Chapter One

Author notes: There's something vaguely like a plot, I promise. Give it time. Oh man, this is so angsty. And soooo interesting to write. Enjoy  review! Thanks, and thanks to my one million betas, named in the prologue. You guys rule, especially where you actually gave me suggestions. Multiple hearts.

They found each other for the first time in the Hog's Head, the only business still open in recently ransacked Hogsmeade. The strange barman served them each a lukewarm firewhiskey in a broken glass. They drained them without comment and without looking up. They got refills. They drained those, too.

Harry was watching Draco surreptitiously, nervously. Draco was doing the same.

There was a pause in which they wordlessly communicated that they didn't know quite what to make of each other.

"Long time no see," said Harry emotionlessly after a while.

Draco laughed hollowly. "I suppose we've been keeping busy, though."

"Yeah," said Harry, very quietly.

Draco was staring very hard at him.

"I didn't kill your parents," said Harry abruptly, turning around to face him with a strange look in his eyes; it was a mixture of anger and pity.

Draco gave another empty laugh, looking away. "Been practicing your Legilimency, eh, Potter?"

"No, but I know that sort of look. Accusatory. And I want you to know that just because I work for them doesn't mean I did it. Yeah, it was the Order, and I'm not telling you who. I know you… you're…" He trailed off.

"Who I'm reporting to? Is that it, Potter?" Draco's eyes burned as he turned back to face Harry.

Harry said nothing for a moment, and then, sounding almost painfully sincere, he murmured, "I'm sorry."

Draco's eyes burned suddenly with tears instead of anger. Hating himself, he looked away and downed his third firewhiskey.

"No need to apologize, Potter," he said coolly. "I probably owe you a few as well." He laughed in that same hollow way, as though he hadn't seen the sun for years.

It grew quiet again. Both were lost in their drinks and their thoughts, completely forgetting the information they were supposed to be collecting. Two shots later, Harry was resting his chin on his woven fingers, the way he remembered Dumbledore used to do, thinking about nothing in particular. Draco was watching Harry again. Harry looked up, feeling Draco's spiteful eyes upon him.

"Don't…don't you have anything to say?" asked Draco quietly.

Harry said nothing.

Draco stood up, breathing hard, all thoughts of spying forgotten. "I'll be seeing you," he said coldly. He paid for his drink and walked out into the grimy main street of ruined Hogsmeade.

Harry was silent as the door banged closed.

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They saw each other more over the next few days, never talking much. Neither considered these "coincidental" meetings odd, as both thought they were seeking out and following the other. They brushed shoulders on a crowded London street. They watched each other send letters by Muggle post from opposite sides of a street. They followed a block behind, always a block behind, and wrote the destination of their quarry on the back of receipts or train tickets. But a week later, both having reported to their fellows only once, they found themselves unintentionally together again in the Hogshead. They were staring at each other, a deadened look in both pairs of eyes, not thinking or talking or drinking, or hardly even breathing.

"Walk with me," said Harry after the tension became almost unbearable. Draco did not protest, but stood almost immediately and held the door for Harry as the left. As the chill breeze hit them, both vaguely remembered they were supposed to be collecting information on the other. The atmosphere became tense and wary as they left.

Harry looked up the main street and saw the mountain where Sirius's cave had been in their fourth year.

"This way," he murmured, gesturing.

Somehow, as they walked, the smaller, pitying portions of their brains began to grow. It was easier to see the other's pain and suffering, to see how weary they were of it all, in such close proximity.

They passed through the stile at the end of the main street and started to ascend the mountain in silence, collars of the cloaks turned up against the wind.

They reached the cave and settled down against opposite walls.

"Why are you here?" asked Harry bluntly.

"Sent to tail you," said Draco tonelessly.

"Mmm…me too…."

They looked at each other.

"You want to know why, don't you. Why I work for him."

Harry nodded, unsurprised. "You've been practicing your Legilimency, too."

"No," shrugged Draco. "I could just tell. Your face…" he trailed off.

There was a pregnant pause. "Well?" demanded Harry finally.

"My father," said Draco at once. "Upholding family honor. Tradition, history." He paused, looking around at the cave with a pained expression. "But some job I did of it. Couldn't carry out my first mission, even, or at least the last part of it." Harry's insides burned with anger as he thought of how Malfoy had been commissioned to kill Dumbledore, and then simmered down as he remembered Malfoy's inability to do it. Draco was speaking again. "I couldn't do anything. And couldn't…couldn't save them…" Draco's voice broke. He looked away, blinking, but he couldn't stop the tears.

Harry watched silently as Draco cried hopelessly, pity swelling in his chest again. He reached out and touched Draco's arm hesitantly. "Shhh…it's OK…shhh…"

"Don't," said Draco coldly, pulling away. He collected himself, breathing deeply.

"How did this happen?" he asked thoughtfully, more to himself than to Harry. "I mean, here we are, sent to collect information on each other so our sides can kill each other, eventually. And now we're just sitting here in this cave, together, acting as though we're on the same fucking side. Ha!" He laughed harshly, staring at nothing in particular.

"You don't have to serve him. You could fight against him…with me…" Harry faltered. He looked apprehensively at Draco.

"Don't," said Draco again, but in a whisper this time. Harry knew he meant Don't let me need you.

There was a tense silence.

"We can't do this," said Draco hoarsely.

"Do what?" asked Harry, though he thought he knew.

"This. Pity each other, feel…feel for each other. Need each other. Don't," he added for the third time as Harry reached him again.

Harry ignored him. He didn't quite understand what he was feeling or doing as he grasped Draco's hand in his. Draco did not resist. As Harry touched him, they both felt a foreign mix of emotions—fear, pity, hatred, determination, self-loathing, even love.

"Why not?" Harry asked quietly.

"Ever since sixth year it's been like this!" said Draco, somehow desperately. "Pitying each other, needing each other."

"So?"

"We can't!" said Draco wildly.

"We do need each other," said Harry, almost angrily, "To help each other."

"And you're all I have now," said Draco suddenly, in a tiny whisper.

"So are you." Harry gripped Draco's hand fiercely. He had forgotten where he was, what he was doing, what he was saying. He reached up and stroked Draco's cheek gently. Draco laid his hand on Harry's, as though checking to see if the touch was real.

"You'll…we'll take care of each other?" he asked.

Harry nodded. Draco looked at him, and there was so much pain in his gaze.

"Yeah," said Harry quietly.

"OK," said Draco.

Author notes: Reviews will make my life. And tell me if you think there should be a rating called NC-one million. Because wouldn't that be cool? Anyway, the author notes will usually make more sense than this, just so you know.