Chapter Fifteen

It was as if a black cloud had descended upon them with the way they were all feeling at the moment. Always at a standstill and crossroads, they had no way to turn. Loyalties blurred, trust withheld for the sake of withholding.

"Why don't we just wing it?" Harry suggested suddenly, without looking up. There was an odd colored pebble near his right foot. What color is that? he wondered. Light purple? Puce? With effort, he lifted his head and continued, "Because I don't think we're ever going to come to a consensus and the more we argue, the more we go off topic."

Two faces of disbelief met him and one of confusion. Again he was reminded with how much he loved the way Draco was so unbalanced with him. To him, he was the Second year Gryffindor who took offense from things, not the seasoned veteran he was seeing in front of him. Harry wondered how the older version of Draco would be and before he had a chance to really think about it, Ron was already talking.

"In case you've forgotten, we've got You-Know-Who who's coming here in a few moments. I don't think that's something you should just wing. Can't you see that?," Ron started in a lecturing voice.

"I know that and you know that. And I know you know that also, Midgen," Harry added before the woman had a chance to chime in as he knew she would. "But we can't work together, can't you see that?" He looked Ron straight in the eye trying to show him that meant what he said.

For the most part, he did mean it, but he was hoping by this small underhanded maneuver would be the way to tie them together. He was sure if that they could agree on one thing, they could make it work.

"We have no plan," Draco chimed in. "We're doomed."

"Don't be so negative," Ron admonished him. "We're not beat until we're beat."

For once, Midgen held her tongue, something that gave Harry an ounce of hope. He tried to convey to Draco, tell him to be quiet, not to rise up to Ron's mild jibe, but it might as well have been telling a fish not to swim.

Snorting, Draco sent Ron a derisive glance. "You're outnumbered, without your wands, trapped in a cell -- we're not exactly in a offensive position here."

"You rather we just surrender?" Harry asked.

Draco fell silent and Harry if he wasn't feeling so damn seriously, he would have lorded that over him. "See?" he pointed out, not to be smug about it, but just stating a fact. "We can't gain anything if we don't do anything."

"Especially since the alternative is Harry here being put under the Veritaserum and giving up key information about our plans."

Again Harry noticed the way that Midgen kept her tongue in cheek; she must have had a jibe on the tip of her tongue on the verge of being spoke but had thought better of voicing it. She is learning some restraint, he commented. Or she had just now employed it.

"The best bet we have here is this Oscar chap." Ron shook his head as though he couldn't believe he was doing this. "If what you say is true," he spoke directly to Midgen. "Then he has no choice but to help us."

For a brief moment Midgen hesitated, averting her eyes for a millisecond. But it was the briefest of moments and before Harry could comment on it -- or even before he could even think about it properly, she had responded.

"Yes," she agreed but to Harry's ears it lacked conviction. With a look to the others, it was clear that they hadn't noticed it, worrying him even more. Maybe he was over-reacting, hearing things that clearly was not being said, but something was nagging on his subconscious, telling him to be wary. "But without prompting, he wouldn't do a thing. He's a spineless little twit."

"That spineless little twit is the only person out there who can help us," Harry countered, following Ron's line of thought. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to be their only viable hope at the moment. "But if we can't rely on his to come through for us, who can we?" When he finished the sentence he bent down and picked up that puce colored rock. He straightened back, turning the pebble in his hand. It was the only thing of color in the wretched cell -- and though it wasn't very colorful it was better than nothing. Maybe it'll bring him a bit of luck. God knows how much he needed it.

Midgen had started to shake her head in the negative even before Harry finished talking. "No one," she uttered. "There's no one here that is loyal to either Draco or me, not even to our plight. We had never planned for this eventuality."

"But I thought Draco planned for everything," Harry wondered out loud.

"You can't plan for every single thing. What was the probability that you and Weasley along with Draco and I would get caught? It was supposed to a sort of chain. If he gets caught, you come in, save him and if you get caught I intervene." Midgen's face contorted in distaste.

"You did more than intervene," Harry informed her. "You were supposed to be our guide -- that isn't exactly stepping in when we fail."

She shook her head. "Not my fault. I would have had you bumble around the island if it had been up to me but I was told to--" She broke off, her mouth opened wide. Gritting her teeth, she shut her mouth, her lips settling on a thin line. "Bastard!" she cursed under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Draco beside her looked at her oddly.

"Crabbe! He was the one to tell me to guide you! That git!" she cursed again. She looked down, hating herself for being such a fool.

Harry rubbed a hand over her eyes before looking back up. He wasn't feeling too well at the moment. Everything seemed to be exaggerated and fuzzy. He was probably just tired. It was pretty late and though he had taken a nap before heading off to the Weasleys', he hadn't had much rest. That combined with all that's happened, he was starting to feel somewhat out of it. "Whatever," he said, trying to stop that conversation. If they get off track, it'll be minutes before they get back on track. "So you have no escape route for if you and Draco get trapped?"

"The two of us?" Midgen asked surprised.

"Shouldn't," Draco tried, his voice a bit strained. The other three turned to look at him. "Shouldn't there be tunnels?"

"Tunnels?" Ron asked.

Draco nodded. "Tunnels that lead out of the dungeon. They're supposed to be a backup plan if I ever get caught."

"How do know about these tunnels?" Harry asked, curious.

He shrugged. "Just something I thought up. I'm not stupid enough not to leave myself an escape." He scowled at the thought.

Harry turned to Midgen. "You know about these?"

She frowned. "Not that I know of but it's possible. Draco rarely tells me everything."

Ron raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you were Draco's most trusted advisor," he sneered mockingly.

Though her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed, Midgen refused to rise to the jab. "That may be so," she replied coldly, "But Draco Malfoy only trusts Draco Malfoy. That's why he's so important."

"So the only reason why we're risking our asses is because Malfoy has trust problems!" It was phrased a question, but it was more like a statement more than anything.

Oh no... Harry thought apprehensively. What the hell is with those two? he thought furiously. Every single time! We've been here five hours and they've still like this! He really didn't want to get into the middle of another one of their little arguments but if they were going to keep them from the task they were sent to do, it seemed that he had no choice but to.

He turned his head to look at Draco. The blonde boy -- and he kept on calling him a boy even though it was hard to reconcile that man with a boy -- was looking away. He wasn't even paying attention to the commotion that Midgen and Ron were perpetuating. Harry frowned as he took in the serious and contemplative nature of Draco's facial expression. Following his eyes, he saw nothing of interest but a plain stone wall, exactly the same as the other three in the cell.

"You two cut it out," Harry snapped. It came out a bit more harsh than he had planned but he was really getting annoyed. All this waiting, the fighting, the vulnerable position they were in -- it was really getting to him.

The two of them paused in mid sentence, shock marring their faces. A flash of hurt sparked behind Ron's eyes and instantly Harry regretted his outburst. Rubbing his temples, he mumbled an apology. He sighed. "We really need to get out of here soon, which I'm sure you are all aware of but you not--" He stopped abruptly when he realized he wasn't making much sense. He tried again, trying to make sense of the thoughts that were fluttering around in his mind. "See, you're letting your personal lives get in the way and it's not very professional. I mean, I would expect this of Draco, but you two? You should know better than this."

Like petulant, bashful children, Ron and Midgen lowered their heads in disgrace. Both of them knew that they were behaving out of character and just a bit childish. "Sorry," they both muttered, albeit a bit reluctantly. Ron looked up but Midgen steadfastly kept her head down.

Looking at her, Harry could see her talking to herself under her breath, but what he was saying, he had not idea. Finally she lifted her head and on her face was a fairly neutral and somewhat resigned expression. Swallowing, she haltingly thrust her hand out. "I--I'll stop...but--but only for Draco's sake...okay? Truce?"

Ron looked at the hand as though it would rear up and bite him, but nonetheless, he begrudgingly took Midgen's hand. "So long as you don't make fun of my name and don't mention what happened three years ago," he warned.

Sighing, Midgen shooked firmly. "Fine, We--" She stretched out the first syllable, smirking at the way Ron stared at her. "--easley."

"Good," Harry responded, though he didn't really approve of the way Midgen had toyed with Ron, but he supposed he would have to just life with that. Especially now that they were finally getting the hang of it. "Now, what about these tunnels that Draco mentioned?"

"I think they might be there." Draco pointed at the wall he had been and was still staring at.

"What makes you say that?" Midgen asked him as she moved in to get a close look.

Draco shrugged. "It's where I would put it if I were me." He took a few steps until he was only a foot away from the wall. Placing his hands on it, he moved his hands around, feeling for something. "But I'm not sure where the trigger is..."

"You should keep on looking. Maybe you'll get lucky," Harry advised. "The rest of us should concentrate on Voldemort's arrival."

Placing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Midgen turned. Licking her lips, she prepared her speech. "I think you should do nothing."

"Nothing?" Ron repeated in disbelief. "We can't do nothing!"

Harry stayed silent, waiting to hear about where this was going.

"Not exactly nothing," Midgen clarified. "More like what Harry was suggesting earlier."

Still not sure where this was going, Harry was willing to see it through. "You mean winging it?"

She nodded. "Do as he cues. We don't know what to expect and we can't exactly plan for anything to let's just come to the bridge when we get to it. Do whatever feels right and hopefully he'll leave us alone for long enough to escape."

Harry frowned, the suggestion settling uneasily within him. She had a point in that they couldn't plan for something that they could not plan for, but even though he had been the one to bring up the idea of winging things, he didn't feel right about just leaving things up to chance. He was too much of a pessimist to believe they could have a chance if they went down that road.

"Fine," Harry finally concluded. He looked around at his motley crew, feeling an awful foreboding that this was going to be one predicament that he wasn't going to get out of. "So we wait."

"Ms. Granger?"

From beyond, a listless voice danced around her fogged mind, slowly seeking entrance. "Ms. Granger?" This time it was more insistent. Accompanying the soft question was a gentle shake. "Ms. Granger!"

With a snap, she jerked away, blinking a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes. "What?" she asked, the second half of the word being stretched out in a long yawn. She brought a hand to her face, using her forefinger and thumb rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's five a.m., ma'am."

Groaning at the time, Hermione craned her neck, and stretched, hearing the faint pops of her bones popping back into place. "Are they back?"

There was a small hesitation but it was enough to dash her small hopes. Sucking in a breath, Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't think so."

Mistia looked upon her with a sympathetic glance. "I'm sure they're fine."

She couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh. "That's what they all tell me."

"You have to trust them," Mistia told her kindly.

"I do." Propping her elbows on her desk, she placed her face in her hands, giving herself a good rub. She looked up. "I trust Ron to get killed and Harry to try to save him with them both ending up in tiny little pieces four months later after they've gotten all they wanted from them."

There was a pause of silence as she stunned Mistia with her words. Hell, she was feeling a bit shocked about them herself as well. It was just that her husband, whom she had lost for a year two years ago was now going back into enemy territory -- and willingly! But what could she have done? Tell him to refuse the assignment as she had wanted to? Tell him to stay safe with her? She had been tempted, but she couldn't. She knew just as he did the reasons for going outweighed the reasons for staying and she could never be as selfish as to make him choose. And she knew if she had asked, had pleaded and begged him, he would have forsaken his duty, damn the causes. But she could never put him in such position. Not with herself on the sidelines rooting for him succeed.

Hermione let out a deep breath. "So we've no word?"

"Um...none. At least not from them. Reynard checked in though. He said he had to leave the surrounding waters, but he will be there after sundown waiting for them."

Hermione nodded. "That's...good. At least we have him there looking over things. God knows we need something to go right now... Have they found Mulligan yet?"

Another pause and immediately Hermione was hit was apprehension. "Am I going to like this?" she asked Mistia, looking her straight in the eyes.

There was a terse shake of the head. "I'm afraid he's been found."

There was a beat before she started talking again. "How many pieces?" she asked, dead-panned, though half in joke.

"Eight," Mistia returned, not at all in a joking matter.

Hermione sighed. "Damn," she cursed silently. Another one! "Where's Ritter?" she inquired, moving away from that sad matter.

Mistia didn't even blink from the change. With her job, it was almost commonplace. "He's in Hong Kong, visiting some relatives."

"Recall him," Hermione ordered. "He needs to take Mulligan's place. Tell him that he will be assuming the identity of Louis Layton. Send him the necessary materials?"

Without having her request confirmed Hermione continued. "Tell him to try not to break the bank with this venture, okay? We can't have a stunt like last time or it will be coming out of his own pay check. He's to report Sydney to rendezvous with Herbie Gefford. He'll be expecting him."

"Gefford? The Australian operative?" Mistia paused in her writing for one moment and looked up. "Has this been sanctioned?" she asked with a bit of trepidation in her voice. Gefford was somewhat of an embarrassment to the Ministry, one that they wished didn't exist and wasn't in such a deep operation. The last time he had managed to capture nine Death Eaters, not counting the two that he killed, but also managed destroying a portion of downtown Sydney. Fortunately, it was in the warehouse district, so there weren't that many people around but it still took months for them to fully rectify the situation.

"No," Hermione answered in tone of voice that clearly had the undertones that she didn't need to. "But it's my prerogative. So make sure he is notified. I think it's..." She trailed off trying to calculate the time. "Four in the afternoon there? He should have been up and about for hours now."

"Of course," Mistia acknowledged, making a small note. "Hang in there, okay?" she said comfortingly, squeezing her shoulder before she started to leave. "Oh and I had the contents of Item 4586ST sent up."

Hermione sat in her chair stunned, Mistia's last words falling on death's ear. She usually didn't approve of being in such friendly terms with the staff but the last few days. Maybe it was Ron being on Malos Island that was sending everyone on a mission to comfort her. At least she didn't say Don't Worry, she thought in consolation. Now there was a phrase she didn't want to hear.

Shaking out of her reverie, her eyes focusing on the box off to the side of her desk that had not been there when she had nodded off only half an hour before.

When she opened the box and examined the contents, her confusion since starting this particular project only seemed to grow. Her face twisted in bafflement as she wondered why a wizard would need such things. "What the hell..."

"Heads up!" Ron alerted them. He had been placed on sentry duty at the door, half looking out of the little barred hole and half listening intently for any sort of noise.

The others rushed to their places, standing in the middle of the cell while Draco dropped to the floor off the side, trying to be unconscious. He did not want to provoke any sort of reemergence of what had transpired before. He still had the pains from earlier today, reminding him of pain and suffering that he rather not remember.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed loudly as he craned his head, trying to see something outside. "Never mind, guys. It was just a guard passing ahead." He turned and scowled. "When is You-Know-Who going to get here? It's practically dawn and the man still hasn't come!"

Harry smiled, besides himself. This was new. Ron actually wanting Voldemort to come. He wondered if Ron had ever listened to his words because sometimes he says the darnest things and it seemed as if he was totally unaware. He probably is, Harry thought.

Draco let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding, sighing in relief. That had been a close one. For a moment, he had been paralyzed, his only thought was of how You-Know-Who was coming...because of him.

Oh my God... Draco thought, with a sickening revelation. He had betrayed the Dark Lord! The enormity of what he did had finally set in.

He.

Had.

Betrayed.

The.

DARK.

LORD.

And suddenly there didn't seem to be enough air in the room and what there was he couldn't get in fast enough. The walls of the cells... Have they always been so confining? he thought to himself, his mind in panic. He had heard of the old cliché of the walls closing in on him but never did he think he would actually feel the sensation himself. Now that it was happening, he didn't feel so great.

Oh god! What have I done? he thought in growing horror and anxiety. He looked around the cell madly, trying to find some escape, anything; he just wanted to get out of there.

With his chest heaving, and his breathing becoming more and more shallow, he felt as though he was being choked, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket and smothered alive. As his vision started to dim from the lack of oxygen coming in, he heard saw a shadowy figure loom over him, causing his panic to rise another notch.

"Hey, what's the matter!" the disembodied voice came from somewhere out there.

Draco didn't answer, shaking his head. Oh god! The Dark Lord! THE DARK LORD! His thoughts had reached another level of hysteria and all he could concentrate was on the thought that he had betrayed the Dark Lord, one of the most vile, evil, powerful man in the world. What the hell was I thinking?!

He felt a hand on his arm and instantly jerked away, flinging his arm wildly at the apparition. His hand connected with nothing but air but the violent movement caused him to lose his balance, toppling his body back. The last thing before he succumbed to the darkness was someone uttering the word, "Shit."

"Shit!" Harry cursed as he saw Draco fall back and his head connect with the wall behind him. He winced at the crack his head made. "What the hell happened!" he demanded Midgen, his eyes hard.

"How the hell would I know?" Midgen cried out. She rushed over to Draco's side, dropped down next to him. After examining him a bit, she pronounced, "He's out cold."

"Gee, you think?" Harry asked redundantly of Midgen. He was a bit annoyed with the way she fawned herself all over Draco. The boy wasn't even awake for God's sake! He felt the urge to yank Midgen away from Draco and to conduct his own examination. He didn't trust the Death Eater to be thorough enough.

"He's going to have a bruise later on," Ron remarked, leaning over the three of them. He had joined the group when Draco had fallen unconscious again. "And quite a headache."

Harry frowned. He had known this was heading in a calamitous way. Ever since Draco had started to hyperventilate and whip his head madly around, he had a feeling... And then when he tried to help, the boy tried to strike him! Him! And he had only been trying to see what was wrong! The boy had gotten paler than usual, which was quite a feat considering Draco had really fair skin to start off with and there was a panicked look to his eyes that he didn't completely like.

He had tried pushing Midgen gently away before giving her a shove that sent her sprawling and then settled down in front of Draco. He ignored her cry of protest and slapped the boy gently on face, trying to rouse some life into him. "Now's not the time to be sleeping, Draco, if you know what I mean!" He slapped the other cheek now, harder by a bit, but stopped when he realized he was causing the skin to reddened. Red looks good on him, he thought idly but all thoughts about how he looked with red cheeks flew out of his mind when he saw Draco's eyelids start to flutter.

He tried to smile as dazed eyes looked up at him. "Glad to see you back with us."

Draco's eyes squeezed shut as he groaned. He turned out of the way, letting out a loud breath. "What happened?"

"You knocked yourself on the head," Ron informed him, his voice amused. "And managed to knock yourself out."

A hand flew to the back of his head, feeling the bruise there gingerly. He tried to control the immediate emotion of embarrassment, but from the way heat was most likely radiating from his cheeks, he didn't think he had succeeded. He groaned as he flinched as his fingers found the bump. Bring his knees up, he laid his elbows on top of them and place his face in his hands. Is this nightmare ever going to end?

He felt a small elevation of panic as he remembered what had caused him to be in this position in the first place. It was his stupidity that got them into this -- his future self's fallacy. And he was going to pay for something he didn't remember doing.

"Are you okay?" Harry questioned, his concerned eyes searching the bent figure for other signs of injury.

His mouth deepened in a frown as the way Harry's voice and concern started to grate on his nerves and he lifted his head. The first thing he saw was the genuine worry in Harry's eyes, mocking him and taunting him, causing him to feel even more inferior and more enraged. I'm the one to get them into this mess and he feels pity for me? Draco thought with revulsion. "I'm fine," he spat, knocking Harry's well meaning hands away from him. The other man had only innocently offered him a helping hand up. "I can get up on my own," he snapped, his eyes sending him a dirty look. "I'm not a child!"

Unsteadily, Draco shifted his legs under him as he started to stand. I thought we had gotten this part over, he thought thinking back to a few hours ago when he had first awoken. Why are they staring at me? It seemed almost as if they all had their eyes on him -- Harry's wide ones filled with puzzlement; Midgen's narrowed ones with suspicion and Weasley's with feigned nonchalance. They were all staring at him and it was getting bloody annoying!

And it was surprising that of the three, he felt the most comfortable with Weasley's expression. At least he wasn't behaving any differently. Harry... That man he knew to be Harry Potter...wasn't. He wasn't his Potter and he missed that. That boy had been fun to play with -- though most of the time it felt like Potter had been playing with him.

Everything about this new Potter annoyed him and seemed to chafe on him. Even the simple acts of kindness repulsed him because that wasn't the way it's supposed to be. Potter wasn't supposed to be nice to him! They were best enemies! It was what they were! What the hell happened in the next fifteen years to make him act so nice to me? There was just something wrong about Potter and the words nice to him that made him feel a bit more uneasy. At least with the old one he knew how to act. This new person... He wasn't sure who this person was but he wasn't the Harry Potter he knew. That Harry Potter had been a poof, naive and innocent -- this one... Well he still looks like a poof, Draco thought critically of Harry. But naive and innocent doesn't seem to describe this man anymore. Suddenly there were shadows and veiled look he knew very well from experience. He was hiding something behind those eyes -- seen something, done something to shake his confidence up.

Thinking about the past as the past brought back all the questions that had surged through his mind when he had been told that fifteen years had passed. Did he ever get that chance to best Potter? How did You-Know-Who rise to power? Wasn't Potter supposed to prevent that from happening? Isn't that what heroes are supposed to do?

From the way they were speaking of him, he would have guessed the man was alive and well but the words "alive" and "well" were hard to reconcile with the beaten and weakened You-Know-Who he knew. Plus, the very consequence of the Dark Lord walking around, back amongst the living was too great for people like Dumbledore not to prevent. He wasn't even sure his father would not try to prevent that from ever happening.

Draco mentally shuddered, shutting his train of thoughts right where it was. He really didn't want to follow it through and see where it would lead. Deny it exists or will exist as it felt like for him was always a good strategy for avoiding the usually unavoidable. Especially when the Dark Lord was very much real and was most likely going to kill him. A wave of nausea rolled through him, causing him to turn a light shade of green. What could my future self been thinking?! He's a fucking idiot! he denounced himself, not caring that he was effectively berating himself. As far as he was concerned his future self did not exist and was not a part of him.

He looked at Harry who was still in front of him, looking a bit taken back but still showing signs of concern. That alone annoyed him. The last thing he should be feeling for him is concern. If he had been in Harry's position, he would have been ranting and raving at everyone and everything, regardless if they were to blame and even more upset if they were. And he definitely was. No matter how hard you tried to sugarcoat it, he was the blame for everything. Now everyone was going to die.

He was going to die.

They had Harry now. And they have the Weasel, he added as an afterthought. He wasn't needed any longer -- not when the only thing they had really wanted was the Boy Who Lived and with him in their grasp, why keep the traitor, right? He was going to die and the only thing that had been keeping him from the fate was here trying to save him. And with the potion still going strong, he didn't even have any information to barter for his life.

Not for the first time, he got the feeling that life was unfair and that it wholly unjust of them -- whomever they were -- to subject people to the fate of life. What harsher sentence could there be? Just thinking about it made him want to throw up. Too many times had he thought life was too harsh, that it was better off dead than merely existing in his life. But he had also thought once that everything his father did to him was the worst pain he would ever feel. Now he knew he was wrong. The last few days... Those opened his eyes to a whole new world of hurt previously unknown to him and as far as he was concerned, he was never going to think about it again.

But even as he vowed not even to acknowledge that it had happened to him, he could feel his skin shrinking, almost as though it was a size too small for his body. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end, as phantom pains ghosted on his body, reminding him of the pain he had endured. He shuddered, fear pricking his skin. He didn't want to go back to that -- he couldn't go back to that. No. He shook his head in determination and fear. He would stop at nothing to keep that from happening. He didn't care about what his future self was concocting in that jelly brain of his but he was here now and this was his body. There was no way he is going to be letting anything happen to it. He looked down at himself, wishing a mirror to see what he looked like in full length. He hoped his had actually grown into his look because when he was younger, he had been a very awkward looking child, something he had always detested.

Draco scowled for no reason except to get the feeling of one on his face again. It felt good, damn good. It was almost like an old friend greeting him home again. For the first time in days, he felt like he was finally comfortable in this new body of his. It vibrated strength, something he hadn't had when he was younger and he liked it. From what he can see of his figure, he looked damn fine. There was no possible way for him to fail with a body like this one. It was wound up so tight, ready for action, he could feel the way his heart pulsed as it speed up a few beats with his growing excitement.

At that moment he knew he wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to die. I'm not going to die, damnit! he affirmed, his blood rushing through his body, leaving a warm trail throughout his insides. He loved the heady feeling he was getting from the rush. It made him feel totally out of control, but that was then that he felt as thought he was in the most in control. Finally something that fit, something that felt right! "I said I'm fine!" he snarled at the three of them, trying to dispel those bloody eyes that were getting on his nerves. Looking around for something to get the attention off of himself, his eyes fell on the dependable Weasley. "Shouldn't you be at the door?" he asked pointedly, gesturing to the said object. The venomous glare that looked like it could kill Ron sent him complete the picture. There was nothing like a prissy Weasel in the morning to get you started in the day. "Well?" Draco questioned impatiently after a few beats. "It's not going to be guarded by itself you know," he added as an extra insult to injury.

Harry watched the proceedings with fascinated eyes. The way Draco just changed like that! It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Hell, even Midgen looked surprise in the sudden change of demeanor and from what he knew intelligence wise, she was the one who knew him the best! The fact that she was perplexed by it said a lot. He had been captivated with curiosity by the change, mesmerized although he had been a bit disconcerted that a person could change just like that in a blink of an eye. One minute he had thought Draco was going to be sick and the next moment it was like the old Malfoy, not the Malfoy the child but the Malfoy he and Ron had encountered after his reappearance after his father's death. Something about Draco sent a shiver up his spine, something that was not fear but something else, something he couldn't explain and he wasn't sure he wanted it explained.

Ron started stomped off to the door, obeying but with a tint of defiance. That he was actually doing as Draco instructed made Draco's smirk wider. He had gotten just a bit more control and he liked it. It feels bloody great!

But before Ron could make it to the door, the thing slammed opened, the metal sending vibrations all throughout the walls of the cell. All four of them froze in shock, not one had heard anyone approach. There standing in front of the door was a man, robed in a dark tunic, smiling in pleasure.

"Harry Potter, we meet again," the slithering voice hissed in half-concealed delight.

Harry froze, his hackles rising as they always did when that...thing was near him. He could feel nothing but revulsion and disgust for him. Once a time ago maybe he would have felt something other than abhorrence but he had come a long way from the naive kid who felt everyone was redeemable. And certainly if his faith had been intact all these years, it surely would have been dashed by Aislynn seven years ago.

He leveled his gaze on his aggressor -- the thing he would have said was his most hated enemy, even more so than Malfoy the Death Eater -- and didn't speak. He wouldn't, couldn't give that thing the satisfaction. In his eyes, Voldemort had long since became a thing, rather than a man. A man couldn't have killed his parents and then inspired to try and kill him each year from his First Year at Hogwarts on. A man couldn't have killed and terrorized the Wizarding community for as long as he had. A man wouldn't have been so stupid to come into a cell where there were two full level wizards and one witch, no matter that they were wandless. What was ironic was that he would have felt the same about Draco only a week before. Now, seeing him as a child trying to prove to the world that he wasn't rattled, he saw the boy in a completely different light. Besides, even Malfoy would have been smarter than to underestimate him and Ron. He might have been arrogant, but he wasn't stupid.

Voldemort smiled mirthlessly. There was nothing in his eyes but a cold delight that had Harry put on edge. He had dealt with this thing before too many times to ignore these little clues of what is to come and to be rattled by them. He stood up straight, lifting his head to look Voldemort straight in the eyes. He would not cower in front of this man.

Behind him, he heard a hitch in Draco's breath. He resisted the urge to turn back, see how he was taking this sudden appearance, but he couldn't avert his eyes. Not even for that.

"So we do," Harry answered him smoothly. "I can't say it's under very good circumstances."

"I wouldn't say that," Voldemort commented on casually. "I've got you and your little sidekick. Seems like very good circumstances from my point of view."

Harry frowned. The slight jab at Ron was not unnoticed and he hoped that his friend knew better than to offense at a comment. But knowing Ron, he probably was only barely able to restrain himself. Funny he didn't mention Midgen... he thought curiously. He would have thought another high level spy along with the Boy Who Lived would have been quite a coup.

"And I've got my little traitor. What more could a man ask?" Voldemort continued, a satisfied smile forming on his lips.

"You're not a man!" Ron retorted. He had jumped a few steps back when the door had erupted opened practically in his face so no longer was the person closest to the Dark Lord. If he had been, Harry supposed he would have thought twice about making such a comment.

In his head, Harry cursed Ron for being a fool. He could tell the moment that the words left his friend's mouth that it was an idiotic thing to do. In a blink of an eye, Voldemort had his wand raised and pointed at the redhead. The curse was on his lips and his raspy voice gasping it out before anyone could even stop to think of stopping him.

Instantly, Ron had his hands clutching at his throat and his mouth opening in a soundless gasp. His eyes bulged red as he furtively sought out the precious oxygen that was no longer accessible. Frantically, he turned his head, begging with his eyes for help as his face got redder and redder due to the lack of air.

"Let him go Voldemort; it's me you want," Harry tried, moving up in front of him. "He's got nothing to do with this."

To his surprise, Voldemort did just that. With the flick of his wrist, he released Ron from his hold.

Suddenly free, Ron reserves collapsed under the pressure and he doubled over, wheezing as he gulped in air. He looked up at Voldemort, this time his eyes devoid of reproach. Harry thanked the powers that be that for once Ron seemed to have learned some tact.

"I don't think I'll kill you just yet..." Voldemort mused nonchalantly as though he hadn't a care in the world.

He must be very sure of himself to leave himself open like this, Harry accessed. But he couldn't deny that if he were in his shoes, he would be pretty confident himself. He was in a bad way and he knew it. He tried to think of way to remedy the situation, but he couldn't help feeling like it was hopeless and he was useless. Get a grip on yourself Potter, he ordered himself. You analyze your feelings of impotency when you're out of this mess -- providing you're still alive when that happens, his inner voice couldn't help but add, as if he wasn't all too aware of the fact himself.

He eyed the door, trying to see if there was any guards lurking behind there that could stop them should they attempt an escape. He couldn't tell -- the hallway was dim enough that he couldn't see if there were any shadows on the ground floor. Thinking it over, he thought of the validity of the plan to just try and attempt a halfcocked escape. Even if they should be able to get away from Voldemort, somehow incapacitate him, they still had the guards -- which Harry was almost sure were out there -- to contend with and they would never be able to get away from them; not without their wands. Harry flared his nostrils, unable to withstand this waiting and idleness and not able to comprehend that this situation might be impossible to overcome.

Voldemort stopped his musing for a moment, that dangerous gleam in his eyes present once more as he stared at the motley group. His grin grew wide as he fell on Draco and Harry didn't quite like the maliciousness look within the Dark Lord's eyes.

With his eyes riveted to the still figure of Draco, Voldemort took a few steps closer to get a good look at him. The door of the cell clanged behind him, locking with a sure click. For a moment, he wondered if Voldemort knew he was locking himself in a small cell with three enemies. It wasn't one of the smartest things the Dark Lord had ever done, in his opinion. With his back turned to the three of them, they would have the element of surprise to over take the man before he even knew what had hit him.

But for the moment Harry couldn't leave Draco unprotected and moved closer to him, a steady guardian for the person he was sent to rescue. Draco had his head tilted back, resting on the wall behind him as he stared up unflinchingly to at the Dark Lord. Harry was proud of the way Draco seemingly stood up to Voldemort, though no words had yet to be uttered yet. There weren't that many people alive who would dark to look the thing in the eye and though Harry could see the slightest hint of apprehension in those icy blue globes, Draco still didn't back down.

"My little traitor; are we enjoying out stay here?"

Draco didn't answer him, instead staring impassively.

Voldemort snarled and with a quick hand grabbed Draco's chin. "Look at your Lord when I am talking to you!" he snapped as he roughly thrust Draco's head up.

"You thought I didn't know about your little clandestine activities but look at who's where now," he continued, his hand still on Draco's chin. Harry resisted the urge to lunge over there and yank the hand away as he pushed down a wave of revulsion. He couldn't understand how Draco could stand it with that thing's hand on a part of his body. If it were him, he would be recoiling in horror and disgust in an instant.

"But, I'm a charitable person." Voldemort softened, if that was even possible. Confident that Draco could hold his own for the moment, Harry discreetly moved a few paces until he could look over Voldemort's oblivious figure. Behind Voldemort's back, Harry cast a glance to Midgen and Ron, gesturing slowly with a hand to get ready. Now was his chance. He locked eyes with Draco, though no one would have noticed that Draco was looking at Harry rather than the Dark Lord. He tried to convey with his eyes to keep the thing distracted so he could do what he needed to do, tried to tell him to keep on doing what he was doing and that it was soon going to end.

"...I'll consider letting you live..."

He was only half listening to Voldemort ramble on at this point. With each and every encounter he had had with the Dark Lord, he had noticed that he seemed to be a rather talkative fellow. The problem was that everything he would say would seem to be so boring that he fault the urge to let his mind wander. If his life wasn't at risk if he should, he would have.

Once he was sure that Draco had got his meaning, he turned his head away and once again found Ron's eyes. He knew his friend would follow his lead. He tried to catch Midgen's eyes and though he found them, he didn't feel as though he had came to an agreement with her.

Still, he had to work with what he had. Just he was about to raise his arms to strike, a blur of motion came from the corner of his eye, totally unexpected. And before he even knew what had spurred that on, several things happened at once and later looking back on the incident, he couldn't remember which happened when. At some point, Ron ended up on the ground, crying out in pain because of the jarring fall and the Dark Lord straightening, casting a spell on Draco to immobilize the whirl of blond torrent. Somehow, he ended up on the floor along with Ron, a position he didn't know how he had fallen into, looking up at a solemn Midgen. Her eyes had turned an even darker shade as she observed the two of them with the odd glance to Draco.

"You shouldn't have done that," Midgen spoke softly.

A growing sense of dread filled him.

"You should have just stayed home but you were stupid enough to come and try rescue Malfoy." Midgen shook her head in pity.

Malfoy?

"You should know by now that no one escapes Malos Island."

Her deafening words thundered in Harry's ears as the full impact of her words hit him. His eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief, the twin of his expression expressed on Ron's face. Draco would have sport one like it but being stuck in the body bind, he couldn't exactly do anything at all.

The triumphant smirk on Voldemort's face confirmed his suspicions and the only thing that Harry could see was the fallen pieces of another illusion at his feet.

A/N: Yes, I know, I'm late. :( What can I say that I haven't said before? Life got away from me as it often does now and I just didn't have time to finish it. But at least this chapter is finished right? I think I've finally realized that it takes me about twice as long as I think it would take and that life is just too unpredictable for me to schedule writing time. It's like when I should have time to write, I can't because I'm doing something and when I don't have time to write, I still can't write because I'm doing something.

I don't know if any of you noticed, but Gregon is reaching it's one year anniversary in a few days. I was tempted to wait until then to post this story, but I think you've waited too long as it is so think of this as an early anniversary present. Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me through this year and this is to another year of hopefully good chapters.

Marian of the Faeries: You wrote me a review! Thank you so much! It really means a lot coming from someone like you. And yes, they do have to get out but not yet -- not for a while yet (and I know that disappoints and exasperates most of you, but it's how it goes).

WildfireFriendship: Wow, someone likes the bickering. That's new. But good! Draco is regaining some of his personality because he ain't dealing and this is another way of hiding. Thanks for the review!

Tsuyuno: Maybe ten is an exaggeration. I'm not sure. It does an awful lot so maybe some of these chapters would get meshed or cut out. I know it's hard waiting. I would speed it up if I could and I'm trying to... But life is annoying and I wish it was summer so I can get it ahead a few more chapters in a short time, but it's not and writing has to fit in with the community service, schoolwork, work and extracurricular activities that you have to do. Someone else has pointed out to me that Ron is...not shown in a good light in this. I'll try to change it in the future because I personally think Ron isn't that bad if you give him a really big chance. Hmm...When will Draco be 27 again... Three to six chapters? Maybe. Don't quote me on that.

Janey: Don't worry! I won't let myself abandon it. LOL! I want to get to some slash and some angst moments before I even consider letting it go (if I ever do). Thank you for the review. I love getting reviews from new people.

KT: So does that mean last chapter wasn't good and was only good because it was new? :( Hopefully this chapter makes up for the last one but I'm not sure it's that much better either... Draco's headaches are because of the stress he's been through. I think he's entitled to feel a little misery after everything...

mh: Did you get my last letter because I never got yours. My email addy has a tendency to bounce and loose emails (both incoming and out). I blame AOL. I really do want to make it more "realistic" so if you can email me again...give me another review...something?

ne: No one's arguing with you there.

Moonchild: Hola! I meant it in an odd way that probably only I can understand... No, not a lot of action. I don't do action very well so everything seems to creep by with very little bumbs. Harry's not sane -- did I give the impression he was? He's just as nuts as the rest of them. He just hides it better. I'll elaborate more on that in later chapters.

A/N 2: Wow, I'm almost nearing 100 reviews! I never though I'll see the day... I had told Moonchild once that I thought I would never reach it... As always, please leave a review and as for the next chapter... Thanksgiving is coming soon and while I'll be in Canada for the most part of the week, I will try to get some more work done over that and Vetern's Day. I do have an essay that is demanding attention, but I'll work on that Sunday and hopefully that leaves Monday to tweak and to write more of Gregon. Until the next time!