Chapter 4

He looked away.

Hours passed by in the blink of an eye- but it was still morning, still bright on Diagon Alley and the little café. Harry watched Malfoy walk past through the window and couldn't help but feel as if he had been discovered; but of course, that was unlikely.

Wasn't it?

Still, when they left a cold shiver ran down the back of his neck and the length of his spine. He saw blond flashes that were really tricks of the light, and perhaps his mind, but he didn't mention any of this to Lupin as they ran their errands.

Once he was sure that he heard a whisper in his ear, three simple words, but when he turned his head there was nothing there. It left him winded and searching for something he couldn't see.

Rather, it came to him.

Lupin steered him towards Madam Malkin's after they had paid a visit to Fred and George.

"Watch your back," they had told him. "We saw Malfoy by here earlier."

"You don't have to tell me twice," he had replied.

He hadn't told them about the incident with the creams, or anything about his arrival and the night before. They hadn't asked but had suspected him, Harry was certain.

But it wasn't until he found himself staring into Robes for All Occasions that he was forced to face what must have been inevitable.

"Go on, Harry. Let me buy you some new dress robes- you're going to need them." Harry gave him a quizzical look, but Lupin was focused on a rack lined with various clothes and did not answer. Madam Malkin had greeted him then, so he could not escape.

Lupin handed him a few galleons as he left. "I'll wait for you outside, all right? You take care of yourself now,"

Madam Malkin was trying to coax Harry into green velvet when Draco Malfoy strode out of a back room.

"This color doesn't suit me," he said, raking Harry over lazily with his eyes. The shopkeeper looked up from her velvet, glancing at the sleek red cloth in Draco's arms, and then turned back to Harry.

"Then let him try it. You're near the same size, I reckon," she said. "And really, Mr. Malfoy, you needn't be so choosy- I'll simply have to check our stores in the back." She hurried off.

There was something faint in Draco's eyes, which had never strayed. 'Are we sharing a smile?' Harry wondered suddenly. "Can you catch, Potter, or have you lost all skill as a seeker while I had my back turned?" He tossed the robes over- Harry snatched them away just before they hit his face.

"You would wish that, wouldn't you, Malfoy?" Harry said roughly. "Or else you'd never manage to win the Cup."

"Now, now, Potter. I've got things more important to take care of than Quidditch victories."

Harry laughed. "Like being a Death Eater? Supporting Voldemort and your father in their plans?"

Draco recoiled a little, though the expression on his face remained unchanged. "Don't say that."

"You'll never change, Malfoy. You were a frightened little Death Eater before and you still are! Just following along like a sick little dog, is that how it is? Don't deny it. Voldemort-"

"Shut the hell up," Draco said softly, under his breath.

"How loud do I have to scream it, then? Voldemort! Voldemort, VOLDEMORT you bloody fuck!"

In a single feline movement, Draco lunged for him. Harry drew his wand with lightning rapidity but Draco knocked it away. Their collision sent Harry backwards into the rack; it collapsed and all Harry could see, plunging backwards, was a storm of fabric. It was almost hypnotic, a shower of colors that caught on the air like new fallen snow. Unlike anything he had ever seen.

When it all finally settled, both he and Draco were submerged. Harry was gasping for breath, fear constricting his throat. A jade green cloth that felt like rough silk had fallen across his eyes. Draco thumbed a corner of it and, doing so, just grazed Harry's cheek; his touch was icy and recalled a place above the clouds.

"Finally, the right cloth. No," He slipped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Don't you dare say that again, Potter. I mean threats when I give them. I might've killed you last night."

"You knew," Harry tried to say, but it was difficult to form words under Draco's fingers. All he could see was green, but he heard the hiss of cloth against cloth and the distant humming of Madam Malkin in the back room, and Draco's voice dominated the foreground. The fingers of Draco's left hand pressed lightly into his throat, a mock-strangulation. Draco's voice, Draco's lips. And when the silence came, Draco's breath that seemed to mute his own.

"How'd you like my acting, Potter? You always thought I was psychotic; I knew it would fool you. I've gotten better since third year, wouldn't you say?" Draco was enjoying this, Harry realized; it woke him out of whatever idiotic...stupor he had fallen into. He shoved the hand away.

But then his arms were pinned to the ground; Harry struggled and the cloth slid off one eye. "Get off me, what do you think you're doing, Malfoy? GET OFF!"

Draco sneered. "You think you're so great, but what is this? No wand, no self-defense; are you enjoying this as much as I am?"

"More," he said between clenched teeth.

"You had got feathers in your hair, Potter. How disgustingly predictable of you. And there, my wand? Do you see me holding it in my hand?"

"No."

"Do you feel it brushing your scar?"

"Yes."

"Then, surprise- you're going to die Potter."

Harry felt his wand at his fingertips and retrieved it to jab at Draco's heart. "Reducto!"

Draco barely knew what happened. A pain flew through his chest and out the other side like an arrow fired at close range. He cried out and pushed himself backwards, off Potter, only to fall to his knees three feet away. His eyes were wide and his mouth parted slightly in shock.

He had pulled the cloth from Harry's eyes in the process. Now, it was clutched in his fist and pressed against his chest and the pain. Looking down on it, he was afraid to let go of it and see. It swept the floor beneath him, tangled between his knees.

He drew it away. Harry made for the door, not wanting to watch death again.

He never made it out. There was blood on the cloth and Harry saw Draco's eyes roll back as he fell forward. With his hand on the doorknob and Madam Malkin whistling nearby, Harry watched and wondered what the hell he had done.

Then he returned, working quickly, but it seemed that Draco would not wake. Swearing, Harry grabbed one arm and slung it over his shoulder. Though Draco was thin, it was difficult moving with limp legs dragging on the floor behind them, and dead weight is more ominous than weight otherwise.

Harry swore every curse he knew, and then swore them all again, a constant muttering under his breath. They made it to the door. Getting his invisibility cloak across the both of them was a difficult operation, with Draco propped against his back. He was forced to master an awkward sort of flick with the cloak between his teeth.

But somehow he managed, and afterwards when they walked by Lupin, unnoticed, Harry's heartbeat and restless breath sounded together and the excitement set him at ease.

After all, action was his expertise.

Draco opened his eyes blurrily.

Harry was asleep in on a couch nearby, next to Zacharias Smith, a player Draco recognized from the Hufflepuff team.

Lying on his stomach, Draco felt suffocated by his own body heat. He could not focus, but there was that lolling motion of the wand, like driftwood rocked by the sea; he held onto it as if shipwrecked and no one else would come along. Meanwhile, Zacharias was studying him quietly, rolling his wand back and forth in his fingers.

"You awake?" he heard, but it was as changeful and erratic as a fitful dream. Sound shifted in and out and sometimes seemed like a roar in his ears. Other times the world was entirely too silent.

"Hello, are you awake? I can see your eyes open, like slits." A dull pain in his heart.

"When did I become some sort of caretaker? First Harry, and now, you. I don't know why I bother." He breathed so damn loud. Like a windstorm. Draco wondered if he would go deaf. He groaned and stirred and the heat broke around him.

"You don't deserve anything of this. Harry practically killed himself getting you here, and then trying to heal you. That's decency, you arse. Though I suppose I'd never say that to his face." Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

But it would not stop. "So has your father killed them yet? My family, that is. I'm just trying to make conversation, so make an effort if you would; I haven't got anything else to banter about." Draco thought of the scream.

"Hmm. You feel ill, is that it? Well, then. I don't bloody care."

Draco's tongue was dry in his mouth. When he spoke his words were parched and dry. "Yes..."

"What?" asked Zacharias sharply.

"They...my father...they were killed..."

Zacharias went so pale. He stood up with his hands hidden away in his pockets; they were shaking.

 "He...he didn't want to...quarantined...they amused him, but I told him that I would kill them for him...spared them..."

"Spared them shit!" he spat. He flew to his feet and threw down the wand, his shoulders trembling. "Get out! I don't care if Harry's noble- I'm not and I feel none of his bloody pity for you! I'll give you last chance before I kill you, I swear I will, I-"

He stopped with his eyes still glowing with rage. They quickly went unfocused, empty, carefree.

Draco lowered his wand. "Go home," he said softly. "Your family will be along soon." Zacharias smiled hollowly and left.

Draco watched; the Smith family would never come home, only Zacharias.

Slats of light came through the blinds and the room was lit a deep golden brown.  Harry slept on. Draco rounded on him, sitting down where Zacharias' body warmth still lingered. He leant over and whispered into Harry's ear, swaying slightly, and then planted one hand near Harry's knee for balance.

"Did you see that, Potter?" he began, barely audible. "I gave your friend a Memory Charm and sent him on his way. I spared him." He brushed the hair away from Harry's eyes with unsteady fingers. "And perhaps I'll spare you one last time, what do you say?" A pause. "You're much more companionable when you're asleep, Potter. You can't disagree with me. No, the world would be better place if people agreed with me more."

He felt on the brink of collapse and Harry's breath along the line of his throat. "Why don't you speak your mind, Potter?" Another pause. "I'll spare you, I'll spare you...I'm saving your life, does that mean you're in my debt?" A weak laugh. "But only this time. I never go back on my word.

"Obliviate."

Harry slept on, and Draco rose. A gold watch gleamed in Harry's pocket and, intrigued, Draco took it. It swung open precariously just as he was about to put it away; he glimpsed black hair, a minute hand, and a frown before flipping it shut.

Before flipping the door shut as well.

"Be ready next time, Potter."