Disclaimer: I own nothing.


CHAPTER EIGHT

Harry slumped to the ground, muscles weakened beyond the point of control, his head spinning crazily. He gasped, tried to push himself up, but the wizard – now, his attacker – intoned another wordless spell. Pain shot through Harry's skull, similar to that of a careless Legilimens, but different somehow. Sharper. More focused.

"What – what are you doing?" Harry panted, forcing the words past his lips. Even that was difficult. "I thought… thought you wanted… to help."

"I am helping!" the wizard replied harshly. His words sounded unnaturally loud to Harry, as if he was hearing them from two places at once. Perhaps he was.

The wizard continued. "The only way you'll be safe is if you accept their story. This way you won't question anything! And they won't have a reason to come after you too."

Harry wished his muddled brain could better comprehend what he was hearing, for future reference more than anything, but whatever the other man was doing, or rather, what he was trying to do, drew all of his attention.

As he'd told Draco several days earlier, his Occlumency had never reached a point Harry felt comfortable with. Oh, it had improved since he was fifteen, of course, but never to the level Harry desired.

"Harry," Hermione had said quietly a few years ago, following a rigorous testing of his newfound obsession. "It's not like Voldemort is coming back. Who else would be trying to perform Legilimency on you? I don't understand why you want to do this now. I mean, considering you didn't…"

"I didn't do it when he was still around?" Harry had finished for her. Hermione had flushed, but nodded affirmatively. After glancing away, pondering how to best answer her question, Harry had finally decided he couldn't. At least not in one of two concise sentences. "It's just something I have to do, Hermione," he'd finished softly.

And here he was, years later, faced with the very situation Harry had once dreaded enough to employ learning the techniques of his enemies.

"No…" Harry gasped, feeling the tendrils of another mind wrapping their way forcibly around his. He poured every ounce of strength into throwing the foreign presence out, but nothing seemed to be working. It felt like he wasn't struggling at all. But if this wizard wasn't a Legilimens, then what the hell was he doing?

"It's alright. Just relax. It doesn't hurt, what I'm doing. You're just fighting too much" the man said, tone nearly soothing. Only it wasn't, because it rang so loudly Harry could feel his eardrums vibrating with pain.

"Nearly there," the loud voice whispered. Inside his head? Outside? Harry wasn't sure anymore. "Have to position everything correctly, before it can be finished. Almost there –"

Harry cried out as his mind was abruptly freed from the other's presence, collapsing fully to the ground. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to quell the crushing pain in his skull, pushing it forcibly to the back of his mind where it could be dealt with later. Only once he felt able to breathe again did he become aware of the sounds of struggle nearby.

Snapping instantly to survival mode, Harry grabbed his wand and rolled quickly to his stomach, not sure he'd be able to stand just yet. On his stomach, however, he could have a full view of what was happening, and not witness it all upside down. His eyes widened at what they found.

Draco, who had lain limply on the ground and allowed Harry to pummel his face not more than a couple weeks ago – had it only been that long? – was currently rolling in the grass with the other wizard, punching, kicking, and struggling for all he was worth. His face was bright red, eyes blazing, and a smear of blood streaked across one of his cheeks. The other wizard, who'd apparently charmed his hood to cover his face no matter what, struggled just as violently. He also kept trying to reach for something a few feet away. It took Harry little time to realize it was his wand.

"Accio wand," Harry said quickly, catching the wand as it flew instantly to his hand. "Malfoy! Get away from him! I've got his wand."

It seemed Draco didn't hear him at first, but then he managed to gain the upper hand and smash his knee into the wizard's groin, sending a crunching blow to his face simultaneously. Moving quickly, he rolled away.

As soon as Draco was clear, Harry wordlessly bound the other wizard, watching with satisfaction as his struggles became futile against the magical bands of rope circling his limbs. He glanced around, seeing that they'd drawn a few distant spectators to the brawl, but no one appeared interested enough to have risked wondering very close. Good thing. He looked to Draco next.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Draco nodded, still half-sitting on the ground and breathing hard.

Harry got to his feet very slowly. Still weak and dizzy from whatever spells had been cast on him, he moved to the wizard's side and looked down.

"Care to explain what just happened?" Harry said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded.

The man whimpered. "You don't understand," he breathed. "I'm trying to help you! Please, listen to me. Please."

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm done listening. The binding spell I cast will wear off in a few minutes. My companion and I will be gone by then. But if you ever come near me again, I will give you to the Ministry. Do you understand?"

The wizard looked away briefly, and back to Harry, shaking his own head slowly. "I really wish you would have listened…" And then he disappeared.

Harry started, staring in shock at the now empty spot on the ground. He realized, after a moment, that Draco was standing beside him.

"I thought you got his wand," Draco said.

"I did," Harry murmured. The pain in his head was growing again, gnawing its way out from where Harry had hidden it. "He must have come with two… crazy bastard." He rubbed his hand over his eyes and briefly wondered why fireflies were out at this time of the day.

"Potter?" Draco's voice, alarmed, sounded distant, the very opposite of a few minutes ago. "Potter, I can't –"

Sights and sounds faded to nothingness as Harry lost consciousness. He was barely aware of Draco's arms holding him as he fell, once again, to the grass below.


"Shit, shit, shit!" Draco muttered fiercely. "Potter!" He lightly slapped Harry's cheek. When there was no response, he slapped a bit harder. Harry's eyes twitched beneath the lids, but he showed no other signs of waking. Draco cursed loudly.

It had taken him a minute or two to realize what was happening, as far away as the bench had been, but Draco had barely even stopped to think. He was sprinting across the park before he knew it, paying little attention to the curious, and vaguely suspicious, glances he drew from Muggles along the way. As he'd drawn closer, it was obvious Harry was under attack, practically disabled it seemed, and Draco had tackled the offending wizard, dropping them both to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs and flying fists.

"Potter," Draco hissed. "Potter, wake the fuck up! Rennervate!"

Harry's eyes twitched again.

"Hey, is he alright?"

Draco started violently, snapping his head up to see a concerned Muggle woman inching her way closer. Her step faltered a bit as she met Draco's gaze.

"Um, I saw you and that other man fighting over here," she said tentatively. She looked around, presumably for the missing man. "Is your friend alright there? Do you want me to call the police? Or maybe an ambulance?"

Draco blinked at her. He had absolutely no idea what she'd just asked, but he did know he did not need anyone else, especially some useless Muggles, getting involved.

"No, no, he's fine," Draco answered quickly, flashing a hopefully convincing smile. "He gets overexcited, you see. Faints easily. He'll come around in a few minutes."

The Muggle nodded knowingly. "Ah, alright. I have a girlfriend that does that. Of course, her's is because of low blood-sugar." She indicated Harry. "You might suggest he see a doctor about that. Wouldn't want him falling off the tracks down in the Tube now, would you."

"Right," Draco said, feeling slightly bemused. Shifting a bit, he managed to palm Harry's wand and cast a quick lightening charm. "I'd better be getting him home."

The woman continued to stare for a moment and Draco nearly rolled his eyes in annoyance. Didn't Muggles understand a dismissal when they heard one?

"Thanks for your concern." Draco smiled again, allowing just a bit of his annoyance to creep through.

That apparently did the trick, because she smiled in turn and waved a quick goodbye before heading off in the opposite direction. Draco shook his head.

Pulling Harry into a sitting position, Draco swung one of his arms around his shoulders and slowly stood. Even considerably lighter, he reckoned Harry had to weigh at least half a ton.

"Christ, Potter," Draco grunted, "I think you need to lay off the biscuits…"

Harry's head lolled onto Draco's shoulder in response.

Now that the Muggle had left, and it didn't seem any more were planning to bother them, Draco felt the edges of panic creeping back in on his consciousness. Hadn't he warned Harry something like this would happen? But no, the stupid idiot had smiled and assured him everything would be fine.

Obviously.

Draco swallowed nervously. They had to get out of the open. He didn't know how long Harry's glamours would last, although Draco could re-cast them when the time came, but in the brief minutes in-between they would be both recognizable. And that simply wasn't an option.

Practically dragging Harry, Draco moved slowly towards the lonely looking alleyway across the street. The shops on either side were closed, so Draco decided if he could hide them from view of the street, they'd be fine, at least for awhile.

Wand tucked inside his sleeve, Draco cast a Disillusionment charm on the both of them, and then Muffiato to make sure no one could hear them shuffling by. After what seemed like an eternity, they made it to the alley where Draco immediately collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. He dragged Harry behind a foul-smelling metal bin – he presumed it was for rubbish – and leaned against the wall beside him.

"Potter?" he tried. There was no response.

Draco leaned his head back and stared at the opposite wall. Every so often he glanced at Harry, hoping to see signs of stirring, but as the minutes pressed on, that seemed less and less likely. What if he was really hurt? Draco had no idea what spell, or curse, the other wizard had cast on Harry. Even if he did, Draco considered, he probably knew more magic for causing harm than curing it anyway.

"This is fucking brilliant, Potter," Draco muttered, not caring that he was, in essence, talking to himself. "First I end up rescuing your arse, for a change, and then you faint like some prissy girl. Now we're stuck in some nasty smelling alleyway in the middle of London. Fucking great…"

Harry made a soft noise from where he lay. Draco recognized it immediately as being borne of pain, and his stomach clenched. Aware his hands were shaking slightly, he gently maneuvered Harry's head onto his lap, hoping it would ease whatever it was he was suffering. Stroking his fingers gently over Harry's temple, Draco could feel the insistent, stubbornly beating pulse beneath. He found it oddly comforting.

"You're lucky, you know," Draco said softly. He traced lightly over Harry's lightning-bolt scar, usually hidden beneath his fringe of messy hair. "You've always had people there to comfort you, watch out for you… even if you didn't always know it…" He sighed quietly. "My family was never exactly nurturing… you could say. Suppose that's why I was such a monumental brat – had to assert my authority over somebody. Greg and Vince…" Draco trailed off, hearing Vincent's screams echo in his memory. He cleared his throat. "I suppose that's why I hated you so much. You never even noticed me… and then you did. Only it was too late… I don't hate you now, though…"

Harry groaned again, shifting a bit on Draco's lap. And then his eyes slowly opened.


Harry stared up at Draco, not sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

"You're awake," Draco said, staring back. Harry nodded vaguely; his head felt like a bludger had been rampaging through it recently.

He'd woken a few minutes ago, long enough to hear Draco's quiet monologue, to hear his voice break when he mentioned Crabbe and Goyle, and long enough to hear him say he didn't hate Harry…

"Are you alright?"

Harry blinked, swallowed a couple times, and nodded again. "Yeah, I think so." He then became aware that Draco's hand was resting on the side of his face. Draco, apparently realizing the same thing, jerked the offending limb back and looked away, face darkening with a deep flush.

Sitting up slowly, Harry glanced around, not terribly surprised they weren't in the park anymore, but not entirely sure where they were either. He looked back at Draco, who seemed determined not to meet his eyes.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "Abandoned alley, across the street. I figured it was better than leaving you sprawled out in the park." He sounded vaguely defensive, though Harry didn't know why. "What did he do to you anyway?"

Now there was an uncomfortable question. Truthfully, Harry had no idea. Whatever is was he'd been trying to do, it hadn't worked. At least, he didn't think it had.

"I don't know," Harry answered. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, peering closely at Draco. There was a raw-looking scrape across one of his cheek-bones, a blossoming bruise forming on his chin. "That was quite a brawl you got yourself in."

The flush creeping up Draco's cheeks grew brighter. "What else was I supposed to do?" he snapped. "It's not like I have a wand."

Harry frowned. He hadn't meant to sound admonishing. "I know," he said softly. "But you helped my anyway. Thank you, Malfoy. You probably saved my life."

Draco's eyes widened considerably as he looked up and, for just a moment, Harry witnessed a bit of the same vulnerability he'd heard in Draco's voice just a few minutes before. But only for a moment, and then the shuttered mask was back in place.

"Don't be so dramatic, Potter," Draco scoffed, though it sounded a bit weak to Harry's ears. "I did no such thing."

Harry bit his lip, holding back his reply for another time. He glanced around again as something else occurred to him.

"Wait a minute, why didn't you just Apparate us back to Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked, confused. "It would've been a hell of a lot easier than dragging me all the way over here."

Draco crossed his arms and tucked his chin against his chest, eyes lowered to the ground.

"Because I can't," he muttered.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Harry frowned. "Surely you learned how to Apparate. We had lessons sixth year… or did you miss them all?"

Draco snorted. "Don't be daft. Of course I learned how to Apparate, Potter. It's… more complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Fuck, Potter!" Draco jerked his head up, glaring. "It's because of Azkaban, alright?"

Harry still didn't know what he was getting at. The confusion must have shown on his face.

"Don't you understand anything about magic?" Draco snapped.

"Er… understand what… exactly?"

Draco groaned. "Magic has to be done continuously, Potter," he continued, looking and sounding rather strained. "What witch or wizard do you know that doesn't perform at least a dozen or more spells a day? If you don't do it for a long time, you," he paused, taking a breath. "You get weak, alright. Seeing as I went… Even with a wand, I'm little better than a Squib right now. So go on. Feel free to gloat!"

Sirius had been weak, Harry remembered; physically, mentally, perhaps magically, as well. After all, in the months following his escape, he hadn't even transfigured his clothing into something decent, hadn't used a cleansing spell to wash his filthy hair. At the time, Harry had figured those things had simply fallen beneath his radar, as far as priorities went. But maybe not. Maybe he'd simply been too weak to do all he needed.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't know that."

Draco snorted again. Just as he turned away, Harry thought his glare might have receded a bit.

"It'll get better, eventually." Draco said softly.

Harry nodded as he got to his feet. "Good," he said. He hoped Draco could hear the honesty in his voice. "That's good."


"So was that our only outing for the day?" Draco joked as he stood, only half-heartedly though; he couldn't seem to erase the expression on Harry's face from his mind, even as Harry flashed him a wry grin.

"Amazingly enough," he answered, "even I have only a limited number of amazing feats of heroics per day. Oh, yeah, I need my wand back, if you don't mind."

Draco rolled his eyes at the polite request. Had he been in Harry's place – oh, wait, he had been – he would've demanded his wand back the moment he was awake. And then Harry raised his wand toward him, and Draco couldn't help the involuntary flinch that followed.

Harry's arm lowered slightly. "Sorry," he said, frowning slowly. "I was going to heal the scrape on your face… Do you not want me to…?" His voice trailed off questioningly.

"No, that's fine." Draco felt his face heating, once again, with a flush. He stared at Harry's jaw as he intoned a quick healing charm; the cool, slippery feeling of the curative magic contrasted greatly with the otherwise heat of his face. "Thanks," he muttered, once Harry had finished.

Harry nodded distractedly. "I think the glamours are starting to fade." He glanced around, probably looking for wandering Muggle eyes. "We should go."

As loathe as Draco was to continue his close proximity with Harry at the moment, he had little choice but to take hold of Harry's arm, closing his eyes as he felt the nauseating tug of Apparition snatching them out of the alley. The moment solid floorboards were underneath his feet, he stepped away, nearly backing himself into the wall. Harry gave him a strange look as he dropped both their glamours.

"Are you sure you didn't get hit with something, Malfoy? You seem twitchier than usual."

Draco sneered weakly at the insult, unable to explain the slight betrayal he felt at Harry's words. Apparently their brief moment of peace was over, now that they were back on safe ground. "Yeah, well, you seem uglier than normal, Potter. Oh wait, that's because you took your glamour off, isn't it."

Harry, maddeningly, just gave him another look. Shaking his head, he muttered something about the kitchen before disappearing down the stairs near the end of the hall.

Draco chewed on his lower lip, debating whether to follow him or not. Weasley didn't seem to be around – thank Merlin for that – so the library would be unoccupied, and Harry hadn't exactly invited him along either… But he was obviously in pain, weakened from whatever spell he'd been hit with – Draco knew that with pain and weakness came vulnerability. And those who were vulnerable could be so easily manipulated, exploited, used…

Draco swallowed hard, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

"Hey, Malfoy?" Harry's voice drifted up from the basement, seemingly on cue to taunt him. "I'm making lunch. If you're hungry." A moment later. "Do you know where Ron put those pain potions he bought yesterday?"

Draco's stomach lurched and he could feel his hands trembling slightly. Pain potions could be altered in a number of simple ways – simple, yet devastating. Add one ingredient, it became an instant poison. Add another, it bent the user's will just so, just enough to ensnare his or her mind, ensure the slight shifting of free will.

And Draco could do it so easily…

"Malfoy?"

Ignoring hearing his name called once more, Draco practically fled up the stairs and to his room, slamming the door behind him with a loud thud. He slid to the floor, curling his knees up to his chest, and buried his face in his arms, shaking bodily now.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he whispered.


The heavy iron door swung lazily open, admitting a thin stream of artificial light into the cell. From where he lay huddled in the corner, Draco raised an arm in a feeble attempt to shield his eyes. He moaned softly as the door opened wider and the light intensified.

"Well, well, little Malfoy. Not feeling so cheeky today, are we?"

Draco fought to even his breaths as the bearer of that leering tone bent over him, grinning broadly.

"You haven't answered me." A rough hand grabbed a handful of Draco's hair, yanking him forcefully upwards. Draco let out an aborted cry, body screaming in protest, silenced as he was slammed backwards into the wall. The breath left his lungs in a painful whoosh. When he could finally breathe again, he whimpered.

The face leaned close to his, hot, putrid breath making him want to wretch.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" the breath blew moistly against Draco's fever-hot skin. "But I figure three days is long enough to mull things over. Even for someone stupid as you." Closer still. "You want the pain to stop, don't you, Malfoy? I can make it stop. You know I can. Or… I can make it worse. But that's up to you. So what do you say, Malfoy? Do you want the pain to stop?"

Draco closed his eyes briefly. Very slowly, he reopened them, shivering.

"Yes," he whispered. "Please…"


TBC