The last twenty-four hours, the last day before the break-in, was the most strained ever between the five of them.

Hermione would barely talk to any of them, only to reiterate directions and plans. She followed Griphook around all day, much to his annoyance, desperately trying to wring out any additional details or words of advice.

Harry tried not to think about it, just moved out of Hermione's way when he needed to and spoke with both Ron and Draco in absent conversations.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, despite the general uneasiness.

There was one moment, however, that Harry strongly wished he could take back: it had happened right before lunch, as Draco and Harry sat aimlessly in their bedroom, the Sword of Gryffindor propped up right beside the bed. They had decided to bring it with them, in case they had to destroy the Horcrux then and there. Harry was sitting right beside it, watching the sun glint of its blade, when Griphook had unexpectedly opened the door.

On instinct, Harry's fingers had immediately curled around the hilt, and Griphook's beady eyes had zeroed in on the movement. Griphook met his gaze coldly as Harry slowly let go of the sword and Draco had cleared his throat, saying something about double-checking things as Harry watched Griphook for any sense of accusation. It went by without comment, but Harry could tell his reflexive motion would not be forgotten.

Ron and Draco seemed to be the most affected, something Harry supposed made a fair amount of sense. After all, they were the ones that had grown up hearing the legends of Gringotts's impenetrability, and the horror stories of those who had tried to challenge it.

And now, they had become those thieves so detached from any expectation that any of them had ever held from themselves. It was unsettling, to say the least.

But the day passed, far too quickly and too slowly, and it was now time, by the light of the early morning, to make the final preparations.

Ron's Glamour was up first: his magic would undoubtedly hold the longest, and since Polyjuice ran on an hourly schedule, Draco and Hermione would not transform until the last second in order to buy them as much time as possible before they would have to discreetly take another swallow from the flasks now affixed somewhere in their clothing.

"Remember—I don't like the beard too long—" Ron was saying as Hermione led him into her bedroom, where she had Conjured a mirror to stand against a wall.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't about looking handsome…"

Harry laughed and shook his head as the door shut behind them, turning back to Draco, who was standing silently next to him in the hallway.

His laughter died as he saw Draco holding the glass vial he had gotten from Clearwater. He was holding it at eye-level but far from his face, as if scared to contaminate himself with it. His expression was one of wary distaste, inspecting the contents of the vial with pursed lips and dread in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked weakly, and Draco blinked and tore his gaze away from the potion.

"No," Draco sighed, shaking his head and pocketing the vial. "Not really."

"Okay," Harry replied. "Well."

He moved next to Draco and wrapped one arm around his waist, pulling the boy closer to him.

"Just looking like him doesn't mean you are him," Harry said hesitantly, and Draco grimaced.

"I know," he replied quickly, shaking his head again before relaxing against Harry. "I know…"

Harry was about to say something else, but Hermione's bedroom door burst open unexpectedly and Ron (or, rather, a hairy and foreign stranger) stepped confidently out, stopping short at the sight of Harry and Draco practically hugging in front of him.

Harry had a quick and guilty urge to remove his arm, but he tightened it instead, silently reassuring Draco.

"Oh," Ron said thickly. "Right…um…h—how do I look?"

Harry reluctantly withdrew from Draco to inspect Ron closer.

"You couldn't recognize him, right?" Hermione asked anxiously, appearing at Ron's side.

"Well, I could," Harry answered, scanning his eyes over Ron's transformed face. "But that's because I know it's him, and I've lived with him for seven years."

"I don't think I'd be able to," Draco put in helpfully, stepping up as well. "The hair is a completely different texture and color—that's really quite impressive, Hermione—the freckles are gone, the nose is changed, and the eyes are…did you change the bone structure around the eyes?"

Hermione flushed and nodded. "I know it can be dangerous, but I wanted to be convincing."

"It is convincing," Harry reassured her, and she smiled. "Could fool anyone."

"Good," Ron replied, nodding satisfactorily. "Do I get to do my accent now?"

"I suppose you better get in the habit," Hermione answered. "But remember—you don't speak unless spoken to, over-doing it could rouse suspicion."

"I know, I know," Ron waved her concern off.

"I want to hear this accent," Draco said, sounding faintly amused. Harry looked at him warningly.

Ron didn't seem to notice, just cleared his throat and shook his long auburn hair out of his face.

"My name," Ron announced dramatically, his voice dark and heavy, "is Dragomir Despard."

Draco bit his lip to contain the laughter, but Hermione had to physically block her mouth with her hand to hold it in.

Harry, the best out of all of them at keeping a straight face, nodded seriously. "Alright, good choice. Now…er, just remember what Hermione said about not speaking too much. Um. If at all."

Ron rolled his eyes and Draco lost it first, bursting into laughter about a second before Hermione.

"It's foreign!" Ron defended, crossing his arms. "It doesn't sound like me!"

"It doesn't sound like anyone, mate," Harry told him grimly, while Draco and Hermione laughed harder.

"Hermione!" Ron whined, and Hermione sobered immediately, fighting back her laughter.

"I'm sorry, Ron, it's fine, it really is, it just—the way you said it was a bit dramatic. And we're not used to it."

"It's fine?" Ron asked earnestly, and Hermione nodded.

"Of course it's fine. Just be careful."

Ron nodded, and Hermione squeezed his arm in encouragement.

Draco was still giggling, coming to rest his head on Harry's shoulder to hide it from Ron.

"Shh," Harry shushed him discreetly, twisting his mouth so he wouldn't smile.

"Sorry," Draco gasped in between giggles, and Harry stepped on his foot to try and silence him.

Draco gave a yelp of pain and swatted Harry on the nose.

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed, jumping back. "Did you just swat me?"

"You stepped on my foot!"

"You swatted me!"

"Oh, calm down, Potter."

"Like a cat!"

Ron and Hermione were laughing now, Hermione shaking her head as well.

"And here I thought your couple fights would be just shy of catastrophic," she said. "I was wrong, apparently."

They were all still laughing freely as Griphook suddenly appeared, silencing everyone as he cleared his throat.

"I'm glad to see such high spirits on a day of such thievery," he said coldly, and any trace of merriment was wiped from the faces of all.

"We're sorry," Hermione apologized. "The stress…it has all of our hormones out of balance."

The other three nodded fervently, and Griphook looked barely satisfied.

"I do believe it is time for Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger to take their respective potions?" he said, and Draco exhaled shakily. Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed it, marveling at the now instinctive urge to do so.

Ron moved to stand beside Harry as Draco followed Hermione into her bedroom, both of them looking distinctly unsettled.

"You think we'll pull this one off, too?" Ron muttered to Harry, his eyes on the door.

"Why wouldn't we?" Harry replied, casing Ron to snort.

"You have the Cloak ready, Mr. Potter?" Griphook asked, and Harry turned away from Ron to nod.

"It's just right there," Harry added, pointing to a slightly translucent heap of fabric on the floor beside him.

"On the floor?" Griphook questioned distastefully, and Harry exhaled sharply, willing himself not to lose his temper.

"It's fine, it's just—"

The door opened again, and the shock of the sight before him wiped any argument with Griphook from his mind.

There, in the doorway, with an expression of disgust clear on both of their faces, were Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, looking for all the world as if they had just stepped out of a meeting with Voldemort.

Harry had to take a deep breath and force himself to remember that they were not, in fact, Death Eaters sworn to kill him, but Draco and Hermione, two people he loved and didn't want dead.

"Damn," Ron breathed beside him, sounding not at all pleased.

"She tasted absolutely horrid," Hermione said, and it was another shock to Harry's system to hear Bellatrix's voice, heady and low, on top of the slight inflection of Hermione's tone that Harry could just barely pick up on. "Worse than Gurdyroots."

She walked awkwardly over to Ron, standing closer to him than perhaps what he thought was comfortable.

"Did…did you Transfigure the clothes?" Ron asked politely, gesturing to Hermione's black and rather gothic attire.

"As best I could from memory," Hermione responded, shaking her head again as another wild curl fell in front of her eyes. "Honestly, and I thought my hair was bad…"

"It's just the way she insists on wearing it," Draco commented, Lucius's voice much lower and colder than his own. He moved to stand beside Harry, who found himself quietly but desperately searching for any trace of Draco in his father's face.

"Convincing, right?" Draco asked him dully, smiling grimly.

"Yeah," Harry breathed, tearing his sight away from Lucius's eyes. It was strange, but seeing the steely eyes show Draco's raw emotions was only making Harry feel more anxious—it was if Draco was trapped inside some evil entity—

Harry shook himself from his thoughts. He was fine. It was just a potion. He really should be focusing on the indomitable fortress they were about to rob.

"You have your purse?" he asked Hermione, not looking at her.

"Yes," he heard her reply, "It's in my…well. I have it."

Ron spluttered somewhere behind them while Draco barked a laugh.

"Always did love Auntie Bella," he murmured jokingly to Harry, who shuddered at Lucius's voice.

"Shall we go, then?" Griphook asked them, and they fell silent.

Looking around at each other, they each tried to quietly gather some semblance of strength or courage from the all but strangers staring back at them. As a result, Harry found himself fixed with the eyes of a pureblood foreign ambassador, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy, all looking at him almost pleadingly.

"We'll be alright," he assured the group, trying his hardest for a moment to visualize his friends in front of him.

And for a moment, it worked.

Bellatrix's eyes seemed to brighten and warm, her hair lightening and softening. Dragomir's gaze was not quite so brooding, and the middle age seemed to slip away from him to give way to a younger soul. Harry could recognize affection and love in Lucius's eyes that he was so used to from Draco, and he smiled more encouragingly at all of them.

Griphook cleared his throat, and just like that, the moment was shattered. They all turned to him, regaining their personas, and Harry went to retrieve the Cloak.

Griphook nodded curtly at all of them and began to walk down the hall, the rest of them following.


By now, Draco had to admit, they were just stalling.

They had double-checked that they did, in fact, have everything three separate times since they'd been outside, and Griphook was beginning to get visibly irritated.

He watched as Hermione tried to compose herself into Bellatrix, Draco having given her pointers the day before. She straightened her posture and walked in the almost impractical boots with an attempt at an aristocratic grace, and Draco had to admire her determination.

She kept her expression cold and slightly manic, as per her past impressions of the woman. Draco watched her now as she stared at Bellatrix's wand, watching it almost fearfully.

He then looked at Harry, who was attempting to illustrate to Griphook how to sit on his back, the position they would have to hold until they could take off the Invisibility Cloak.

Ron was off the side, muttering to himself, no doubt practicing his accent.

If you fuck this up because of that accent, Weasley, I'm going to kill you, Draco thought tiredly as he moved over to help Harry and Griphook.

"Thanks," Harry huffed in response, handing Draco the Cloak as Griphook climbed indelicately onto Harry's back.

"Comfortable?" Harry asked Griphook, and only Draco detected the note of sarcasm in Harry's question.

"It will suffice," the goblin answered, and Harry rolled his eyes, apparently confident in the knowledge that Griphook wouldn't notice.

Draco smirked and threw the Cloak over them both, making sure all parts were completely covered.

"Perfect," Bellatrix's voice sounded in his ear unexpectedly and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "I can't see a thing."

He forced a smile. "I think that should do it, then. Are we ready?"

Hermione's satisfied smile disappeared and she nodded somberly. "I am. Ron?"

Ron nodded as well, coming to stand closer to Draco, Hermione, and an invisible Harry and Griphook.

"Onwards," Draco drawled, forcing himself into the mindset of his father.


They decided to Apparate to the same spot that Draco and Harry had originally arrived at, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn't be too noticed.

It was a cloudy morning in London. Definitely in keeping with the theme of the day, Draco thought, keeping his head held high as he fell into step behind Bellatrix, Ron as 'Dragomir' trailing somewhat behind him.

Harry, Draco assumed, was right next to his friend, but any footsteps he might could hear were drowned out by the impressive and intimidating clack of Bellatrix's shoes, something Draco admitted would ultimately be a good thing.

No one dares to question a woman in loud shoes, his mother had once told him, as her and his father readied themselves for a Ministry ball. Especially if she walks confidently in them.

Thanks, ma, he thought wryly, and then focused his attention back on the task at hand. He couldn't afford any nervous distractions.

The Leaky Cauldron was almost empty, much to their luck. Tom looked up from the counter and stilled upon the sight of who had entered, but quickly bowed his head in a stiff and contempt greeting.

"Madame Lestrange," he muttered. "Master Malfoy."

Draco barely nodded, just as his father would have done, and made to continue, but froze upon hearing Hermione speak.

"Good morning," she said, and Tom's head yanked back up again, startled.

"Quite," Draco said, trying to cover as he increased the group's pace.

He bent down to whisper in Hermione's ear just as they were out of sight. "Way too polite. Be a stone-cold bitch, will you?"

"Alright, alright," she whispered back, haughtily shaking Bellatrix's hair out of her face.

She drew Bellatrix's wand and tapped the bricks in front of them, standing back as the archway to Diagon Alley formed.

They stepped through, glancing around at the few people populating the streets. Draco hadn't expected much change from the last time he and Harry were there, but one change soon became fairly evident, stopping them all in their tracks.

Harry's face, scaled and blown up on posters, glared down at them from boarded-up shop windows, lamp posts, and official Ministry banners hung from roofs. Captioned under it were the words 'Undesirable No. 1'.

"Fuck," Draco breathed, not allowing himself to glance back at an invisible Harry, but felt a vicarious anger and fear pierce through him all the same. "Come on, we've got to keep moving."

"That's not good," Hermione whispered, even as she resumed her stride, and Draco shook his head.

"No, it's not."

They couldn't have walked more than twenty steps when they heard a voice call out in greeting that made Draco's blood run cold.

"Why, Madame Lestrange! And Malfoy!"

The three visible members of their party turned to see Travers, one of the more intellectually ruthless Death Eaters, walking towards them.

Hermione obviously didn't recognize him, however, because her cold and demanding "and what do you want", while magnificently in character, was never how she would address him.

Travers stopped short, looking highly affronted.

"I merely sought to greet you," Travers said coldly, straightening up. "but if my presence is not welcome…"

"Of course not," Draco cut in smoothly, inclining his head towards the man, intending to try and flatter him. "It's been...ah…a difficult morning."

"That it has," Hermione suddenly agreed, shaking her head. "This vile crawling on the streets—trying to harass me, offend me! Just the sight of them—absolutely ruins one's day."

Draco only barely refrained from raising his eyebrows in surprise. Ron coughed behind them, but Travers paid him no mind.

"Quite," Travers replied, nodding his sympathy. "I had just the same problem, the other day…but I must confess, I am surprised to see both you and Lucius out and about like this."

"Oh?" Hermione replied. "Why would that be?"

"Well," Travers began delicately, "I had heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the…ahem, the escape."

Draco inhaled, his panic fighting with an inappropriate surge of pride at the mention of what had happened. His panic won out in the end, and he fought to keep his composure.

Fuck. Is that true? Fuck.

He was trying wildly to think of a cover, but then—

"The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past," Hermione replied coolly, and Draco almost applauded her. "Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers."

Travers visibly swallowed. "But whose wand are you using? I heard that your own was—"

"I have my wand here," Hermione cut in, her voice turning more and more to ice with each word. "I don't know what rumors you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed."

Travers just stared at her, obviously trying to keep his composure. He looked offended, but blessedly, less suspicious.

"I should introduce you to our friend," Draco said, hoping to leave Travers on amicable ground. He turned back to Ron and swept an arm out to indicate him. Ron dutifully stepped forward. "His name is Dragomir Despard. He does not speak much English, but he is very interested in the Dark Lord's plans for the Wizarding World. He has traveled from Transylvania to hear what we have to say."

"Indeed?" asked Travers, sounding politely interested. "How do you do, Dragomir?"

"'Ow you?" said Ron, holding out his hand. Travers did not seem remotely fazed by the accent as he shook Ron's hand, and both him and Hermione (and probably Harry too—god, Draco hated not being able to see him) breathed a sigh of relief.

"Any chance you all might be visiting Gringotts?" Travers asked, and Draco, simply put, panicked.

"Are you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Travers looked at him, confused. "Yes…"

Draco exhaled, struck with a sudden idea. It was bold, and risky, but if it worked…

He looked over his shoulder at the general spot of where he thought Harry could be, hoping beyond hope Harry could understand him.

"Any chance we could change your mind?" Draco asked pointedly, feeling somewhat foolish, though the question was not directed to Travers.

"Lucius," Hermione warned, looking at him like he had lost his mind. "Surely you must be—"

"Actually," Travers interrupted her, looking suddenly dazed. "Did I say…what did I say? My mother is expecting me elsewhere…it was nice talking…good day!"

And he walked off.

Hermione blinked several times before Draco motioned for them all to keep moving.

"I just Imperiused him," came Harry's slightly astounded voice in his ear. "I've never done that before."

Draco bit back a smile. "I love you for it," he whispered back, not allowing his expression to change.

"For that? And honestly, that's not at all as heartwarming when it comes from your father."

"I know," Draco answered dryly, before Hermione shot them both a warning look. He sped up to walk with her again.

Finally, they turned a corner and arrived at the bottom of the stairs that led up to their target—the slightly slanted but still imposing marble building that read GRINGOTTS at the top.

They allowed themselves a momentary pause before climbing them, noting warily the change in security that Griphook had told them about.

Two wizards flanked either side of the entrance, staring at them as they ascended, though Draco could easily detect the intimidation in both their faces. They held long golden rods that Draco knew were called Probity Probes: magical detection devices.

There was no way that any of their visible party could Confund them or enchant them discreetly, especially without the mastery of wandless or nonverbal magic. Draco breathed in and wondered if it was possible to get some sort of telepathic connection with Harry.

Just in time, he heard a faintly whispered "Confundo! Confundo!" from somewhere on his left.

Thank you, Harry, Draco said to himself, smirking slightly.

They reached the top and barely glanced at the guards. Hermione acted like she was about to go through un-accosted when one guard stopped her.

"One moment, madam," he said gruffly, raising the Probe.

"But you've just done that!" she protested, and he blinked down at her, and then at his Probe.

"Yeah, you've just checked them, Marius," said his partner, looked dazed but sure.

Hermione swept forward without any other comment, leaving the rest of them to haughtily follow her.

Draco knew the entrance hall of Gringotts well. Up until his eleventh birthday, he was required to wait for his father with a goblin in the hall, since he was not old enough to accompany his father down to their vault.

He would still make Draco come with him, however, if for no other reason than to impress upon his son the importance of wealth and status in their society. Draco always fervently believed him.

Now he faced the long marble hall with a sense of resentment: even though he knew it was not the bank's fault for his biased upbringing, he could not help but feel a touch of victory along with his guilt.

He looked to his right where Hermione was strutting confidently down the hall. For all her supposed superior air, he could see her eyes darting back and forth down the row of goblins, most of which paid them no mind, but some stared shamelessly.

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes forward as he let Hermione approach an old goblin at the end of the row, who was examining a gold coin through a thick pair of spectacles.

He didn't seem to notice her as she stepped up to the podium, and it was only when she cleared her throat threateningly that the goblin jumped and looked up at her, his eyes immediately going wide.

"Madame Lestrange!" he exclaimed, quickly tossing the coin aside. "Dear me! Apologies…how—how may I help you today?"

Draco tried not to show the confusion on his face as worry gathered in his gut. Hermione looked appeased—she assumed the goblin's stammering was due to her impressive standing, but Draco knew that goblins were rarely fazed by the prestige of wizards. Something about Hermione had upset the goblin's composure—and that couldn't be good.

"I wish to enter my vault," Hermione replied, her voice ringing out down the quiet hall.

The goblin hesitated, and Draco snuck a glance down the hall. It seemed almost all of the other goblins in the long row had ceased in their work to watch this exchange.

Oh no.

"You have…identification?" asked the goblin.

Draco swallowed. His father had never been asked for identification. Extra security measures aside, they must have been warned. They knew.

He just barely looked over his shoulder, trying to subtly indicate to Harry and Griphook that something was wrong.

"Identification?" Hermione repeated, her contemptuous voice blank. "I—I have never been asked for identification before!"

The goblin looked apologetic and unsure, but he held out a slightly shaking hand anyway. "Your wand will do, madam."

Her wand. They knew it had been stolen.

Acting on instinct, Draco stepped in front of Hermione, feigning indignation.

"This is ridiculous," he snarled. "Let us pass this instant! The Dark Lord does not wait for identification."

"We are not asking the Dark Lord for identification, Mr. Malfoy," the goblin replied. "We are asking Madame Lestrange."

Hermione harrumphed and shook Bellatrix's hair once more. Draco cast another furtive glance over his shoulder as Hermione held out her wand.

The goblin took it and examined it closely, a look on surprise on his face. "Ah," he exclaimed, "I see you have had a new wand made, Madame Lestrange!"

Hermione blinked. "No—"

"Yes," Draco cut in, enormously relieved Harry had seemed to get the hint. He wondered what spell was on him—Confundo or the Imperius Curse? "The Dark Lord rewards his most faithful servants."

"As I have always said," Hermione replied, catching on. "Are we allowed to proceed now?"

The old goblin nodded and clapped once, a younger goblin immediately appearing at his side.

"I shall need the Clankers," he said, and the younger goblin nodded and departed, retuning a moment later with a leather bag that made a metallic clanking sound when it was moved. The tool was aptly named.

The old goblin nodded in satisfaction. "Good! If you will follow me, Madame Lestrange, and Mister Malfoy, I shall take you to the vault."

He walked towards them, drawing even more attention to them as the Clankers jangled at his hip.

"Wait—Bogrod! If this is regarding the Lestranges' vault—" a goblin at the end of the hall piped up, and Draco froze.

But Bogrod waved him off. "No need…this is a special case…very old family…"

And he led them through the end of the hall, through a door and into a dark stone passageway.

The door shut behind them and Draco breathed a sigh of relief, unsure of what they should do.

He turned around and jumped as Harry suddenly appeared, Griphook hopping off of him and going immediately to the goblin.

"Is he Imperiused?" Hermione whispered, pointing to Bogrod.

"Yes," Harry replied, "but I don't think we're in the clear yet."

"They definitely suspect us," Draco agreed. "We caught the attention of many."

"So why aren't they attacking us?" Ron asked, looking nervously towards the heavy door that separated them from the main hall.

"They don't have enough information yet," Draco replied.

"They want to have the upper hand at all times," Griphook added. "They won't try and apprehend you outright—usually, they'll either let Gringott's defenses do their work for them or they'll try and trap you."

"Lovely," Ron replied dryly. "So do we…leave? Get out now, while we still can?"

"If we can," Hermione replied anxiously.

"I say we go on," Harry said. "We've gotten this far—"

"—Which isn't very far," Griphook interjected, but Harry ignored him.

"—and this is the only chance we'll get. There's no way to…duplicate this."

"Seconded," Draco responded, smiling briefly at Harry to try and quell his own uneasiness.

"We need to move," Griphook said, moving towards the tracks and the cart that would take them down into the vaults. "Are we all in agreement?"

They all nodded resolutely.

"Good. We need Bogrod to control the cart. Everyone—get in! Quickly!" Griphook instructed, and they all obliged as fast as they could.

"I think he needs another Imperius," Hermione observed worriedly. Draco sighed.

"I'll do it," he offered, drawing his wand.

"I'm perfectly able to—" Harry began to protest, but Draco cut him off quickly.

"Harry, that's not even your wand. On the grounds of how magic works alone, I'm better equipped to deal with this than you." He almost snapped this, casting the curse quickly and effectively.

Harry blinked, and Draco realized with a slightly cold feeling that he hadn't really snapped at Harry like that—not seriously, not since they'd been together—and was suddenly terrified as to how Harry would react.

But just before the cart jerked away, yanking them off into the twisting tunnels and hallways of Gringotts, Draco saw Harry smile.


The ride was twisting, terrifying and exhilarating, but at least it was stable. Harry held on to the Cloak for dear life, scared it was liable to fly from his fingers.

They descended further into the darkness, the whirring of their cart really the only sound that echoed around the stone underground. They all strained to hear any noises of shouting, of attacking, but it seemed that either the goblins were no longer suspicious, or they were lying low. Harry wasn't exactly sure which to expect.

As if in answer, the cart cut sharply left all of a sudden, as if departing from a normal route. Harry barely had time to register the change before Hermione shrieked as they all saw what lay ahead: a raging waterfall, pouring insistently over the tracks. Harry looked frantically around to see if there was another track he could try and spell the cart onto: but not only would that be inordinately dangerous, it seemed this track was the only one in sight.

"No!" Griphook snarled, apparently also realizing there was no way around it, and within seconds their cart plunged through the water.

The water completely soaked Harry—for some reason, he had expected the water to not be so much like…water. It was obviously enchanted, and past the crushing second-long suffocation that they were in the waterfall, it was clear what it had done.

For a split second they all stared around at each other, eyes frozen in fear. Griphook, Bogrod and Harry remained unchanged, just damper than usual, but Ron, Hermione and Draco were again no more than teenagers in costume.

And then, without warning, they were launched from the cart.

Hermione's scream pierced the air, coupled with Ron's shout, and Hermione screamed something else, a spell of some sort, as they plummeted. Harry caught sight of the ground and had the absurd urge to yell something like "look out", but Hermione's spell took effect and Harry stopped falling. Instead, he seemed to be floating down to the stone ground, and a quick look around him told him everyone else was experiencing the same thing.

His feet touched the ground as he was let down gently, and saw Draco land right in front of him, staggering a bit as he felt gravity return to him.

Seeing him there, returned to Draco and completely unharmed, filled Harry with an almost overwhelming sense of relief. Not caring in that moment if it was an overreaction, or inappropriate, he rushed at him, pulling him into a hug and holding the soaking wet and slightly shivering boy against him.

"You're okay," he breathed, and heard Draco laugh shakily as he hugged him back.

"Relatively."

"We're just grand," came Ron's slightly irritated voice, and Harry drew back, a bit sheepish.

"We need to move," Griphook urged. "That was the Thief's Downfall. As you have probably guessed, it wipes away all magical enchantments and concealment—they know we are imposters!"

Harry found one hand still clutching the Cloak and he thrust it under his jacket.

"H—Harry Potter—" Bogrod spoke suddenly, sounding shocked, and they all whirled around to face the wide-eyed old goblin.

"It's lifted the curse!" Ron said, and Draco automatically lifted his wand, casting the Imperius without hesitation. Harry wouldn't admit it out loud, but he felt a bit relieved he no longer had to cast any Unforgivables. It didn't feel right with his magic—like he either wouldn't be able to effectively or…be much too extreme.

Bogrod's face was wiped of expression and he went to retrieve the Clankers that had fallen with them.

"Can you hear that?" Hermione's voice spoke up, higher than normal and sounding scared. They all quieted, trying to hear signs of other people.

Harry heard it first—a lone shout echoing off the walls, followed by a faint and hurried conversation, the words impossible to make out.

"Someone's coming!" Griphook hissed, and Hermione immediately raised her wand, pointing it at the area above them.

"Portego!" she cried, the shield charm flying up to protect them.

"Where even is the vault?" Ron asked, turning urgently to Griphook.

"Not far, fortunately," came his reply, and the goblin took off at a run. "Follow me! And bring Bogrod!"

Draco pointed his wand at the old goblin and the five of them sprinted behind Griphook as he led the way through the darkness.

"Harry," Ron called out.

"Yeah?"

"How—how are we getting out?"

Harry shook his head. "We'll worry about that later."

"Great," Ron panted.

They turned a corner and saw the 'protection' that Griphook had warned them about—but they found themselves unprepared at the sight of it.

Even crouching as it was, the dragon was gigantic. It was stretched along at least five doors, and its tail curled in front of it, tucking into its body. Its wings were folded firmly against its sides, and it seemed to be cowering before the noise that Bogrod was now making with the Clankers.

"That's sick," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide with disgust as she stared up at the dragon and its blind eyes, pale and fleshy scales, underused wings, chains holding it to the ground. She shook her head at the whimpered roars it was making in protest to the noise. "I don't want to scare it."

"Neither do I," Harry assured her, taking a noise-making metal rod from Bogrod even as he said it. "But we're not going to hurt it. This is what we have to do."

She sighed and took her instrument, earning a sympathetic glance from Ron, who then moved closer to her.

"You know what to do," Griphook told them, moving towards the dragon and shaking the Clanker. "It's the middle door, right where its back leg is. It'll retreat, just don't stop making noise."

They obediently moved forward, making as much noise as possible, letting Bogrod go first so he could open the door to the vault.

"I'm the first in, remember?" Draco said, moving to the front of the group. Harry immediately caught his arm, fighting down the flare of panic. After all, they were all in immediate danger anyway.

Draco, Hermione and Griphook had already worked out the countercurse to what they desperately hoped were Gemino and Flagrante Curses, the spells that Draco had heard Bellatrix talking about in a meeting. He had, therefore, won the honor of going in first and casting the spell so the rest of them wouldn't suffer the effects of the curses she had placed on her treasure.

"Be careful," Harry told him firmly. Draco rolled his eyes, smiling at him assuredly before pulling away.

"Like Bonnie and Clyde," Hermione said wryly, and Harry almost laughed.

"Well, I just don't—wait, which one of us is Bonnie?!"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

"No," Harry replied hastily, and Ron snorted.

A large groaning sound caught their attention and they turned to look at Bogrod, who had succeeded in opening the door.

Ron and Hermione sucked in a breath almost simultaneously, but all Harry could do was stare.

Gold and silver sparkled off of every inch of the vault: stacked up on ledges, piled on the floor, hiding in corners and hanging from hooks. They sparkled with an evil glint that did not usually come with treasures that Harry had encountered, and he wondered if it was the knowledge of who it all belonged to that perhaps altered his perception of it.

His gaze fell from the treasure to the back of Draco's head as the boy raised his wand, murmuring something under his breath, his wrist doing something complicated as he did so. The gold and silver pieces flashed once, but remained unchanged.

Draco seemed to think that it worked, for he nodded and put his wand back away.

"Let me test it," he said, and Harry bit his lip to keep from stopping him.

He reached out a finger and chose the smallest thing he could reach—what looked to Harry like a pair of diamond earrings. They all held their breath as the pad of Draco's finger brushed against the gem.

Nothing happened.

Breathe, Harry reminded himself. Breathe.

Draco pressed his finger to a plate next, and then even dared to close his fist around a handful of gold pieces.

They remained cool and solitary, just as they should.

"I did it," he said, sounding enormously relieved.

"Good," Ron said, sounding almost congratulatory, and surprised them all by stepping into the vault to stand beside Draco. "That was brilliant. Thanks."

Draco looked at him, apparently shocked into silence.

"Thank you?" he repeated blankly, and Ron flushed, nodding.

"Yeah."

"Oh," Draco responded, blinking, and then shook his head. "You're welcome. Of course. I only want to help."

Ron nodded again. "I know."

Harry could have kissed them both, even though he could just envision Ron's reaction, and he honestly just narrowly avoided it.

Hermione was beaming at Ron in a way that Harry hadn't seen her smile in months—

"Hurry up!" Griphook snapped, breaking them all of their moment. "Sentiment has no place in bank robbery!"

"Right," Harry said, clearing his mind. "You all know what we're looking for. Hufflepuff's goblet, Draco's told you what it looks like."

At his words, their entire party save Bogrod crammed into the vault, spreading out as best they could in the small space.

As soon as they were all in, the door closed somewhat ominously behind them. They all looked at each other, uncertain.

"Bogrod can get us out," Griphook said. "Start looking!"

"Here's a goblet," Hermione offered a minute later, picking up one still somewhat cautiously. Harry turned his wandlight on the object in her hand, but shook his head. It was almost covered in precious jewels and Hufflepuff's insignia was missing.

"There aren't any jewels on the goblet," Draco reminded her.

Hermione nodded, setting it back down. "I just don't want to leave out any options."

"We might not have time to be so thorough," Griphook said, "They already know we're here!"

They all surveyed the shelves of gold and each of them made a noise as they discovered some sort of goblet—but none of them were Hufflepuff's.

"How many priceless goblets can exist?!" Ron exclaimed irritably, as he passed over another not-Horcrux goblet.

"Does Gringotts not have bigger vaults?" Hermione sighed. "This would be easier if the treasure wasn't so compact—"

"I am sure they regret not making the vaults more convenient for thieves," Griphook replied nastily.

"You're in this too, you know," Ron reminded him angrily, and Harry held up a hand.

"Not the time, either of you." he said, and Ron exhaled.

"Fine."

Griphook said nothing.

They continued in silence, until Harry turned to a suit of armor. He ran his wand over it slowly, making sure he wasn't missing something tucked around it. He raised the light above the helmet—

"There! It's—yeah! That's it!"

Draco, Ron, Hermione and Griphook whirled around, the three other wand lights joining his. Draco moved immediately forward, looking up at the goblet on the highest shelf.

"He's right—that's it."

"How do we get up there?" Ron wondered, looking around the vault as if to spot a ladder of some kind.

"I don't think we're meant to do it easily," Harry replied, beginning to look for some sort of purchase in the mountain of gold and silver to place his feet or hands.

"I could levitate you," Hermione suggested.

"Let me try and climb first," Harry responded.

He thought that maybe he could try and move things out of the way, try and climb up the shelves that lined the back wall. He pushed the suit of armor to the side, finding it much heavier than expected and used a Weightless Charm on it to help. The others seemed to get the hint, as they were all trying to clear a path for Harry to climb.

Harry grabbed the shelf right above his head and placed his dominant foot on the bottom, pulling himself up. He felt hands on his back steadying him, and turned to see both Draco and Ron trying to support him.

He climbed up this way, with his friends trying to steady and support him, until he reached the middle of the wall. He could see the goblet just beyond his reach, and he dared to let go of the shelf he was holding onto, stretching his arm out as far as it could go.

Without warning, the shelf holding his feet cracked and swayed, causing Harry to desperately cling to the top shelf. His lurch, however, set the shelf to splinter and give way, leaving Harry effectively dangling in the air in a sort of pull-up position.

His arms burned, and he realized rather unhelpfully that despite his extraordinarily active current lifestyle, his arm strength probably wasn't where it could be.

"Hermione," he grunted, trying to breathe through the burning, "If you'd—shit!"

The top shelf trembled and broke as well, and he gave a shout of shock as he fell to the ground. He barely had time to hope for no precious weapons in the pile he was about to land in when he stopped, turning in midair to see Draco pointing his wand directly at him and obviously levitating him.

"Thanks," Harry said feebly.

"You're an idiot," Draco replied.

He raised his wand and Harry was lifted higher. He swung about to face the wall and the goblet again, and he reached out.

"Further forward," he instructed, and Draco complied. He floated towards the wall and Harry finally felt his fingers close around the handle of the goblet.

His whoop of triumph was covered, however, by a sudden roar of the dragon outside, coupled with the sound of clanking.

"Shit," Draco breathed, lowering Harry as quickly as he could back to the ground. He swung his wand around to face the door. "Imperius!"

"What did you do?" Hermione asked.

"I'm telling Bogrod to not let anyone in," Draco responded.

Hermione looked faintly scandalized. "What if they have to hurt him?"

Draco didn't seem to have an answer right away. Looking torn, he finally said carefully: "Sacrifices have to be made sometimes."

She pursed her lips but didn't argue, looking to the door. "Do you think the spell can penetrate the door?"

Draco sighed. "I don't know."

"So what do we do now?" Ron asked, and they all looked at the door, envisioning the hoard of goblins and wizards no doubt on the other side.

"I think I can provide the next step," came Griphook's suddenly quiet voice directly behind Harry.

Harry turned around and froze.

Griphook was standing in front of him, beady eyes narrowed and cold as steel. His eyes, however, were not the main point of concern—that award went to the sword currently poking Harry in the stomach.

"What the fuck—" Ron growled, but Draco hushed him.

Harry was still, staring at Griphook intensely. Griphook stared back, his gaze unrelenting and unwavering. Harry had no doubt he would run the sword straight through him without hesitation.

"What is this." Draco spoke then, somewhere on Harry's side, but Harry didn't turn his head to look. Draco's voice was collected, almost polite, even—but the frigidity of it could escape no one's notice.

"This, Mr. Malfoy," Griphook replied, taking on the same tone, "is what will happen if you do not listen to me."

And he pressed the tip of the sword just a bit further. Harry gasped and hissed in pain as the sword pierced through skin—

"Okay," Draco stopped him, a hint of panic detectable. "Okay. We understand. What do you want."

"The Sword," Griphook replied immediately.

"You have one," Harry reminded him dryly.

Griphook's eyes narrowed further.

That was stupid, Harry thought.

"You know what sword I am referring to," the goblin spat. "You are going to give it me, and then you are going to open the door. I'll be your hostage."

"Griphook, I told you," Harry reasoned slowly. "We'll give you the Sword. This isn't necessary—just help us escape, we'll do it then—"

"No," Griphook hissed. "I know you were planning to double-cross me, do you think I—"

"We weren't trying to double-cross you!" Ron protested.

"Liar!" Griphook snarled.

"Do it," Draco instructed firmly, turning to Hermione.

She hesitated, but withdrew the beaded bag.

"Don't do it," Harry said. "Griphook, please. We can't lose the Sword."

"It was never yours to lose," Griphook replied easily.

Shouts sounded outside, muffled by the heavy door.

"Okay!" Hermione gave in, rummaging quickly in the bag and pulling out the Sword of Gryffindor, looking away as she thrust it out.

Griphook's eyes zeroed in on it right away, and Harry wondered if he dared to move.

Draco, however, saw the opening and whipped his wand out so fast Harry almost completely missed the motion.

He sent a Stinging Jinx at Griphook's wrist, breaking the goblin's loosened grip and sending the sword clattering to the ground.

The goblin howled in pain while Harry jumped backwards. Hermione stashed the Sword back away in the beaded bag as Harry Stunned Griphook, who had tried to lunge again.

"Fight our way out?" Ron suggested, as the shouting grew louder and more violent.

"Looks like we'll have to," Harry answered grimly, tightening the grip on his wand. Hermione and Ron drew theirs.

"I'm going to tell Bogrod to open the door," Draco said, walking towards the door. "We should be as close as possible—as soon as it happens, everyone starts firing and sprinting. Got it?"

"And then what?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide as saucers.

Draco looked at her. "Think that dragon can fly?"

Hermione let out a squeak, and Ron exhaled heavily.

"Fucking hell."

Harry laughed.

This is utter insanity, he thought. How is this always my life?

"Get as close to the door as possible," Draco said, and they all pressed against it. "I'll tell him to open the door discreetly. We need an element of surprise."

"How surprised can they be?" Ron muttered. Draco ignored him, which Harry thought was probably wise.

Draco pointed his wand at the door and gave the order, looking up at the rest of them as they began to wait.

Harry started counting up.

He looked at Draco, who seemed to be listening intently at the door, trying to discern what was happening from the shouts.

He looked at Ron, who had one arm wrapped around Hermione protectively, as if he was preparing to act as her shield.

His gaze moved to Hermione, who clung to Ron as well, her eyes trained steadily on the door.

He turned his head to stare at Griphook, frozen in place, still Stunned. The goblin looked at him, his small eyes burning from across the cell.

The door seemed to vanish, melting away at the touch of Bogrod. It startled all of them, especially Draco, who was closest and leaning against the wood. As soon as they realized what was happening, however, they took off at a run.

Hermione immediately cast a shield charm around them, blocking some hexes that were thrown their way as the other goblins and wizards realized what was happening.

Harry located everyone—Draco, throwing an unidentified spell at a wizard running towards them (safe), Hermione, shooting a remarkably-well armed spell from under Ron's arm (safe), and Ron, shielding Hermione (safe).

The dragon was pacing, roaring, restless, and their hasty shield charm was weakening under the constant barrage of spells.

"Hurry!" Hermione shrieked, pulling Ron along as she sprinted towards the dragon.

"HOW DO WE GET ON THE BLOODY THING?" Ron yelled, looking around wildly.

Draco pointed his wand at both of them, levitating Hermione first and dumping her on the dragon's back. She shrieked again and clung to the scales, extending the shield charm and throwing some curses back.

Ron was next; as soon as he landed he wrapped his arms around Hermione and joined her in the defensive attack.

"Draco, how are you—" Harry started to ask but was lifted off of his feet by Draco's spell, landing behind Ron rather ungracefully.

If the dragon noticed he now had three people on its back, it didn't show it. It roared and shook at the noise of the goblins and wizards, turning unexpectedly and almost throwing Harry off. He held on tighter and searched for Draco down below.

He spotted him near the dragon's tail, trying to get a hold—

No way is he doing that, Harry decided, pointing his wand firmly at Draco and levitating him up to where they were.

"Idiot," Harry murmured as Draco slid in behind him.

Draco grinned, his eyes a bit wild from the adrenaline.

"Relashio!" Hermione cried, pointing her wand at the dragon's chains.

They broke with little resistance, but the dragon still didn't seem to realize it was free, nor that it had four people on it.

A wizard broke through the resistance of Hermione's shield charm, hitting the dragon in the foot. It yanked the foot back, roaring again, spitting out a weak plume of fire, and then seemed to register it was no longer tethered.

Experimentally, it unfurled its wings, spreading them across the space and shielding the group from any errant spells.

It shook itself heavily, as a dog shakes off water, and they all held on as tightly as possible.

With a mighty roar and an even greater pillar of fire, it shot up in the air, drawing screams and yells from everyone around it.

Draco was holding Harry so tightly it hurt.

The great wings caught air, and the dragon spiraled through the open space, trying desperately to reach the dim sliver of light visible at the top.

"COME ON, DRAGON!" Ron bellowed, as they caught sight of the ceiling above them.

"IT'S GOING TO SMASH THROUGH!" Hermione screamed, but she was wrong—the dragon opened its mouth and let go another blast of fire, splintering and breaking open the ceiling.

Harry had no idea where they were—his eyes were firmly shut against the falling rubble all around them. He supposed they could be in the main entrance, judging by the screams, but all he could concentrate on were Draco's arms around him, counting on the bruising pressure to make sure he was still there.

In what seemed like seconds—but it could have been minutes, hours—everything seemed to clear.

There was light against his eyelids, a ringing in his ears and he was unharmed—or maybe he had died.

Harry coughed and opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a dragon's head against a light grey and cloudy sky. He blinked and looked at where they were.

They seemed to be perched on the top of the Gringotts building, the dragon apparently resting for a moment as it spread its wings without taking flight.

"I think—" Hermione began, sounding shaken, "I think it's soaking up the light."

Harry turned his head and became even more aware of Draco pressed against him, his head still tucked between Harry's jaw and his shoulder.

"You can open your eyes now," Harry murmured, but Draco shook his head.

"Heights," was all the reply he got.

Harry would have laughed, or comforted him, but the dragon roared once more and spread his wings wider, kicking off from the roof and launching into the air.

"Don't look now," Harry yelled over the wind. Draco squeezed him once.

"You're an idiot," he said.

Harry actually did laugh at that.


"We do have the Horcrux, right?" Draco called out, his voice right in Harry's ear, as they flew over a lake that vaguely reminded him of riding Buckbeak in third year.

"I'd be loath to turn around," Hermione laughed, and Harry leaned to avoid her hair as it flew in his face again.

"It's in my jacket, with the Cloak," Harry answered both of them, patting the lump in his clothing. "I shoved it in when we were—"

Harry Potter.

Harry froze, breaking off, whatever he was talking about flying completely from his mind.

Harry Potter.

That was his voice. That was Voldemort's voice. Talking to him—directly to him.

"Harry?" Draco asked, sounding a bit more urgent. "Harry, you do have it, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, not really paying attention to the question. He was barely aware of anything. "Just…just hold on a second…"

I know what you have taken, Harry Potter.

"Harry!"

You have taken something of mine. You have taken many things of mine.

"We need…get off," Harry said, compiling everything he had to force the voice from his mind.

"Harry. Harry!"

Was that Draco?

Harry Potter.

Harry seized up, an explosion of mind-splitting pain bursting in the front of his head.

I am now going to take something you've loved.

Harry gasped and clutched his head, the pain radiating from the front to the back and pulsing with each second, keeping time with his pain.

Even through his agony, terror and dread flashed through him at Voldemort's threat.

"Draco," Harry gasped, not quite meaning to vocalize it.

Something we have both needed. That we have always had claim to.

"Yes? Harry, please, what's happening?"

"Hogwarts!" Harry yelled, clutching his forehead.

Come to me. Let us finish this the way we were intended.

His pain reached a crescendo as Harry fell off of the dragon, getting a quick sensation of falling and panic before everything ceased with an onset of blackness.