A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, hope you like it!

Chapter 25

It really wasn't so bad, Harry decided, having Draco in his mind. Not that he'd ever been particularly opposed to the idea, as he'd been the one to suggest it, but the thought of having anyone, much less someone whose opinion he valued very much seeing some of his memories…Not, he reasoned, that he'd been worried about Draco being disgusted and turning away from him, quite the opposite, in fact. Mostly, he'd been afraid of meeting Draco's eyes and seeing only pity reflected back at him. But, upon sneaking a peak at Draco after they'd viewed the memory of the Dursleys, he'd seen something else entirely; sadness, sure, and certainly sympathy, but also anger, admiration, and perhaps even respect. The discovery made him slightly giddy in retrospect - perhaps he really could tell Draco anything, even things he'd never told Ron and Hermione. It was, Harry mused, more than he could ever have hoped for.

After he and Draco had visited the snake - well, himself - once more, so as to be certain they could access it easily through the linking spell, the looming prospect of the spell on Draco's Dark Mark had caused them to take a brief hiatus.

"I'd really hoped we'd have time to do it today," Draco said later, shivering and too-pale beneath a pile of blankets. Hermione had performed the spell a couple of hours ago, and as always, Harry had waited patiently at Draco's side for him to awaken.

"Me too," Harry said quietly, pulling Draco more closely against him. The blankets piled over them were stifling, but Draco tended to be feverish lately after the spell was performed, causing Harry to question Hermione as to whether she really knew that her spell couldn't cause long-term damage. She had shakily replied that she wasn't sure, but at the moment it was their only option.

Harry idly pushed Draco's hair off his forehead, noting with dismay that his skin was cold and clammy.

"Are you sure you'll be okay to do it tomorrow?" Harry asked softly, lightly kneading the back of Draco's neck.

Draco nodded, burrowing his head against Harry's chest. "Definitely," he said in a near whisper. "I'm sure as hell not letting that…that nose-less, red-eyed freak get the best of me. I am a Malfoy, after all."

Harry couldn't help but smile at Draco's attempted haughtiness.

"And besides," Draco continued, mumbling against Harry's neck. "The sooner we get rid of his soul fragments, the sooner we can kill the bastard."

Harry wasn't aware that he'd been holding his breath, until Draco wearily raised his head and instructed him to breathe.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said quietly, lowering his head to Harry's shoulder. "I shouldn't have brought it up…"

"It's okay," Harry replied, kissing the top of Draco's head. He sighed, staring numbly at the ceiling. "You're right…I…I do have to kill him, I suppose. I guess…the thing is…I don't know if I can. I mean, even without the Horcruxes, Voldemort is still a stronger, better wizard than I am." Harry gave a bitter laugh. "I can't even do non-verbal spells properly, did you know that? Some savior of the wizarding world I am…"

Draco was oddly silent, and Harry felt a sharp stab of regret for unloading his worries on him when, by all means, his attention should have been directed towards Draco's comfort.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "You're sick, and I…"

"Are you done?" Draco asked softly, the question surprisingly gentle. He pulled himself to a slightly upright position, his hands splayed across Harry's chest for balance.

"Harry," he said, his eyes fixed earnestly on Harry's face. "Whatever made you think you had to kill him on your own, without any help? In what part of the prophesy does it say, 'Harry Potter must kill the Dark Lord all by himself'?"

Harry frowned. "Dumbledore, he said…" he frowned again. "It said, 'either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'…it said I have the power to vanquish him…"

"Yes," Draco said simply. "You've told me that already. 'The power to vanquish the Dark Lord', well, that's pretty vague, isn't it? And one of you dying at the hand of the other…" he gulped, his fingers digging into Harry's chest, and Harry gripped his hand reflexively, finding it to be as cold as ice.

"The thing is," Draco continued, lowering himself onto Harry once again and shivering. "The wizarding world is pretty divided on whether or not Divination is even a reputable subject…my father told me once, said it was a Muggle saying, oddly enough, that there is a such thing as a self-fulfilling prophesy. In other words, people who put a lot of stock into prophesies and such tend to make them come true, whether they mean to or not. And, think about it; you said yourself that Neville Longbottom was also born at the end of July and fit the prophesy just as completely as you did, but for whatever reason, Voldemort chose you. He 'marked you as his equal' and, inadvertently, contributed towards his own doom."

"Well, maybe that was meant to happen all along…I don't know." It actually was something Harry had pondered over occasionally.

"Maybe," Draco said in a non-committal tone. "But assuming it is true, it still doesn't specifically say you have to do it alone. And I wouldn't let you, anyway," he added quietly, apparently on the verge of lulling off to sleep once again.

"I know you wouldn't," Harry answered, staring up at the ceiling once again as he ran his fingers through Draco's hair. And that's what worries me, sometimes.

"You're quite sure you know what you're doing, Draco?" Hermione asked the next day. They were all four huddled in a hasty semi-circle on Ron and Hermione's side of the tent, as the temperature outdoors had turned exceptionally frigid overnight. It had been so cold, in fact, the entire forest so covered with snow and hoer frost, that they had all decided to forego their usual breakfast-nook, and instead had cast multiple warming charms and eaten inside the tent. Harry had never been more grateful for Mrs. Weasley's sweaters, and Draco, loathe though he was to admit it, appeared equally grateful.

"Like I said before, Granger," Draco said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "How can I know what I'm doing when I've never done this before? In theory, yes, I think I know what I'm doing, but in practice, no."

"No, what I mean, Draco, is whether or not you're in enough control of your Legilemency to attempt something like this! I know you say you are, but there's no shame in practicing a bit more!"

"Hermione," Harry cut in, feeling slightly annoyed. After all, they'd been over this with her multiple times, but with typical Hermione stubbornness, she simply had to have the final say. "Draco and I have a plan, okay? Yes, my Occlumency is complete and utter shit, and yes, Draco's Legilimency probably isn't perfect, but I think it's good enough."

"Good enough?" Hermione asked incredulously. She closed her eyes briefly, as if counting to ten in her head. "Being 'good enough' isn't good enough! Honestly, you'd think you two were about to turn in a Potions project, not go traipsing through the mind of the most powerful Dark wizard of our time!"

"I think they should do it," Ron said quietly, speaking up for the first time since they had begun arguing. Hermione stared at him incredulously, and he shrugged.

"Hermione, you're brilliant and all, but sometimes you've got to just do things if you want to learn how. And I trust Harry…and Malfoy," he wrinkled his nose slightly, as if smelling something particularly foul. Draco smirked in response.

Hermione sighed indignantly. "If you ask me, I think you both need more practice…but, whatever. There's obviously no convincing you otherwise."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Granger," Draco said dryly, turning so that he faced Harry. And in spite of Draco's outward display of confidence, Harry could tell he was more nervous than he was letting on.

"Are you ready?" he asked Harry quietly. Harry nodded, taking Draco's free hand.

"It will be okay," Harry told him softly, an exact echo of the words Draco had spoken to him, just before he'd performed Legilimency on him for the first time. Draco must have realized it, because he smiled slightly, squeezing Harry's hand in response.

"We'll be right here, if you need us," Ron said quickly.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said with a smile, knowing full-well that there was little that any outside party could contribute once the link was in place.

"Be careful," was all Hermione said, pushing her hair out of her face. It was a nervous gesture that Harry knew all too well, and he touched her arm gently with his other hand, causing her to smile tightly at him in response.

"Okay," Draco said, inhaling audibly. He raised his wand, pointing it at Harry. "Contanimus Tribulus!" A brief pause. "Legilimens!"

Harry had had little experience with subtlety when it came to spells, so he was fully expecting something great and dramatic to happen when Draco performed the two spells in conjunction. But instead, Draco was in his mind as usual, and with Draco's presence guiding him, Harry slipped in beside him, unsure as to whether the linking spell was even working.

It is. A voice, Draco's voice, resounded inside his head (inside the inside of his head?), startling him for a moment.

"It's okay," Draco said quickly, grabbing his hand. "Our minds and magic are joined, it's different than Legilimency, you see, but it's not like I can just read your thoughts, or you, mine. You were just shouting them exceptionally loud for a moment, there."

Harry blinked, slightly disconcerted by the notion. Can you hear me, Draco?

Yes.

Harry laughed nervously. "This is just too weird."

"Agreed."

A memory wisped by them of Harry being chased by one of his Aunt Marge's bulldogs, and he shuddered slightly.

Draco eyed the memory disdainfully, shaking his head. "What the fuck is wrong with Muggles?" he muttered, tugging Harry forward. "Come on, let's see what we can find in old snake-face's mind."

At nearly that exact moment, everything blurred around them. Harry instinctively tightened his hold on Draco, afraid he'd simply blow away in the storm of memories whirling them about - but then it stopped. Blinking bemusedly, Harry realized they were once again standing before the snake, and therefore the link to Voldemort.

"Whoa," Harry whispered, more to himself than Draco. How did that happen?

Draco smirked, eyeing him sideways. "Everything is combined, Harry. Whatever we want to happen, will happen with twice as much strength - which apparently we underestimated."

Harry wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "Yeah… apparently."

Swallowing nervously, he focused his attention on the snake and spoke. "Are you ready?" he asked, knowing his hisses and whispers were no longer discernable to Draco.

The snake coiled her head around and narrowed a pair of shining green eyes at them. "It took so long for me to get here," she hissed languidly, "why do you want me to leave so soon?"

Harry shook his head. "Not leave. Just… back off for awhile. And protect us if - if he gets too far into my mind. Alright?"

"Yesss," she answered. With careful precision, the snake began unwinding her long, lithe body and encircling the pool. "I will protect us."

"Okay," Harry said shakily, to Draco. "Ready?"

Draco's eyes were wide, his skin paled several more shades than normal, but his nod was firm. "Ready," he replied.

Harry hissed once more to the snake. "Open the link."

He honestly hadn't known what to expect at this point, whether the snake - being his lowered Occlumency shields - would simply disappear, or perhaps only back off for the time being. But what he certainly hadn't expected, was for her to slide into the pool.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Harry whispered, eyeing the now bubbling pool nervously. Draco squeezed his hand tightly in response.

And then, just like that, the link was open.

Harry gasped, fighting the urge to sink to his knees, as a wave of magic, of filthy, Dark magic, seared through his very being.

"I think he's been waiting for you," Draco murmured from beside him, a look of blatant unease flitting across his face.

Voldemort's voice began to laugh.

"Now!" Harry urged. Draco's hand tightened and then he simply disappeared.

Harry felt the link between them stretch and zing with intensity, and Harry's initial thoughts that their bond had somehow been severed, vanished as completely as Draco had. And that meant Harry had to act.

Harry! Oh, Harry! Voldemort's silky voice called out. There you are! It's been so long!

'Not long enough, Tom," Harry said, hoping he sounding less nervous than he felt. "I just finished destroying one of your Horcruxes, after all."

A strangling pain around Harry's chest sent him to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Voldemort's voice grew louder.

Now, now, Harry. Lying doesn't become you…

His words trailed off and, for a moment, Harry felt his presence receding along with the pain in his lungs.

Then Voldemort screamed. How dare you!

"Draco!" Harry cried out, as agony of a different sort resonated through him. The link snapped taut as a wire, their combined magic vibrating violently, and Harry willed as much as he could to the other end, knowing Draco was under attack. He felt, rather than heard, Draco scream. "Draco!" Harry tried again, shouting for all he was worth. "Come back now! We have to close it!"

Harry doubled over, clutching his stomach that seemed to want to tear out of his body. "Ahhh!"

Suddenly, a body toppled into his. Even through the blurry, pulsing mass that was Harry's mind, a glimpse of pale hair was enough for him to yell, "Shut the link! Shut it!"

As abruptly as it had disappeared, the snake slithered her way out of the pool, hissing and spitting viciously, and the boiling sludge of the pool stilled. The link was closed.

"Oh, god," Harry groaned, rolling over and grasping for Draco. Draco stared back at him, breathing equally hard.

"Are you alright?" Draco whispered hoarsely. Harry blinked. His mind continued to pound like a heart-beat around them, shuddering and quivering with leftover pain, but it was nothing he hadn't felt before.

Harry nodded. "We should end the spell. How… how do I make sure you get all your magic back?"

"You just," he struggled to a sitting position, "just concentrate on what your magic feels like. Relax, alright?"

Resisting the insane urge to laugh at being told to relax, given what he just happened, Harry took a deep breath and followed Draco's instructions.

Ready? Draco words floated through his mind.

Draco's whispered "finite incantantatum" was, once again, far less dramatic than Harry had imagined it would be. Draco was still in his mind via Legilimency, after all, so the only change was a sudden feeling of… self-awareness, for lack of a better term.

"It worked?" Harry asked, afraid he'd look up and find Draco's horror-stricken gaze, confirming Harry had just successfully turned him into a Squib.

"It worked," Draco answered softly, sinking back to the ground. "I'm going to leave now…"

Harry opened his eyes, his real, physical eyes, to find Hermione leaning over him, concern etched in every pore of her face.

"Oh, Harry!" she gasped, throwing herself on top of him in a tight embrace. "Harry, that was awful! What happened??"

"It didn't work," came Draco's weak voice from beside him. Despite the shooting pain in his skull, Harry turned his head enough to see Draco was awake as well, Ron hovering worriedly at Draco's side, as Hermione was doing at his own.

Hermione sat up, eyebrows raised nearly to her hair. "Are you both alright? Harry, your scar was just pouring blood! And Draco, oh, your Mark!"

"I bloody well thought Vol - Voldemort was about to come popping up out of your arm!" Ron exclaimed, wiping his face nervously.

Draco blinked slowly, meeting Harry's eyes. Harry did his best to smile, though the roaring in his head was growing steadily in intensity, sure to reach its peak soon.

"Maybe," Draco said, attempting to sound casual, but barely succeeding, "we need a bit more practice."

The last thing Harry remembered before passing out was Hermione asking again if he was alright, as he started to laugh.

Draco sat patiently at Harry's side, listlessly watching the rise and fall of his chest. It had been approximately two hours since their unsuccessful attempt at Legilimency, and Draco couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt at Harry's current state. True, the potion had linked them together, yet Harry was Voldemort's primary target, and had suffered the brunt of the attack. And Draco, as the better Legilimens of the two should not have underestimated his opponent - particularly when that opponent was Lord Voldemort.

He shuddered, remembering the feeling of being submerged into the foul blackness of Voldemort's thoughts, and he reflexively brushed Harry's hair away from his scar, noting with satisfaction that the famed lightning bolt appeared far less irritated.

Harry stirred in response, opening his eyes and blinking sleepily up at Draco.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled, jerking his hand away.

"S'okay," Harry muttered, pulling himself to a sitting position. He squinted at Draco, fumbling idly for his glasses. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours," Draco replied, handing Harry his glasses. "How is your head? Hermione and I managed to force a potion down your throat - good thing I've had practice of that sort, haha - but your scar is still a little red…"

Harry smirked at Draco's innuendo, then frowned slightly as he peered at Draco's arm. "I feel fine, now…how about you? Your arm doesn't look so great."

Draco shrugged, clutching his arm. "Never better, of course."

Harry sighed. "Draco…"

"Harry, it's fine. Honestly, I hardly feel it these days." That was a lie, of course, and judging from Harry's skeptical look, he knew it, yet he also knew when it was best to say nothing.

Harry leaned his head against Draco's shoulder. "That was awful," he groaned. "I just feel…filthy being near his thoughts, you know? And to have it all have been for nothing…"

"I know what you mean," Draco said softly, leaning against Harry. Gently extracting Harry's head from his shoulder, he kissed him thoroughly on the lips, moaning slightly when Harry nipped his lower lip.

"It wasn't really for nothing, though," Draco panted, finding it incredibly hard to concentrate as Harry's lips trailed down his jaw.

"How's that?" Harry asked, pushing Draco gently onto his back and straddling him.

"Because…because…oh, fuck," Draco cried as Harry deftly unbuttoned his pants.

"That's the general idea," Harry said wryly.

Approximately twenty minutes and two cleaning charms later, Draco had his answer.

"It wasn't for nothing," Draco reiterated as he pulled a second Weasley sweater over his head. He scowled as he felt his hair static, and he smoothed it out absently. "Because now we know what to expect. And as you know, once you've been in someone's mind - or been around it, in our case - it's much easier to break into it. He still isn't a strong Occlumens, no matter how good of a Legilimens he is, and we're bound to get in eventually."

"I guess you're right," Harry said in a noncommittal tone, picking at a string on his sweater. He smiled slightly. "We'll have to practice, apparently. Hermione was right - so I'm sure we'll never hear the end of it."

"Wonderful," Draco said dryly. He pulled himself to his feet, extending a hand to help Harry up. Draco smirked at Harry's look of surprise.

"No one can say my mother didn't teach me to be a gentleman," he quipped, all the while surreptitiously appraising Harry's condition as he stood up.

Harry snorted. "What, am I the lady in this scenario?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Funny you ask…is now a good time to check?" He eyed Harry suggestively.

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing Draco's good arm and leading him out of the tent. "We should let Ron and Hermione know I'm alright. And eat, I'm starving."

"We did have a lot of physical exertion recently," Draco said absently, glancing around at their surroundings. There was a certain eerie beauty to the woods that evening - ice-sickles glistened, jewel-like, among the trees, which cast bluish shadows over the snow. He felt a sudden wave of loss at the physical manifestation of time passing - the ground had been free of snow when his father had died. Draco swallowed, his throat inexplicably tight. He wondered how his mother was doing, if she was even still alive.

"Hey." Harry gripped Draco's shoulder softly, halting him. Harry's eyes were filled with concern, and for a moment Draco regretted just how well Harry could read him. But only for a moment.

"Is something the matter?"

Draco stared back, noting fondly that Harry's hair was sticking up more than usual. Hermione had given them all haircuts the day before, but Harry's appeared to have grown an inch overnight.

"I was thinking about my parents, actually," he said softly, glancing past Harry towards the partially frozen stream. He shivered as a gush of icy wind blew his hair back. "My mother - she'd be ordering the house-elves around right now, getting the Manor decorated for Christmas. I haven't seen her do it since I've been at Hogwarts, but I can remember…" he trailed off, feeling rather than seeing Harry move closer.

"I just wonder if I'll ever see her again," Draco said softly, looking at the ground.

"You will," Harry said, wrapping an arm around him. Draco closed his eyes, relishing the contact, and leaned further against Harry.

"I've always wondered," Harry said after a moment. "Second year - you stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas…the year before, of course, I remember you talking loudly about how sorry you felt for anyone who had to stay at school over the holidays, because no one wanted them…"

Draco smiled slightly. "I was charming as a child, wasn't I?"

Harry smiled sardonically "That's an understatement. But anyway, I wondered at the time why you had to stay over Christmas, and knowing what I do about your mother…"

"How she could hardly bear to let me out of her sight, you mean? Yeah, she wasn't too happy about it, but my parents were invited to a party in Paris, and my father thought it would be good for me to learn to be more independent. She let him win that argument, but when my father wanted to send me to Durmstrang, she didn't speak to him for a week. She even threatened to leave him and take me with her - she was that worried about me being so far away."

"Your mum must really love you," Harry said softly.

"Yeah," Draco said, slightly afraid he would cry if he continued the subject. "Yours too."

"Yeah," Harry agreed quietly, squeezing him once more. They both stood in silence for a few moments, until Draco could feel Harry shivering beside him.

"Come on," he said, gently nudging him along. "It's freezing out here."

Together they closed the distance to the other side of the tent, where Ron and Hermione were presumably waiting. As Harry crouched to open the tent-flap, his dark hair flopping in front of his eyes, Draco felt a sudden overwhelming rush of affection, and so he leaned down and kissed Harry, hard.

Harry gave a small squeak of surprise, but smiled indulgently at Draco after he'd pulled away. "What was that for?" he asked with a grin, his fingers poised to throw open the tent-flap.

Draco shrugged. "Because you're Harry." He swallowed, feeling inexplicably vulnerable. "Don't let that go to your head," he added jokingly. "I still think you're an attention-seeking git."

Harry grinned. "That's okay. I think you're the same poncy bastard as ever…and you still have nothing on me as far as Quidditch goes…"

Draco groaned, feigning hurt. "That's going too far, Potter. The Quidditch part, I mean. I'll readily admit to being poncy, although my parents were married at the time of my birth, disproving that theory…"

Suddenly, the tent-flap was flung open, revealing an exasperated Ron. "Oy, are you two really going to stand out here all bloody night? You might not be able to hear us, but it doesn't mean we can't hear you."

Harry shook his head sheepishly, ducking down to enter the tent. Draco followed suit, quickly straightening to smirk at Ron, despite his own embarrassment.

"That eager to see me, Weasley?" he drawled. "That's so sweet!"

Ron made a small grunt. "Hey, Hermione!" he called across the room at Hermione, who was apparently deeply engrossed in some book. She gave a slight nod in response, her eyes never wavering from her place in the book. "Remember that day when Malfoy got turned into a ferret? Best bloody day of my life!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Good one, Weasel. Next time, try using something I haven't already heard a hundred times."

Harry rolled his eyes at both of them, walking past and taking a seat by Hermione. Hermione lifted her head, squinting quizzically at him as though surprised to see him there.

"Harry? When did you get here?" She shook her head, the glazed look disappearing from her eyes. "Sorry. I don't know where the time goes when I read." She lazily pointed a finger at a bag in the corner of the tent. "There's sandwiches if you want any…I didn't really feel like cooking anything today. And besides," she frowned thoughtfully, her lips pursing in annoyance. "Why should I always cook, anyway? Just because I'm a girl…"

"Because you're the only one here that knows how!" Ron protested, sitting sulkily next to Hermione. Draco shrugged, grabbing the bag of sandwiches and sitting beside Harry.

"I know how to order a house-elf to cook," Draco said flippantly, taking out a sandwich and biting it delicately.

Hermione made a sound of such disgust, that for a moment Draco thought she was having an attack of some sort. Ron and Harry simply looked scared, shrinking back from her warily.

"Draco! How can you say that! Don't you know that the house-elves are slaves? Slaves! How can you perpetuate a cycle of such injustice?"

"Granger, they like being slaves. They really do. Ask one, if you don't believe me."

"I'll cook sometime," Harry cut in hastily, preventing Hermione, whose mouth was currently opening and closing like a fish, from speaking. "I used to do it all the time, when I lived with the Dursleys…it's not a big deal, really."

Hermione's mouth snapped shut, and she exhaled sharply through her nostrils. "Thank you, Harry," she said after a moment. She gave him a slight smile, then launched into a lengthy inquiry on his well-being. Harry nodded good-naturedly, occasionally mumbling between bites of sandwich. Draco met his eyes and grinned, feeling that in spite of the chill outside and the looming doom they were facing, somehow, everything would be alright; his mother, along with all his friends from Slytherin, would be alive, Voldemort would be destroyed, and he and Harry (and Ron and Hermione, he had to amend) would survive to see the end of it all.

If not for the fact that Draco was such a light sleeper, he might have never known that Harry needed help, and the consequences may have been disastrous. But as it was, Harry's thrashings and guttural moaning brought Draco out of sleep quickly and completely.

"Harry, wake up!" Draco said drowsily, shaking Harry's shoulders, believing him to be having a nightmare. Harry didn't respond. Feeling a sudden wave of dread, Draco pushed the hair away from his forehead - and cursed aloud. Harry's scar was red and pulsating, droplets of blood seeping along the edges.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Draco hissed vehemently. He gripped Harry's shoulders, shaking him vigorously, but to no avail. Feeling desperate, he pointed his wand at Harry, an ennervate on the tip of his tongue, but sudden doubt caused him to lower his wand. Harry was clearly under attack from Voldemort - what if waking him simply made matters worse, or even caused permanent damage to Harry's mind? As far as he could tell, there was only one solution.

"Contanimus Tribulus!" Draco yelled, his wand hand wavering slightly. Then, taking a deep breath, "Legilimens!"

Harry's mind was a vicious storm of memories which knocked him off-balance the moment he entered Harry's mind. He was aware of Harry's magic joined with his, the link zinging with intensity as Harry attempted to push Voldemort out of his mind. Voldemort's presence felt oily and wrong, like swimming in a polluted sea.

"Harry!" Draco screamed inwardly. "Where are you?"

The link gave a tremendous lurch, causing Draco to stumble forward, and continuing to pull until he nearly fell headlong into the massive, black swirl of Harry's link with Voldemort. The black snake was nowhere to be seen, allowing foulness to spiral out and away from the link, essentially poisoning Harry's mind.

"Draco?" Harry was suddenly at his side, the snake curled around his arm.

"I thought she was supposed to help!" Draco said accusingly, frowning at the snake. The snake hissed at him in return, its forked tongue flickering wildly.

"She did all she could," Harry said sadly, stroking down the snake's back. "But he's just too strong…you should get out of here, Draco."

Draco stared at him incredulously. "Are you crazy? You think I'd honestly just leave?"

Harry bit his lip, closing his eyes and drawing in a shuddering breath. "Please, Draco."

"No."

"Draco, as long as we're linked together, he'll destroy your mind along with mine! Is that what you want? What about your mother?"

"Fuck you, Harry," Draco spat, grabbing Harry's wrists. "You wouldn't leave me, even when I begged, and I'll be damned if I don't return the favor."

Harry's eyes widened, but he didn't attempt to pull away. "He's too strong, Draco."

"No, he only thinks he's too strong. Now, tell that snake of yours to give a nice bite to the nose-less wonder, because I'm going in."

"Draco -"

"Now, Harry! We're running out of time!"

Harry frowned, but quickly hissed out instructions to the black snake. The snake hissed back, looking at Draco with slight distrust.

"Okay, she says she'll do it," Harry said after a moment. He placed the snake in front of the ever-growing link, and she slid in as if into water.

Harry gripped Draco's wrist tightly. "Please be careful."

Draco squeezed back. "I love you, Harry," he said softly, carefully pulling out of Harry's grasp. He raised his wand at the link, all the while knowing full well that he was doing no such thing, but needing the security of the action, nonetheless.

"Legilimens!" he screamed, putting all of his and Harry's magic and willpower into the action. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he stepped into the link, feeling darkness engulf him.

The first thing Draco was aware of, after the initial darkness had dissipated, was anger and hatred so intense that it nearly choked him. Coupled with it was a horrific awareness, a sentient quality that permeated and pierced him immediately; Voldemort knew his mind had been invaded, and he was not happy, his howls of rage echoing throughout the inky darkness. But Voldemort was clearly no Occlumens, and his meager attempts to push Draco out of his mind passed over him like wind.

Draco pushed forward, not caring to waste any time. Harry's mind had been exceptionally dark and oppressive at parts, particularly near some of his childhood memories, but this…this was like breathing in solid waste. It was not an experience he ever cared to repeat, and he repeatedly reminded himself as to his goal - find out about the Horcruxes, then close the link.

"Why are you hurting us?" a voice asked, startling Draco. He whirled around, surprised to see a small, dark-haired boy standing in front of him.

"Who are you?" Draco asked shakily, as the overall feeling of dread had seemed to increase with the boy's presence.

The boy frowned. "I'm Tom. And you shouldn't be here. I can hurt you, you know. I can hurt anybody I want! I'm special, even if they don't think so, but I'll show them!"

Tom Riddle. Draco shuddered, shoving the boy as roughly as he could. Tom gave a shriek of rage as he fell, and Draco hurriedly moved past him.

"I'll kill you!" Tom yelled furiously. Then, unexpectedly, he began crying. Draco turned around just in time to see him raise a tear-stained face and grin. "I can't wait to hurt you, now!"

Draco kept walking, leaving Tom, who had begun to wail, sitting by himself. Memories whirled around him at lightning speed, faster than in Harry's mind; the same dark-haired, handsome boy played in dozens of dozens of the memories. In one, Draco caught a glimpse of Tom at perhaps age nine, squeezing a kitten and watching clinically as its eyes bulged and a tiny snap indicated the breaking of bones.

Feeling slightly ill, Draco turned his attention to another memory, this one of a group of crying children huddled in a cave, all cowering from a slightly older Tom Riddle.

"Pathetic, aren't they?"

Draco's head snapped around to find young Tom standing a few feet away, staring. He wasn't watching the memory at all though. Instead, his soulless obsidian eyes were fixed on Draco, fixed with such intensity that Draco imagined he could feel them burning into his skin.

"Why did you hurt them?" Draco asked softly. In the back of his mind he knew it was a pointless question, but he asked anyway.

Tom regarded him as one regards an insect caught and dying in a trap. "That's a stupid thing to ask," he answered with a slight frown. "The people in the orphanage used to ask me that all the time. They were stupid too. So I hurt them."

The memory of the cave slipped away to reveal a teenaged Tom Riddle. He was kneeling on cold, stone floor, deftly carving intricate patterns into the skin of a weeping girl's chest. Draco swallowed.

"I meet stupid people all the time," Draco went on, careful to keep his voice controlled despite what he was witnessing. "But I don't hurt them."

"Stop it!" Tom yelled suddenly, sinking to the ground and clamping his hands over his ears. "I don't like being told what to do!"

Draco felt the memory pass into another, and then another. But he kept talking to Tom, hoping to keep him distracted long enough to find what he really needed.

"I'm not telling you what to do," Draco said. His stomach heaved violently as he watched an old man's blood boil and drain from his body while Tom Riddle stood by, laughing and twirling two other bodies through the air like grotesque marionettes.

A sudden vicious pain in Draco's back sent him reeling to the ground, gasping and choking as the nerves in his spine seemed to dance with white-hot fire.

"Don't lie to me," Tom growled, standing over him. He stared at Draco and grinned excitedly. "See? I told you I could hurt you. I don't think you believed me, but I did!"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on blocking out the pain.

It's not real, he told himself. Your body isn't here… your spinal cord isn't unraveling… it's all in your mind.

Slowly, very slowly, the agony receded into a dull ache that pulsed up and down Draco's back. Even that, he knew, wasn't real, but he didn't have time to convince himself any further.

"Tom," he wheezed, rolling to his stomach and then to all fours. "What made you decide you didn't want to die?"

As if Draco had taken hold on a delicate tree and shaken for all he was worth, memories began pouring down around him like dead leaves, falling faster than he could keep up with.

First, a flash of a hospital wing. Dozens of children lay stretched out in the beds, yellowish casts to their skin and dying breaths caught on their pallid lips. A very young Tom Riddle peeked from behind a doorway.

Next, Voldemort, as he was now, watching with clinical detachment as a once powerful wizard gasped for mercy even as his chest cavity collapsed and blood gushed from his mouth and nose.

A flash of green light. The screams of a woman holding her baby.

"Ahhh!" Tom screamed and shook his head back and forth like a thing possessed. "Stop it!"

But the memories didn't stop. Glimpses of death and dying, murder and torture, continued to stampede through Voldemort's mind. And Draco watched. He felt sick, possibly sicker than he ever had, but he kept watching, waiting and willing the memory he needed to surface.

"I'm going to kill you!" Tom shrieked, lunging at Draco. Draco cried out in surprise as the boy hurtled into him with far more strength than a sixty-pound boy should have, raging and clawing wildly at Draco's arms, chest, and face.

Until that moment, Draco had been afraid to actually mention Horcruxes. Although Voldemort had little control over his own mind, Horcruxes were his most deeply guarded secret, his most highly valued possession; Draco was afraid if he mentioned them, Voldemort would find the will to force him out of his mind. But as the child version of Tom tore bloody paths down Draco's skin, drawing more blood than the wounds warranted in reality, Draco knew he could wait no longer.

He decided to be as direct as possible.

"Where and what is your Ravenclaw Horcrux, Tom?"

Even as Tom screamed and kicked and clawed, the memory that inadvertently appeared before them was almost peaceful. The man who was once Tom Riddle, but not quite Lord Voldemort, was walking through the halls of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing hollowly off the stone. Statues stood still as he passed, the figures in portraits huddled together and looked away. And then he stopped walking. A plain door appeared on the wall, causing the waxy-faced man to smile in satisfaction, and he stepped through into a room - a room Draco had spent the majority of his sixth year stowed away in.

Draco barely felt Tom's fingernails dig into his neck, precariously close to his rapidly pulsing blood vessels, as the Room of Hidden Things sprawled out before him. Not-Tom-But-Not-Voldemort walked briskly forward until he came to a nondescript looking dresser cabinet. Junk lay scattered around it in large and varied quantities, making it hardly a prime place to leave one of his Horcruxes, Draco thought, but Voldemort once again smiled and drew something out of his cloak.

"Engorgio," he said softly. What appeared to be a doll-sized crown, grew instantly into a shimmering tiara, etched with a slanting quotation that read "Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure". Voldemort stroked the tiara with skeletal fingers before setting it down beside several other items - a wig, some books, a broken statue head - and walked away.

Draco jerked away as Tom's claw-like fingers reached for his eyes, losing sight of the memory, but he'd seen enough.

Tom abruptly backed away, his face contorted with rage and tears. "I'm going to kill you now," he whispered.

The same burning pain as before spread through Draco's metaphysical body like wildfire, making him scream and collapse to his hands and knees. This time, however, he had no incentive to stay. Closing his eyes, Draco focused with every ounce of strength on what Harry's mind felt like, so different from the toxicity and agony of this one, and he was suddenly struggling to the surface of the black pool. Though he felt weak and shuddering, Draco kicked and flailed his arms until the viscous, black fluid gave way to air.

"Harry!" Draco yelled hoarsely, gasping for breath and reaching desperately for something to hold. The pool felt like quicksand, sucking him into its depths, and Draco swallowed several mouthfuls of foul liquid as he struggled to stay afloat.

"Draco! Hold on!" he heard. And then a thick, scaly body wrapped around Draco's chest and a pair of grasping hands caught his own. Draco coughed and sucked in air as he was heaved free of the pool, landing in a messy heap on Harry's chest. Vaguely, he could hear Harry hissing frantically, and the darkness around them seemed to recede.

With a groan, Draco rolled onto his back and lay still.

"Draco," Harry said softly from beside him, "can you end the link?"

Draco nodded and whispered Finite Incantatem. He sensed rather than felt his magic and mind close into itself and gave a soft sigh at the sensation of being alone once more. Before Harry could say anything else, Draco withdrew completely and opened his real eyes. Sharp pain lanced behind his irises and he swallowed, wondering what mental wounds had been inflicted there.

"Harry?" he whispered, afraid what movement might do to him at the moment.

Harry made a soft noise and squeezed his hand tightly. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight and out of breath. "I'm here… Are you alright? I tried to keep him busy, but… but I know it probably wasn't enough."

Emotion welled up in Draco's chest and he forced himself to turn his head. Harry gazed back at him through shining eyes. His forehead was streaked with blood and sweat.

"We're both alright," Draco answered, squeezing Harry's hand in return. "And I got what we needed."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah… really."

Harry smiled. "Good. Because I don't think I can do that again any time soon."

Draco silently agreed but the overwhelming need to close his eyes won out.

He felt Harry's other hand rest on his chest.

"Feel free to pass out now," Harry said, positioning his body against Draco's in a tight cocoon of warmth. "I'll be here when you wake up. Just like you were for me."

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