Thanks for your comments/reviews since my last update, and also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!

Posted April 5, 2012.

-CHAPTER 3-

DESPERATE MEASURES

"…I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do-"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted, "Just try and stand, let's get out of-"

"Dubbledore!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder.

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!" Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body-they were saved.

Dumbledore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line-

Only one pair was still battling, unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Belletrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room. The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dias.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place. Harry heard Belletrix's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing-Sirius had only just fallen through the archway. He would reappear.

But Sirius did not reappear.

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled…(1)

"SIRIUS!" Harry's eyes flew open, and he actually fell off the bed onto the floor with the mental shock. Of course he'd seen it all by this point, what with several months exposed to the effects of the Dementors. Still, having retreated to the depths of his mind, he had been able to shield himself from the brunt of those terrible memories.

Now, away from Azkaban, and back in the real world, he was once again subjected to the terrible nightmares originally fuelled by the Dementors. The combination worked in reducing him to a sobbing, shaking mess on the floor of Mace's compartment.

Harry's panicked scream woke the older man up, and he was at a loss as to what to do. The young wizard who had saved his life only hours earlier, now looked like he was in need of saving instead. But from what? Knowing it would hurt, Mace got down on the floor. His friend needed comfort, his injured leg be damned. Hissing from the terrible pain, he pulled Harry into a hug. "I've got you," he whispered softly.

Harry momentarily went rigid, as if shocked at the unexpected contact, but gradually relaxed, as he readily accepted the strong showing of moral support and comfort. He reached up a hand, and grasped one of the muscular forearms clutching him tightly. To Mace, it was as if the young wizard were making sure it was real.

"Right here, Harry. Just... just rest, okay?"

"Right here," Harry repeated, in a detached voice.

"C'mon. Let's at least get off the floor."

"N-no... please... don't leave me." The plea was not from the man he'd met only hours ago, but from a small boy. Someone who had been deserted far too many times in his young life.

"I promise. But we gotta get up. Floor's freezing."

It was at this point that Harry realized what Mace said was true. The temperature had fallen another degree or so, and the deadly cold from the vacuum of space was slowly seeping into the Icarus II. The floor was no place to be under any circumstance. They separated, and Harry slowly climbed to his feet. He then helped Mace to his feet, and they sat back down on the small bed.

"You all right?"

"Better," Harry answered, although he was still trembling slightly. "Terrible memory. S-sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it. Fuck, though... wish Searle was here. He was better at this shit than I am—though at times I doubted his sanity... but... if you wanna talk about it—"

"Honestly, not really. Just, thanks... but... I already revisited it once, and I'll revisit it again... something I can count on. It's why I don't look forward to sleep."

"That's pretty fucked up."

"So goes my life," Harry snorted, pushing himself up so he was then resting against the wall on the opposite side of the bed. Mace followed suit, making a sour face at the stabbing pain which flared through his injured leg. Harry made an equally sour face, as his failure once again reared its ugly head, but he forced his face to relax, and a smile took over. Without a doubt, he had the guy's absolute loyalty at this point.

"What?"

"Just thinking. The last person I felt this way around..." Harry was forced to take a deep breath to settle his nerve, before continuing, "...my godfather excluded... his name was Cedric. He was three years older than I was, not even in the same house—err... I mean, the same dormitory. But Merlin... it didn't matter. Not even my closest friends could make me feel... like this."

"Like how?"

"Safe." Harry reached back a hand and scratched the base of his neck, then fixed the collar of his borrowed jacket. "I dunno why... but it just is. Funny, I know. We've only known each other a matter of hours, but it feels... like I've known you for years. It's like I've been reunited with an old friend, but... but more." Mace could feel his face getting rather warm in spite of the chilly room temperature. He ran a hand through his hair, and asked, "Cedric was more than a friend?"

"Yeah. Much more than friends. I still don't know how the Daily Prophet didn't pick up on it. It would have been a three-ring-circus, that much I'm sure—you don't care?"

"Why would I? Being gay is a genetic thing," said Mace, with a shrug, "No different than blue eyes or red hair."

"Didn't know that... but... there were more than a few people who... definitely didn't approve. Now that I think of it, Dumbledore was one of them." Harry frowned and his features darkened. "So. How much of that tournament was truly orchestrated by Crouch, then?" That was said mostly to himself.

Harry continued to mutter to himself, but at this point, Mace wasn't really hearing it. A simple statement was overriding everything else: Much more than friends. With another wizard. Another man—or likely another boy, as Harry was suggesting. What had happened? Equally, what did he want now? Surely... 'Better question,' Mace thought to himself, 'What do I want?' It would be too easy for him to seduce the young wizard, and more than likely succeed. The guy was in a fragile state—no shit, considering where he'd arrived from!

Mace had certainly been on both sides of the fence when it came to relationships. Each brought its own complications. It had been agreed amongst all eight crew members before they boarded Icarus II, no relationships were allowed, so as to prevent complications which could spring up from such a thing.

That certainly led to underlying tension amongst them all. It was doubly difficult, given Mace's relationship with Cassie not long before the mission. Reflecting back on the past few months, he realized something else: the tension between him and Capa had most definitely not been borne of hate or jealousy. No, it was attraction and love. Mutual attraction they could not act on. The question regarding Harry, then: what should he do?

"Mace?"

"Huh—what?"

"I said I need to get up a minute. Your leg's still bothering you?"

"A little." Harry drew his wand again and cast yet another healing charm at the injury. The throbbing lessened yet again.

"Once we get back where I belong, there'll be a few people that can set it good as new." Harry slowly stood up. "Need to visit the bathroom."

Mace watched him leave, then hauled himself the rest of the way up onto his bed. They were still alive, somehow. The ship hadn't been incinerated by the sun. But now a much slower killer was stalking them, in more ways than Harry realized. Mace knew it would only be a matter of time before many of the ship's systems would fail from the cold itself. The heating systems were critical not only in the basic climate control, but also for keeping things such as the water supply working. A hot shower was no longer an option—the hot water had likely failed within a couple of hours of the computer's failure. The water supply itself would freeze in a matter of hours. Did he tell Harry?

"Bloody hell... no hot water," said Harry, as he re-entered the compartment. He looked a lot better than he'd looked before he left. They guy had obviously taken the chance to get cleaned up. His hair was still stringy, but no longer matted to his head, and his face, although incredibly pale, was clean.

"Here. I need to tell you something." Mace indicated the spot on the edge of the bed, and Harry took a seat. "You noticed the hot water's not working."

"Yeah."

"The ship's freezing, like I warned you earlier. Everything eventually, including the water. Y'know how long we can survive without water, right?"

"Not long. My relatives were always careful."

"What?" Mace scowled, quickly piecing together what the young wizard was implying. He filed that away for later, but continued, "If you can't make that device work... we're dead."

"D'you have any sort of container we might use? Collect water in something, and I can put a warming charm on it to keep it from freezing."

"Dump that container out. I dunno, put the shit in that cupboard." Mace pointed to the cupboard at the other end of his bed.

"Got it—shit, what about the stuff in the cupboard?"

"Throw it on the floor."

Harry quickly followed the instructions, first emptying the cabinet, then transferring all the MREs into the cabinet, leaving behind a large, empty container. A cleaning charm was quickly cast on it, and he took off with it, only to return a few minutes later, with the now full container floating behind him.

"The water still works, but it's bloody cold." He let the container settle where it had been resting only minutes before, and put the cover back on it.

"A few more hours and it'll freeze." Mace thought for a moment. "The container will buy us a week, maybe. But Harry. We're gonna die here. It's just the shit of it. If the cold don't get us first, no food or water... I don't need to spell it out, right?"

"I'm not ready to give up yet, okay?" Harry huffed, "It just feels like... somehow this will work out. Just have to stick it out for a few days. A few days, we can make it can't we?"

"Yeah. Biggest worry right now is the cold."

"Working on it." He opened the door to the compartment, crossed the pod, and entered Capa's. He snatched all the blankets off the bed, as well as the pillows.

Mace only leaned back, and watched. The guy was persistent, that was for sure. Perhaps he didn't understand the word 'quit'. Just maybe, that would make all the difference in the world.

"The stuff on the walls, it's insulation, right?" Harry questioned, dumping another pile of blankets on the bed, being careful not to jostle Mace's injured leg too much.

"Yeah."

"Perfect. Gonna pull some off. A few heating charms should help. And I'm gonna grab the mattresses from the other compartments. And... well... hope you don't mind close quarters."

Mace shrugged. "Doesn't bother me any."

A half-hour later, Mace was more than impressed. Harry had scavenged mattresses from the other compartments, a number of insulation sections, and a number of blankets. From there, he assembled what looked like a box made out of insulation. The ends were sealed off for the most part, with a small gap left in one end so they could get in it. He applied a strong warming charm to the whole thing, as well as a cushioning charm on the floor. Then, the stack of pillows were thrown in, along with the last of the blankets.

"Well?"

"All right, all right, I'm impressed. Help me up." It was then Harry noticed he could see their breaths. Harry said nothing about it, but helped Mace off the bed, and slightly more awkwardly, helped him sit on the floor. The guy visually shivered, as he dragged himself the short distance to the makeshift shelter, and finally inside. Harry then grabbed the blankets off of Mace's bed. "Here."

"Right." Mace stuck his head out. "Gonna be a bitch, going to the bathroom."

"We'll cross that bridge when we need to. Here. These as well. And I'm making some chocolate tea."

"Looks and tastes like shit."

"I've had worse, trust me," said Harry, with a sour face, as he passed down two MREs, eating tools, and the items needed to make his rather disgusting beverage. Finally, blowing out a breath which formed a cloud in the chilly air, he squeezed into the shelter himself.

The shelter worked better than Harry could have hoped. The warming charm made the inside more than comfortable for the pair of them, and coupled with the extra blankets and pillows, Harry found himself shedding the borrowed jacket. For the first time in hours, he was truly warm and comfortable. No, they would not freeze today.

Mace had drifted off to sleep, the steady, gentle breathing told Harry all he needed to know: his friend was warm and comfortable for the first time since they'd met. Still, he felt a pang of sadness in that he could do nothing to completely fix the terrible injury to his leg. He could tell it hurt Mace greatly when he had to get up and move around. Even though he did his best to hide it, he would nearly go white with every step. Once they returned to his own world, getting the leg looked at would be a top priority. He blew out a breath, and checked his pockets. The books which had arrived with the hourglass were set off to the side, along with his wand, and Harry too, lay down to get a bit of rest.

KAWHACK! Harry sat up abruptly, at what sounded like breaking glass. His new friend sat up across from him, a look of shock on his face, and... his right hand was casting an eerie white-blue glow in the shelter. A spot on the back wall was still shimmering, as though a piece of ice had slammed into it.

"What... what did you do?"

"I... watch." Mace flung his hand forward, and... KAWHACK! A white missile exploded from his hand, to again impact the back wall of the shelter(2). The glow faded from his hand, and Harry sat there, staring, mouth agape at the graphic evidence of what his friend had just done.

"Explain!"

"This... I... I opened it, and... I dunno, it just... it just works." Mace passed over the book responsible. The cover had on it what looked like a hand, in some way. A hand of fire, perhaps. Below it, were a series of symbols Harry had never seen before, but an English translation was below it: "Ice Spike".

"Bloody hell. Show me again."

"I don't think I can. Can't call it back... it's like I don't have the energy to do it again."

"You depleted your magical reserves. But that's impossible!" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, like he'd seen Snape do so many times. "This goes against everything..." Then a wicked grin crossed his face. "And I find it hysterical! Mace... you're a wizard!"

"With one spell. Uh huh."

"We'll work on that." Harry dared open the book himself.

He was caught off-guard by the effect. It was as if he were seeing in an instant, perhaps years of study. The mechanics behind it, the mental queue to call it up, and the motion to actually cast it. It was a frightening ability, as he saw the deadly effects of it. The spike could easily impale someone, if aimed just so. He momentarily giggled at the thought of Belletrix Lestrange being impaled by such a weapon. He closed the book, and was startled, as it simply vanished from his hand.

"Well?" Of course Mace wanted to see if Harry could do it. Harry, naturally, obliged, easily summoning a glowing ball of energy to his right hand, and let fly. The effect was identical, with perhaps a little more power behind it. Harry smirked, as he dispelled the glowing orb. "Poor Belletrix. She has no clue what's in store when next we meet. A shame I can't share the book with others though. Guess it has a limited number of reads." He tucked the rest of the books away. "When we get back to my world, we'll look at the others... rather not blow the place apart." Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Wish learning magic was that easy. God... a spell taught just by opening a book? Can't wait to show a pensieve memory to a few people. At least, once I get a few things sorted out."

"How d'you usually learn?"

"School. I mentioned the school I went to, right?" At Mace's nod, Harry continued, "Just before I turned eleven, I received an owl—a letter, I mean. It was an invitation to Hogwarts, where they teach young witches and wizards about magic. There's a bunch of subjects and so on."

"Sounds awesome."

"For a while, it was." Even in the darkened confines of the makeshift shelter, Mace could see Harry frown, his face not masking the hurt he was feeling. "The first year, I made my first friends ever. But every year after... there was always something going on. I'll show you some memories of it once I can get hold of a pensieve."

"What's a pensieve?"

"It's a device used to view memories. Except, rather than see it only from the point of view of the owner, it shows the entire scene. Really useful."

"It sounds like a time machine."

"Time travel." Harry winced.

"For real?"

"Yes, for real. F-forgive me if I don't want to share that right now... P-promises of a future that never happened." The last bit was mostly muttered to himself.

"You had lots of friends at your school?"

"No. Now that I think of it. It was a combination of things, I think... but really, up to the end of fifth year, I had a few friends... a few acquaintances, but really. Real friends... I could count on one hand." He was forced to rub his eyes again, but continued, "And now? The ones I thought were friends... only happily betrayed me and spilled all my dirty secrets in front of the Wizengamot, practically parading me around like a dirty whore. Some of my... some of my nightmares, they're there." He lay back down and rolled over to face the wall, visibly deflated. The thrill of seeing his new friend casting magic was crushed by the memories of his old ones. Their betrayal was still fresh and raw, even after four years. So overwhelmed by the memory of those betrayals, he barely noticed as Mace rolled up against him, slung an arm over him, and pulled him close. No, it was in that way that he fell to the bliss of unconsciousness.

The makeshift shelter aboard the Icarus II was gone, replaced by the entry hall of a large manor: Malfoy Manor, as he quickly realized, with several figures before him. One of them wore the crimson robes of the Auror corps.

"Tell me then, how is it that a measly boy managed to escape the confines of a place only one other has managed to escape?" It was not his own voice, but the voice of his nemesis.

"I'm s-sorry, my lord," the Auror whimpered, "We didn't know he was gone until this morning. The Dementors keep a more frequent watch, we only check once a day and make sure the prisoners are fed and watered. Please-"

"Avada kedavra."

Ignoring the now very dead Auror, he pointed a bony finger at the others. "Find out if the old man knows. Let us also be sure the Ministry is spending the appropriate resources in locating him. The boy must be in a place known to me, and accessible to me."

"Yes, my lord." The remaining group wasted no time fleeing from the room. Harry turned back to the dead Auror, while Nagini slithered up to him. "Dinner, Nagini."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At exactly the same time, news was also reaching Hogwarts. It still functioned as a school, but as more and more people were in danger from the Dark Lord and his mechanisms, more and more people were finding refuge within the walls of the ancient castle.

That particular morning, as the headmaster was about to leave his office to join the morning meal, the floo fired, and a rather shaken Cornelius Fudge stepped out of it, hastily brushing the ashes off his robes.

"Ah, Cornelius. I was just about-"

"Potter has escaped from Azkaban!" the minister announced, cutting straight to the issue at hand. "An Auror is missing... we're still trying to determine if he left willingly."

"DMLE's been alerted?"

"What? Oh, yes... Amelia knows. She's already pulling in her people as we speak."

"I'll be sure to let the Order know. Cornelius, it's imperative he be captured. If he should unite with Tom, everything could be lost."

"I know that Albus!" Fudge huffed. He calmed down, saying, "I can spare two additional Aurors here. What of his friends, the Granger girl and the Weasley boy?"

"Both of them have left the country, two years ago. I dare say, we won't be garnering any further assistance from either of them."

"Surely we could simply compel them to return?"

"And have the Canadian Wizarding government up in arms? I warned you, Cornelius, there were much simpler ways to gain a conviction. Instead your Aurors crossed into rather dangerous territory with their tactics. I need not say what will happen, should Harry ever get his conviction overturned."

"That will never happen, Albus!" Fudge exclaimed, "Not while I'm Minister."

"Just do keep in mind, things do have a way of sorting themselves out. Now I do believe I have an unscheduled meeting to attend to."

Harry was jolted awake by the stabbing pain in his scar. He sat up abruptly, knocking Mace's arm aside. Harry could feel his heart pounding violently against his ribcage.

"Harry?"

"It's... it's nothing." Harry lay back down, but his mind was still on what he'd just seen. Of course Voldemort would find it useful that Harry was locked away in Azkaban. It would have been much easier to get rid of him when it came time. Harry let a smirk briefly cross his lips. So much for planning, Tom!

"No... really, what is it?"

"My nemesis knows I've escaped from Azkaban. That means, the old man'll know soon enough," answered Harry, flipping over so he was facing his friend. The warming charm was losing its effect, and Harry dreaded the idea of having to leave the shelter. He'd have to apply a stronger warming charm, then. "Either way, good luck finding me." He propped himself up on one arm, and picked up the hourglass again. He was frustrated once again, as the device failed to work.

The following morning, the warming charms placed on the shelter no longer had any effect, with the pod looking more like a freezer than a living space. Harry insisted on looking after the food and the like, leaving his friend inside the shelter. Once the food was prepared, he passed both plates inside, and then set out to cast heating charms on the shelter.

Next thing he knew, he was again bundled up inside the shelter, with Mace looking very concerned.

"You blacked out again, outside. What did you do?"

"Tried to cast a heating charm." Harry let out an involuntary shiver. The place was cold.

"Here. Eat. And your... whatever this is." A cup and a plate were passed over with shaking hands. Harry ate quickly, realizing he was starving. He grimaced, sucking down the mud-like concoction.

"That's fucking gross."

"I've had worse, trust me," said Harry, as he vanished the dishes, "You haven't had vile until you've had one of Professor Snape's potions. Burnt socks, rotten cabbage... most vile, nasty, gross flavours you can possibly imagine, you can likely find them in a potion."

Mace shook his head. "Great. Looking forward to it." The sarcasm could be cut with a knife.

With each passing minute, the cold continued to seep into the small shelter, completely unabated by the weak warming charms Harry had put on it. Harry kept trying the strange hourglass every so often, but with the same disappointing result every time. Time was running out on them, and they both knew it.

"Ha—Harry?"

"Yeah." They were curled up together, both shivering uncontrollably. Mace knew already it was the onset of hypothermia, caused by the cooling of the body.

"Look... at me." Harry forced himself to roll over, so they were facing each other. In the dim light, they both looked blue about the lips and ears.

"Just had to... tell you... I wish I'd m-met you sooner, Harry." He smiled, although it was difficult given the circumstances.

"I'm sorry it... ended up like this. If... if anything, m-m-mum and dad are waiting for me... and S-sss-sirius. I'll b-b-be with them again."

"Th-there's no afterlife, Harry."

"Believe me there is. It'll be okay. D-d-dumbledore said once... 'Death is but the next... great adventure(3).'"

Mace only smiled again, reaching up a cold hand to brush the stringy hair out of Harry's face. "Searle s-s-said we're all just stardust in... in the end." Harry reached up a trembling hand, and gripped his friend's. The edges of his vision were beginning to dim, and both realized they had run out of time.

"Kiss me, Harry." And Harry obliged. The last thing Harry saw, were the soft grey eyes of his friend.

AUTHOR NOTES: I should point out here, Harry is nearly 19, while Mace is 25 (based on the age of the actor who portrayed him, when the movie came out in 2007... I've actually made him a year younger, to further close the age gap), so the age gap isn't quite as ridiculous as I've had things in the past.

(1) Taken from p.710 & 711, "Order of the Phoenix", Canadian soft cover edition. Verbatim text.

(2) According to the Elder Scrolls Wiki: "Ice Spike is an Apprentice-level Destruction spell in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Similar to the path of an arrow, the caster ejects a spike of ice from the palm. The spell requires time to charge as well as time to reach its target, evening the ratio between damage and accuracy." I find it rather ironic, that Mace picks up a tome which teaches him control of the very element which nearly resulted in his death. Also, I'm drawing on the concept that Tamrielic magic works very different than Harry's. There are other factors at work that most certainly twist the normal logic here. Another hint for those who haven't guessed the answer to my previous question: the hourglass is a Daedric artifact, given to Harry by its owner. So... a Muggle gaining the ability to cast magic? A cakewalk, to a Deadric prince, no?

(3)Taken from p.215, "Philosopher's Stone", Canadian soft cover edition. Verbatim text.