Author's Note: A thousand thanks to all reviewers. This chapter was a bit of a trial. There's a lot going on, and one scene in particular received a drastic last minute edit. Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy it.

- - - - -

Chapter 28: Control

After lunch, Harry was surprised to find Malfoy not in his corner, but lying flat on his back in the middle of the floor. "Malfoy?" he said tentatively, setting a plate of sandwiches on the desk. There was no answer. He stepped a little closer and saw that Malfoy's eyes were rolled back in his head, his breathing shallow. "Malfoy!"

Malfoy's eyelids fluttered, and suddenly he was back to normal. "I thought I had at least another hour," he said as he sat up.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"You want the detailed explanation? I don't think you'd understand it." He stood, wavering slightly.

"Make it simple."

"How about I just show you? Lay on the bed."

Harry blinked. "What? If you think for one second I'm going to fall for—"

"I figured out the maze."

Harry broke off, gaping. "You...when?"

"Last night. Or this morning. I wasn't exactly looking at the clock."

"So? What does it mean?"

"See? We're back to the complicated part." He picked up the book he had filched from the library the day before, flicked it open to the section on mental projection, and held it out.

This time, Harry skimmed the entry. "I don't understand."

"What did I just say?" Malfoy took the book back. "When Lupin was poking around in my head, did he tell you what he was doing?"

"Um..." It took Harry a moment to remember what he was talking about. "...he said he was doing Legilimency." He already did not like the sound of this.

"Then he was oversimplifying. Mental projection is technically a subfield, but it's an entirely different arena."

"What does any of this have to do with the maze?"

"I'll put it in terms a first year could understand. It took me this long to figure out the maze. Judging by the way our lessons have gone so far, I'd wager it'll take another year to get it through your head. So, we could do that, or I can go in and show you exactly how it works. All you've got to do is lay down."

"And you expect me to just trust you?"

"I expect you to know that I'm not that stupid." Malfoy drew his wand, dropping it on the desk. "There. Just in case things go bad, you'd better drop yours too. Unless you want to explain to the Weasels why there's blood on the ceiling."

Harry remained still for a long time, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "When Lupin did this, he had to knock you out first."

"He was repairing my memory. This is different. I need you conscious."

Harry paused for a split second longer before finally drawing his own wand and tossing it onto the desk. "Now what?"

Malfoy grabbed a sandwich off the plate, took one bite, and set it back down. He grabbed the desk chair, moving it to the foot of the bed. "We get started. Lay down."

Harry hesitated, then stepped over and sat on the bed, slowly lowering himself until his head was at the foot of the bed. He looked up at Malfoy's face hovering above his and felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Malfoy dusted his hands off and reached toward Harry, who flinched.

"Relax," Malfoy said. His fingers lighted on either side of Harry's head. "You're going to feel some pressure. Try not to fight it. Whatever you do, whatever you see, don't break eye contact. Unless you want our minds to meld together."

Harry nodded once, his insides still squirming. Malfoy's eyes stared intently into his, and he had to fight the urge to wrench away. Against his will, his mind started to replay the things Malfoy had done to him, memories in vivid sensory detail. He could not stand this. He was too close.

"Shh..." Malfoy's voice was oddly soft as he massaged Harry's temples. "Don't think about that."

The images slowly blurred, melding into a soft blue-gray color, the feelings shifting to a gentle, soaring sensation. Harry's muscles relaxed. Though he could still see Malfoy staring down at him, it seemed unimportant now. In fact, it did not even seem real anymore.

After a few moments, he felt himself begin to sink. Malfoy's face was getting further and further away, as though...as though he were staring at it through a dark tunnel.

The familiarity jolted Harry out of the blue-gray world and his heart leapt in his chest. The pressure on either side of his head increased.

"Don't fight it," Malfoy's voice echoed from far away. "Calm down."

Harry took a deep breath, or at least imagined that he had, and tried to do just that. The darkness pressed in around him, the image of Malfoy shrinking to nothing. An invisible weight threatened to crush him from above, but he tried to ignore it. He felt something brush his arms, and he forced himself to focus on the darkness.

"You can look now, Potter."

Harry, who had not even realized that his eyes were shut, opened them. He found himself standing in the middle of what looked like the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. Instead of stands, however, the field was surrounded by an inky blackness, as though the world just dropped off. Malfoy stood a few feet away, watching him. Harry looked away almost at once and turned his eyes upward instead, meeting with the same darkness. If he squinted, he could barely make out a pinprick of light, as though someone had poked a needle through a black ceiling.

"What the hell was that?" he asked finally, standing up.

"That was a near disaster," Malfoy answered. "If you kept fighting me, you might've been stuck like that."

"Not that," Harry said. Though the feeling of being in the tunnel was still fresh in his mind, it was not the thing that bothered him. "The...the other..." He struggled to find words to describe the blue-gray world. There was something oddly familiar and...comforting about it.

This time, it was Malfoy's turn to glance away, looking almost embarrassed. "I just thought...you know...Quidditch. Anything to stop your twitching."

Harry realized at once that that was exactly what it had been like. In fact, he wondered why he had not noticed it before. As his eyes flitted back to Malfoy, he felt his face grow hot and quickly changed the subject. "What is this place?"

"Technically, it isn't a place," Malfoy said. "It's a mental construct."

"A mental...you're telling me we're inside my head?"

"In a way," Malfoy said. He gestured over the field. "I'm projecting the imagery, since you don't know how to."

"So, what does this have to do with the maze?" Harry asked again.

Malfoy shook his head. "Nothing yet. First you have to learn the lay of the land. We'll start out with something simple." He held his hand out to one side and a broomstick materialized in his grasp.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked, annoyed by the awe in his own voice.

"I willed it. Now it's your turn."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but held out one hand nonetheless. He stared at the empty air, feeling utterly ridiculous. Malfoy was just trying to make a fool of him.

"Don't try for a generic broom. You'll only get as much detail as you imagine." He turned his own broom to show that it was his own Nimbus 2001.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but finally closed them and concentrated. He pictured his Firebolt clearly in his mind, recalling every last twig in the tail, the feeling of the handle gripped in his hand. When he opened his eyes again, he did not have to imagine anymore. He swung the broom up into both hands, staring at it. "How?"

"Just an illusion," Malfoy said. "I imagine you didn't remember the serial number."

Harry checked the handle and, sure enough, the serial number was missing. Still, it was hard to believe that this was not his broom. It was the same size, same weight, not a single twig out of place.

Malfoy smirked. "You'll find things here don't work quite the same as out there." He held out his left arm and, for the first time, Harry noticed that it was bare. There were no bandages, no wound, no Dark Mark. Only pale skin. Then, he opened his fist, revealing a Golden Snitch.

Harry shook himself out of his shock. "What, we're going to play Quidditch?"

"Not really," The Snitch spread its wings and rose into the air, circling around Malfoy once before dropping back into his hand. "The Snitch has no consciousness. It can only do what I want it to do."

"I suppose that's the only way you could beat me."

Malfoy gave a short laugh. "Witty, Potter. But I won't be playing this round." The Snitch shot out of his hand into the dark sky. He straddled his broom and rose up nearly a hundred feet. "Come on then."

Harry kicked one leg over his broom and tried to take off. Nothing happened.

"Didn't I tell you?" Malfoy called down to him. "Things don't work the same here. You have to will the broom to fly."

Harry tightened his grip on the handle and squeezed his eyes shut. It seemed an eternity since he had last flown. He tried to remember his last Quidditch match, but what came to his mind instead was the memory of the blue-gray world, the feeling of soaring. This time, when he opened his eyes, he was in the air.

But that was not all. The darkness was gone, replaced by a blue-gray sky, as though it were early morning.

Malfoy glanced around, seeming a bit unnerved. "Good," he said after a moment. "Now, catch the Snitch."

Harry turned away and circled the field. To be honest, he was not all too concerned about the Snitch. It had been so long since he had been on a broom. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the wind blowing in his hair.

Then, he realized that the breeze was real. He stopped his flight, squinting. He could just make out Malfoy, a tiny figure swooping around the goal posts on the opposite end of the field. He remembered how long it had been since Malfoy had even set foot outside, much less flown, and felt a twinge of pity. He shook himself and turned away, starting his search for the Snitch.

Harry had never had so much difficulty while playing Quidditch. In fact, it took him so long to catch his first sight of the Snitch, he almost managed to convince himself that it was not really there. When he finally spotted it near the ground, he dove. As he drew nearer, however, the Snitch veered left and, in an unusual move, circled behind him. Caught off guard, Harry twisted around. The broom wavered sharply, and he lost his grip, falling the last few feet to the ground.

"Bravo." Malfoy swooped down to hover just above him, leaning forward on his broom with a smug look on his face.

"This is stupid," Harry said as he struggled to his feet. "How am I supposed to catch that thing?"

"This is your mind, Potter. Theoretically, you should have more control over the physics than I do. You can't catch the Snitch until you learn to control it."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and kicked off again. This time, it took less time to find the Snitch, but he hung back for a while, just watching. It was moving normally now, zigzagging through the air. In fact, if anything, it seemed to be moving slower than usual. Confident that he had it this time, he sped toward it, hand outstretched. But when his fingers were just inches away, the Snitch dropped away. He shot past it and had to swerve to avoid crashing into a goal post.

So he tried again. And again. He chased the Snitch all over the field. At one point, he thought he had it cornered at the very edge of the field, but it feinted left and shot off to the right, evading his grasp. Soon, he was out of breath. His back felt wet and uncomfortable, and sweat trickled into his eyes, blurring his vision.

"You're making this too hard," Malfoy said. "Don't chase the Snitch. Make it come to you."

Harry paused in his flight, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes with his shirt. When he looked again, he spotted the Snitch almost immediately. It was lingering several feet away, as though mocking him. He narrowed his eyes at it. He was not sure what he was supposed to do, so he just focused, trying to will it to move to one side.

It did. At the same moment, however, his broom gave a lurch, plummeting several feet. His grip on the broom handle tightened, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Careful," Malfoy advised. "Don't forget, you have to keep the broom flying."

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and turned his attention back to the Snitch. It had moved, but not far, ascending slowly toward the sky. Harry rose with it as though stalking prey. As he got closer, it suddenly cut to the left. Frustrated, Harry whirled around and chased after it, wishing it would stop.

It did. In fact, it halted so suddenly, he overshot it. By the time he turned back around, it had started moving again, but not fast enough. He caught the Snitch by one wing and held on tight, pulling it back so he could get a better grip with the other hand. It had stopped struggling by then, however.

About twenty feet above him, Malfoy sat back on his broom, clapping his hands hollowly. "About time. All right, you can make the Snitch stop. Now, make it fly."

"What's the point of this?"

"Before we get to the maze, you have to gain control of this plane. You need to know how to conjure and control things."

Harry sighed and concentrated on the Snitch. As it rose from his hand, he felt the broom give a shudder, but he just locked his legs around it, and after a moment, it steadied.. Meanwhile, the Snitch moved in a sluggish arch away from him.

"Better make it go faster than that," Malfoy said. Before Harry could even think about what he meant, Malfoy dove. Harry's heart jumped, and so did the Snitch, right out of Malfoy's grasp.

Harry fought to compose himself and directed the Snitch to do a quick loop around Malfoy's back. Malfoy anticipated the move, however, and reached around, closing his fingers around the fluttering wings.

"Granger could've caught that. Try again." Malfoy tossed the Snitch into the air. The moment Harry caught it and sent it speeding away, he took off after it. Harry took the Snitch on a brief downward spiral and directed it toward the goal posts. It helped to imagine the Snitch as himself and Malfoy as the rogue Bludger from second year chasing after him. He sent it though a hoop and, when Malfoy drew too near, had it make two laps around him before taking off straight up into the air.

Malfoy continued to chase the Snitch. He caught it a few more times, but each round took longer and longer. Harry started getting creative with his moves, sending the Snitch on complicated spirals and loops around the goal posts and Malfoy. He performed several feints, though Malfoy was quick enough not to fall for most of them. Though Malfoy appeared to be working just as hard as Harry had, however, he did not even seem to break a sweat.

Then, all at once, Malfoy's broom dropped sharply, falling nearly fifty feet before coming to a halt. He wrapped his arms tightly around it, breathing harshly.

"What was—?"

"Lesson over." Malfoy shot toward Harry, closing the distance between them in less than a second. Before Harry could react, Malfoy's hand grabbed his robes, and he felt himself jerk upward, the scenery blurring and fading into darkness.

Then, just as fast, color rushed back in around him, and he found himself on his bed again. As his entire body tensed up, he heard a crash and flipped onto his side. Malfoy's chair had toppled over, and he lay on the floor, groaning.

A sharp knock made Harry jump again. "Harry?" Ginny's voice called through the door. "I heard a crash. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Harry replied, hoping he sounded more calm than he felt. "I'll be there in a minute." He turned his attention back to Malfoy, who was sitting up now, blood trickling from his nose. "Um...you're..."

Malfoy rubbed the back of his hand over his nose. He jerked his head once at the door and stood, limping to the bathroom. Harry waited until he was out of sight, mentally collected himself, and stood. His vision swam, and he nearly fell over, clutching the bedside table. As soon as the world stopped spinning, he made his way to the door.

Ginny's eyes widened the moment she saw him. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," Harry muttered, one hand clutching the door and the other braced against the frame.

"No, I'm serious. Are you okay?" She reached up to feel his forehead.

The moment her fingers touched his skin, he jerked back. "I'm fine."

She withdrew. "Mum sent me to get you for dinner," she said carefully. "I can tell them you're sick."

"Thanks," Harry said, moving to shut the door.

Ginny put her hand out to stop it. "You can barely stand. You're obviously not fine."

"I'm tired. I just need to sleep."

Her expression darkened. "Damn it, Harry! I tried to be understanding. I tried to step back and let you work it out yourself, but I can't just stand here and watch you do this to yourself." She stepped forward, squeezing past Harry into the room.

He turned to face her, irritated and slightly panicked. "Can we talk about this in the morning? I'm really—"

"No, we're going to talk now. Harry—"

"I said not now!" He had not meant to yell, but it was too late to take it back.

She only turned away with a sigh, biting her lip. "God, if you hate me that much, just say it."

Harry wavered. "W...what?"

"Every time I ask you what's wrong, you pull away. Every time I touch you, you flinch. Every...single...fucking...time!"

He gaped at her for a moment before taking a step forward, touching her arm. "Ginny—"

It was her turn to jerk away. "Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?"

"I didn't—"

"Don't. I can't pretend things are all right anymore. So if you won't tell me why, then at least have the nerve to tell me you don't love me."

Harry stared. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to reach out to her again, but he held back, knowing it would just make things worse. She wanted words. He was not sure exactly which words she wanted, but it did not matter. He could not say he did not love her any more than he could say he loved her.

"Fine." She stepped around Harry again and into the hallway. "Maybe if you'd stop wallowing in self-pity for two seconds, you'd realize there's still people in this house who care about you." The door swung shut.

Harry stared after her for a long time. When he finally looked around, he saw Malfoy watching him from the doorway of the bathroom. He held a wad of bloody tissues in one hand, but his nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. The expression on his face plainly told that he had overheard.

"I don't want to hear it from you," Harry said, stumbling across the room.

"I didn't say anything."

"Keep it that way." Harry collapsed onto his bed. The sheets were slightly damp from the sweat that had soaked through his shirt, but he did not care. He rolled onto his back and groaned, rubbing his eyes. His stomach churned, and a lump had formed in the back of his throat.

He was so consumed with his thoughts he did not feel the bed move beside him. A light touch on either side of his head made him flinch, however. "What the hell are you doing?"

Malfoy, who sat beside Harry with hands poised on either side of his head, shrugged. "Well you said I couldn't talk, so..."

"Don't even think about it."

"You're paranoid."

"I wonder why!" Harry tried to sit up, regretting it at once when he felt a muscle in his lower back spasm. His face contorted and he fell back down.

"Careful, Potter. You were just on a broom for six hours. You need to take it easy."

"But I wasn't. I was lying down the whole time."

"Your mind thinks you were flying. Until you can learn to control your physical state on the field, everything gets transferred."

"What about you? You didn't get that nosebleed from flying."

"No, I got it because I withdrew too fast. I overshot." He touched his nose lightly, as though to make sure the bleeding really had stopped. "I heard your girlfriend knock, and I panicked."

"I didn't hear anything."

"I blocked out the sounds. I didn't want you hearing a noise and falling off your broom."

Harry closed his eyes again. "I'm touched," he muttered sarcastically. When he felt the fingers on his head again, tracing small circles around his temples, he did not pull away.

-

When Harry woke again, it was dark outside. He lay for a long time listening to Malfoy's slow, steady breathing, trying to remember what he had dreamed about. All that came back to him was the image of a dark corridor lined with locked doors.

It made him think of Hogwarts. He had to make his decision in the next few hours. He had been so adamant about not going back, but now he was not so sure. Now that he really thought about it, all of his reasons for not going back seemed so stupid.

And there was the issue of the Horcruxes. He felt so guilty for leaving it all on Hermione. If he let her go without him, he might as well just admit that he was giving up.

But he was still hesitant. And he hated himself for it, because he knew that his reasons were not the same as they had been. Rather, they were all tied up in the horrible mistake that lay fast asleep beside him.

Just then, that mistake let out a low grown, stretched, and started to turn on his side. Harry reached over at once and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back so he would not roll off the bed. Malfoy blinked and glanced up at him. "And my head survives another day," he said.

Harry did not reply as he stood to get dressed.

"Uh-oh." Malfoy sat up. "Who died?"

Harry pulled his shirt on. "Nobody died."

"Somebody got captured? You're turning me in? You changed your mind and you're sending me to Snape?"

"No."

"Then what?" When he got no answer, he sighed. "Come on, we both know you're going to tell me. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Harry hesitated but decided there was no sense in keeping this to himself. After all, if he did decide to go, Malfoy was going to find out anyway. "We might be going back to Hogwarts."

"Oh." Malfoy leaned against the headboard, blinking. His expression was only mildly surprised, and he seemed to be contemplating something.

Harry waited for a moment, wishing Malfoy would say something else. When no words came, he spoke again. His voice sounded artificial, as though it was not even his own. "We got our letters a couple days ago. Hermione's going. Ron said he was, too. I haven't decided yet." He expected a retort. It worried him slightly when he did not receive one. "Are you—?"

"Can we skip this part, Potter? It's getting old."

"I really want to know."

Malfoy was silent for a long time. "I don't know," he said finally.

"You won't have to go back in the trunk." Harry was not sure why he felt the need to reassure Malfoy, but it made him feel slightly less uncomfortable. "But we will have to send you to Snape and Aberforth for a day."

"I knew there was a catch." Malfoy stood. "You might as well turn me in now."

"We're just asking them to watch you. They have no reason to interrogate you."

"Do you really think they'd need one?"

Harry paused. Malfoy had a point. Pensieve memories or not, he did not trust Snape or Aberforth. He moved slowly toward the desk, glancing down at the two wands that still lay on it. His mind made up, he retrieved Malfoy's and brought it to him. "Aberforth said the cabin isn't far from Hogsmeade. If things go bad, get yourself out and go to the Shrieking Shack. Then if Aberforth doesn't meet me, I'll know where to find you."

Malfoy stared down at the wand in his hand, as though he was not quite sure what it was. "So," he said after a moment, "I suppose this is happening, then."

It was not a question. They both knew the answer. Of course, Harry was going. He realized now that from the moment the letter arrived, he had known. It was just a matter of accepting it.

-

Hermione's eyes were on Harry as people began to filter out of the kitchen. He stared back, waiting. Ron sat across the table, looking bored with the proceedings. On closer inspection, however, he seemed far more interested in the table than was possible.

When everyone else had left, Hermione watched Harry for a few more moments. Then, her lips twitched into a small smile, and she stood. "Let's do this." Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, she knelt down, threw it into the fireplace, and stuck her head in the flames.

Harry and Ron waited, not quite meeting each other's eye. Tension was thick on the air, so much so that Harry started to wonder if he really was doing the right thing. But it was too late. If he backed out now, it would look suspicious.

Nearly half an hour later, Hermione finally withdrew her head, dusting soot from her hair.

"Well?' Ron said.

"It's all set," she replied. "We leave first thing in the morning."

-

Mrs. Weasley was understandably hesitant about them leaving early. After contacting Professor McGonagall herself, however, she was forced to concede that it was their decision. She, Ron, and Harry went to the Burrow that afternoon to retrieve Ron's trunk. While they were there, they also brought in Hedwig and Pigwidgeon. The owls were a bit snippy after spending so long outside, but between the three of them they managed to get them into their cages. Hedwig was particularly cold toward Harry. He could not blame her. With everything going on, he had all but ignored her for the last couple months, even when he was at the Burrow. When they got back to Grimmauld Place, they left the owls and the trunk down in the kitchen, for which Harry was grateful.

That night, Mrs. Weasley insisted on cooking them a large going away dinner. Harry was not hungry in the least, but he forced down two helpings to make her happy. His stomach protested, rolling and twisting in knots. Meanwhile, his mind was racing to figure out just how they were going to work this. All around him, there was only a light buzz of conversation.

When Harry reached his room after dinner, Malfoy picked over his own plate of food in silence. He ate very little, but Harry made no comment. Instead, he sat on his bed, leaned against the headboard, and waited.

Around midnight, he heard it: a single, sharp knock on the door. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached under it, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak. "Ready?"

Malfoy nodded once and drew his wand partially from it's invisible holster to show it to Harry. His face was ashen, but his expression was blank.

Harry strode over and draped the cloak over Malfoy's shoulders, drawing the hood up to hide his face. Keeping a tight grip on Malfoy's arm, he led him to the door.

Hermione stood in the hall. "The coast is clear. Do you have him?"

"Yeah." Harry's eyes flitted to the side to indicate where Malfoy was. They started downstairs, keeping a sharp eye out to make sure they were alone.

Ron waited for them at the kitchen table. Aberforth had arrived as well, sitting across from him. When they entered, he stood. "You have him?"

Harry nodded, and, after Hermione locked the door, he reached out. He groped the air for a moment to find the cloak and pulled it off of Malfoy.

Aberforth wavered slightly, as though he had just seen a ghost. "You know, I didn't really believe it until just now. Albus was right, you three really are quite remarkable."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, scoffing.

The noise drew Aberforth's attention. "And you. You led us on quite a chase, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked. "I do what I can."

"Yes, well, I've no doubt that Severus will want a word with you about that." He took Malfoy none-too-gently by the arm and started to lead him toward the fireplace.

"Do you want the cloak?" Harry asked.

Aberforth shook his head. "You use it. We'll take a Portkey. We'll meet one of you by the train tracks behind the Shrieking Shack at midnight. If we're not there, go back to Hogwarts and pretend you don't know anything. If things go bad, no one can know that you're involved in this."

"We understand," Hermione said before either of the other two could speak.

"If anything changes, I'll contact you tomorrow evening" Aberforth threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and pushed Malfoy forward, stepping in quickly behind him. Harry had on last view of Malfoy glancing back at him before the flames swept them both away.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. Next chapter: a passionate moment, a dramatic fallout, and a crisis that redefines frustration. As the trio makes the transition to Hogwarts, Harry finds that insomnia is a curse, but sleep is so much worse. I was hoping I'd never have to say this again, but I'd feel worse if I didn't warn you all: There'll be no Draco in the next chapter. I didn't intend it that way, it just kind of happened. Provided the characters cooperate with my intended storyline, I should be able to make it up to you in a couple of chapters or so.