A/N: Okay guys... this is it. My very first story. I've had it rummaging around in my head for a while and I thought: what the hell, let's get it over with.

I hope it gets half as good on paper as it is in my poor troubled brain.

WARNING: this will be slash... oh yes it will. If you mind, don't read!! So there. Flames will be donated to my poor underprivileged teddy bear, Sauron.

Disclaimer: All right, we all know it, folks. They're not mine at all. (Draco would never be angsty if Rowling got her way).

Chapter one :The Dream

The wind was howling over the hill where he stood. It was night time but the darkness was broken by occasional flashes of light. He didn't look in that direction, his eyes were firmly fixed on the person next to him. Draco.

His rival, his enemy.

Three months ago the war had broken out. Voldemort had attacked the ministry of magic and since then everything had been chaos. People died by the hundreds and so many familiar faces had been lost to him- lost forever: Lupin, Charlie Weasley, Dean and Seamus... so many.

He cried in his sleep and the tears were running down his cheeks to be dried by the sulphurous air on the hilltop. He knew what was happening in the field below. Death. Death would come to many more people that night.

His hands clenched tightly he glared at the boy next to him. Malfoy had left Hogwarts along with most of Slytherin house to join the Dark Lord. A fortress had broken out of the earth in the Northern part of Scotland, and there the Veela, the giants and other terrible creatures had flocked under the Dark Mark; Voldemort's banner. From that fortress the had streamed out over the land, killing everyone that stood in their way.

He had fought, and he still did. Together with Hermione, Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley he led the resistance and tried desperately to organise the wizards and witches into an army. They had succeeded and at last they were slowly pushing back the dark tide. The main bulk of the army was now massed only fifteen miles from the fortress.

They were winning!

He opened his mouth to ban the vision of Malfoy from his dream with scathing words, assurances that he would get what was coming to him, but Draco beat him to it.

The Slytherin raised his head and looked at him. Harry gaped in shock. He had changed.

A black pentagram was etched into the white skin on each of his temples and silent tears were falling from his eyes. He was dressed in simple black robes without any of the extravagance one would expect from a Malfoy.

"Hush, Harry," he said, although his lips didn't move. "Look down there."

Draco pointed to the battlefield and Harry's gaze followed his finger.

It was Hogwarts; burning! People were running to and fro, while dark shapes closed in on them. As they watched the ancient walls crumpled and the dark mass fell on the defenders. They will die! Harry thought. No one can survive that. There are too many of them.

Bile rising in his throat, his heart constricting painfully he turned back to Malfoy. "So it's all in vain, is it? We will loose anyway. After all this pain, we will loose." His bitter words sounded too loud in the sudden silence that had fallen over the place.

"No. This will not come to pass. There is a way." Draco's voice was hesitant, like every word was a battle for him. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Harry almost laughed out loud. This was ludicrous. Why should he trust a Malfoy, a Death Eater?

"Why should I trust you, Malfoy? You and your kind has caused me nothing but pain! No, I don't trust you. You are responsible for this! You killed them all! You showed them the hidden passage into Hogwarts didn't you!" he screamed.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I will, if you don't listen to me now. He is so very hard to fight, Harry. I don't have a lot of time before sunrise. Now listen: Abandon Hogwarts now, and march on the Fortress. Do not try to enter! Put a wall of force around it a quarter of a mile away from the walls.

All His forces will be centred around Hogwarts at that time and you will meet little resistance there. At midnight, four days from now, all the Death Eaters will be Apparated there, but they will be powerless for two hours. Strike then, but DO NOT try to enter the fortress, do you hear? "

Dracos eyes verily flashed with intensity. He was shaking and his hands were clenched to the point of drawing blood. Suddenly his head jerked up and he took a faltering step back.

"Harry, please. If you have never trusted me before then do so now. That's all I ask, just this once. He's coming, he's waking up! Oh God..."

Harry bolted awake on his field mattress. His covers were around his ankles and he was shivering with cold. At that moment the sun crested the horizon and the echo of a faint scream resonated in his mind.

He got up and stood by the tent flap. The camp was waking up and the sound of yawning and clanking of cooking pots mingled with the morning symphony of birds.

Harry heard none of these noises; only a faint voice, whispering: "Please... just this once"

Alors: What do you think? Should I go bury myself? PLEEEEEEEEEEASE R/R.

Killing_dance