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 6

Four Years Ago

"Draco! Draco, are you alright?"

Her voice was shrill, not at all like her usual calm, dulcet tones. She grabbed his shoulders urgently, her eyes roaming across his body, searching for other signs of injury.

Draco impatiently pushed her off. "No time, we have to keep moving." He grabbed her hand and yanked her toward another turn on the street, doing his best to navigate among the scattered bodies upon the ground. London was gone; in its place was a warzone, a mass graveyard.

Draco risked a glance back, locking eyes with the girl running behind him. Her brown eyes were wild with fright, her breaths coming out in short and uneven gasps. He tried to convey to her that everything will be okay, that they'll both get out alive, and perhaps she noticed, because suddenly, her face screwed into a mixture between determination and anger.

"Someone's betrayed us, Draco. No one was supposed to know our location! All my girls are dead, Vince is dead, and everyone's just fucking dead, because someone gave us away!"

Draco looked away, the pain of his loss making him stagger a few steps. "Pansy, please save it until later."

Pansy yanked on his arm roughly to break his hold. She ran beside him now, glaring at him. "Dean's the only one who knew where we were." Her voice was bitter and accusing.

Draco scowled. "Damn it, Pansy! This isn't the time!" He gestured vaguely in front of him. "We need to make it past the anti-apparition barrier, and then you can accuse him all you want, alright? But please –"

His words were cut off as several bright lights flew toward them from behind, and his instincts saved them both as he yanked the girl to the ground and threw up a shield. The spell, being wandless, shattered after the impact of the enemies' curses instead of standing strong, leaving them vulnerable to the group of Death Eaters that had finally caught up with them.

"Oh shit," he heard Pansy mutter. She gripped his arm hard. "Draco, run. I'll distract them. You need to get out of here."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Shut up, and just keep going." Without a glance at the incoming Death Eaters, he yanked her back up off the ground and continued running.

Pansy kept up, although she tried to twist out of Draco's grasp. "I can cover you, give you enough time to make it the rest of the way. There's no point in both of us dying!"

Draco gritted his teeth and doggedly continued toward the border. Not that far left…

Without warming, a heavy weight crashed down upon them, forcing them both to the ground. Draco looked around him and saw that not only were there Death Eaters coming from behind, but more emerged from the buildings around them. They were waiting for him.

Barely a second passed before they were put in a strict body bind, and Draco could feel the fight going out of him. He stared at Pansy, and could see nothing but despair in her eyes.

He struggled to find her thread among the others nestled in his mind. Despite the panic growing inside him, he managed to keep calm enough to send her a message.

"Pansy, it'll be alright. Trust me, I'll get us out of here."

His oldest friend stared back at him, her gaze never wavering even as the Death Eaters came within a few feet of them.

"The Dark Lord only wanted the Malfoy kid. Kill the spare."

Pansy gave no sign that she heard the horrible voice. She stared determinedly back at Draco, as if committing his face to memory. "You know I trust only you, right?"

Draco held her gaze; he couldn't look away. "I'm sorry."

And he continued to look at her, even as tears filled her eyes and his heart clenched at the sight of them. His attention was undivided, and he wished so badly to be able to reach out and wipe them away because he had promised her. He'd promised her that he wouldn't ever make her cry again.

He still stared at her even when her thread disappeared, nothing more than a simple snap inside his mind. Even as her eyes grew dull, and he felt the tip of a wand dig against his neck, he refused to look away.

They said he was there to witness her first day of life. He'd kept a close eye on her during childhood, Hogwarts, and especially during their fierce fight for survival in the years after Dumbledore's death, so it was only fitting he watched her to her last breath.

O_O

It was well past midnight when Harry finally wrapped up his debriefing with Bill, and with the aftereffects of battle and stress wearing him down, Harry struggled to keep his eyes open. After giving Bill a small smile before the long-haired man left his tent, he slouched further down his seat and closed his eyes.

So the mission was a success. Bill's team was safe, and they came out with minimal injuries. Bill's assurances that they were not tortured during their imprisonment surprised Harry, but he was grateful. Harry himself emerged from the battle unscathed, as well as most of his team. With a bitter taste in his mouth, Harry thought of Clarke, and how the man will now never be able to see Neville's efforts with his children bear fruit.

Harry thought about the two teenagers, and wondered if they would understand their father was never coming home, if they would feel sorrow or pain. He wondered if they had even noticed their father's absence from his usual place by their bedsides.

With a great sigh, Harry opened his eyes and glared at the blank canvas wall across from him. Fuck. This was supposed to be a perfect mission. He hadn't lost a team member in five years and he had prided himself in this. It had proven his competence as the leader; it had reassured him that he was right for the job, that he deserved the people's trust.

Fucking Malfoy. How dare the git bring back the guilt and doubt that he had so successfully squandered long ago?

What if another member died on the way back? What if someone blew their covers and get all of them killed? What if the next call Harry made resulted in the death of someone he cared about? What if Voldemort won?

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose harshly and forced himself to stop thinking before he gave himself a panic attack. Rubbing his face wearily, he instead pictured the Weasleys' upcoming family reunion with Ginny and Bill. He thought of Colin Creevey entering the arms of his parents and basking in the glow of his younger brother's admiration. Parvati running into her twin's embrace, jumping and squealing all the while. Families made whole again.

Harry smiled as a sense of calm washed itself down his body. He'll get them home. He'd done it many times before. They were right to put their trust on him, and he would not disappoint them.

His smile faded when, unbidden, the blond Slytherin popped into his head again. Harry shook his head slightly. Slytherin. He hadn't thought of Hogwarts in years, and yet one glimpse of Malfoy brought the term to mind immediately.

His eyes traveled to the small table in front of him, where a hawthorn wand rested upon the surface near his own wand of holly. He had to admit that he was curious about him. Where had Malfoy been all these years? What had he been up to? The last Harry had seen of him was when Snape had swept him away after murdering Dumbledore.

Harry frowned. The memory of that night was unpleasant, although no longer painful. Still, it was not something he wanted to think about.

A footstep outside the entrance to his tent made him sit up straighter. Harry was glad for the distraction and waited with eyes trained to the wooden door, which he always believed to be ostentatious and quite ridiculous on a tent.

When Dean walked in, not even bothering to knock, Harry raised his eyebrows. So this was not a social visit, then.

"Harry, you have to let Draco go." Dean said without preamble, sitting himself down on the chair previously occupied by Bill. He held Harry's gaze for a few silent seconds, then the brown eyes dropped to his hands, which clenched tightly together. "About your normalcy…the law, can't it wait until Voldemort's been defeated? According to Olivia, Draco did nothing wr—"

"What's the story between the two of you?" Harry interrupted. He tried to appear only mildly interested – an expression Dumbledore once wore on his own face, perhaps – although a burning curiosity grew ever greater inside him.

Dean blinked at his interruption. He shrugged. "We became close about six years ago."

Harry waited, but it seemed Dean wasn't about to offer more. "Six years ago," Harry began, looking at the other man thoughtfully. "You were not with us yet, were you?"

"No."

If Harry was taken aback by Dean's short tone, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded once and gestured toward a small gilt box sitting on the table between them. "Clarke's wand and last few minutes of death are in there. These are the only things I can bring home to his family. Why should I let Malfoy go free when Clarke's children are trapped in their own kind of hell?"

Dean stared stonily at him, his eyes stubbornly avoiding the box. "Draco did not torture his children into insanity. Bellatrix did."

"He took their father away from them," Harry bit back, unable to keep anger from leaking out into his voice. "That may have set them back who fucking knows how far. Neville's been trying his best, and Merlin knows he's good at what he does, but the only time those two kids respond at all was when their father stayed by their sides. What the hell will they do now, Dean? How will Neville cure them if the damn git took away their only hope?" Harry rubbed viciously at his face and collapsed against the back of the chair. "Fucking hell, mate…I'm tired of seeing orphans everywhere I look."

Dean stayed silent for a while, looking at Harry with now kind eyes. He waited until the green eyes were locked back into his own before smiling gently. "Alright. I concede," he said with a small incline of his head. His smile quirked into a playful one. "Besides, I can't say I object to seeing him for a little while longer."

Harry, amused, watched as Dean stood up and after a cheery good night, exited through the door as quickly as he had barged in. Shaking his head slightly, Harry forced his tired limbs to move and made his way slowly to the feather-filled bed tucked into the corner of the tent. Once again, the grandiose furniture made Harry roll his eyes, but just as his back touched the mattress, he couldn't help but offer a silent word of thanks to Colin. He'd never felt more comfortable in his life.

Stretching luxuriously among the airy comforter, Harry forced all thoughts about Clarke and his children from his mind. He let his eyelids fall shut, buried his face into his pillow, and let his mind relax into the bliss of oblivion. The last coherent thought he had before consciousness slipped away was the unpleasant knowledge that in only a few hours, he would be forced to wake up and take his guard duty.