As the day grew darker, they pulled their horses to a halt and started to set up camp. When at least the tent was set, they sat down and started to make a fire, as Harry belated began to speak.
"My turn now." Harry said, at once with relish and a need to deflect. "You remember I had told you about Snape trying to get the Stone?"
Draco nodded mutely, his near-automatic protests quelled by the sudden seriousness of Harry Potter's mien and bearing.
"Well, you were there when we found the unicorn's blood." Harry said without his usual ebullient expression. "Terrible thing to do - that, curse yourself for a bit more time to live. Who else would do that other than Voldemort?" Harry asked rhetorically.
Draco Malfoy looked uncharacteristically blue - his pallor whitening past his normal paleness, "But - he's dead! He's...!" Looking at him with somber eyes, Harry shook his head slowly in the negative. Draco suddenly felt the need to do something. Anything. He had thought - Potter was surely joking when he'd said - Potter had really thought that Draco Malfoy might be out to kill him! And, blithering idiot that he was, Potter had asked him if that was his plan. Draco mutely noticed that his hands were shaking.
Harry paused for a moment, seeming to school his expression to seriousness. "So, we figured it was Voldemort, in league with Snape, trying to get the Philosopher's Stone to get eternal life."
Draco mutely thought that it made a good deal of sense, that theory - if you were of the opinion that the Dark Lord wasn't truly dead. Otherwise... who had gone after the unicorn? That was a fool's bargain if Draco had ever heard one.
"After the exams, we heard that Dumbledore was leaving Hogwarts for a meeting - and, of course, that sounded like the best time to go after the Stone." Harry shook his head at Draco, resembling a black labrador shaking his fur. "So, naturally, we had to get it before Voldemort did. Because he knew where it was - we figured Snape had told him- and would be coming for it presently."
"You... decided to get it out of wherever Dumbledore had put it for safekeeping?" Draco asked, his jaw fighting to drop - Draco stopped it with an act of will.
"Yeah. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Beside, McGonagall wouldn't listen to us at all!"
"What did you say to her?"
"McGonagall! We think that Snape's going to try to steal the Stone - to give to Voldemort, probably." Harry repeated, his voice uncannily mimicking three scared firsties.
"Oi, I'm not surprised that didn't work. You're lucky you didn't get into trouble for even knowing about it." Draco said wisely.
"It wasn't all that difficult to get down to the Stone, really." Harry potter said, his brow starting to furrow. "There were lots of things - but they were all easy to get past. Hagrid's pipe and some music got us past Fluffy." Draco shook his head again at the impossibly plausible name for the Cerberous. "Hermione knew how to get us out of the Devil's Snare - after it had taken us down past Fluffy. I could fly to catch the correct key to open the right door - just like a snitch. And Ron, ron knew how to play chess."
Draco's mouth had unconsciously tightened, as he thought about everything there. It seemed like a strange and perfect madness - the absolute calling card of one Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"The last puzzle was Snape's of course - logic, of all things. And it would only let one of us through. I had to go - Ron was already hurt, and Hermione needed to be there to explain, in case of trouble."
"Because she's very good at looking right even when she's not?" Draco asked wryly, for once more distracted by the story than by Granger's name and his unholy hatred for the bossy wench.
"Yeah. Anyway, I went through the final door... and there was Professor Quirrel."
"Professor Quirrel?" Draco Malfoy asked, his grey eyes flashing with unnamed emotion.
"Yeah, which understandably surprised me, as I'd been expecting Professor Snape." Harry paused, taking a quick,deep breath. "And the mirror was there, too."
"The Mirror of Erised?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, that. Apparently Quirrel didn't see what he wanted to in it, because he asked what I saw." Harry Potter said, his face once again full of that green-eyed grin that Draco Malfoy had so often longed to punch (he wasn't happy, why should Potter get to be so happy?).
"I lied, of course, telling him about the Quiddich Cup - that'd always been what Ron saw, anyways."
Draco rolled his eyes, and said without heat, "Typical."
"I heard a breathless voice, coming from behind Quirrel - though there was no one there." Harry said, pausing for a moment. "It said I was lying - which I was, but that didn't stop my heart from being in my throat at the time."
"Hadn't thought they might be invisible?" Draco mused.
"I grew up Muggle! I didn't think that! Probably should've though..." Harry mused tightly.
"The voice asked Quirrel to take off his turban..." Harry said, looking somber and serious again.
"When Quirrel turned around - there was a second face attached to his head. Voldemort."
Draco's eyes were wide as platters, and he muttered furiously at Harry, "He's not dead, how can he not be dead - what is going on?"
Draco's eyes flicked left, winding up staring hard at the now-lit fire. "That bleedin' bastard. He's known. He's always known!"
Harry Potter wore a look of utter incomprehension, "Who? What?" If Draco Malfoy hadn't wanted to talk, he hadn't needed to start. But if he thought he was just going to utter lines like that, and not get questioned on them...
"My godfather." Draco Malfoy looked down at his lap, before bringing eyes that seemed to have a glint of madness in them to bear on Harry Potter's uncomprehending face.
"Every year at Yule, at the turning from one year to the next, he'd raise a toast, 'To old times!' he'd say." Draco said, his voice almost numb with the force of remembering.
"And my father would respond, 'Best buried and forgotten.' " Draco spat, his face turning furiously red - as red as Harry's, when his friends had been insulted. A look Harry had never thought to see on Draco Malfoy's face.
"And then he'd smirk - every single time. Like he knew something that we didn't. That my father didn't." Draco Malfoy's face had gone blue-white.
Harry, on the other hand, was mentally reviewing what Draco had just said - and more importantly, how he had said it. Because something rang in his head -
Harry suddenly sat up. "Your godfather's Snape!" Harry's eyes were wide, and his voice robbed of any emotion other than that of discovery.
Absentmindedy, Draco responded quietly, "Yeah, I thought you knew. I told everyone my first week at Hogwarts."
"We weren't talking at the time, remember?" Harry snapped back, his focus briefly diverted. Seconds later, he was booting a rock into the fire. "I am such an idiot! I should have figured that out! It should have been obvious." The black dog had slunk near, and was pushing his head under his hand, the big, still lean enough to be worrisome body pushing him away from the fire. "Of course it'd been Snape, of all people, who had a grudge against my father. Snape!" Harry Potter turned, only half because the dog was pushing him to - and stared, his rage at himself draining down into his boots, spilling out of him like a shadow.
Because there was Draco Malfoy, white-blue and shaking. The look in his eyes was both baffled and hopeless. "He knew." Draco said, his voice unwavering, "He bloody well knew."
"Draco, what's wrong?" Harry Potter asked, sitting beside him and not looking in his eyes. Before them, the black dog lay down in front of the fire, giving a tired whuffle at the warmth on its paws.
Draco continued to stare into the fire, "By all rights, I should go back. My father needs to be told. It's my duty. It's my responsibility." Draco Malfoy turned those hopeless eyes on Harry Potter, and said, "but I can't. I can't do it. I can't go back, not even for this."
Harry Potter was left with the very disquieting idea that whatever was going on with Draco Malfoy was a bit bigger than either of them were capable of dealing with. Like a secret that would explode with the telling, rather than unravel peacefully. And, paradoxically, this made Harry Potter quite a bit more likely to help Draco with his madcap plan to hide in the Muggle world. Because if they couldn't deal with it... who would?
"I hurt Voldemort that day, burnt him badly. Quirrel died when I put my hands on him - but Dumbledore said that Voldemort won't die so easily." Harry Potter said. Draco Malfoy made no reply, just staring blankly into the fire. Perhaps realizing that Draco wasn't paying attention, yet compelled to go on, Harry Potter said brokenly, "It was my mum. Her sacrifice made it so... he couldn't stand the touch of me." The big black dog raised his head, turning it towards his two shaky charges, emotions swirling through his nose, as he slowly wagged his tail - a reassurance for two lost boys alone on the gusty moor.
[a/n: Well! Here's to the Second Day of Freedom! Or whatever you want to call Harry and Draco being outside Hogwarts. This chapter was one of the main reasons Harry and Draco are exchanging stories.
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