Word Count: 812

- Also, quick reply to a question asked in a review, Neville did suggest the gillyweed to Harry in the movies, you're right, but in the books, it was Dobby who did it.

~ Chapter 7 ~

Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

"My old house elf stole from Snape's office so that you wouldn't flake out on the second task?" Draco asked, visibly shocked by the revelation.

Harry nodded, his smile widening. He was, admittedly, probably taking too much pleasure out of the blond's reaction, but it was funny.

He left the kitchen—and Draco to his shock—to send the note through the floo to Kingsley. He was hoping for a quick reply, but he had no idea if he'd actually get one. Kingsley would likely make him wait through irritation that Harry was bothering him after only a few days.

He quickly straightened up the living room before he returned to the kitchen. Draco seemed to have pulled himself together. He had the paper with the questions in his hands and a solemn look on his face.

Harry's heart sank. "What's up?"

Draco looked up and wrinkled his nose. "Not the nicest of questions, is all. Wanna skip it, or..?"

"You'll have to tell me what it is before I decide if I want to skip it," Harry replied softly.

Draco recited the question dutifully, and Harry sighed. "Why would someone even ask that? How does that have anything to do with falling in love? Unless you're supposed to say that you'd die protecting the person but… ew."

Draco snorted. "Ew?"

"Yeah. Ew. Even if you would, it's a bit cringy to just out and actually say it, isn't it?"

Draco chuckled quietly. "I guess so. So, do you want to answer it?"

"I've already died… or tried to, I guess. I still don't fully know how that worked, and I'm not sure I want to."

"My mother told me about that," Draco said, biting his bottom lip. "She said you stood there and just let him cast Avada Kedavra at you."

Harry leant down to check the blueberry muffins, smiling when he saw the golden tops. He pulled them from the oven with a tea towel and set the tray on the side. He knew there were spells he could use to cool the muffins instantly, but he didn't like using them.

Made them taste like cardboard.

He retook his seat at the table. "I did. I was just… so goddamn tired of fighting, and I guess… I had other information which made it necessary for him to kill me himself. I could have fought but… what was the point?"

"What was it like?"

"Nothing… and everything. I don't know how to explain it; I don't even know if it happened at all. It was strange, and it's not a thing I want to repeat anytime soon, but I'm not afraid to. When it's my time, it's my time."

"So… Do you have a hunch how it'll happen?" Draco asked, nodding back at the paper.

"Not really. Hermione would say that it'll be by me doing something reckless, and Ron still thinks I'm going to be an Auror, so he'd probably guess at me getting killed in the line of duty or something but… I don't know. I'd like to think I'll die peacefully when I'm old and grey."

Draco nodded. "I think most people hope for that."

"What about you? Do you want to swerve it? You know you don't have to, right? I won't try and force it."

"I'd like to believe the same as you," Draco admitted. "That I'll die when I'm old and it'll be peaceful and people will mourn for me, but… I guess I'm not that optimistic. I thought I'd die in the war, either in the middle of a battle I didn't want to fight, or at the hands of him. Now it seems more likely that I'll be killed by someone who blames me for something that happened to them."

Harry scowled. "That won't happen."

"You can't protect everyone, Harry," Draco muttered tiredly, and there was something so defeated about him that it hurt Harry's heart.

Rival or friend, or even enemy, he'd never wanted to hear Draco sound that way.

"I can try," he replied, looking away.

They were silent for a while, the air around them tense in a way it hadn't been since the first day. Eventually, Harry got up from the table and took the muffins from the tray, setting them on a plate.

He wasn't particularly hungry now, but it was something to do.

He looked out of the kitchen window and was disappointed that the beautiful weather from the day before had disappeared, replaced by dark clouds that appeared to just be waiting for the right time to rain hell down upon them.

He'd been hoping for a good day, but his mood was completely ruined now, and if the way Draco was glaring down at the table was any evidence, he wasn't the only one.