Draco awoke to a bright light. Or at least he thought he awoke. He wasn't sure he existed. But he was thinking, and wasn't that the saying? I think, therefore I am? So he must be something.
He was lying on his back, of that he was sure. Or, pretty sure. Which meant he could feel things. Like the fact that he was naked. He blinked and turned his head from side to side. He appeared to be alone. He sat up slowly and took in his surroundings. It was a lot of white nothingness.
The last thing he remembered was jumping in front of the killing curse that Voldemort had leveled at Harry. Was this the afterlife then? It seemed oddly blank and impersonal. He'd thought the afterlife would be more interesting.
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Dumbledore said, appearing quite suddenly in front of him. Draco squeaked in alarm and covered his nakedness with his hands. But then, as quickly as Dumbledore had appeared, so did a set of robes. Dumbledore helpfully looked away while Draco put them on.
"This is quite unexpected," Dumbledore continued, once Draco was standing. Draco wasn't sure, but he thought the headmaster sounded disappointed. Had he been expecting someone else?
"Where are we?"
"Where do you think we are?" Draco looked around and realized with a jolt that the space had changed. The bright lights had sharpened and defined themselves into lines. There was a large reception desk along a wall that was lined with drawer upon drawer.
"The portkey office, at the Ministry."
"Interesting." Draco wanted to know what Dumbledore saw, but he didn't dare ask. He hadn't had the closest relationship with the headmaster — that had been Harry — and he felt awkward being here with just the two of them, particularly as Dumbledore had found him naked. But he wanted answers, so he squared his shoulders and faced the man.
"Professor," Draco said. "Am I dead?" Dumbledore looked at him appraisingly.
"Yes. But also no." Well, that explained nothing.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You did die," Dumbledore said. "But it appears that you died in possession of the three Deathly Hallows, which means that you haven't actually died."
"I— what?" Dumbledore heaved a great sigh. He walked over to one of the benches in the office and sat down on it. Draco hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the other end of the bench.
"Do you know the story of the Three Brothers?" Dumbledore asked, turning to face Draco.
"From Beedle the Bard?" Draco had no idea where Dumbledore was going with this talk of a children's tale. He wanted to know how he was dead but not dead and what that meant for him. And he wanted to ask about Harry.
"Do you remember the three items that Death gave the brothers?"
"The wand, the stone and the cloak," Draco said immediately, playing along in the hopes he would get some answers.
"The three of them make up the Deathly Hallows, which when combined, make the possessor, in this case you, the master of Death."
"But it's just a children's tale," Draco protested.
"And yet," Dumbledore said. "Here you are." Draco frowned and stared down at his feet, which were still bare, his head spinning. Technically, yes, here he was, but he still wasn't sure what that meant.
"But how?" he asked. He wasn't asking Dumbledore, more just wondering aloud, but Dumbledore took it as a question.
"Harry gave you his invisibility cloak and that ring, did he not?" Draco looked down and found the amulet still hanging around his neck.
"He did."
"And presumably you disarmed the person who had my wand. The wand I gave to Harry." Draco could hear a definite note of irritation in Dumbledore's voice now. Draco stood up and began to pace, still staring at his feet.
"I didn't realize there would be a problem with that," Draco said. Not for the first time, he wished that Dumbledore explained, well, anything better while he was alive. If he hadn't wanted Draco to have these things, why hadn't he told that to Harry, who he'd clearly wanted to have the three things.
"Thus, you were the master of the Elder wand, in possession of the resurrection stone, which sits around your neck, and in possession of Death's cloak of invisibility when you died. Making you, Draco Malfoy, the master of Death." Draco said nothing, though he stopped pacing. He stared at Dumbledore, wondering if he was going to keep talking, or if he'd have to ask more questions.
There was a faint popping noise and both Draco and Dumbledore turned around, confused. Harry was lying at the end of the portkey hall, also naked. Not far from him there was what appeared to be a very ugly baby-looking thing that started wailing as soon as it appeared.
"Harry," Draco cried. He ran to him and knelt down beside him, covering Harry's nakedness with his own robes until a set appeared for him. Slowly, Harry's eyes blinked open. "Harry." Draco put a hand to his cheek and stroked it while Harry came more to his senses.
"Hi," Harry said, his eyes bright and hopeful. "Are you real?"
"I think so." Harry sat up and his eyes filled with tears, even as he grinned at Draco. "Here," he said, handing the new set of robes to Harry. Then he stood up in order to give Harry more space to get dressed.
"I can't believe you're real," Harry said, reaching out to take Draco's proffered hand. Draco pulled him upright.
"Dumbledore said I died," he said, biting his lower lip. He still couldn't quite believe it. Even if Dumbledore had also said he hadn't actually died.
"You did," Harry said, pulling Draco into a bone crushing hug. "But you're here! I don't understand. It was so awful. I lost you and—" Harry choked back a sob and hugged Draco even tighter. "Don't ever do that to me again."
"Does this mean that you died too?"
"It would appear so," Dumbledore said. Draco's heart sank. Dumbledore had walked over to them in the time that it had taken Harry to dress and stand up and was now looking thoughtfully at the two of them. "But he's also not dead." Harry released Draco and they both turned to stare Dumbledore.
"So we're both in this weird dead but not dead limbo?" Draco asked.
"It would appear so," Dumbledore said. The irritation was gone from his tone and he was looking thoughtfully at Harry. "Draco, tell me, how did you die?"
"I, uh, threw myself in front of Harry when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named shot a killing curse at him."
"You sacrificed yourself for him?"
"You could put it that way," Draco said. He looked down at his feet again, uncomfortable.
"You love him that much?"
"This is an awkward conversation to have at the best of times," Draco said. "It's even harder to have in front of one's boyfriend who is standing right there." Harry made a noise that was half sob, half amused snort. Draco reached out and threaded his fingers through Harry's.
"Amazing," Dumbledore said quietly. "Love. The ultimate protection. Again. Harry, my boy, you are one very lucky one man. It's saved your life again."
"But that wasn't your original plan?" Draco asked.
"No," Dumbledore said. "It was not."
"Let me guess," Draco said. "You were planning on him being in possession of the three Hallow things, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Because you knew he might die." It was not a question. Dumbledore shook his head and Draco frowned.
"Because I knew he had to," Dumbledore said. Draco's eyebrows shot up. Beside him, he heard Harry gasp.
"I'm sorry — what the fuck?" Draco asked.
"Harry was, I believe, an unintended horcrux," Dumbledore explained.
"So you fucking prepared for him to die? Like fattening a lamb for the slaughter?" Draco was suddenly so angry that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, even though he wasn't even sure if he had physical body on this plane.
"I prepared for him to be the Master of Death, which would allow him to live again."
"Still a sacrificial lamb," Draco said. He took a step towards Dumbledore, his free fist coming up of its own accord. "And we bloody trusted you."
"Mr. Malfoy."
"No," Draco snapped. "You manipulated us and I have every right to be upset about it. Was there no other way to get the horcrux out of him? Nothing that would have worked? No rituals, or potions, or purification rites?"
"Very little is known about horcruxes, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore sounded distinctly peeved again. "I did what I thought would be best given what we know about them, and given the small amount of time that we had."
"Exactly how long have you thought he was a horcrux?" Draco shot back. If he'd had a wand, he would have been pointing it at Dumbledore, though given how angry he was, it was probably a good thing that he didn't have one. He might have actually killed Dumbledore, the way that he'd been tasked to. Harry was still holding onto his hand, and he squeezed it now. Draco turned to look at him for a quick moment, but Harry's face wasn't reproachful. Instead he seemed almost grateful that Draco had taken the lead in angrily questioning their former headmaster.
"I started to suspect that he might harbor a piece of Voldemort's soul when despite his best efforts at Occlumency last year, Voldemort still managed to infiltrate his dreams." Draco frowned. He didn't know much about Harry's Occlumency lessons from the year before, aside from the fact that Harry had struggled to learn the skill.
"And how long ago was that?"
"Mid-January," Harry supplied.
"So it's been a year and a half? Merlin. If your chocolate frog card is to be believed you came up with the twelve uses for dragon's blood in less time."
"I understand that you're upset," Dumbledore started to say.
"Upset? Upset? I'm fucking furious." He pulled his hand out of Harry's and walked up to Dumbledore, getting right up in his face. "You didn't tell us any of this."
"And what would you have done if I had?" Dumbledore asked. This close, Draco could see every line in his face and Draco was struck by how very old he looked. At Dumbledore's words, Draco faltered. He didn't know what he would have done. Researched it more, he supposed. He said as much. "And you think that I didn't? This was never my intention. It was the back up plan, the last ditch hope, while I searched for another way."
"Because I had to be the one to kill him," Harry said quietly. "Right? So you knew I had to face him." Dumbledore nodded. "Which, uh, Professor. Is that him? Over there? That baby thing?" He pointed at the wailing bundle.
"I believe so, Harry."
"So he's not dead either?"
"It appears that way."
"Which means I have to go back." Draco had assumed they would go back, but he kept quiet and let Harry and Dumbledore continue their back and forth.
"If that is what you wish to do."
"What happens if I don't?" Draco hoped Harry was asking in a hypothetical sense because if Harry wasn't going back, Draco wasn't either. And he wasn't really ready to be dead.
"Someone else will undoubtedly try to finish the job," Dumbledore said. Draco noticed that he didn't say they would succeed.
"Professor," Harry said quietly. "I'm not sure I can kill him. It— I— someone said you needed to really mean an Unforgivable, and I just— I don't know if I can do that."
"There are other ways to kill a man than magic, Harry."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying just that."
"No," Harry said, stamping his foot. "Enough riddles. Tell me what you mean." Dumbledore smiled in a way that seemed to say that it was a fair demand.
"I mean, he's mortal now. You could stab him with a knife, or drop a pile of rocks on him." Harry looked blankly at him. "Honestly, Harry. Have you never read a single murder mystery?" Harry shook his head.
"Do you have a basilisk fang on you?" Draco asked. "I mean, not here, but on your actual body?"
"That would work," Dumbledore said.
"I can't believe we're just standing here calmly plotting a murder," Harry huffed.
"Is it a murder?" Draco asked. "Or is it an assassination?" Harry frowned at him.
"It's certainly for the greater good," he said slowly.
"And you've got me to help you."
"But I have to do it," Harry said. Draco cocked his head to the side in confusion. "The prophecy."
"Right. That," Draco said. He nodded slowly. "So, I disarm him and punch him in the face while you come in with the fang."
"What's the punch in the face for?" Harry asked.
"For fucking killing both of us." Dumbledore by this point had taken several steps backward and seemed content to let them talk it through, just the two of them.
"That sounds fair."
"Or, we could stun him?"
"A punch to the face sounds more satisfying," Harry said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Though you won't be able to break his nose because he doesn't have one." Draco snorted and he was almost sure he heard Dumbledore try to rein in a chuckle. Harry turned to Dumbledore.
"Uh, Professor," he said. "Is the bit of his soul that was in me, gone? If I was a horcrux?"
"Oh yes," Dumbledore said. Draco wasn't sure how he knew, but maybe it was a thing he could tell as someone who was properly dead. "Your soul is entirely your own. Voldemort destroyed the bit of his that was in you, which is ironic as he'd meant to destroy you instead."
"So why is he not dead-dead?" Draco asked. "If Harry was the last horcrux?"
"I take it you killed Nagini?"
"Er," Harry said. "I don't know. I think so? That was Ron's job, but I don't know if he managed it before Voldemort found me."
"Let us assume that Mr. Weasley accomplished his task," Dumbledore said. "Why might he have survived?"
"The socratic method? At a time like this?" Draco asked. He wasn't sure but he thought he saw Dumbledore's mouth twitch in amusement.
"Mr. Malfoy, I ask not to make it a teaching moment, but because I myself do not know."
"What's your theory though?" Draco asked. "I assume you have one." Dumbledore sighed.
"It's tricky, but I think that because some of Harry's blood lives in Voldemort, that Harry's not being dead is tethering him to life."
"Then how am I supposed to kill him?" Harry snapped. "If my blood keeps him alive?"
"This, Harry, is precisely why you have to be the one to bring him down," Dumbledore said. He reached out a hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder. Draco resisted the urge to practice his punch on Dumbledore.
"But don't we both have to be dead?"
"No, I do not believe so. Not now that you have Mr. Malfoy's protection." They were interrupted at that point by the Voldemort-baby giving an almighty shriek. They all turned to look at it. Draco's lip curled in revulsion. As they stared, the thing began to thrash around, its screams becoming louder and more desperate.
"What's it doing?" Harry asked.
"I think this is a sign that his body is under duress in the physical world."
"Does this mean we should go back now?"
"I should think so." Harry nodded, his lips drawn into a tight line. Draco reached out and took his hand.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go finish the bastard."