Of Wicked Spells and Revelations

by vampirealchemist13

Harry confronts Draco about more than just hexing Katie Bell in the bathroom. Set to HBP movie-verse and DH book-verse. SLASH warning. HPDM - ON HIATUS

1. Of Wicked Spells & Revelations

A/N: I went to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at the midnight showing, and during the bathroom scene between Draco and Harry, the beginning of this came to me. After that, I just couldn't find a good place to end it, so it grew and grew and now it's going to be a two chapter piece...one from the sixth book/movie and one that takes events from the seventh book and near the end. I'll have to reread the seventh book before I can write it, though.

It's not necessarily a one-shot, but it will only be two chapters long, maybe three if I decide an epilogue is necessary. It's all in third person, but it kind of takes place from different characters' points of view; if you have any questions, ask in your review.

Enjoy!

---

When he saw her standing, miraculously alive, in the Great Hall, he suddenly felt violently ill. Katie Bell had finally returned from St. Mungo's, a little traumatized and very behind on her schoolwork thanks to him, but still alive and kicking. And talking to Potter.

Her eyes drifted over to him and met his, confusion evident. She knew there was some unknown reason for having a bad feeling about him, and he could tell she didn't know exactly why she should suspect him, but it was clear she didn't remember who had given her the cursed necklace.

Just as he began to relax, though, Potter turned and locked eyes with him. Those violent emerald eyes, glinting with determination, had set on him, and as Potter did a double take, confirming Katie had indeed been staring at him, Draco turned and began his brisk walk to the bathroom on the second floor.

He should have guessed that Potter, with his stupid sense of Gryffindor nobility, would follow him.

Myrtle was out and about apparently, because she didn't fly out of her toilet stall when he turned the water on, filling the sink with ice cold water. The cold water made him feel slightly less ill, but he still felt sick.

Katie wasn't supposed to open the necklace's package; Dumbledore was. But now, thinking to the screams he had heard from halfway back to the castle, he realized he was glad the Headmaster had never received the necklace or the mead. The attempts had been half-hearted and pathetic because he never truly wanted them to succeed.

The Dark Lord's request, his demand to kill Dumbledore, had been considered an honor at first. But when Draco realized all the Headmaster's speeches reminded Draco of himself, he found himself wishing he couldn't find similarities. He didn't want to be like Voldemort; he didn't want to be marked anymore.

But, of course, now that he was branded, Voldemort could find him anywhere and anytime, provided he was outside Hogwarts' grounds, and soon that would not matter either. If Draco refused the Dark Lord, he and his mother would be killed, and that was all it took to solidify his resolve; he had to follow through…to the best of his ability.

"Malfoy." The mirror suddenly reflected not one boy, but two. "I know what you did. You tried to curse Dumbledore; you hexed Katie." Of course the Gryffindor Golden Boy had it all figured out.

He muttered a few quick swears before Potter had his wand drawn.

"Stupefy!"

"Protego." Draco's shield charm gave him enough time to duck behind the stalls as the stunner hit the sinks, blasting a torrent of water over the floor.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!" The two stunners met in the middle to create a shower of sparks and water as the shock exploded a few toilets. Hidden behind a row of stalls, Draco could not locate Potter.

Suddenly, ripples from the opposite direction and a dark reflection in the water alerted him to the other boy's location. He moved so his feet were not visible by Potter and ducked the way he knew the other boy would be doing any moment.

He positioned his wand, and aimed another stunner, blown a few inches back by the shock wave of both stunners.

"Sectumsempra!" A wand pointed at him from around the corner of the stalls and a purple jet of light blew him back at least ten feet. His side met the sink and he righted himself, and he staggered back, unable to find the strength to complete a proper breath. His white shirt was stained red and he could feel the sting of the water hitting freshly opened cuts that continued to expand across his chest.

"Shit, Draco!" The voice, Potter's he numbly registered, sounded genuinely worried, but he was too focused on taking a full breath.

"Draco, stay with me! Please, stay awake!" He sounded anxious, like he really didn't want Draco to go. "The book didn't say the spell would do this! I'm so sorry; I never wanted this to happen; especially to you!" Liar; the two of them had been trying to off each other for six years. He could hardly say that was the honest truth.

"Draco, you can't fall asleep. You need to stay awake. Otherwise I can't tell you why I've been following you all year." Duh, because you don't trust me? Draco could hardly believe the Gryffindor's lack of functioning brain cells. "I've been following you because I knew you were trying to kill Dumbledore, though I'm sure you knew that. I know Voldemort designated you to be the one to kill the Headmaster.

"I've been following you so I can figure out how to help you. I don't want you to turn dark, Draco. And not for obvious reasons. I don't want you to come to the light because I want you on my side, or because I'm the Golden Boy trying to be a savior."

"I'm trying to save you because the Boy-Who-Lived isn't supposed to be in love with a Death Eater, and for once, I'm being selfish. For once, I'm trying to do something because I want it, not because someone else is telling me to." Draco's eyes, still half-lidded, widened in shock. His breaths, coming in more shallow pants, became faster and, though he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, he could still speak.

"Potter…fuck…y-you. S-stop…toy…toying…with…me." A shudder ran through his body, and it took everything in him not to vomit; the loss of blood was making it hard to think, breathe, speak; quite frankly, it was making it difficult to do anything.

"I promise you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, that is the last thing I want to do." And with his hand holding the bleeding boys head, Potter leaned over to give him a long, slow kiss. He realized, with a sick, twisted irony, that had he been in his right mind, he would have hexed Potter six ways to Sunday had he tried this, but now his only wish was to be fully awake so he could actually enjoy what was happening.

He fell asleep to Potter calling for Severus.

---

In the halls, a figure in black swept past.

"Professor Snape, please! You have to help!" The moment Snape recognized his godson's bleeding form, he shoved Harry out of the way and began muttering. Harry didn't realize he had been holding his breath until the angry red of blood on Draco's white shirt began to disappear.

"Draco? Draco, please—."

"What were you doing to my godson, Potter? Where did you learn that spell?" Harry ran to his book bag, shoved underneath one of the miraculously dry stalls, and pulled the Half-Blood Prince's book out.

"Take it, please. I can't stand knowing that I hurt him using one of those awful spells." Tears streaked his eyes and he pushed back Draco's wet, blonde hair, praying for his eyes to open. Even though his breathing had evened out and the tortured look of pain no longer encompassed his features, Harry would not be at rest until those mysterious eyes opened and were pinned on him in a glare once more.

"You didn't know what that spell would do, Potter?" The sneer was still present, but there was no real malice in the question; just curiosity. Harry was too focused on Draco to realize.

"No! I would never do something like that to anyone, especially Draco!" One dark eyebrow rose.

"And why, pray tell, are you calling my godson by his given name?" Tears sprang anew from his eyes.

"Because I love him, Snape." And, with that, he grabbed his bag and ran to the first place he could think of, hanging over the edge and crying, begging for something, anything, to take him away. A freak storm, a random Death Eater, a rusty bolt so the railing fell; anything to take him from this misery.

Because Draco Malfoy the Death Eater wasn't allowed to love Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived, regardless of whether or not he wanted to. Harry Potter could do anything as long as it didn't interfere with the Prophecy, but society and Voldemort would never leave them alone, and Draco didn't deserve such a dysfunctional relationship.

Even if he did want one.

Sighing, Harry sat, swinging his legs out over the edge and taking in the scenery and his height. He loved being so close to the sky. Flying would be ideal, but Dumbledore's security measures made that quite impossible.

The complete disappearance of oxygen in higher up levels gave Harry a natural high that made him giddy. He could act like a complete idiot and no one was up here to say anything, but, more than that, he felt completely normal. He never felt completely comfortable on the ground the way he did in the air.

The sun set over the mountains, and he contemplated the colors that blended together so naturally to make something so beautiful.

"Merlin, I'm turning into such a girl." When the sun finally disappeared completely, he turned so he was lying flat on the cold stone, observing the different star formations. He found the first star he always located in the night sky, Sirius, and smiled, remembering his godfather. Draco was lucky to still have his.

Draco.

A tear escaped his eye and his mind escaped to drift through tormented territory once more, wondering if the Slytherin was okay. Had Snape fully healed him? Was he resting in the infirmary? His friends would surely come after him once they heard what had happened; no one got away with hurting their precious Malfoy.

For a moment, he wished he had allowed the sorting hat to place him in the snake house so he would have no worries about showing affection for the blonde. But, of course, he was Harry Potter; he could have nothing he wanted or it would distract him from his one true destiny of defeating the Dark Lord.

It struck Harry as ironic that if he had never been brought back into the world of Wizardry, Voldemort would have never returned; he would not have been able to participate in the Triwizard Tournament that brought about Voldemort's return.

But he never would have met Sirius either. Although Sirius would not have died; nor would Cedric.

Bloody hell, his life was full of guilt.

"It's a wonderful place to think, isn't it, Potter?" He sat up so fast his head made solid contact with the bottom level of the railing. Cursing, he sat up to confirm his suspicions; Draco stood at the top of the stairs, one eyebrow raised in blatant mockery.

"Shove it, Malfoy."

"Such language. You should be kinder to someone you almost accidentally murdered in a girls' bathroom." Suddenly nauseated with himself, he set to looking back out at the stars, determined not to speak for the rest of the night, lest another fight break out.

---

Snape had set to interrogating him the moment he woke up. He only answered what he hoped would not incriminate Potter. That they had had a simple duel, a few things were broken, and Potter's throwing of the spell had seemed accidental; he did not seem to know what it did.

He kept out any mention of Potter's revelation and the kiss.

Snape held him back for several more minutes, which turned into hours. After performing repairing spells on all the pipes, toilets, sinks, and stalls, Snape had locked the bathroom door and glared at him for several minutes before demanding answers to any and all questions.

Draco, realizing the only way he would get out would be to tell the man everything, relented. None of it mattered anyways. He wasn't going to go through with any of it.

He told him about the Vanishing Cabinets. About the plan to smuggle in Death Eaters. About his failed attempts.

And he told him that he would have to fulfill the Unbreakable Vow, because he no longer wanted any part in any of it.

At this, Severus seemed stunned, and Draco took the opportunity to cast a blasting spell on the door, escaping for his favorite place in the castle, the Astronomy Tower, only to discover it was already occupied.

"It's a wonderful place to think, isn't it, Potter?" The object of his thoughts had been on his back, contemplating the stars far above them. His throat went dry as his eyes roamed the other boy's figure before it jumped, an audible crack resounding when the railing and his forehead made contact. Stifling a laugh, he simply raised an eyebrow and met the green eyes.

"Shove it, Malfoy." Such a temper; Draco loved how easy it was to set him off.

"Such language. You should be kinder to someone you almost accidentally murdered in a girls' bathroom." The open, pissed-off expression on Harry's face sobered and he lay back down. He had brilliantly managed to accomplish what he thought was impossible; he had shut the Boy-Who-Lived up. However, it was hardly what he wanted at this exact moment.

"Really, Potter, you've no need to be speechless. I'm more than willing to hear your opinions on the subject." Nothing. He would need to get the other boy talking if they were going to discuss the Gryffindor's confession and bold moves.

Sighing, he relaxed onto the floor next to the other teen, stargazing along with him.

"Make you realize just how small you are, don't they?" Draco enjoyed the way the millions of lights in the sky glittered back. His mother had always said each star represented someone who had died and that whenever a star went supernova, it was that soul being born again, being given a brand new start.

He wondered what it was like to be star in the sky, watching everyone else experience happiness, sorrow, and love, and being unable to do anything until it was once again time to live.

"More like how insignificant," the black-haired boy finally responded. He smiled, but said nothing, willing him to continue. He did not disappoint. "No matter what you or I do, the world is going to continue. Sure, we as people may be more sad or happier, depending on which way the war goes, but the stars are going to continue to shine, the sun is going to rise and set every day, and there will still be 365 days in the year. Nothing changes."

"I don't believe that," Draco said smirking. "And neither do you. You can try and rationalize wanting this all to be over, wanting someone else to take over, but in the end, you don't need to. It's completely understandable that you just want to be normal, Potter. Other people go through life wanting more; you don't want anything. If anything, you want less. And that's what makes you special."

"I swear, Malfoy, if you start toting on about my amazing capacity to love, I'll throw you off this goddamned tower."

"It's charmed with a safety spell; I'd land softly anyways. And you do have an amazing capacity to love, Potter. Take, for instance, loving me." He sat up and looked down into Potter's eyes. "I'd say that would take a pretty significant capacity, wouldn't you?"

"No. Despite your Slytherin tendencies, you're brave, you stand up for what you believe, and you've got a sense of humor that rivals any I've seen. Just because you're on the other side of the war doesn't mean you're any less deserving of love than anyone else; you don't relish senseless killing, and that's why. Bellatrix Lestrange; not deserving of love." Potter's tone held such malice, Draco was glad that, for once, it was not directed at him.

"You're also very handsome, which helps. What's not to love?"

"Exactly that, Potter. I'm on the other side of this war. You shouldn't love me." Potter rolled his eyes and glared at the stars.

"When have I ever done what I was supposed to?" Draco snorted, taking one hand and tilting Potter's head to face his.

"True. And it seems, Potter, that you're rubbing off on me." He leaned down to give the Gryffindor a light kiss.

"Harry." Draco knew what he meant, but he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge it; they were quite to the level of first names yet just because of a kiss or two. Instead of answering, he leaned back down to press their lips together firmly.

Potter rose from his position on the floor to wrap his arms around Draco's neck.

This was wrong. Not more than a few hours ago, Draco had been resigned to killing Albus Dumbledore, Potter's idol. Now, he was sitting here, close to midnight, snogging the boy in the Astronomy Tower.

It was selfish of him, toying with Potter. The boy had outright said he loved him, given him reasons, pure evidence of said love, and Draco was ignoring his feelings. The only recognition he gave to Potter's feelings was to pretend to reciprocate them by kissing him.

But kissing meant nothing. Draco just needed to know something somewhere was still good, still pure, and even if that meant tainting it, Draco was determined to have it. He was determined to have Potter. Not in the sense that Potter wanted, the sense where each gave freely and loved without restrictions.

He wanted Potter to be his, to have that sense of innocence, and even if he couldn't have it himself, he would get as close as he could

He felt ill again, depraved in a way, like what he was doing was corrupt; and it was. Draco was, essentially, corrupting the Boy-Who-Lived, because when Potter figured out what he was doing, it would break him, and that innocence, or what was left after so many deaths in his life, would be gone, shattered.

But he didn't care, because even if he didn't love Potter, Potter loved him, and this, being with Draco, made the boy feel loved. It gave him what he wanted and it gave Draco the power over something that he so desperately wanted, so why couldn't both of them enjoy it while it lasted?

Pulling away, he looked at Potter.

"It's getting late; we need to go back to our dormitories." Potter nodded, well aware that the two of them could not afford to be caught.

Draco could not believe the day he had had. After everything that had gone wrong, something was starting to drift towards the right, no matter how depraved and immoral his sense of right was.

And then Potter said all he needed to remind Draco of just how wrong he was.

"I love you, Draco." Rather than answer directly, Draco turned left to go to the Slytherin dorms where Potter would turn right to return to Gryffindor. Realizing the boy would not move until he received some sort of answer, he sighed.

"Goodnight, Potter."

---

Goodnight? That was it? And he still called him Potter, not Harry as he had suggested, or begged it had seemed like.

Harry shook his head. He should have known the Slytherin would just consider this a chance to play with his emotions, to feel a sense of power over the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't really care about Harry, and how could he? After all, he had said it himself that Harry had very nearly killed him in the bathroom. Who could love someone that almost killed them, accident or not?

Feeling more depressed than he had when he entered the Astronomy Tower, Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower beneath the safety of his Invisibility Cloak. Along the way, he began to realize all the stupid mistakes he had made when talking to Draco.

He should have realized straight off the bat something was up when Draco actually came to talk to him after nearly being murdered in the girls' bathroom. Especially when he wasn't trying to kill Harry back.

Then, he almost seemed saddened when Harry decided not to talk and attempted to get something, anything, out of him. Regardless of the fact that Harry had not wanted to say anything, something about the way Draco had talked about the stars reflected the same longing Harry had, and, for some reason, he had allowed himself to open himself up to the very person he would love to use what he said against him. He hadn't really given away any weaknesses; only simple needs and wants. Draco, though, had quelled his insecurities and helped, making Harry believe, if only for a brief moment, that Draco actually cared for him. Maybe not in the way that Harry cared for him, but perhaps, one day…

And the kiss had been far better now that Draco could actually participate, but now, after his hormones had calmed down a bit, he realized something had changed with that second kiss after he asked the blonde to call him by his given name.

The kiss had become more intense, but stiff, as though Draco was hiding something from him. Had Harry ruined everything by asking Draco to call him by his first name? Hardly; that response would have come about eventually. The only difference was that Harry knew about it now rather than later.

And when someone says goodnight the way Draco had, it becomes exceedingly clear that they don't want to reciprocate any feelings of love. Draco was distancing himself, and Harry wanted to know why, but keeping himself up about it all night would help nothing, so he would sleep soundly and deal with Draco in the morning.

Or he thought he would until a school owl flew into him, dropping a piece of parchment on the ground.

Harry—

Meet me in my office immediately.

—Albus

Even Dumbledore called him by his given name, although that was more of a grandfatherly relationship than the friendship he wanted with Draco.

Walking into the office, Harry took another glance down at the note; Dumbledore had signed the note Albus. Not Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but Albus; like a friend.

Grinning, Harry recognized at least one victory that night; too bad it wasn't the one he had been aiming for.

"Harry, you remember I told you a few days back about a Horcrux I was attempting to locate?" Harry nodded. "I have found it, but I am unable to acquire it without assistance. I am asking for your assistance on a condition; no matter what I tell you, you will obey."

"Understood, Professor."

"Albus."

"Understood, Albus."

"If I tell you to hide or run and save yourself, you do so without question."

"I understand, sir." One aged eyebrow rose. How many raised eyebrows was he going to have to deal with? "Albus."

"Very good, Harry. Take hold of my hand."

"I thought you couldn't apparate in Hogwarts." The blue eyes twinkled as they had not done in awhile.

"An advantage of being me, dear boy. Hold tight now." A loud crack rang through Hogwarts, and as Harry stared out at the dark, whipping ocean and hidden cave, he wondered just what he had gotten himself into.

Thank Merlin he was with Dumbledore.

---

"Severus, what is the meaning of this?" Draco found himself locked in his godfather's quarters. Walking back from the Tower, he had been preparing to say the password when he was stunned from behind and levitated to the room. After unceremoniously being dropped to land on his backside, he mumbled about inconsiderate Potion Masters before asking what his problem was.

"The Dark Lord, or rather, a messenger acting for him, as insisted your plan, whatever it may be, happens tonight. It seems he has a bad feeling about something that is going to happen tonight involving Dumbledore and would prefer his premonition to not come to fruition." Draco forced a scowl onto his face, but he was concerned; his plan had involved endangering all of Hogwarts, endangering Potter.

Damn his thoughts, always leading back to the Gryffindor.

"Severus, I cannot follow through."

"Maybe not before, but you've told me your plan now and I can help. I shall contact Minerva and ensure that all students are locked in their dormitories; no one shall be allowed in or out. You will pick only three Death Eaters, the three most loyal to Voldemort, to join you in Hogwarts, claiming you only wish the most loyal to join. Two of these will be Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback."

"And the third?"

"Is already here," Severus replied, indicating himself. "This part is extremely important, Draco. Dumbledore, when you confront him, is going to insist that you are too cowardly, and he will try and help you come to the light side. Disarm him, but that is all. Wait for me; I need to finish the job."

"What! I knew it; you only wanted my glory!" Severus shook his head.

"I hardly want to follow through on this, Draco. I have sworn—."

"The Unbreakable Vow, yes, I know."

"No, Draco, I have sworn two Unbreakable Vows; one to your mother and one to the Headmaster to kill him so that you cannot."

"Why?"

"He has known from the beginning of the year, Draco, of your plan. He has done his best to dissuade Potter from it and convince you to change without alerting you to his attempts; it seems Potter turned out to be useful for once. He does not want you to be found guilty for his death, not when he can accomplish his goals without either of us ending up in Azkaban." Draco shook his head.

This was insanity; how could Dumbledore work out such an elaborate scheme and not have any repercussions behind it? It was madness, and Draco wanted no part, but he was still Slytherin enough to recognize the basis of the plan; he would stay in the inner circle, keep both himself and his mother alive, and still be able to come to the Light side, should he choose to do so.

But Potter would not know the truth. Draco's betrayal would shatter him, and not in the way Draco had thought would eventually happen.

"Potter will break," Draco murmured.

"Potter will survive," Severus claimed, waving him off. "If anything, Dumbledore's death will inspire him to do what he must to finish this once and for all."

"I'm not talking about Dumbledore, Severus! I'm talking about me; if I switch sides again, even if it is trickery, Potter will believe it. He would break from the betrayal."

"And why would your position in this war make any difference?" Draco looked down at his well-polished shoes.

"Because he loves me, Severus. You know this; I heard you two talking."

"I had been hoping you did not; it makes your decision in this harder to accept." The man was frowning, rubbing his temples firmly, and looking as though all he wanted to do was disappear. "You must realize, Draco, that you have no choice in the matter. It is this or death, for both you and your mother."

"But why does Potter have to believe what the Dark Lord believes? Why can't we tell him the truth?"

"Because his Occlumency skills are atrocious."

"You told me Dumbledore re-taught him and his skills are satisfactory," the blonde smirked, congratulating himself for catching the man in a lie. "You also said the Dark Lord has stopped entering Potter's mind because it was causing him mental anguish; you were brewing headache potions faster than the ingredients were growing."

Slowly, Severus' defenses were crashing; a few more minutes of good arguments and he would concede to letting Draco write a letter, explaining everything.

"I will write the letter." Not quite what he was going for, but it was a start. "If you write it, you may do something to crush the boy's feelings, whether it be leaving out some trite emotional thing or a misplaced word. Coming from someone he loves, the letter will seem like a goodbye. Coming from me, the letter will be just that. You prepare your note for Mr. Borgin; let the Death Eaters waiting know anyone who is not Bellatrix or Fenrir will be cursed upon arrival and sent back." Draco nodded; it wasn't what he wanted, but it was as close as he would get.

"Severus, I'm going to send the letter through the cabinet." The man nodded. "Severus," Draco said cautiously, wanting an answer before he left, "why did you say McGonagall would take care of students; why not Dumbledore himself?"

"Because he will be gone until late tonight. Which is why we will not be allowing in the Death Eaters until I register his presence in the Astronomy Tower; you will be waiting there for them."

"Them?" Severus allowed his cold eyes to meet Draco's, and he instantly knew, although Severus responded regardless.

"Potter is with him."

---

"Albus, I really hate apparating," Harry muttered, straining to lead the Headmaster to a bench; he ignored his surroundings, afraid of throwing a royal fit when he remembered his encounter with Draco…Malfoy. He couldn't call him by his given name if Malfoy did not reciprocate.

"Harry, you need to find Severus. Speak to no one else, but bring me Severus." Harry nodded, heading for the spiral staircase, but he stopped when light footsteps were heard on the other. "Hide below, and do nothing unless I directly say so, understood?"

He complied and stood below, glancing up to see the intruder had been Malfoy; the Slytherin had lied to him. He was here to finish off the Professor, and Albus had no more ability complete a defense spell than a muggle.

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy did nothing after the disarming spell, least of all Accio the wand that had flown from Albus' hand.

"You are not one of them, Draco." Harry suppressed a shudder at the name, and suppressed the urge to vomit at what happened next.

"But I am, old man! If I don't do this, if I don't kill you, they'll kill me!" Malfoy had shoved the left sleeve of his black suit jacket up; Harry ignored how handsome and sharp he looked in those black suits.

"You do not have to do anything you don't want to, Draco. It is a matter of choice; and you are not a killer." Harry's heart shattered when the tears began streaming down the boy's face. He lifted his wand, prepared to stun Malfoy, but stopped at the look on Albus' face, who knew what was racing through Harry's head.

He turned to look back at Malfoy, but stopped when he saw a figure clad in black with a finger raised to its lips; Snape. Harry nodded, realizing Snape was here to help Albus and waited for the entire thing to get sorted out.

"Congratulations, Draco! He's got him, he's got Dumbledore!" A surge of fury raced through every vein in Harry at the screeching of Bellatrix Lestrange's shrill voice, urging Malfoy to finish his job.

"No." Snape's calm, collected voice echoed and all the noise ceased. This is it; Snape is going to get Bellatrix for me.

"Severus, please."

"Avada Kedavra." The brief exchange took only a few seconds, but to Harry, it stretched an eternity. Albus had pleaded with the man, and he…he…how could he?

The fury he had felt at seeing Bellatrix paled to what he felt now; Malfoy and Snape betrayed Albus, betrayed Hogwarts, and betrayed him. He had trusted them as far as he could, and they turned around…

Pure, undiluted anger pulsed through him, and he followed the four black figures, ignoring everything and anything in his way, including fallen teachers and some asking why he, a student, was not secured in the dorms. Nothing mattered except the fact that Snape was escaping, and Harry would let neither him nor Malfoy get farther than the forest.

"Snape! Come back and fight you coward! Expelliarmus!" His spell disarming spell hit Malfoy instead, and though he felt a twinge of regret, he shoved it down with malice, continuing towards the Death Eaters full speed. A jet of red light halted his progress and sent him flying into the trunk of an oak tree. The corner of his eye was tinged with red from the thin stream crawling down his forehead, but he could still see Fenrir sending a jet of flames at Hagrid's hut, Malfoy scuttling for his wand, and Bellatrix cackling, wand drawn and aimed where he had been moments previous.

"No! He is for the Dark Lord! Take Draco and run, Bella!" The woman scowled and forced Malfoy ahead of her, Fenrir following behind.

"Now, Potter…"

"Sectum—Stupefy!" Harry could tell Snape did not miss the near escape of that cursed spell and the change to a simple stunner. Honestly, Harry could not bring himself to see the effects of that spell again, no matter what Snape had done. It would only remind him of what he had done to Malfoy, but hadn't Malfoy betrayed him?

Even as Snape deflected the spell, even as he deflected the return curse Snape shot at him, he thought back to the blonde. Malfoy had never said he would not follow through, had never said he would switch sides; he had never claimed to love Harry. Malfoy owed Harry nothing other than an explanation as to why he kissed him, and now, Harry didn't even want that; he just wanted revenge, but he couldn't bring himself to follow through.

If he couldn't fire off a Sectumsempra, how was he to muster up the desire to cast a Cruciatus or a Killing Curse?

The two were still firing stunners and shield charms, first year attempts at dueling, and Harry began to realize Snape wasn't trying to kill or even incapacitate him; if he was completely honest, Harry wasn't even sending full strength stunners, and neither was Snape. It was as though it was merely show for anyone watching.

Harry suddenly caught Snape sending him a wink, followed by two stunners, in such rapid succession, that Harry did not have time to reactivate his shield charm after the first one dissolved from the impact of the first.

Snape walked forward and kicked his wand a few feet before leaning down and placing a thick envelope sealed with the Snape crest in Harry's open hand.

"Maybe you're not as much like your father as I thought, Potter. We are sorry."

"Expelliarmus." Harry somehow managed to wandlessly disarm the former Professor, amazing both of them. He felt weakened, though, and his eyes closed, though he was still conscious.

When he opened his eyes again a few moments later, Snape had grabbed his wand and had followed the other Death Eaters path through the forest until he reached the point the others had apparated from.

The ear-splitting crack of Snape apparating was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.

---

"Sectum—Stupefy!" Severus had not been oblivious; he noticed Potter's obvious change in spells. It seemed he was not as willing to use such dangerous spells on an enemy as his father, even though this time, Severus was technically a real enemy and not a childish school rival.

The two exchanged stunners and shield charms, a childish imitation of a duel that first years could have done better, which led Severus to believe Potter did not think the man was truly his enemy; neither were firing off any spells to the best of their ability. One of them would have been incapacitated for sure at this point if they had.

Bellatrix and Fenrir would be suspicious why he was taking so long with Potter if they kept up much longer, and if Draco believed one of them had been injured, he would throw caution to the wind and come to ensure both their safety, putting both in a dangerous position.

Hoping Potter caught his signal, he winked and sent two stunners, both low energy, at the boy in rapid succession to make sure he didn't get the chance to shield both. Draco would murder him for throwing the Gryffindor from his feet; deny it all he liked, his godson loved Potter as much as the other did.

Calculating the amount of time he had left in his head quickly, Severus kicked Potter's wand far enough that he couldn't grab it, but close enough so he could find it easily.

Making a split-second decision, Severus knelt down and placed the thick letter in Potter's hand.

"Maybe you're not as much like your father as I thought, Potter." It was true; his lack of resolve to use the curse and his lack of desire to actually see Severus or Draco hurt or severely humiliated was a complete one-eighty from his father who had done everything he could to embarrass Severus. The only reason the elder Potter had withdrawn most of his attacks had been Evans and her disapproving looks.

"We are sorry," he said quietly, speaking for Draco in addition to himself.

"Expelliarmus!" Potter's spell hit him, but it seemed to be such a last ditch, harmless effort, that Severus did not reciprocate, choosing instead to simply retrieve his wand when the boy closed his eyes, drained from the effort of that one spell. His robes billowed behind him as he swept them along, hurrying to the disapparation point just in the middle of the forest that Albus had kept should anything happen.

Something had happened alright.

"Severus, did you…?"

"Potter is for the Dark Lord," Severus said, reciting his carefully schooled reply should Bellatrix be lurking. "Why did you not apparate with Bella, Draco?"

"I…wanted to make sure…Potter didn't get in any good hits." Severus knew what was really meant. "Besides, that woman is vile; mother always said so. Just because we're on her side of the war doesn't mean I have to like her; the same way I don't like Fenrir and his habit of changing my classmates."

"Agreed. Fenrir is only barely kept from attacking the Slytherins, and most of them are on the Dark Lord's side. But, as you said, they are on…our side. We must go, Draco, before Potter regains use of his limbs and comes." Draco nodded solemnly, grasping Severus' elbow.

"I'm ready." They disappeared with a loud crack. The short time it took was enough for both Severus and Draco to school their features appropriately.

Upon arrival, the two of them dropped to their knees, though Draco wobbled a bit from the apparation. The Dark Lord gave him a knowing grin, causing Draco to nearly vomit, but he kept his head bowed.

"Congratulations, my loyal followers. You two have done the impossible; together, you have defeated my once strong nemesis. My followers, Albus Dumbledore is dead!" A unanimous cheer rose from the dark and dingy room; the basement of Riddle Manor.

"Tonight, we celebrate in honor of Draco Malfoy, who smuggled Bella and Fenrir into the castle and disarmed Dumbledore, and Severus Snape, who finished the job!" More applause, most of it for two people who resented every millisecond of it, rose from the black-clad group.

"Celebrate indeed," Severus murmured to Draco as they passed one another. "My Lord, may I request Draco and I be given a few brief moments to change and clean up from the attack; the Forest is filled with things I care not to mention or remember." Voldemort laughed.

"Of course. We shall expect you down shortly." Severus indicated for Draco to follow and the two dealt with shaking multiple hands as they passed, disgusted with every new person who stuck their hand out, but more with themselves; if they had only had the willpower to resist at first, none of this would have happened.

Severus' mentor and father figure would still be alive, and even if he was not, Severus would have at least been able to attend the funeral.

Draco would not have to pretend to despise the only person who had ever truly loved him, and that person would not hate him.

But it was too late; they could only continue on this path until the time came to change.

---

Harry woke a few minutes later, realizing Albus' form was still lying on the bottom of the Astronomy Tower; he had to be there before everyone realized what was going on, or they'd never allow him to get anywhere close.

Mustering as much strength as he could, he found the adrenaline to push himself to reach the base of the Tower as Professor McGonagall emerged from the side door.

"Potter, what are you—Albus!" Harry still reached him a fair few seconds before McGonagall, and he passed his hand over the Headmaster's face, closing the dulling, emotionless eyes.

"It was Snape," he muttered darkly. "Malfoy let the Death Eaters in through the Vanishing Cabinet and Snape finished the job."

"Mister Potter, now is not the time to…"

"I was there, Professor! I was underneath the platform in the Tower; I saw Malfoy, I heard Snape!" If only they had listened to him before; but Albus had said he knew what was happening. Cursing the Headmaster's omniscience for what felt like the hundredth time, he fell over the man's body, crying on his chest.

His heart constricted painfully; he had lost the only two people in the world who were anything remotely close to a real family. Sure, the Weasley's were close, but they were all his friends. Sirius had been like a father; Albus was like his grandfather. Both were his friends, and both were now gone.

"It's not fair," he sobbed, realizing, but not caring, that the front of the Albus' robes was stained with his tears.

Students were finally emerging from the castle to figure out what was going on, glad to be released from their dormitories. A few students became a large crowd, and Harry, without realizing it, put up a barrier to keep the students from getting closer than McGonagall was standing; Harry did not want anyone near him.

They didn't really know him, Harry realized. They could say they loved having him as a Headmaster, and that they would miss him, but not one of them, not even a fair few teachers, really understood anything about the man.

For instance, Harry knew he was the only other person besides Snape privy to the fact that the lemon drops Albus always offered were dipped in Veritaserum, and that was only because Snape had questioned him on where the truth serum kept disappearing to.

No one knew that, while he pretending to be looking over important documents, Albus preferred to come up with odd words of advice to say at different feasts and to students or teachers, should they come to him with a problem. He always liked to leave them confused about something that had nothing to do with why they came in.

And no one else besides Snape knew of the Horcruxes. No one knew where the two of them had been that night. No one else would have been allowed to completely demolish Albus' office the way Harry had the night Sirius died.

No one else in the entire castle could walk up to Albus' gargoyle and be let in automatically without a password; even the Professors needed the password.

Even now, when Minerva McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, would be considered the new Head of the school, the gargoyle would leap aside the minute Harry said he needed in; Albus had assured him of it.

No one knew him the way Harry had, and no other student had a right to gawk at his prone form from anywhere closer than ten feet, which was where he set the barrier.

Harry felt a presence in his mind and blocked it, but realized what it was.

"A-Albus?"

"The mind is always the last thing to go when you die, Harry." The presence seemed amused, despite the fact that it, in all honesty, should not have been there. "Ironic, considering it tends to be the first thing to go whilst we live."

"But, how?"

"My brain waves are still functioning, Harry. I apologize for my conceit, but I am a powerful wizard; I can still use this brief spell due to my ability to wandlessly and wordlessly spell-cast. I have one last request, Harry. Summon my wand and put it in my hands, but use that as a distraction. When you move my hands, take Gaunt's ring and the one to the left of it. You will need Gaunt's and I've been holding the other for you for a few years now."

"Albus, I—."

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry; I should have told you everything, but Severus has. In the letter."

"How did you know about that?"

"Fawkes informed me; he was watching Severus this evening to make sure nothing happened. I decided it was important for you to know everything in the letter, which is why I did not request Fawkes to burn it."

"So Snape isn't a traitor?"

"No, but the Order and everyone else, even Mister Weasley and Miss Granger, must think that way. You understand."

"Yes. I love you, Albus, as a grandfather, a mentor, and a friend. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me." Harry began crying harder, clasping Albus' cold and stiffening hand.

"I've loved you as a son, Harry." If Albus had been anything more than a presence, Harry was sure he would have been crying. As it was, he could hear the sorrow. "And I'm sorry for everything I've done; you deserved more than what I could and did give you."

"You gave me everything I needed. Just because I may have wanted something different doesn't mean what you gave me wasn't important. I have nothing more to do but thank you."

"Goodbye, Harry. We will meet again, not in the way you think, but soon. And after that, hopefully not soon."

"You know something again."

"Professor Trelawney may have made another Prophecy." A moment that, had he been alive, would have Albus' eyes twinkling.

"Blasted woman. I don't suppose I could ask?"

"She does not remember. You will see."

"Goodbye, Albus."

"Goodbye, Harry." He still felt the presence, but only mere moments longer. When it left, Harry was sure; Albus Dumbledore would not come back.

"Accio Albus' wand!" He registered gasps from the students at his use of the Headmaster's first name, but he ignored it; Albus was not his Headmaster any longer, and if he was completely honest, he had not been for awhile. This year, they had become friends. Family.

He slipped the wand between the frozen hands of his mentor, wondering at the lack of familiarity of the wand—it did not seem like the one Albus always used—simultaneously slipping the two rings off. Gaunt's, slightly dirty with its cracked black stone, shone dangerously as he slipped it to his right ring finger, the same place it had rested on Albus' hand.

The other was the Potter family ring, a solid gold band with rubies encrusted. On the inside, burning scarlet at his touch, were the words 'amor vincit omnia.' He slipped it onto his left ring finger, gasping when 'I Must Not Tell Lies' disappeared to be replaced by 'Love Conquers All.'

Harry stood and staggered from the scene, the students parting for him when he reached the crowd. Fawkes had begun his sad song, the notes piercing the night air, and Harry raised his wand to the sky. The others followed his example, in honor of Albus, and together, the light from their wands caused the Dark Mark Bellatrix had shot to disappear.

A strong feeling took hold and Harry shot his own spell into the air. For a moment, students looked in fear at him, for the spell, green, had looked like the Dark Mark spell; why would he shoot that back into the sky?

Shortly after, he conjured his Patronus to run with Fawkes in honor of Albus, but he was surprised to find that, like Tonks, his Patronus had changed. Prongs was still there, but now, a Phoenix, Albus as Harry named him, perched on one antler with a lily wrapped around the neck. A grim stood to the stag's left.

As he set the three animals off to follow Fawkes, he realized it had been before Sirius that Harry had cast his last Patronus; of course it would change now that Sirius and Albus were gone.

Around him, there was a mixture of awe, confusion, and laughter. The awe, no doubt, came from the Patronus', but he realized the latter two were coming from the jet he had cast at the sky. He sighed; he had only meant to send a light into the sky to follow Albus.

Suddenly, Harry found himself one of the individuals laughing. His blast of light had exploded into red and gold fireworks, disappearing in a spattering of stars and the appearance of a new one in the center of a figure that, he realized from Astronomy was Capricorn, the goat. The light shone brightly, illuminating what looked like an eye of the goat.

It certainly explained why Hermione could never find Albus' name in the Ministry's registered Animagus records or why he insisted on going everywhere invisible; who would want to transform into a goat?

Albus had once told him it was difficult to determine what Harry would be; a lion would be far too obvious and he wasn't as headstrong. A loyal badger was only loyal, and Harry had too many other qualities that would dissuade that. He was certainly not a snake just because of Voldemort's curse. He was loyal, courageous, brave, and forgiving. He was playful, but knew how to be serious, and always ready to help.

Harry had been desperate to know what he would be, so Albus cast a personality spell. Both had been surprised, but agreeing, when a silver wolf began circling Harry.

They were protective, fiercely, and loyal to their mates and the ones they loved. It really did fit.

Albus had said he would help train Harry to become an Animagus; he had known he would never make it. Harry couldn't bring himself to think anything ill of the man presently, though, especially considering he had just discovered his form had been a goat.

How unfortunate; the most powerful wizard in the world, a goat?

Suddenly unable to look at Albus' prone form, he walked back to the school, hoping no one tried to follow him. Following the memorized route to the Head office, he found himself in front of the gargoyle, which, true to Albus' word, sprang aside in an instant.

"Harry." He spun around, nonplussed. Surely he hadn't just heard Albus Dumbledore's voice. "Over here, dear boy." There, above McGonagall's new chair, was a golden-framed portrait, a lifelike painting of the previous Headmaster staring out at him; the artist even had gotten the twinkling eyes down.

"You realize, Albus, now that I know you're here, it may be difficult for me to not come up here every five minutes." Those twinkling eyes were fixated on him once more.

"I have faith in you, Harry. You know what you need to do." He nodded. "Now, Harry, I know you've always found my cryptic remarks to be, well, cryptic, but for once, I'm going to explain this one.

"You know what you need to do, and you must do it alone, but with help. Hermione and Ron cannot come with you, but I, in a sense, shall. Go to the desk and open the top right drawer where Riddle's diary is." Harry complied.

"Take the wand, diary, and the book with my name on it." The inky, stained diary looked horrible, but he forgot it quickly when he picked up the wand.

The warm feeling he had felt when he picked up his wand at Olivander's before his first year was nothing compared to this; Albus' true wand.

"The wand you had this evening…it wasn't yours." The man nodded. "So why did you want to be buried with it?"

"Because this wand is now yours. Unfortunately, you'll have to go through the trouble of finding Mr. Malfoy and disarming him in some way; the wand can only truly be yours if you defeat its previous owner."

"But wouldn't that be you? Or Snape, now that he's…well…"

"I'm fairly sure Mr. Malfoy disarmed me beforehand, which makes the wand his."

"But I disarmed him!" Accidentally, of course, but why mention that? "And then I disarmed Snape after he stunned me." Albus looked overjoyed.

"Then the wand already is yours. You'll need it, Harry; we cannot risk the priori incantatem happening again, for Voldemort may have discovered how to use it against you. This wand, it cannot be defeated, and now that you have two, you can fight back with the other and disarm those who attempt to defeat you. You must always stay in possession of this wand."

Harry looked at it, realizing what Albus had meant when he said he would always be with him. A fresh tear leaked from his eye, followed by more. How would he continue to do this job if Albus wasn't with him?

"The book, Harry." He could tell the portrait Albus would be crying if he could. "It's a journal I've kept. Not like Riddle's," he chuckled, spying Harry's uncomfortable look. "This one has everything already written in it; I cannot write back. Only you and I can access it, and I've permanently allowed my permission. You need only press your thumb against the lock," Harry did so, "and the book will open." Harry's signature wrote itself in gold across the cover.

The first thing Harry saw was a list of Horcruxes, two of which were already crossed out. The following pages were Albus' notes on where he suspected the remaining ones were.

"Harry, you need to leave," Albus suddenly interrupted him. "The Minister and Minerva are on their way up. Tell them you wanted to talk to me, that I told you my portrait would be here if anything happened. I, however, am going to pretend to be asleep for the moment." The portrait grinned. "I find I learn much more when others think I'm not listening." Harry returned the grin.

"That's called eavesdropping, Albus."

"Is it? I like to think of it as gathering intelligence."

"We'll talk soon, Albus." He recalled their roles being slightly reversed earlier, but how could this have anything to do with a Prophecy?

"Goodbye for now, Harry."

The wand and journals had barely been tucked away before the door moved open.

"Deeply troubling, Minerva, such a thing happening on Hogwarts' grounds! Death Eaters and a murder, very troubling."

"Shut up, Scrimgeour. You're starting to sound like Fudge, and we all know how great he did." Somehow, Harry knew it was the wrong thing to say, but the words they had at Christmas were still fresh, especially the ones regarding Albus.

"Harry Potter. I believe you know something," Scrimgeour glared, waving his hand over the door, locking it with a nonverbal spell, though not wandless; Harry saw the swish-and-flick.

"And I believe you have no business knowing what I know," Harry said, returning the snarky tone. Brilliant, Potter. You've just pissed him off more. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to leave. I believe you and the new Headmistress have things to discuss."

"Potter, I had hoped we were past this distrust phase. You are almost of age; it is time to stop this foolishness." If this was the Minister's way of getting Harry to comply, it was hardly going to work.

"I'm still Dumbledore's man, through and through, Minister." Scrimgeour turned an ugly shade of purple, but smirked when Harry reached the door.

"You can't leave, Potter. Minerva has not been named official Headmistress, which means this office falls under Ministry jurisdiction. Come to think of it," the man sized up Harry, "how did you get in?"

Harry reached for the doorknob and threw a look over his shoulder at the flabbergasted Minister.

"It's magic."

---

Hermione looked at Ron as Harry walked towards the castle. From his stance, she could tell he didn't want to be followed.

Harry had disappeared that night, no warning whatsoever given, and she had seen him, standing over Professor Dumbledore's body. Tears flew freely down her face and she buried her face into Ron's shoulder.

Ron seemed to understand Harry's mood as well, because he simply held Hermione, watching his best friend's quick retreat to the castle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the snake of a Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour. McGonagall followed him, seemingly pissed, but resigned to the fact that she would have to listen to him for a bit longer than she had wanted; which was not at all.

"Something wicked this way comes," he whispered. Hermione looked to see what had provoked such an odd line from him and froze when she did.

"Oh, shit. Harry probably went to Dumbledore's office, which is now—."

"—McGonagall's, which is where those two are headed which means—." They were both silent, both slowly, laughter erupted from the two of them despite the circumstances they were in.

"Harry's going to rip that man a new one." Ron looked at his girlfriend as of three hours ago.

"Hermione, can I please go watch?" She smacked him lightly.

"Boys; honestly!"

---

Harry had his rucksack packed no more than ten minutes after he entered his dormitory. He strapped his wand to his arm, and experimentally waved Albus'. He would need to learn how to use it, see if it had any differences from his.

The wand, he learned, was far more powerful than the average wand; his simple expanding charm, meant to triple the size of his rucksack, expanded it to fit nearly his entire dormitory. He could have fit his bed in if he wanted!

Instead, he placed his clothes, minus the robes, and his most basic bath needs; he could perform simple cleaning and refill charms after he turned seventeen. The fake Horcrux, the note from R.A.B., Riddle's diary, and the journal from Albus were added. He would have to stop somewhere and requisition a tent; smaller, of course, than the one from the Quidditch Cup, but still comfortable. Of course, that meant he would need to stop at Gringotts'.

It was amazing that even with all his supplies packed, he still felt as though nothing heavier than his usual school pack was in his hands. He remembered to put his Firebolt in, and, as he looked around the room, he realized he was going to miss it.

It was, after all, his home.

He made certain his invisibility cloak and the map were also in before performing a shrinking charm on the entire bag; it was small enough to fit in his pocket. He piled his books in the trunk and covered them with his robes, leaving out one set to wear to Albus' funeral. He had requested to say a few words, so he had to look semi-decent.

The Dursley's would lock away his trunk, a Wealey's Wizardly Wheezes wand tucked safely inside, thinking they had him where they wanted. His things would stay with him at all times, including his wands.

He had ordered Hedwig off, telling her he would think of her if he ever needed her; seeing as she was his familiar, she would come if he ever called. She flew to Mrs. Figgs', who had agreed to take care of her provided he paid for all her treats and such.

It would be a long month and a half before he could leave, but he would manage…somehow.

It was the funeral he didn't think he'd make it through.

---

"Will you be alright, Severus?" Draco looked at his godfather, seemingly alive, but broken inside; he could tell it had hurt to have to kill Dumbledore.

"I just wish," the man sighed, "I could go to the funeral."

"Maybe," Draco whispered, looking up at him. "Maybe you can." He held up a phial filled with an ugly brown substance. "But only for a few hours."

"You've forgotten your potion lessons, Draco. That would last one."

"Not if I nicked five of these. Slughorn needs to learn better protection skills; it was so easy to fill them."

"And who would I masquerade as, Draco?" Bracing himself, Draco held up the phial containing five strands of hair. He knew Severus would think he was off his rocker, but he couldn't watch him go through this.

"Slughorn?" It came as a complete surprise when Severus gave a sigh, disdainfully looked at the gray hairs and held out his hands.

"Do you know when the funeral is?"

"Tomorrow. The Dark Lord has given us free reign as long as we don't get caught; he needn't know where we are going. Besides, you could claim you went back for some important items you left in your office."

"Very well. And you?"

"I still have my father's invisibility cloak. I'll follow behind you." Severus nodded.

"Tomorrow, then. Hopefully, Potter has read the letter." Draco sighed. Everything had been going fine until he reality kicked in and the Dark Lord had forced all of this to happen. Why couldn't he have enjoyed at least a week more with Potter before all of this? And they had left on such bad terms; not to mention the Gryffindor had seen Draco aiming his wand at Dumbledore.

Yes, unless he read the letter and believed every word, he was doomed to never talk to the boy again. But what did he care? It's not as though he loved him.

"Severus, what exactly did you write in the letter?"

"The reasons behind my killing Albus. A few things I should have told him back when I was still a professor. Not much else."

"About me?"

"That your hand was forced, you weren't really trying to kill Albus, and that you are sorry." From the way Severus stared into his hands, Draco could tell it wasn't the whole truth, and he was worried to hear what else.

"And that you had not yet come to terms with your feelings, so it was imperative for him to not dwell over his own."

"Come to terms with my—? What feelings?"

"Admit it or not, the truth still stands; you love the boy, Draco." Blushing did not go well with pale Malfoy skin and bleach-blonde hair.

"You're out of your mind, Severus." Of course, the dark man would chuckle at that half-hearted attempt, but really! Draco Malfoy in love with Harry Potter?

Maybe the other way around, the loving Gryffindor falling for the corrupted Slytherin, but how could it go the other way? Impossible!

"You miss him."

"I miss having someone to piss off." He would just have to manage an excuse for anything Severus threw at him.

"You haven't stopped thinking of him since we got here."

"You haven't stopped thinking of Dumbledore."

"I killed him."

"I kissed him."

"You worry for his safety."

"I worry for yours."

"If he died…"

"…the Wizarding World would be doomed."

"Would you sacrifice yourself for him?"

"To save the magical community, yes." He could tell Severus was getting frustrated, but so was he; why was his godfather so determined to prove this.

"Whatever you wish to believe, Draco, feel free to do so. However, love is not a weakness; if Albus taught me anything, it was that. Denying this hurts you both, and it would be wise to sort your feelings out before you see him tomorrow.

For once, Draco had to agree with Potter; Severus could be a right git when he tried.

---

Two hours before the funeral, Harry still didn't have his eulogy written. How could he when the bloody letter kept staring back at him. He was going to end up improvising anyways.

Somewhere, Harry knew the letter was true, but at the same time, he didn't want to believe any of it. Because believing the letter was to believe Dumbledore knew he was going to die…and wanted to.

Potter—

Albus Dumbledore once told me some very wise words; "One day, you will understand." Well, Potter, one day you very well might. Hopefully, with the aid of this letter, today will be that day, but we shall see.

If you are reading this, Albus Dumbledore is dead, and Draco Malfoy and I have already fled. It also means you are feeling extremely tempted to pitch this into the fire; I would not blame you, but it might not be the most intelligent move on your part.

Even in a goddamn letter, Snape was taunting him.

I did not murder Albus; in every respect of the word, it was suicide. The Dark Lord assigned Draco a task, to kill Dumbledore, so that his wand would be easily accessible; I can only hope you realize this means you need to get that wand.

One step ahead, Snape. Score one for, well, actually for Albus.

My position as a spy was precarious at the start of this year; Bellatrix suspected me, and when Narcissa Malfoy contacted me, desperate for me to help Draco, refusing would have meant certain death for the both of us.

So I swore the Unbreakable Vow; I assure you, the toilet and I became much better acquainted very shortly thereafter.

When I informed Albus, he smiled at me, of all things. He said it fit into his plans quite nicely, and that, rather than find a way from the Vow, I should make sure Draco did not cast the final Killing curse. You see, Potter, he was dying.

Failing to remove the hexes and curses on Marvolo Gaunt's ring before wearing it weakened him; he was going to die within the summer regardless, but if he could save Draco and secure my spy position, this would be a much better way to go out. I was instructed only to make sure Draco disarmed him before I killed him.

Something only you and he know, I am sure.

Draco and I are to remain in hiding, doing the Dark Lord's bidding, until the final battle when we are to defect to the Light side. We cannot communicate, so I apologize; you may not ask more questions.

I was instructed to tell you a few things before I go into detail about other things; Dumbledore has left you the sword of Godric Gryffindor, but the Ministry will most likely take it, as it is not his to give. You need not worry; when you truly need it, it will come to you. From there, you may carry it with you; as you are Gryffindor's heir, it will come, and no Ministry wards are a match for Godric Gryffindor.

He also left you a vault filled with valuables; not money, but other things he though you would enjoy. The key is inside another thing he has left you in the will; he was determined that you would figure that one out yourself.

Onto slightly personal matters, there is a reason Draco is not writing this letter. Firstly, I know more on this subject and I was instructed to tell you this anyways. Draco could not have completed it satisfactorily.

Secondly, I feel I owe you some explanations from both myself and one from Draco.

I am sorry, Potter, for the way I treated you during your schooling. At first, it really was because I hated your father. I hated what he had stood for at school, I hated how he somehow managed to take my only friend and make her believe he was not the bigheaded bully he was, and I hated that you seemed just like him. I hated that I owed him a life-debt and that he died before I could fulfill it, meaning I was still connected to him when you came along.

But after last year, when you viewed that memory, you looked sickened, not smug. You did not care that you saw your most hated professor in his awkward teenage days; you saw your father the way I did, and you felt not pity, but almost compassion for me. I do not care to know what your muggle protectors do to you, Potter, to understand why you felt empathy rather than sympathy for me, but I apologize Albus left you with them all these years.

After that, it became second-nature to dislike you; I had to keep up the façade or junior Death Eaters would tell their parents and the entire operation would be blown out of the water, so to speak.

I hope, if we both survive this blasted war, Potter, we could be friends. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as I originally conceived the notion.

And Draco…do not push him, Potter. Draco does not love easily, and six years of animosity is hardly the proper start to a relationship. Maybe friends first, after this is all over? You may have come to terms with your preferences and the object of your affections, but Draco has grown up believing homosexuals are inferior and wrong simply because they cannot bare heirs, not to mention he was given the order to hate you for those six years.

Please give him time; I'm not sure how much he will need, but be careful not to push it. Remember; you hurt him, I hurt you.

Good luck in destroying the Horcruxes.

—Severus Snape & Draco Malfoy

It was oddly cheery, and yet; there was a combination of information and a tone of friendliness. It all seemed to add up; the way Malfoy and Snape acted, Albus' desire to keep Harry from knowing anything about them and dissuading any notions of betrayal.

He looked to his clock and wiped his face tiredly; half an hour until the funeral. Pulling the nondescript black robes with a phoenix crest over his head, he ran his hand through his messy, incurable hair before looking out the window.

Back in fourth year, Harry had realized if he sat at just the right angle, he could see the Headmaster's office. It always made him feel like he was safe, being somewhere Albus could keep an eye on him.

"Time to put on a damn good show," he muttered to himself.

Harry had overseen Albus' funeral preparations. He put charms on the invitations so the owls would notify anyone out of the country, the Daily Prophet ensured all of the United Kingdom knew, and word of mouth travels fast; anyone who should be at the funeral would be.

Harry had set up the apparation point, using Albus' wand, and had portkeys ready for people that would be staying in Hogsmeade. In forty-eight hours, Harry had taken his mind off everything by putting together the funeral of the year for his best friend; he put in even more effort than he thought possible to make up for the fact that a proper ceremony was not done for Sirius.

Finally, when all was said and done and people were seated, Harry looked around; a strange feeling crept up his spine as he looked around and saw Slughorn sitting near the back; the man loved being in the spotlight. Why would he be so far back when some of the people who had been on his shelf were so close to the front?

But the man looked at him, gave a brief nod, and centered his attention on Albus' body. Harry knew something was off; Slughorn hardly cared about Albus, and he never showed him the level of respect he was now. But Harry dismissed it and listened to the Ministry-appointed funeral speaker and McGonagall.

The speaker gave the cookie-cutter speech, a few noble words and interesting adjectives thrown in for good measure, but everyone could tell nothing was sincere about it.

Even McGonagall's speech was clear-cut and, while moving, hardly revealed anything about Albus as a person. It was all the same great wizard bullshit that everyone knew.

And then Harry stood.

"Hello, everyone. I'd like to thank you for coming on such short notice; we wanted the funeral to happen before the Hogwarts' students went home." He realized the way he spoke sounded like he didn't consider himself a student any longer. "I didn't actually write anything for this; every time I tried, it came out sounding like Mr. Anglens speech." The speaker flushed, trying to determine if the Boy-Who-Lived had just insulted him.

"And then I realized this was Albus Dumbledore's funeral; there were very few things he did plan, so wouldn't it be ever so fashionable to do the same?" A few hiccups were heard as women who had been sobbing attempted a laugh; a tear streaked down his cheek, but he held the rest in. He had to make it a little further.

"So don't judge me on this, because it's not exactly orthodox. You all know Albus Dumbledore was the world's greatest wizard; greater than Grindelwald, greater than Voldemort, and greater than me, your so-called 'savior.'" He ignored the gasps at the Dark Lord's name. "But there were things you didn't know about him.

"And I'm going to tell you some of these things now. Not all of them, because some of them were told in confidence, not to be disclosed at any time, but some things, because I don't want him to simply be remembered as the greatest wizard to ever live, the same way I don't want to be remembered as the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I want him to be remembered as Albus Dumbledore, the professor and Headmaster that changed Hogwarts, the man who always had a plan or at least knew how to pull off the illusion that he did. I want the world to remember him as I do; a great friend and a man who was so much more, but still just that—a man.

"His password to get into his office was always the name of a sweet, and, more often than not, it was muggle. I can't say how many times I did something stupid or needed help and sat in front of that damned door shouting 'acid pops' and 'lemon drops'. I daresay people thought I was crazier than he was." More laughs; it was a funeral and he was making them laugh—it seemed like the type of thing Albus would do.

"The twinkle in his eye that everyone always saw; that was not natural, my friends. He told me, when I was griping about a spell gone wrong that turned my hair green for a week, that when he and his brother were learning magic, Aberforth, his brother, cast a glitter charm on him, but forgot how to remove it. Rather than say the countercharm, he accidentally said the same spell three times; he claimed there was even a little left behind his ears, but I never bothered to check—a bit creepy, I thought. He managed to remind me all that week that, eventually, I would find the countercharm; he had to deal with seeing glitter everywhere for the rest of his life." No matter how short that had been.

He looked at the crowd; some of them were laughing, remembering Albus as he had been, and not mourning them as the man would have hated so much. True, they were all still crying, Harry included, but he was glad he had not done some cheap, rehearsed speech.

"Albus Dumbledore believed many things, and most of those beliefs he instilled in us. I cannot speak for my fellow students, but I find they are words and beliefs to live by that I will remember.

"He believed that if he could get one person to see the Light and change sides, it was all the motivation he needed to continue the war. It may have made it more difficult, and it made for a lot of sleepless nights spent sucking lemon drops, praying for a plan, but that didn't matter to him.

"He believed that everyone deserved a second chance, even those everyone else gave up on." Here, he looked at Slughorn; there was a stiffening in his back, confirming Harry's suspicions. He had to make sure the short man did not leave until Harry gave the say-so.

"And he believed that as long as one student at Hogwarts, seventh or first year, graduated or not, as long as one still needed him, he would never leave, which is why, at his request, we lay him to rest here, on Hogwarts' grounds." Harry turned to look at his mentor, friend, and grandfather.

"I won't say to rest in peace, Albus, because you would find that far too boring, so I hope that wherever you are, there's enough candy to keep you satisfied for centuries." At his final words, the audience rose to their feet and applauded, some more loudly than others, but all amazed at the words they had heard.

Those who did not know Albus Dumbledore were shocked and amused to discover some of the things Harry had revealed. Others, like McGonagall and Snape, though Harry did not know for sure he was there, were abashed to find a sixteen-year-old boy knew more about their leader personally than they did, especially considering their age.

"And Albus Dumbledore's final wish, to be put into action at the end of the last eulogy—." The crowd held its breath as Harry released the lemon drops that had been hovering over them. "There better not be any left." As the last lemon drop hit the ground, Albus' body became engulfed in white light.

From the bottom of the altar he lay on to a good six inches above the body, a pure white marble built up in the shape of a coffin, and as it solidified, a Patronus, Albus' by the phoenix that matched Harry's new one, burst forth, erupting in a flash of white light.

The coffin sank into the ground and, where it had been, there was now a white marble phoenix engraved with 'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.' Underneath, the four words engraved caused a bubble of laughter to escape Harry before he stepped down and walked to the front entrance, picking up a lemon drop on the way—he had to prepare to greet those entering the castle.

As he passed Slughorn, who was staring mournfully at the sour treat, he bent low and whispered, "Bring Malfoy with you." He could tell the man was stunned, but he ignored it, continuing towards the castle.

No one else understood what had caused Harry to laugh, because all the students that had heard the four words before had long forgotten by now, and none of the professors could remember his speeches from the beginning of the year, much less all the way back to Harry's first.

But Harry remembered; it had been their running joke. And as he positioned himself at the castle entrance, he murmured it to himself over and over.

"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak."

---

"Severus, how did he know?" Indeed, how had Potter figured out it was Severus beneath the Polyjuice mask? And how did he know Draco was under the cloak next to him.

"Unfortunately, Potter has always been more clever than I gave him credit for. And he will not lift the apparation wards or the shield until we meet with him, so we'd best go up to the castle." Although the blonde was still hidden, Severus knew he was nodding, resigned.

On the trip to Hogwarts, Severus had noticed the blonde was far more reserved, as though something was troubling him. Of course, it might have had something to do with the previous night, when Severus all but ordered Draco to man up and admit his feelings about Potter, whether he wanted to or not. Had the boy listened? Severus didn't much care; he wanted to know how Potter had figured out they were there.

From the tone of voice, it was obvious he had read the letter.

Severus had been one of the people who, like Minerva, had been surprised to hear Potter talk about Albus as though he had known him Albus' whole life; not just a short six years. There was something so mature about the boy that the potion master just couldn't put his finger on. Not that it mattered much; he was more concerned with the fact that Potter could out him with the flick of his wand.

"The question is—."

"—what does he want?" Draco completed his hanging sentence and the two stared after Harry.

"Severus, do you think…do you think Ha—Potter still loves me?" Severus smiled, still feeling odd in Slughorn's body.

"I wouldn't doubt it, Draco," he replied, quelling the boy's fear. "Now give me a moment, I need to down another one of these." He took the vile potion as if it were a shot and made the phial disappear before turning towards the castle. "Off we go."

---

"I wouldn't doubt it, Draco." The blonde didn't hear anything after those hopeful words.

The night previous, after a terrible combination of time, thinking, and a staggering supply of alcohol, Draco had 'come to terms' with his feelings, as his godfather enjoyed repeating.

There was a difference between sacrificing oneself for the good of the world and sacrificing oneself to save one person, and Draco would throw himself in front of the Dark Lord himself if he thought it would save Potter…Harry. He needed to start calling him Harry.

When he sat down on the rug, a bottle of Brandy in his hand, he simply stared at the fire for an hour, never taking a sip of the alcohol, thinking about love.

It meant wanting to be wherever that person was, being able to trust them explicitly, wanting to tell them everything. It meant giving them everything and wanting nothing in return but their love for you.

It meant being willing to let go if it saved them. And Draco had let go of Harry to save all of them. If he hadn't truly loved Harry, he wouldn't have left; he wasn't technically guilty. If he hadn't truly loved Harry, he could have stayed, betrayed the information that he could bring the Boy-Who-Lived in a brightly wrapped package to the Dark Lord's front door, and gotten him killed.

But he left.

Did that mean he necessarily loved the boy? Perhaps. But it did mean he felt more than he had been letting on, and only talking to him again would clear up exactly what it was he felt.

And that was why he followed Severus to where Harry stood, greeting those attending the funeral. Of course, they would have to hang back, but that would give them all the more time to talk without being interrupted.

"This is going to be interesting," Draco muttered.

"You've no idea," his godfather agreed. "Hopefully, we walk away from this alive." Draco didn't mention anything about the letter; he was sure Harry had read it. Although whether or not he had, there would still be a long, awkward conversation to follow.

Yes, it would be interesting.

---

This was hardly interesting. Granted, he knew a funeral wasn't supposed to be fun or interesting, but if he had to hear one more person say they were sorry for his loss or compliment him on his speech, he was going to take a jump in the lake and join Albus. Not to mention the females that kept trying to feel him up; not that a few males didn't try either.

Finally, the line came to an end and he saw the last three people in line; Minerva McGonagall, Rufus Scrimgeour, and a man masquerading as Horace Slughorn, which meant there were four people—Malfoy was under a cloak somewhere.

"Still not a chance of reconsideration?" Of course, the Minister was only interested in this again. "A man of your power and charisma could make a big change at the Ministry."

"Scrimgeour, I'm giving you one last chance. I am not going to be your poster boy. I am not going to attempt a Ministry takeover. I am going to do the job Albus set out for me to finish and kill Voldemort, and then I'm going to leave the United Kingdom and live a happy life far away from you."

"So Dumbledore did saddle you with a job; maybe the Ministry could send some Aurors to help?"

"I don't think that will work," he said sarcastically. "You remember Lucius Malfoy—tall, scary, blonde? He worked for the Ministry—managed to get some pretty good secrets while he was there—and I still don't know how many of your people I trust exactly. So thanks, but no."

Again, Scrimgeour discovered a whole new shade of purple, but he walked off to join the crowd in their wallowing and free 'spirits' that Harry and his enormous amount of money had managed to provide.

"Harry." He smiled at his Head of House, though she was technically his former Head now he wouldn't be coming back. "Thank you for honoring Albus with words that he truly would have loved to hear had he been able to." Rather than the traditional handshake, McGonagall leaned in and gave him a motherly hug.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Really, Harry," she said, looking at him skeptically. "After what you just said to the Minister, it's fairly obvious you're not returning. It's Minerva, if you don't mind." Harry grinned.

"Very well, Minerva. Try to keep Scrimgeour in check , please. I have some business to take care of with, uh, Horace." She nodded.

"I shall try. That man is a never-ending stream of idiocy." She continued muttering curses and insults at the annoyance of a Minister, but, much to Harry's surprise, she did keep a position in the room where she could watch him.

"Ah, Horace. I'm sorry to say, I didn't quite expect you; can I offer you some mead?"

"Shut it, Potter."

"Now, really. That is just a tad rude." The short man rolled his eyes. "Room of Requirement?" A short nod. "Will we be being followed?" Another nod.

"Follow me." When they reached the floor, Harry imagined a room much like Albus' office and sat in one of the chairs.

"How did you know?" Severus asked, once the door was shut.

"Lucky guess; plus you looked uncomfortable when I mentioned something about second chances. Not to mention Horace Slughorn would relish any oppurtunity to be front and center, ass-kissing to every person he could.

"And I knew how close you and Albus were. I'm assuming you came for the funeral, anyways. And take off that cloak, Malfoy; I don't like not knowing where you are." Amazingly, he complied.

"I read the letter; I understand everything. You two took a large risk coming here; if Voldemort had found out…well, I'm sure you already know." Severus looked as though he didn't know whether to be angry at the gall of the Gryffindor or simply sit back; he opted for the latter.

"Is there anything that needs to be said that wasn't in the letter?" Malfoy nodded.

"As a matter of fact, Harry, there is." Harry barely registered the use of his first name before soft, warm lips pressed themselves to his; Malfoy…Draco had certainly come to terms fast.

"I love you." Harry grinned and kissed the boy back until Severus made a coughing noise.

"Right. Anyways, after getting the required information from Albus, it seems I will be out of school this upcoming year. I know communication will be difficult, but if there is any way to tell me of any plans to kidnap me on my birthday, that would be most appreciated as I'm staying at my relatives' home until I come of age unless informed otherwise." Severus nodded.

"And you're sure about this, Harry?" Harry smiled inwardly; he was on a first name basis with a lot of people. It was almost odd.

"I need to end this. Go back to Voldemort; if Albus' death is to mean anything, you need to appear to still be on his side." He shook Severus' hand before coming to Draco. "I love you, Draco. And I'm going to rid the world of that snake-faced git, because, when I do, you and I are going to go on a proper date."

"Is that what you think, Potter?" Harry grinned and pulled the blonde to him in a passionate kiss.

"Yes, it is."

"I love you, Harry." The Gryffindor stepped back, handing Severus a twig.

"It will send you to Hogsmeade; you can apparate directly from there. Goodbye for now."

"Stay alive, Potter," Severus smirked, though they both knew it was fake.

"Same to you, Snape." He smiled softly at Draco and began the countdown. "Three…two…one." And they were gone.

And in a month and a half, so would he be—to avenge Albus and save the Wizarding World.

It really was a pain—being Harry Potter.

---

A/N: The next chapter won't be for a significantly long time, but I don't think I left that big of a cliffhanger, so I could end it now if I really had to. Just please review; the more I get, the more excited and encouraged I'll be to write another chapter. Otherwise, I might just leave it with this...

PLEASE REVIEW!