Now.

Harry walked with tensed, muffled steps down the looming corridor, wand in hand. His fingers were shaking. With every step, his heart hammered so fiercely Harry was sure it would burst out of his chest.
He had hoped that this time, it wasn't real. He had hoped that, like with Sirius, Voldemort was just messing with his mind. If it were unreal, Harry would face Voldemort once more, with relief and vengeance. If it were real?

Earlier.

I've got him, Harry. He's here.
Got who?
A dark, looming corridor. A white flash, then a dark room. A figure, a person, strapped to a chair.
He's here, Harry. Here and frail.
Dirty white hair. Blood. Lots of blood.
I'll kill him, Harry. I'll kill him!
The shattered face of the boy. Grey eyes. Crying. Pleading. A white flash. The door, closing on him. A white flash. The corridor. A white flash. A door. Hovering. Grass surrounding. A field. With a hovering door.
I'll kill him!
A white flash - the door - a white flash - I'll kill him! - a white flash – the corridor – flash – the door opens – flash – the chair – flash – the face - I'll kill him, Harry!
Him. His grey eyes tearful and bruised.
I'LL KILL HIM!

Him.
Draco Malfoy.

"Harry!"
Harry sat bolt upright, as if he were struck by lightning. He was covered in a cold sweat, and Ron was shaking him roughly by the shoulders. He looked up at the blurry face of Ron with frantic eyes, reaching for his glasses.
"He's got him. Voldemort's got him." Harry was choked up.
"Who? Harry, I don't understand where you're going with this."
Harry, in mid-search for clothes, stood up and looked at his best friend.
"Is it not blindingly obvious? Voldemort has him- and he's going to kill him!"
Ron stopped Harry at the foot of his camp bed.
"Was it one of those dreams?"
Harry barged past him, heading over to where his trunk lay on Ron's floor.
"Harry…" Ron looked at him with wary eyes, "What if it's…"
"What if it's what, Ron?!" yelled Harry, his head appearing through a jumper, "I haven't got time!"
He left the room running, and Ron followed him as he launched himself down the stairs.
"Quiet, you'll wake the whole house!" he whispered, joining Harry as he came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase.
"What if this dream is just like…like Sirius?"
Harry looked at Ron. Properly looked, and Ron could see the fear in his eyes.
"I should bloody well hope so," he croaked, "because as much as I dislike him, I do not want Draco Malfoy to die on my account."
He left, leaving Ron frozen in the doorway of the Burrow.

Now.

This was it. Harry walked the last two steps to the door and stopped, eye to eye with a nail-sized hole. His hand hung limply, holding his wand, by his side.
"Lumos."
He had made it here. Using Wilkie Twycross' 3 Ds, he'd focused completely on Apparating to the dreams' field.
His hand was shaking as he raised his wand to the hole.
He had found the hovering door, and stepped through it to find the huge corridor. He'd walked until his feet ached.
His whole body was shaking now as he put his eye to the hole. Inside, he could see s shape on the ground.
That was enough.
Harry stood back and, all magic abandoned, kicked the door. It burst open, and he rushed to the figure on the ground. The chair he sat on in the dream was on top of Draco's legs, and what looked like dried blood was smeared across one of the legs- whilst clear splinters of wood were wedged in a gash on the frail boy's ankle.
"Malfoy?" Harry put his fingers to Draco's neck, and felt a faint pulse. "Malfoy? Draco?"
He lowered himself to the ground to be level with Draco's face, and checked again for a pulse.
On Harry's touch, Draco's eyes fluttered.
"Yes, come on, open your eyes for me, please open your eyes," Harry kept up a stream of begs as Draco's eyelids fluttered before opening slightly. When they recognised Harry's face, they opened fully, and Harry had never seen so much fear in them. he knew that his own eyes mirrored the fear, and he clutched the bloodied hand Draco tried to raise, keeping it at his chest.
Draco's mouth moved; he was trying to form words.
"Shh," Harry said, pressing a finger to Draco's lips, but a strangled sound still emitted from the 17-year-olds' throat.
"H-Harry…" his eyes filled up and he shut them in obvious pain, "Y-you can't s-stay h-…h-here.."
"Neither can you," Harry replied, "We're getting you out-"
But as he said it, he realised his words were useless, as Draco's eyes were becoming unfocused, rolling, and he was choking out gasps of air.
"No – Ma – Draco – don't do this – no, stay with me – "
He grasped the other boy's hand, his frantic pleas getting louder-
"No, Draco – No! NO! Stay HERE, Draco Malfoy! Stay with ME! No, no! Don't do this not now!"
Draco was losing consciousness. Although his grip on Harry's tightly clasped hand was vice-like, it looked like he was having trouble holding on.
"I'm sorry! Stay! No, stay! I'm sorry for 6 years of hell- no! Don't do this! Stay with ME, Malfoy, Planet Earth! NO! Don't do this, not now, not EVER!"
Draco's grip was getting weaker. Harry's voice had an angry panic to it.
"No! Don't you dare, don't you DARE, Draco! Not you as well, you can't-"
Draco's hand was limp. He'd stopped breathing.f
"No- no, no please! NO, not here, not NOW!"

A message appeared, dripping, on the wall;

YOU'RE TOO LATE

Harry's eyes widened, wet with grief. "No…" his voice came as a low croak, "no..no, no, NO!" A dry sob rattled his bones, and he gathered Draco's broken body into his arms.
The body lay limp, blank grey eyes staring unseeingly into the bloody message on the walls. Draco's body shook as Harry held him to his heart, choking out sobs.
A corridor, a door, a field away, someone very tall with ginger hair Apparated into existance as someone else drifted their way out.

Later.

Harry paused outside the door, fiddling with his black tie. He could hear voices behind the door. He conjured up a glass and put his ear on it to the floor to hear more clearly;
"…he's really messed up about it. When I found him, he was just sitting there, rocking back and forth…with the body in his arms."
Ron sounded sombre, like he really didn't enjoy recounting this. Hermione's voice floated in:
"You say he was…beaten? Malfoy."
"Yeah..covered in blood, bruises, and Harry was just holding him together- like a broken limb. It was just.."
Ron sighed. Harry heard footsteps, and then-
"Well, at least Harry was there. It would have been horrible of nobody-" Hermione sniffed -"found him-"
"Hermione, I tried to stop him from going when he woke up from that dream! I tried to convince him it wasn't real!"
There was a long silence. More footsteps.
"What did you say?" Hermione whispered.
"I said…I said, what if it was just another Sirius? And he-he…" Ron sniffed.
"Go on.."
"He said, I bloody well hope so." A chair creaked as Ron sat. "I think he meant…that if it was a fake, then he could least count on the fact that Malfoy – Draco – wouldn't come and try and save him from You – from Voldemort-"
Ron's voice broke off, and Harry could hear them both, crying. He couldn't take this anymore. Not on Draco's funeral. He left, his pace increasing.
He left the Manor, and as soon as his feet touched non-Malfoy land, he ran. He ran as if there were no tomorrow, and only stopped when he collapsed onto the ground.
His arch-nemesis of 6 and a half years had died in his arms, all because of Voldemort. Harry's new-found anger gave him more energy. He ripped off his black Muggle blazer and ran into the forest.

By the time Ron and Hermione found his clothing on the grass, he was long gone.

FIN