Title: "Shapeshifter"

Author: Shaitanah

Rating: PG

Timeline: post-HBP

Summary: During the Final Battle Malfoy and Potter get trapped in the Ice Chamber. It happens to be a rather useful experience: sometimes we need not a friend, but an enemy to restore our faith in ourselves. Please R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone here, you know that, don't you? ;)

A/N: No slash, or pre-slash, depends on what you think about it. And please, don't be too judgmental: this is the result of one very tiresome and busy day of work.

Dedication: Unbetaed cuz this is the gift to my wonderful beta Lady Domino. Thank you so much for everything: for being such a good friend, for reassuring me when I say my writing skills equal zero, for beta-ing my horrible fics and pointing out all the stupid mistakes I make. I really wish I knew you in person. Someday we surely will meet off-line. You make the world brighter, sweetie. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! ;)

SHAPESHIFTER

Your promises, they look like lies.
Your honesty, like a back that hides a knife.

30 Seconds to Mars. "I'll Attack"

Harry balled his fist and hit the ice cover with all his might. The act brought nothing but pain, bittersweet tingles of it coursing through his arm. He sighed. Damn it, he needed to calm down. He punched the wall again. Harder and harder. He bit his lip and watched a few drops of blood emerge on his hurt knuckles. Blood colored the shimmering blue of ice, splashed upon it as if drops of dark red wine.

"Knock it off!" Malfoy hissed. "You're not getting anywhere with… this!"

Potter ignored him and continued his pointless wall-fighting. It had been 4 hours since their accidental imprisonment in the Ice Chamber created in the heart of the Dark Lord's headquarters. Malfoy's lips had gone deep blue, the color of pallid spring sky. His breath was a hot puff of steam in the chilly air. For hours he watched Potter trying to crush the wall with his fist – the most stupid and annoying thing there was to do in such circumstances. And now, despite his protests, the git was about to go on.

Malfoy rose swiftly and grabbed Potter by the forearm before he hurt himself.

"If you break a bone, I'm not going to babysit you".

"You have nothing else to do, anyway". What was it? A smile? Did Potter actually try to force a smile upon his snow-white lips?

Draco's legs were paralyzed with jolts of pain caused by cold. He tried to walk about the small square chamber but his movements were slow, as if reluctant. He collapsed on the floor and hid his face in his palms.

It started out with a fight when the Order broke into the Riddle Manor. In Draco's opinion, it was the most reckless plan to perform. Dumbledore wouldn't approve, he thought, watching the Aurors invade the house from a safe place. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He joined the Death Eaters and fought alongside with them against the Ministry forces. Various thoughts swept through his head as he raised and lowered his wand, and raised it again, and greenish flames blazed on its tip. He felt so empty, so void of passions and hopes and fears, he didn't even understand what he was fighting for. And then he saw Potter.

"Sod off, Malfoy", the Boy Who Lived said. "I'm not here for you".

"I still haven't forgotten the bathroom incident!" Draco imagined blood on his face, spilling from under his glasses, blocking his vision, blood everywhere – and his feeling woke up as from the deepest sleep. He blocked Potter's way, indicating he was ready to fight.

"I said, let me through!" Potter barked.

Not in a thousand years! "If you want to get to him, you'll have to go through me", Draco replied solemnly, doing his best to hide his anguish.

Multi-colored pencils of light emerged from their wands. It brushed against Draco's skin, a touch of unbearable heat that made him slither in pain. Potter was so going to pay for that.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy". The hated green eyes blazed with sudden atrocity. "You'll just have to wait".

The world swirled around Draco like a coming tide. The brat was gone in no time. Flicking his wand, Malfoy followed him. It was a matter of honour, after all.

Draco tilted his head back until his crown touched the ice. So cold and blue. Someone screamed in his ear, willing him to wake up. The boy opened his eyes. Potter leaned into him, his hot breath warming him up, but Draco couldn't distinguish the words he was saying. Potter touched his cheek gently.

"Don't die here, okay", he murmured. What was it, compassion? Potter gathered himself up and added in a far less relieving intonation. "I just don't want you to die first and miss the pleasure of my corpse as your only company till forever ends".

Draco smirked weakly. This sounded like something he could have said himself. I've been a terrible influence on you, Potter, he thought wryly.

Why did he follow Potter? What did he want to prove? Draco himself had no answer to that question. He attacked him again, provoking the long-awaited outburst of rage and desire to parry. They fought until sweat beaded up on their foreheads, until they choked on every inhale, two small hurricanes storming in frenzy in the middle of a battle that appeared to have nothing to do with them.

Malfoy jumped Potter, tearing the wand out of his hand. They rolled on the floor, swearing and grunting, tearing into each other's robes, leaving bright scratch marks on each other's skin. Draco couldn't recall for sure who was to blame for their imprisonment. They came to their senses only when the deadly breath of ice touched their burning cheeks.

The fight stopped at once. "Now look what you've done!" they snapped at each other simultaneously.

Four hours is a long time, sufficient to quarrel, to insult one another, to whine and burst in panic. At first, they screamed, then they tried to find the way out of the locked chamber, they refused to communicate at all and finally cursed each other again. And now Draco was falling asleep, embracing the inevitable: he would die amidst the brilliant, blinding beauty with his greatest enemy as the only thing that yet remained to connect him with the world of the living.

Persistent blows continued. Draco opened one eye to throw a dismal look at Potter who had apparently already gone totally insane. A nasty comment was about to leave his lips when he noticed that Potter's robe was nowhere to be seen. Blood streamed upon the wall of ice. Air was clouded with thick, visible puffs of Potter's breath. Draco lowered his head and saw the robe wrapped around his shivering body.

"Are you nuts!?" he shrieked. "I would never have done the same for you".

He sprang up (even faster than he imagined he could). Potter stopped him with a firm glance. "Don't you dare. If you take it off, I'll finish you off right on spot".

The madness went on. Draco yawned and wrapped the clothes tighter around him. Well, Potter made his choice. Warming up his limbs, Malfoy paced noiselessly about the room.

"Who are you imagining? The Dark Lord?" he taunted. "Or me?"

"Jadis", Potter replied after a brief moment of doubt. A shy smile crept out on his lips. Draco cast him a questioning glance. "The White Witch. As in The Chronicles of Narnia".

"Huh?"

"I don't suppose you've heard of it", Potter shrugged casually. "It's a Muggle fantasy book".

Malfoy rounded his lips sardonically. "Oh".

Was it a hint? Draco had never been good at taking hints. On a contrary, he was surprisingly good at doing whatever he liked and whenever he liked. And right now he needed to talk, to distract himself of the depressing perspective.

He stood beside Potter and asked, careful not to demonstrate his interest: "So, what's it about?"

"Ah… Well, there's this fairytale land called Narnia", Harry breathed, "and when a wicked witch usurps the power, eternal winter begins. It's like they don't have any seasons but winter. All year round. Only the coming of a rightful king can bring summer back. So when four kids from our world accidentally get to Narnia through a wardrobe–".

"Another heroic rubbish", Malfoy cut off.

Exhausted, Potter sank to the floor. He nodded stiffly at Draco's remark and muttered, "I s'pose so. But it's pretty hopeful. One needs books like this… occasionally".

"Did you imagine yourself while reading it?" Malfoy scoffed. "Here's what you get for playing a hero!"

He threw up his arms. Ice sparkled painfully behind him, and around him, and in front of him. Ice was everywhere. For a moment Draco imagined they'd wound up in the kingdom of said eternal winter.

Potter moaned inaudibly. Draco shook his head. No way he was going to help him. The bastard started this mess. If only he had agreed to fight. Draco wouldn't have had to chase him all over the place. They wouldn't have ended up here. Well, what was the point in whining about what could have been. Enveloped in two sets of robes, Draco felt guilt wash over him. It was something so un-Malfoyish that he nearly started blushing. He crept up to Potter, buttoned up his shirt carefully and hugged him to keep him warm.

And this?.. Was this compassion, too?

"We're gonna get out of this mess", he whispered comfortingly. "After all, I have the brain. And you have… whatever the press believes their Golden Boy has".

Harry chuckled. The sound resembled more of a cough. He retorted hoarsely: "You're impossible, Malfoy!"

Draco chose to ignore this. Time passed, and he stopped counting the minutes. Noone would come. Noone would save them. Potter's body went absolutely numb in his arms. He looked down on his nemesis, wondering how easy it would have been to kill him like this.

Would have been…

"You're a good person, Malfoy", whispered Harry, "no matter how hard you try to hide it".

Draco leaned into him so that his lips almost brushed Harry's. "Shut. Up. Now".

Of course! He should have known this was coming. Speculations on his motives and why he had joined the Death Eaters. He didn't need anyone telling him he was good, or bad, or whatever.

But Potter, stubborn, and stupid, and painstakingly noble as he was, kept blabbering. "I want you to know that I don't blame you for Dumbledore's death. He knew you could not have killed him. He would have given you another chance. So would I. I don't hate you, Draco".

Malfoy whispered clearly against his ear, exhaling the only heat left in him, "Neither do I hate you. I just don't care".

"Oh, you care!" Harry grinned. "You're keeping me warm, don't you?"

Fair point. No-no-no, there had to be another explanation as to why he was holding him. And Draco, the master of brilliant excuses, hastened to find it.

"Wrong! I'm keeping me warm".

Harry shifted in his arms. He tucked his head under Malfoy's chin tenderly and closed his eyes. His skin was that perfect white-bluish that indicated strong hypothermia.

"Do you miss anyone right now?" he asked. "Would you like anyone to be at your deathbed?"

"Enough!" Malfoy blurted out. He jumped up, allowing Potter to roll off his knees, and growled in a low voice: "We gave up too soon! It can't end like this. The heir of Malfoy clan, I'm not passing away here. By rights, I should die on a battle-field or something. And you! The precious Hero of the Wizarding World! They should see you right now! Get up! Our battle is not over".

Soft laughter flowed out of Harry's mouth. He lowered his head onto the floor. Solid ice beckoned him to sleep.

"Such passion! You should have been a speech-writer for the Ministry".

"I'll consider this option". Malfoy dragged him up on his feet and returned him his robe. Clearly the boy needed it more that Draco himself did. "Brace yourself. Or do you need a heroic book to start acting like a hero you ought to be?"

Irritation gripped him. He shook Potter violently, trying to drive his harmful indifference away. Then he reached into his pocket and took his wand out. One wand, one Malfoy and one very selfish, very sluggish Hero of the Wizarding World. 'That should do', Draco told himself.

"Leave me alone", Potter mumbled, tumbling back on the floor. "Go drive someone else nuts".

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do", Draco retorted through clenched teeth. He still had a card up his sleeve and this was the best moment to use it. "Don't you seek revenge?"

Potter's dim green eyes turned to regard the opponent. He seemed to be listening rather attentively. Well, that was enough for Draco. He sat down very close to Potter and whispered in a mesmerizingly quiescent voice: "He's out there, you know. Just outside this chamber. Committing a new atrocious crime every minute. Killing a number of people every hour. And do you know why?"

Potter shook his head numbly. The artistic part of Malfoy was happy about it. Another opportunity to go on with the show. Hell, he might also consider the position of the great Harry Potter's personal therapist in the future.

"That's because he is looking for you", he went on in a mellow voice. His fingers danced upon Potter's shoulder. He touched his chin and turned his head so that their eyes met. "He knows you've entered the manor. But where have you gone? He wants to kill you. And he'll be making all those freakish friends of yours pay for your absence until you finally show up and take the responsibility".

Harry freed himself from Malfoy's arms and got up. He was quivering but cold was not the reason. Malfoy smiled on the inside. Perhaps there was something good in him. At least something not that rotten which might have been taken for goodness. Suddenly Voldemort's side seemed far less attractive.

One wand, two wizards, one thick wall of ice – the equation wasn't exactly equivalent. Draco snorted bitterly. What if the stupid spell wouldn't work? Still, he joined Harry in chanting. Their voices rose and fell, the spell started over, and the wall was soon covered in a web of splinters. Draco held Harry up by the forearm.

"Careful. We don't know what awaits out there".

Harry smiled, still weak. His emerald eyes blazed persistently. "I told you you weren't that bad".

Potter's blood gleamed in ruby sparks against the blue of ice. Malfoy stopped by, his eyes so close to it that it seemed to consume him. One episode like this, just one among the years of rivalry, and enmity, and hate, did not make them friends. They would never be on friendly terms with each other. It was as simple as the laws of nature.

Malfoy stepped out of the room. He would watch and learn, so far. Which side would be winning, which one would be begging for mercy. And then he'd join the victors.

December 24, 2006