There were problems with my last chapter, but I fixed it. Hope you like this one. Thank you sooooo much for the reviews. They mean a lot to me. Love you all!
Splinched
Harry opened his eyes; he had no idea what had happened, he only knew that he was lying on what seemed to be leaves and twigs.
Looking around, Harry saw that they and Hermione were lying on a forest floor, apparently alone.
Harry's first thought was of the Forbidden Forest, and for a moment, even though he knew how foolish and dangerous it would be for them to appear in the grounds of Hogwarts, his heart leapt at the thought of sneaking through the trees to Hagrid's hut.
However, in the few moments it took for Draco to give a low groan and Harry to start crawling toward him, he realized that this was not the Forbidden Forest; The trees looked younger, they were more widely spaced, the ground clearer.
He met Hermione, also on her hands and knees, at Draco's head. The moment his eyes fell upon Draco, all other concerns fled Harry's mind, for blood drenched the whole of Draco's left side and his face stood out, grayish-white, against the leaf-strewn earth. The Polyjuice Potion was wearing off now: Draco was halfway between Cattermole and himself in appearance, his hair turning to a light blonde as his face drained of the little color it had left.
"What's happened to him?"
"Splinched," said Hermione, her fingers already busy at Draco's sleeve, where the blood was wettest and darkest.
Harry watched, horrified, as she tore open Draco's short. He had always thought of Splinching as something comical, but this . . .Hermione laid bare Draco's upper arm, where a great chunk of flesh was missing, scooped cleanly away as though by a knife.
"Harry, quickly, in my bag, there's a small bottle labeled 'Essence of Dittany'– "
"Wait- I know-"
"Quickly!"
He snarled at her threateningly before crouching over his mate. He placed a hand on Draco's chest and closed his eyes.
"He's fainted," said Hermione, who was also rather pale; she no longer looked like Mafalda, though her hair was still gray in places. "What on earth are you doing?"
Harry just continued, letting a golden light spill from his fingertips. It coated Draco before disappearing altogether.
Hermione saw that the bleeding had stopped. The wound now looked several days old; new skin stretched over what had just been open flesh.
"Wow," said Hermione.
"He should be fine now, though his skin will be delicate for the next few days, and I'm sure his head will ache something fierce. How did he get hurt? I mean" – Harry shook his head, trying to clear it, to make sense of whatever had just taken place – "why are we here? I thought we were going back to Grimmauld Place?"
Hermione took a deep breath. She looked close to tears.
"Harry, I don't think we're going to be able to go back there."
"What d'you – ?"
"As we Disapparated, Yaxley caught hold of me and I couldn't get rid of him, he was too strong, and he was still holding on when we arrived at Grimmauld Place, and then – well, I think he must have seen the door, and thought we were stopping there, so he slackened his grip and I managed to sake him off and I brought us here instead!"
"But then, where's he? Hang on. . . . You don't mean he's at Grimmauld Place? He can't get in there?"
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she nodded.
"Harry, I think he can. I – I forced him to let go with a Revulsion Jinx, but I'd already taken him inside the Fidelius Charm's protection. Since Dumbledore died, we're Secret-Keepers, so I've given him the secret, haven't I?"
There was no pretending; Harry was sure she was right. If Yaxley could now get inside the house, there was no way that they could return. Even now, he could be bringing other Death Eaters in there by Apparition. Gloomy and oppressive though the house was, it had been their one safe refuge; even, now that Kreacher was so much happier and friendlier, a kind of home.
"Harry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
"Don't be stupid, it wasn't your fault! If anything, it was mine. . ."
Before Hermione could answer, Draco groaned and opened his eyes. He was still gray and his face glistened with sweat.
"How d'you feel?" Harry whispered, brushing the hair from his face.
"Lousy," croaked Draco, wincing as he felt his injured arm. "Where are we?"
"In the woods where they held the Quidditch World Cup," said Hermione. "I wanted somewhere enclosed, undercover, and this was –"
"– the first place you thought of," Harry finished for her, glancing around at the apparently deserted glade."
"Should we leave?" Draco asked Harry.
"I dunno."
Draco still looked pale and clammy. He had made no attempt to sit up and it looked as though he was too weak to do so. The prospect of moving him was daunting, Harry was sure it wouldn't be hard, but he didn't want to cause him further pain.
"Let's stay here for now," Harry said.
Looking relieved, Hermione sprang to her feet.
"Where are you going?" asked Draco.
"If we're staying, we should put some protective enchantments around the place," she replied, and raising her wand, she began to walk in a wide circle around Harry and Draco, murmuring incantations as she went.
"Salvio Hexia . . . Protego Totalum . . . Repello Muggletum . . . Muffliato . . . You could get out the tent, Harry. . . ."
"Tent?"
"In the bag!"
"In the . . . of course," said Harry.
"Don't forget to call Weasel and Lupin," Draco rasped.
"Shite," Harry snapped, pulling out the mirror.
"Billius."
After a moment, Ron's dirty face appeared on the mirror.
"We're nearly done, Harry, Remus want's to say goodbye to his boyfriend first."
Harry felt a tinge of anger at him for looking so disgusted, but he brushed it off.
"We're not at Grimmauld. We can't go back. I'll explain when you get here. Hermione will have to tell you where to apparate." He handed the mirror to Hermione before heading toward the bag.
The tent emerged. Harry recognized it as the same tent in which they had slept on the night of the Quidditch World Cup.
"Erecto!" he demanded, pointing his wand at the misshapen canvas, which in one fluid motion rose into the air and settled, fully constructed, onto the ground before Harry.
"Cave Inimicum," Hermione finished with a skyward flourish. "That's as much as I can do. At the very least, we should know they're coming; I can't guarantee it will keep out Vol –"
"Don't say the name!" Draco cut across her, his voice harsh.
Hermione looked at him scowling, while Harry was only confused.
"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, "but I think the Grey Menace might have jinxed it. We need to avoid calling him by that name."
Hermione was thoughtful for a moment before nodding slightly.
Harry lifted Draco bridal style to carry him through the entrance. The interior was exactly as Harry remembered it; a small flat, complete with bathroom and tiny kitchen. He shoved aside an old armchair and lowered Draco carefully onto what was going to be their bed. Even this very short journey had turned Draco whiter still, and once they had settled him on the mattress he closed his eyes again and did not speak for a while.
"I'll make some tea," said Hermione breathlessly, pulling kettle and mugs from the depths of her bag and heading toward the kitchen.
Harry found the hot drink welcoming; it seemed to burn away a little of the fear fluttering in his chest. After a minute or two, a pop of apparation broke the silence.
"I'll get them," Hermione said softly, leaving the tent.
"I hope they escaped," said Draco, leaning back on his pillows. The tea seemed to be doing him good; a little of his color had returned.
Harry linked their fingers, giving him a tender expression.
"Me too, are you all right?"
"I'll be fine, Snotter, no need to worry about me."
"I can't help it."
Draco sighed, kissing Harry's hand.
"I know."
"So, have you got it?" Harry asked Hermione as she lead Ron and Remus in.
"Got – got what?" she said with a little start.
"What did we just go through all that for? The locket! Where's the locket?"
"You got it?" shouted Ron, "No one tells me anything! Blimey, you could have mentioned it!"
"Well, we were a little busy weren't we?" said Hermione. "Here."
And she pulled the locket out of the pocket of her robes and handed it to Ron.
It was as large as a chicken's egg. An ornate letter S, inlaid with many small green stones, glinted dully in the diffused light shining through the tent's canvas roof.
"There isn't any chance someone's destroyed it since Kreacher had it?" asked Remus hopefully. "I mean, are we sure it's still a Horcrux?"
"I think so," said Hermione, taking it back from him and looking at it closely.
"There'd be some sign of damage if it had been magically destroyed."
She passed it to Harry, who turned it over in his fingers.
"I reckon Kreacher's right," said Harry. "We're going to have to work out how to open this thing before we can destroy it."
"What are we going to do with it?" Hermione asked.
"Keep it safe till we work out how to open it." Harry replied, and, little though he wanted to, he hung the chain around his own neck, dropping the locket out of sight beneath his robes, where it rested against his chest beside the pouch Hagrid had given him.
"I think we should take it in turns to keep watch outside the tent," he added to Hermione, standing up and stretching. "And we'll need to think about some food as well. You stay there," he added sharply, as Draco attempted to sit up.
"Why? I'm not too bad now."
"You need rest. Now, rest. You can get up when I get back."
Remus didn't say a word, just nodding along with the new information. They all took turned with lookout, except for Draco, whom Harry would barely let stand without help.
The surrounding silence was broken by odd rustlings and what sounded like crackings of twigs. There were other Horcruxes out there somewhere, but Harry did not have the faintest idea where they could be. He did not even know what all of them were. Meanwhile he was at a loss to know how to destroy the only one that they had found, the Horcrux that currently lay against the bare flesh of his chest. Curiously, it had not taken heat from his body, but lay so cold against his skin it might just have emerged from icy water. From time to time Harry thought, or perhaps imagined, that he could feel the tiny heartbeat ticking irregularly alongside his own. Nameless forebodings crept upon him as he sat there in the dark. He tried to resist them, push them away, yet they came at him relentlessly. Neither can live while the other survives. Draco and Remus and Ron and Hermione could walk away if they wanted to: He could not.
He thought of poor Kreacher, who had expected them home and had received Yaxley instead. What if the Death Eaters tortured the elf? Sick images swarmed into Harry's head and he tried to push these away too, for there was nothing he could do for Kreacher: He and Hermione had already decided against trying to summon him; what if someone from the Ministry came too? They could not count on elfish Apparition being free from the same flaw that had taken Yaxley to Grimmauld Place.
Harry's scar was burning now.
"Give it to me, Gregorovitch."
"I have it not, I have it no more! It was, many years ago, stolen from me!"
"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. He knows. . . . He always knows."
The hanging man's pupils were wide, dilated with fear, and they seemed to swell,
bigger and bigger until their blackness swallowed Harry whole –
And how Harry was hurrying along a dark corridor in stout little Gregorovitch's
wake as he held a lantern aloft: Gregorovitch burst into the room at the end of the passage
and his lantern illuminated what looked like a workshop; wood shavings and gold
gleamed in the swinging pool of light, and there on the window ledge sat perched, like a
giant bird, a young man with golden hair. In the split second that the lantern's light
illuminated him, Harry saw the delight upon his handsome face, then the intruder shot a
Stunning Spell from his wand and jumped neatly backward out of the window with a
crow of laughter.
And Harry was hurtling back out of those wide, tunnel-like pupils and
Gregorovitch's face was stricken with terror.
"Who was the thief, Gregorovitch?" said the high cold voice.
"I do not know, I never knew, a young man – no – please – PLEASE!"
A scream that went on and on and then a burst of green light –
"Harry!"
He opened his eyes, panting, his forehead throbbing. He had passed out against the side of the tent, had slid sideways down the canvas, and was sprawled on the ground.
He looked up at Hermione.
"Dream," he said, sitting up quickly and attempting to meet Hermione's glower with a look of innocence. "Must've dozed off, sorry."
"I know it was your scar! I can tell by the look on your face! You were looking into Vol –"
"Don't say his name!" came Ron's angry voice from the depths of the tent.
"Fine," retorted Hermione, "You-Know-Who's mind, then!"
"I didn't mean it to happen!" Harry said. "It was a dream! Can you control what you dream about, Hermione?"
"If you just learned to apply Occlumency –"
But Harry was not interested in being told off; he wanted to discuss what he had just seen.
"He's found Gregorovitch, Hermione, and I think he's killed him, but before he killed him he read Gregorovitch's mind and I saw –"
"I think I'd better take over the watch if you're so tired you're falling sleep," said Hermione coldly.
"I can finish the watch!"
"No, you're obviously exhausted. Go and lie down."
She dropped down in the mouth of the tent, looking stubborn. Angry, but wishing to avoid a row, Harry ducked back inside.
Draco's still-pale face was looking out from his pillow; Harry climbed into the place next him, lay down, and looked up at the dark canvas ceiling. After several moments, Ron spoke from his place in the makeshift doorway. It was more of a opening really. No privacy could be offered by it.
"What's You-Know-Who doing?"
Harry screwed up his eyes in the effort to remember every detail, then whispered into the darkness.
"He found Gregorovitch. He had him tied up, he was torturing him."
"How's Gregorovitch supposed to make him a new wand if he's tied up?"
"I dunno. . . . It's weird, isn't it?"
Harry closed his eyes, thinking of all that he had seen and heard. The more he recalled, the less sense it made. . . . Voldemort had said nothing about Harry's wand, nothing about the twin cores, nothing about Gregorovitch making a new and more powerful wand to beat Harry's. . .
"He wanted something from Gregorovitch," Harry said, eyes still closed tight. "He asked him to hand it over, but Gregorovitch said it had been stolen from him . . . and then . . . then . . ."
He remembered how he, as Voldemort, had seemed to hurtle through Gregorovitch's eyes, into his memories. . . .
"He read Gregorovitch's mind, and I saw this young bloke perched on a windowsill, and he fired a curse at Gregorovitch and jumped out of sight. He stole it, he stole whatever You-Know-Who's after. And I . . . I think I've seen him somewhere. . ."
Harry wished he could have another glimpse of the laughing boy's face. The theft had happened many years ago, according to Gregorovitch. Why did the young thief look familiar?
The noises of the surrounding woods were muffled inside the tent; all Harry could hear was Draco's breathing.
After a while, Ron whispered, "Couldn't you see what the thief was holding?"
"No . . . it must've been something small."
"Harry, you don't reckon You-Know-Who's after something else to turn into a Horcrux?"
"I don't know," said Harry slowly. "Maybe. But wouldn't it be dangerous for him to make another one? Didn't Hermione say he had pushed his soul to the limit already?"
"Yeah, but maybe he doesn't know that."
"Yeah . . .maybe," said Harry.
He had been sure that Voldemort had been looking for a way around the problem of the twin cores, sure that Voldemort sought a solution from the old wandmaker.
Ron nodded, leaving the doorway to head to his own bed. Remus stopped in for a moment, whispering a goodnight before heading to the shared bedroom with him.
"Harry?" Draco whispered.
"Yes, Dragon?"
"I'll help you with your occlumency tomorrow okay?"
Harry agreed, pulling Draco closer to him.
He took in a hiss of breath.
"Am I hurting you?" Harry worried.
"It's worth it."
"Draco-"
"Shut up. I can't sleep over there. It hardly stings."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. Go to sleep."
Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to Draco's forehead before settling down.
"I don't know how to destroy it."
Draco lifted the locket from his chest, eyes darting to Harry's when he felt him relax slightly.
"I don't want this on you."
"I have to keep it safe-"
"No. You aren't going to wear it. We can put it away. Keep it in a pocket if you want, but I refuse to allow you to have it on your skin.."
Harry frowned, removing it from around his neck and slipping it into the moleskin pouch hanging on the metal bedpost.
"Better."
Harry didn't like having it seemingly unprotected, but it would be a lie to say he missed it's chilling presence.
"Night Dray."
"Harry?"
"Yea?"
"What are we going to do now?"
"I don't know, Dray, but we'll figure it out."