Chapter 10

"Draco?" Harry was on the floor next to Draco's limp form, shaking him gently.

The Hogwarts kitchens started to spin. Harry groaned and held his head. He guessed Draco Malfoy wasn't the only one who had had too much to drink.

He wanted to get Malfoy to his room but he had no idea what he was talking about. And looking at Draco, he wouldn't be any help any time soon. He tried to come up with alternatives. He could take him to the Gryffindor dormitories, but waking up with a Slytherin in your bed was not a common occurrence. There would be talk. He could take him to the hospital wing, but he suspected there would be hell to pay for getting drunk in the kitchens in the early hours of the morning. Plus, Malfoy had asked him not to leave. Was that the drink talking? Or did he really need Harry around? Maybe the dreams were worse than Draco made them seem. Harry knew the last one that he had described to Malfoy had been somewhat tame compared with some of the others. Maybe the warmth they felt while they were awake would somehow translate into their sleeping state. Maybe.

Harry decided to take Malfoy into the Slytherin dungeons and by that time, maybe he would be awake enough to direct Harry where to go. It was a long shot, but then again, Harry's whole life had been a long shot. Harry took out his wand. "Levicorpus" he said, and Draco's unconscious body rose into the air. Harry had a sick feeling in his stomach, like he was a puppet master over an unwilling victim. Or maybe it was all that whiskey.

Using his wand, he maneuvered Draco out of the kitchens, up the staircase, and out into the entrance hall. He turned the both of them down the stone steps leading to the dungeons.

Malfoy's head lolled sickeningly with each step. Harry tried his best to keep him steady, but it wasn't easy. It was hard enough to keep himself steady. Turning a corner, Harry felt his foot slip.

Draco hadn't meant to drink so much. He really hadn't. He knew he must have passed out, because there would be no way he fell asleep on his own. In front of Harry Potter, no less. Also, there was the fact that he was dreaming again. He was in a dark forest, the full moon peeking out in between the high branches. He knew it wasn't just any forest; the creeping feeling up his spine told him it was the Forbidden Forest.

His feet moved of his own accord, as if he had no control, taking him deeper into the woods. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped under his steps. The small sounds felt deafening and terrifying. Lately, his dreams were centered around Malfoy Manor. Dreaming of that place felt alright, it was his home, after all. But being in a place that truly terrified him was another thing altogether.

He tripped on a high root and went sprawling, scraping his chin and his palms on the forest floor. He groaned, rolling onto his back. He was suddenly on his feet and walking again, aware of some rustling noises just in front of him. He willed his feet to stop, but they wouldn't listen. He came upon a rocky ridge. He climbed to the top and found himself looking down into a small gully. There was a figure there, hooded and hunched over. The thing below it was white; it sparkled in the moonlight. Draco knew what it was. He had seen the same thing his first year at Hogwarts on detention with Harry. He wanted to do what he did then: run away, screaming. His feet, however, had other ideas.

He stepped closer to the figure, sliding down the steep bank into the gully. He could hear obscene sucking noises coming from the figure. His stomach lurched. The figure turned toward him, its face covered in shadow. He knew who it was without having to see. It rose, only slightly, so that Draco could see what it had been feasting on. Instead of a unicorn it was Harry's body, his torso ripped open, dark blood spilling between the roots and underbrush. It shone, beautiful and dark, in the moonlight. Harry's glasses were gone, Draco's incoherent thoughts coalescing into a single one: he had to find Harry's glasses. Then he heard the Dark Lord's hissing voice.

"This bothers you so, Draco. Why?"

Draco's feet had finally stopped. He had never been so grateful in his life. He set his face to stone and hoped his voice would follow suit.

"It doesn't. Just a bad memory."

"A bad memory?" The Dark Lord sounded offended. "Why, it is the first time we ever met, isn't it? Shouldn't that be a good memory?"

"I was eleven. I didn't know yet, my Lord."

"Ah, yes, to be young." The Dark Lord went back to slurping up the remains of Harry Potter.

Draco cleared his throat and tried to find some courage, deep inside of him, afraid he would still come up short. "I thought you wanted Potter alive, my Lord."

The slurping ceased. "You, boy, are not allowed to know my plans." Draco's heart froze in his chest. It was not the Dark Lord's voice, but another's.

The figure stood, slowly turning and lowering the hood. Lucius Malfoy's long blonde hair and pointed features emerged from the darkness. Draco took a step backwards, slipping on a rock and falling hard on his backside. "F-Father" he mumbled.

Harry was falling down the winding stone steps. He heard the clatter before he knew he had dropped his wand, and Draco fell with him. Harry wrapped his arms around the unconscious Slytherin, trying to protect his prone form from the worst of the bumps and falls. They both landed at the bottom of the staircase with a thump.

Harry groaned. The taller boy had landed on top of him. Malfoy sure didn't look as heavy as he felt. Through his drunken stupor, Harry realized the peculiar warming sensation was gone. He should've been feeling it times one hundred, Draco's entire body splayed out over his, their faces cheek to cheek. He only felt the comforting weight of a solid body on top of his.

He didn't hear the footsteps until they were right on top of him, near his head. He craned his neck and an upside down Professor Snape filled his field of vision. Even in the low light of the dungeons, Harry could tell how angry he was.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?" Snape could give Draco a run for his money with the way he spit out Harry's name.

"Ah, um.. Well, you see.."

Snape muttered a spell and Draco was on his feet, a puppet once again. Harry got slowly to his feet, the hallway threatening to send him spinning, like he had just gotten off a merry-go-round that had been spinning entirely too fast for its own good. He held a hand to his stomach. He looked at Draco and noticed scrapes and bruises had appeared on his face and hands. He was sure he had protected him during the fall down the stairs.

"Explain. Now."

Harry was brought back to reality. Why did Snape have to ruin everything?

"Dr- Malfoy was unconscious. He asked me to bring him to his room, so I brought him down here. Sir."

Snape leaned forward, too close to Harry's face. Harry backed up and hit the stone wall. Snape retreated and did the same to Malfoy.

"You've been drinking", the Potions Master said snidely. "I could deduct a fair amount of points for this..offense." He seemed to watch Harry's face for a reaction. Harry gave none. "I demand to know what you two were doing."

Harry crossed his arms. "It's none of your business, Professor." He hoped he wasn't slurring his words too much.

Snape looked irate. He opened his mouth to retort when Draco moaned in his sleep. His head lolled side to side as if he was fighting something off. Small scratches were appearing on Draco's face, right before their eyes. Harry turned to Snape, his eyes wide and disbelieving. Without a word, Snape turned and rushed down the corridor, Puppet-Draco following behind. Harry rushed to keep up. The Potions Master stopped at a blank wall, tapped the bricks in a Diagon Alley fashion and a doorway appeared. Harry's mouth fell open. Snape laid Draco on top of his bed. The tall Slytherin moved in his sleep, murmuring unintelligible words. Draco's cuts became deeper, blood was beginning to drip down towards the pillow.

"Do something!" Harry yelled at Snape. Snape looked at him as if he had forgotten he was even there.

"What did Mr. Malfoy tell you about this?" Snape demanded instead.

"Next to nothing," Harry said hurriedly, "but it needs to stop."

Snape regarded Harry with an air of annoyance. "Indeed, Potter. He will wake if it is too much to handle."

"Even if he's had too much to drink? What if he's unable to? Can't we just wake him up?"

Snape scoffed as if Harry had no idea what he was talking about. Harry really did have no idea, he just knew something needed to be done. "We cannot. It could cause serious damage to his psyche, his magical abilities, even his mind. It's not worth the risk."

Deep cuts were now appearing on Draco's forearms.

"Potter. You must do as I say. No questions."

"I'm not leaving."

Snape exhaled forcefully. "Conjure a patronus. The stronger the better."

"How is that going to-"

"I said no questions. Do it."

Harry took a breath and backed up from the bedside. He had an iron grip on his wand in front of him. He wasn't sure how great his patronus was going to be, as inebriated as he was. The recent events had sobered him a little, but he still felt unsteady on his feet and a bit sick to his stomach. He thought of becoming a wizard, his parents, flying on a broom. "Expecto patronum!" a silvery light came out of the end of his wand, and fizzled.

"Again!" Snape said, his voice tight.

Draco's father was advancing on him, his face a mask of ill-contained rage. His walking stick was in one hand. Draco couldn't help but eye it. If he took it apart, that was when the trouble would start. He tried to crawl backwards but found his back up against a large rock face. He swore it wasn't there a minute ago.

"How could you do this to me, Draco?" His father's voice was quiet, just above a whisper, at its most dangerous.

Lucius Malfoy kept advancing, slowly, menacingly.

"No heirs? The end of the Malfoy line?"

Draco found his footing and got slowly to his feet. "Things change, Father."

"Indeed they do, Draco. Indeed they do." His father gripped his cane with two hands and removed his wand, a soft metallic hiss escaping like someone unsheathing a sword. Draco knew the sound too well. "Think of what the Dark Lord would say, keeping Potter for yourself." His father made a tsking sound while shaking his head. "What are you going to do now, Draco? Switch sides? Be good?" His voice was mocking. "We both know that was never in the cards for you. I know who you really are. Who you're meant to be. You are, and will always be, my son. A Malfoy."

Lucius raised his wand and Draco knew what was coming next. He managed to flick his fingers upwards and produce a shield charm with both hands just as his father said, "Crucio." The spell bounced off. Lucius Malfoy's face showed only rage.

The next thing Draco knew he was running. Running as fast he could through the Forbidden Forest. Branches slapped and cut his face as he ran. He ignored it, his only mission to get out, to leave the Dark Lord and his father behind him.

Something suddenly struck him from the side, sending him sprawling. He sat up holding his ribs, desperately seeking the culprit. No hooded figures. His father was nowhere in sight. He scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his side. A massive branch swept at him again, he ducked under it. Another Whomping Willow? The huge sentient tree was suddenly in front of him. He tried to run around it but slender roots rose up around his ankles, pinning him. Vines shot out of the giant tree trunk and laced themselves around his wrists, slithering up his arms like snakes. The more he struggled the more they cut into his flesh. The vines were razor sharp; he could feel his hot blood begin to flow, trickling down his arms.

Harry pushed his annoyance with Snape and fear for Draco out of his mind. He closed his eyes and focused. He thought of their time in the kitchens. He thought of Malfoy confiding in him. The way their knees touched while they talked about Quidditch, of all things. The warmth. The kiss. This time a fully-fledged stag appeared from the end of Harry's wand, the silvery light bathing the room. He thought he saw Snape flinch at the sight of it.

The giant stag seemed to know just what to do. It walked slowly and smoothly around Draco's bedside, Snape nearly tripping over his robes to get out of its way. The stag stopped at the head of the bed. Harry watched in wonder as his stag bent its head, touching Draco's forehead with its muzzle.

Immediately Draco stilled, the injuries ceased. Snape and Harry both let out a breath they hadn't realized they were holding. Harry dropped to his knees, feeling entirely spent.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. He willed himself to wake up. He focused on the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, hoping it would wake him, not knowing what would happen to him in real life if it didn't. He could see a bright light behind his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes. A silvery glowing stag was in front of him. The razor-vines were suddenly gone, as was the Willow. The forest seemed still and serene. Draco's heart leaped into his throat. This time, he knew without a doubt whose patronus it was. The stag snorted and stepped closer. Draco held out his hand and the stag came.

Harry's stag nuzzled Draco's face, his hands going up to stroke its powerful neck. He was surprised he could touch it. Even in dreams, corporeal patronuses were unheard of. The stag lowered its great head and touched Draco's forearms. He gasped as the cuts vanished along with the pain.

Snape stared at Harry. Was it awe that Harry saw in his face? Or something else, like fear? Whatever it was, it was hardly important. Harry crept closer to Draco's bedside, opposite his stag. He inhaled sharply when Draco's many cuts faded before his eyes and then vanished altogether.

"Professor Snape," Harry called. "It's working."

Snape still had that weird expression on his face. He didn't get too close to Harry or the stag as he inspected Draco. "So it seems," the potions master said quietly, "I need you to stay here. Keep the patronus with him."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, but the wall was already changing from a slammed door to a wall again. No doubt Snape was running off to tell someone, but who? Dumbledore? Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. He was still fuzzy from the alcohol and all he wanted to do was sleep. But if he fell asleep, what would happen to his stag? What would happen to Malfoy?

Harry figured he didn't want to find out. He wondered what Malfoy had been through in the dream and if he himself would be destined for a similar fate. He shuddered.

He checked on Draco once more. The cuts and gashes had all but healed, some blood on the sheets the only indication there was ever a problem in the first place. Even Draco's face looked better, healthier, more handsome. The dark circles were gone from his eyes and his cheeks held a pink tint.

He sat at the foot of the bed with his wand on his lap, watching Draco's chest rise and fall with deep rhythmic breaths.