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.

AN: Forgive me if I'm spamming my followers. I've been going back and fixing all the grammar mistakes I've found.

Chapter 8

"Hey kid, can you move?"A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him. His shoulder blades, which stuck out prominently from his emaciated body, hit the wall, and the rough brick surface easily scratched the fair skin.

This didn't bother him so much, though. His entire body was covered in scrapes and bruises. What does a few more matter?

But the shaking continued, and he wished it would stop. He wanted to sleep. He didn't have the energy to do anything other than sleep these days. Even opening his eyes seemed like too much work. Opening his mouth to tell the idiot shaking him to get the fuck out was near impossible.

His mind was shutting down again, despite the shaking, so he guessed it wasn't a big deal anyway. He could still get some sleep, and when he woke up he'll find some food and continue his search for Pansy and the rest. The fact that this same thought had passed his mind for the last few days without him actually doing it didn't worry him.

Distantly, he felt his left arm being lifted by callused fingers, and he heard a sharp gasp.

"What's someone like you doing here, boy?"

Of course, he didn't answer. He simply rolled his head to bury his face into the crook of his other arm, ignoring the stranger without a problem.

However, a sharp pinprick of pain in his left arm caused him to finally open his eyes, and with difficulty, he raised his head to look up, squinting his eyes against the harsh afternoon sun.

Squatting down in front of him was what appeared to be a man-sized animal. He blinked. No, not an animal. Just a man. A man with the biggest, unruliest, and dirtiest beard he'd ever seen covering his face.

The man was still holding onto his left arm, fingers wound tight around his wrist. Half-heartedly, he tried pulling out of the grasp, but he couldn't even twitch a finger.

Suddenly, and without warning, an almost overwhelming feeling of contentment bloomed inside his body, starting at the backs of his eyes and rushing down to the tips of his limbs. He let out a breath in pleasant surprise when he found that he now had the energy to move. In fact, he wanted to move. A feeling of lightness had permeated his body, making him feel weightless and free. The fatigue, hunger, lethargy, and weakness that had enveloped him and that had successfully prevented any real movements just a minute ago were nowhere to be found. He twisted his arm out of the man's hold, and this time, he was successful. Looking at the man, into those bright, blue eyes, he found himself smiling.

The man smiled back, tucking something into his pocket. He held out his callused hand again. "C'mon kid, you need to be fed. I can practically play the xylophone on your ribs."

The what? He smiled again in answer. It didn't matter if this man was crazy. For the first time in a long time, he was happy. Nothing could bother him. Merlin, he was so happy.

He heard the man chuckle and once again, he grabbed his wrist and pulled him up to stand with him. He had the energy to hold himself up, and another blossom of euphoria rushed through his body. How many days had passed with him just sitting there, with no energy to do anything?

The man was pulling him to walk now, but he didn't mind that. He'd follow, since nothing else really mattered anymore. He felt complete and whole. This must be what the accomplishment of all possible goals felt like. The ultimate reward. He wasn't sure what he had done, but he was completely certain that he'd done it, and here he was, being rewarded. He could finally throw away all of those plans he'd concocted in his head and simply be here, feeling like this. He was done! He completed everything he had to. Nothing was holding him back, and he would never have to worry about anything ever again. He felt free. He licked his cracked lips, savoring the word on the tip of his tongue.

"The name's Sylvester, kid. Do I get to know yours?"

He blinked at the man, and grinned. "My name is Draco Malfoy."

The grip around his wrist tightened almost unbearably, but Draco forgave him. The pain was nothing compared to this happiness.

"Well, Draco. Don't you worry. I can take good care of you. Food, a place to rest, anything. Anything at all."

O_O

When the hold on his wrist suddenly disappeared, Draco blinked rapidly, suddenly aware of the fact that he was currently trekking across the feeding grounds by himself. He looked down at his body to find himself invisible, and noticing the different puffs of dirt being repeatedly thrown into the air, he remembered that he wasn't alone.

Potter's spell still had its hold inside him. It felt like a hook that had impaled itself inside his chest, and he had no choice but to go where the hook led him, like some dog on a leash. However, the spell was nothing compared to the rapid beating of his heart as the image of Sylvester embedded itself into the forefront of his mind.

Draco took in a long breath, letting it out slowly to try to calm himself down. He'd thought he was over it. Pansy, Greg, Blaise, and the rest of his Syltherins…they'd all played a hand in his recovery from the four months he'd spent separated from them. Even Dean unknowingly had helped him heal, kept him distracted. He thought that he'd overcome the suffering, the constant desire and hope and paranoia and depression and scars and begging and desperation and not being able to fucking sleep and pain and—

The hand was back again, around his wrist. Draco swallowed and stared, although he could see nothing but the pale brown dirt beneath him, but he felt the difference. Potter's hand was warm and surprisingly gentle. Not pulling, but simply holding him. Draco recalled the look of hatred in the green eyes at their reunion only yesterday and wondered what had changed. With a smile, he thought of the way Potter and the muggle woman had made a fool of Sylvester and his men back in the city.

He continued walking behind Potter, judging the pros and cons of pulling his arm back a little so that his hand fell into Potter's grasp instead. The picture in his mind almost made him burst aloud laughing, and he decided to leave Potter be. If Potter wanted to make sure Draco hadn't run off, he shouldn't blame him. A small part of him felt grateful for the Boy Who Lived. After all, he knew he could never do what Potter did. Fighting and even dueling weren't really his strong points.

With regret, he was reminded of his potions and his hollowed knife, the two things he was good at, and they were both gone. His right hand moved automatically to his waist, feeling the absence of the belt like the lost of a limb. The movement jerked his shoulder wound, but Draco didn't mind. It probably wasn't too serious as Dean had already treated it.

Draco looked around him, taking note that, once again, there was nothing interesting. He suspected that his Dark Mark had something to do with it, but for all the times he had traveled through the feeding grounds, the creatures never gave him any trouble. He sighed again, this time because of boredom, and wondered what his friends were doing now.

Blaise would be furious, Draco guessed. He would be trying to contact him right now. His efforts would be in vain, unfortunately, as the magic that connected their thoughts did not work in long distances. However, that wouldn't stop him, and he would try again and again until he passed out from the headache that was sure to result. Theo wouldn't much care. That scrawny little wizard, although trustworthy, was used to being independent, and would revert to his role as leader as easily as he did when Draco was captured by the Death Eaters. Millicent was a bit harder to read. She would probably shrug off his absence and resign herself to having to heal whatever wounds he had gotten while he was away. Draco smiled softly as he remembered her decisive hands stitching him up after one disastrous attempt on Avery's life. She was blunt where Dean was gentle, and most of the time, Draco wasn't sure who he preferred as his healer. She had grilled him endlessly, even as he was slipping off into unconsciousness. However, that hadn't stopped her. Millicent had only performed an enervate on him and continued with her scolding, ignoring his whining and pleading to heal him the normal way.

And Greg. Draco knew the big man would say nothing, do nothing, not until Draco returned to him. The man was loyal, stubbornly so, and even to this day, Draco was still clueless as to why. Although he didn't contribute much to their escapades, Greg was important to him, and he understood that he was important to the big man as well. To have a friend who trusted his every move and his every word and stayed faithful with no arguments was, to Draco, priceless.

'-hear me, Draco? Draco?'

The unexpected voice in his head promptly caused Draco to miss a step, the tip of his left foot scraping the ground as he stumbled forward. Potter's hold tightened to prevent him from falling flat on his face, and a whispered, "Malfoy? You okay?" interrupted the spectral moaning of the wind.

"Yup. Yeah," Draco hastily whispered back. He regained his footing, ignoring the blush he knew was overtaking his face because, thank Merlin, no one else could see it.

"Something wrong, Draco?"

"No," Draco answered, his eyes flicking to his right from where Dean's voice came.

"You sure? Your wound's not giving you any trou—"

"The kid's fine, Healer," the muggle interjected, sounding exasperated. "Goddamn, the way you and Harry's been acting, the kid must be some sorta fucking princess." Snorts of laughter sounded from the invisible group while Draco blinked, not sure whether he should be offended or amused.

"Settle down," Potter said. His voice was stern, although something about it made Draco believe he was trying hard not to smile.

The group lapsed back into silence, continuing their onward march toward the black forest ahead. It was steadily growing darker, despite it being daylight only half an hour before, and the moaning wind held a hint of cold. Draco's stomach let out a silent rumble, reminding him that his last meal was the breakfast cooked by the female Weasley and Creevey that morning. It had taken them the entire day to travel through Tier 3, and they had neither time nor opportunity to eat yet.

'Draco!'

Oh, right.

'Blaise, where are you?'

'Fucking hell! Finally the bastard answers! You little shit, I've been trying to contact you for the past hour!'

'Sorry, I've been a bit busy.'

'Yeah, I saw. How'd you get tied up with Potter of all people?'

Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised. 'You saw me?'

'Yes. Believe it or not, Corbeau found us and led us to you.'

'Corbeau?' This time, shock hit him like a brick to the face, and if it weren't for the hook in his chest and Potter's hand around his wrist, Draco would've come to a full stop. 'Corbeau's still alive?'

Blaise's tone in his head sounded grim. 'Corbeau's not the only one. After we saw you get away, he led me to Sell's headquarters. Draco, Astoria and Flora are still alive. I saw them, and they weren't there by choice, either.'

Draco swallowed as his heartbeat quickened. Two of his Syltherins…still alive? After all these years? And Corbeau, his faithful companion, never far from his side – well, his shoulder, really – during his days as the Raven, was alive as well. Unbidden, guilt washed through his body, and he inwardly scolded himself for leaving behind Tier 3 so easily. He should've checked. He should've made absolutely sure that he hadn't left anyone he cared about in Tier 3 before going on his quest for revenge.

With a sinking feeling, Draco remembered that his entire life had been centered on revenge. From his initial desire to have complete control over Tier 3 as revenge against Sylvester and then his drive to avenge the deaths of his friends against the Death Eaters, the past ten years of his life was dedicated solely on getting his payback. Even when he became greedy for power, he'd never let go of the fact that he was hurting Sylvester in the meanwhile.

Dean's disappointed face came up in Draco's mind when he had told him about his reasons for killing the Death Eaters, and Draco shook his head to himself. What kind of leader was he, to leave behind his Sytherins like that?

'We're gonna get them back?' Draco sent to his friend, his face already set in determination.

'Yeah, of course. Is Potter going to let you go?'

Draco winced. Right, Potter. He was currently a prisoner. 'Er…don't think so. I killed one of his aurors. And he has my wand…my potions, too.'

Although it should've been impossible, Draco swore he heard Blaise sigh. 'Don't tell me you don't have a plan. You always have a plan. You weren't planning on actually following him to Sanctuary?' When Draco didn't answer, Blaise continued, his tone incredulous, 'Seriously? Why the fuck for?'

'Dean's here. He—'

'That fucking Gryffindor traitor? He was there? I didn't see him, otherwise I woulda cursed his arse, magical sensors be damned.'

'No, Blaise. You can't blame him. I told you, his family—'

'No yourself, Draco. Because of him, you spend two years imprisoned by Voldemort. And let's not forget that at least twelve of our friends were killed, and many more people who trusted us were killed. Vince was killed, remember? How about Pansy? Daphne? All of those people, all dead, and for what? Four women who can't do shit?' A headache was starting to blossom inside Draco's mind, but he gritted his teeth and allowed Blaise to continue his tirade. 'We gave up everything for you, mate. We gave up our families – Flora gave up her own fucking twin – because we believed you when you said the Dark Lord's plans weren't what we expected. We gave up our spots in Tier 1, only to have that piece of shit mudblood destroy us all in the end…and you dare tell me that you're leaving us to follow him?'

'I'm not!' Draco furrowed his brow as some of the ache in his head seemed to transfer to his heart. 'Fuck, I won't leave you. I'll come back. Just give me some time and I'll be there and we'll fetch Astoria and Flora.'

Blaise was silent for awhile, and Draco took the time to rub wearily at the side of his head. His wound sent a sharp spike of pain through him, reminding him that he wasn't really in the perfect condition to take on Sylvester's stronghold.

'I wouldn't be contacting you like this if it weren't for the fact that you're our best bet. You're the only one who's ever been inside Sell's place, and you're the best we have at sneaking into places without getting caught.' Draco winced as yesterday's events came to mind. 'So I'll give you till midnight to get your arse here, otherwise Theo and I will go in.'

'Right. See you soon.'

Draco savored the return of the silence in his head for few seconds, allowing the headache to fade slightly before letting out a long sigh. Corbeau, Astoria, and Flora were waiting for him back in Tier 3, and there's no way in hell he would let them down. Taking another breath to steady himself, Draco forced his feet to stop moving. "Potter, wait."

Around him, the sound of footsteps ceased, and the interrupted clouds of dirt settled back lazily to the ground. Once again, the feeding grounds was as still as death.

"Is there something wrong, Draco?" Dean asked. He sounded surprisingly close.

Potter had stopped, but had yet to say anything. His grip on his wrist was still loose, his palm warm despite the cooling weather.

Draco took another steadying breath. "Yes. You can remove the disillusionment charm. We're safe as long as I have the Mark."

He heard a snort from someone in the group. "Yeah, right. You're trying to get us eaten, Malfoy?" It was Finnigan.

"Of course not. Fine, leave it on." Draco couldn't help the impatience leaking into his voice. "Potter, I need to go back. I have friends back there who need my help."

"Really." The lilt in the feminine voice told Draco that it was the Patil girl who had spoken. "You sure you aren't just aiming to get your Death Eater backup to ambush us?"

Draco rolled his eyes, although the effect was lost as they were all still invisible. "No, for fuck's sake. Potter, I have no quarrel with you or your army. I just need to go back for my friends."

"Why just now? Did it really take you that long to come up with that plan to trick us?" Finnigan asked tauntingly. "You really think we'll fall for it?"

The beginnings of despair started to roil up inside Draco, making him feel slightly panicky. Perhaps Potter felt the quickening of his pulse on his wrist, because he tightened his hold for a fraction of a second and then released him. Draco's arm fell to his side and he curled his fingers into a fist. "I swear it, Potter. I want nothing to do with anyone here. This has nothing to do with any of you. My friends and I can contact each other through our thoughts, and I was told that Sylvester's got them in his headquarters. That's the truth, and I need my stuff back. I need to go back."

Draco gritted his teeth as the words came out of his mouth. The words weren't up to his usual standards. They were stilted, awkward, and too desperate for his tastes. He hated this. He hated to plead his case as if he had done something wrong. Killing that maniac auror was probably a blessing, not a crime.

"Finite," Potter's voice rang out clearly and suddenly amid the ever whining wind. Abruptly, the group became visible, and Draco could see suspicious faces surrounding him from all sides. Well, except for Dean, who only looked slightly hurt. Draco wondered for a moment, but then recalled the words he had just said: I want nothing to do with anyone here. Draco looked away quickly to instead gaze determinedly at Potter. Oh, well. There were more important things than sparing an old lover's feelings.

Seconds passed by silently, interrupted by the appearance of Olivia, who had only just removed the Invisibility Cloak, and the group looked uneasily to Potter, waiting for his next action. Potter only stood still, sometimes returning Draco's stare and sometimes flicking his eyes to roam their surroundings. The sunlight had completely faded by now, and the group was bathed only in the white light of the stars. Just as Draco began to shift impatiently on his feet, Potter opened his mouth. "It seems you're right. Nothing's coming to attack us."

"So what? You can't give him his wand and let him go back! He'll send Death Eaters right to our trail!" Creevey exclaimed, stepping up close to Potter's side. Draco marveled at how the mousy git had retained his squeaky voice even into adulthood.

Potter spared Creevey a quick smile, but when he looked back at Draco, his face turned grim. "Sylvester? That was the man who confronted us before, correct?" Draco nodded. "And he has your friends?" Draco nodded again. "And you're planning to break into his home to rescue your friends?" Before Draco could do anything, Potter turned to Olivia. "Did you kill him?"

The muggle shrugged, gazing at Draco thoughtfully. "I did not. I figured the idiots already have it rough without adding dying to their list. Why? Should I have?"

Yes, Draco thought vehemently. But he only shrugged in answer, hesitant to explain his hatred of the man to these people. Even to this day, he was still ashamed of that time in his life, and he was determined not to let many people know of it. Only his Slytherins knew, and he planned to keep it that way.

Potter was staring at him, his head tilted slightly. The light from the stars threw his face in sharp relief, underlying the slightly angled face, the sharp jaw line, the shallow dip beneath each cheek, and especially the harsh slash of the lightning shaped scar. At that moment, Potter appeared almost immortally beautiful, and Draco felt his throat tighten as he wondered where that thought came from.

"I will return your things, and I'll give you one day. After that, you must return, whether or not you are successful." Potter said, reaching into the bag slung across Creevey's back to pull out a familiar belt. The glint of the vials brought a calmness that Draco welcomed gratefully. Potter held the belt out before him, and released it easily when Draco accepted it. "I'll lengthen the distance of the spell, but I can shorten it at any time. Do you understand? If I find Death Eaters coming after us, or if you don't come back by this time tomorrow evening, I will shorten the leash and you'll be knocked unconscious wherever you are."

Olivia tsked, crossing her arms tightly as if to ward out the cold. "So much trouble, Harry. For god's sake, can't you just let him go?"

Potter smiled wryly, and shrugged both shoulders a little helplessly. "Not yet. I owe something to Clarke." He gave Draco a piercing stare, but no longer regarded him with rage or hate. "Go do what you have to do. I know what it's like to want to save your friends," he said softly and glanced around him at the Weasleys, Creevey, and Patil. Then, he straightened, and gestured at Dean. "Give him back his wand, Dean. And Seamus—"

"Yeah, yeah," Finnigan interrupted. The Irishman glared at Draco as Dean handed him his wand. "I don't trust you, and I think Harry's wrong for giving you a chance." The wizard shook his head slightly and sighed. "But despite the case," Finnigan's glare turned even more vicious. "I do hope you save your friends."

Draco widened his eyes in surprise, his grip tightening around his wand and his belt. A movement behind him made him turn to look at the scarred face of the eldest Weasley. "Yeah, Malfoy. Good luck," Weasley said, giving him a crooked smile. His sister by his side gave him an even stare, neither suspicious nor kind, but a far cry better than the expression on Creevey's face.

Potter's hand on Draco's uninjured shoulder turned him back around, just in time for Draco to see Potter's wand touch the middle of his chest. A murmur too low for Draco to hear caused a purple light to emit from the tip of his wand, not so much entering his body as spreading to cover every inch of it. "There," Potter said audibly. "You should be able to be as far away from me as you need. Remember, you have one day." He waited until Draco gave him a nod, and then signaled to Finnigan.

"Right," Finnigan said, and waved his own wand. A second later, the group vanished, except for Olivia, and Draco felt the shivers running up and down his arms at the thought of unseen eyes staring at him in the night.

The muggle grinned at him. "Good luck, kid. Don't die," she said with a wink, and spread out Potter's cloak with a flourish, disappearing underneath with not another sound.

Draco gave a curt nod to the empty air before him. "Thank you," he said shortly before turning sharply on his heels to start back the way they had come.

Flora. Astoria. Corbeau, Draco thought as he began to pick up the pace and run. Wait just a bit longer. I'm coming.