Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the plot, characters, spell names, places, etc. mentioned in the Harry Potter books and movies. I am writing for fun and not for profit.

Chapter 2

Gentle wind tussled Draco's hair, the only sign of movement on the tall, lean man. He sat crossed legged, straight backed, and unmoving upon grass wet with morning dew, eyes lightly closed. His hands rested upon each knee with not even the smallest twitch of a finger. The vivid morning sun beamed down through tangles of tree branches to reflect almost painfully brightly against his platinum head.

A short distance away laid the remains of a campfire gone cold. Tiny puffs of ash stirred in the breeze, but no amount of oxygen could coax the fire back into life. Around the campfire, four human-shaped lumps breathed deeply in slumber. Rough blankets covered them from head to toe, blocking out the sun's rays. The small group had been too tired for even a simple conjuring charm when they returned to the campsite just last night after the success at Peterhead.

A swift's chirp caused one of the lumps to stir. Struggling slightly with the blanket, Blaise poked his head out of the thick fabric and looked around him, squinting his eyes against the brightness. Immediately, he spotted Draco but did not call out to him, just in case the blond had succeeded in falling asleep while sitting up.

Blaise threw the blanket off him and stood up with a little difficulty. He hated sleeping on the grass as his back always paid dearly for it. After stretching, he made his way quietly toward a secluded area to relieve himself. As he passed by the still blond, he spotted a pile of clear vials near Draco's foot and immediately felt his stomach drop sharply in dread. All of the vials, save for one, contained smoky gray wisps. Struggling to prevent himself from grabbing his friend's thin shoulders and shaking them in frustration, Blaise bent down and gathered up the bottles, throwing them carelessly into the sack near Draco's side. Several of the bottles held more than one wisp, containing more than one memory. Keeping as quiet as he could, Blaise gritted his teeth and muttered indistinctly to himself.

Once all of the bottles containing memories were hidden away, Blaise looked up at Draco's face, and his heart almost stopped when he saw tears leaking steadily out of pale eyelids. "Draco," he exclaimed aloud, too shocked to remember it was dangerous to disturb him while he was in this state.

Abruptly, muted gray eyes snapped open, locking onto Blaise's hazel eyes automatically. Smoky tendrils floated delicately among the gray pupils, giving the appearance of blind eyes. For several seconds, the two wizards stared at each other, neither letting out the breaths they held. Finally, Draco blinked, dislodging a few more tears that clung to his eyelashes as well as dissipating the smoke in his pupils.

Blaise sat back and let out his breath in a big whoosh. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" he grumbled, glaring at the pale face. "Sorry," he added. "I thought I lost you for a moment there."

Calmly, Draco picked up his wand on his lap and pointed it at his forehead. After removing the wisp of memory and replacing it into the empty bottle, he said, "This one had a family. He had a wife and three daughters. He became a Death Eater so he could feed them, so he could keep them alive." His voice was dull and emotionless, almost robotic, and he gazed blankly at nothing over Blaise's shoulder.

His stomach flipping uncomfortably in worry, Blaise searched for something to say that would bring Draco from this empty shell he always became after seeing the memories of those he killed. "He probably tortured and killed dozens of people in his lifetime," Blaise replied. "Listen, if killing bothers you so much, I'll go in next time instead. You don't need to torture yourself by doing this. At least use a fucking pensieve."

Draco absently wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his shirt. "Don't worry yourself about this, Blaise. It won't prevent me from doing my job."

"It's an unnecessary risk," Blaise growled. "I thought the memory overwhelmed you when I called your name. You're no use to anyone if you go loony." He snatched the vial away from Draco's hand and dropped it into the sack with the others. "You're needlessly hurting yourself over them. We killed them and the world gets better. You don't agree?"

A surge of relief swept through Blaise when he recognized annoyance stirring behind suddenly alive gray eyes. "I don't give a fuck about the Death Eaters we killed," Draco said bluntly. In one fluid motion, he stood up and grabbed the sack of memories from Blaise's unsuspecting hands. "Go wake up the others; we need to do some reconnaissance for the gala." Then, he turned and headed deeper into the forest, no doubt stashing the memories among the others that he had accumulated over the years.

Blaise stared after him incredulously. It was moments like these that reminded him of how very little he understood his old friend. Draco had sounded so confident when he said he didn't care about the Death Eaters, but why must he go through all the trouble with reliving the victims' memories?

Shaking his head slightly, Blaise headed back toward the campfire and saw that Gregory Goyle had awaken and was sitting up among his blankets. They gazed at each other for awhile before the big man said in his slow and deliberate voice, "He was doing it again." After Blaise nodded, Greg brought his hands together and played with his fingers. "Is he okay?"

Blaise grinned. "Of course he's fine. Don't worry yourself over him, Greg. He'll pull through. He always does."

O_O

It wasn't until the door to his office banged open when Harry realized he had been staring blankly through the window for quite awhile. He grinned when he saw his oldest friend Ron Weasley running to his desk. "Ron! I was just about to visit Hermione. Congrat…" Harry trailed off when he registered the look of panic on the freckled face.

"Harry! They're holding another gala this coming Saturday," Ron said breathlessly, his syllables tripping over each other in their hurry to leave his lips. He gripped the edge of Harry's desk tightly, whitening his knuckles.

Harry paled at the words. Death Eater celebrations never meant anything good for the Order of the Phoenix. The only cause for celebrating in Voldemort's capital was the execution of top Order members and aurors. Dreading to know the answer, Harry asked simply, "Who?"

"Ginny, Bill, and the rest of their team." Ron's answer came out in a whisper, as if he still could not believe the words coming out of his own mouth. "Harry, please. Let my team and I leave tonight. Voldemort's anti-apparition spells are still too strong to apparate directly into the capital. If my team and I apparate to the outskirts today, we'll be able to make our way to the Arx in three days and still have time left to plan a rescue."

Although it pained him to say it, as he cared deeply for Ginny and Bill, Harry gently reminded Ron, "You and your team are assigned to Swansea. You have to bring back that cargo coming in from Egypt. You know that this job is crucial."

Ron stared at Harry disbelievingly. His eyes widened almost maniacally. "Harry…are you saying I can't go?" When Harry didn't reply, Ron let out a shaky breath. "No….no. My team can go to Swansea themselves. I will go to the Arx and bring back Bill's team." He leaned forward, gazing imploringly into Harry's eyes. "How about it, mate? My team's good enough without me. Jenkins is a good man with leader potential. He can be the temporary leader. I've been watching him closely, Harry. He's got all the qualities, all the skills. He can do it. He'll bring back the cargo safe and sound."

Harry listened to Ron's ramblings calmly, for he had thrust down his own feelings deep inside him, suppressing them so that only cold rational thoughts floated clearly in his head. His worry for Ginny and Bill was tucked safely away. He couldn't act like a friend now. He needed to be the leader his sanctuary needed. Harry understood that even the tiniest mistake made by him could collapse everything he and the Order had worked for, making them all an easy target of Voldemort's wrath at their resistance.

"No, Ron," Harry said, keeping his voice calm and quiet. Before Ron started shouting, Harry held up a hand. Ron widened his eyes and stared at the palm facing him, wearing a shocked expression as if he had been slapped. "I need you to do this. You know our contact in Egypt trusts only you. If they see anyone else, they won't give up their cargo, and we desperately need that cargo." Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned. "I'll go get them instead, mate," he said.

Ron's face split into an answering smile, and he sighed in relief. "You will? Oh Merlin, that makes me feel…" he trailed off as he noticed the piles of maps Harry had been poring over. "But what about your research on the horcruxes? I know we still need to find…three more, was it?"

Harry nodded. "Voldemort's been alive for this long. I'll allow him an extra week or so."

Ron chuckled. "Thanks, Harry. This means a lot."

"No need to thank me; they're my family too," protested Harry. At Ron's uncomfortable look, Harry raised his eyebrow. "I'm glad that Ginny married Neville. I don't regret my time with her, and I don't regret giving her up. I want her back here safe just as much as you do."

Ron grinned and nodded. "I know, mate. I'm leaving this to you then."

Harry returned the nod. "Now go spend time with your new daughter before you have to leave."

Once the door to his office closed with Ron's departure, Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Despite his worry for Ginny, Bill, and the rest of the team, Harry couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of leaving this damned tower and doing something worthwhile. He was pants at this research business and being forced to endure hours of the activity left him exhausted and grumpy.

Harry gathered the mess of parchment on his desk and tucked them into the pile destined to the archives. Smirking at the big pile of maps and accounts he had yet to go through, he got up from his seat and left the office with a spring in his step, twirling his wand with sudden restless fingers.

He had a team to assemble.

O_O

AN: Thanks for reading! Please review!