Chapter Thirteen: Fighting the Enemy

Dumbledore was already there, facing them calmly, alone except for the fiery bird on his shoulder.

"You are trespassing," he told them, as if they were everyday delinquents.

A cold laugh that sounded a lot like a certain older Malfoy rang through the hall. Through the mask, Harry noticed that the cold silver eyes were looking straight at him and cursed under his breath. Malfoy knew they were here.

Like lightning, Malfoy raised his wand and a bolt of green light flashed towards the spot where Harry and his friends huddled.

Harry's first instinct was to throw himself upon Draco, which caused them both to lose their balance. The two boys tumbled down the rest of the stairs and landed in a tangled heap at the bottom. Harry quickly extracted himself and crouched, wand at the ready. He needn't of bothered; Malfoy's eyes were all for his son.

"Draco," he sneered. Harry couldn't see his expression, but he could practically hear his lip curl. "What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing with Potter, boy? I knew you had betrayed your true, pureblood, friends, but this is a low I would never have expected you to drop to. However, you seem to be good at disappointing me lately."

Draco's expression never changed, but Harry knew him too well to think for a moment that he didn't care. He was angry, sad, and hurt. Harry's grip tightened on his wand and emerald eyes flashed. This was starting to get personal.

"Where's your master, anyway?" Harry asked, keeping a calm mask over his anger—a trick he had learned from a certain blond Slytherin. By now, the other Gryffindors had recovered enough from their shock to come forward. Harry felt them at his back, but they were still hidden by the railing and he was fairly sure the Death Eaters hadn't seen them yet.

"My master has more important things to concern himself with than you," Malfoy said haughtily.

"You mean he's afraid to fight us."

"My master fears no one, Potter. Us? Are you so high and mighty now, Potter, that you refer to yourself in the plural?" Harry remained silent and Lucius' pale eyes shifted to Draco with a dry laugh. "Why would my son help you, Potter? He will betray you when you least expect it, trust me. He cares for no one except himself."

Beside him, Harry could feel Draco taking every word like a physical blow. "That just goes to show that you don't know your son very well, Mr. Malfoy."

"And you think you know him so much better?"

"Yes, I do," Harry said matter-of-factly. As soon as he said it, Harry felt Lucius' mercurial temper make the abrupt shift from amused to furious and discretely cast a shield charm upon himself.

"How dare you accuse me of not knowing my own son!" He spat, firing a glowing red spell at Harry. The shield absorbed it before it could cause any harm—although it was strong enough to cause the shield to disintegrate—but that didn't stop the three different spells that blasted from behind Harry. The other Gryffindors stood in full view, wands raised, faces angry.

"I see you brought your entire posse with you Potter. How characteristically cowardly of you," Lucius said in a bored voice.

Another spell was fired. By Neville Longbottom.

And all hell broke lose.

The man Neville hit went down on his knees, but whatever spell Neville used didn't last for long. He was up again in moments.

By then the rest of the Death Eaters had cast miscellaneous curses that were blocked and returned by the Hogwarts students. Harry had taught them well during DA. Out of the corner of his eye, as he attempted to stay out of the crossfire, Harry noticed that the only ones not fighting were the two Malfoys. Lucius had removed his skull mask and he and his son stood there staring at each other in a silent contest of wills.

"Daddy," Draco whimpered suddenly, shocking Harry, who then almost got hit by a sickly yellow curse.

"Yes, my son. My boy." Lucius replied cajolingly. " Come with me. You belong with me."

Draco cast a frightened look at Harry that tore at his heart. He had never seen Draco look so lost, so scared, so... innocent. Hermione grabbed his arm and he spun around.

"You know what's going on!" she told him quickly, keeping half and eye out for incoming curses.

"I do?" That was news to him.

"It's the Parvulus curse, Harry! You know how to fight it better than any of us!"

Oh, right. Thank Merlin for Hermione and her clear head.

"Yes, Daddy." Draco's childlike voice penetrated through Harry's fear-clouded thoughts.

"No, wait!" he said, grabbing Draco's shoulder as he tried to leave with his father. Big silver eyes stared back at him. "Adultus!" he said with a quick swipe of his wand. Draco continued to stare at him and Lucius started pulling on his arm.

"Let's go, son."

Damn! Why wouldn't Harry's brain work? What else was he supposed to do? Draco turned and started following his father again, but Harry grabbed his hand and threaded his fingers through Draco's. "Remember all the times we'd walk through the halls like this, laughing at all the looks we got from everyone?" He asked, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of Draco's hand, trying desperately to pull him back to the present. "Remember the first time we caught Snape smiling at us when we were acting affectionate in class? He took fifteen points from both of us; he was so mad that I had seen that he had a heart. Remember the time Filch caught us making out behind that statue on the fourth floor? The sight of two boys kissing appalled him so much that he was too busy making puffer-fish faces to remember to give us detention." He ignored the shocked and disgusted looks he was getting from Lucius and focused instead on Draco's eyes. He could almost swear he could see him struggling in those silvery depths.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Potter?" Lucius demanded.
Still ignoring Draco's bastard of a father, Harry continued. "Remember how you used to hold me after I had a nightmare, let me talk through it until I fell back asleep again? Did you notice that after sleeping with you for a week, I stopped having nightmares? You're my boyfriend, Draco. My partner. I need you. You protect me from the demons that haunted my dreams."

Draco faltered and Harry held his breath.

Lucius, catching on quickly, jumped in. "Draco Lucius Malfoy. You are my son, my only heir. What would I do without you?"

Die and go to hell, Harry thought, but he figured saying it out loud might alienate the child part of Draco's mind.

"Draco," he whispered, unsure of what else to try.

"He's my daddy," Draco said simply. "I should always do what my daddy says. Right?" He looked confident until the last word, then looked a little lost again.

"Of course, Draco. That's my boy."

Harry felt anger bubbling up inside of him, scalding and explosive. That bastard was offering Draco the acceptance that the child in him had always craved, but never received—and it was all a lie. As soon as he got Draco to do what he wanted, he would go back to the cold, disdainful man he had always been.

"Draco, you don't always have to do what your daddy tells you," he said softly. "You should do what you feel is right here," he said, putting his hand on Draco's chest, over his heart, "and here," he said, moving his hand to Draco's head. "Right now, try to think for yourself. You know me better than anyone else. I try to always be there for you; I need you to stay here with me. I love you, Draco," he said solemnly, staring into the other boy's eyes. "With all my heart, I swear."

Draco's eyes changed. They were darker, wiser, angrier. Harry gulped, hoping that intense glare was not meant for him. After a moment, Draco gave him a sad half-smile and winked, and Harry breathed easier. Realizing that Draco didn't want his father to know that he was back to normal, Harry continued.

"Draco, please..." he whispered, trying to look properly sad and hopeless when he was really dancing for joy inside. It must have worked because Lucius smirked and started talking to Draco again in that sickening, condescending voice.

"Come with your daddy, Draco. I'll keep you safe from all the bad people."

Something in Draco seemed to snap. Without sparing a thought for his wand, Draco swung around and punched Lucius in the face. Hard.

"You are the bad people," Draco informed him.

Lucius went sprawling on the floor, but nobody else seemed to notice. He sat up, wincing and holding his nose, which was spurting blood all over the place.

"You broke my nose, you little bastard!" Lucius screeched. "My own son!"

"I was never your son," Draco said coldly. "Not the son you wanted me to be, anyway." Instinctively, Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's waist from behind and Draco leaned back into Harry's comforting warmth.

"Well, that's true enough, anyway," Lucius said derisively, eying the couple with disgust. "So you two really are queer lovers, aren't you? How appalling. I'm sure my master is going to be very interested by this... development. Then he broke into an insane grin, the blood that was still running down his face making him look even more demented. "Then again, since I'm planning on killing you, it won't really matter anyway."

"You would really kill your own son?" Harry asked quietly.

"You heard the boy—even he claims he isn't my son. And you pointed out that I don't know him at all, which seems to be accurate. So it would be like killing a stranger, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Harry stared at the patriarch of the Malfoy family, deeply disturbed by the way his mind worked. Draco and Lucius began exchanging curses and Harry took the opportunity to step away and check up on his little army.

He spotted Hermione over on the other side of the hall with two Death Eaters at her mercy. Not only did she have an extensive arsenal of memorized spells, she had the speed to shoot them off one after another. Ron wasn't far away from her, but was having a bit more trouble keeping up with his. Ginny was a bit behind Harry, using the railing of the staircase as an extra shield as she fought a close battle against the two Death Eaters that had cornered her. Dumbledore was, of course, having no trouble with the remaining two. Neville had gone down early on, and Harry wanted desperately to get to him, to make sure he was still alive.

Harry hit one of Ginny's Death Eaters with a Stupefy spell from behind. He didn't see it coming, so wasn't able to shield. Ginny flashed him a relieved grin, grateful that she only had to worry about one now. Her remaining Death Eater made the mistake of turning to see where the Stupefy spell had come from, and Ginny got him when he wasn't looking.

"Check Neville!" he yelled to her, and she nodded and dashed over to where Neville was sprawled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron fall, and, after hitting his Death Eater with a curse, started to run over to check on his best mate. He turned first, quickly, to see how Draco was faring against Lucius. The moment he moved his head he was blinded by a flare of green light. Harry blinked frantically, green stars dancing in front of his eyes. As soon as they cleared, he sought out his boyfriend, and his heart stopped.

Draco was lying sprawled limply on the floor, his father standing over him and laughing.

And then the world exploded.

Friend and foe alike went to their knees and covered their heads, trying to protect themselves from the eruption of unfettered magic pouring from the raven-haired boy who knelt in the middle of the floor, holding his head in his hands.

Bits of rubble changed form. Pebbles became Hagrid-sized boulders. Chunks of wood and marble became cats and umbrellas, articles of clothing, and glittering jewels. Splinters morphed into purple goo that oozed around the knees of the prone figures in the Hall.

The wild magic was a physical wind, which mutated every non-living thing that it touched. The debris changed and changed again, until what was once a quill became a boot, which then became bread pudding. Everything was moving, glowing, distorting, and over it all was a high, desperate keening.

Slowly things began to calm down as Harry exhausted his power. There were still skunks and socks all over the place, but they didn't become anything else. The wind died down and the glow faded, but the keening continued.

It took a moment for the disoriented students to realize that the sound was coming from Harry himself. After exchanging looks, Ginny went around Stupefying any Death Eater who looked like they were even thinking about moving—which wasn't many—and Hermione went to Harry.

She knelt beside him, her arm around his shoulders.

"Harry," she said quietly. There was no reaction and the frantic wailing continued. "Harry," she said a bit more firmly. "Harry!" She smacked him sharply upside the head, and he became abruptly silent. "Harry, listen to me. We need you to get up. You didn't do anything wrong, Harry. It wasn't your fault—are you listening to me?" It was pretty clear he wasn't. "Harry, go check Neville and Ron. Now." He didn't move. "Harry, you're being selfish. Professor Dumbledore is unconscious—probably thanks to the magical tantrum you just threw—and you have the best healing capabilities of any of us students. If either of them is still alive, and you choose not to go and help them, and one of them ends up dying later, that will be your fault. So go. Now. You will never forgive yourself for it later if you don't." Hermione knew she was being cruel, but at last Harry got up and walked numbly over to Neville. She gave him a few minutes, then asked, "So?"

"I think he might have been thrown against the wall by whatever hit him before he fell to the floor, so he might have a concussion or other broken bones. Thankfully, though, he wasn't hit by anything deadly. He should be fine, for the moment, but he needs to see Pomfrey soon." He then went to check on Ron. He was silent for a long minute then, biting his lip, he said, "I think he might have been hit by something more serious. His breathing is irregular."

"I will take care of it, Harry," a kind voice said quietly. It appeared that Dumbledore had regained consciousness, though he was rubbing the back of is head carefully.

"No, I will take care of it, thank you very much, Headmaster," another voice said, sniffing disdainfully. Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, Professors Snape and McGonagall close behind. Harry saw the faces of students peering sleepily over the railings on higher flights of stairs, trying to figure out what was happening. The three staff members conjured three floating stretchers and levitated Neville, Ron, and Draco onto each of them. Harry had to turn away from the sight of his boyfriend being lifted bonelessly into the air and fought back hot tears that he refused to let escape. He vowed that after this, the ultimate sorrow, he would never cry again.

"You three," Pomfrey said sharply, pulling Harry out of his thoughts, "will come with me as well. For Merlin's sake, the lot of you probably hold the school record for most visits to my infirmary."

"Wait," Dumbledore said slowly. "Where's Fawkes?" He scanned the air frantically before turning hopelessly to the piles of rubble, odds and ends, and critters wandering confusedly around the hall. "Fawkes?" he called desperately. No, he can't leave me, he thought, his famous composure dissolving. Not like this. Not after all this time.

In the back corner of the hall there was a mountain of broken marble from a shattered pillar. A few of the pieces on top shifted and everyone held their breath.

Logic told Dumbledore that it was probably one of the many miscellaneous creatures that had once been stone or wood, but he rushed forward to help uncover whatever it was. He levitated the heavier boulders, and gasped. "Fawkes?"

The Gryffindors stared. The thing underneath the rubble was not a phoenix. In fact, it wasn't even a bird.

It was a man.

He had snow-white hair with streaks of fiery orange and wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and his mouth. He sat up rubbing his head and wincing. "Albus," the man replied in a sweet tenor voice.

"Oh, Merlin, Fawkes!" Dumbledore repeated, tears in his eyes as he dropped to his knees and embraced the smaller man, who winced again.

"Ouch. Easy, Albus, I was just buried under a ton of marble, for goodness sake. He pulled away from Dumbledore and grinned at Harry, dark eyes twinkling. "That was quite a display, young man." Fawkes approached him and grasped Harry's shoulder gratefully. "I could never thank you enough for what you have done for me. For now, we should take care of your friends." Harry said nothing but, despite his aching heart, he couldn't help but be happy for his headmaster and Fawkes.

Harry nodded and everyone, Dumbledore and Fawkes included, headed to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey checked Ron first.

"He has a collapsed lung," she finally announced to the group as she held her hand, which was glowing faintly, over the boy's chest. "After I fix it up he will be fine, but it would be best if he stayed in bed for at least two days, and did not exert himself unnecessarily for a full two weeks.

Neville had a few broken bones—including a vertebra or two. Harry winced in sympathy as she poured him a large goblet of Skele-Gro.

Then she turned to Draco, and Harry turned away. He sat down heavily on an empty bed. The random thought flitted through his head that he sure hoped he wasn't going to be attacked by a dementor any time soon. He would be hard-pressed to think of a happy memory. Though, considering his current numb depression, they probably wouldn't have much affect on him anymore anyway.

Dumbledore came over and sat down next to him, and Harry couldn't help but ask "Well?" He knew there was no way Draco was still alive. He'd seen the green light—the characteristic color of Avada Kadavra—seen Draco's prone body, heard Malfoy's demented laughter.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "Harry, look at me." With great effort, Harry raised his head and forced his shell-shocked eyes to meet Dumbledore's kind blue ones. Dumbledore stood up and held out his hand. Confused, but not really caring, Harry took it and Dumbledore led him to Draco's bedside. Harry couldn't bring his eyes to focus on Draco's pale, lifeless face. Something hit his leg—hard. He looked up instinctively and found himself staring into a pair of familiar silver eyes that were giving him a mock-glare.

"Hey, you could show some sympathy, here. I'm in a lot of pain, and you don't even bother with a 'How are you feel—" He was cut off as Harry tackled him.

"Oh my god, Draco! How the bloody hell are you still alive?"

"Oh, thanks. I feel so loved now. And hey, I thought I was the one with the foul mouth around here."

"Mr. Malfoy ducked the Killing Curse," Dumbledore explained, his eyes twinkling in amusement, "but he slipped on the rubble underfoot, causing him to fall and hit his head. He just has a minor concussion, which is much less severe than the injuries sustained by Mr. Weasely and Mr. Longbottom."

Harry stared at his boyfriend. "Is that true?" he asked. Draco nodded ruefully and Harry burst out laughing. "You, the graceful, dignified Draco Malfoy knocked yourself out by falling over?"

"Hey, shut it, you. Don't harass the invalid."

"Invalid, my ass. You big baby. If you ever do something like that again, I swear I'm going to kill you myself, you idiot."

"Good gracious, Potter, I really have been a bad influence on your language," Draco said with a laugh. "So, you were really upset when you thought I was dead, huh?" He said, lowering his voice teasingly.

"I was devastated," Harry replied seriously. "Like I said, don't do that again. Please. I never want to go through an experience like that ever again."

"I'll try not to," Draco said with a laugh. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Draco."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed as she came back from her storage room with an armload of medicine. "I must insist that you get off of Mr. Malfoy's chest this instant!"

"See, at least someone has some appreciation for my delicate condition," Draco said, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend.

"Yeah, and you won't think that's such a good think after a week stuck in bed."

"I don't think I would mind being in bed for a week. As long as I had company, anyway..."

"Bloody hell, you two," another voice complained. "Can't you give an injured guy a break?"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, leaping off Draco's bed and rushing see his best mate. Hermione was already there, Ron's large hand enveloping hers and happy tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. "How are you feeling?" he asked earnestly.

"Fine, until you two started being all cutsie."

"I can't believe you just used the word 'cutsie', Ron," Harry said laughing.

"Shut up."

"Hey, guys," Neville called from his bed. "What happened down there?"

The group looked at each other, then at Dumbledore and Fawkes.

"Not much," they all said simultaneously, then burst out laughing. Harry took pity on the confused boy, and filled him in on what happened.

"Wow," Neville said when he was finished. "I wish I hadn't been knocked out," he said, sounding disgruntled with himself.

"No, trust me. You were the lucky one. You didn't have to be subjected to Harry acting like a complete drama queen," Ginny said with a smirk at her green-eyed friend.

"Hey, that's not fair," Harry protested, but he was drowned out by the laughter of everyone else and ended up smiling along with them.

Their relief at being alive turned into giddiness and they laughed themselves silly until the early hours of the morning. They knew that eventually they would have to face the questions and curiosity of their fellow students but for now, they just relished each other's company.