Author's Note: This chapter will be told from Draco's point of view and the next one from Hermione's during the same time frame.

—Chapter 11—

Accompanying Song: Dark Side of Me - Coheed & Cambria

The night sky lit up in a dazzle of color as lightning streaked through the oppressive clouds looming overhead. A deafening crash of thunder sent tremors in its wake and commanded silence from the world below. The panels of glass, already cracked and splintered, trembled in their wooden tracks and sent fragile slivers spilling to the ground. Sleet and rain had begun to weather down the only barrier they had from the elements and begun to pool along the chilled concrete.

"Five seconds between the lightning and the thunder."

Draco shot a scowl to his partner.

Harry had maintained some semblance of optimism and cheer during the entirety of their stakeout. In just a few hours, they would have been away for over three days. While Draco had welcomed the space and time away from Hermione as the first day came to a close, this long had begun to wear on him mentally. There was too much silence, too much time to think.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room.

"1… 2… 3…"

"Potter, why is this necessary?"

"Well, I thought we already covered that? There was a rumor that Fenrir was spotted frequenting the building across-"

A splintering crack interrupted Harry. Light danced through the window and a hint of crimson was visible on the wooden frame and trickling over Draco's knuckles.

"Dammit, Potter! I know why we are here! Why must you count?"

Harry canted his head to the side, watching his partner with interest. "I was seeing how far the storm is from our location, and if it was coming or going."

Draco swiveled on his heel to face Harry.

"What does it matter," he snarled.

Harry pursed his lips as he mulled the question over. His fingertip began to idly weave through the dust along the floor beside him.

"Have you ever been in hiding, Malfoy?"

Draco was taken aback by this. Instead of responding, he propped himself against the brick behind him and waited for his partner to continue.

"I have," he paused. "I am sure you knew that already. I know what it's like to be in hiding, to be constantly looking over your shoulder for someone. It's so easy to blow your cover."

Draco arched an eyebrow and wondered where Potter was going with this.

He was fidgeting now, the hem of his jeans caught between his fingers.

"It can do a number on you mentally. He's going to be anxious, skittish, and incredibly cautious."

Harry paused as there was a flash of light, then the rumble of thunder in its wake. This time, though, it was less commanding.

"Seven," stated Malfoy.

Harry nodded to him. "The storm is retreating." He combed his fingers back through his unkempt hair. "You never want to be on the run in a storm. Your field of vision is limited. You could slip. Exposure to the elements could wear you down. The rain could mask other sounds and smells. There are endless reasons why it is a terrible idea, and I am certain Fenrir knows that as well."

As Harry fell silent, Draco averted his attention. He rolled his thumb with a slight pressure across the blood drying on his skin and flexed his hand to test the damage he had inflicted to himself. A bruise had begun to bloom under the surface and the tendons stretching up his wrist screamed in pain. He was certain there was a fracture at minimum.

Draco startled as a bandage was waved in his vision. Harry had moved with the grace of a house cat and stood only inches away.

"I would offer to help, but the last time someone attempted to heal my broken bones, he only succeeded in completely removing them." Harry chuckled, giving his head a slow shake. "Bloody idiot he was."

Cautiously, he accepted the cloth and began to bind his hand.

"I would not dare to even let Hermione attempt that, but thank you." He motioned to his hand with a nod.

Harry smirked. "I only did it for her. Hermione would kill me if I let harm come your way, even if she was rightfully pissed at you."

He was lucky that he had retreated before replying as the simmering anger had risen in Draco once again.

"What do you mean rightfully pissed?" His attempt to suppress his rage was painful, his fists balling at his side.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy," Harry groaned. "If Ginny caught me snogging on some girl, an ex no less, bats would be flying out of my nose for weeks. I get you didn't mean for it to happen, but, well…"

Harry trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I have said it a thousand times, Potter. I didn't kiss her!" Draco growled, pushing off the wall and stalking towards Harry.

"So, if roles were reversed and you saw Ron kiss her, you wouldn't feel anything?"

The words tumbled from Harry's lips before he could stop them.

Draco froze in his tracks. His stomach physically reeled at just the mention let alone the thought of witnessing that. Harry's laugh brought Draco back into the moment and a breath he didn't know he was holding released.

"Malfoy, you got it bad. You both do, really. I know you two say you love each other, but I think it's more than that. I think you two are in love, or falling into it."

With that revelation, the room became stifling. The walls around him felt like they were folding in and his breathing became more shallow. He knew he loved her, but he cared for plenty of others. His mother. Theo and Blaise. Hell, even Pansy for Merlin's sake. But in love?

"Malfoy?" Harry's voice was distorted and far off as if underwater.

His mind reeled and he staggered to catch up with his thoughts. With his vision swimming, he braced himself against the window ledge. The implication of Harry's words danced in his mind. Everything was screaming at him to get out of there, to leave everything behind. Hermione said it herself, she made a mistake. Perhaps he did too in thinking everything could work.

The glass before him began to fog with each ragged exhale. A soft pressure was on his shoulder but his mind had control and his body was unable to react. The thoughts came in rapid succession with no reprieve.

He loved her despite what could be perceived as her flaws, but did she love him like that?

He was ready to toss aside all he knew and bend to her every whim, but would she ever trust him as he did her?

Hands on his shoulders began to vigorously shake him.

"Malfoy!"

Harry startled him from his thoughts. His wild eyes blinking as he regained his bearings.

"Malfoy, I need you here not just physically. A shadow just moved across a window over there. We need to go over our strategy again."

"Why don't we just rid the world of one of the most notorious Death Eaters?"

Harry shot him a scowl. "He needs to answer for his crimes, and help us find the remaining ones on the loose. You know as well as anyone how many are still out there, missing or spotted."

But Draco wasn't listening to him. His eyes were trained on the movement across the street. Someone was pacing the first story window. If they surprised them, they could easily take them down and have the upper hand. Why wait for him to come to them?

As if sensing his deviation, Harry shook him again.

"Malfoy, we need to be on the same page. I'm going to loop down around to cover the back entrance and you take the front. We do not enter the building. We wait for them to come out."

Malfoy nodded, tugging his cloak up onto his shoulders and drawing the hood to mask his distinguishably bright hair.

"I know. We have gone over it a thousand bloody times, Potter."

He shouldered past Harry and down into the alleyway.

But his mind was not as clear as it had been, and he knew that it could cost him precious seconds to deliberately disobey Harry. Fenrir deserved to die.

A tug-o-war raged in his mind, torn between his ongoing inner turmoil about his betrothed and the searing rage and need for revenge against Fenrir. Images flashed across his mind like photographs. His father standing aside as The Dark Lord used Fenrir like a weapon to push Draco to do what he commanded. The way his mother's sobs echoed through the corridors of the mansion when Fenrir had rounded on her with intent to show just what he was capable of. The way his body was splattered and caked in the blood of the innocent every time he was around and left a stench so pungent that Draco could still smell it in his nightmares.

How dare he get to live in a world without Dementors to cause him even a fraction of the pain he caused. How could they let a monster like this have the possibility of escaping? Of returning to society? Of redemption?

The rain had come to a slow drizzle that softly scattered over the wool of his cloak. The gentle patter would be soothing in any other instance, but Harry gave the signal letting him know he was in position: a faint flicker of light off the west corner of the building. Draco fell into position, ducking into the foliage planted along the foundation to obscure himself from vision. Where Harry had an invisibility cloak that gave him an edge, Draco had to rely on his magic and survival skills.

Silence descended upon them as they waited. The individual on the other side of the door was growing antsy and continuously pacing by the entrance Draco had sights on. The creak of the floorboard under heavy footfall grew more frequent. Draco slid the handle of his wand into his palm, a spell resting on his lips.

"Stuns only, Malfoy."

Harry's words echoed in his ears.

But there was little time to react.

The door was thrown open with a resounding crash. The stench of rotting meat filled Draco's nose before he could physically see the source. With a commanding presence, the werewolf stalked out of the building. Rippling muscle were coated with coarse fur that was caked with what one could only hope was mud. His claws clicked as they met the cobblestone, but he paused as he passed through the threshold. His head tipped back as he took a deep whiff. Without a second guess, he was racing towards Draco's location.

Panic gripped into Draco's chest and the voice in his head screamed for him to run.

"Stupefy!"

A flash of red shot forth as he stepped from the hedge, but the shooting pain from his earlier injury caused his hand to tremble. The spell skimmed Fenrir's shoulder, singing the fur and exposing the tendons and sinew under the taut flesh. The werewolf roared, staggering back a pace before gaining ground with a renewed vengeance.

Another flash of light erupted from Draco's wand as he began to back away. Fenrir rolled again, barely managing to avoid being hit. Distant shouts from Harry were converging on his location, but would it be soon enough?

Before the next spell could leave his lips, a blast of red ricocheted off the brick to Draco's right sending a shower of debris cascading down on him. A second figure they had not accounted for was cloaked in the shroud of darkness provided by the building's entry.

"Bombarda!"

A blast of blue light shot over Draco's shoulder and into the doorway. The splintering of wood and stone sent the person that had been hidden into the clearing.

A flash of brown hair, human.

Antonin.

He knew there were a handful of escaped criminals when his father was broken free, but he did not remember that name on the list.

"Flipendo!"

Draco's spell hit Fenrir in the chest, scattering him just feet away as he made to lunge on Draco.

Harry had locked into an intense back and forth with Antonin. Both wizards were firing a rapid succession of spells at one another, deflecting bolts of magic and causing them to ricochet off their surroundings with each flick of their wrist. As Fenrir rose onto one knee, Harry dove towards Draco to avoid the next spell from Antonin and sent a retaliatory one at Fenrir instead.

"Stupefy!"

That moment of distraction was all Antonin needed.

"Crucio!"

There was no time to react.

A searing red filled Draco's vision as he collapsed to the ground, liquid fire tearing through his body. His back bowed and body convulsed on the pavement as waves of mind-numbing pain crashed over him. Each ripple of pain caused his limbs to contort and his chest to seize as his lungs were left gasping for air. Agonizing screams pierced through the alley, deafening and reverberating in his skull.

His vision began to dim, flashes of light intersecting over his prone form as the two standing wizards advanced on his location. Harry's hand was on his shoulder and he was shouting something, but whether it was a spell or a command he could not decipher. The spell may have been lessening it's hold on him, but the echo of it left his body trembling.

There was a familiar pull of Harry activating their portkey.

The duo landed in a thicket of grass, a field where they would activate their second portkey back to the ministry, but whether Draco would make it was unclear.

A final spell had connected with his torso, ripping a chasm from his hip through his chest and shoulder. A thick sea of red had begun to coat his clothing and a splattering of blood peppered his face. His chest rose and fell in labored gasps and wide eyes darted as they sought out help. His fingers trembled as they curled into the front of Harry's cloak. Draco struggled to cling to consciousness.

"Oh God, Draco. It's alright. We will be back to the Ministry. Just hold on. I got you."

The reassurance he tried to convey was drowned in the panic in his voice and the tremor of his hands.

"Please, just hold on."

The grip on Harry loosened.

Draco was dying.