Draco didn't like the idea of going back to the magical world in the first place. It was ten times worse that he had to go back with black hair.
"I don't see why we have to do all of this covering up," Draco complained as he watched the black hair dye slosh around the sink. "I don't want black hair."
"Shut up, or you're going to have a black face when the dye splashes up onto your skin," Harry advised, watching Draco gingerly dip his head into the sink. He put on some rubber gloves, grabbed a cup, and assisted Draco in pouring the liquid over his head.
"Besides," Harry added tactically, "you don't want to be recognized, do you?" Draco didn't say anything, for fear of inhaling black water.
Ten minutes later, Harry yanked Draco's head out of the water, and promptly mashed a few pieces of aluminum foil around his skull.
"What's that for?!" Draco asked indignantly. He looked up and saw that Harry also had foil around his head. "Potter, I thought that we were going back, not playing beauty parlor."
"You want the dye to stick or not?! Look, if you don't like it, you can dye it back. All's you need was peroxide, since your hair is practically white anyway."
"Why can't you just use a wa-w-wand?" Draco asked, having trouble pulling the word out of his mouth.
"Two reasons. One, I snapped and destroyed my wand about eight years ago. Two, they'd be able to see through the magic disguises."
"This really, really, sucks," Draco muttered, fingering the foil and wondering how stupid he must look.
A half-hour later, Harry said that Draco could take the foil off. He did so with gusto, and peered into the mirror in the bathroom.
"Your hair must have dyed well, since it's so light," Harry remarked.
Draco was staring at himself, except for he had hair darker than ink. It's different, Draco reluctantly admitted to himself, but it's not that bad, I suppose.
"It's not that different," Draco said instead. "It still looks like Draco Malfoy, with Potter's hair," he shuddered.
"That's because we're not done yet," Harry said from the other room. Draco looked around the doorframe, to see a Harry Potter, except for he had light blond hair with black streaks.
"I have such dark hair, it's hard to dye," he sighed. Draco sighed too. He felt so stupid dying his hair. He was starting to reconsider going back anyway.
"What are you doing?" asked Draco, as Harry produced a large amount of brown paint, dumped it into a bucket, and started rummaging through his cupboard.
"You wouldn't happen to have any flour, would you?" Harry asked distantly.
"I don't cook."
"Do you know where I could get some?"
"The store."
"Forget it."
Harry handed the bucket over to Draco, who looked it over incredulously.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.
"Put it on."
"What?! I'm not putting paint on my body!"
"It doesn't poison you. You need to change your skin color. The flour would make it less messy, but since you don't have any..."
"Forget this. I'm not going. This is too much work," Draco remarked stubbornly, setting the bucket on the ground.
"Fine. So, what are you going to do now, Amfylo? Kill me, collect your pay, and go on living your miserable life in the gutter?"
Draco didn't say anything. Harry handed him a sponge.
"This makes it easier to put on."
Draco grabbed the sponge, stared daggers at Harry, and stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him viciously.
"Too easy," Harry grinned, getting ready to redye his hair.
Still a half-hour later, Draco Malfoy emerged, chocolate-colored skin, and inky-black hair. He flung the bucket and sponge to the side, and glared at Harry for a moment.
Harry had dyed his hair a very, very light blonde, and had obviously done some skin work of his own. His flesh-tone was now icily white and his eyes were a pearly whitish-grayish. He actually looked a lot like Draco did before, but with overly exaggerated features. The scar was nowhere to be seen.
"How did you change your eyes?" asked Draco, his curiosity getting the better of him, as usual.
"Muggle contacts. They're quite interesting. You need brown eyes. Here," he said, handing up a box.
After fifteen minutes of intense struggle, Draco managed to blink the slippery plastic lenses into his eyes, and looked in the mirror. Draco Malfoy did not look back at him. Who did, was a person that looked vaguely like a Native American.
"'We done yet?" asked Draco crossly.
"Yes."
"Do you know how to get into the wizarding world?"
"Yes."
"Can we go now?"
"Yes."
Draco went into his room to grab a pistol, but Harry stopped him by grabbing his arm.
"No guns in the wizarding world, remember?"
Draco had to bite back every instinct to snap back at Harry, because he knew that Harry was right. How could he have forgotten? Fifteen years ago, he didn't know what a gun was.
"Knife," Harry said, handing over a thirteen-inch blade with a silver handle. "If you can find anything else that isn't completely muggle, you can bring that too."
Draco tore the house apart, coming back up with a rope of twine, a cigarette lighter, and a pack of marbles, which he was about to put back, before Harry stopped him.
"Keep those."
"Marbles? Have you lost your..." Draco trailed off, deciding not to end that train of speech.
"You never know," Harry said nonchalantly. Draco grumbled, but shoved the shiny glass orbs in his pocket.
"Can we leave now?"
"Come on."
The twosome left the apartment, and Draco followed Harry silently through the crowded muggle streets. He felt like he was walking through a dream world. He didn't exactly remember where he was going, but there was a strong sense of deja vu running alongside him.
Finally, Harry stopped in front of a blackened heap of wood and metal. Draco's sharp nose picked out the smells of singed liquor. Walking forward, he discovered a large wooden plaque. Wiping off some of the smeared ashes, Draco peered at the letters carved into the wood.
The Leaky Cauldron
Swallowing hard, Draco dropped the plaque and backed away to a brick wall, where Harry was. Harry gave Draco a sad smile. Draco didn't know why, but he felt his eyes begin to burn, and he pretended to wipe his hands on his pants, so Harry wouldn't notice.
Harry was busy looking at the brick wall. Counting off some bricks, he located one, and punched it hard.
"Three up.... Two across," Draco muttered under his breath. Harry looked up.
"Right. So, you haven't forgotten everything."
Draco didn't answer, as Harry punched the brick again. He cursed as the rough surface of the brick scraped his knuckles roughly.
"Don't you need a wand for this?" Draco asked incredulously.
Harry glared at him, rubbing his knuckles and scowling at the wall. "This is the only entrance that Voldemort hasn't sealed completely. It's weakened over the years. See?"
He pointed to the grout surrounding the brick. Draco squatted down and squinted at it. The grout had cracked, and there was a faint yellow glow coming from behind the cracks.
"I see. Then why didn't you try this?" Draco took the long blade that Harry had given to him, grabbed the hilt, and slammed it into the brick.
The brick cracked further and yellow light seared through the cracks, blinding Draco. Pain shot through the knife, into his arms, and through his entire body. His eyes and nose ran like faucets, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming his anguish. Coppery blood flooded his mouth. With a grunt, he raised the hilt again, and smacked the brick again. The brick exploded, and the shards dissipated into terracotta dust.
Draco collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. Harry looked at him for a moment.
"That's why I never tried that," he remarked. Draco would have glared at him, but he was suddenly too tired to lift his neck. He dropped into a faint.
About ten minutes later, he was brought around by Harry slapping him. "Wake up," Harry demanded, striking his left cheek. "Sleep later," he went on, hitting his right cheek.
When Draco came around enough, he lunged forward, balled his hands into fists, and punched Harry in the nose. Harry backed off, clutching his nose, which was now bleeding.
"Slap me again," Draco gasped, "and it'll be the last thing you ever do. You've been warned."
Harry gave him a death glare, trying to stop his nose from spurting blood. He pointed to the wall, which had now opened into an arch. Draco dragged himself off the ground with great haughtiness, and stalked through the gateway. Harry followed.
The archway closed after Harry. They looked around at the landscape. Draco was surprised to see that he was standing in an abandoned field of green slopes, colorful flowers, and tall trees. A babbling brook burbled contentedly to the left of them, curving around into a forest. The sunny sky was so bright; Draco had to shade his eyes. He was about to step forward, when Harry pulled him back.
"What's wrong now?" Draco asked, exasperated. Harry just sighed, and took a knife from the inside of his robes. Taking careful aim, he flung it at a tree to the left of them. The knife embedded in the wood, with a hollow, mechanical thlunking sound, like it was hacking into something metal. Draco frowned. That wasn't what a normal tree sounded like when something hit it.
There was a fizzing sound, and the knife was suddenly engulfed in yellow sparks. Draco watched in awe as the landscape around him was distorted and twisted into a swirl of colors. The soothing sounds of the stream, and the birds chirping slowed down and deepened until it sounded like a muggle computer game gone wrong. Then, the knife and the tree exploded, and the pretty scenery disappeared.
Draco was now standing on a gray platform. The sky was an intimidating shade of green and black, and the trees were barren. What was worse was outside the platform of which he and Harry were standing there was a large trench surrounding it, ten feet wide, and Draco couldn't tell how deep. It appeared bottomless.
"Watch where you step," Harry remarked airily.
"What the hell was that?" Draco asked.
"It was a simulator. Magical yes, but there has to be something to project the simulations. The fools. I've broken in here about ten times. You'd think you'd move the simulator. It's lucky they're so stupid."
Draco knew that he should feel angry about this; Harry was insulting his father. Instead, he felt very queer about the feelings of loyalty he felt he should have. They seemed twisted up and questioned until there was rather a sour taste left on Draco's tongue. Rather than mention this, Draco decided to let it go.
"How are we going to get across... this?" he asked instead.
Harry grinned toothily, but did not appear very happy. "Just don't look down," he said.
Draco was about to say he didn't understand, but Harry had abruptly turned and stepped out into the thin air. Words caught in Draco's throat when he realized that Harry was walking on the air. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, without looking down, for ten feet.
"Your turn," Harry called from the other side. Draco looked down at the pit, and swallowed.
"Dear God," he muttered, looking down, and about to step, when Harry's shrill voice broke in.
"Don't look down!" he cried. "You'll fall if you do!"
Making sure to look up at the sky, Draco took the first step. It was like walking against a resistance of some sort that kept his weight from falling down the gap. Breathing deeply, he kept on walking, until there was a giggle from below him. Reaction made him look down. As soon as he did, Draco realized his mistake. He plummeted.
Screaming as he fell, Draco managed to dig the knife from his pocket, and in an act of desperation, he thrust it into the wall.
The knife in the side of the cliff made him slow down a little bit, but not much. Eventually, he hit a layer of sandstone, stopping the knife. The hilt bumped and jiggled in his hand. Draco held on for dear life.
"Draco? Are you still there?" called Harry from the top of the cliff. Draco looked up, shielding his eyes from the bits of dirt and rock that fell from the bluff.
"Yeah, for the moment," he yelled back, feeling his muscles begin to burn. The giggle sounded again. Draco gritted his teeth angrily. It was that stupid noise that got him in this mess to begin with.
"Come and play with me," cooed a soft voice from the left of him. Whirling his head around, Draco nearly loosed the knife.
It was a ghost of a little girl. She was wearing a long, white robe, with silvery white hair that fell down to her waist. She giggled again, and lay a small palm on his shoulder. The coldness felt good against his tight, sweaty skin.
Draco's muscles burned, and he gasped with pain. The little girl smiled sweetly at him.
"Come and play. Come and play forever...."
The knife started to bend under Draco's weight.
"And ever...."
The sweat on his palms was making the metal hilt slip out of his hands.
"And ever...."
Harry yelled something, but Draco didn't hear him. He was staring into the little girl's eyes, which reminded him of a deep, dark well, drawing him into it's depths.
"And ever," the girl finished.
"Who are you?" Draco asked, exasperated.
"Forever Fate," the girl whispered.
Draco didn't know what Forever Fate was, and he was sure he really didn't want to know. Maybe it was death.
"Is... is it my time? So soon?" he whispered back, barely audible. The girl just giggled again, her hair waving in the air like it was in water.
"Look for The Beginning. The Beginning of the End. Thee shall know when thy time has come, Draco Malfoy."
"The Beginning of the End?! The Beginning of what End? I don't understand!" Draco yelled at the apparition.
Forever Fate just giggled and disappeared into nothing. Draco was so intent on her leaving that he lost his grip on the knife.
Thud. About three feet from the knife, Draco flopped on something solid, and lay there, utterly confused by the events of the last ten minutes. It took a few seconds for Draco to register that he was on something solid, and not falling.
"MALFOY? ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!" Harry bellowed from above.
"Yes. There's some sort of platform down here," Draco yelled back up.
"Can it hold my weight?" Harry called back. Draco looked down, jumped a few times on the stone that he was standing on before answering.
"I think so."
There was a swish, and Draco saw that Harry had embedded his own knife in the cliff, and slid down until he hit the sandstone bar. He let go of the knife, and fell the last three feet to the solid rock platform.
"Well? What now?" asked Draco. Harry was staring at an indentation in the rock. It looked a lot like a large arch in the cliff, with a stopper in it. It was obvious that there was a cave beyond the rock stopper.
"There's words here.." Harry mused, wiping the dust away. There were indeed, words etched in the stone.
Forever Fate welcomes you,
to The Beginning of the End.
Blessings go with,
and luck with the world you must mend.
Harry looked over at Draco. "What's Forever Fate?" Draco remembered the little girl, and thought it best not to answer truthfully.
The stone stopper shuddered into a groove, shedding small bits of rock and stone aside as it disappeared into the side of the wall.
"Where do you think it goes?" Draco asked. Harry shrugged.
"Only one way to find out." Taking out a flashlight, he flicked it on. It was a long, smooth tunnel, obviously not naturally made. The twosome started down the tunnel, silently.
# # #
Mr. Parkinson disliked having to talk to Mr. Malfoy and his Lord. For one thing, he hated to be looked down on and since Mr. Malfoy had been in Voldemort's inner circle, he got seniority.
"What do you want, Parkinson?" Mr. Malfoy asked, in a haughty tone. Mr. Parkinson bristled.
"Nothing," he remarked airily, "except for the fact that your son, and Harry Potter are still alive."
The color drained out of Mr. Malfoy's face, and Mr. Parkinson threw the paper at him, and stalked out. Normally, Mr. Malfoy would have been all over Mr. Parkinson for his insolent behavior, but decided to drop it for once. Snatching up the paper, he squinted at the picture.
It was indeed his son. Even from the distorted view, and the terrible muggle technology, he could still see Draco Malfoy looking at him. He slid into a chair, and looked at the paper.
He had always felt hurt when he thought of Draco, since his son - his own son! - had abandoned him. He knew that he might have been a little rash when it came to certain situations, but he had never dreamed it was that bad.
"Oh Draco..." he whispered to the person in the photograph. "Why?" Emotions came through, and abruptly, Mr. Malfoy shoved them away.
Standing up, he got back to business matters. The Lord needed to know that Harry Potter was still out and about. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a ring of keys, ticked some of them off, and went into his personal quarters.
Since he was one of Voldemort's right-hand men, he got several benefits. Personal servants at his every beck and call, power as he called upon it, and... his own personal messenger.
Unlocking the cage that hung at the far end of the room, he waited impatiently until a small, white being fluttered out. She had ghostly white skin, white wings, and long, white hair that went down to her toes. A Fairy of Air. Who could ask for a better messenger?
"Take this to the Lord," he demanded. "Pull anything funny, and your sisters are in for it."
The small fairy nodded sadly, and fluttered out the window.
Mr. Malfoy sighed, and sat on his bed, to think.
# # #
It had been about three hours of plodding along the stone cave, when Draco swore that if he had to take one more step, he was going to fall apart.
"It's not that much further," Harry panted. It was very stuffy in the cave, and the air was humid and hard to breathe. The flashlight that Harry had had gone out long ago, and they were now making do with the feeble flame of the cigarette lighter.
"You said it wasn't that much further an hour ago!" Draco proclaimed, making his feet go another step forward. "I don't want to-" He crashed into something hard.
Turning around and shining the flame of light on the wall in front of them, Draco saw that it was another stone stopper. Harry studied it intently for a moment. There was no writing to be found in this one, only a large crack. Harry smacked the crack with his open palm. The rock shattered.
Draco hoisted himself up out of the dark cave, rejoicing in the cold air that filled his lungs before he looked around.
They were in some sort of forest that looked distantly familiar to Draco, though he couldn't quite place a finger on it. Harry got out of the cave, and sighed.
"The Forbidden Forest," he said to Draco. Draco's jaw dropped. There was a clump of ferns in front of him. He ripped the ferns aside and looked up.
Hogwarts met his eyes. The stone seemed blacker, and the sky had an evil aura to it, but the castle was familiar. Surrounding the castle were hundreds of thousands of gray stone cottages, most of which had curls of smoke coming up from the chimney.
"That's where the wizards live," Harry explained. "I don't know quite how it works, but there is some sort of boundary that the occupants can't go past."
Draco just stared at his old school, disbelieving that this was real. Was his father here? Were all of his childhood friends here? His enemies?
Harry had started walking from the forest. Draco really had no choice but to follow. They walked in silence through the cobweb pattern of dirt streets connecting the houses. They stopped in front of one that was in the middle of one of the dusty, identical streets.
"Who lives here?" Draco asked. Harry looked at him from behind his contacts of silver eyes.
"The Weasleys, and Hermione," he said. Draco didn't have time to protest, because Harry rapped on the door.
It was a few seconds before someone answered. The wooden door squeaked open, and Mr. Weasley was standing there, in a robe of gray. He looked them tiredly over.
"Can I help you two?" he asked. Harry looked up at him.
"Let me in, Mr. Weasley. It's only me." Mr. Weasley didn't seem to get it, but he let Draco and Harry in anyway.
The door shut behind him, and Draco found that that air was almost as hard to breathe as it had been in the cave.
It was a two-room cabin. The room that they were standing in wasn't much to look at, but it had been scrubbed clean. The walls were stone, and wooden beams held up the thatch roof. A fireplace covered an entire wall, nearly, and a rough wooden table was in the center, with stools around it. There was an adjacent room with no door that had pallets on the floor.
By the fireplace, three women sat. Draco recognized two as Mrs. Weasley and Hermione Granger, but he couldn't put a finger on the third, but she seemed to be about four years old.
They were doing something quite odd. There was a ball of what looked like shimmering yarn, sitting by the little girl. She had something of a crocheting needle in her hands, and she was rapidly pulling and twisting the string until it was woven into one long braid-type pattern. Hermione took the strand that the little girl was weaving, and was weaving that thread together with another, already done ball of crochet braid. Mrs. Weasley was twisting that into yet another, thicker weave, making a shimmering rope about three inches thick of the 'yarn'. The three females looked up, but their fingers kept on twisting the yarn into thick ropes.
The little girl grinned at the two visitors, and Draco felt his breath catch. She looked exactly like Forever Fate had looked. She dropped her needle and waddled up to the two visitors, sucking her thumb. She stopped at Harry's feet, and pointed up.
"Harwy Potter," she proclaimed innocently. Hermione looked up from her work and gave something of a wane smile.
"Forgive her," she said. "She likes to imagine things. Nadine, come back."
Draco looked at the little girl, who was now looking at him. Forever Fate was Nadine? Then he shook his head. He probably just imagined the little girl anyhow.
"Dwaco Malfoy," Nadine went on to explain. Draco looked down at her, and Nadine smiled.
"Honey, come back," Hermione said. "You're bothering the visitors. Can we help you, sirs?"
Harry shot a glance at Draco, and then back at Nadine. He shook his head and addressed Hermione.
"Actually, Hermione-"--Hermione jumped at the mention of her name--"-your little girl's right. Some kind of guess, or Nadine here has a lot of Inner Eye."
There was silence. The Weasleys looked at Hermione, who looked at Harry. Nadine just giggled - the giggle sounding so much like Forever Fate's - and raised her arms up to Draco, as an order to be picked up.
Draco stared at her for a moment, before Nadine smiled at him, and Draco felt himself melt. Bending over, he scooped up Nadine, and she grabbed his hat and waved it in the air.
"You're not Harry," Mrs. Weasley said weakly, voice cracking. "Harry died ten years ago..."
Harry sighed and reached for his forehead. Grabbing hold of the top of it, he slowly began to peel away some of the white paint. Everybody watched in stupefied disgustment, until Harry's scar showed through the paint.
"Harry?" breathed Hermione. "Harry, is it really you?" Harry nodded slowly, and Hermione abruptly leapt up from her work, and enveloped Harry in a hug.
"Harry," she whispered into his shoulder. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry.... We thought you were dead..."
Draco stood, watching this scene with odd feelings. Finally, Hermione turned from Harry to face Draco. Draco involuntarily straightened, feeling awkward.
"Malfoy?" she asked. Draco wobbled slightly, took a deep breath, and then nodded. She looked at him oddly, and he sighed.
"What do you want? A birth certificate?" he snapped. Hermione looked slightly abashed. Sighing again, he brought a finger up to his eye, and took out one of his brown contacts, revealing their true color of steely gray.
Hermione looked at Draco for a moment, before slowly - very slowly - reaching around his body for an embrace. Draco stiffened.
"It's good that you're not dead either, I suppose," Hermione said, lukewarm tone to her voice. Draco snorted.
"That's nice," he said dryly. Hermione let him go.
"So, where's everybody else?" Harry asked. Mr. Weasley sighed.
"Bill, Percy, Ron, Fred, George and Charlie are working on developments to wizarding 'technology' they call it. Right now I think that they're trying to find a way to make a simulation without a simulator. Ginny is working at the castle."
"Why aren't you there?" Draco asked Hermione, hoping that she wouldn't take it personally. Luckily for him, she wasn't on one of her mood swings.
"My day off," she said simply. "We get one a month."
"Is Nadine yours?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"Who's the father?"
Hermione flushed dark red, and her eyes became watery. "I'd rather not talk about that."
Draco looked at Nadine. She had long brown hair, and light blue eyes. She definitely wasn't a Weasley child.
"Tea?" asked Mrs. Weasley, who was pouring some light amber liquid into plain, white mugs.
"Yes, please," Harry said. It had been hot and damp in the caves, and it was hot and dry outside. "Something to drink would be very nice."
Mrs. Weasley gave him a watery smile and handed him a mug. The tea was quite good, flavored with spices and a bit of orange peel.
"What happened?" Draco asked. He flushed because the question wasn't very clear, but Mr. Weasley seemed to get what he had been aiming at.
"'Not sure, really," he said distantly, propping his head up against a fist. "All I remember was a green glow surrounding our house. It was actually your father." Draco tightened his grip around the mug.
"He did some sort of sleeping spell, and next thing I knew, we were here, along with Hermione," he motioned to Hermione, who had taken Nadine from Draco, and was bouncing her on her knee. "We were given duties the next day."
Harry, meanwhile, had been examining the yarn that the women had been crocheting a few seconds earlier. "What is this stuff?"
Mrs. Weasley shrugged. "We don't know. The Lord - err, You-Know-Who - gave each house a quota on how much rope we have to make per day. Now, what about you two? What kind of trouble have you been getting into for the last ten years?"
# # #
They conversed until seven-thirty that night, discussing the last ten years in length. Three pots of tea later, Hermione drew Harry and Draco aside.
"Will you do me a huge favor?" she whispered.
"Sure," Harry said in reply.
"You guys are leaving before eight, right?"
"Well, I suppose....."
"Can you take Nadine with you?"
"What?!"
Hermione waved her hands. "Shh! The inspector comes by at eight. Please take Nadine. She deserves better than this." she motioned with her hands at the small cabin.
Draco made a face. "Granger, my place is probably worse off than this... and Potter's practically homeless."
"Please? I'm asking you as a friend, an enemy, or whatever you want to think of it. I... I don't want to see her go, but she has a better chance at life in muggle London then she does here. Please?!"
Harry and Draco looked at each other uncertainly. "Hermione, we'll take her, but we don't know the first thing about raising kids..."
Hermione smiled, but tears were threatening to leave her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, and went to go get Nadine ready.
"I suppose that this means I have to learn how to take care of a kid, on top of everything else? Potter, I don't think my salary as an assassin is going to cover that," Draco said sarcastically. Harry didn't answer. Ten minutes later, Hermione came out of the back room, with Nadine bundled up in several cloths.
"...And Mummy loves you very much, she'll never forget you..." Hermione was saying to Nadine. Nadine either didn't have an idea of what was going on, or she didn't seem to care one iota.
Hermione looked at Harry and Draco. "Hurry. The night inspectors will be here any moment."
"Won't they notice that your little girl is gone?" asked Draco incredulously.
"I'll take care of that. You had better take good care of Nadine, or when I die I will haunt you 'till the end of time," she said warningly to him.
Harry nodded, and scooped up Nadine, and walked out the door. Draco followed, feeling awkward.
The sound of Hermione's muffled sobs followed them, making Draco shudder.
A/N: Well! We're almost done; this fic probably won't have more than one or two more chapters at the most. I love all my reviewers very much, *wink wink*.
~Moxie ^_^
Disclaimer: Err, everybody except for Forever Fate and Nadine belongs to J.K. Rowling, I believe.