Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I own nothing.

Author's Note: This story begins with Everything's Different, Yet Everything's the same. That story isn't even finished yet, so really if you haven't read that, don't read this. I don't think it will make much sense...

Summary: Before Draco went back in time to save Harry Potter from certain death, Harry fought with himself to trust his childhood rival and accept feelings he didn't understand. Sequel to Everything's Different, Yet Everything's the Same.

Dumbledore's funeral had been beautiful, the merpeople singing, the centaurs tribute, and a suitable turn out. I imagine I'll remember it for the rest of my life, assuming I live very much longer. It wasn't just the funeral that will make it memorable, but having to leave Ginny and getting to tell Scrimgeor to stuff it. Now there was just one more goodbye to make, then I could finish destroying the horcruxes like Dumbledore had wanted.

I saw them hurrying toward me now. Ron and Hermione passed Scrimgeour going in the opposite direction, so I turned and walked slowly on, waiting for them to catch up. They finally did in the shade of a beech tree under which they had sat in happier times. Irrationally I decided I would miss this tree.

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered.

"Same as he wanted at Christmas," I shrug, "Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster boy."

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he says loudly to Hermione, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"

"No," she says firmly, grabbing his arm.

"It'll make me feel better!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed and it felt good. Even Hermione grinned a little, though her smile fades as she looks up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back," she says softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"

"Maybe it won't," says Ron. "We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," I tell him.

Ron gawks at me, but Hermione says sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?

They're my best friends, so I tell them the truth.

"I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to. But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good."

"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"

"I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," I mutter. The idea's been in my head ever since the night of Dumbledore's death, but I'm not even sure of that. The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's, I repeat the mantra in my mind. Whatever else I do, the horcruxes are what's really important.

"And then what?" Ron asks as if reading my mind.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" I say, looking at Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. "That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me about them. If Dumbledore was right – and I'm sure he was – there are still four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way," I add, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."

There's a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed now, the stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the water.

"We'll be there Harry," Ron says out of the blue and I'm not quite sure I've heard him right.

"What?"

"At your aunt and uncle's house," says Ron. "And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going."

"No-" I say quickly; I hadn't counted on this, I had only wanted them to understand that I was undertaking this most dangerous journey alone. If I lose them, too…

"You said to us once before," Hermione says quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

"We're with you whatever happens," says Ron. "But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?" I ask, finding their show of support has given me a strength I didn't know I needed.

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

Startled, I look at him; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seems incredible and yet…wonderful.

"Yeah," I finally manage, "we shouldn't miss that."

My hand closes automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path I can see stretching ahead of myself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort I know must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, my heart lifts at the thought that there's still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione.

Then he walks up out of nowhere and ruins it.

"What do you want, Malfoy," I demand and he flinches, glancing across the lake at Dumbledore's tomb as if it gives him courage. Maybe it does. Ever since last summer he's been different. Of course, I know it's the werewolf in him now, though I don't doubt his parents deaths last summer have had an effect as well. Then there's his House turning on him. He never should have trusted his friends with the knowledge that he was a werewolf now. They had turned on him faster than you could say Quidditch.

Alright, so maybe I feel bad for the guy, but I don't want him here. I want to spend my time with Ron and Hermione before I have to fight a war.

"I heard you talking," he starts and I feel something cold twist in my stomach. What did he hear? About the Horcruxes, or about leaving? Both? Malfoy takes a deep breath and finally meets our gaze, one after the other.

"I want to come with you, I want to help. Please," I never thought I'd hear him say that word before, "I know I can help. I know how to brew the wolfsbane potion on my own so I won't be a danger, but I know a lot of other advanced potions that they didn't teach here. And I can fight. Let me help you." I think it takes something from him, but he says that word again. "Please."

"Hell no," Ron blurts and I see Malfoy flinch again. His grey gaze turns to me and I can see he's practically begging me to say yes. But I don't want him; I don't trust him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," I say and maybe it's a little crueler than it needed to be. He deflates; it's the only way to put it. Like he really needed to come with us and now he has nothing to hold on to.

Except, we've all forgotten about Hermione.

"Why?" Malfoy turns to her, shocked, but doesn't answer and she has to repeat her question. "Why do you want to come with us?"

"Revenge," he answers this time and I believe him. There's something in his eyes that speaks of violence; maybe the wolf, maybe I just never noticed it before. "You-Know-Who killed my parents he…he made me what I am. I want him dead and the only way to make sure of that is to help Harry."

Even after her question, I'm surprised when Hermione turns to me and says, "It would be stupid not to make use of him."

"Hermione," Ron protests, "It's Malfoy. Remember? Ferret? The git that called you mudblood?"

"I never said we had to trust him, Ron," she says and I don't think I've ever heard Hermione be so cold. But I trust her, so if she says Malfoy's in, he's in.

"I'll owl you where to meet us," I tell him and I'm sure I've never seen him smile like that. He almost looks…nice.

"I won't let you down," he promises and then he's leaving. Maybe he knows better than to press his luck.

"Hermione, you're crazy," Ron hisses and I know we're thinking the same thing. How good are Malfoy's ears now? I'm certain he wasn't anywhere near us to hear any part of our conversation, and yet he had.

"Let it go, Ron," I urge.

After all, it's still such a nice day out.