Harry's mind was made up. He was going to save the world that was falling down around his ears.
Messy black hair was tossed back and forth accross his scarred forehead in the light summer breeze. Calloused hands--the results of years of quidditch--rested gently on the veined white marble of Albus Dumbledore's tomb. I caused this, he thought. If I had been stronger--expected--. For what seemed the millionth time, Harry's thoughts strayed to the attack. He mulled over the fact that someone else either had the locket, or had destroyed it. He mourned the fact that his mentor was dead. But he was also curious about one thing; one person. Draco Malfoy.
What exactly was the story with Malfoy? Harry didn't get it. He had pegged Malfoy as an odious boy with a penchant for violence that bordered on sickening. But now he began to wonder. Who was Draco Malfoy, really? He wasn't sure of anything, now. Doubt lingered in the shadows around every corner, clinging to the deep recesses of his mind that he would normally rather leave untouched; unthought of. But now, now he didn't have the luxury of not thinking about it. That was what got him in trouble last time.
Everything is different now, brown skin clenched the marble with enough force to bleach his knuckles white, I don't know anything anymore except for what I have to do. But I don't know how to do it! This. Is. So. Stupid--
His rapid thoughts were cut off by the light crunching of gravel beneath the feet of someone behind him.
Harry nimbly spun around to face Hermione Granger, who looked frazzled and tired, concern overlapping the overwhelming fatigue that seemed to be affecting everybody the last day or so. Caramel hued curly hair framed her face, pink with exertion. Blue-black bruises sulked under her warm brown eyes that had turned from lively and happy to dull and dejected. She carried herself without her usual stature of confidence; seeming to have shrunk from the great weight that was now being carried on her shoulders.
She reached him a moment later, and rested a hand gently on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Harry? We were all looking for you, we needed to talk to you about something--" She cut off her ramble at the look on his face, "I'm sorry, do you want me to leave? I'll leave if you want me to. I didn't even think, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have--". She took a tenative step backwards, as if to leave. Different emotions played behind her expressive eyes - remorse, guilt, worry- and Harry felt all the worse for it.
"Herm, its okay." His chest heaved a sigh. "I just needed to get away for a few minutes." He cast a small but reassuring smile her way and held his hand out in a comforting gesture, which she took without hesitation and they trudged back to the castle together to speak with the newly instated Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
By the time Harry and Hermione had reached her office, Ron and Ginny were already seated in two stiff armchairs that seemed to be characteristic of McGonagall. The office had changed little since she had taken up residence in place of Dumbledore.An ancient telescope still sat by the window, waiting to be gazed through. Fawkes sat on her perch and hung her head mournfully, no longer emitting any noise; quieted by her master's death. Harry supposed she didn't have the heart to change the office more than she had to, he knew that if he were in her shoes, he would not have been able to either. She waved her wand and two more chairs appeared, making a gesture to sit. They sat.
The silence draped a heavy blanket of tension over them and all at once they suddenly began spouting off explanations without much regard for anybody else. She raised her hand again and they all quieted. The Headmistress looked pointedly at Harry. "Speak, Potter."
"Well, I've been thinking about this," He said at length, "and I'm going to fix what I messed up. I'm going to do what I have to do. And I'm going to do it alone." At this he turned to his friends; his eyes begging noiselessly for forgiveness. He was met with cold stares all around.
"If you think your going alone, your insane." It was Ginny who had spoken up, and she looked positivley livid. Harry's rejection still stung, but she was over it. She had more important things to think about, really. Now wasn't the time.
"Gin--you know better than anybody else--" Harry began.
"First of all, don't call me Gin. And what I know better than anybody else is that you can't do this alone. In your first year, you needed Ron and Hermione to help you get to the Sorcerers Stone. You're second year, I couldn't face Tom on my own, you saved me. Third year, Ron and Hermione faced down Sirius with you. Fourth year, Cedric saved your butt in the second task. In fifth year, you needed us at the Ministry, you know it, too. And this year, Dumbledore needed you to get the--whatever you needed to get. Even Dumbledore needed help! You can't do this yourself. Going by yourself would be suicide. You need to get that notion through that stubborn hero-complex thick head of yours, and you need to do it now." Ginny finished her speech with a flourish, her face first turning a brilliant red, and then quieting down to a rosy pink.
He didn't reply to that, because he knew the truth of her words, though he wanted to deny them until he believed his own. I know I need them. I just don't want them to get hurt. He held his head in his hands for a moment, and sat up slowly, removed his glasses, and rubbed his emerald eyes slowly. "I know, Ginny". He was careful to not call her by her nickname, and it ached that he had hurt her; betrayed her that much. "I--I just couldn't stand the thought of any of you getting hurt. I don't know what I would do, to be honest". A shaky laugh escaped his mouth, and he quieted, waiting for someone else to speak and fill the void that their lack of communication left behind.
"I suppose it's settled, then. Return to your dorms, and I will be along in short order to help you prepare for tomorrow. You leave at dawn." And with that being the only detail revealed to the four, they heard the dismissal in her voice and got up to leave. Ron strode out first, Ginny hurrying after him, obviously not willing to acknowledge Harry any more than necessary, and thus this left Harry and Hermione to walk back together, again.
Draco woke with a start to a dark room, laying between scratchy sheets. He was soaked in sweat, and breathing heavily, which was uncharacteristic of him. Damn, what the hell...Oh shit! Suddenly the events of yesterday flooded back to him in a rush of memory. Much of it was blurred, snippets of moments, but they were enough to piece together what had transpired.
"Where are we going, Snape?" Even to his own ears, Draco sounded like a scared little boy, not a young man going on seventeen. He was disgusted with himself. Weak, he was weak!
"Soon enough, Mister Malfoy." Was all the potions master murmured as they trudged further into the forbidden forest.They had been walking for perhaps two hours now, making seemingly random paths through the trees, him not knowing what they were looking for or if they could even deal with what they found.
He found that he could not block the image of the old man flying off the edge of the tower, about how now he was probably off to be killed right now. He was scared, more than he had ever been in is life.
"Why did you do it, Professor?" He near-whispered. He needed to know, and could not stand keeping quiet any longer, though he knew the response would probably not be a pleasant one.
"Because I had to." He replied, simply. He went on to retell the tale of the unbreakable vow he had made with Draco's mother, and of how he really was on Dumbledore's side. "We had agreed upon this already, you see. If I were faced with a situation such as that, I was not to blow my cover, he said that we could all manage without him, that he had left enough for us all to get by on. I'm taking you somewhere you will be safe, Draco, that is all you need to know." He answered Draco's previous qustion. And everything went black for Draco for awhile.
When he next awoke, they were out of the forest and Snape was striding quickly, nearly running, through an open field, and grey skies signaled sunrise was fast approaching. Draco was gliding along next to the man, and let out a small yelp of suprise as he realized that his feet were not touching the groud.
"Hush, Malfoy." And without warning, the blonde was dropped out of the air and onto the ground, and he managed to somewhat gracefully scramble to his feet and match the Professor's long strides. Slate eyes scanned the horizon, attempting to discern their location. It had been the dead of night when they had fled from Hogwarts, so they must have been traveling for about six hours already, he deduced, which left him with four hours of being unconscious. He had no idea where he was, and he didn't like it one bit.
"I've had enough waiting. I want to know where I am. I want to know where I am going. I want to know why I'm going there, and I want food. I'm hungary." His arms crossed petulantly over the now ripped remains of what had been death eater robes.
A large sigh heaved from the tall, dark, but not very handsome man. "Of course you've had enough waiting. You are a Malfoy, are you not? You are in the middle of nowhere, at the moment. You will find out where your going when you get there, and you are going there for safety."
Draco threw his arms up to the sky in frustration at the Professor's cryptic answers. His white blonde hair ruffled in the light breeze, and he tried to flatten it back into its rightful place, but it did not seem to wish to cooperate with him at the time. This annoyed him to no end. 'Great, it now seems that my hair has been replaced with Saint Potter's, I'm dirty, my robes are absolutly ruined, and I'm still hungry.' Draco thought to himself, thinking it wise to keep his complaints to himself.
A low hill appeared in front of them, and Snape motioned for him to stop with a swipe of his alabastar hand. He took out his wand, and began dismanteling what appeared to be wards of some sort. The pale boy glanced around nervously, suddenly feeling extremely exposed in the open field with no cover to speak of. His hand rubbed the back of his neck in an unusual show of uncomfortability and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.
He noticed that the air in front of him had begun to shimmer iridescently. It was almost unnoticeable at first, but what had started as a niggling out of the corner of his eye soon took on the appearance of a wave of air. All at once, it ended, and a good sized house stood at the top of the hill, which a moment before had stood empty.
The house appeared almost ancienct, made out of cobblestone with ivy climbing up all sides. Though beautiful, it appeared empty; dust clouding the windows, and rust covering the door knocker. Draco could sense the magic oozing from the place, but instead of unsettling him as it probably should have, it calmed him in a way that put his mind at peace as it had been before he had even started at Hogwarts.
Snape strode up to the door, and opened it with a creak. He strode inside, not looking back, but Draco followed him in anyway and shut the door quietly behind him. He stood in the entryway of the mansion, which was decorated in old tapestrys that appeared to only be held together by magic, they were so old. The primary color was a rich royal blue, and the coat of arms for the house of Ravenclaw caught his eye quite often. Draco saw that Snape had strode away, lighting torches as he went. He could see the older man's footsteps in the inchs of dust that had settled onto the worn stone floor.
"So where exactly am I?" Draco intoned, doubting that he would get a straight answer, but he was suprised.
"This was the house of Rowena Ravenclaw when she was alive. It had been passed down through the generations, occassionally a home, or a safe house during times of need. Eventually it fell into disuse until Dumbledore stumbled accross it. You see, the family had lost track of the house through the centuries, until it was entirely forgotten, which worked to our advantage. Ravenclaw's wards are still in place, which is good for us. This is where you will be staying."
"Well, then. It's better than I had thought."
'What an understatement. And I had thought he was taking me to Voldemort and having me slaughtered like an animal.' Relief flooded through Draco, although he was careful no to show it.
"So, I assume that you'll be staying here with me?" He kept his tone casual and detached, keeping the fear of abandonment out of his voice. Though it was better than his assumed fate, he did not want to be alone in this old place.
"For the time being."
"How long?"
"Until I leave."
"Oh."
And then Draco had found a bedroom he found suitable, and sunk into the mercifully cool sheets. He was alseep before he hit the pillow.
Draco allowed his head to hit the pillow and groaned. He rolled over to grab his wand on the table beside his bed.
He whispered an incantation and the tip of his wand issued a light that lit his room. He slid his body out from the sheets and pulled on his robe. He was going in search of Snape to get some more answers.
