It must have been nearly midnight by the time they reached the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Or at least, that's what it felt like, since neither Harry nor Hermione had brought a watch. They dismounted in unison, took out their wands and muttered, "Lumos."
Harry picked up his broom and started off into the Forest, motioning for Hermione to do the same. It was darker than black at the edge, and the shadows intensified the further in they went. Harry wondered briefly how Malfoy could have possibly lived here for over two weeks. Perhaps this was a trap…
He stopped abruptly in his tracks, causing Hermione to ram into him from behind. "Harry," she quavered, "Maybe we should yell for him."
As they shouted, "Malfoy!" through the undergrowth, Harry stumbled on a root and would have fallen flat on his face if not for a thin, pale hand that grabbed his arm and yanked him unceremoniously into a hollow.
"Malfoy!" The boy was paler than he'd ever remembered seeing him. His arms were thin and brittle, covered with raw scratches and blisters. His whitish hair was snarled into a mess, and even in the faint light from his wand Harry could see that one side of his face was singed. Malfoy's appearance erased any doubts about whether this was a setup.
Malfoy said, "Potter… I didn't think you were coming." A twig somewhere above their heads snapped, and Malfoy froze into that classic deer-in-headlights pose. Harry reached out and touched him soothingly, only to have this gesture met with Malfoy jerking away as if burned. Taken aback, Harry said, "It's okay. That's only Hermione."
"The Mudblood? What's she doing here?"
"She came with me to rescue you," Harry said, poking Malfoy in the chest to emphasise his point. "You'd better be nice to her."
Mumbled assent.
Harry started to get up, but Malfoy clutched at his elbow and pulled him down. "Where the hell are you going?" he said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "You aren't going to leave me here, are you?"
Harry sighed, and looked at the younger boy. "I'm going to get you out of here."
"But isn't it easier to just kill me and get it over with?" Harry stared, perplexed, but Malfoy was going on. "The bald guy must have heard you. He'll be coming any minute now. If you don't hurry, he'll get you."
Harry shook his head. "Malfoy, you can't seriously have thought that I'd kill you just because you want me to." The grey eyes widened. "But you hate me."
"Look, let's get out of here before the bald guy - Wormtail - comes. We'll argue later."
Malfoy followed Harry out of the shelter, then whistled. The same eagle owl that had delivered Malfoy's letters and parcels for the last four years descended from one of the trees and perched itself on Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy petted it and crooned, while Harry followed Hermione's light as it steadily made its way back to the edge. Harry explained, "Hermione's got her Cleansweep. You ride on my broom."
Malfoy's eyes glittered. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Potter?"
Harry almost punched him. He grated, "This is no time for jokes, Malfoy," then concentrated on finding the way back. When they reached the clearing, Hermione was waiting for them. "I assumed you'd found him," she said curtly, not even looking at Malfoy.
Harry glanced in Malfoy's direction, and was startled to see him backing slowly towards the trees. He followed Malfoy's line of sight, and saw a bald man running towards the group. "Wormtail," he hissed under his breath. Then, "Hermione, get on, quick. We have to leave now."
Hermione had also seen Wormtail, and was wasting no time. Harry pulled Malfoy towards the broom - too slowly! Wormtail was almost upon them, arms outstretched…
With a wild yell, Ron Weasley catapulted off the back of his ancient Shooting Star and smashed into Wormtail's back. "Harry, go!" He shouted. "I'll hold him off!"
Harry scrambled onto the Firebolt, Malfoy behind him, and pushed off. Ron hit Wormtail with a full body-bind, and followed suit. The four humans and one owl were airborne, Ron laughing with victory, and headed back to the Burrow.
* * * * * * *
The journey back seemed to take only a fraction of the time it took to get there, even though the traveling pace was dictated by the speed of the slowest broom. Ron checked the time and discovered, to everyone's surprise, that it was not yet eleven. They would be sure to reach the Burrow before Ron's parents got back.
"I couldn't do it," admitted Ron. "I couldn't just sit at home and wait for you guys to come back. I kept imagining that you were being killed, or tortured, or something even worse… I think it must have been a whole ten minutes before I dragged out the broom and went haring after you two."
Hermione flashed Harry a see-I-told-you-so look. Malfoy, sitting behind Harry, was complaining good-humouredly. Ron had earlier commented on Malfoy's good mood and attributed it to his daring rescue. He also darkly predicted that Malfoy would be back to his normal, insufferable self by the following morning.
"Potter, I'm falling off the broom here," needled Malfoy.
"I thought you were supposed to be a good flier."
"Let's see how well you play Quidditch sitting on the twig end of your broom."
"Well, hang on to my waist then," retorted Harry.
Malfoy hesitated, then, glaring at Hermione's knowing grin, put his arms loosely around Harry's waist, causing him to jump. "I wasn't serious, Malfoy," protested Harry.
He was answered by a flash of white teeth as Malfoy grinned nervously. "I was."
They talked about Malfoy's stay in the Forbidden Forest ("Awful"), how he survived ("Mushrooms. Rastaban, my owl, foraged them for me. Come to think of it, I'm lucky I didn't poison myself") and why he wrote to Harry for help.
* * * * * * *
"Here we are," announced Ron, dismounting. "The Burrow."
Malfoy stared. "This is your house, Weasley?"
Ron bristled. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, nothing," replied Malfoy hastily. "It's great. It's big. And clean. And very un-scary."
Ron snorted dismissively and led the way through a back door, leaving the brooms in the kitchen and sneaking upstairs. All was quiet and serenely dark (unlike the Forbidden Forest, which was eerily dark). They crept towards Ron's room and -
A blaze of light nearly blinded them. Ginny barred their way in her nightgown, having turned on the landing light and flooding the corridor with brilliance. She looked like some kind of titan (despite being shorter than all the others) with one hand on a slender hip and the other brandishing a thunderbolt of power, scarlet hair cascading down her back in waves and her ivory robe swirling around her legs. As their eyes unblurred, she became Just Ginny again, waving a toothbrush.
"Ron, WHAT are you doing, looking like you're on a commando mission at one in the morning?" whispered Ginny. "Everyone else went to bed long ago, and hang on, didn't you go to sleep at eight thirty?"
"Um…" stammered Ron, scooting sideways like a guilty toddler in an attempt to block Malfoy from view. All this achieved was to draw attention to the blond boy.
Ginny did a double take, then rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to go to sleep. I've obviously been staring at the tiny print in my book for too long. I could swear I just saw Draco Malfoy there." She turned around and wobbled back to the open door. Hermione waved a cheerful goodbye, and followed her.
Draco, Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Where do I sleep, Weasley?" asked Malfoy.
Ron said, "Ssh!" and beckoned them towards his room.
Inside, they shut the door. Ron looked at the bed as if he'd never seen it before and stated the obvious. "One bed. Three of us." He looked apprehensively at Malfoy, who threw up his hands in surrender.
"Look, you guys can have your tryst. I'll sleep on the floor," said Malfoy, and duly lay down and rolled over, saying, "Good night."
Harry whistled, "Well, how about that!" while Ron looked incredulous.
"Not even one insult…" he was saying as they changed into their pajamas.
Harry coughed. "Actually, there were a couple. You know what a 'tryst' is, don't you Ron?"
"A what?"
Harry was wondering how to explain it to his best friend, since they had been sleeping in the same bed every time he'd come over, when Malfoy said, "If you have a tryst with someone, Weasley, it means you fuck them."
When this sank in, Ron sighed. "Sorry, Malfoy, I'm finding it hard to be insulted by someone whose own father is at this moment hunting for his blood." There was no reply. Ron and Harry climbed into bed and turned out the light.
A deep silence covered The Burrow.