Disclaimer: Ngggggggggggggggggggggh.

Singin' about, oh love, it's a brittle madness
I sing about it in all my sadness
It's not falsified to say that I found god so inevitably well
It still exists pale and fine. I can't dismiss
And I won't resist and if I die well at least I tried
And we just lay awake in lust and rust in the rain
And pour over everything we say we trust
It happened again, I listened in thru hallways and thin doors
Where the rivers unwind, rust and in the rain endure
The rust and the rain so thin, and I'm in like Flynn again
So go on place your order now
Cause some other time is right around the clock
You can stand in line; well, it finally begins, oh just around the block
You can have your pick if your stomach is sick whether you eat or not
And there is just one thing I almost forgot
Oh, see you and me, we just lay awake in lust
In rust in the rain and pour over everything we say we trust
It happened again, I listened in thru hallways and thin doors
Where the rivers unwind, the rivers unwind so easy
These are the comforts that be
You see well I'm feeling lucky oh well, maybe that's just me
Well, you'd be so proud of me,
oh well, if you could only see
That we're gonna grow on up to be, ah yes
We are thick as thieves
Singin' about, oh love, it's a brittle madness
I sing about it in all my sadness
It's not falsified to say that I found god
Inevitably, well it still exists pale and fine I can't dismiss
And I won't resist and if I die well at least I tried
And we just lay awake in lust and rust in the rain
And pour over everything we say we trust
It happened again, I listened in thru hallways and thin doors
Where the rivers unwind and the rust and the rain endure
The rust and the rain endure, I'm sure
Because I am in so far to know the measure of love ain't loss
Love will never ever be
In so far to know the measure of love ain't loss
Love will never ever be
In so far to know the measure of love ain't loss
Love will never ever be lost on me
Oh, not tonight see, love will never ever be lost on me
Love will never ever be lost on me
Love will not be, love will never be lost on me
Love will not be lost on me

-On Love, In Sadness- Jason Mraz


We Can Tread Water, But We Could Still Drown

issalee


Bellatrix blinked moodily as she watched Tynan leaned against a tree. She was tired, but Tynan had summoned her and she had to obey. Not so much because of the fact that she was the greater power, though.

"Bella," the Lady Malfoy mused. "Bella, what do you think we should do about Mr. Potter?"

"Kill him," Bellatrix offered automatically. Tynan laughed.

"Oh, but he's become such a darling little thing! As I thought Draco to be," and here her eyes flashed dangerously, but quickly returned to normal. "He is dark, Bella. Harry Potter is one of the evilest wizards known to man."

"Pardon?" Bellatrix said, not really listening as she shredded a flower's stem. The liquid oozed out onto her slim finger, and she wiped it absently on her dress, ignoring Tynan's frown of disapproval. She reached for another flower as the blonde started up again.

"He had much magic in him when he was born, and it could have been used either way. For the dark or for the light. His mother's little gift to him, that stupid sacrifice, forced him to make his choice the light. But now, Bella, he is approaching that age."

"What age?" Bellatrix was forgetting to be submissive, irritable as she was. Tynan shot her a look and tugged sharply at the recess of the widow Black's mind, until Bellatrix slid down the length of a tree and grimaced. "Sorry," she said contritely.

"You could die at any moment, Bellatrix, if I were to sever this connection between us," Tynan mused. "Do you remember, how I found you on the brink of death before that your last assignment; the Longbottoms, wasn't it? I pulled you back, tied you to me, and then left."

"I don't remember."

"Harry Potter is special because he was tied to his mother in that same way," Tynan gabbled, excited. "She died, of course, before she managed to tie him completely to her. If she had succeeded, he probably would've been near immune. But as he reaches the age where witches and wizards naturally take a crossroad, it's been fading."

"You researched this all?" She was forgetting, again.

Tynan didn't notice. "When Harry Potter turns 17, from midnight on his birthday to midnight the next day, he will have absolutely no memory of what has happened beyond a certain point. That, Bellatrix, is when he must be in our hands. As long as he accepts the darkness, even if it's a split second before or just for a second, he will forever be indebted to the dark, and live it like he should have. I will forgive him all his misgivings, because I know he will eventually join me."

Satisfied, the Malfoy stood and approached her sister-in-law, whose eyes had darkened to the same dark black Sirius's used to hold, in their fury and passionate moments.

"I need you to do something, something very important for me, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. Will you, as my bounded, my friend, my sister-in-law and thus kin, do this for me?"

Bellatrix wondered warily why Tynan had to go and invoke a sacred oath at this time, at this moment. She could feel rather than hear Lucius approaching, and knew she had no time to mull over the answer, and that there was only one answer. She looked at Tynan again, who had her small, perfect mouth wide open, eyes shimmering with the now dissipating exhilaration of regaling herself with the piece of information she'd probably spent ages attempting to memorize, and her blonde wisps of hair falling to obscure some of her eyes, and how she was everything Bellatrix hated and yet admired and wanted to be, despite the fact that Tynan thought Bellatrix to be nothing more than a droplet of water in a great, wide ocean.

There was the crunching noise of boots on leaves, and Tynan glanced up as Lucius entered the clearing, alone, and looking furious. Bellatrix suddenly yearned for an infinite chasm to throw herself into, or at least for Harry Potter to appear and kill her. No, not kill. Maybe torture, but Bellatrix had her limits and even she was afraid of dying.

"Yes, I'll do it," she whispered. Tynan looked back down at her, face closed off and impassive as she closed Bellatrix's hand around a piece of parchment she'd shoved in.

"Do this tonight," she hissed, and then straightened, pushing Bellatrix aside as a clear dismissal. The black-haired woman rose, reveling in the tension between the two siblings next to her. She bowed, hiding a smirk, and swept away. The parchment, she scanned quickly and then touched the tip of her wand to. Her eyes, haunted and dim, began to close, but she stopped only when she fell.

Her tears mingled with the soot on her fingers and face, and she wished terribly that she could have been, at that moment, with her family again. Faintly, a thought occurred in her mind. Could she talk to Narcissa?

And then she laughed, because the dead didn't talk back.


"What were you thinking?" Lucius spat at her, his rage clear from the way his hands were gripping his wand tightly. His cane, always at his side, was clipped to his belt like a sword and its scabbard.

"I was thinking, that your son is a traitor to our line!" Tynan sagged a little, realizing that she didn't want to discuss this at all. "Lucius, he is an Urian, right?"

Lucius didn't answer.

"Do you know who his mate is? Harry Potter, Lucius. Harry Potter, the enemy, and the one person who could foil up all your plans. Every time you bragged to the Dark Lord or to a Death Eater, or even to some random person, you would tell them that your son was destine for Great Things, with capital letters. You would always tell them that he would do things no one had ever done before. Well, doesn't he take the cake?"

"Shut up," Lucius said. "You've always been spoiled, and now you're not getting your way and you think that by lying you can make up for it." But he was pale, in a way that told Tynan he had believed at least a little bit of her story.

"And he's going to turn around and hit you when you're least expecting it," she continued, enjoying herself now. "He's changed. Haven't you heard the reports the Death Eaters have sent in? 'Odd, pale-haired boy, with blue eyes and sometimes giant wings'?"

"No one's actually seen him."

"Because he always stayed hidden." Tynan shrugged. "But I do remember having a hysterical Death Eater return to me and claim that a centaur they had taken captive had slaughtered Wormtail and another Death Eater, a woman I think. But they had been killed by magic. I sensed Malfoy magic."

Lucius eyed her for a moment, and then he spun on his heel. "Fuck you," he threw back, and strode away. Tynan smiled.

Why was it so easy being her?


"Oh, yes. And during the summers, my father and I used to practice saving drowning men from certain deaths with ropes; I still remember our mantra. 'First one end—then the other'."

Harry laughed, and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. Draco's lips quirked into a half-smile from his position on the windowsill; they'd both been like that for nearly an hour now, since their heated session had ended when voices had been heard through the door and, panicked, they had jumped apart. The awkwardness of the situation had built a wall of tension between them before Draco had held out Harry's now reduced to a squished flower glasses, and had looked thoroughly confused about it.

"Seriously, Malfoy," Harry said. "What do you do over the summers? I know you don't go out and have a great vacation, you're too pale to have done that."

Draco looked indignant. "I'll have you know in some places people who are pale are preferred, Potter. Besides," he said, sniffing airily as he eyed Harry's olive skin. "I think you're tan enough for the both of us."

"Oh, so now we're an 'us'?"

"Only if you want it," Draco said flippantly. At the silence that came after it, he glanced over quickly at Harry and cast about for a new subject. "What do you do over your summers, Potter?"

Harry shrugged, face suddenly guarded. "Er…sharpen up my knowledge of magical spells so I can hex the hell out of you the next year?"

"Very funny," Draco said dryly. "But this means you must dabble in the Dark Arts, eh, Potter? I can just see it—Harry Potter, squaring off against his ultimate enemy."

Harry's eyes darkened dangerously. "Malfoy, don't—,"

"No matter how hard Harry tries, he just can't seem to hate the damn enemy, and he hates himself for it."

"Malfoy—,"

"And this enemy, so terribly and widely known, is actually—"

Harry let loose a surprising torrent of oaths and curses, and Draco let a loose grin come over his lips as the Gryffindor stood on the bed, glaring. "I swear, Malfoy, if you so much as utter the Dark Lord's name—"

"A white rabbit."

"—I'll—what?" Harry blinked for a moment, lost, and Draco laughed.

"You, Potter, are completely and totally paranoid."

"A few less attempts on my life could have solved that, don't you think?" Harry flopped back down on the bed, forehead wrinkling. "When d'you think Pomfrey will come and unlock this door?"

As they had realized shortly after making themselves presentable, the door was locked from the inside, and no locking spell they could think of could open it. Draco was still recuperating from the use of his powers, and had only come up with one suggestion so far. Harry, unfortunately, did not want to 'shag the time away', so they had resorted to picking each other's brains instead.

"When she decides she likes me," Draco said.

"So, what, never ever?"

They both laughed, and then Harry waved a little at the window. "What do you think of this, Malfoy? All of this?"

Draco frowned. "All of what? And don't call me Malfoy."

But Harry ignored him. "What would happen, Malfoy, if I hadn't been around? If I had died all those years ago?"

"I'd be one mate short, wouldn't I?"

"But wouldn't that mean you'd die?" Harry finally looked at him, and Draco felt a rush of fury. He had seen Harry's eyes get dark, so dark that they were black, like a raging sea or storm that you were afraid of falling into, because you knew you'd never get out. This time, Harry's eyes were just as dark, but flat somehow. They seemed bottomless, emotionless, and made Harry's whole image seem lost.

"Don't do that," Draco hissed. He noticed Harry start, but the blonde had moved quickly to the side of the bed, realizing dimly in the back of his mind that Harry was one of those few people who could change any atmosphere into something else.

"Do what?" Harry asked, genuinely bewildered as he sat up straighter. "I haven't done anything, except maybe muse about some things."

"Then don't muse!" Draco cried, suddenly exasperated. "What is it that makes you so upset, Harry?" The question was wrong, all wrong, but somehow the Gryffindor understood what was really meant.

"I'm afraid," Harry whispered, stopping that fiery flow of heat and anger inside of Draco's veins. The Slytherin blinked, surprised, and then kneeled, placing his head on his hands, situated at the edge of the bed.

"Come here," he said softly, rolling his eyes in barely concealed amusement. Harry hesitantly lowered himself to Draco's level, and when they were both still, Draco sighed. "Alright. Now, let's try this again. What are you, Harry Potter, afraid of?"

There was a moment of silence between them, almost as though everything in the room that could make a noise had been shut off, in expectance of that single, penetrating question. Harry's thoughts were muddled as he glanced at Draco, and than down at his palms, and finally back at Draco again.

"I'm afraid," he said, feeling vaguely guilty that he was confessing this to Draco Malfoy, not Ron and Hermione. "I'm afraid of forgetting. Forgetting my parents, and Ron, and Hermione, and the Weasleys, who were the only nice people I've ever had. I'm afraid that I'll forget all about Hogwarts, and—you."

He took a breath, and then it was like a dam had just collapsed inside of him, because everything was rushing out. "I'm afraid that someday, I'll be all alone, and no one will remember me. They'll ignore me, and hate me, and it's not even the publicity I need, I just want my friends to remember. I'm afraid all the people I care about will be gone, and I'll still be here, and I won't be able to die.

"I'm afraid of drowning, or dying in any way where it won't be peaceful, and quick. I'm afraid of never being allowed to say good-bye, or leaving something behind. But I'm afraid that I may not pass Advanced Potions, even though Hermione's been helping me study like mad, and that my Firebolt might be ruined. It's—a memento, and I don't want to lose it. I'm afraid that someday I'll be able to see perfectly, and then my dulled, perfect little world will become vivid, and I don't want to see all the bright things just to lose them when I die. This charm, the one you put on me, it's okay because it's just like wearing glasses.

"I'm frightened that I'll trip and embarrass myself in front of you, or someone I know or strangers, and that I'll be humiliated forever. I'm scared that I'll never see my mum and dad again, even if I die. I'm terrified that I'll never be able to see—to see—"

And he was crying, not quietly but not loudly either, somewhere in between, and his sobs were caught in the back of his throat like sweet, hot toffee, sticky but you couldn't help but keep it coming. He was aware of Draco, rising up, cradling him, whispering something, but Harry shook his head, pushing out his last words.

"I'm terrified that I'll—I'll never be able to see you again."

Draco looked at him, then, with those miraculously mercury eyes, and kissed him. This time, whether or not Tynan herself had come to the door, they would not have broken apart.


Ron was disconcerted.

He'd been all over the castle, taking the longest routes to get to this part, the oldest part, probably the first part built of the whole castle. He wandered aimlessly, tracing a finger in the wall, marveling at the patterns he could make in the dust, feeling exactly as he had ages ago, when he and Harry had fought, or Hermione and he had fought, and he'd wandered here for solitude.

"I'm tired," he said out loud. There was no echo, and he remembered that he was alone. This time, there was no comforting presence to help him out. No Hermione would be waiting in the common room, chiding him gently and reprimanding him for worrying Harry, who was usually asleep on the couch, but would wake up as soon as his friend stepped in through the portrait hole.

"Do you even worry for me?" Ron asked, taking a sharp left, and the lifting aside the first tapestry. It led to another hallway, with what looked to be hundreds of doors. Ron counted twelve, looked at the space in between it and the next one, and then walked through the wall.

"Do you care," he whispered to the flickering candles lining the row, leaning to that one, distinguished and ornate door at the end of the hallway. "Harry," he said, rolling the name on his tongue. "Harry, I have to tell you something."

He had long said these words in this same hallway, wondering before how he could tell Harry about the room, and now wondering how to tell Harry about the girl. "There's this room, see?" he walked down the corridor, heading for the door.

"Well, actually, first there's a door. You stand in front of it, and—it's not even on the Marauder's Map, Harry, I had to research hard to find this password, even more than Hermione could ever, I used your invisibility cloak for the library, too, sorry—and you say Vivicus."

The door seemed to laugh at him, creaking open with that vague sound, sending a wave of nostalgia over him. It always did that. Before, he had laughed back.

"When you get inside," he mumbled, glancing around at the room, "It's always different. Not like the Room of Requirement, Harry, because you can't pick. If someone different comes in, then the room changes too. You've got to be careful not to wander too far or you might end up in the ocean or something."

Ron wandered far out.

"And I was inside this great, big stone fortress, one day. And there was this charm, in one of the books, the only book I picked out, and suddenly I was just so—scared, Harry. I read something, about disemboweling, and I only glanced at a word on the next page—Vivicus—before I panicked and ran, and ran, and I found the door and I ran back. I was late to Potions, remember? I had detention for a while…"

Ron slid down the other side of the door, staring at the dark, dark beach he was on. He could hear waves, crashing against the shore, and he suddenly wanted very, very badly to be with Harry and Hermione. He thought, that no matter what they had done, he would always forgive them. How could he live without them?

He didn't bother to wipe the tears, coming fast now, and he wondered exactly how many times he'd come back here, aching to find that stupid tower again, praying that the book could explain to him what he'd done, how he'd done it, and why.

"I'm all alone," he said, and this time, there was a soft echo, winding up and down the beach with a twinge of longing. Ron's head fell to his hands, and he scrubbed furiously at his face, and then checked his watch.

9:25.

He started, getting up to go back and check for Malfoy, when the room began to swirl. Frightened, Ron gripped at the doorknob, gasping aloud in shock when he tumbled backwards as it swung open, all the while laughing at him.

"Weasley," a curt voice acknowledged, and Ron noted, with some surprise, that Draco seemed more mussed than could be possible. They were in a rainforest, now, and it was raining. Draco scowled irritably as he pulled the cowl of his cloak tight over his head. Ron didn't have a cloak, and after a moment, Draco rolled his eyes. He cast a spell, and Ron nodded briefly in thanks as a cloak was wrapped around him as well.

"What did you want to see me about, Malfoy?"

Draco silently approved the fact that Ron didn't bother asking why or how Draco knew, and got straight to the point. Draco followed his lead.

"I want to know what exactly has happened to Harry, through all his years, end to end to end."

Ron's eyes widened. "What the hell kind of request is that?"

"One that you would do well to accept," Draco sneered, and then instantly regretted it as Ron's face darkened.

"Malfoy, you don't know what you're talking about! Because of you, I had to explain this whole mess to Hermione, and now she's not speaking to me! Harry probably won't, either, when he hears what I've done! Malfoy, because of you, I'm fucking alone!"

Draco heard the anger in Ron's voice, the malevolent ideas forming in his head, but the Slytherin quashed them and kept his cool. "Listen to me, Weasley. I know you never wanted to be in this situation."

"What situation, Malfoy?" Ron screamed. "We're all probably going to die, and all you can do is stand around spilling people's worst secrets so that they can feel like shit when they die!"

Draco punched him.

Ron tackled Draco savagely, deciding then and there that he would never protest against Draco being Harry's mate again. Draco knew everyone's weaknesses, and their strengths, which meant he knew exactly what it would take to loosen Ron up, to make the redhead forget, like he'd been trying to do for so long.

He socked Draco in the stomach, reveling in the blonde's gasped breath. "Malfoy, you insult my family," to the chest, "my friends," to the face, and a miss, "my blood, pure as it is," and Draco finally caught him in the stomach, and then both of them are lying on the ground, panting and muddy.

"Weasley, you idiot," Draco said, eyes narrowed. "This is going to take ages to clean!"

Ron ignored him, and sat up, blue eyes shining. "What took you so long to get here?" he muttered. Then he remembered what Draco had looked like before, and gagged. "Ew, forget it, I don't want to know."

Draco smirked as he stood up fluidly. "Weak stomach?" he teased, and Ron was so shocked, he let the Slytherin let him up. Everything suddenly turned serious.

"What are you planning to do with what I tell you?" Ron asked, closing his eyes briefly. Draco waited a moment, breathing in the sharp tang on the rain on fresh flowers, listening to the soft, pattering noise, and feeling soaked and cold and yet oddly warm because of the mud, all at the same time. He thought of Harry, asleep in the bed, and how Madame Pomfrey had been delighted to send Draco out. He thought of Ron, suddenly seeming so small and insignificant, and wondered briefly if he should have shouted out that one word, that word that had so totally ruined the redhead's life. But it wasn't ruined yet, he reminded himself. Everything could still be savaged.

"I plan to use it as blackmail so that I may seduce him, of course."

Okay, but he was allowed to have a little fun first.

Ron's eyes widened, but Draco snorted. "Honestly, Weasley. I'm going to pay him back for something, that's all."

"Pay him back for what?"

Loving me. "Saving my life. Water, Squid, me drowning. Ring any bells?"

"And you need his whole life story for it?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Draco eyed him, and mentally added another name to his list of people to un-paranoia-fy. Besides that, he would fix this whole Vivicus thing as well. Oh, yes, Draco Malfoy could be quite a nice person when he wanted to be.

Right now, he didn't want to.

"Weasley," he growled, "Can you drag your head out of your arse for a split second? Just tell me, and I'll—I'll—"

He was clearly struggling, and Ron allowed himself a tired grin. "You'll what?" he said, half-teasingly. Draco looked unhappy.

"Weasley, you do realize what you're doing?"

"Forcing you to admit you owe me something? Not at all."

"Well, yes, that too," Draco admitted grudgingly. "But we are acting like friends." The two immediately backed away from each other, and Ron's grin faded.

"Right. Well," he said, looking suddenly nostalgic. "I guess I'd better start from when I first met him."

"What about his childhood?"

Ron cast him a sharp glance. "And if I were to tell you he didn't have one?"

Draco was intrigued.


Night had fallen too quickly for Bellatrix, but she ignored the passing and moved towards her query. Hogwarts castle, as she had expected, had been warded. She didn't really want to believe that she could get through, but she fingered the flask of the remains of the advanced, adapted Polyjuice Potion in her robe pockets, and grinned and unnatural grin.

"Where are you going?" she whispered to herself, advancing quickly through the wards. She felt a shock of exhilaration as they tore at her every fiber, and for one, blissful moment, she thought she was dead, or at least going to die.

And then she dropped down on the other side of the wards, hair burnt at the edges and robes with Slytherin school crest ribbed and tattered and bloodied. She didn't bother finding out why there was a liquid now obscuring the better part of her eyesight, and instead gripped the wand she had taken as well, healing herself roughly, crookedly. She couldn't do this mission in a lethargic daze.

"Can you move?" she asked herself. She could feel Tynan fading; her ties to Bellatrix were not as strong as her ties to Rabastan, and even that was weak. There was no way Bellatrix could communicate with Tynan.

The lady Black mused over the new weightless feeling, with no blonde looming over, probing at her last shreds of sanity. She pushed herself up, panting with the dizziness, and straightened up her posture, letting the crushed and ruined glasses slip to the ground.

"What is your name?" she said finally. Bellatrix trudged up to the entrance of the school, and almost immediately, it opened. Two able-bodied students, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, it looked like, put their wands to her forehead.

"Name?" The Gryffindor barked.

Bellatrix thought of all the possible answers, and how she never had any choice but that one answer that always seemed to be wrong. If she told them who she really was, she could die, and be free from everything forever. But that same fear of death came back, putrid in its presence, and he remembered her husband, eyes cold, and Tynan wiping her mouth. Rodolphus had never expected it. She wondered if she would be expecting her death, when it came.

"Name and house?" The Gryffindor growled again, looking murderous. Bellatrix wanted to believe she could kill him when she was done.

"Slytherin house," she said finally. "And my name…"

"Is?" The Ravenclaw pressed. "Wait. You look familiar. Aren't you—?" But Bellatrix was already nodding, pressing a hand against her mouth, feigning shock and happiness to hide her sneer.

"Yes. It's me. Chloris Ernestine."

And she looked the part, too.


HAHAHAHAHAH! I have managed to beat the system, and screwed over homework doubly AND managed to type this whole damn thing in one day! Which means, of course, that I am likely to die at any moment. I told you I'd get it out before Christmas! HAH!

And to my anonyluffs. Thanks so much for revieiwing, and techincally, these aren't review replies, merely hezzers and luffs to my friendishulars unable to use your rather Nazi methods.

To Jools: Terribly sorry everyone at Disney is being boring. I hope this chapter gives you some cheer! Despite the lack of D/H loving, remember, I read Beautiful World by Cinnamon in FictionAlley shortly before writing, so I was too depressed to write out love scenes.

Me Myself And I : Thanks!

Vytiri: Hey, babesadullah, thou art part of my rat pack, from now on, then. Yes, I realize Ginny was there, but it's only because I accidentally typed the whole chapter with her instead of Carina and only realized it when I got to the end and went over and did it myself because Nikki-chan's sharp eye was off watching sharp--er, guys, so I missed that one. Maybe Ginny can posses peoples? And no, my name's not Leslie. Close, though. I think,. actually, that while my first name might be easy to guess my last name is impossible and you would need to know me to know it...er...maybe.

EDITED: Eh. Finally got a beta (Thanks, Nikki-chan) to look this over really quickly and I wasn't feeling up to actually retyping this, so I just changed the last part. It's meant to say CHLORIS, not CARLEIGH.

Note to all, I'm updating next chap either today or tomorrow. I've got such a headache...I'll explain about the wait next chapter as well.