---
This story contains slash, torture, violence, and sexual situations. It has not only Harry/Draco, but Harry/Neville and Hermione/Ron as well.
Thank you to my lovely beta, Hecticity.
---
"Father! Wait, I can't keep up!" Draco panted, but his words were lost in the darkness and mist.
He had failed both Voldemort and his family, and now they were running, hoping the Death Eaters wouldn't follow them into the Forbidden Forest. Lucius held tightly to Narcissa's hand, pulling her along, while Draco trailed after them. Narcissa was wailing, calling for her son, and Lucius was snapping at her.
"This is no time to be worried about the disgraceful boy!"
Something wrapped itself around Draco's ankle, and he fell, hitting the ground hard. He lay stunned for a moment before scrambling to his knees and shuffling forward. His parents were already far ahead of him. He could barely see them anymore.
"Father! Mother!"
Whatever it was that had tripped him still clung tightly to his foot, and Draco struggled against it. He was dirty, cold, and scared – though he would never admit to anyone that he was. He tried to convince himself that if he could go back and do it all over, he wouldn't fail.
"Father!"
But they were gone, swallowed by the forest.
Draco struggled for a bit longer, but more vines and roots twisted around him, holding him to the forest floor. He tried to pound his fist in the dirt, an indignant show of frustration, but found his arm held down tightly. Realizing that he couldn't reach his wand, Draco tried to form a defensive spell in his mind, but he was too tired and weak to gather the strength or concentration required for wandless magic.
He gave up. All he could hope for now was someone to either rescue him or kill him.
The forest went silent around him. His fear mounted, and his breathing grew increasingly ragged. Before he could stop it, a loud sob escaped his lips.
He held his breath. What if someone, or something heard that? They'd come after him. He'd die.
Draco didn't want to die. He began to panic, even more so than before.
Then there were footsteps, and Draco simultaneously hoped that they were coming for him, and that they would pass him by. If it was a Death Eater, he would die, and if it was a member of the Order… well, they'd probably kill him too. Shit.
Why had he agreed to Voldemort's assignment? To kill Dumbledore? There was no glory in killing old, defenseless fools! Besides, he wasn't a killer, even though he'd like to think he was brave enough. To back down like he had was cowardly.
The footsteps drew closer, and Draco dropped his head to the ground, hiding his face in the leaves and underbrush – as if that would do any good.
A shock of light – Draco was almost sure it was green – swept through the trees, and Draco was sure it was the end for him; but then whatever was holding him down seemed to disappear, and he was being dragged harshly to his feet. His vision was swimming, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Come on, Malfoy, get up!" The voice was familiar, but in that moment, Draco couldn't quite place it. He felt weak and lightheaded, and leaned against the person.
"Can't you support your own weight? Are you hurt?"
The voice was now laced with concern. Draco opened his eyes tentatively, and blinked a few times. The forest slowly came into focus, and he turned his head to look at the person he was leaning on.
"Potter!"
He stumbled backwards, surprised both at the presence of the boy, and how loud his voice seemed in the quiet forest. Harry caught his arm before he fell and pulled Draco back toward him.
Draco struggled. "Let go of me!"
"No! Not if you're going to run again."
"What do you want from me?"
Harry gasped and looked away. Draco sneered. "Look, Potter-"
"Shut up," Harry said. He craned his neck, looking for something. Then Draco heard it too: there were voices in the distance.
Harry lurched forward, pulling Draco with him. "Come on!"
Draco stumbled again, then began running alongside Harry. He wasn't even sure why. But Harry didn't seem like he wanted to kill Draco, and what mattered most in that moment was survival.
Draco noticed for the first time that there was a dull ache in his right ankle. He tried to ignore it, but it grew persistently worse the farther they went.
"Where are… we… going?" he panted.
"We'll loop around and come out near Hagrid's hut. He'll hide you," Harry said confidently
"I'm not… taking he... help from… dirty… half-breeds."
"Shut up, Malfoy, you sound pitiful."
Harry's hand tightened on Draco's arm, dragging him along. Sharp pain shot up his leg every time he landed his right foot. Draco wanted to protest more, but he was having trouble breathing. Arguing with Potter just didn't seem worth it at the moment.
Finally, Harry stopped running. Draco staggered to a clumsy stop, nearly running straight into him.
"Why-"
"Shut up," Harry demanded again.
Draco prepared a scathing remark, but decided against it. His life was on the line, after all.
Harry and Draco listened to the forest for a moment. They could hear an owl in the distance, but no footsteps. They seemed to be safe for now. Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Come on," Harry said. He let go of Draco's hand and trusted him to follow, but Draco didn't move.
After a few steps, Harry stopped and turned, an expectant look on his face.
"Why did you save me?" Draco demanded.
Harry paused before answering, "You were in danger."
"We've done nothing but fight these last few years."
"I… yeah. Sorry about that."
Draco didn't have a response for that. Potter was apologizing?
"Look, Malfoy, the Death Eaters are after both of us. They could find us at any minute, and I know a way to protect us both. So you either come with me, or you face death again."
Draco narrowed his eyes, debating. Could he make it on his own? He certainly didn't want help from Harry-Bloody-Potter. Draco made up his mind and turned around. He began walking – or rather, limping, as his ankle hurt even more now – in the opposite direction Harry had been taking him.
"Malfoy!" Harry called.
"I don't need your help," Draco sneered.
"Fine then!" Draco turned in time to see Harry stomping away, presumably toward Hagrid's hut.
---
Draco didn't know where he was, or where he was going. He hoped he was moving away from Hogwarts, but at the same time, hoped he would come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest soon. He hated the eerie quiet, the cold breeze, and most of all, the nearly debilitating throbbing in his ankle. It seemed like he'd been walking for hours, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on.
He tripped, again. "Fuck!" He landed hard on his hands and knees, pain shooting through his wrists. It seemed the forest was out to get him. He couldn't count the number of times he'd fallen that night.
"What are you doing here?"
Draco looked up, afraid. Two centaurs stood above him, weapons drawn. One was dark in both fur and skin, the other paler with red fur. The dark one stomped his hooves irritably.
"Answer, boy," he demanded.
"I… I don't know. I didn't mean to… I'm trying to get out of here." Draco hated how desperate he sounded.
"Why did you enter our forest?" the dark one asked again, obviously looking for answers Draco wasn't prepared to give.
"I followed my father."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know!" Draco was becoming increasingly frustrated, with both the centaurs' questioning and his own fear.
"Liar!" the centaur accused. His voice echoed through the dense forest.
Draco cowered on the ground.
"No! I'm sorry!" Draco cried, even as something in the back of his mind said, Malfoys never apologize.
"Bane," the red-furred centaur said. His voice was less harsh than the darker one's – Bane's – and Draco chanced a look up.
"What, Ronan?"
"Look at him. He tells the truth."
Bane snorted. "We should kill him. He should never have come here in the first place."
"He is a child."
"He is old enough to know to stay out of places where he doesn't belong."
Ronan seemed to notice for the first time that Draco was listening to them intently, and lowered his voice, so that Draco couldn't hear their argument.
Draco scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt and dead leaves from his robes. He scowled in what he hoped was a menacing manner. He was still a Malfoy, after all. He began to back away, taking small steps.
The centaurs seemed to finish their debating, and Bane turned back to Draco. He noticed the new distance between the centaurs and the boy, and in an instant he had bounded toward Draco, grabbed him, and pinned him against a wide tree. Draco's feet dangled several inches above the ground, and he whimpered pitifully.
"You can't run from us, boy!"
"Bane!"
The centaur paused. Bane's eyes widened as he recognized the voice. "Hagrid." His voice was laced with contempt, and Draco could tell the two weren't on the best of terms. Great. He did not need that oaf to attempt to rescue him.
Bane shifted so he could look at Hagrid.
"Let the boy go," Hagrid said.
Bane laughed. "No."
Hagrid raised something sharp and metal. It took Draco a moment before he realized it was a crossbow.
"Let him go!" Hagrid roared.
Draco cowered. He had never seen the clumsy half-giant so forceful, so determined.
Bane scowled and dropped Draco. He landed on his hurt ankle, which promptly gave out on him. He collapsed in a heap at the creature's hooves.
"He is in my forest, Hagrid, and he is not a boy. He needs to be punished."
"The boy has been through enough already tonight," Hagrid insisted. He paused. "There were Death Eaters in Hogwarts," he whispered, as if saying such things out loud were forbidden. "Dumbledore is…" he couldn't finish, but the giant-sized tears that welled in his eyes said enough.
"No," Ronan said. Hagrid nodded.
"Voldemort finally did it, then," Bane said.
Hagrid shook his head. He peered at Draco, and his gaze was almost accusatory. "No," he said finally. "Snape."
Bane looked up at the sky, and Hagrid lowered his crossbow.
"Tough times are truly upon us, aren't they?"
"Yes," Hagrid agreed, following the centaur's gaze.
Draco looked up, but all he saw were leaves and stars.
"Do you think the boy will make a difference?" Bane asked Hagrid.
"Yes."
"Then take him."
Hagrid nodded, and Draco nearly cried, he was so relieved. He scrambled up from the ground and followed Hagrid, limping the whole way. The half-giant offered to carry him, but he was too proud for that. So Draco limped, in pain, behind him, struggling to keep up with Hagrid's pace.
Finally, they emerged in the familiar garden behind Hagrid's hut, and Draco sighed with relief. Hagrid ushered him inside and closed the heavy door behind them.
Draco's eyes immediately wandered to the far corner, where three figures sat, huddled in front of the fire. He recognized them as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Granger was leaning against the Weasel, and Harry was stroking the head of a large dog. Draco wanted more than anything to lay in front of that fire with a soft blanket, but he had too much dignity to share it with Mudbloods and blood traitors.
Hagrid, of course, had no such class.
"Hiya," he called. All three of them looked up. Harry and Ron's faces were grim, but Hermione managed a small smile. "Look who I found in the Forest." Hagrid gestured to Draco, who scowled.
"Lucky you," Ron said sarcastically.
"Nice to see you too, Weasel," Draco quipped.
"Shut up, Ferret," Ron started.
Hermione got up. "Stop it," she said. She walked toward Draco and held out her hand. "I'm sorry for our past, but something has come up that requires us to work together. The three of us-" she gestured to herself and the two boys- "are willing to make a truce. Please say you'll accept."
Draco frowned. "Why do you need me?"
Hermione dropped her hand to her side and took a deep breath. "You know where You-Know-Who is. You know how to get to his Death Eaters, or at least… at least your father. And… you know where Snape has run to, don't you?"
Draco sneered. "I've only seen Voldemort in person once. I am… was… a new recruit, so I don't know any of the things you think I do. My father has fled, and he took my mother with him. And Snape… well, actually, I may know where he's gone."
Hermione looked hopefully at him. "You've been inside, with the Death Eaters, though. You grew up with one. Surely, there are things you know that we don't!"
"Give up, Granger! I probably don't know much more than you do!"
"But it's something!"
She moved closer to Draco, eyes begging for the information. Draco took a step back, momentarily placing all his weight on his bad ankle. It gave out on him again, and he fell, again.
Hermione's eyes widened. "I'm sorry!" She moved to help him up.
"Don't touch me, Mudblood!"
Hermione stopped. Draco could tell the word still hurt her. She slowly wrapped her arms around herself, and Ron rushed protectively to her side.
"Don't talk to her like that. You're nothing but a dirty-"
"Ron!" Harry spoke for the first time. Without removing his gaze from the fire, he continued. "This isn't the time for arguing. Malfoy, we want to make a truce with you. We think that if we combine what I know and what you know about Voldemort, we can win this war. We can make our world safe again."
"What if I don't want you to win this war?" Draco demanded from his place on the floor.
"If Voldemort wins, we will all die. After your failure tonight, that includes you."
Draco tried to come up with a scathing remark, but he knew Harry's words were true.
"I hate you." Draco's voice came out as a low growl.
"No. You want to hate me, but you know that I'm right."
Draco hung his head, biting at his lip. It was a nervous, childish habit he had never quite grown out of. "Why do you trust me?"
"Because you didn't kill Dumbledore." Harry's breath hitched, and Draco could tell he was trying not to get upset over it.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Draco tried to pull himself up from the floor. He winced as he put weight onto his injured ankle.
"You're hurt," Hermione said.
Draco shook his head, but of course she didn't believe him.
"What happened?"
"I… I fell in the forest. My ankle…" Draco trailed off. He hated this. This was showing weakness, and Malfoys didn't…
Well, it didn't really matter what Malfoys did and did not do anymore, did it? His parents had abandoned him, choosing to save themselves instead of helping their weakened son. It hurt, and Draco suddenly felt very alone.
Hermione pulled a chair over to Draco, and he sat, unusually compliant. She lifted his right leg.
"This ankle?" she squeezed lightly, and Draco nodded, wincing.
She carefully removed his shoe and sock, to examine the swollen limb. "If Madam Pomfrey weren't so busy…" she began.
"It's just a sprain," Draco assured her. He scowled and tried to pull away, but Hermione held on to his leg.
"Come on, Hermione, you know how to fix that," Ron encouraged.
"I'm not a mediwitch."
"But you know nearly every spell known to wizardkind!"
Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand. She muttered a spell, and Draco felt a tingling sensation running up his leg. After a moment, the pain eased, and the swelling went down.
"This will make it heal faster, but it will probably still be tender for a few days."
Draco nodded, and Hermione managed a weak smile for him.
"Aren't you going to thank her?" Ron demanded.
Draco glared at him.
"It's not important, Ron," Hermione tried to assure him.
She looked at her hands, fingers absently toying with her wand. Draco felt like he should say something. Was this guilt? Merlin.
Draco took a deep breath and swallowed what little pride he had left. "No, he's right," he said through gritted teeth. "Thank you, Granger."
Hermione smiled, and Draco began to think maybe it wouldn't be so bad being around these people.
Wait.
When, exactly, did he concede to helping them? Staying with them? He was getting soft.
No, he was just tired. He hadn't slept properly in… well, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept through the night. All of this Death Eater crap had been eating away at him. He'd been too worried that something like what had happened would happen.
That was it. He was tired, and stressed, and hurt. He'd come to his senses soon, and everything would be back to normal.
Maybe this was just a bad dream.
All he wanted now was to curl up in front of that fire and sleep. He'd figure it all out in the morning.
Draco yawned.
"We should all get some sleep," Hermione said softly.
"Right." Hagrid spoke for the first time since he had first entered the hut. "Might as well stay here. You're all safe with me. I'll get blankets, and… erm… food. Are you hungry at all?"
Ron and Draco shook their heads and Hermione voiced a soft, "No." Harry continued to stare into the fire, as if mesmerized by the flames.
"Harry?" Hagrid coaxed.
"No," Harry said. His voice shook in a way Draco had never heard from him before.
Another uncomfortable silence overtook the hut, and Hagrid went about gathering pillows and blankets. He laid them in front of the fire, and the others got comfortable for the night. Ron and Hermione lay close, fingers entwined. Draco lay a few feet away from them, wrapped in a green quilt that smelled of some sort of spice he couldn't quite identify. Harry sat apart from them, hugging a pillow to his chest and leaning against Fang.
"Night," Hagrid called, before dousing his lanterns.
"Good-night," four voices chorused, though with little enthusiasm. There was little that was good about that night, after all.
Hagrid's deep snores could be heard within minutes, and soon Ron and Hermione were asleep as well. When Draco fell asleep, Harry was still staring absently into the fire.