I kid you. This past week I've going back and forth behind leaving the chapter as it is or combining more. Finally decided to go with how it is. Hope you enjoy. And I'm more nervous about this chapter since I mostly typed it up instead of writing everything done and taking it to the computer so I hope it came out good.


Chapter 36: The key, the key. Lies in the gillyweed

The year ended off with an outrageous winter and constant surprises, one falling right after the other that carried over to the New Year.

January was meant for new beginnings, but it was hard to wipe the slate clean when drama from the previous year was still lurking over their heads despite their attempts to ignore and move on. February, the coldest month of the year where Mother Nature unleashed storm upon storm of snow, was easier to settle into and attempt to move on-and that was only because Harry had bigger things to worry about.

For the past few months, four main thoughts have been spinning around in Harry's head.

First was the second task. It was pure coincidence on how he got the egg to finally open. Cedric came up to Harry after he rushed out of the Great Hall and placed a hand on his shoulder to make him stop. With a gentle smile, he told him to think things over with a bath, advising him to bring the egg with him, but he never mentioned how to go about opening the egg. Harry placed it beside him before he slipped into the large tub overflowing with bubbles, enjoying the hot water that managed to take his mind off things. Away from breakfast, away from Draco.

He must have been more relaxed than he thought he was because the next thing he knew, his arm hit against something that fell into the water, and his eyes snapped open at the sound of gurgled voices. It was like buckets of paint fell into the water, filling it with different colors. Blue, purple, light pink. Underneath the mass of colors was the gurgling sound, words to a song he couldn't distinguish through the water.

He slid under the surface, cocooned in a chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the egg.

Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past the hour-the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back

He wondered if the judges thought it would be fun to add an element trait to the tasks. The first one, the champions had to battle their way through fire, compliments to the fire-breathing dragons. Now water.

It didn't take Harry long to figure out the next task had to do with the lake, which would be the only place big enough and-to be honest-sensible enough to use as a setting, and that it involved the mermaids. It helped that the beautiful mermaid swimming around in the portrait of the perfects' bathroom giggled and flipped her tail excitedly as he listened to the song over again, breaking apart the lyrics until he got the full interception.

The second thing was what happened after the bath. He opened the Marauders' Map to figure out the best way to get back to his dorm and was stunned when he saw a name moving close by Severus's office. Bartemius Crouch.

But that made no sense. Mr. Crouch was supposed to be too ill to go to work. He was too ill to come to the Yule Ball. Many of teachers, including Dumbledore, were surprised by his lack of attendance. So what was he doing, sneaking into Hogwarts so late? Harry watched closely as the dot moved around the room, pausing here and there.

Harry hesitated, spilt between two thoughts. One that told him he should mind his business and go back to his room. The other that grew more curious watching the dot move around, wondering what the man could be up to. Against better judgment, Harry went with the second option, heading to the nearest staircase, walking as quietly as possible to Severus's office.

He only managed to get so far before he was cornered, tailed by Mrs. Norris who may not have seen him thanks to the Invisibility Cloak but sensed that there was something hiding by the alcove, prowling closer and closer to him. She only backed off, skidding away when her ears picked up the dangerous undertone in Severus's snarl.

Harry couldn't blame her. He was just as terrified, even more so when Severus came into view, his face taking on a violent red color, the vein in his temple pulsing more rapidly when Moody, who Harry hadn't realized was standing there till he stepped closer, implied that there was more than just potion ingredients in Severus's office.

"You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody," he said in a soft voice that made the hairs on Harry's neck stand. "as you've searched my office quite thoroughly."

Harry made out the faint, odd smile twisting Moody's face. "Auror Privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye-"

"Dumbledore happens to trust me," said Severus through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!"

"'Course Dumbledore trusts you," growled Moody. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me-I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"

His uncle suddenly did something very strange. He seized his left forearm convulsively with his right hand, as though something on it had hurt him.

Harry leaned closer, but then Moody's good eye shifted over to the alcove he was hiding in, looking right at him as if he could see him.

"Best be on your way, Snape," Moody said, his eyes fixed on Harry. "I've passed by that Peeves ghost. Seems awfully fond of you."

Severus balled his fists so tight, Harry could have sworn that he could hear the bone breaking. He shot Moody a lethal glare and strode down the hall.

Harry held his breath, commanding his body not to move even an inch when Moody's eye stared at him, feeling like a mouse caged in by a cat. He had no idea how long they stayed in that position. Could have been minutes, could have hours. All Harry knew was that it felt like a sweet reckoning from Merlin himself when Moody directed his gaze to the front and hobbled down the hall, going the opposite direction Snape took. That was when he was finally able to draw breath, relieving his burning lungs that were dying for air, relaxing his body that felt stiff as a statue.

His head was spinning with questions over what he just heard as he walked back to his room, quickly and quietly, where another tensed conversation was waiting for him.

A soft tap against the shoulder brought Harry back to the present. He blinked once, twice, and studied his surroundings. To his left, Hermione's eyes were scanning the contents of the three thick books laid out in front of her, her bushy hair more fizzy than usual from all the scratching she's done for the past few hours, muttering to herself as she read. To his right, Theo who was the one who tapped him gestured to the books stacked in front of Harry before returning to his own pile. Half of which that were stacked into a tall tower, the other half which was spread open, his eyes jumping from the pages of one book to the next. Across from him, Ron looked like he was half-reading, half-dozing with his book.

Not that Harry could blame him. They've been in the library since two and a quick glance at the clock told him it was just after nine.

All of them resembled the same emotions bouncing rapidly inside him like frenzied Bugler balls. The night before the second task and Harry felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare-a numbing, head-killing, tiring nightmare. It's been months since he figured out the second task and still he hadn't find the right spell or charm that would help him breathe underwater. He cursed him for letting his mind wander during class, figuring the professor must have discussed a long-lasting water charm that he tuned out.

He and his friends have been in the library every day since Boxing Day, hours spent hunched over books, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from one another by the massive piles of books on the desk. Harry's heart gave a huge leap every time he saw the word "water" on a page, but more often than not it was merely "Take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt..."

"I don't reckon it can be done," said Ron flatly. "There's nothing. Nothing. Closest thing was that trick to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake."

"There must be something," Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms with her nose about an inch from the page. "They'd never have set a task that was undoable."

"Well, now they have." Ron yawned into his fist before stretching out his stiff limbs. "Look, Harry, all else fails, just go down into the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, and yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate."

Harry's response was a groan as he rested his forehead against his hand. Hermione rolled her eyes. Theo laid down his book and looked at Ron, his thick brow arched high.

"When you talk, Weasley," he asked. "Do you hear it or is there a big roaring in your ear?"

Ron glowered at him.

Hermione shook her head and went back to her books. "There's a way of doing it!" she said. "There just has to be!"

"And there is," Theo insisted, his tone just a tab bit more relaxed compared to Hermione's. "we just haven't found it yet."

Hermione didn't look too convinced, her lips pursed as she flipped through the pages of her books, shaking her head. She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before. Theo refused to give up on it, believing the library will come through for them.

"I know what I should have done," said Harry, resting, facedown, on Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius."

"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" Ron said.

Theo pinched the edge of his nose, growling, "Weasley, ears, clean them."

"Shut it, Nott!"

"Or a frog." Harry yawned. He was exhausted.

"It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything." Hermione said vaguely, now squinting down the index of Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. "Professor McGonagall told us, remember…you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office…what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it…"

"Hermione, I was joking," said Harry wearily. "I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning."

"I still vote for the sticking head in and demanding the thing back notion." Ron said.

"Weasley. Mouth. Shut." Theo was clearly at the end of his rope. He shot Harry a look that said why on earth was Ron was here with him that Harry answered back with a one-shoulder shrug.

Ron was still on a thin ice with Harry over the month-long cold shoulder treatment and was trying to patch things up between them. He went after Cormac McLaggen who was still sneering at Harry, thinking he cheated his way, threatening to turn the boy into a leech. He caught up with Harry , carrying hundreds of copies of Rita Skeeter's latest article in his arms, suggesting with a wink that they make a bonfire. He apologized to Hermione the morning after the ball for the way he acted, though Harry noticed that the look on his face was a sour one and that it took a couple of side-elbowing from Harry for the words to come out. After charms, he volunteered to help Harry and the others research a way to breathe underwater, and who was Harry to deny offered help? They needed a fresh set of eyes.

"Oh, this is no use," Hermione said, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hairs grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," Fred chimed in. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Harry, Hermione, Theo, and Ron looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from the bookshelves.

"What are you two doing here?" Ron asked.

"Looking for one Miss Hermione Granger," George said, looking down at her. "McGonagall wants you."

"Me?" Hermione asked at the same time Ron said, "Why?"

"Dunno…she was looking a bit grim, though." Fred said.

"We're suppose to take you down to her office," George said.

Hermione slowly rose from her seat, gathering her things. "I'll meet you boys as soon as I can." Harry spotted anxiety marring her face as she followed the twins out.

"Weird," Ron commented as soon as they were gone. "What do you think McGonagall wanted Hermione for?"

"The exact opposite for what Moody wants with him." Theo answered.

Confused, Harry turned to the direction of Theo's head jerk, a pang slitting across his chest as he watched Moody lead a sour-face Draco out of the library, away from his assignments and his study partner, a pretty auburn-haired Slytherin whose appearance made the slit wound widened that looked just as disappointed by his departure as Draco was annoyed by it.

"Wonder what Malfoy did this time?" Ron said.

His mouth pinched into a tight scowl, Theo returned his attention back to the books. "What he always does best: run his mouth."

Harry said nothing, watching them go, eyes focused on the fourth thing that's been on his mind. He only looked away when Draco turned back once, as if he could feel Harry's gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

It doesn't matter, he told himself. It doesn't matter. If only he could believe those words, then his life would been so much easier.

Given everything that was going on, the fact the second task was rumored to be more challenging than the first, the fact the stakes were higher since all bets were on Harry and he needed to top his performance from the dragon, now of all times would be when he needed his best friend the most. But it was hard to be around him when it hurt too much.

Maybe hurt was a tad dramatic but it was the best Harry could come how with, the best word to describe how he felt when Theo made his little morning announcement. When he saw Pansy's face going white, Draco's eyes pointedly looking the other direction, remembering how much of a mess he looked and finally understanding why he did. When Draco scoffed at him for trying to get answers, brushing him off, saying all kisses were the same and unimportant. It was as if someone jabbed a knife into Harry's back, getting him right in the chest, the knife twisting slowly, painfully, the longer he sat at the table. The more memories from their moment together merged with images of Draco and Pansy entangled in each other, mouths fused together flashed through his head, turning his stomach.

He bolted from the Great Hall quickly, feeling as though he was seconds away from throwing up.

Harry actually was grateful to Cedric for coming up and giving him the hint about the bath. Time in the prefects' bathroom, lounging in the large porcelain tub helped him forget about what happened. Until he came back to the room and Draco somehow smelled Cedric's scent on him, implying something else went on between them other than exchanged tips.

And just like that, the knife inserted itself-deeply, painfully-into his body, making breathing almost difficult. At that moment, Harry wanted to share that pain. He wanted to hurt Draco. He wanted to hurt him more than he ever wanted anything else in his life.

He had done just that, using his own words against him. It didn't make him feel any better though. If anything, it worsened the pain. The sort of pain the weighed down heavily like an elephant standing on his shoulders, on his chest. A sort of pain that couldn't be washed away in a long, hot shower. The type sleep couldn't cure, causing him to toss and turn throughout the night, those images of Draco and Pansy together playing over and over again.

Harry had hoped Draco would say something, anything. Explain to him what had happened. Help him understand. Make those images stopped. But the next morning, Draco looked at him, opened his mouth, and then shut it, shaking his head and crawling out of the bed to head to the bathroom. The knife in Harry's chest changed into a fist, a tight fist slowly crushing his heart into pulp.

Since then they…they-they….well, whatever going on between them was much better, far calmer compared to how things were faring with Draco and Theo. The few times Draco actually tried to Theo, Theo shot him venomous looks that promised long hours of unbearable torture before death and quickly Draco fired his own lethal glares back at the boy, happy to oblige to the silence. Still, their spat was much better compared to Pansy and Theo. Before the two were constantly at each other's throats, snarling like rapid dogs. Now, silence hung over them, Theo diving himself more into books, Pansy spending time with Daphne and ignoring the whispers and snickers, staying as far as each other as possible, pretending the other didn't exist. Before Harry would have considered a quiet Theo and Pansy a miracle, but now he was cautions about their silence. Their heavy, tense, suffocating silence that was a semi-calmness cover meant to hide a massive storm that would rip them all apart.

Harry hoped that they'd be miles away from sight when that storm hit.

As for him and Draco, they weren't fighting. They weren't shooting each other dark looks. They weren't ignoring each other. They were just…existing. They slept in their rooms without complaint, sometimes even in the same bed if the other was too tired to make the journey to his own even though they slept at opposite sides, strictly keeping themselves to their own spaces. They hung out with each other, though that usually was with another friend and lately that's been happening less with Harry dedicating most of his time to prep for the second task and Draco tending to his growing fan-club in which one to several members were usually seen hanging off his arm. They still talked, but it was usually cool and polite, the sort of stiff conversation you had with someone for the sake of time.

Things were fine, normal almost. As normal as it can be with a huge elegant dangling over them that refused to go away. As normal as it can be when the knife was still in his chest, still twisting as Draco's dismal played over in his head, the memory of what happened between them after the ball that was now tainted since that was a duplicate of what went on earlier. A possibly piss-poor, stupid duplicate that didn't mean anything.

It doesn't matter, Harry told himself. It doesn't matter.

Only it did. And he had no idea why.

They were best friends-just best friends. The only thing they owed each other was trust, loyalty. Draco owe nothing more than that to Harry and he the same. They were free to be with other people. In fact they had. Harry nursed a few crushes he was willing to pursue such as Cho and had a fun but brief summer romance with Kilia. Draco had his own fun in the retreat. So why was this time so different? Why did it hurt so much to look at Draco now? To look at Pansy? Was it because instead of it being a stranger, Draco was with someone they both knew, a girl they've known most of their lives that Harry thought till then they both saw as a sister?

"They're gone." Theo said.

Harry gave a weak nod in thanks and then met Ron's questioning eyes.

"Do I even want to know?"

"No."

Ron nodded and went back to reading. Harry had never been more grateful to him.

Around midnight, Ron finally called it a night, claiming there was only reading his brain could handle before it shut down. Hermione still hadn't come back from her meeting with McGonagall. Most likely she decided to go with Ron's approach and get some sleep. Harry and Theo were at their wit's ends, going through more than half of books that covered water and spells around it, finding some charms that only lasted a few minutes but nothing that was helpful.

"This is hopeless." Harry shut the book in his hands and shoved it aside, using more force than necessary. Madame Pince shot him a warning glare.

"You're giving up too easily." Theo complained, despite the fact his own frown grew tighter with every passing hour.

"Maybe we're going about this wrong." Harry rubbed his eyes. Hours spent hunched over books, flipping through thousands of pages, took a toll on them. "At this point, I might as well try my luck with an air bubble. Or offer the mermaids seed-weed as a trade off."

"Sure," Theo commented. "And while you're back it, present them with the nicest flower from the gardens and give them a nice snog for extra measure."

"You know," Harry looked up to see Neville standing across from them, an excited grin on his face. "If you're interested in plants, you should use Goshawk's Guide to Herbology." His excitement grew as he explained. "There's someone in Tibet who's growing gravity resistant trees-"

"Neville, no offense," Harry wasn't sure if was exhaustion from little sleep, frustration from hours spent finding nothing, or both but he felt his patience at it's' wit end. "But I really don't care about plants. Now, if there's a Tibetan turnip that will help breathe underwear for an hour, great. But otherwise-"

Neville took a step forward, his expression bemused, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know about turnips, but you could always use gillyweed."

Harry stared at him as if Neville had spoken pig-Latin. "Gillyweed?"

"Gillyweed?" Theo echoed, sounding just as stunned.

"Yea," Neville said. "The taste isn't exactly great but it gives you the abilities of a fish and should last enough to help you."

"That...that's brilliant." Harry said. "Neville, you're a genius."

A beam of pride came over his face.

Theo's mouth dropped open and his arms fell limply to his sides. He looked like he wasn't sure whether he should be annoyed that Neville managed to find the answer they spent weeks looking for or impressed that he came up with it so quickly. "Well," he finally said once he retrieved his slacked jaw. "Seems Granger isn't the only Gryffindor with a functioning brain after all."


Harry dreamt about the mermaid in the painting in the prefects' bathroom, her beautiful face wicked, eyes cold, laughing at him. He was bobbling like a cork in a bubbly water next to her rock while she held his Firebolt over his head.

"Come and get it!" she giggled maliciously. "Come on, jump!"

"I can't," Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and struggling not to sink. "Give it back!"

She pulled the broom higher and opened her mouth wide. Only instead of cruel laughter, a different sort of sound emerged, a loud, obnoxious sound that belonged to members of a marching band, the instruments, especially the horn-blaring. Growing louder and louder till he felt like his skull shaking from the sound, his ears ringing.

Harry yelped and fell off the couch when the marching band came closer to him, blowing a sharp key directly into his eardrum.

"Argh," he miserably groaned from the ringing bouncing around his skull and the too-bright, much too-early morning sunlight that flooded the room. His backside and arse throbbing from the graceless fell; he rubbed his ears to quiet the sound.

He looked up to find that the enthusiastic horn-player to be Blaise playing a cheerful tune on the golden instrument and meeting Harry's glare with a smile.

"Morning, Potter." He grinned. "I give you your AM wake-up call."

Harry was so tired last night from their library session and helping Neville prepare the gillyweed that when Theo offered the couch in his dorm, he didn't think much of it. Now, with his back sore, ears still ringing, he wished he made the extra few steps to his room.

He looked over at Theo who slowly rose from his bed, hair askew, the look of irritation and murder swirling in his eyes. "You deal with this?"

"Every. Single. Morning." Theo hissed through clenched teeth.

Groaning, Harry said to Blaise, "You know you could always shake us awake."

Blaise shrugged. "True but where's the fun in that?" With that said, he broke out into another cheer, painfully-loud tune.

After resisting the urge to shove the horn down Blaise's throat, Harry pulled himself off the ground and went to his room to get ready, a sense of dread stirring inside his stomach like cement. The last task, he barely managed to get a few bites down without his stomach hurting from the nerves. Now, it was a struggle to brush his teeth with his hands so shaky. He tried to calm himself, remind himself that he did well in the last task. But rationally pointed out that sheer luck came through in the end. It was hard to see how it would play out underwater.

What if something went wrong like it did with his broom? What if the gillyweed only got him to the bottom of the lake and then failed on him? What if the gillyweed's power wore out before he could get back what was stolen? What if he had to fight a band of mermaids?

Grumbling to himself, Harry took a quick shower, which seemed ridiculous since in awhile he'd been soaked in seawater but calmed a bit of his nerves. He pulled on a sleeveless green shirt and his swim trunks he covered with a jacket and sweatpants.

He met the others in the common room. Goyle and Crabbe were still half-asleep, leaning against each other. Daphne waved at him, then elbowed Blaise in the side for the likely-wicked comment he whispered in her ears. Theo still looked vexed from the horn wake-up call. Pansy, who was sitting at the far opposite end, shot him a tentative smile that Harry softly returned.

It would have been too easy to furious at her, but Harry couldn't. Pansy was a good friend, one of the first who had been taken by him when Draco introduced him to the group when they were kids. She was also still going through her own turmoil with Draco, though the two remained friendly with each other, Theo whom she pretended was a speck of dirt, and most of the school. People still talked about what happened after the Yule Ball. Guys still came up to her, wanting to see if there was a confirmation to those rumors. Coming across Cormac McLaggen smirking at her as he cornered her and hexing his arse for getting too close pushed aside any anger Harry might have felt.

"Ready for your early-morning swim, darling?" She asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"As long as Longbottom remembers to bring the gillyweed to the lake, you should be fine." Theo said.

Blaise's left brow arched. "You are aware you're referring to the same boy who was given a rememberall and didn't have a clue on how to use it, right?"

Harry would have glared at him if he didn't notice that something was off, though it was hard to put his finger on it. He scanned his friends, Goyle and Crabbe's exhausted faces, Pansy checking her nails, Daphne rolling her eyes at Blaise. A knot began twisting in his stomach as he noticed the lack of white-blond hair.

"Where's Draco?"

"Isn't he in your room?" Daphne frowned.

He shook his head. He was surprised to find the bed unmade and the room empty but he assumed Draco decided to meet up with the others early.

"Well, he has to be somewhere. I know. Why not ask his biggest fan?" Theo turned over to Pansy for the first time in months to send off a cold, taunting smile. "Happen to have any ideas?"

Before Pansy would've returned the smile with a dark hex that would claw Theo's face like a cat. Instead, she passed along a look that could melt skin clean off the bone and then looked back at Harry to pass along a shrug. "Haven't seen him since last night. Stephanie complained that he didn't come back to their little study date."

Theo shrugged. "Must be recovering from his meeting with Moody."

"Yeah, but-" The words fell into the mist as a feeling snuck into him, coiling in his stomach like a snake, closing in tighter and tighter.

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

His eyes snapped wide open.

"Harry?"

"Dear Merlin, he's gone white."

"Are you okay?" A hand touched him, maybe Pansy or Daphne, he wasn't sure. His mind was too wired, too loud from the memories flashing in his head.

Warmth curled his chest as the blond prince smiled at him, reaching for his hand. "I never had a best friend before either. I didn't like any of the other kids. They're not as fun as you."

Dear Merlin.

"But," Harry said. "Since you're also my best friend that means you're also my boy. Which means you're mine, too."

The smile on Draco's face broadened to a grin. He drew Harry to his chest, resting his head on his hair. "Then it's settled then. I'm yours and you're mine."

Dear bloody Merlin.

He didn't even need to turn around to feel shoulders shrugging him, sensing those gray eyes rolling in annoyance. The owner to those eyes hated being ignored more than anything else, especially by him.

"Well," Draco said. "I'm a prat and you're a git. Aren't we a pair?"

Harry shrugged with indifference and kicked off his left shoe, then worked to undo the other. He refused to turn around when the bed rocked from Draco's movements as he crawled to him, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders, laying his head on his shoulder.

"Despite it all, you're still my favorite person."

Silence met those words and Harry was determined to keep it that way, refusing to break it. His defenses started to weaken as Draco kissed his cheek.

"Just like I'm yours."

Damn him. Damn himself too and his weak defenses for crumbling. Harry made his face neutral as he undid his laces and kicked off the other shoe. He stared straight ahead for what felt like hours before he sighed and leaned into him, one of his hands covering Draco's. "Yes," he finally said. "Even though I question why."

Draco dropped another kiss on his cheek, holding him tight. "Because I'm so pretty."

"Get the hell over yourself." Harry laughed, elbowing him away.

Dear. Bloody. Stinking. Merlin.

All this time, he thought his Firebolt was going to be used as a prop for the second task, would be the thing that'd get taken when it was really wasn't a thing but a person. A person who was one of important people in Harry's life even when he was furious with him, someone he'd miss the most.

Someone he only had an hour to get back before he was lost forever.

"Draco!"