All Torn Down

by Obake

Draco's world has been turned upside down, and he is left searching for a ray of light.

11. Parting

Rating: R

Warnings: The 15 Years Rule continues. Herein will be found: slash, coarse language and character death. If you can't handle all of that, gerroff.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

Thanks To: K. Ashley, Blaze, Mate Park, Minna, Scratches (There's plenty of Sirius in this chapter for you. Kissing and making up will be very soon. Have fun with the truth potion.), ola (Yes, there will be more of Harper, but not in this chapter. His story will be spinning out in upcoming chapters.), Jessica (*Grins* Yes, he's become sensible about Draco at last. You have a good point with regard to the sigils, and there's a little bit in this chapter that will explain why they couldn't be used at Hogwarts in Harry's third year.), dreamsneak, Kearie, catzini, Evil Windstar, kristy, darklites, DancingRain, Queen of Cyrum, Carolanne O'Rourke, Sorceress Jade, Canarde, Kimmy, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, V, ILLK, Night Spirit, valacirca, SoulSister, Wednesday, Penelope-Z, VanityFair, Demeter, S. Maldiva (*Nods* Goodness is on its way to Draco, although not without a price. Ron would squirm rather a lot to be called a homophobe, but that's the best description for him at the moment. Only that he's a selective homophobe; he wouldn't really care if it was anyone other than Draco and Harry.), oracle (More written, now.).

I've got a Chemistry test this week and a blocked Maths exam the next—and the point of that announcement was to warn everyone that the next chapter will probably take a while to arrive. Everyone who reviews and leaves an email for me to contact them by will get an alert when I do, however.

All Torn Down: Parting

...

When the dark wood fell before me

And all the paths were overgrown;

When the priests of pride say there is no other way,

I tilled the sorrows of stone.

....

I did not believe because I could not see,

Though you came to me in the night.

When the dawn seemed forever lost,

You showed me your love in the light of the stars.

...

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

Cast your soul on the sea.

When the dark night seems endless,

Please remember me.

...

Then the mountain rose before me

By the deep well of desire,

From the fountain of forgiveness,

Beyond the ice and the fire.

...

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

Cast your soul on the sea.

When the dark night seems endless,

Please remember me.

...

Though we share this humble path, alone;

How fragile is the heart.

Oh give these clay feet wings to fly,

To touch the face of the stars.

...

Breathe life into this feeble heart;

Lift this mortal veil of fear,

Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears

We'll rise above these earthly cares.

...

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

Cast your soul to the see.

When the dark night seems endless,

Please remember me.

Please remember me.

...

--Dante's Prayer, Loreena McKennitt

The door creaked. Draco looked up from capping the final bottle to see Snape standing halfway inside the room, partially obscured by the shadows melding into his robes. The Potions Master was quietly watching him behind his mask.

'He did it, then.'

'Yes.'

Snape nodded. 'His greatest problem is concentrating. Did you test it?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

Draco collected the bottles up and put them on another shelf for finished projects as he spoke. 'We didn't have the time. And...I was afraid of what I might be tempted to ask him.'

'I see. I'll test it myself, later, then.' There was a pause. 'And you were all right working with him?'

'Yes, sir.'

Quick feet crossed the room, and Snape's hand rested lightly on Draco's shoulder. 'You've done well. Let's go.'

Most of the corridors they passed through were completely darkened, although torches lit the major routes to the castle entrance, each of them guarded by a teacher. They passed no fewer than eight on the way out of the castle.

Professor McGonagall was guarding the door. She whispered, 'Good luck,' to them as they paced out into the night.

The road down to Hogsmeade was deserted and silent. At the outskirts of the village, where there was usually a ring of wand light, only one spark lit the darkness enough to reveal a tall figure, facing them--waiting for them.

'I don't like the look of that,' Snape muttered. 'We certainly aren't early.'

'Should we turn back?'

'He'll have seen us by now. Let's see what this is about. Be on guard, though.'

The figure's face became clearer the nearer they got, and Snape gave a low curse. It was Voldemort.

They stopped a few feet away. Snape bowed low, murmuring, 'My lord, where are the others?'

Voldemort regarded them in cold silence for a moment, completely ignoring the question. Draco noticed that he clasped a small box to his chest, similar to the one used in Pansy's induction last time. It was almost hidden by the folds of his robes and the shadows cast back from his wand's light. 'I have a task for the two of you.'

'Lord?'

'Call it a chance for redemption.' Voldemort opened the box and held his wand over it. Inside was a tiny—and quite plainly human—skull; it was probably a child's, perhaps a baby's. Draco shuddered. 'I have here a Portkey that will transport you to Azkaban. I need it to be broken, tonight.'

'Why tonight?' Draco said.

The Dark Lord sneered. 'My agents have been trying for months to penetrate Azkaban, and you ask why tonight? Our strongest allies abide there, and you dare to ask me why tonight?'

'Forgive him, lord,' Snape said quickly. 'He is still a child, and not yet fully aware of the urgency.'

'Make sure he does when he gets there, then,' Voldemort snapped. 'There are giants guarding the prison from the mainland now, due to that bargain Dumbledore made with them. Agents can no longer get close enough to break the sigils holding the Dementors to the prison—but if a few are sent inside...'

'Surely there are others who could better carry out the task than the two of us.'

'Of course there are. They are isolated from Azkaban by the giants, or trapped within its walls! Will you deny your debt to me?'

'No,' Draco said. 'We are grateful for your faith in us, lord. We will do what we must to prove ourselves worthy.'

'Good.' Voldemort gave a thin, brittle smile. 'I sent messages to the rest of my followers asking them not to come tonight, since I had already chosen you—who better to break Azkaban than a spy who has been within its walls, and a Malfoy who knows both cunning and loyalty?'

'Lord,' Snape said. 'Do you realise that if we do this, we will no longer be able to hide? The Ministry will be forced to acknowledge us, and will act against us.'

'Not in the shambles it's in at the moment. And, Snape, if you pull this off, there will no longer be any need for us to hide.' Voldemort paused. 'This mission is of great importance, but it must also remain secret. Once accomplished, you will never speak of it again. No one else must know.' He closed the box. 'Return to the castle. Gather whatever you may need. I will await your return.'

They both bowed and headed back the way they had come.

'No one else must know, my left foot,' Snape growled as they neared Hogwarts. 'I'll bet every Death Eater in the school and out knows about this.'

'He suspects, doesn't he? There's no other reason for him to have singled us out.'

'I'm almost sure of it—the only thing I don't understand is this secrecy. If he wants to lynch us, why not invite the whole crowd to watch?'

'Maybe he wants to see how far we'll go to keep our cover—see who we really are most loyal to.'

'Perhaps, damn him.' Snape threw a sideways glance at Draco. 'Did your father ever give you a black box?' Draco nodded, expression darkening. 'Good. Go and take everything inside it with you. I know it sounds awful, but it may be necessary.' They entered the castle, not pausing in their pace. Professor McGonagall, who was still hovering at the door, stared after them for a second in bewilderment, then hastened to catch up to them.

'What's going on?' she said in a low, urgent tone.

'Voldemort's sending us to Azkaban. Bet you half a Knut he's worked everything out.'

'I won't take a wager so blatantly foolish, Severus Snape. Or so cheap.'

'Draco, go and find what you need. Remember to take the truth serum with you as well—anything you have that could help.'

'What are we going to do?' he asked.

'I'm going to see Dumbledore. We'll sabotage our mission.'

Snape and McGonagall continued toward the Headmaster's office while Draco broke away from them and headed to his lair. He hurtled through the tunnels, the burning tip of his wand held high. Every passage he passed through was dark; he wasn't sure whether the teachers posted here had given up, or whether they had never been patrolled at all.

Draco suddenly heard a growl somewhere behind his shoulder and he ducked his head down, trying to run faster. He gasped at the sound of animal feet racing, drawing close to him. Draco knew he couldn't make himself move any faster, but he was near the Chimaera Hall—if he could get down to his room in time, he might be safe—

A massive weight flew into his back, sending Draco sprawling on the floor and causing him to drop his wand, which rolled a few feet away when it hit the ground. He felt the weight on top of him change shape, and a voice, no less a growl than the animal's said, 'It's a little late to run from your master, isn't it, Death Eater?'

Sirius Black moved off him, and Draco rolled over, only to be pinned down by his shoulders. He stared up at the man's scowl, wondering why Black didn't recognise him. It took him a second to realise he was still wearing his mask.

Draco's hand snaked past Black's and he tore the mask away from his face, staring up at his captor and trying to catch his breath. Black's expression shifted to one of surprise and he let go of Draco, taking a few steps backward to allow him to stand up.

'Sorry, Malfoy. I didn't realise it was you.'

Draco nodded as he got to his feet and replaced the mask.

'Look, what's going on? You're the only one in Death Eater garb I've seen tonight, and I must have been through half the castle by now.'

'Voldemort's done something,' Draco panted. 'We're going to Azkaban—Snape and I. Go find Dumbledore.'

'Azkaban?' Black whispered.

'I know. Professor Snape's going to tell the Headmaster right now.'

Sirius nodded. 'I'll go, then.' Without a word more, he disappeared back down the corridor.

Draco picked up his wand and continued to his room at a slightly slower pace.

Once within its familiar walls, Draco turned to the cabinet, seeking out the box that had been relegated to one dark corner. He took it out and opened it, studying the contents with loathing.

They glittered with a malicious, metallic sheen. There were knives, and nasty little hooked devices—many of them looked like plain Muggle weapons, but each, he knew, carried a deadly magical barb. There were a few potions, each labelled with sickness or death, and a small, silver wand, with runes engraved on it. Draco didn't even want to think about what that was capable of.

Each weapon had its sheath and could be easily tucked away inside a wizard's robes. It didn't take Draco long to empty the box. The last thing he took was the wand, which he tucked deep into the lining of a pocket and deliberately ensnared it in the loose threads buried there. He didn't want to be able to reach for it too easily.

He investigated the other objects inside the cabinet carefully, eventually selecting only the truth serum and one or two extra poisons; the mildest ones he'd kept. He stood, feeling filthy. He had to remind himself that he wouldn't be using anything against anyone if he could help it—and only against proven, dangerous criminals if he had to.

Then he thought, Black was once one of them, and his stomach gave a contrary lurch.

Not knowing where to wait for Snape, Draco retraced his steps to the castle entrance and waited. The minutes crept by.

They crept back.

Draco began to pace back and forth before the castle doors. Surely the time it had taken him to get to his room and back should be enough to inform Dumbledore of what was happening?

He relaxed when Snape's figure appeared at the far end of the corridor, and ran forward a way to meet him. He stopped when the Potions Master's face came into view; his expression was reminiscent of a storm about to break.

'Professor, what's—'

'We're going to Azkaban, and we have company.' Snape didn't halt, but jabbed a thumb backwards. Draco stared down the hall behind him, but...

'Sir, there's no one th...' his voice trailed off as a section of the air gave a slight ripple and the heads of Sirius Black and Ron Weasley appeared, apparently floating. Black looked grim as Snape; Weasley was scowling even more. 'Oh.'

The pair draped themselves again in the Invisibility cloak as Snape beckoned from the door. 'We're to go to Azkaban, strengthen the wards there, and get out. We haven't much time.'

Their steps pounded the way to Hogsmeade and the Dark Lord. Voldemort eyed them coolly.

'I did not intend to wait that long.'

'We had to prepare,' Snape said. 'Lord, I am not certain that we can...'

'You will prove yourselves worthy. I am not, in fact, asking for much. You know Arabella Figg, and you know runes. All you need do is find the sigils holding the Dementors to the island, and destroy them.'

And then get out alive, Draco thought grimly.

Voldemort opened the box. 'Go.'

Snape reached for the skull, slowly. Draco did the same, trying not to think of what it was—who it was—who it might have been—

The air whispered near him and he felt unseen, questing fingertips brush his. Draco looked at Snape, whose hand hovered just over the Portkey. In the same instant, they lowered their hands, and were jerked forward through the Portkey's magical passage.

Draco had used Portkey travel several times in his life, but never in such a grotesquely surreal situation. He was feeling bad enough without the twist and pull at his navel, and as the world reasserted itself around him, he felt bile rush to his lips. He swallowed it back, and was left with a fetid taste in his mouth and a tract of stinging heat down his throat.

The air was cold and heavy as ice; Draco shivered and pulled his robe closer about him. The room around them was dark, and Draco had a definite sense of being enclosed—or, rather, trapped. Tiny, clawed feet scampered away from them as Snape murmured a spell to light his wand, and a black, rodent-like shape seemed to disappear in a corner as darkness fled the room.

It was a prison cell, although apparently one that had been empty for some time. The door stood slightly ajar, showing a slit of grey passageway beyond.

From the floor, there were a few grumbles, and a little scuffling. After a moment, Black and Weasley managed to disentangle themselves from the Invisibility Cloak and each other, and helped one another up. Black folded the garment and stuffed it into a pocket inside his robe.

'Sorry,' Ron muttered; 'I've only done it a couple of times before.' His face twisted as his eyes lit upon the skull, still in Snape's hand. 'That's disgusting!'

'It's supposed to remind us of the bond we bear to him,' Snape said hollowly, flipping the sleeve of his left arm up a little as though to explain. He placed the skull in a crevice between the stones of the wall, just large enough to hold it. 'Poor child.'

His eyes flicked sideways along the wall, and he straightened, a deep darkness buried in his eyes. 'Oh. How touching.'

The rest followed his gaze. There was a long moment of silence.

'You know, most people just tick off the days,' Black said. 'Or engrave an insult for the bastards who work here.'

Chipped into the wall was a vague picture of a rose, with two leaves springing from the stem that looked remarkably like a pair of "S"s.

'Sometimes I wonder where that obsession of yours springs from.'

'Shut up,' Snape snarled. 'It's not your concern.'

'Why is it so cold here?' Draco cut across Black's retort, defusing the tension building up between the two. He raised his wand nervously. 'Does it mean Dementors are nearby?'

'They're always nearby in Azkaban, lad,' Black growled. 'It's always this cold. Let's go.'

They slipped quietly out into the passage, the two older men leading. The stonework of the walls was broken up by door after door, each of which must have hidden a cell like Snape's. All were locked; some were barred; a few had massive chains braced across them. Often, Draco could hear the prisoners behind those doors as he went past, not their screams and pleas for freedom, but a low, awful moaning that echoed down the corridors.

The tight set of Black's jaw caused Draco to wonder whether and how much he'd contributed to the mournful ululations in his time here. Then he wondered whether Snape had ever been pulled to the same hopeless insanity. He glanced at his teacher, who held his wand high and stepped the most silent of all of them. He kept to the darkest shadows, eyes alert. Draco found he couldn't believe it of the man.

'Sirius,' Weasley breathed; 'How did you manage to survive here so long?'

'Mainly by wishing that I wasn't.'

Suddenly, the occupant of one of the cells they were passing began to jabber behind his door, loudly. He must have been watching through the keyhole, for he'd certainly seen at least one of them:

'Red hair! Red hair! Get you, I will I will I will! Come here...' The door rattled. 'Drag him over, silver man! Let me out. We can have some fun before we sing him to sleep...'

Draco's breath caught. He, and Ron—they were the only ones the voice could be talking to. Silver man? Was he being mistaken for his father? And how—what did the prisoner know about the Weasleys?

'Quiet, Lestrange!' Sirius shouted. 'Do you want to bring the Dementors?'

'Ah, Blackie. You got out, I remember. Lucky man. Yes, I remember.' There was a pause. The rest of the passage had fallen silent; the other prisoners must have been listening to the lunatic's rant. The voice spoke up again, adopting a singsong tone: 'Traitor. Traitor, traitor, traitor...'

Black took one step forward and gave the door a savage kick that made its hinges rattle dangerously. Snape grasped his arm and pulled him back.

'Are you trying to let the bastard out?' he hissed.

Black scowled and pulled away, pacing down the corridor and out of sight around the nearest corner. They raced after him, following Snape's example in disregarding silence in favour of speed. As they ran, the noise from the cells started up again—not moaning this time, but shrill, excited cries, either egging them on or shouting for them to come back, maybe to free the prisoners. Draco was certain some of the inmates were yelling purely for the sake of being heard.

They passed through several more passages before catching up to Black again. Fortunately the rows of cells had petered out somewhere along the line, so the wave of hysteria couldn't follow them. Snape took hold of Black's shoulder and shoved him against the wall.

'What do you think you're doing? We have a couple of children here with us, and Dumbledore's orders, I think, were quite clear on the point that we were to get out alive!'

'In case you hadn't noticed,' Sirius grated, 'I was heading for the nearest ward.'

'I don't believe you could have failed to hear the commotion you just caused. The Dementors will be able to follow it directly to us—' Snape paused, tilting his head as though listening. He glared at Black, swept around, and disappeared back the way they had come with a muttered, 'Keep quiet.'

'That was a Death Eater,' Ron said quietly, staring at Sirius. His face looked pale and pinched. 'One of the Lestranges. I know about them.'

Sirius nodded. Weasley slumped against the wall. Draco noticed he was shivering; the cold must have crept into his robes. 'Why was he raving about red hair?'

'Never mind, Ron.'

Professor Snape returned before the Weasel could reply, turning into the corridor in a billow of black. He didn't pause as he went by them, and they had to run to catch up.

'I suggest you make some attempt to control yourself the next time we get into a situation like this, Black. Draco; now might be a good time to take that potion. Let's keep moving and see if we can't get to that ward before they catch us.'

'How far behind are they?' Sirius asked, while Draco searched in his pockets for the tiny bottle that held his portion of truth serum.

'Not far. A few of the prisoners are giving them trouble, but that won't last long.'

'How many wards are there?' Draco said. He uncapped the bottle and took a gulp.

'Ms Figg cast six of them around the outer walls of the prison. We're quite close to the first.'

'How do we go about strengthening them?'

'Black and I will take care of that. You two keep an eye out for Dementors—' Snape glared again at Sirius— 'And escaped prisoners.'

The man froze. 'What?'

'The inmates are in a frenzy because of you. Some of those doors are quite old, as well. I told you they were giving the Dementors problems.'

'Azkaban is the most impenetrable fortress in the world.'

Snape's lip curled. 'You managed to get out, didn't you?' He ignored the fury in Black's eyes. 'Azkaban's impenetrable because it's on an Unmappable island and protected by some of the most powerful magic in the world, yes. The idea is to keep out anyone who isn't meant to be here. None—or very few—of the prisoners here will be able to remember Apparition, so they're not much of a threat for the outside world if they get out of the cells, but they will be a grave threat for us.'

'That's if they get out.'

'Did I happen to mention that the Dementors were having trouble?'

'Oh, shut up.'

'I thought the Dementors stole a wizard's power when he spent too long near them,' Ron said. A momentary flush crossed his face as the two men stilled ominously. 'No offence meant.'

'The Dementors...have their effects, it's true,' Snape said.

'But some of the wizards here were very powerful when they arrived,' Sirius concluded.

They hurried on. The passages grew by degrees more winding, and there were a scattering of doors again—no sound emanated from those chambers, though. Draco noticed that Sirius's eyes grew dark and uneasy as they passed.

'Brings back memories...' Snape muttered. Black gave a curt nod.

Draco stared from one to the other. 'What is it?'

'They're interrogation rooms.'

The little group stilled as a hissing sound issued from up ahead. Sirius and Snape both lifted their wands, as though warding off something intangible.

'They must be guarding it,' Black muttered. His face twisted. 'Protecting their kingdom.'

'We'll move quietly. Keep any happiness out of your thoughts, anything that might attract their attention to us.' Snape nodded at Ron and Draco. 'Keep an eye out behind us. We'll be passing a lot of passages which they might use to get to us from the back.'

'How are we going to get around the Dementors when we find the ward?' Black wanted to know. Snape stared at him blankly.

'By magic.'

Sirius gave an irritated growl, but Snape had already moved ahead and wasn't paying attention.

They crept onward, and the cold in the air around Draco became thicker and sharper. He shivered alongside Weasley, watching his breath rise in little puffs from his mouth. Little by little, they began to fall behind the other two.

Something in the darkness scrabbled along the corridor floor, fleeing the light of their wands. Draco flinched at the sound.

'There's no need to jump at shadows,' Weasley muttered. Draco ignored him. His heart was racing and the only thought in his head was to get out of this place.

Each passage that they passed was a gaping mouth of darkness. Draco's eyes flew from one to the next, straining to see what lay beyond the circle of wand light. He half expected the Weasel to chide him for being a coward, but Ron seemed to be just as nervous now.

They stepped past another corridor, and Draco thought he saw a shift in the shadows. He whirled about and stabbed the tip of his wand into the darkness.

'Hear anything?' Ron muttered. Draco shook his head. His hands were shaking. By now he wasn't sure if it was from the cold, or from fear.

Weasley took a cautious step toward the shadows, and cast his light into the mouth of the passageway. It fell on a swath of cloaked and hooded figures a few feet in, which stirred at his terrified gasp. The figure nearest him raised its arms and reached out longingly.

'Expecto patronum!' The words left Draco's lips even as Ron jumped back, but all that came from his wand was a mist that flicked at the Dementors. It did little other than to draw their attention to him. He tried to concentrate on Harry, on the memory of their kiss—God, how much longer was he going to be able to live on that memory alone?— 'Expecto patronum!'

The Patronus wasn't nearly as strong as it had become when they were practising, but it served to drive off at least one of the monsters. He heard Ron's shouted spell from behind him and saw a rush of silver mist spurt at the crowd. Together, they backed away.

'Help!' Weasley yelled up the corridor, in the direction that Snape and Black had taken. Draco tried to discern how many Dementors there were, but they kept shifting so that he lost count. There were a lot.

'Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!' It became a little easier the further away from them he got.

Footsteps sounded from somewhere behind; there was a shout and Snape's rose-Patronus flew at the crowd of Dementors. The hissing noise rose again, now clearly coming from the cluster they faced.

'What are they doing?' Weasley said.

'It's their language, when they need it.' Black's voice came from somewhere on Draco's right side. He realised suddenly that he was closest to the Dementors, and he took a few steps backwards.

Two Dementors separated from the rest of the group and made a sudden rush at him. He jumped back, and raised his wand as they bore down—

'Expecto patronum.' Black's Patronus darted in front of him. It was faint, a transparent, silvery form, but was substantial enough to make the pair of Dementors subside, at least for the moment.

Draco stared at the figure in front of him as it shimmered in the air before him for a moment before dissipating.

Harry.

A rough hand grasped his arm and pulled him back. 'Stupid boy,' Black growled. 'The idea was that I give you enough time to get out of the way!'

'Let be,' Snape snapped. He moved in front of Draco and began to shoot his Patronus at the crowd of Dementors. They shifted apart to avoid the rose, and spilled out into the corridor, effectively surrounding the group. Sirius laughed; a mad, keen sound.

'Good one, Snape.'

'Thought you'd like it.'

The men began to cast the spell together, each directing their Patronus at a different side of the ring around them. Draco couldn't see what was so wonderful about having Dementors looming everywhere he looked. Weasley, too, looked less than happy. They met each other's eyes; a glance that turned to a glare after a moment. Draco turned away and cast his Patronus at the nearest Dementor. He was aware that Ron was doing the same thing behind him.

Black's Patronus, weak to begin with, grew more insubstantial the more he cast it. Draco watched him from the corner of his eye; saw the uncertainty and the fear that was growing inside his dark eyes.

What must it be like to have to fight these again, after having spent thirteen years so near they could have kissed him at any moment?

Snape gave a hoarse cry as a small gap appeared in the ring of Dementors. They rushed forward, and both Snape and Black managed to get through. As Draco moved to follow them, though, the ring tightened and closed in, leaving he and Ron vulnerable.

The Dementor in front of Draco was so close that its hands actually grasped at him when it raised them. Draco pulled away with such desperate force that he fell to the ground. He had to scramble to get away; only dimly aware of the rush of silver light that meant Weasley had set his Patronus against the monster.

Snape and Sirius were fighting the Dementors from behind now. A small group had detached themselves from the rest of the circle to deal with them. Draco pulled himself up and turned around to face the side of the ring that Ron was unable to concentrate on. Again and again, his Patronus burst from his wand—over and over, his mother beat down the monsters. Each one that fell was replaced with another, until—

'Weasley!' he barked, spotting a gap between two Dementors that hadn't been closed in yet. Ron turned his head, and they both ran at the weak point, shoving through.

The ring broke up as Dementors either turned to face them where they were now or moved forward to attack Snape and Sirius. Draco flicked his wand wildly, picking off any Dementor that came too near as he backed away.

Ron, he noticed, wasn't running.

All that Draco could see of the other two was the flashes of light that announced each Patronus they cast. Even their shouts sounded far away.

He stared around him, still unconsciously moving backwards. He and Ron alone were facing maybe eight Dementors. He licked his lips. It was too many. There was no way they would be able to hold on for long...

Weasley was still shooting his Patronus at them.

Draco ran forward against every nerve that screamed at him to move in the opposite direction, and grabbed at Ron's arm.

'We've got to go!' he shouted. 'They'll swarm all over us!'

Ron shrugged him off. 'Expecto patronum! I'm not running, Malfoy.'

Draco stared. Weasley was pale, trembling, and he staggered on his feet. Still he continued to cast the spell.

Draco put his hand on Ron's arm again, but tightened his grip this time when Weasley tried to push him off. He hauled his enemy bodily away, to much protestation.

'Sometimes it's better to run away than to stay and die, Gryffindor.'

Draco dragged him back down several passages before he relented and let Weasley go at the entrance to another corridor. Ron turned the instant he loosened his grip and shoved Draco against the wall, his face flushed with anger.

'How dare you?' he panted. 'Sirius and Snape are still back there, and they—'

'They'll be fine,' Draco said. His head rang from the knock against the wall. 'They've dealt with these before, but we haven't, and we were more vulnerable. Especially you.'

'Don't give me that,' Weasley shouted. 'You don't give a damn what happens to me!'

Draco shoved back abruptly. 'As though you give me a reason to! And I do care about what happens to Snape, so don't you dare try to make me feel guilty about saving us.'

'Saving us,' the Weasel sneered. 'You—' He froze as a scabbed, wrinkled hand emerged from the darkness at the entrance of the passageway, groping at his red hair. Draco's eyes flicked to the shadows; there was a figure there, just discernible. It was clothed in rags rather than the Dementor's robes, and in the second before his mind spurred him to action, he was sure he heard a low hiss of laughter, into which the words, 'Silver man' somehow seeped.

Draco knocked the wizard's hand away from Ron, and they ran. This time, Weasley didn't have to be forced.

They pelted down the corridors, retracing their steps back to Snape's old cell. Ron slammed the door behind them and slumped against the wood, head in his hands. Draco shifted to the back of the room and sank down to the floor.

'Red hair,' Weasley moaned. 'Red hair...' He looked up and caught sight of the Portkey, wedged between the two stones where Snape had left it. 'Oh, my God.'

He dropped onto the floor as though he'd suddenly lost feeling in his legs, staring at the skull in absolute horror.

'What is it?'

'Red hair...' Ron repeated, and shook himself. He pointed a trembling finger at the little skull. 'M-my sister,' he croaked.

Draco stared at him, then at the skull. 'Your sister's back at Hogwarts...'

Ron shook his head violently. 'Not Ginny. My sister...the baby my parents had after they had Charlie...before Percy. Maggie. She was so little, and Voldemort was still around. Mum and Dad were right in the fight against him, and…one day they woke up and she was gone from her bed.' Tears began to run down Ron's face. 'They knew it must have been a Death Eater. I don't know why they took her, and left the rest of my family. But she was gone, and now, now...'

'Oh, good God,' Draco breathed as Ron covered his face again.

'No! Bad god. Horrible, evil, vindictive god!' Ron's shoulders quaked uncontrollably. Draco inched forward on his hands and knees, and put his hand out tentatively.

'Will you be all right?' It was a stupid thing to say, but he couldn't think of anything else.

Ron's head snapped up, his tear-streaked face twisted. There was a burning fury deep in his eyes that made Draco recoil even before he spoke.

'What do you care? You and your family are all alike!' Draco stiffened, feeling his own rage stir. 'You don't care about anything—anything that doesn't involve Harry!'

'That's not true.'

'Yes, it is! Can't bloody live without him, can you? You're going to have to find some other way to cast Patronus, Malfoy, because if I see you blushing again I swear I'll tear you apart. Just loved that kiss, didn't you, just loved the way you had him trapped—'

Draco's fist connected with Ron's jaw before he knew what was happening, and he barely pulled himself up from hitting him again. 'Excuse me for wanting to be near something good after being thrown so close to the Dark side!'

Ron curled up, breathing fast. He stared at the skull, fear and horror fighting the fury in his eyes. Draco subsided, and an uneasy silence fell between them for a time.

'Do you love him?' Ron's voice was small, and somehow broken.

Draco shrugged, glancing away. 'I don't know. How can I? I've never been allowed near enough to find out.'

There was a great deal more he could have said, but that seemed to be all the truth serum demanded of him. Draco was fervently grateful that he wasn't under Veritaserum, which would have pulled all his thoughts and hopes and fears to the surface.

'Would you sleep with him?'

'In an instant.' Draco glared at Ron, feeling his face grow hot. 'You utter bastard. You only asked me that because you knew I was under the serum.'

Weasley uncurled a little and held out his hand. After taking a moment to translate the meaning of the gesture, Draco retrieved the truth serum from his pocket and tossed the little bottle across the room.

Ron caught the bottle, took the cap off, and raised it in a silent toast before tipping a few drops into his mouth. He replaced the stopper and threw it back to Draco.

'Ask me anything. We're even.'

Draco considered that. 'All right. Do you love Hermione?'

'Yes,' Ron said immediately. He seemed almost as surprised at the answer as Draco was. 'Why did you ask me that?'

Draco shrugged. 'Tit for tat, I suppose. Why are you surprised?'

'I thought...we're so young, and she—I thought she'd never really love someone like me, so it wasn't really worth...' Ron trailed off and tried again. 'I thought she didn't love me, so I thought I couldn't.' He paused. 'Do you think maybe you love Harry?'

Draco sighed, and placed a hand across his chest. 'Maybe,' he whispered. 'I hope so.'

Ron grunted. 'Feels kind of strange to ask that about your best friend.'

Draco nodded. 'Feels a little strange, to be saying that about your worst enemy.'

'What do you want from him?'

'I...' Draco paused, mouthing silently, trying to form words around what the serum was urging him to say. 'Acceptance, I think. Mainly. I...I want him, someone, to not be repulsed by who I am or who I was—or what I am—' He raised a brow at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably. Draco's voice dropped. 'I want someone to hold me, and not push me away. Anyone. But especially Harry.'

A drawn-out moment of silence hung between them. Ron sighed. 'You know, Malfoy, I've never known anyone who was so good at pity as you.'

He stood up, moved to the back of the room by Draco, and sat beside him. Draco stiffened when Ron put an arm around his shoulders so that they were in an awkward kind of semi-embrace.

'You don't have to do that,' he muttered gruffly.

'Shut up,' Ron said. He sounded equally embarrassed. 'You were the one who said you wanted anyone to hold you. Don't get all finicky on me now.'

Draco remained rigid for a moment before allowing himself to settle against, if not quite into the warmth of Ron's body. At least it helped to negate some of the coldness in the place.

After a moment more he turned inward, leaning his head against Ron's shoulder. Ron shifted. 'If you start trying to kiss me...'

'Relax, Weasley. The only person who I want to kiss is Harry.'

Ron squirmed again, then sighed. 'At least you're loyal.'

Draco laughed. 'Right. You'll make a Hufflepuff of me yet.'

'Maybe that's going a bit far.'

'Maybe.' Draco looked up. Ron was staring down at him. 'Why did you come here?'

'If it wasn't me, it would have been Harry.'

'And you didn't trust me enough to let him go.'

'That was part of it. But then, Harry always does the most dangerous things. He's always survived it so far, but...I couldn't stand the thought of him not coming back from this.'

'So you went instead. You're a real Gryffindor, Weasley. I should probably take notes. Then maybe Harry would at least have me as a friend...'

Ron grunted. 'We had a huge fight about it. Look, Malfoy...when we get back, would you tell Harry I think it's all right?'

Draco frowned slightly. 'Okay. Am I to know what's all right?'

'Never mind. He'll know.'

'Mm.' Draco raised his head to stare at the door. His eyes narrowed. 'Do you hear something?'

Ron cocked his head to the side, listening. He moved out of their clumsy hug and crawled to the door, pressing an ear to the wood. After a second he nodded. 'Someone's coming.'

Draco got up. 'Snape and Black?'

'Don't know.' Ron shivered. 'It could be Lestrange.'

Draco pressed against the door himself. 'Sounds like someone arguing...'

'Must be Snape and Sirius, then.'

'I don't know. Lestrange's raving mad; he could be fighting with himself...'

'I want to get out of here, Malfoy. I don't much care who's behind the door.'

Draco looked down at him. Ron's eyes were shadowed, and they skirted to the skull as he watched. Draco nodded. 'You open the door. I'll have my wand out in case it's someone we don't want to see.'

'No, it's all right.' Ron stood, and paced to the back of the room. When he turned around, his face was grimly determined. He held his wand out and ready. 'If it's Lestrange, I want to avenge my sister.'

Draco stared at him, and Ron raised his chin defiantly. 'Well? I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I? Open the door.'

Draco gripped the wood, and swung it inward, stepping away behind it. One look at Ron's scowl told him who was coming down the corridor to meet them.

Ron flicked his wand, but the spell he'd intended to cast was drowned out by Lestrange's roar of, 'Expelliarmus!'

Ron's wand dropped from his hand and he staggered back under the weight of the spell.

'Crucio!

Ron gasped, and then began to scream. He dropped to his knees. Draco raced to pick his wand up from the floor, trying desperately to ignore Ron's cries and think of a way to stop Lestrange. He turned. The ragged figure was at the door, staring down at Ron with a gleeful expression. Draco's stomach clenched.

'Red hair, my pretty little Weasley scalp,' Lestrange said. 'I'll have a bigger one this time. And you, my silver man...' He broke the spell on Ron as he transferred his gaze to Draco, who froze in raising his own wand. Ron moaned on the floor.

Sharp blue eyes sparkled as they swept over Draco. His hand went to his pocket, urgently seeking the most powerful weapon he had...

'You've betrayed us, haven't you...?' Lestrange's wand came down. 'Crucio, silver man.'

Draco's hand clenched around the small, silver wand at the bottom of his pocket. He stiffened, ground his teeth together, but didn't cry out. It wasn't as bad as the amplified spell...he wasn't going to let himself scream.

Draco did sink to his knees, though, as Lestrange moved forward, his eyes bright and his smile wide. Lestrange's free hand cupped Draco's chin, and abruptly the spell ended.

'Not silver man at all, are you?' the lunatic sniffed. 'But so very, very like him...a son, perhaps? A Malfoy son, betraying his blood? Oh dear, Daddy will be cross...'

Draco groped for the wand in his pocket, his fingers fighting against the tangle of threads he'd deliberately—deliberately, damn it!—set it amongst. Lestrange smiled his smile at him, and almost nonchalantly hit him with a force that knocked him to the ground.

Lestrange's attention bounced back to Ron, who was struggling to get to his feet now. His voice, soft and clear, echoed back to Draco:

'How much of Daddy's blood do you have, little silver man? I bet you'd still like to watch...'

Lestrange's wand rose, slowly. Draco tore at the threads entangling the wand, watching Lestrange with wide eyes.

Oh. My. God.

The wand shouldn't have swooped downward so gracefully. Lestrange's voice shouldn't have been such a purr as he whispered, 'Avada kedavra.'

But, more than anything else, it shouldn't have worked. Ron's body shouldn't have dropped and draped itself over the cell floor like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut by the flash of lancing green light.

Lestrange crouched over Ron and petted his head. 'Pretty, pretty Weasley scalp,' he murmured. 'I had fun with you.'

Draco sprang at him, knocking the man off-balance with one badly aimed fist. He punched again, and Lestrange was sprawled on the floor, but still conscious. Draco scrambled onto his chest, using the weight of his body to hold the man down. He jammed his fists into Lestrange's face with grim concentration.

It wasn't right. There was blood all over his hands, and everywhere on Lestrange's face, but the lunatic was laughing; he wouldn't stop. The sound roared in Draco's ears. He wanted nothing more than to silence it, Lestrange, forever.

Draco paused when the laughter refused to fade, and scrabbled in another pocket for one of the jars he'd taken from the dark box. He uncapped it and shoved the bottle, whole, down Lestrange's throat before he could think about what he was doing. It was a very small bottle.

Lestrange spluttered and gave a few gurgling giggles. Then a sigh shushed out of him, and he lay still.

Draco slid off Lestrange's body. He crawled over to Ron, and rolled him over so that he could see the face. Ron's eyes stared up at Draco and cut through him with the most horribly blank gaze he'd ever seen. Draco moved to close his eyes, but stilled when he saw his hand, covered in blood.

His stomach twisted. Draco shifted away from Ron, still not standing. He didn't think he could walk. Bile came rushing to his mouth and this time he couldn't fight it.

He was still retching ten minutes later when he heard the door creak and Black's shocked, 'Good God...'

A garbled, hysterical laugh wrenched from him. 'No. Bad god...'

A few steps sounded, then Black had his hand on Draco's back, soothing him. 'How did this happen, Malfoy?'

'You-Know-Who came back,' Draco whispered. 'And then, we came here. We met Lestrange. We ran, Black...'

'Call me Sirius, lad.'

'...We ran into this room and Ron told me about his sister and then everything came out and Lestrange came. Lestrange came, and he killed Ron, and I couldn't do anything to stop him. So, then, I killed Lestrange. I punched him to bits and then I poisoned him. I killed him.'

Sirius tore a strip from the hem of his robes and held it out to Draco. 'Clean your mouth up a bit with that. Good boy. We'll get you out of here soon.'

Draco stared at the mess on the floor. 'I'm as bad as my father.'

'No you're not.'

'I killed him. I'm as bad...'

'Boy, he'd have turned around and killed you in the next minute. You're very brave.'

Draco shook his head. The man didn't understand. 'I killed him. I hated him, I wanted to murder him, and I did.'

'Malfoy, people everywhere want to kill other people. It's called being human. I've wanted to kill Snape before and I know he's wanted to see me dead—'

'But I did it!' Draco shouted.

'Right,' Sirius growled. 'And you'd have been dead yourself otherwise, so you had good cause. There's an end to it.'

'Do you mean I was right to do that?'

'Right, no. But certainly not wrong. Not evil. Now, can you get up?'

With a great deal of help from Sirius, Draco managed to stand. He staggered uncertainly for a bit, not quite certain what had happened to his legs to turn them to such a pile of useless baggage, then righted himself.

'You can walk?' Draco nodded. 'Good.'

Sirius glanced at Draco's hands. He bent down and tore another strip of fabric from his robe. 'Wipe the blood off.'

Draco did so, feverishly. Sirius went and stooped over Ron's body. He reached out and did what Draco had been unable to do. Then he pulled the corpse up and hefted Ron over his shoulder. His expression, when he looked back at Draco, was dead.

'Come on. Snape's taking care of the wards. We're to meet him back at the first one.'

Draco followed him, trying not to pay undue attention to the way Ron's head rolled lifelessly against his back. He noticed that the bottom of the door to Lestrange's cell had been smashed apart. That must have been how he got out.

'Why did he still have a wand?' he muttered. 'Couldn't have done it without a wand...'

'Lestrange was found without a wand,' Sirius said. 'He was searched thoroughly, but he must have found some way of hiding it.'

'Couldn't he have escaped before now?'

'For what?' Black scowled. 'His dear master was gone, he'd have been on the run...and he would have had to get around every Dementor in Azkaban to get out. Where would be the...fun...in that?'

Draco shuddered. They continued in silence; each of them locked into his own dark thoughts.

The prison cells around them, too, were utterly silent now, though there was nothing to show that anyone other than Lestrange had broken out. The Dementors must have had a terrible effect on the inmates. There wasn't even any sign of rodents along the passages.

They passed the place where the Dementors had set upon them. The area was empty now; devoid of any evidence of the desperate skirmish that had taken place. Draco drew his robes closer about him and closed his eyes. He didn't want to have to think about it.

A warm hand on his wrist pulled him short and caused him to open his eyes.

'I'm not letting you knock yourself out against a wall,' Black said. 'I couldn't carry you both, and there will still be Dementors around here somewhere. They may not find us, but you need to be alert in case.'

'Sorry.'

'You've no need to apologise, Malfoy.'

Sirius led him on. Draco did keep an eye out for Dementors as he went, but found he couldn't conjure the nerve-twitching fear that had kept him alert before. Once or twice he stumbled against a cleft in the stonework floor.

'Try to keep upright.'

'Yes...'

They turned a final corner, and at the end of this last tunnel Draco saw a door, hanging slightly ajar.

'Snape should be back soon. Come on.'

They picked up their pace a little in heading for the door. Draco followed Sirius into the little room beyond and, at a gesture from the man, closed the portal.

'Snape will just have to knock,' Black said, laying Ron out on the floor.

Draco looked about him. The room was cramped, even with only the three of them inside. It was completely featureless except for one complex line of runes carved along the stone of the walls. The runes bore close similarity to the sigils that Professor Figg had scribbled with her stub of chalk during the midnight lesson less than a week ago.

'Why weren't runes cast around Hogwarts in our third year?'

Sirius gave a low, brittle laugh. 'No good if I was found in the grounds, and there was no other way of apprehending me, was it? Besides, Arabella is the best person for a job like that and she was guarding Harry's home...' He rocked back on his heels, staring down at Ron's corpse, and ran a hand over his face with a low, tired moan. 'How did all this happen?'

'I think I know,' Draco said. His mouth grew dry and he sat down, back braced against the door. 'I think it might be my fault.'

'You're not responsible for this, Malfoy. How can it be your fault?'

Draco closed his eyes. 'I think I went too far with Pansy...'

'I've neither the energy nor the patience left for riddles. Tell me what you've got to do with this in plain English.'

'Pansy Parkinson...we've been friends, after a fashion, for years. She's always doted on me. I didn't like it much, but I've put up with it until lately. This year, she found out some things about me that she didn't like. She—she tried to blackmail me into changing, but I wouldn't. Couldn't, whatever she said...'

'What did she want you to do?'

'To be with her.'

'And you couldn't do that?' Black's voice held a coil of anger within it. Draco wanted to stop, but the truth serum wouldn't allow it.

'I couldn't, no. I can't stand being touched by girls, and she would want me to touch her. I just can't. It's...it's to do with something that happened to me during the last summer holidays.'

Draco looked at Sirius, pleading with him not to ask any more. For a second Black looked murderous, but something shifted in his eyes and he nodded, slowly. 'This is to do with what you did at the beginning of the school year, isn't it?'

Draco covered his mouth, nodding. 'Harry told you?'

'Dumbledore told me he and Snape saved you from killing yourself. Whatever happened to you, it must have been terrible.'

'Yes.' Draco relaxed a little. At least Black didn't know everything.

'Go on.'

'At the last gathering, Pansy became a Death Eater. The Dark Lord said something about her having already proven her loyalty. I think she must have told him I wasn't a true Death Eater. She'd worked it out; she'd been watching me all year. But I thought I'd thrown her off, and…we've known each other for so long. I just didn't think she'd betray all of that because of...'

Sirius's hands curled into fists. 'You, boy...'

'I know. I'm an idiot, I should have said something before now, I should have done something to stop her...'

'What could you have done?' Black said bitterly.

'Nothing,' Draco whispered, and Sirius said it in the same second. They stared at each other. Black's shoulders sagged.

'Well, there's even less to be done about it now.' He looked up sharply at a rap on the door. Draco stood and pulled it open. Snape stepped inside, his eyes immediately falling on Ron.

'Is he—?'

'Yes,' Sirius said.

Snape swore. 'Let's get out of this forsaken place.'

Sirius bundled Ron back onto his shoulder, and nodded. They headed back out of the room.

Snape took the lead, half-running through the passages and keeping close into the shadows. Draco almost tripped over in his effort to catch up, and was only saved by the speed of Sirius's hand as it batted out to the side to catch him.

'Don't worry about keeping up with him. You'll be fine as long as you can stay near me, all right?'

'All right.'

'Snape,' Sirius called, 'Do you actually know how to get out of here?'

'I don't know how you got out, but I remember where they took me when the Ministry finally accepted that I was no longer in league with the Death Eaters.'

Black's lips twisted. 'No longer,' he echoed quietly.

Snape paused a moment later, and squinted down a narrow passageway to his right.

'Something wrong?'

'Just thinking…this way.'

Snape turned right and strode on. They came upon a tightly spiralling flight of stairs. This time it was Sirius who needed Draco's help to keep upright under the weight of Ron's body as they hurried downward. The stairway was a long one. Draco judged that they must have made their way down several stories by the time they reached the end.

Barely three feet from the end of the flight lay a door of iron bars, securely padlocked. The lock didn't respond at all to Snape's alohamora.

'This is where being thin was to my advantage last time,' Sirius muttered.

Snape grunted, searching in his pockets for something. Draco took the opportunity to sit on the bottom step and let his mind and breath catch up to him. He felt a brief wave of nausea, but managed to hold it back.

Snape seemed to find what he was looking for, and pulled out a replica of the silver wand Draco had in his pocket. He laid it against the padlock, eyes dark.

'Right. Alohamora.'

There was a creaking moan, as if the lock was fighting the spell, and a spark of light released itself from the wand. The padlock crumbled to dust and the door swung open. They hurried out into the tunnel beyond.

There were actually windows down one side of the walls here. Draco could see starlight scattered in them, and felt as though a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A chilled wind blew through the casements, smelling of salt.

'Not much further,' Sirius said. His voice held a note of relief.

They made their way down a few more flights of stairs, and Draco slowly became aware of a churning roar somewhere below and outside the castle. Snape led them through a final passage, to another door, which had been left unlocked.

'No one's expected to be able to get this far from the cells,' Snape said, swinging the door open. They followed him past. 'We ought to lock it, though. Of all things, I don't want the Dementors drifting down here and getting loose.' He laid the little wand against the latch and murmured, 'Obserare.'

A small, but exceptionally nasty-looking, padlock materialised around the latch.

The smell of salt and the roaring sound were much stronger now, and echoed upward in the cavern they found themselves in. There was a narrow path leading from the door to one more flight of stairs. Thin air lay to the right of the path, and Draco glanced down into the darkness as he made his way down the steps. He saw waves—not especially large ones, but rough.

A small dock jutted away from the prison walls at the bottom of the stairs. Moored to it was a single boat, rocking in the water.

'We're going to get out in that?'

'We only need it to stay afloat until we're out of Azkaban's walls. We'll Apparate away after that.' Sirius looked dubious even as he spoke. The boat was quite small and looked very old.

'I can't Apparate.'

'I'll take you,' Snape said. 'You get in first, Black.'

Snape and Draco held the boat as steady as they could as Sirius clambered onto it and set Ron down.

'Now you, Draco.'

The boat gave a little lurch as Draco stepped across. He toppled to the bottom, and was helped up by Black. Snape made a running jump into the boat, which caused it to dip and sway dangerously.

'Careful,' Sirius growled.

Snape ignored him. He drew a knife from its sheath somewhere inside his robes and slashed through the rope that tied the boat to Azkaban, and cried, 'Forward!'

The boat set off, rocking wildly across the waves. Seawater splashed over its bow, spattering them with spray. Ron's body flopped about absurdly on the boat's bottom. Slowly, the boat edged towards an opening in the cavern walls, studded with stars. Draco pinned his sights on the opening as though it was his life's goal to get that far, and willed the boat to move faster. After what seemed an eternity, they crawled beyond it.

Snape nodded at Sirius. 'You'll be able to take Weasley?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Draco, come here.'

Draco shifted closer to Snape and felt the Potions Master's arms close around him from behind, pulling him against the man's chest. Snape leaned down so that his mouth was by Draco's ear and said quietly, 'Just try to relax. Think about nothing other than getting to Hogsmeade.'

Draco nodded and laid his hands over Snape's, settling into him. He closed his eyes and heard Snape say firmly, 'The Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade!'

The pull of a Portkey was nothing compared to the rush of Apparition. Draco gasped as he watched his view of the world dance away from him, leaving a void of melting colours and shadows that whispered and chattered. The only thing he was firmly aware of, was Snape's arms around him.

The world burst across his vision again as he felt his feet thud against a floor. Snape released Draco as soon as he was steady.

'Lumos.'

Light fell on a room of dust and broken furniture. Sirius was already there, leaning against the wall, panting. Beside him was a hole in the wall just large enough for a person to squeeze through.

'We need to get a message to Dumbledore,' Sirius said. 'He needs to know what's happened…'

There was a dust-filled fireplace behind them. Snape pointed his wand at it.

'Incendio.' He muttered a spell, and Dumbledore's head appeared amongst the flames.

'You're out?' The Headmaster said.

'Yes. The wards are all as strong as they'll ever be, but…'

'Severus?'

Draco spoke up. 'One of the prisoners got out—Lestrange. He's…he's dead now, but before we could stop him…Ron's dead too, sir.'

In the Headmaster's eyes, the lights suddenly went out. 'Did you bring his body back?'

'Yes,' Snape said.

'Hurry to Hogwarts. We'll be waiting for you.'

'Yes, sir.'

The vision of Dumbledore's head disappeared, and they crawled through the hole in the wall: Sirius first, dragging Ron after him; Snape followed, and Draco brought up the rear, spilling out into a small tunnel. He followed the others around a bend and then downhill, bent low as he could manage. The slope ended after a time, but the tunnel continued for much, much longer.

It must lead straight to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade, Draco thought.

There was a steep rise and a hollow at the end of the tunnel; Sirius handed Ron to Snape and climbed upward and through the hole. With a grimace, Snape lifted Ron into Black's waiting hands, and then slithered upward himself. Draco pulled himself through the hole and found himself emerging through a gap in the roots of a tree. Sirius stood a foot away, with one hand on a knot in the trunk. Draco looked up, and recognised the Whomping Willow, its branches frozen mid-whomp.

Snape helped him to his feet and they hurried towards the castle, tripping and stumbling in their haste. There was the faintest hint of dawn in the sky as they pushed the castle doors open and threw themselves inside.

Dumbledore, most of the Professors, and Harry were already there, and a knot of people moved forward to meet them. There was a rush of shocked murmuring at the sight of Ron's body, and helpful hands relieved Sirius of him.

There were distraught whispers, and assurances, and people slapping them on the back and trying to tell them how well they'd done. Snape stood brittle as a twig, and Sirius was swaying. His eyes rolled suddenly and he dropped like a stone; Snape's hands flashed out to catch him before he hit the floor.

Draco couldn't bring himself to pay attention to any of this. By Dumbledore's left side, Harry watched as Ron and Sirius were carried away—Sirius to the Hospital Wing; Ron to somewhere unknown. Draco saw the hysteria and disbelief rise in his eyes as he stumbled apart from the crowd and ran away, pelting down the hall.

Draco took one look at Dumbledore's grave face, and raced after Harry. He couldn't face the interminable questions or comfort right now. Harry was more important.

Harry seemed to be aware that he was being followed, and ran faster, twisting around corners with panicked agility. It was all Draco could do not to lose sight of him.

'Harry—!'

He whirled about, his eyes wild. 'Don't!' he screamed.

Draco stopped a little way from him, shocked. Harry turned away, sank down against the nearest wall. He smothered his face with his hands. Draco sat beside him, drawing deep breaths and watching him carefully.

After a moment, Harry's shoulders began to shake. Draco's breath hitched. 'Oh, Harry…'

An audible sob shook his slight frame, and Draco felt the corners of his eyes prickle. Cautiously, he reached out a hand and placed it around Harry; ready to pull away the instant he was shaken off.

But he wasn't. Draco drew Harry slowly to him, and the boy buried his head against his chest, crying bitterly. His fingers curled in Draco's robes.

Draco looked down at the dark head, and held him tighter as tears began to trickle down his own face.

'I'm so sorry, Harry…I couldn't, couldn't stop it…couldn't do a thing…'

The helplessness and pain he'd held down to that point rushed out of him. Draco rocked Harry in his arms, mumbling and weeping uncontrollably. They held each other close, mourning for a dear friend and a treasured enemy.

No one came to bother them, and they continued to cry together until it was impossible to shed another tear. Draco had no idea of the time. Harry's breathing had grown slowly even again, and to Draco's amazement, he hadn't pulled out of the embrace. Draco sat with him a while longer, listening to the soft hiss of his breath.

'Harry?' he whispered. 'We'll have to go soon…' He cupped Harry's head in one hand and shifted around to look into his face. His eyes softened.

Harry's eyes were closed, and his face in the relaxed visage of slumber. His breath issued from lips slightly parted, whispering in and out.

'You shouldn't tempt me like this, Harry…' Draco brushed an few errant strands of hair from Harry's face and ran his fingers lightly over the jagged scar on his forehead, over his eyelids, over his lips…

Draco shook himself. He wouldn't take advantage of Harry again, not like this. It wasn't fair. He slipped an arm under Harry's legs, wrapped the other around his shoulders such that Harry's head was leant against his shoulder, and gathered him up. Draco stood, a little unsteadily, and carried him to Gryffindor tower, staring down at his soft face all the while.

He paused uncertainly on reaching the Fat Lady's portrait.

'What do you want?' she said, looking down from her portrait. She held a handkerchief in one hand, and her eyes looked red-rimmed.

'Let us in. Please.' Draco nodded down at Harry. 'For him.'

The Fat Lady nodded. 'I've heard the news,' she whispered, as the portrait swung aside. 'So terrible…'

Draco climbed into the Gryffindor common room and looked about, nervously. The room was empty; there were two doors to one side. If the Gryffindors' set up was anything like the Slytherins', Draco guessed that the right door to take was the one on the left. He opened it with one hand and crept up the spiral staircase beyond, then opened the first dormitory door he came across and poked his head inside. He only heard two sets of snores issuing from the curtained beds.

Draco slipped inside and drifted to one of the silent beds, opening the curtains a little to see whether it was empty. Seamus Finnegan was sprawled under the covers. Draco dropped the curtain and turned to the next quiet bed. It, thankfully, was unoccupied. Draco pulled the curtains aside and placed Harry on the mattress.

Harry hadn't stirred in all the time it had taken to get him here. Draco sat on the edge of the bed, mesmerised by him. His gaze shifted to Harry's feet and, gently, he undid the laces of Harry's shoes and slipped them off, stowing them by the bed. He lifted Harry's torso, half-wishing he would wake, and pulled the covers back. Draco laid Harry back down on the pillow, and pulled the sheets over him. He stood, still staring at him.

Draco stayed there a moment, fighting with himself. He won, and gave in to the desire that was surging through him.

He bent down and pressed his lips against Harry's cheek, salted with grief. Still he didn't stir.

Draco straightened up. 'Sweet dreams, Harry,' he whispered, and left.