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Chapter Fourteen

Draco and Hermione held vigil over Harry for the next few hours. Harry was unconscious, but he was moaning and shouting in his sleep.

As soon as they arrived into another set of woods, Draco dragged Harry onto the bottom bunk and tried to wrestle the Horcrux from his neck. When he was unsuccessful, Hermione tried as well.

"Will he be all right?" Draco asked. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and sat down in a nearby armchair.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know," she said through her tears. She sat next to Harry's unconscious form. "I hope so." She wiped his face with a small sponge.

"What happened?"

"I'm not quite sure." She filled Draco in on the details that she did know: that somehow Nagini had appeared and she and Harry had tried to fight the snake off. "But…I did something horrible, Draco!" Tears filled her eyes again.

"What…what did you do?" he asked, dreading the answer.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out two halves of the remnants of Harry's wand. It looked as if it was being held together by a strand of the phoenix feather.

"Is…that Harry's wand?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "I don't know how I can fix it!"

"Have you tried?"

She nodded. "Nothing works. It was repaired for two seconds before it broke again."

Draco held his hand out for the wand halves. "Let me have a go."

"I don't think it'll work, Draco. Not when it's broken like this." But she still handed over the pieces of Harry's wand.

"Can't hurt to try, can it?" He held it out in front of him. "Reparo!"

The wand resealed itself and red sparks flew out of its end. It looked as it did before.

"Did it work?" ask Draco, picking it up and waving it around. "It's not my wand, so it won't work well for me. When Ollivanders was captured, he kept droning on and on about wands and whatever."

Another wave of tears appeared in Hermione's eyes. "He's going to hate me!" she cried. "What if it doesn't work?"

"No, he won't, Hermione. He'll know it was an accident. He'll know you didn't mean it." Draco set the wand down next to Harry's bed.

"It doesn't matter, Draco. He'll still hate me."

"No, he won't," reassured Draco. "If there is anything that I'm sure of with Harry, it's that he won't hate you. And who knows, it might work."

They both looked at Harry, who was shouting in his sleep again.

"Shall we try to wake him?" asked Hermione.

"No, let him…let him rest," answered Draco. He looked warily at Harry who was moaning as if he were in pain. "As much rest as he can get, at least."

"I think the Horcrux is paining him. It's searing itself into his skin."

Draco saw the outline of the Horcrux around Harry's neck. He also noticed the pendant that he had given Harry around his neck, also. "I guess that's not working," he said absentmindedly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Hermione took a seat next to Harry's bed, still wiping his forehead. "Draco, thank you for your quick thinking. If you hadn't Disapparated us, we probably would've died."

"I wasn't that good. I was just scared."

"So was I. And you could've left us. Saved yourself."

Draco merely smiled at her. They fell into a comfortable, but tense silence. Harry's shouts and moans filled the tent.

Draco glanced at Hermione and saw dark, purple circles appearing around her eyes. "Hermione, get some rest. I'll keep watch and keep an eye on you and Harry."

She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep even if I tried."

"No…" Harry moaned.

Draco and Hermione shot a look at Harry. They exchanged a worried glance.

"No…" he repeated.

"Harry, it's all right, you're all right!" exclaimed Hermione. She jumped up and began shaking Harry.

"No…I dropped it…I dropped it…"

"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!"

Harry opened his eyes and Draco knew it must've been a bit strange to see his and Hermione's faces peering into his own. Draco took a step back and listened to Harry and Hermione speak. He stood up and held out his wand, gesturing to the outside. Hermione nodded at him, but didn't break what she was saying to Harry.

Draco sat outside, listening to Harry and Hermione talk. He had picked up a book from the table, "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore." Draco furrowed his brow, sure that he had not seen this book among Hermione's collection. "She must've picked this up at Bagshot's," he said to himself.

He opened the book, not particularly caring that he was reading about Dumbledore's life, more interested in passing the time. He wanted to give some privacy to Harry and Hermione and he really didn't want to be in the tent when she told him about his wand. He tried to repair it, but wasn't sure if it still worked. Nothing had really happened when when waving it, except a few red sparks. Draco couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

He settled himself into reading the book, unsure if what Rita Skeeter wrote was the truth. Everything sounded like it would be true, but why would Dumbledore, champion of all Muggle-borns, befriend Gellert Grindelwald?

He was confused about his sudden thoughts on Dumbledore. To him, Dumbledore was always the man standing between his father's master and ruling the Wizarding community. He never thought much of the old man, except that he was the puppet master who successfully controlled his puppets. He didn't particularly like Dumbledore, but he was grateful to him for extending the offer of protection. He did think that Dumbledore would be the one protecting them, but Draco actually liked how things were turning out. He liked getting to know Andromeda and Ted and Remus and Kingsley. He even liked befriending Harry and Hermione.

Draco supposed he had to thank Dumbledore for this. But he wasn't alive to be thanked. And being with Harry and Hermione for so long made Draco see how much Dumbledore had influenced their lives. Harry had been so close to Dumbledore that he was hurt Dumbledore never had said a word about their families being from the same town. Hermione steadfastly trusted in everything that Dumbledore believed in.

"Would they still feel the same if they read this?" Draco wondered. He didn't want to be the one to show Dumbledore in a bad light, so he decided that he would just let them read the book if they wanted.

Through Dumbledore's influence on his traveling companions, Draco could see that his thoughts on the old man were changing, too.

He was beginning to see that Dumbledore did, in fact, care for the greater good of the Wizarding community. His father was a Muggle-baiting wizard, but Dumbledore didn't let that stop him from becoming one of the smartest and most powerful wizards of all time. Draco did wonder about this "dabble" as Rita Skeeter put it, in the Dark Arts. But Draco "dabbled" in the Dark Arts. If Dumbledore could change, then Draco could, too, right?

A few hours later, Harry emerged from the tent, holding Hermione's wand. He sat down next to Draco, but didn't say anything. Draco eyed Harry and took note of where he finished reading. He closed the book and set it down next to him.

"You all right?" Draco asked.

"I don't blame Hermione for my wand."

"Did you tell her?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think she believes me, though."

Draco shrugged. "She thinks you'll hate her for it."

"I don't."

"I know."

"Thank you for trying to repair it."

Draco shrugged. "Did it even work?"

Harry shrugged. He pointed his wand to a small spider and said, "Engorgio." The spider immediately started to grow. Harry grinned and tapped Draco's arm before stopping it from growing. "Draco, Draco, it works! You did it! You fixed it! Thanks!" He put a hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed tightly. "Thank you so much!"

Draco looked at Harry in surprise. "It worked?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I only did it so Hermione wouldn't feel so bad. It didn't work when she tried."

"Well, thank you, Draco." His eyes glanced down at the title of the book Draco was reading. "You fixed my wand."

"I think Hermione picked the book up from Bathilda Bagshot…or Nagini…" Draco noticed the flash of anger that went through Harry's eyes.

"Sorry for making us go to Godric's Hollow. I thought for sure…"

"If my mother was dead, I'd want to go to the last place I knew her, too."

"It was a disaster. We could've been killed."

"But we weren't."

"Still could've. And you and Hermione…you guys would be dead because I just had to go to Godric's Hollow."

"I agreed with you that we should go. So did Hermione."

"But—"

Draco rolled his eyes, getting annoyed. He didn't really like Harry's pity party. "I'm not going to say I know how you feel. Because I don't. And quite frankly, I really don't care. But I'm not going to lie to you. Yeah, so it wasn't a good idea to go to Godric's Hollow. Especially since Hermione wanted to go because she thought the sword would be there and you…you just wanted to see your parents. And he…he knows you. You-Know-Who knows how your mind works. He knew you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow, didn't he? He set a trap and you fell for it. And we could've died."

"Are you supposed to be making me feel better?"

"I don't care whether or not you feel better. All I care about is that we all got out of there alive. And we've crossed off one place where the sword is not: Godric's Hollow. So now we can check on other places that it might be."

Harry fell silent. "When did you get so smart, Draco?" he asked after a few tense moments.

"I've always had more sense than you. But being in such close quarters with some…damn Gryffindors…makes one think differently, I guess." Draco flashed a small smile at him.

"Hermione told me you saved us. You Disapparated us. You saved us," he repeated.

Draco shrugged. "You would've done the same."

"Of course I would've done the same. But you wouldn't have. Slytherins would save themselves before risking their necks for anyone else. You did a very…Gryffindor thing back there."

"Say nothing to no one and you'll be safe, Potter." He smirked.

The two of them fell silent. Snow fell lightly around them. It looked like it was about midday, but the air was so cold and the sky was so gray that they couldn't tell.

"Draco, I'm sorry for casting the Sectumsempra on you last year."

Draco furrowed his brow. "It's all right. And you've already apologized. Where did you learn that, anyway? Pretty dark magic for saviour of the light."

"My Potions book. Turned out to be Snape's old one."

"Is that how you were so good at Potions last year? I thought I must be going crazy; Potter, top of the class."

"It certainly drove Hermione crazy. She kept warning me to turn in the book."

"Why didn't you?"

Harry shrugged. "I felt some sort of strange connection to it. It taught me a lot and not just about Potions."

"Sectumsempra?"

"Yeah…" Harry nodded. "And the Levicorpus spell and a few other things."

"Levicorpus? Death Eaters use that to—"

"Yeah, I kind of figured out what they use it for. Have you learned how to do any of those?"

"Of course I have. You don't know how many times I've tried to Levicorpus you at school." He smirked. "Learned Sectumsempra when I was fourteen."

"Use it on anybody?"

Draco shook his head. "No. It seems you've beaten there."

"Do you…did it…do you still have the scars?"

Draco took his time answering. He nodded slowly. "Yes. Snape said the scars would never go away."

"And yet you're here. You don't want to kill me for doing that to you?"

"Well, don't you want to kill me for everything I've done to you?"

Harry gave him a small smile. He threw a rock at a tree. "So…about you teaching me Occlumency…"

"You wish to learn?"

Harry nodded. "I think Hermione's right. I should keep him out of my head."

"Or you should at least control what you see."

"Can Occlumency do that? Control what can be seen?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. If you are skilled enough at it, you can control what your attacker sees."

"Why are you so good at it?"

"I…I suppose it's because I'm good at shutting people out. It's easier to compartmentalize your feelings when no one wants to hear them. And I suppose it's difficult for you because of your…Gryffindor-like tendencies."

"I think you should be worried about your Gryffindor-like tendencies."

"Shut it, Potter." Draco stood up and gestured for Harry to face him. "Close your eyes and clear your mind." He pointed his wand at Harry. "Leg—"

"Would either of you like some tea?" Hermione interrupted, walking out of the tent with a tray of three cups of tea trembling in her hands. "What are you guys doing?" she asked, worriedly glancing at Draco's wand and Harry's closed eyes.

"He was about to teach me to close my mind, Hermione." Harry opened his eyes and took one of the cups. "But thanks."

"Oh, that's a great idea, Draco," Hermione said, handing him a cup. She sat down where Draco had just sat. "Have you done much?"

Harry shook his head, taking a sip. "No."

"Oh. Sorry," she said. Her lower lip trembled a bit.

Draco sat down next to her. "Stop beating yourself up. He doesn't blame you for his wand. Besides, it works." He glanced at Harry and saw a flicker of resentment in his eyes. Instantly, he knew that Harry still harbored some sort of ill feeling toward Hermione for breaking his wand, but saw that he was trying to get past it.

"Yeah," Harry said, sitting down next to her. "My wand works perfectly fine." He waved it around.

She bit her lip and nodded uncertainly. Her hand fell on the book between her and Draco. "Have you been reading?" She looked at Harry expectantly.

"No. Draco was." Harry gestured to Draco.

Draco nodded and stood up. "I doubt the pair of you will enjoy it very much. I know you both thought Dumbledore moved heaven and earth.

Harry took the book from Hermione and leafed through the pages. "Gellert Grindelwald?" he exclaimed loudly.

Draco turned toward the tent. "Start at the chapter 'The Greater Good,'" he advised. "If you really want to. You won't like it. I'm going to take a nap."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look as Draco headed into the tent. He took his trainers off and pulled some blankets from Harry's bunk. He wrapped himself in them and lay down on the bed, listening to Harry and Hermione speak in low voices outside the tent. Draco slowly drifted off to sleep, his eyes fluttering close while he looked at the silent Sneakoscope.

Draco woke suddenly from a dreamless sleep. He looked around in fright, still not used to staying in the tent. He heard someone crying, sobbing almost. Draco slowly sat up in his bed and looked around, rubbing his eyes. He saw Hermione sitting in the armchair and her face was buried in her knees.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, his voice still weary from sleep. He cleared it. "Are you all right?" It seemed he was asking that question a lot today.

She sniffed and wiped her face before looking up at him. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just—oh, I'm worried about Harry. I think he believes that rubbish that Rita Skeeter wrote about Dumbledore in that horrible book!"

Draco bit his lip. He stood from his bed and moved to stand next to Hermione.

"Oh, don't tell me you believe it, too!"

"Hermione—"

"But he changed! Dumbledore changed! Of course he didn't think the same things that he thought when he was younger."

"Hermione—"

She shoved him. "You, of all people, should understand!" She shoved him again, harder. "You've changed! You've seen differently! You're different! You don't still believe that rubbish that your father taught you! That purebloods are better than other witches and wizards. That following You-Know-Who is the only way to live." She punched him relentlessly until he caught her hands.

"Stop hitting me, Hermione," he said, forcefully.

"Let go of me."

"Are you going to keep hitting me?"

"No."

He let go of her and took a few steps back. "What happened?"

"Harry…and that damn book! He…he's just mad at Dumbledore because he didn't tell him any of those things himself."

"So why does Harry care?" Draco was genuinely confused.

"Dumbledore and Harry were close. Very close."

"Oh right. Harry was Dumbledore's favourite."

Hermione threw Draco a dirty look. "No need to be angry over it."

"I'm not. I'm just saying that Harry was Dumbledore's favourite. It was obvious."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Draco—"

"Why were you hitting me?" Draco rubbed his chest. "In case you don't know, it actually hurts a bit when you hit someone."

"Well you would know, wouldn't you?" She threw him another dirty look.

"Have I done something to offend you?" He sat down across from her, holding a pillow to protect him from any more physical attacks from Hermione.

"You have changed, haven't you? You're not that person anymore? That person, that stranger, who used to call me a 'Mudblood'? Who hated me because of my blood?"

Draco looked at her, confused. "I thought…I thought we settled this. No, I don't think of you as a-a…Mudblood anymore. I don't…I don't hate you."

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. "And, given the choice, you wouldn't go back to him, would you? You'd choose us? Me?"

"Is that what you're worried about?" He nearly laughed, but saw the fierce look in her eyes. "Why would I go back to a man, if you could even call him that, who's just going to kill me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw a pillow as hard as she could at him.