**I sincerely hope that everyone's enjoying the story! I have so many ideas that I fear it will never come to an end. A big thank you to AchillesTheGreek for catching an error and letting me know! If anyone else spots one, don't hesitate to speak up. Anyone have any suggestions for chapters 12 and 13? Anything you'd like to see happen/not like to see happen etc.? Reviews are much appreciated. –L**

Harry awoke quite suddenly in the darkness, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

For a moment, he was unsure of what had startled him, but then he heard it again, a sharp cry from the figure curled against him.

He looked down at Malfoy, surprised to see how pale his skin looked against the black marble floor, and he saw that Draco's face was twisted into an expression of pain.

"He must be having a nightmare," Harry thought, rubbing his eyes and wondering what time it was.

He was about to reach for his shirt, which had been thrown carelessly aside the previous night, when Malfoy suddenly inhaled desperately and let out an agonizing gasp, his muscles contorting. Harry leaned over to touch his cheek.

"Draco, wake up," he whispered gently, brushing his fingers across Malfoy's forehead. "It's just a dream. Wake up."

Malfoy breathed in sharply again and then opened his eyes, looking up at Harry in confusion.

"What…w-where am I?" he asked slowly, reaching up to touch the place on his forehead where Harry's hand had been, and Harry smiled in reassurance, trying to hide the worry he felt.

"Grimmauld Place, remember?" he whispered soothingly. "It's okay, you were just having a bad dream. Everything's fine now."

Draco blinked and then quickly sat up, staring around the room intently as though half-expecting to see someone jump out of the shadows. Harry sat up as well, anxiously following Draco's gaze and reaching instinctively for his wand.

"Draco," he said in concern, "what is it?"

But the other boy let himself slump forward again, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

"No…nothing…" he finally said in a very unconvincing tone. "Bad dream…just a bad dream."

Something about the way Draco was acting told Harry that they were definitely not just dealing with a bad dream, and he reached out to touch the other boy's shoulder, but Draco pulled away, staring at his lap and avoiding Harry's gaze.

"I…I just need-"

"It's okay," Harry interrupted, suddenly remembering what it felt like to be interrogated before having the chance to process anything. "I understand. Take as much time as you need, really, but-" he glanced quickly at his watch, "I need to go downstairs for a while, okay? The Weasley's will be looking for me. They're headed out shortly for Hogwarts, and I've got to figure out a way to give them a safety lecture without them realizing that I overheard their conversation."

He was referring to the not-so-secret mission that five Order members would be carrying out today. As he and Draco had held each other under the blankets the night before, they had talked for hours, opening up to each other in ways that Harry never could have imagined. Draco had told him about the times Lucius had abused him unforgivably, and Harry had opened up to Draco about the pressure he felt being "The Chosen One," how everyone expected him to have answers that he just didn't have.

"And now Dumbledore's sick, so I won't even have him around to give me advice for a while," he had said, nuzzling in close to the comforting warmth of Draco's body.

"Wait a minute. Dumbledore's sick?" Draco had asked in concern. "How? Is he going to be okay?"

Harry had kissed his neck a few times before responding.

"He'll be fine. I don't have all of the details, but from what I heard, he should be back to his usual self by the start of term. Until then, the Order will be taking shifts at Hogwarts. It's the safest place for him to be, but he's still pretty weak, so they want to keep an eye on him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be there all day tomorrow, actually, so you can come downstairs and stretch your legs a bit."

Draco had smiled and leaned in to kiss him, and all intelligent conversation had come to an end.

Now, he put a hand on Draco's shoulder and rubbed a little. "I'll be back soon though, okay? Try to relax. I understand all about bad dreams, Draco, but just try to take some deep breaths. No one can get to you here. You're safe."

Malfoy nodded mutely, and Harry got up to dress.

"Also, Draco…" he said with a little smile. "Last night was…well, it was amazing. I just-I just wanted you to know, in case you didn't, or…you know…" He was rambling.

But Draco looked over at him with a genuine smile, resting back on his elbows and seeming to calm down a bit.

"Harry, it was the best night of my life" he said, his eyes full of something deep and wondrous. "Don't-don't worry about me. Go. I'll be fine. Bring me up some toast or something?"

"Sure," Harry said with a grin, turning toward the door.

"Breakfast, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked cheerfully, brandishing a bit of toast in front of his face, and Harry accepted gratefully.

"Thanks," he said, taking a bite. "Did you all sleep well?"

"Oh, wonderfully," Mrs. Weasley responded, "but I think we may have a ghoul in one of the upstairs rooms, because I heard strange noises a few times. I'll have Arthur check it out later."

Harry felt color slowly rising to his cheeks, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"Oh no, er, I mean don't bother…I'll save him the trouble."

"Alright, dear," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, clearing away the dishes with a flick of her wand. "I'm afraid I need to rush out, though. Arthur and I have a few…meetings to attend to." Harry tried to arrange his features into an innocent expression that wouldn't reveal the fact that he had been eavesdropping. "Can you and Ron entertain yourselves for the day?"

Harry nodded fervently.

"Sure! No problem. You go ahead."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him before reaching for her coat.

"Well, you two behave yourselves, and we'll be home sometime this evening."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her, "We'll behave ourselves, and…just…be careful. Don't-I mean…just be careful. Please."

-

"So, is he here?" Ron grunted, looking as though he'd rather not know the answer, and Harry took his time adjusting his glasses before saying, "who?" in a vague tone, even though he knew perfectly well who Ron was referring to.

"Merlin. NO, you prat, Malfoy! Who do you think?"

Harry shifted nervously.

"Yes, he's here," he admitted, becoming extremely interested in a small bit of dust on the floor and wondering if Ron had heard the same…strange...noises that Mrs. Weasley had. "Got here last night, after you all were asleep. I was going to invite him down…if you can refrain from murdering him, that is."

"I can't promise anything," Ron muttered darkly, and Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"You promised you'd cooperate," he reminded the red-head sternly. "This isn't easy for him either, you know. I mean, just because Lucius isn't nominated for father of the year-" Ron snorted loudly, but Harry pretended not to notice, "that doesn't mean that it wasn't hard for Draco to leave…"

"Draco," Ron said moodily, "I can't get used to you calling him that. It's just…ugh, it's just creepy."

"Ron," Harry began in annoyance, but Ron cut him off.

"Harry, it's just that…none of this is supposed to be happening. I'm sorry, but I swear it's messing with my head. I mean, it's all backwards now! Don't you ever think about that?"

Harry sighed.

"No," he said truthfully, "what I think about, which is a damn site more helpful than what you think, I might add, is that it was backwards before, and now it's how it's supposed to be."

There was a small moment of silence before Ron grunted in a non-committal way and shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, but don't blame me if it's awkward as all hell, Harry, because it definitely will be."

"Don't worry! It'll be fine," Harry said with a smile, heading toward the stairs to fetch Malfoy and sincerely hoping that he was right.

-

He wasn't.

"Well, this is awkward," Harry admitted bluntly about an hour and a half later, desperately trying to break the silence that hung like fog over the three of them.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Ron mumbled with a small shake of his head, and Malfoy threw Harry a glance that said quite clearly, "Stop trying to fix an unfixable situation."

Harry glared resolutely back at Malfoy and narrowed his eyes threateningly.

"Talk!" he mouthed, "Or else!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes stubbornly, but under Harry's mutinous stare, he finally turned his chair toward Ron, the loud scraping sound seeming to echo against the walls.

"That's better," Harry thought to himself. "I refuse to play baby-sitter for the rest of my bloody life."

"So, Ronald," Malfoy began with a slight smirk, "this just really hasn't been your week, huh?"

"DRACO!" Harry interjected angrily, watching Ron's expression morph into outrage. "That is NOT what I meant! Can't you at least pretend to be polite for five seconds?"

"Yes, dear," Malfoy said in a simpering voice, and Ron glared at him in disgust.

"BOTH of you!" Harry growled, feeling his frustration growing. "You're stuck with each other, so you'd better start making the best of it, because I'm already sick and tired of being the one who-"

He suddenly paused, holding his breath and straining his ears against the sound of his heart speeding up perceptively.

"Harry, wha-"

"Shh!" he hissed urgently, staring down the hallway to his left. Had he been imagining it? He couldn't have been.

Then, just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he saw the doorknob start to turn, and his blood turned to ice beneath his skin.

"Hide!" he whispered desperately to Malfoy. "Hide! Quick! Someone's here!"

-

"Mum! Dad!" Ron exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as his parents came striding into the room, and both boys heard the soft click of the closet door that Malfoy had barely managed to leap behind after Harry's warning.

"Sorry if we startled you," Mr. Weasley said, arranging himself stiffly in the nearest chair.

"Startled?" Harry said, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, "No, er, no not-not at all. Why, um, are you home so early? I thought you said you'd be out all day?"

Mr. Weasley reached for a mug of tea that lay untouched on the table and took a long sip.

"We did…we did…" he said slowly, exchanging a worried glance with Mrs. Weasley.

"Dad," Ron began cautiously, "What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mr. Weasley took another sip of tea and then stood up to face the fireplace, looking unsure of how to answer his son, and Harry felt his throat clench unpleasantly. This wasn't normal. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. Something had gone very wrong.

His pulse quickened as he wondered if someone had been killed…Lupin perhaps, or another member of the Order.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley continued, breaking Harry from his morose reverie, "there's been an attack on Hogwarts."

Harry sat straight up at looked at the Weasley's in shock, his fears confirmed.

"What?" he gaped, "How? No no no….Please, no. Is everyone alright? Tell me that no one was killed." He felt like he might pass out. How could this have happened? He was so sure that they would have taken all of the necessary precautions.

All three Weasleys were looking at him in surprise.

"Harry, how did you even know-…" Mr. Weasley began before trailing off as he put the pieces together. "Never mind. I…we…no one was killed, so just take a deep breath, okay?"

Harry's chest filled with relief at the news, and he slowly leaned back in his chair again.

"So, what happened, then?" he asked. "Was anyone even there?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a significant glance again, and Harry felt his fear returning. What now?

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat nervously.

"Dumbledore was…there, at Hogwarts, when it…happened. We were on our way to join him, which it seems you may already know, Harry, but," he paused for a split second before continuing. "But…by the time we got there, he was gone. He's been…taken, taken by You Know Who."

Harry felt a profound sense of panic rising in his throat.

"How do you know that he was taken?" he questioned, clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope. "Maybe he just…left."

Mr. Weasley sighed unhappily.

"We apprehended a Death Eater at the scene of…at…Hogwarts," she said, crossing her arms and looking down at the floor. "It was Nott. Why he was left behind we haven't the slightest idea, but he came back to the ministry with us willingly. It was the strangest thing."

She smoothed her robe nervously.

"He was more than willing to talk, which was a first, but he was given Veritaserum just in case, and it only took a minute for him to start giving up everything he knew, which wasn't much, unfortunately. He did tell us that You-Know-Who was there himself to apprehend Dumbledore, that Dumbledore had been taken to an unknown secure location but not killed, and that You Know Who was…he was…well, he was operating under the intel of…of…Draco Malfoy."

Harry quite literally stopped breathing. Bile rushed into his throat.

"How exactly do you mean?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing icily, and Harry felt his insides begin to shrink. "No, no, no," he thought with every ounce of his strength. "Not this. Anything but this."

"Well, to be honest, we haven't the foggiest," sighed Mr. Weasley in exhaustion. "No one knew about any of this. No one. No one except for the five of us who were going and, well, I guess you, Harry. How Draco Malfoy could have found out is beyond me. It just doesn't make any sense."

Harry's hands were balled into tight fists, his nails cutting into his own skin.

"How long ago?" he said between gritted teeth. "Did Nott say when this 'news' was delivered to Voldemort?"

Everyone in the room cringed instinctually at the name.

"It was just this morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, her expression confused. "Just…very early this morning, from what we can gather. Why?"

Harry couldn't answer. He couldn't think. He couldn't…he couldn't. He turned to look at the closet where Draco had hidden himself. The door was ajar. He must have found a moment to sneak away during the conversion. "What did you do, Draco?" Harry thought bitterly. "How could you do this? After everything?"

"Excuse me," he mumbled, rising from his chair. "I have to go…check on something. I'll be right back." He didn't wait for a response.

He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around slowly. It was Ron, and Harry had never seen him so angry.

"Are you happy now, Harry?" he spat, his face contorted. "You didn't listen to me, and now Dumbledore is gone. It's your fault. IT'S YOUR FAULT." He had yelled the last three words, and Harry started, taking a step backward.

"I-I know. Please, Ron. Just-"

"No more justs," Ron hissed, "You really screwed up, Harry. How could you tell him that? What's wrong with you? He was a dead man walking for god's sake. How could you think that he wouldn't offer up that that information to Voldemort to spare his own life? Jesus, Harry."

"I don't know…It wasn't like that," Harry whispered, tears suddenly expanding in his eyes. "I trusted him. I thought-…" He couldn't finish. The words wouldn't come.

Ron's face softened almost imperceptivity, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Five minutes, Harry," he said, more quietly this time. "Five minutes to get yourself together, and then you're telling Mum and Dad everything."

Harry knew, of course, that Ron was right.

"Okay," he said, his shoulders shaking in the hazy light of the stairwell. "Just let me go to his room. He won't be there, I know, but I just have to. I have to see. This just doesn't make any sense. I don't understand."

"Harry," Ron said with a grimace, "Malfoy is a soulless Death Eater just like the rest of them who ultimately has his own back and no one else's. I know what you must be feeling, but get over it. You have to find a way to make this right."

With that, Ron turned and headed back to the kitchen, and Harry mounted the stairs three at a time, finally getting to the top and bursting into the third door on the left.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw Draco sitting silhouetted against the window, his eyes fixed on Harry. His shoulders were hunched and he looked defeated.

"Come to turn me in?" he asked, making no move to escape, and suddenly, all of Harry's shock turned into red-hot anger.

He lunged at Draco, knocking him to the floor with a sharp crack and straddling his chest. He ripped his wand from his pocket and pressed it into Draco's exposed throat in a way that must have been painful.

"I trusted you," he growled, letting go of his wand and punching Draco hard in the cheek. "I trusted you, and you betrayed me! You told him about Dumbledore. How could you?" He was yelling now, and he knew that everyone downstairs could hear, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. His next punch landed right next to Draco's eye, and the other boy winced but made no attempt to move. "Why aren't you fighting back?" he screamed, punching Draco for a third time in the mouth and drawing blood. "Answer me! Tell me why, damn it. Tell me! I loved you! Fuck you, Draco! Fuck-…" his words died on his lips and he collapsed on top of Draco, no strength left in him, his chest heaving and tears rushing from his eyes.

He found himself suddenly wrapped up in Draco's arms, and he wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, to just…drift away…but, no, he reminded himself, scrambling away from the other boy. Not after what he did. Not ever again.

Draco remained absolutely still and inexplicable for an extended moment before sitting up, his heavily-bruised face leaving a sick feeling in Harry's gut.

"I wanted to get rid of my past, Harry," he said suddenly, desperation thick in his voice. "I wanted nothing more than that. I hated it. I hate it. But, just because I was through with it didn't mean it was through with me."

"God damn Malfoy and his cryptic crap," Harry thought angrily, and out loud, he found himself saying, "Spit it out, Malfoy. Come on. You just sold out the only wizard who ever had a chance against Voldemort, the only wizard who could have helped me defeat him, and now you've sentenced us both to death, so spit it out. Don't try to sugarcoat it. Tell me what you did."

Draco suddenly looked angry, which came as a surprise, and when he began to talk, his voice was harder than Harry had heard it in quite some time.

"Do you really still not get it?" he hissed. "Potter, Potter, with his never-faltering moral compass and his idea that the world gives a flying fuck about noble intentions. It's not like that! Not unless you're Harry Potter, The Chosen One, the golden boy, the underdog hero. I mean, Jesus! Everything always works out for you, doesn't it? Everyone wants you to succeed. Fuck, Harry…"

Harry rose to his feet, glaring down at Malfoy.

"Then why don't you tell me about it, Malfoy," he spat, "Tell me how it is. Tell me what could have possibly happened in the last six hours that 'forced' you to betray the one person who really loved you, who would have done anything for you? Tell me why you're doing this."

"I'm not DOING anything, Harry," cried Malfoy, suddenly cupping his face in his hands and starting to cry. "I'm not…I'm not doing anything."

"Don't give me that," Harry retorted. "Tell me the truth."

"I'm telling you the truth. I should have known that you wouldn't believe me. Just do it. Take me in. It's for the best, anyway. But, Harry, you've got it all wrong. All wrong."

"Then, tell me! Just tell me, Draco. What are you trying to say?"

There was a long pause.

"He's in my head, Harry," Draco finally whispered, his words barely audible, as if he were afraid to say them out loud. "He's in my head. It started last night, when I was sleeping, and then…all day today. I didn't tell you, because I didn't know yet if it was even real. I didn't want to upset you, and most of all, I didn't want you to shut me out, not after we had come so far, but now I see that it's the only way. He's been showing me things, making me feel things…that I can't control. He takes things too, my thoughts…anything…anything he wants, and I don't do anything! It wouldn't make a damn difference if I did. He knows we're here, Harry. He knows everything you've ever told me. He knows everything. He can't get to us…yet…but he knows. So, please, you have to stay away from me, everyone does, but especially you."

He finished with a soft sob, and Harry felt his heart shattering. How could he have been so awful? How could he have jumped to the worst case scenario like that? How come he hadn't considered the fact that Voldemort might try something like this? He looked down at Draco's broken face and fell to his knees, reaching for the other boy.

"No, H-Harry, don't touch me," Draco cried, pulling away. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco fiercely, pressing his face into the side of Draco's neck. "God, Draco," he whispered. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Draco stopped resisting and cupped Harry's face, his eyes moist and clear. "You're the life of my life, Harry," he said, leaning in to kiss Harry's lips for the briefest of moments before pulling away, "but you're not safe with me. I-I…you should…go, while I pack up my things."

"Don't be an idiot, Draco," Harry said with a little smile. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. We WILL figure this out. Together."

Suddenly they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and they both spun around to see all three Weasleys standing in the open door watching them.

Mr. Weasley took a few steps forward, looking at them both with an unreadable expression.

"It looks like we all have a lot to talk about," he said.