A/n: Sorry this took so long to get up. Well…here goes nothing. This is the beginning of the end. I foresee only three or four more chapters until the very end! Oh, and yes, the last two lines of the last chapter are NOT mine. But they do have a nice ring to them. They are from the Hebrew psalm "To Every Thing There is A Season" and Robert Frost's "Nothing Gold Can Stay."

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and again, thank you for your patience regarding the length of time that passed between the posting of these chapters. Each and every review (good AND bad) are treasure by myself, whether it is to motivate me to do better with each chapter, or to use the flames to roast marshmallows while I explain to Harry and Draco the dastardly things I do to them. The next one won't take one-third as much time as this one. And I am currently organizing my thoughts to write ANOTHER story with Harry and Draco, but I haven't yet decided if I want it to be a slash or het story. Oh, so many ships to choose from. Speaking of which, I am making a website that will feature slash works. Why? Well...

*blush*

Dammit, I miss my NC-17s on this site!! Argh!! I want them BACK. So, therefore, I will make my OWN site that caters specifically to the sick and twisted. ^.^ it is at http://www.geocities.com/musesofstarz. It is still fledgling...but go specifically to look at the hawt picture of Harry and Draco on the front. ^.^ I know I am such a hormone charged dork. Dorks of the world, unite.

And I would like to extend my deepest sympathies and well-wishes to the family of Richard Harris. His career was long and priceless, and his loss is a heavy blow to those who treasure the rare ability that Mr. Harris had. There never be another Dumbledore. *bows*

-----------------------------

"

So long sweet summer,
I stumbled upon you
And gratefully basked
In your rays.
So long, sweet summer,
I fell into you
Now you're gracefully
Falling away..."
--Dashboard Confessional "So Long, Sweet Summer"

Draco had always heard his father say 'hindsight is 20/20,' and he usually yelled it whenever Narcissa Malfoy tried to talk about Voldemort's downfall. Having never fully grasped the weight of this sentence, because he had never had something he looked back on and regretted with every fiber of his body, Draco had never given the phrase much thought. But in hindsight, hours, days, months afterwards, Draco was forced to relive every moment that had passed so he could try to find out why everything had gone so badly.

All that made sense was that it was a Friday morning. O.W.L.s were starting and all fifth year classes were given an hour break following their first double block class. Harry had told Draco the night before to meet him in the classroom they had been in before, and Draco slipped there after Defense against the Dark Arts. He was still woozy, having had to fight off a Boggart and deflect three spells.

He was playing with a chalkboard when he heard the door ease open. Footsteps strode across the floor and someone placed their hands over his eyes. "Guess who," a voice whispered. Draco let the chalk drop and grinned.

"Hm, I wonder," he said playfully. The person released him, and he turned. "Blaise?" he gasped, stumbling backwards. Blaise smiled.

"I saw you come in here," he said quietly. Draco's eyes flittered to the door, praying Harry wouldn't arrive before Draco could push Blaise out. "I'm sick of playing with you," whispered Blaise, stepping forward. He stepped behind Draco, and tried to wrap his arms around Draco's waist, but Draco turned.

"We can't do this here," he hissed, pushing at Blaise's hands.

"Then where?" replied Blaise. He inched forward, touching Draco's face, and without meaning to, Draco found himself closing his eyes to the touch.

Their lips touched.

A whirlwind of feelings flew through Draco. Harry doesn't taste like this…oh, but he doesn't do that…its so innocent…I'm not doing anything wrong…everything is wrong…

The door opened.

Blaise flew from Draco, who felt nauseous as she watched Blaise's face twist in embarrassment and hatred. He knew, without turning, who had just walked into the room.

"Bastard," Harry cursed.

"Don't start with me, Scarboy," Blaise said angrily.

"I wasn't talking to you, but that doesn't mean it doesn't apply." Harry's voice was wrought with hurt and fury that seethed beneath every syllable.

Draco spun around, wishing like hell she had just told Blaise to leave, pulling away from Blaise. "Harry, please…I wasn't thinking…"

"No shit, Sherlock," shot back Harry, his cheeks red and his hands shaking.

"Wait," Blaise said in shock, glancing between the two of them, "you…" he pointed at Draco, then swung the trembling finger to Harry, "and him?" His words were laden with disgust as he buried his face in his hands. "I feel so stupid! Here I am, thinking you are in love with me, when it is just an afterglow of you fucking him!"

"Well, he's obviously been fucking you on the side!" spat Harry.

"Stop!" Draco yelled, then walked to Harry and tried to hold him, and only got pushed away. "Harry, no, believe me, I love you, only you, please…" Harry bowed his head.

"Liar," he growled.

"I can't believe you, Draco!" Blaise yelled. "All the people in this damn school, and you go for him, you fall in love with him."

Clenching his fists, Draco hissed, "Shut up, Blaise!"

Harry leered at Blaise. "Well, I thought he was above useless trash, but apparently I was wrong." He looked moments away from striking someone.

Draco watched the two of them, his head spinning, wondering how it was possible that mere seconds of contact was the catalyst for the destruction of all three boys' reputations.

"You arrogant, Muggle-loving asshole!" Blaise cried.

"Keep your grimy hands off Draco," Harry said, and Draco's heart leapt at Harry's defense.

"It isn't up to you where my hands will be," replied Blaise. They both turned to Draco, and he backed up. "Well?" Blaise said, staring at Draco, his eyes pleading.

Draco knew someone's heart was going to break. This situation could only end in tears. But he knew his choice, even if he hated to do it.

He turned to Harry and moved to him, then looked at Blaise. "I'm sorry…" he whispered, but Blaise had already turned away and rushed from the room, and when he turned his head, Draco saw the single tear that spilled onto his flaming cheeks.

Draco tried to hold Harry, but he was sharply pushed away. "No," Harry said sternly, stepping back. Despair filled Draco.

"Harry, no, it meant nothing, it was nothing…"

"You lied to me," whispered Harry, his hair falling across his face, his eyes glistening behind his glasses. "You said you loved me."

"I do! You have to believe me!" Draco said, trying to move closer, but Harry just kept moving away.

"Don't touch me." He made for the door. "Don't…I can't…" he paused for a moment, his hand resting against the door handle. "Don't bother coming to the meeting tonight." Then he was gone.

And Draco did the only thing that was reasonably, plausible. or, possible at that moment.

He slumped against the chalkboard and sobbed.

There was no way he could be in a worse situation.

Oh, ye of little faith.

~

Draco spent most of the night in the room, languishing on the floor, trying to figure out how his life had gotten so complicated.

When he returned to his dorm, he barely noticed Blaise's absence. He instead wrote a quick note to Harry asking him to come see him the next day so they could talk things over. He folded the note up and put it in the pocket of his robes, then left for the Owlry.

Halfway there, he walked headfirst into Snape. His face was plastered with sweat, and he shifted uncomfortably from each foot to the other in a very un-Snape like fashion.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing out past curfew?" Snape said, staring down at Draco. Draco shook his head, regretting not taking the invisibility cloak.

"Sorry, Professor. I wanted to send a letter to someone," replied Draco. There was no other explanation that he could fudge. He was too depressed.

"I need to speak with you," Snape said, then turned and started walking...but not to his office. Draco lingered, wary of following Snape. Something was telling him he should just run away.

Snape spun around, and glared at Draco. "You'll do well to follow me, Mr. Malfoy, unless you would like fifty points taken from Slytherin."

Reluctantly, Draco set off after the Professor, his hand in his pocket on his wand. He briefly wondered where they were going when Snape turned into a small classroom where the fire burned brightly.

"May I ask why we're here, sir?" Malfoy asked slowly, but from the shadowy corners of the room sprang three darkly robed men, who tackled Draco, bringing him crashing to the floor. His head struck a leg of a chair, dazing him and quelling his struggles for a moment.

The men dragged him to the fireplace, threw a handful of Floo Powder into it, then he was handed roughly to one man, who yanked him to his feet and stepped into the flames, clutching Draco's upper arm in a death grip.

Into the grate, he yelled sternly "Malfoy Manor!" Draco felt himself being pulled along, his hands hitting the sides of fireplaces that were not meant to handle two people. The rapid movement, coupled with the concussion he surely had, made him feel nauseous and faint.

They stumbled from the fireplace, and waited as the rest of the band of attackers emerged. As soon as they had, the man released Draco's arm. He tried to run, but he was quickly caught roughly by the neck, knocking him over again. This time, when he hit the floor, he was out.

~

Draco swam in and out of conciousness. When the world finally began to sort out, and stop being a mixture of colors and voices, he had an odd feeling of weightlessness, as if he was floating in mid-air.

For a moment, he thought that he might be dead, but as he opened his eyes, he found that he was not dead, but instead suspended in air, his arms and legs bound tightly together.

In a forest.

Without his wand.

Staring down at Voldemort.

Terror so intense it almost knocked him out again encompassed Draco, and he tried to struggle, though he had no where to go, and the invisible bindings held him so tightly he barely wiggled.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said, his wand pointed at Draco, his face screwed in menace.

Draco tried to blink, or close his mouth, but his expression seemed to be as frozen as his body's mobility. His eyes flitted to Snape, who stood nervously by, avoiding Draco's eyes.

Beneath his dull horror, Draco felt a surge of anger. How dare Snape betray him, and the Order, like this? Voldemort followed Draco's gaze to Snape, then smiled at his captive.

"Worried, Draco? Wondering how your beloved teacher got in on this?" He turned around, his wand still on Draco, and beckoned to someone in line. A hooded figure stepped from the circle and stood beside Voldemort, then slowly lowered his hood.

Draco stared into Snape's eyes. He tried to yell out in surprise, but found that he couldn't quite form anything except terrified meeps. He looked between the two Snapes, completely confused, until the one that had led him to the fire gasped and doubled up in pain.

With eyes wide and questions racing through his mind, he watched as the imposter slowly turned back into himself, and Draco waited anxiously to find out the identity of his enemy.

As the person straighten to look at Draco, Draco felt something inside himself die.

Apparently, hell hath no fury as Blaise Zabini scorned.