre of their ring. Next to him, he felt the warmth of Harry's arm barely touching his own, heard the sound of Harry's quick breathing.

"That was..." Harry started, "That was... it was..."

"Absolutely incredible," Draco finished for him.

It was Harry's turn to reply with a vague, "Yeah."

There was a rustling in the grass beside Draco, and a hand held out over his face. He grasped Harry's hand and let himself be pulled up to a seated position. His mind still reeling from what had just happened, Draco looked around. The grasses had dried completely from the rains of the previous day, and were standing tall, just higher than his and Harry's heads, leaving them secluded in a small nest of grass and light. Turning his attention to Harry, Draco's heart skipped a beat again.

Even in the blue light, Harry's face was obviously flushed. His hair was whipped back from his face, standing wildly in all directions. The most obvious thing though, even in the fairy light, were his eyes, which almost glowed with a brilliant intensity.

He was smiling at Draco widely, mouth open to catch as much air as possible. "I can't believe... it's so..."

"Harry, don't talk," Draco cut him off. "For once, don't say anything. You've already made your point. Enjoy it."

Harry nodded and turned his gaze away, staring in rapt attention at the lights above him. This gave Draco the perfect opportunity to study him freely. It hardly seemed possible that this was the same face that had glared defiantly at Voldemort. Somewhere under this face was the person who still intimidated Draco. The powerful Harry Potter who did things Draco could never do, who was so much stronger, who Draco envied and couldn't help but admire. But Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen. Now, it was just Harry. Harry who had saved Draco's life. Harry who had stood sheepishly in the river while Draco had calmly Summoned the fish for dinner. Harry who had risked poisoning himself for Draco. Harry, whose face almost seemed to be glowing with its own magic, which made Draco all but forget the fairies.

They were so close, Draco noticed with a start. Faces barely more than a foot away from each other. Legs brushing side to side. So close... and it felt so comfortable. Perhaps that was because they had already become close. There were some things you couldn't go through with a person without forming a tight bond, and a near brush with death was one of those things. Several such incidents, and... well... Draco was suddenly quite sure that his friendship with Harry would be completely unlike any other he could ever have. Here, away from everything familiar and miles from civilisation, Draco felt less alone than he ever had in his life. Here, sitting side by side in a fairy ring with Harry Potter.

And Draco knew he wouldn't want to be there with anyone else.

Slowly, unsure of exactly why he was doing this, he reached out his hand and gently rested it on Harry's leg. Harry looked down, eyes still wide, but this time, with surprise. Suddenly embarrassed, Draco pulled his hand away, but Harry reached out and caught it, their clasped hands hovering between them.

"It's okay," Harry said with relaxed but unreadable expression on his face. "I understand."

No, you don't, Draco thought plaintively, because I don't understand it myself. Outwardly, he merely nodded.

Harry smiled and released his hand. Draco let his own hand hover in the air for a moment before letting it drop into his lap. He looked down at it, and suddenly, the carefree joy he'd felt moments ago was replaced by a sinking feeling. Why the hell had he just done that? What had that been for? It was completely ridiculous.

"I'm sorry," Draco said into his lap.

Harry didn't respond for a moment, and Draco felt sure that Harry must be re-evaluating the entire event. He was probably confused. He was probably irritated, or even angry. He was -

He was picking up Draco's hand again, squeezing it tightly with his right hand and enfolding it with his left. "I said it's okay, Draco. It's a little strange out here, that's all. But it's amazing. There's something about this place... I'm sure you can feel it. You know what I mean. And I know... I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else, either."

Without dropping Draco's hand, Harry cocked his head to the side, and a huge smile blossomed across his face again. "Listen! Do you hear it? You have to be able to hear it from here!"

"Hear what?" Draco asked, utterly perplexed at the same question Harry had asked just before he'd dashed headlong into the ring.

"Just listen."

"But -"

"Just listen."

So Draco listened. Moments stretched out, with his hand still tightly clasped in Harry's. He listened to the wind in the grass, the rustling of leaves. He squirmed. There was the fluttering of some nocturnal bird's wings, the faint buzz of some insects. He fidgeted, strained to listen, but there was nothing.

"Harry, there's nothing. This is -"

"You're trying too hard. Just relax. It's there. It's all around."

"Harry -"

Harry squeezed his hand again. "Just relax."

Trying not to think about how silly he felt, Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. For a minute, nothing changed. Then, just as his mind was beginning to drift, he caught something. Faint at first, but then louder and clearer as seconds passed.

It was a bright chiming, light and melodious. The sound seemed to go right through Draco, and he gasped in amazement. He opened his eyes, but the sounds didn't stop. Now he could see that the fairies were indeed moving in rhythm to actual music. The music was inside his head, and Draco felt as though he should be moving too; dancing, flying. Now he knew exactly why Harry had run off like he did.

Draco looked back at Harry's face. Again, Harry was gazing up at the fairies, eyes shining. As Draco watched, the shining in Harry's eyes collected at the corners, and slowly, at tear ran down each cheek, the open mouthed smile of awe never fading from his face. For all that Harry had been tormented and disillusioned his entire life, underneath that hardened surface, he really did still have a sort of innocence that Draco could have never expected, but that only made it so much more amazing.

And beautiful.

And Draco wanted to protect him.

Which only reminded him that he couldn't.

Draco averted his gaze from Harry's face and looked up again. In the sky, beyond the dancing fairies, the stars twinkled faintly, and the moon...

The moon, noticeably larger than a half moon, suddenly looked threatening. In the middle of the field, where Draco had felt so safe moments before, he felt terrifyingly exposed. He pulled his hand from Harry's grasp, wrapped his arms around himself, and shivered.

"Hey... you okay?" Harry was staring at him with a sudden look of concern. "Is it the venom?"

"Of course. Absolutely fine," Draco said lightly. "Just felt a chill there. That's all."

Harry's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Do you want to go back to the tent?"

Draco thought about that. It was tempting, and he did feel exposed, but he couldn't voice his irrational fear to Harry.

"No, just... it's not important."

Harry assessed Draco with a piercing gaze. He tipped his head to the side thoughtfully, then pulled out his wand. "Accio cloak and pack!"

A moment later, their hasty campsite had been reassembled in the middle of the field. The Invisibility Cloak tent was dissembled, and the Cloak itself used only as simple concealment over their warmer cloak. It wouldn't rain any more that night. Draco pulled his half of their makeshift blanket around himself, and spread the other half out for Harry.

"Thanks," Draco said softly as he adjusted his half of the cloak.

"No problem. We do need to get some sleep anyway, as much fun as that was." Harry sighed. "You sure you're okay?"

"Do you need me to beat you about the head? I already said I'm fine."

Harry smiled sadly, and Draco felt a sharp twinge of guilt. In his pocket, he ran his hand over the notches on the counting stick. Ten. And he'd forgotten to cut one before they'd fallen asleep last night. Even with the blissful influence of the fairies washing over his mind like a balm, the harsh reality was breaking through. They were running out of time, and he had no idea how much farther they needed to go. He shouldn't be having fun at a time like this. There were more pressing things. They needed rest so they could travel fast. Time was slipping away.

He glanced up at the moon again, which was still staring down at him menacingly. There was no way Harry could have missed the shudder that ran through him again, which was confirmed when Harry slid over next to him.

"Draco, lie down and rest. I shouldn't have woken you up like that. After the snakebite and all, you needed to sleep."

Draco snorted softly. "Harry, it's not the snakebite. Your antidote worked really well, better than I would have thought possible with a substituted ingredient. And I'm glad you woke me up... I wouldn't have wanted to miss this for anything. I... I was just thinking about other stuff. Home. You know."

Harry smiled sympathetically. "It's okay, I understand. We've survived this far, and we're getting closer. We'll get there when we get there, and you'll have a nice warm bed, and it'll all be fine. That's what I keep telling myself."

Draco nodded, but didn't trust his voice. With a shaky sigh, he pulled the cloak up to his chin and lay down with his back to Harry. Behind him, Harry shifted, but didn't lie down. A hand rested lightly on Draco's shoulder.

"You know, if you need anything... anything at all... just let me know. I'll listen"

It was all Draco could do to nod.

Harry took a deep breath, and a moment later, Draco felt Harry's warm back pressed against his own. It was comforting, but he still felt too far away. Draco tried to close his eyes and sleep, but the fairy lights danced before his eyes, which were peeled wide open. He listened for the chimes, hoping the soothing sound would help, but there was nothing but silence. He almost wanted to cry.

Gradually, he felt Harry's breathing slow, and soon, he knew that Harry was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of his own personal danger or of Draco's duress and worry. It wasn't fair! Not fair that Draco felt like his insides were being tied in knots while Harry slept peacefully. Not fair that Harry was subconsciously listening to the sweet music of the fairy ring, while Draco's own inner turmoil had rendered the song silent to his ears. Not fair that Draco was back to back with the one person he could honestly say he felt closest to in the world, yet he felt so completely alone and isolated.

Draco rolled over in place, facing Harry's back under the cloak, and reached out to tap Harry on the shoulder. His fingers were hovering just above Harry's neck when he hesitated. Stopped completely. Withdrew his hand and wrapped his arms tightly around himself and bit his tongue out of his sudden, inexplicable sense of shame. He couldn't wake Harry up. What would he say? What could he say? And why was he going to wake Harry in the first place?

He wasn't about to ruin this for Harry. How many people had ever spent a night in a real fairy ring? It was too incredible, and Draco didn't feel he could forgive himself if he woke Harry for something that could be discussed later. Or, in the case of Draco's own personal worries, not at all.

Now that his own entrancement by the fairy magic had worn off, Draco realized with a sudden sense of embarrassment just how ridiculous he'd been acting all along. Holding Harry's hand? Touching his leg? He hadn't wanted to do that, had he?

Draco closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He wasn't sure what he'd wanted, but regardless, he never should have done it. Then again, there were a lot of things he never should have done.

Finally, Draco fell into an uneasy sleep, facing Harry's back, with the sick sensation of regret clinging to his ribs.
*

********

There was no mistaking where he was, although for several long moments in the darker-than-blackness, Draco desperately tried to block out anything but the fleeting hope that he wasn't trapped in the familiar nightmare personally designed for him by Voldemort.

I'm not really here. I'm not really here. This isn't happening. I'm curled up under the cloak, sleeping with Harry. I'm safe. I'm safe...

The familiar laugh rumbled around him through the void, but if it was even possible, the tone was even more cruel than before. The hatred and fury rolled across him in waves.

"Safe? You try to fool yourself with the delusion that you are safe, Malfoy?"

"I am safe," Draco whispered silently to himself. "You can't touch me. I'm safe. Harry's here. He won't let you have me. And I won't let you have him."

"Make no mistake, Malfoy. I already have you. You are mine, within my reach. You are merely beyond my grasp at the moment. In the end, it will be the same. You wait. I'll have you."

Despite his barely restrained panic, something about that phrase actually brought a bemused grin to Draco's non-face.

"You find something amusing, little boy?"

What do I have to lose? I'm dead anyway, right? "Yes, I do."

"The dead boy becomes bold, I see." The hissing voice cut through him, and the sound brought back the memory of his last encounter with a serpent. Even without a body in this place, he imagined he could feel the ghosts of the snake's fangs in his arm. That little snake was nothing compared to the one hissing at him now. "So, stupid child, enlighten me. What is so amusing?"

Draco was afraid, but there was something veiling his fear. He felt reckless, but it felt good. Maybe Harry's Gryffindor stupidity was rubbing off on him, but he didn't care. It didn't matter. "You are, you blundering oaf!"

When there was no immediate retaliation, Draco let loose a laugh in the darkness. "You can't touch me! You can't find us! You could have killed Harry before, but you didn't, and you lost him! And you won't have him back! And you won't have me!"

Draco was sure that if he had had a body in this place, his blood would be rushing in his ears, his breath would be shallow, and he'd be feeling that dizzy sort of elation that a suicidal person must feel just as he steps over the edge of a cliff.

The pitch blackness suddenly took on a tint of red, like the colour of old dried blood. Draco thought he saw two smoky pinpricks of sharper red standing out in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. The voice around him boomed like thunder.

"I OWN YOU, MALFOY!"

"No," Draco said thoughtfully, "I think you had me on loan, but the lease is up."

Voldemort's voice pierced through him like fangs, burning him. "You are foolish not to recognize your situation, but your life is already forfeit to me, regardless. But MAKE NO MISTAKE, I will watch Malfoy blood spilt on my glorious night, as the moon shines blood red."

Draco felt a brush of cold reality cut through his hot giddiness. "Decided to save my mother for the grand finale then? Didn't bother to kill her yet?" he asked, trying to sound like he didn't care. There was nothing he could do either way.

An image flashed through Draco's mind: his mother, hanging from chains on a dungeon wall. Blood streaked her previously fine silk robes, and her limbs were twisted unnaturally in their restraints. Her eyes were closed, and her chest wasn't moving. The image was gone just as quickly as it came, but for the first time since this vision had started, Draco felt his emotions crack.

"But then... you... what..."

"Before your time, your father gave himself to me in the same way you did. Except he is not the cowering fool his spawn is. A shame his bloodline is forever tainted. He will die, little brat, for your mistakes."

No...

"Oh, does the fool miss his daddy? Too late for that now, boy. And you wanted to make him so proud. You've shamed him."

Oh no...

"Your greatest wish, wasn't it? To have your father's pride? To be the son he wanted? You are nothing but a failure, boy. You've lost your father, just as you will lose Potter, and you will die yourself when the time is right."

That was the heavy hammer stroke. His cracked and broken façade fell apart completely, leaving his core exposed to the void. "NO! No, don't do it! Not my father! He was loyal! NO! Merlin, please, help, NO! Never wanted... to betray my father... no... just wanted him to be proud of me... Father..."

Draco collapsed in a sobbing heap as all the emotions he'd hidden under his mask of foolhardy defiance overwhelmed him. Harry, please, get me out of this! I can't take this any more... please help me...

"I will have Potter here, so I can watch his body collapse lifeless at my feet, or your father shall take his place!"

"No," Draco protested weakly between sobs. "You won't have Harry. I won't let you..." Harry, please...

It might have just been his wishful thinking, but for a brief moment, Draco almost felt as if Harry were there. Not holding his physical body as he had before, back in the waking world, but present in the void, standing beside him. It was faint, and it was probably nothing more than a hallucination, but Draco clung to the illusion like a lifeline. He couldn't compose himself entirely, but the convulsive sobs quieted, just enough.

As soon as the sobbing stopped racking his chest painfully, he felt the immediate pressure of Voldemort's mind against his, trying to twist his thoughts from inside his head, piercing through his consciousness. It was a dull agonizing pressure that felt so heavy, and Draco tried to push it away, but it was spearing deeper into his thoughts. He could feel himself weakening under the assault.

Harry, help...

The sensation of Harry's presence increased, and Draco felt a tiny spark of confidence. Not much, but it felt good. He tried to grip it through the void, and with that tiny boost of strength, he pushed the sharp probe in his mind again. This time, it budged.

Voldemort's immediate response to the repulsion was fury. "You are MINE, boy! You will do as I say, or you will suffer for my pleasure!"

The red glow intensified through the blackness, and Draco heard a hiss of pain. He wasn't sure if it was from himself, or from somewhere else, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to be weak, and he wasn't going to be toyed with.

"I WAS NEVER YOURS! AND YOU'LL NEVER HAVE ME!"

"I OWN YOU! CRUCIO!"

Time seemed to slow as the bright flash of the curse burst through the darkness. He can't be doing that. If he could have, he would have sooner. He's just trying to intimidate me. It won't hurt. IT WON'T HURT! Unless he figured out how to... or was saving this weapon... or -

Draco had no more time to think before the curse struck him. He had no body, but he had pain. He was pain. Burning from the inside out, stabbing from the outside in. Everywhere. It was eating through him, devouring him, killing him. He would die in the reddened darkness, alone. Harry couldn't save him, he couldn't save himself. Voldemort had him. Voldemort owned him.

His last shreds of conscious thought were about to be consumed by the pain when he felt something wrap around him. Instantly, the pain dulled. Disappeared.

A voice screamed in his ear. "Get out of here, Draco! GO!"The words dissolved into helpless screaming.

Draco tried to reach out for Harry, but he couldn't. He had a presence, but no body; no arms for reaching, no hands for grabbing. The void began to fade into grey, and Draco felt like he was being pulled backwards. The screams echoed as though from a distance.

Draco came to with the sound of screaming in his ear, and the dim light of morning too bright against his eyes. He was still in the field, but the fairies were gone, and the day was breaking. He tried to sit upright, but found himself restrained by Harry's arms.

Harry's convulsing arms.

He looked in shock to see Harry clinging to him, his whole body shaking with the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Draco had no proof, but he was sure that Harry was somehow caught in the vision he'd just left. Harry's eyes were closed, but it looked like he was actively struggling to open them as he alternately screamed in pain and clenched his mouth shut. He already bitten through his lip, and a bit of blood was trickling across his chin. His wand was lying off to the side.

"HARRY!" Draco wrenched himself loose and immediately grasped Harry's upper arms. "Come out of it, Harry! Wake up, damn you! Fight it! He's just in your mind! It's not the real curse... he's just making you believe it is! You can beat this! Harry!"

Harry continued to thrash and flail in Draco's grip, and Draco felt the icy sensation of helplessness. There was no sign of him coming out of the vision, and while Draco was certain the illusion of pain hadn't lessened, Harry's struggles were beginning to grow weaker as exhaustion began to take hold.

Draco clamped his teeth onto his own lip, trying to think clearly. Harry had pulled him out of one of the visions once... it was possible. How had he done it?

On a flash of impulsiveness, Draco pulled Harry sharply upright and wrapped his arms tightly around the shaking body. He clutched Harry to his chest, fighting against the unconscious jerking and twitching, not caring that Harry was going to leave a few nasty bruises on his torso.

"I've got you, Harry. I've got you. It's not real; he's only got your mind. I've got you. Can you hear me? Come on, Harry! You're stronger than him! I know you are! I've got you. I've got you..."

Harry suddenly gave a single sharp jerk and one loud cry, and Draco knew he'd broken through. In the next instant, Harry collapsed against Draco. His fingers dug painfully into Draco's forearms, and his chest was heaving, not quite gasping, not quite sobbing, but a bit of both. "Oh, Merlin..." he choked.

"Don't talk, Harry. Just breathe. Breathe for a moment."

Harry shook his head against Draco's neck. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He coughed a couple of times, before he managed to draw a proper breath. That seemed to be enough to convince him that he was over the shock of what had just happened, and he pushed back, still shaking, to look at Draco. "God, Draco, are you okay?"

Draco stared back in disbelief. "You just went through that, and you're asking if I'm okay? He only had the curse on me for a couple of seconds before you... " He paused and shot Harry a sharp look. "Crazy, insane hero boy. Are you okay?"

Harry swallowed. He was still breathing hard. "I told you, I'm fine. What did -"

"And how the hell did you get in there? Into the vision?"

"Legilimency," Harry answered simply.

Not that Draco had been expecting any specific answer, but if he had, that wouldn't have been it. "You...how do you know the first thing about Legilimency?"

Harry looked away for a second before he replied. "Snape was teaching me Occlumency last year, and it didn't go over so well. If it had gone better... well... never mind. I really needed to learn it, and I didn't. So this year, starting over the summer - not that Snape was thrilled with having to work with me again - he started with a little bit of theory behind Occlumency and Legilimency before getting into the practical stuff. He didn't actually teach me the Legilimens Spell, but he used it enough times that I might as well have learnt it... Draco, what was Voldemort saying to you?"

Harry slipped the question in so casually that Draco was opening his mouth to answer before he even realised what the question was. As soon as he did, however, he clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't repeat what Voldemort had said. That would be too much. That would make it real.

It was the final threat. The last card Voldemort could play against him, and it was the trump card.

Father...

"Draco?" Harry was staring at him with that sympathetic look which could be either comforting or damned annoying. This time, it was a bit of both. "What is it?"

Draco felt his hands start to shake. Then his arms. And his shoulders. The aftershock of the vision was starting to set in now that he was recalling the actual event.

His head was swimming.

Father... Harry... going to lose them both. Harry's going to die. I can't save him. Fuck, I've been collecting ingredients, but I don't have a bloody clue what to do with them! And Father! He can't! He won't... Father was always loyal! Why on earth would he kill those loyal to him? He's just trying to scare me... that wasn't real... Mother isn't dead, Father won't die...

But what if it is real? It felt real. He'll kill my dad! He's a madman! Father! Harry...

Draco's thoughts spun around in his head until he was dizzy, and it took him a moment to notice that Harry was gripping his shoulders and shaking him a bit.

"Draco, look at me!"

"Wha...?"

"What did you see? What did Voldemort tell you?"

Draco shook his head in awkward, halting movements. "I... I can't... not right now."

Harry's lips twisted pensively, and he seemed to be debating which was more important: Draco's comfort, or his own need to know. Need-to-know must have won out.

"Draco, what did he say?"

"I SAID NOT NOW!" The words snapped out before Draco could stop them, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to. He was upset, confused, and just then, he didn't want to deal with any of it. "Not now... not now... we need to move."

Harry didn't react for a moment; he looked slightly stunned. "Maybe we should eat breakfast before we -"

"Not hungry," Draco bit out. "Need to move."

Right now, the best place for them to be was Hogwarts. Draco didn't have any idea how much farther they needed to travel, but one thing for sure was that it wouldn't do any more good to sit around and wait. Time was running out. It was amazing how quickly two weeks could disappear. Four more days.

Draco remembered that he hadn't put a notch in his counting stick the previous night, which only spurred his anger even more.

Three days.

He stood quickly, cursing the fact that one of his legs seemed to have fallen asleep, and began to stalk off unsteadily. Behind him, Harry was making a great deal of noise stuffing the cloaks into the pack. Harry's footsteps rustled the grasses as he rushed to catch up. Draco stiffened, fully expecting Harry to launch into a tirade, demanding to know what was wrong, but he didn't.

Harry settled into step beside Draco and didn't say a word. He incanted a soft "Point Me!" to check their direction, and indicated with a wave of his hand that they were going the right way. When Harry placed an apple in his hand, Draco accepted it with a nod of his head, but didn't say anything.

*

********

The morning passed in an uncomfortable silence. They made their way through rocky fields and thin patches of forest, and across small streams, always taking the route with as much overhead cover as possible. Draco didn't have to spell out the fact that he was worried, and if he could just allow Harry to believe that he was merely afraid that Voldemort was going to step up the search effort, then that would work for now. It would keep Harry from pushing the question.

Right now, Draco couldn't handle the questions. He couldn't handle the thoughts ricocheting around inside his head, accompanied by the cold, clammy ghost of Voldemort's mind inside his own. The Dark Lord had to be cracking deeper and deeper into his head each time, he thought. Otherwise, he never would have been able to create the illusion of the Cruciatus.

The actual curse worked directly on the brain, firing off every pain receptor in the body from the inside. It was one of the less grotesque Dark spells, actually; just brutal. So, it wasn't unreasonable for the curse to be triggered from inside the mind. Voldemort had already forged a bridge into his mind, creating terrifying sights and sounds. In truth, the Cruciatus was an easy step from there.

Draco briefly wondered how Voldemort had turned the curse so easily on Harry before he remembered that Harry was connected to Voldemort even more closely.

Too closely.

Draco wrenched his thoughts away from that track, and noticed he had been absently fingering the ingredients in his pocket. He sighed. One problem to another. He pinched one of the quince seeds between two fingers until it hurt, pressing deeply into his skin, and wondered what the hell he was going to do with them.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He had been collecting the ingredients to ease his own mind, to feel like was doing something productive and taking the initiative, but now, all he could hear was Voldemort laughing in his head, calling him foolish and stupid. And maybe he was. He couldn't do anything to save Harry, or himself, or his father. It was so hopeless. So foolish.

His mind kept drifting from Harry to his father. What the hell was he going to do? Give himself and Harry to save his father? Lucius Malfoy, the man who had come hunting him with Muggle dogs barely a week ago? Who wouldn't hesitate to kill him for Voldemort? Whose loyalty to his own blood extended only as far as Draco's usefulness to the family name?

But he's my father!

And then there was Harry... who was... something.Something like a friend, but indefinable. Something so very different, something that Draco wouldn't sacrifice for anything.

Which left Draco right where he had started: upset, confused, and without any idea how to proceed. He tried to blank his mind, in hopes that an answer, possibly in the form of Divine Inspiration, would strike him out of the blue, but nothing came. With a silent sigh, he glanced sideways at his companion.

Harry, for his part, was looking everywhere but directly at Draco. He was taking in the landscape, the hills, rocks, trees, and the small stream that was bubbling along the far edge of the field. For a moment, Draco felt a flash of irritation that Harry would be casually sightseeing while Draco was wrapped up in an internal no-win battle, but then he noticed that Harry didn't seem casual or relaxed at all. In fact, he seemed to be scanning the area for possible danger. His posture was tense and rigid, his eyes were wide and alert, and Draco saw that he had his hand firmly on his wand. For that, Draco felt rather stupid that Harry was doing something about possible danger, while he was just bumbling along, hardly paying attention to his surroundings.

It's a damn good thing you've got him, said the little voice in the back of his head, sounding just a bit tongue-in-cheek.

Shut up.

"What did you say?" Harry's voice pierced his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You mumbled something."

"Oh," Draco said, looking away. "Just thinking to myself."

"Thinking about what?"

Fuck, Potter, don't start this again. "Thinking that it will be nice to have something different to eat when we get back. My delicate palate has never been so offended or utterly bored."

Draco felt rather than saw Harry shake his head. "You know I don't buy that for an instant."

"Harry, not now."

"You said that three hours ago."

"And I'm saying it again."

"Draco..."

This time, Harry's hand fell softly on his shoulder. Draco shrugged it away.

"Listen, Potter, I can't deal with this right now."

Instantly, Draco felt the atmosphere change. Harry's hand came down much more heavily, and Draco was halted and spun in place to face Harry.

Not pleased at being manhandled, Draco snarled at Harry. "What?"

"Draco, obviously something is really wrong, and you know what it is! If we're both in some sort of danger, I think you need to tell me."

Draco swatted Harry's hand away. "I can't! There's nothing to tell! It won't make a difference! Nothing will make a fucking difference!"

"What are you talking about? Draco, tell me!"

Harry reached out to grab Draco's arm again, but Draco dodged out of the way, suddenly feeling frantic. He'd kept himself numb all morning, trying to avoid the full emotional impact, but the numbness was wearing away. He didn't want to be touched, but he needed contact. He needed to be held and hidden, he needed to hit something and push the world away. He couldn't speak, but he needed to scream and yell and cry. It was infuriating, and everything was spinning out of his control. He had no idea what emotions were showing on his face, but whatever it was must have stunned Harry, who was looking at him with an expression of helplessness.

He couldn't deal with this. The only thing he could think to do was to run, so he did.

"Draco!"

His name barely reached his ears through the rushing wind, the rushing blood, in his headlong rush across the field. He was dimly aware that Harry was following him, but all he could think to do was to run faster. It was what he'd done his whole life: run away. Always running away. When the tables turned, when he got scared or overwhelmed, he ran. And he was running now.

He stepped into a small hole and tripped, and a sharp pain shot up his right leg, but he barely noticed. In the span of a heartbeat, he was on his feet and running again. There was a small stream coming up, and the woods just beyond that. He could hide in the woods. He wanted to hide. The air burned in his lungs, but he was almost there.

And then, something slammed into him from behind and he was knocked painfully to the ground. He struggled to roll over, and found Harry sitting on him, straddling his legs.

"Let me go! Damn it, Potter, let me go!" Draco lashed out, but Harry grabbed his arms and pinned them.

"And let you go where? What the hell are you thinking? And WHAT'S GOING ON?"

With a great heave, Draco pushed Harry off him and scrambled to his feet, but this time he made no move to run. "Why the fuck do you need to know?"

"Because we're in this together!"

Draco's rushing blood became hotter in his veins. "You can't possibly understand what I'm going through right now!"

"Well then why don't you tell me!"

"YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW!"

Harry hesitated for a moment and took a step closer, almost but not quite into Draco's personal space. "Try me."

So fucking calm... he has no clue... he can't understand... why does he have to look at me like that? Like he cares? I don't want him to care!

Draco was breathing hard, barely a foot from Harry's face, and for a moment, all he could see was Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived... Boy Who Fucked Up Everything.

"Draco...?"

And Draco struck.

It was a clumsy, slow swing, and Harry blocked it with his forearm before it connected with his head, but before Harry could recover, Draco lunged. He barrelled into Harry's chest, knocking him backwards. They both hit the ground hard, grappling blindly, and Draco felt his nose hit something hard. The hot sting behind his eyes was followed by the metallic smell of blood and a warm trickle from his nose.

Harry suddenly pulled away, and when Draco got to his feet, Harry was standing in front of him, chest heaving, nursing his upper arm, looking very confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco didn't want to hear it. Not now. Listening would mean he'd have to think, and he couldn't let himself think.

Draco rushed again, this time pushing Harry back several steps until they splashed into the shallow stream at the edge of the field. He swung his fists at Harry, not even sure why he wanted to hit him; just so blindly enraged that he couldn't stop.

"Draco! OOOF! What did I do? Hey, stop!"

"I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO KNOW! I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT YOU!" The irony of the fact that he was still swinging his fists, even as he said that, wasn't lost on him, and angry tears began to well up as he continued to flail wildly. He didn't want to hurt Harry, but he was too far gone to stop.

"ACK! What didn't you want me to know? Draco?"

"NO!"

"Draco, please!"

Draco's last layer of resistance cracked and the entire world around him became a blur. "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! Voldemort is going to kill my father BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"What the hell are you talking about!"

Dimly, he was aware that none of his blows were really connecting - Harry was blocking them - but he didn't care. He was beginning to tire, but he continued to lash out clumsily, screaming.

"NO! It's not your fault! How could I say that? It's MY FAULT! I failed him! I failed everyone! My mother is DEAD, my father is going to DIE, AND THEN HE'S GONNA COME FOR ME!"

"Draco, I promise, I'm not going to let him get you! Please stop! Listen!"

"NO! HE'S GOT YOU TOO! And there's nothing I can do! He's got your BLOOD, YOU STUPID FUCK, but you probably forgot all about that! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN THREE DAYS, AND THERE ISN'T A FUCKING THING EITHER OF US CAN DO!"

Draco struck out with another off balance blow, but instead of blocking it, this time, Harry caught his wrist. "What?" he whispered.

"LET GO OF ME!" Draco tried to hit with his other hand, but Harry caught that one too, and suddenly, Draco was struggling madly against Harry's vice-like grip even as fatigue weighed down on him heavily. "Let go! There's nothing I can do! There's nothing you can do! I wanted to save you, but I can't! I can't... I can't even save myself!"

Harry's hands were steel clamps on his wrists, but his face had gone completely slack. Draco tried to struggle more, but he was out of breath, and his muscles were protesting. He felt light-headed, and he remembered that his nose was bleeding. He gave another pull at Harry's grip, but something in him had deflated. "Let me go..."

"No... Draco, what are you saying?" Harry was looking over his shoulder into the distance, with a dazed and lost look on his face. His cheeks had become so pale they were almost sallow, and his glasses were smudged and tipped sideways on his nose. Even though he was still holding Draco captive, he looked small and helpless, like a scared little boy.

It was Draco's undoing.

Exhaustion and emotion finally overwhelmed him, and he collapsed against Harry's chest, shaking.

"He's been threatening me so that I'd bring you back. And when he used the Cruciatus through the vision... I didn't think he could really reach us here... but he can. He can." The words were coming out of Draco's mouth, but he didn't feel like they were his own words. He was distanced from it somehow, like someone else was controlling his mouth. He listened to himself speak, even as his body shook out of his control.

"First, he said he'd kill my mother, and he did it, and now he said he'll kill my father... because he wants to watch you die, and he wants me to bring you back... but it doesn't matter because you're going to die anyway!" Draco choked on his own words and had to swallow twice before he could speak again, or at the very least, croak.

"He's got your blood, Harry. He doesn't even need you there any more. In three days, the eclipse is going to happen, and unless we do something to counteract it, he's going to take that potion, and you're going to die."

"I'm... I'm going to die?" Harry's voice was soft and uncertain in Draco's ear, and Draco leaned back so that he could look into Harry's face. Pale skin, pinpointed pupils surrounded by strained green irises, and a quivering lower lip.

He wanted to say no.

No, Harry, you're not going to die.

No, I won't let Voldemort have you.

I'm going to find a counter-curse, and you're going to be just fine, and we're going to be back at Hogwarts soon, and Quidditch season is going to start, and there are going to be Hogsmeade weekends, and I'm going to help you pass NEWT level Potions, and everything will be just fine, and no, you're not going to die.

Harry's question echoed over and over in his head. I'm going to die?

He wouldn't lie to Harry, but he couldn't face him either. His body was shaking, and everything was blurry. The world was falling apart around him. Finally Draco's head tipped forward heavily, and he rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder in defeat, dimly aware that he was getting blood from his nose on Harry's shirt, and gave the only answer he could.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know."

*

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