The room was slowly filling up with shadow as Harry lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the dull, white ceiling of his bedroom. His trunk lay carelessly thrown beside him on the floor, unpacked and untouched even though he had been home for nearly two days, and he was grateful that the Dursley's had left him alone for the night, because he needed the time to think.

His last conversation with Malfoy was repeating itself like a broken record in Harry's mind, and while Tom Rutherford's memory had renewed a sense of hope that Draco could change, Harry couldn't help but worry that outside influences would cause Malfoy to forget what he had said in the stillness of the Trophy Room that day.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Malfoy crept through the shadows of a dark street, his heart pounding and his palms sweating as he stared into the night for any sign of the Death Eaters. He knew that his life would be over instantly if he was caught delivering the warning, and the chances were anything but low that the very street he was attempting to navigate was being patrolled.

"And all for that pretentious, embarrassing, red-headed moron…" he thought, narrowing his eyes, but deep down he knew that he wasn't risking everything for Ron, or for any of the Weasley's, really. Ron was Harry's best friend, and even though Draco personally thought of him as a disgrace, he remembered shakily that he had once viewed Harry in a very similar way, or at least he had tried to. If anything happened to Ron, and Harry asked him if he could have prevented it, any ability to lie would fade as fast as Draco's inhibitions had under Harry's gaze.

"I have to do something, even it's just something little, to try and stop this from happening," he decided firmly, fixing his eyes on the old payphone at the end of the street that was bathed in ghostly moon-light.

Harry's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sharp ring from his bedside table, and he groaned loudly, reaching out and fumbling for the phone in the blackness.

"'Lo?" he mumbled groggily into the receiver after he had located it and pressed it to his ear. There was silence on the other end, and Harry cleared his throat. "Hello?" he asked more clearly, curious as to who in the world would be calling the Dursley's at such a late hour, but once again there was no reciprocal greeting, and Harry sighed, starting to feel annoyed that his daydream of a certain blond-haired boy had been so rudely interrupted. "Look, if this is some kind of prank call, I really don't have the time or the patience for thi-"

"Harry? Harry…" The mystery caller had finally spoken, and Harry had to strain his ears in order to hear the quiet voice.

"Who is this?" he asked cautiously, wracking his brain for any memory of giving the Dursley's phone number to someone he knew from the wizarding world besides Mr. Weasley.

"Harry, you have to get to Ron," the caller continued, and Harry recognized the voice with a spasm of shock deep in his stomach.

"Draco-" he began, but he was cut off.

"They can't know that we talked, Harry, they CAN'T, so hurry. I don't have much time. Get to the Weasley's. The Weasley's are in danger. It's him, Harry…do you know what I'm saying to you? He has…plans….you have to trust me. I know Ron's your best friend. Get there before midnight tonight and you might have a chance. Take him to The Leaky Cauldron. HURRY. I have to go."

Malfoy heard the unmistakable crunch of footsteps, and he turned around sharply. Tall shadows of robed individuals started to appear ominously on the black pavement, and Draco knew that the Death Eaters would round the corner at any second. Gripping the phone for one last prolonged moment, he tried to think of something profound that he could say to Harry, but he seemed to be frozen, and he could think of nothing.

There was a click, and the line went dead. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his mind was racing with confusion about what had just happened. He couldn't even imagine a situation dire enough for Malfoy to risk exposure by contacting him through the telephone at his aunt and uncle's house.

"What on earth is happening?" Harry wondered in a panic, resting his head in his hands, "and what is he playing at calling me here? ANYONE could have been listening!"

Harry mentally reviewed the ominous threat toward the Weasley family that Draco had just revealed. If Harry could only take the words at their face value, what Malfoy had said seemed fairly straightforward. Unexpected and upsetting, yes, but still clear. Voldemort was undoubtedly the "he" that Draco had been referring to, and he seemed to be planning some sort of an attack on the Weasley family that would take place at midnight. Harry pressed his palm to his forehead. It made sense. Draco was currently the newest Death Eater under the employ of Voldemort, which meant that his chances of over-hearing plans were high.

"Draco! Is that you?" The loud, severe voice cut through the darkness and Malfoy took a deep breath, gathering his composure and making sure he had an arrogant expression of indifference etched in his features to mask what he had just done.

"Yeah, it's me," he drawled, leaning casually against the phone booth to hide his wand hand, which he had concealed behind his back to perform a quick spell that might just save his life.

"What the bloody hell are you doing wandering around when you were specifically told not to move from headquarters until you received word? Who have you been talking to?"

The heavily framed man was eying the phone booth with heightening suspicion, and Malfoy distinctly saw him reach for his wand.

"This old thing? You've got to be kidding me!" Malfoy said quickly, faking a laugh. "Why on earth would I be talking to someone on a muggle phone? I just needed some fresh air. I mean, come on. It was just a quick walk, you know?" He prayed that the other man couldn't see him shaking in the moonlight. The Death Eater strode up to the phone and lifted it to his ear.

"It doesn't work anyway," he said to the others, and Malfoy let himself exhale in relief at his efficiency with charms. "But Draco, you'd better buck up. This is no time to be feeling uneasy. The Dark Lord won't be as understanding as I'm being right now, so get back to headquarters and STAY there until you're sent for. Got it?" Malfoy nodded.

Another voice in Harry's mind spoke up. "Draco has joined Voldemort, just like his father. Don't you get it? This is a trap. This is a trap to draw you in so that Voldemort can kill you."

"No. Draco wouldn't do that," Harry reassured himself. "No, he wouldn't. Not after everything we've been through."

The little voice was persistent. "You said yourself that outside influences could make him forget. Do you really think that he'll choose you over Voldemort? Or even that he HAS that choice?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed and stared at the phone as if it would somehow give him the answers he needed. Malfoy had sounded sincere. The fear in his voice had seemed real, but how could Harry take the word of a boy who was now taking orders from the wizard who had killed Harry's parents and longed for the chance to kill Harry himself?

But a different feeling started to rise up in Harry's chest again. He remembered the tenderness, the truthfulness that he had felt coming from Draco when they were in the hospital wing together and the admiration in his face as he stood by Tom Rutherford's trophy, wishing he could follow the same path.

"Good," the Death Eater said without a smile. "The path you chose means that your loyalty lies with the Dark Lord, and him alone. Never forget that."

"Yes, I know" Malfoy responded dutifully, but he thought sadly, "I never had a choice…"

"Maybe he won't choose me," Harry said aloud into the stillness of the room, "but I choose him. I choose to have faith in something that no one else would have faith in." And besides, he knew that he could never take any sort of a chance with the Weasley's safety. Their danger was his own, and as the only wizard with a non-Death-Eater status who was aware of what might happen, it was Harry's duty to try and prevent it.

He quickly glanced over at the clock near his bed and saw with horror that the bright green digits were flashing 11:50 PM. "Bloody hell!" he said, jumping to his feet so quickly that he nearly tripped over his trunk. How had it gotten so late already? For a few seconds, he simply stared at the clock, his mind blank, but when the 50 turned suddenly to 51, he realized that he had no more time to waste. He would have to apparate, trace be damned. Quickly extracting his wand from his pocket so that he could be prepared for whatever disaster he might be arriving in the middle of, Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could and concentrated with all of his effort on the Burrow.

"Come on," he thought desperately, rotating carefully in place. "If there was ever a time for this to work, it's now. Come on, Harry. You CANNOT screw this up."

He knew he had successfully apparated before he even opened his eyes, because he could feel the soft rush of a breeze through his hair and the light tickle of grass against his ankles. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you," he whispered and opened his eyes to see himself standing in the garden of the Burrow, looking through a dimly lit window into what appeared to be a peaceful and undisturbed home.

Without allowing himself even a moment, however, he swiftly mounted the front steps and knocked urgently on the front door, praying that someone would hear him quickly, because time wasn't a luxury that the Weasley's currently had.

Lying on an uncomfortably hard mattress back at headquarters, Malfoy had never felt so alone. All he could hear was the steady drip of rain that had just begun to fall outside, and all he could think about was Harry…Harry, who was in very real danger right now…Harry, who he longed to hold, to touch. He let his thoughts drift dangerously, and the memories of their last meeting started to flood through his body like fire.

"Mr. Weasley!" Harry called, "Open the door, please. It's Harry!" He knocked loudly on the wood, but at that very moment, a loud clap of thunder drowned out the noise, and it started to rain.

Without being able to tear his mind from the daydream, Draco let the present circumstances slowly drift away, and in his mind he saw Harry as he had seen him in the Trophy Room, staring at him with penetrating eyes as if he wanted to unravel Draco simply by looking at him. Something had started to stir inside of him, the same thing that was stirring now…

"Come ON!" Harry yelled forcefully, praying that he wasn't too late.

Malfoy slowly reached beneath his robe and ran his fingers down his body the way Harry had done, so passionately, so perfectly.

"Ron? ANYONE?" Harry was starting to worry that the storm was carrying away all of his attempts to get the Weasley's attention, and he quickly checked his watch. 11:55. He groaned loudly.

Malfoy groaned. He could feel himself falling away into bliss as he emulated what Harry had done to him that night, stroking himself with his eyes closed and pretending that the other boy was truly there. He could feel himself slipping over the edge.

Harry fingered his wand, trying to decide whether he should force entry, if that would be necessary, and if that would even be a possibility. But if another minute went by without a response, he knew that he would have to get inside by any means necessary. He picked up a large rock, ready to break the window.

Oh how he wanted Harry inside of him, and how he wanted to just forget his duties to the Dark Lord that were tearing his chances with Harry to shreds, not that they were much more than shreds to begin with. He found himself briefly being jealous of even Ron, who was Harry's constant companion. Did Ron even know what he really had? Harry, so close to him, so much of the time…

"Ron?" Harry called, staring in through the rain-streaked window at the blurry figure who had just appeared. Ron looked groggy and bemused, gazing at Harry as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Ron!" Harry yelled, "Open up! Come on! There's no time!"

For a few seconds, Ron stood frozen to the spot, as if he wasn't quite sure if he was dreaming or not, and then he hurriedly stepped up to the door and unlatched it, allowing Harry entrance.

"Thank God I made it in time," Harry said once he was inside the warmth and familiar comfort of the Burrow. Immediately, he approached his best friend, nervously glancing at his watch again. 11:57. Christ. "Ron, there's something I have to tell you, and it may be hard to believe, but I really just need you to accept that it's the truth, okay?"

Malfoy lay exhausted and spent on the bed, filled with a sudden emptiness that had drifted in to take the place of desire. What was the truth? He suddenly felt so unsure of who he was supposed to trust. Something told him that trust was about feeling safe with someone, being able to confide in someone. Well, if that was true, then there was only one person who he could truly trust, and that person was currently risking his life at the Weasleys. Draco cursed himself, suddenly almost wishing that he hadn't called at all. At least then, Harry would be safe…for a little while longer.

"I…how could that be?" Ron asked in shock, having just heard what Harry knew about the planned attack. "How could that be? My parents aren't even here. They're away for the night, a meeting with the Order. It's just me. What could You Know Who want with me?"

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "It could be that he thought your parents would be here. Or not. I really don't know. All I know is that we have two minutes to get out of here if what Mal-….if what…I heard is accurate…"

"And I'd like to know where exactly you DID hear this," Ron interjected. "Hang on a minute. How do I even know that you're really Harry?" Ron was backing away now.

"Ron, it's me," Harry said desperately. "There's nothing else I can tell you that I haven't told you already, and we don't have time! The way I see it, you have two choices. You can either trust me, or you can't, but I REALLY hope that you do."

Harry realized shakily that this was precisely the obstacle he had had to overcome after Draco's phone call.

The seconds ticked by.

Finally, Ron nodded his head decisively and took a deep breath, reaching toward the nearby mantle and grabbing a small, gray container.

"If we have to be out of here in one minute, Floo Powder is our best bet, right? Where are we going?"

Harry smiled gratefully in thanks. "The Leaky Cauldron," he said hurriedly. "We'll grab a room there and tomorrow we can find your mum and dad." Ron nodded, and the two boys took a step toward the fireplace. Ron threw a small handful into the flames and watched as they turned a glorious green in the dimly lit room. Stepping in, he clearly called out, "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared with a small pop.

Harry took his friends place and repeated Ron's actions, hearing the Weasley's large clock strike midnight as he spun away in a cloud of smoke.

-

Harry lay in his bed at the Leaky Cauldron, impatiently listening for Ron's breathing to steady, indicating that he was asleep. Gently, he fingered the small piece of parchment that had been waiting for him when they had arrived. "Meet me behind the place where we FIRST met," the note read. "Come alone. I'll be there until morning."

Turning his head very slightly, he watched Ron in the darkness. He didn't seem to be in a deep sleep, but Harry didn't think he could wait any longer, so he slowly rose from his bed, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

The door creaked slightly as Harry opened it, and he winced, but Ron made no movement, so he slowly continued out into the hallway, feeling his heart racing.

He had had no trouble deciphering the note. He remembered their fateful first meeting in Madame Malkin's robe shop as if it had happened yesterday. Malfoy had spoken to him about the different houses at Hogwarts, and Harry remembered feeling simultaneously repelled and drawn to the strange, arrogant boy.

Now, he crept slowly and stealthily down the twisted street leading to the Madame Malkin's, not wanting to attract any unneeded attention from other late night wanderers. Draco had been taking too many risks. Harry knew that, but he couldn't push down the excitement he felt.

He saw the large sign in front of the robe shop, and he quickly slipped behind the building, holding onto the wall for sight in the total darkness.

"Draco?" he called softly, straining his eyes and hoping that the other boy hadn't given up on him. "Draco, are you there?" He thought he heard a shuffling noise and froze, taking in a shallow breath and wondering if his imagination was playing tricks on him.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, stifling the gasp that instinctively rose to his lips.

"Shhh…Harry it's me, it's just me."

Harry exhaled loudly.

"Jesus, Malfoy, you couldn't have said something? You scared the living daylights out of me. It's pitch black! Anyone could have been there."

Malfoy chuckled softly.

"The Boy who Lived, afraid of the dark? I'm disappointed."

"Yeah, well…" Harry mumbled, trying to suppress his desire to simply lunge forward and kiss the lips that were so close to his. But, there were questions that needed to be answered. "Are you planning on telling me what's going on? Or are you just going to keep pointing out my incompetencies?"

Malfoy sighed.

"I'm sure there's a lot that you want to know, Harry, but-"

"Yes, there bloody well is. In fact, I don't even think there's anything that I DO know, except that I just illegally-apparated to Ron's house where I barely convinced him to leave with me by Floo Powder in order to escape god-knows-what by midnight! Now, I have a judiciary hearing and a best friend who's going to need some serious answers in the morning."

Malfoy hung his head slightly.

"I don't HAVE any other information," he said quietly. "All I heard, Harry, was that a few Death Eaters would be 'visiting' the Burrow at midnight to take care of some business. I risked my life, my family's life, to warn you, and I'm still not out of the water yet. They know that someone is responsible, and I'm high up on the list, so please, that's all I can tell you, and I wanted to meet you here tonight so that I could be with you, because…because I don't know what's going to happen to me. Can we please just…can we please just have it be you and me right now? I just want to be with you right now, Harry. I just wan-"

Harry interrupted him by gently brushing his lips across Draco's, catching the other boy slightly off-guard. Kissing Draco into silence seemed to have become a habit of his. Draco didn't respond for a second, but then he opened his mouth against Harry's and sighed as he felt himself drift into a peaceful state of oblivion against Harry's warm body.

Harry knew that there was an inevitable discussion that would need to take place at some point, but Malfoy's vulnerability, his sincerity, told Harry that now was not the time.

He reached up to run his fingers through Draco's hair, savoring the sensation that he thought he wouldn't have been able to have again for who knows how long.

Sighing, he pulled Draco against him tightly and bent his head to leave a trail of kisses up the other boy's slender neck.

Draco moaned, pressing the palms of his hands against the small of Harry's back and then letting his fingers fall seductively just under the belt of Harry's trousers.

"I've needed this so badly," he whispered in Harry's ear, and Harry nodded into Draco's neck, nipping at the soft skin.

"Me too," he said huskily, bringing his lips back up to Draco's. "Me too."

They fell into each other and let all other thoughts melt wonderfully away until it was just the two of them, alone in the world, or perhaps even transcending above it as they pressed feverishly against each other in the darkness.

Harry had just let his hands begin to wrap themselves around Draco's belt buckle, longing to touch him again, when they were suddenly illuminated in a pure and ghostly light as the full moon shook off the heavy cloud it had been hiding behind.

Both boys stared up at the remarkable sight and Harry thought to himself that he had never seen a moon so full in his entire life. "It's beautiful," he whispered, half to himself, and Draco watched Harry's face, bathed in the glow.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he responded, his chest tight with emotion.

The two boys were so lost in the moment that they didn't even hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and they both turned in terror when they heard a voice.

"Harry? Malfoy?" It was Ron. His face was white and twisted into an expression of hatred and confusion as he stared at his best friend in the arms of his enemy.

Harry and Malfoy stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say until Harry finally came to his senses and leapt away from Malfoy, feeling his heart sink.

"Ron, how did you even-…I can explain…Just let me explain."

"Oh, really?" Ron sputtered in outrage, "You can explain? Because I would REALLY like a bloody explanation. No, you know what? No, I wouldn't, Harry. Keep your damn explanations, because nothing you say could ever explain this."

Harry opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. All he could do was stare pathetically at his best friend.

Ron looked as if he might say something else, but after a few minutes, he simply shook his head and glared at Harry with an expression that said, "I trusted you."

"Ron…wait, no please…just wait…"

But Ron had already turned and was running in the opposite direction as fast as his feet could take him.

Harry groaned and stared at the place where Ron had disappeared, feeling a chill start to creep over his body. "I can't believe this…" he murmured. "I can NOT believe this…"

He turned around to Malfoy, but he was met with only darkness as the moon started to drift behind another cloud. Draco was gone.