Chapter Four

Harry heard voices, but the words made no sense. He thought he heard an unusual laugh—and Draco's voice… He opened his eyes to see Draco standing over him. His fists were clenched and he looked tense—almost frightened.

Harry reached out weakly and snagged Draco's trouser leg. Draco stared down at him in surprise. "Get up, Harry."

Harry complied, wondering at Draco's harsh tone. He sought for his wand as he stood up—to no avail. When he managed a vertical position, he noticed the odd scene of cask and candelabra on the table. What was wrong with the candles? Harry massaged his temples, thinking the vision must be an aftereffect of his headache.

"Where the hell are we?"

Before Draco could reply, another voice rang in the room. "Harry Potter, awake at last. I thought you might ruin my game by sleeping through it."

Harry looked at Draco, who nodded grimly. "Mulciber."

"What game?" Harry snapped.

"Draco was good enough to bring you here, as instructed. Now he only need perform one more task in order to win his prize, right Pansy?"

Harry heard a breathy female voice call Draco's name, but further commentary was cut off by Mulciber's chuckle. Harry's eyes narrowed on Draco.

"What task?" Harry asked, knowing he absolutely did not want to know.

"All part of the game, Potter. You see, as Draco so observantly noted, I have already released the spell. Hopefully he has explained what it does."

"Yes."

"If you will observe closely, you will see that I have placed a slowing spell around it." Mulciber chortled. "Wasn't that clever? And very difficult, as you can imagine. The spell in the chest has been released, but it is expanding slowly—oh so slowly—outwards. Giving someone time… to… stop… it."

"How?" Harry demanded.

"Well now, that's where you two come in. You see, they built a sort of fail-safe device to this spell. In case someone released it by accident, I suppose. Or more likely to appease some do-gooder philanthropist during its creation. Regardless, the bloody thing can be stopped by a single willing sacrifice."

Harry stared at Draco in dawning cognizance.

"You knew," he said quietly.

Draco nodded. "I knew, but I didn't remember." The words made no sense to Harry, especially when he heard them through the filter of his anger.

"You brought me here to sacrifice myself?"

Draco looked stricken. "No, of course not! I brought you here because I was ordered to." Draco grimaced, as if the words were not quite what he had intended to say.

Harry was aghast. Ordered to? How could he have thought he knew Draco? He didn't know what to believe any longer.

"You've been working for Mulciber all along?"

"You're not letting me finish, Harry," Draco said softly.

"I think you've bloody well said enough!" Harry growled, horrified to learn that he could still be hurt.

Draco scowled.

Mulciber tittered again. "Excellent. It begins already. You see, I brought you here because I hate you both equally. Draco the traitor, who nearly got me sent to Azkaban but for a fortuitous escape. And Potter, who destroyed our only hope for a pure-blood regime. I'm curious to see which of you will toss the other into the volcano's mouth, so to speak."

Harry looked at the cask on the table. The odd flickering of the candles was now explained—the flames moved slowly, like a flag stirred by the merest breeze, and the smoke seemed barely to be moving. A faint, golden glow could be seen surrounding both cask and table. Its diameter was perhaps two meters and slowing increasing.

"If you'll note the circle on the floor, you will see that time is of the essence," Mulciber went on. "That is the boundary of the slowing spell. Once past that point, the purging spell will explode across Britain, and beyond."

Harry sighed, knowing there was no help for it, and found that he barely cared. Draco's betrayal had given him one less thing to live for.

"I'll do it," he said and stepped forward. A firm grip on his arm halted him.

"No. You will not."

Harry turned and glared at Draco. "Isn't that why you brought me here?"

"I would never hurt you intentionally, Harry. Not ever. Mulciber modified my memories to make me believe that I had been with Pansy for six months."

Harry felt a cold fist close over his heart. He swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. "You weren't with Pansy?"

"Well, she was here-we both were-but I think I spent most of that time being Crucioed." Draco laughed without humor. "Some of it is coming back to me."

"You were tortured for six months?"

Mulciber snorted. "Draco was particularly hard to crack. I needed to find out more about you, Potter. And to prepare Draco to bring you here. At times I thought I would have to destroy his mind completely. The bastard kept resisting my Imperius Curse and breaking through my Memory Charms."

Harry felt sick. He reached out to touch Draco's face. "Oh my God," he said brokenly as the walls he had built shattered like delicate glass. "All that time I thought… I thought you—"

Draco lifted a hand to cover Harry's and pressed the palm tighter against his cheek. His eyes were molten silver. "I would never have left you willingly, you bloody idiot. Now that you know the truth, Harry, you will also understand why I have to do this."

Before Harry could register his words, Draco's clenched fist smashed into his jaw. The pain exploded into darkness and Harry only dimly felt Draco lower him gently to the cold floor. He struggled to retain consciousness as Draco's lips softly pressed against his. He suddenly knew the gesture was meant to be goodbye. Draco's soft mouth slid over Harry's cheek to press against the flesh next to his ear.

"I love you, Harry," Draco whispered and then his presence was gone.

No, no, no, no, no! Harry fought the encroaching blackness and pushed himself upwards. Through a blurred haze, he saw Draco walk towards the circle, intent upon dying in Harry's place to stop the spell.

Mulciber's amused voice sounded again, but Harry did not hear the words—he was too intent on stopping Draco. Harry managed to roll to his hands and knees and ignored the gonging in his ears. He flung himself forwards and wrapped his arms around Draco's legs, bringing him down just short of his goal.

"No," Harry said adamantly as Draco rolled over to look at him.

"Harry, you know I have to do this." Draco tried to detach Harry's arms from his legs. The fog from Draco's punch was beginning to clear.

"No. It's my job."

Draco frowned. "You're taking this Savior of the Wizarding World thing far too seriously, Potter. You've done your part. Let someone else have a turn."

"I won't let you die, Draco."

"Harry, I'll be dead without you."

"No, you won't!" Harry resisted Draco's efforts to detach him and finally Draco slid down and took Harry's face in both hands.

"Listen to me, Harry. You're worth a thousand of me. Let me do something for you, for once, you stubborn Gryffindor idiot."

"That's not true! Don't say that. You saved me more than once. After Voldemort—after Ginny—you brought me back to life."

Draco's thumbs caressed his cheeks and his eyes were pools of quicksilver. "Then live, Harry. I can do this only if I know that you will live."

Mulciber's voice sounded again, but Harry ignored it, focusing only on Draco. Harry released Draco's legs and snatched at his shirt front, pulling himself between Draco's knees until their foreheads touched and their breath mingled.

"No," Harry repeated desperately, knowing by the calm tone of Draco's voice that he had already made up his mind.

"Harry, I don't want to live a life without you in it. Either I'm dead inside or I'm dead in reality. I'd rather be dead in reality."

Harry tried to shake his head and he felt tears gathering behind his lashes. "Don't you know it will be the same for me?"

"You've been fine without me for six months, Harry," Draco said gently. "You'll survive."

"I was not fine, Draco," Harry said and felt the tears spill over, to be caught by Draco's thumbs.

Draco sighed and kissed him. Harry leaned into it and a sob caught in his throat as he slipped his hands into Draco's hair—God, it had been so long such he'd touched him. Mulciber was shouting now, but Harry was lost in the taste and feel of Draco, so much so that for a moment he considered letting the rest of the world die. Let them all rot as long as he could stay right here, in the sensual paradise that was Draco Malfoy.

Draco's tongue raked his and his lips were almost savage, as though he tried to imprint Harry on his very psyche. Harry both surrendered and demanded the same. His hands caressed every part of Draco they could touch. He felt Draco's hands on his neck, in his hair, sliding over his shoulders, back and waist, pulling him closer. Finally, Draco pulled back slightly and sucked at Harry's lower lip gently before releasing it.

"I wish we had time to—" Draco whispered.

"I know." Harry wondered how many regrets he would have to pile atop that one.

Draco pressed him back, gently. "You'll let me do this, then?"

"If I say no, you'll hit me again, won't you?"

"Yes. And this time you won't get up."

Harry tried to smile, but could not quite manage it. Draco stood and helped Harry to his feet, no easy task with Harry's arms still wrapped around his neck.

"I love you, Draco. I've loved you since the fairy forest—hell, maybe even before that."

"I know." Draco brushed a feather-light kiss on Harry's lips. "I've always known."

Draco gently but firmly, detached Harry's arms and stepped back. He turned his eyes to the faint glowing sphere of the spell, which had grown during their argument. Draco took a steadying breath and stepped into the circle. The slowing spell took immediate effect and Harry watched as Draco pushed forward, approaching the glow of the deadly spell in slow motion.

Harry did not see Draco reach his destination because he threw himself forward in sudden determination. He might allow Draco to sacrifice himself, but he'd be damned if he'd let him do it alone. They crossed the glowing barrier at the same moment.

Harry felt a blinding explosion of white hot pain. He was suddenly certain that his soul was being ripped from his body in every direction at once; he thought he might have screamed. The torment seemed to last forever and he felt incredible relief when the glare turned black and blanketed him with oblivion.