Disclaimer: All recognizable (and copyrighted) characters and plots belong to their respectful owners. I'm just taking them out for a walk.

A/N: So, so sorry that this chapter is so late. I've been so stressed out from college that I haven't really had time for any else. I'm withdrawing from a class to lighten my work load and stress, so maybe I'll be able to squeeze in some time for this and my other fics now.

If this chapter seems to end abruptly, it's because this one was getting too long, and I cut off a section from here to use for chapter 12.

Also, a shout out to all of my wonderful reviewers and watchers: you guys are a dream come true, I swear. Sorry this took such a long time.

Chapter 11: Rivendell

They didn't finish their tale until lunch, and by then the four of them were completely exhausted. Slumped in his seat, Ron was nearly asleep, and Hermione was leaning heavily on his shoulder, blinking owlishly. Draco's eyes were closed and he looked so still that Harry thought he was sleeping, but occasionally the Slytherin would contribute to the story, proving he was at least partially awake. As for himself, Harry could feel his eyelids drooping, even as he wrapped up their story, and was so relieved when Elrond told them to go and rest that he nearly hugged him. Restraining himself, Harry dragged himself to one of the four separate chambers where large double beds encircled by gauzy silver curtains waited. He bid Hermione and Ron goodnight, as it were, and Strider threw a blanket over Draco before leaving with Elrond, promising to return after the four had rested up.

The beds were comfortable, the sheets cool and the blankets feather-soft, so Harry was hardly surprised when he woke up midmorning the next day, having slept through the rest of the afternoon and night. Washing his face in a basin of water provided by a window, he stumbled out into the main room and found more plates of food and pitchers of water had been provided, and that Draco was already tucking in for breakfast, face hidden by a book.

"Mornin'." Harry dropped into the seat across from Draco and pulled a plate of food close, tucking in with relish, suddenly starving. Draco hummed a greeting.

After a few quiet moments Draco closed the book, "Interesting, what you all were reading back home in The Room of Requirement." Draco peered over his goblet of water to gauge Harry's reaction and found that he was still just groggy enough that his defenses weren't up yet. Now or never. "Wasn't for class was it?"

Harry shot him a look.

Draco shrugged and nibbled on a crust of bread. He hadn't had much of an appetite since he'd gotten the Dark Mark, "Just asking." There was a pause and then. "Strider was here earlier. Gandalf's going to drop by later to speak with us, and probably Lord Elrond later. He's got messages or something to send out."

Mouth half-full of food, Harry asked, "Wha's he sendin' mess'ges for?"

Draco shot him a narrow look, "He's sending out warnings to his fellow elves about your atrocious table manners. Swallow would you?" Harry glared, but Draco continued, "There's war brewing here Potter. That little trinket Frodo's got could spell big trouble if it falls into the wrong hands…" Draco shot Harry a look and pointed at the book, "It's all here, well, most of it. From what I've gathered you all know more about it. Or at least Granger does, since you and Weasley are completely illiterate."

Harry bristled, "I do read you know, Malfoy. I'm even willing to be I've read more in that book than you have."

"Having had the finished version, I should hope so." Draco replied dryly, "How's it end then, if you're so well-read?"

"With the defeat of the Dark Lord here, but things might not work out that way now, so I'd keep my mouth shut about it if I were…" Harry, not a morning person and having realized what he'd revealed to Draco, frowned at him and leaned back in his chair, not sure what Draco would do with this information. On the one hand, it was only a history book, and might not mean anything to him. Harry wouldn't think anything of it, were the roles reversed, but he wasn't Draco and with things the way they were back home, he might just be clever (or Slytherin) enough, to put two and two together.

Draco glanced at Harry's annoyed expression and mentally ran over the conversation, having not expected Harry to reveal something so quickly. Then again, subtly wasn't exactly Potter's strong point and Draco had been up for an hour or so, mentally practicing how he might steer the conversation with Harry or Weasley or Granger, or all three. Granger was tricky, smart as she was, and Weasley could have random bursts of intuition and strategy that had served him well in the past. Harry, being temperamental, was of course the obvious choice to wheedle information from, but still, even Potter had his moments, and Draco had wanted to be prepared. Apparently all he'd needed to do was catch Harry when he was stuffing his face.

Pinning the moment in his mind, Draco rolled his eyes. "Is that what you all were doing?"

Harry feigned ignorance. "What?"

"Researching Dark Lords? Is that all?" Draco clicked his tongue and went back to his breakfast, "You were all acting as though it was some big secret…"

Harry shot upright in his chair, "Wait, who else-?!"

"Keep your knickers on, that's not what I meant. Rub a few brain cells together, and look at it from everyone else's perspective: you're The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One… The…" Draco paused, "Er, what were the other ones? You cycle through those nicknames so fast it's a wonder The Prophet hasn't run out of them. Anyway, everyone sort of expects you to be doing research on He Who Must Not Be Named. I thought you all were actually up to something." He went back to his breakfast.

Harry inwardly sighed, relieved, but took a large bite out of a portion of cheese before Draco could read the expression on his face. Harry wasn't exactly pleased that Draco had figured out what they were doing in The Room of Requirement, and so quickly, but he'd admit he was happy Draco hadn't caught on to their suspicion of him. Well, Harry's suspicion of him, but now that they were so far away from home Harry was less concerned that Draco could act out whatever mission Voldemort had him on. Of course, that wouldn't stop The Dark Lord from getting some other Death Eater's kid to do it, but Harry couldn't worry about that now. He could only worry about getting home safely.

Harry, wrapped up in his food and thoughts, didn't catch the equally relieved expression on Draco's face, though the Slytherin masked it much more gracefully than Harry had his. It wouldn't do for Potter to question his sudden disinterest. Draco'd noticed Harry's piqued interest in him, and was not stupid enough to think that The Golden Boy was just keeping an eye on his rival. It was clear enough to Draco that he'd seen something he shouldn't have and at the worst possible time too. Draco had enough going on, worrying about his family and trying to get Snape to mind his own bloody business that he didn't need the added concern of having the worst possible person find out what he was up to. It didn't matter now though, being so far from home. While he hadn't forgotten the mission, or the danger his parents were in, he knew he couldn't exactly fulfill The Dark Lord's orders while he was here, and Draco felt all the better for it.

Both boys were dragged from their thoughts by Hermione and Ron coming into the room, both looking disheveled and groggy, but refreshed. "Good morning," Hermione called, sitting down next to Harry.

"What's for breakfast?" Ron seated himself on Harry's other side and immediately pulled a plate in close, heaping it with bread, cheese, fruit and other assortments.

Hermione, seeing Draco with the book, frowned but didn't say anything, instead tucking into her own plate with a contemplative expression on her face. Breakfast went quietly, and just as they finished a knock came at the door and Strider entered with Gandalf, who smiled at them.

"You all will be pleased to know," he started, seating himself stiffly next to Hermione, "that you are now free to wander Rivendell at your leisure." He pulled out a pipe and prepared to smoke it, but gave Hermione a second glance and asked, "May I?"

"Oh, certainly."

"Thank you." He set about lighting his pipe and, after taking a drag, continued, "After much deliberation Lord Elrond and I have come to the conclusion that you all aren't a threat, and are, as you say, lost."

"So you know how we got here?" Harry asked.

He shook his head and Strider answered. "We are not certain, though we suspect The Dark Lord's influence."

"Though, that is the least of your concerns, at least for now. Your timing is most unfortunate. Middle Earth is on the brink of destruction and Sauron is at the height of his power… though I suspect you all are already aware of this?" Hermione nodded, but didn't elaborate. Gandalf nodded. "It's wise of you to hold your tongue, at least in these matters. If others were to discover your origin they would demand to know all that you know… and things of this sort are tricky. I would recommend you not share what you know with anyone, not even me, and let things go their course. Particularly, at The Council."

"Council?"

"Lord Elrond has called a council meeting to decide what is to be done with The Ring, and what is to be done about you four." Strider answered. "You are to attend, but tell no one, not even the Hobbits. This is not a meeting for prying eyes or ears."

"Few know who you are, and the fewer aware of you the better. Sauron has brought you all here for a reason, but it seems he has misplaced you. Whatever his intentions, it is unlikely he wished you to fall into the hands of the elves." He took another puff of his pipe and then spoke again, voice raspy, "It is clear enough to me that, while you are young Istari, your powers are quite different than mine, and while not inherently evil there is always potential." Draco shifted uncomfortably under Gandalf's gaze and avoided eye contact. "You tell us that there is a Dark Lord threatening your world?"

Harry nodded, "His name's Voldemort," everyone ignored Draco and Ron's flinching.

Gandalf nodded, "And he's returning to power?"

"Oh he's back." Ron corrected. "He's got all his old supporters with him again. As far as we know, he's preparing for war."

"Hmm." Gandalf frowned, looking distant, but didn't elaborate

Hermione looked at Strider. "When is The Council?"

"You'll be told when to attend. For now, we are to await the arrival of The Council members, and their kin. Many of them have a far distance to travel, such as the elves of Mirkwood, and the dwarves from The Lonely Mountain. It is a long and dangerous road from Erebor and Mirkwood and it may be many weeks before The Council meets." He smiled at them, "I would heartily recommend the four of you replenish your strength and enjoy all that Rivendell has to offer." Strider threw open the doors to their chambers and stepped aside, allowing the sunlight to pour in.

"Where's Frodo?' Hermione immediately asked. "I've been worried sick…"

Strider grinned "He is reuniting with his uncle, though he has promised to visit with you four later. In the meantime, you may prefer to see the training grounds, or the library?"

Hermione lit up like a Christmas tree. "Library?"

Strider smiled. "Elrond's collection of tomes is vast, Hermione, collected from all regions of Middle Earth… I have had a lifetime to read the books in his collection and have yet to make any headway."

Gandalf, snapping out of his reverie and catching the blissful expression on Hermione's face, chuckled, "I would be honored to take you on a tour, young Hermione, if you would permit me." She nodded brightly and the two of them stood and made their way out of the room as Gandalf whispered conspiratorially to Hermione: "Lord Elrond keeps all his favorite reading tucked away in a hidden alcove…"

Strider smiled after them and turned to Ron and Harry, "Shall I show you the training grounds then? Young masters Brandybuck and Took are already there…"

Harry was about to agree when he happened to glance back, and caught a glimpse of Draco, sitting alone and flipping through a book Hermione had left abandoned on the table. Draco was usually good at hiding his emotions, but now? Draco looked lonely and forlorn, already resigned to his fate of being abandoned by the only people he knew in this whole world. And Harry, for all the desire he had to see Draco just as miserable as he'd made Harry and his friends, it suddenly felt wrong to just leave him there, after everything they'd been through together. A glance at Ron confirmed that he felt the same way, as the redhead was looking uncomfortably from Draco to Harry.

Strider followed their gaze and nodded in comprehension, "Of course, we must wait for Master Locien to heal" Draco looked at Ron and Harry in surprise, but they avoided meeting his eyes. "Another time then." Strider clapped the boys on the shoulders in farewell and grinned at them amicably. Harry felt a pang, right in the pit of his stomach, but Strider seemed not to have noticed and turned to leave with a nod.

That grin, that broad, happy grin, reminded Harry so much of Sirius it was nearly painful to see. Strider didn't grin nearly as much as Sirius had, and he usually looked rugged and exhausted from sleepless nights and rough cross country travel, but when he smiled his face lit up with warmth and Harry felt safe. Just like he had with Sirius; it hadn't yet been long enough that Harry had forgotten that empty, painful pit in his stomach and he hardly wanted to reminder of his dead godfather nearby all the time. It was just too much…

Ron, either not noticing Harry's distress or trying to change the topic, clapped him on the shoulder and rose from the table and over to a large cabinet set against a far wall. Pulling the doors open, he muttered, "I wonder what they've got to do around- Aha!"

Both Draco and Harry glanced up and found Ron pulling a large, ornate chess set from the cabinet, the pieces shined and delicately carved from stones. He set it on the table and arranged the pieces, putting them back in order after they'd slid around from his jostling. "So it's not wizard's chess, but it'll do. C'mon Harry."

Harry shook his head, "Oh no, you win every time. I'll play you after I see how bad Malfoy is."

Draco, at being addressed, blinked, glanced up and frowned, catching the insult, but didn't take the bait. "I've heard about Weasley's games. Bloody brutal, they are. I'll sit here and mock your failure instead Potter."

"Gee, thanks…"

The game, as Draco had predicted, was brutal, and had somehow turned into a three-way game, Draco and Harry against Ron, who beat them spectacularly because the two couldn't agree on what moves to make. The next game was just as bad, and the third worse, if possible. When Ron suggested putting money on it, due to his winning streak, things turned absolutely vicious and Draco pulled a win right out of nowhere with a smug look on his face, splitting his winnings with Harry fifty-fifty, and further cementing Harry's suspicion that his family was a long line of talented gamblers and maintained their fortune through poker. They spent the next week this way, sitting quietly at a window and struggling to one-up-one another in chess. The hobbits would watch over dinner, and applaud the victor, and occasionally Strider or Gandalf would make an appearance and join in a game or two, though Strider preferred to watch the complicated maneuverings from a distance and no one liked to play Gandalf, as he nearly always won, no matter who he played.

When Draco's ankle was healed and he was allowed to limp around Rivendell, Ron and Harry immediately dragged him off to the blacksmith, eager to see what sort of weapons there were. They ooh-ed and ah-ed over the polished swords and bows and arrows, and Draco sighed in thinly veiled patience, finding the weapons useless, as his wand worked just fine. He'd drag them off the first opportunity he got and they'd mutter and complain to one another as Draco forced them to try and eavesdrop on as many conversations as possible, trying to find out the goings on of Rivendell and more information on the upcoming Council meeting. At night they'd play chess some more, and Hermione would curl up in a chair in the corner and hum contentedly as she read whatever book she'd borrowed from Elrond's study, ignoring the boys lighthearted bickering.

Hermione never played for a reason, besides that she could never remember what pieces did what and she hated being reminded that she had no talent for the game. She preferred to watch, from a safe distance, as the three boys bonded. Yes, bonded. It was strange, she'd admit, to see Draco there, included and accepted by Harry and Ron. No, Draco wasn't their new best friend, and Hermione hardly expected Draco to invite them to eat at the Slytherin table when they got home, but things were the best they'd ever been, and Hermione had a feeling her presence would only remind them of their familiar tension. As far as Hermione knew, to Draco she was still a mudblood, and whether or not his opinion of her had shifted in the least, Harry and Ron hadn't forgotten the insults. Her suddenly sitting with them, talking and joking with Draco, would remind them of every insult he'd levied against her. That tension would come back, and someone would sense it and lash out. Arguments would break out again, and before long everything would go back to normal. Hermione didn't miss fighting with Draco. After a while Ron and Harry might look up and wonder what happened and just when they'd accepted Draco into their good graces, but Hermione was leaving it alone. She was happy here with the books Lord Elrond had allowed her to borrow, writing notes and making copies to take back to Hogwarts. It was enough to see her friends happy that Hermione was content to let them bond while she sat in the background and read. It felt natural.