And I don't want to see what I've seen

To undo what has been done

Turn off all the lights, let the morning come

Now there's green light in my eyes, and my lover on my mind

And I sing by the piano

Tear my yellow dress and cry and cry and cry

Over the love of you

-Florence and the Machine

McGonagall merely raised a curious brow when she came across Harry and Malfoy in a corridor on the second floor, significantly wetter and dirtier than she'd left them.

"Did you take care of the fire?" Harry asked conversationally, doing his best not to drip all over the carpet and failing miserably.

"Flitwick had it mostly under control by the time I arrived," she replied in her usual terse tone. But Harry could see a hint of amusement lift her cheeks after the initial shock of seeing them had passed. Harry wondered if it reminded her of older times, when she'd found him, Ron, and Hermione in the girl's bathroom with a knocked out troll, covered in grime and soaked to the bone.

"Good to hear," said Harry. "Er—well, we're going to go ahead and head out. We don't want to miss the train back."

"Of course."

Harry smiled at her. "It was really great to see you, Professor."

"Likewise," Malfoy interjected cordially.

"I expect to be hearing from both of you soon!" McGonagall insisted. "You both will be needing to take your NEWTs after all, and I'll not hear a word to the contrary about it!"

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a steeled glance, but didn't say anything contrary.

"Off with you then! I've no time for dawdling. And don't forget about my message to the other Slytherins, Mr. Malfoy."

"A Malfoy never forgets."

They said their goodbyes, and after Harry and Malfoy had picked up their brooms, they were outside and in the air once more. Once they were out of sight of the courtyard, where McGonagall had seen them off, Harry veered towards Hogsmeade. He'd never flown to the Shrieking Shack before, but he couldn't stomach the idea of going through the Whomping Willow. It would be too close to reliving what had happened that night.

It took them only a few minutes to fly the short distance between Hogwarts and the Shrieking Shack and Harry found himself landing in the yard far sooner than he was ready to. He was glad that twilight was upon them, and that the town of Hogsmeade was distant and silent. Malfoy landed next to him, the grass making a crunching sound as his shoes hit.

"Here?" he asked.

Harry stared up at the tall, rickety house, feeling a shiver take hold. "Inside."

"Show me."

Dropping his broom to the ground, Harry made his way towards the front door. It was unlocked, and opened easily. They stepped through the door, the warmth of the evening leaving them as they entered the dark foyer. Harry lead Malfoy to the back of the house, to the cold, cramped living room. Snape's body had been removed, but his blood still covered the floor and wall where Nagini had attacked him. Harry's eyes moved to the far wall where the Potion's Master had finally fallen—where he'd said his final words.

Malfoy moved closer to him, his breath coming in soft, short bursts. "Did you see it happen?" he whispered.

Harry swallowed thickly. "I did."

"How did he—no one could ever tell me how…"

"It was Nagini. Voldemort ordered her to do it."

Malfoy hissed between his teeth and walked forward into the room. He kneeled down on the floor, running the tips of his fingers over the blood stains. "Why?"

Harry's lips twitched. He wasn't supposed to talk about the Elder Wand, but the look on Malfoy's face was twisting something in his stomach. His already pale face was nearly white, and his jaw was set tight as if he thought clenching his teeth hard enough would keep his expression still. He looked wretched, and hopelessly lost. "It was the Elder Wand," Harry said slowly. "Voldemort thought he was the master of it, since…since he was the one who killed Dumbledore."

Malfoy's head lifted. "The Elder Wand? The one from the Deathly Hallows Story?"

"Yes."

"It's real?"

"Yes."

"A wand that can't be beaten?"

"That's what the legend says."

Malfoy's lips stretched down into a grimace as a realization passed through him. "Is that why he wanted me to kill Dumbledore? Because he had the wand?"

Harry shrugged, unsure how to answer. He didn't actually know. But he did know that the longer they talked about this, the more dangerous the territory grew. He could see Malfoy beginning to put the pieces together—the horror that bloomed on his face as he started to understand.

"But…but you said thought—you said that Voldemort thought he was the master of it. Which means he wasn't." Malfoy's grey eyes went cold. "Who was the master of the wand after Dumbledore, Potter?"

The answer formed itself in Harry's mouth, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to say it. He stared down at Malfoy's hand, still hovering over the dark blood stains, and felt his blood run cold. "Look…it really doesn't matter."

Malfoy glared at him. "Potter…"

"Malfoy…I don't think we shou—"

"WHO?" Malfoy thundered.

The following silence was sharp as shattered glass. "It was you. You disarmed him, and that made you th—Malfoy?"

Malfoy teetered dangerously, his palm going flat against the ground as he steadied himself.

"Malfoy?" Harry started forward.

"Merlin—I—I can't…" Malfoy heaved, his limbs starting to shake. "Potter get me out of here."

Rushing to Malfoy's side, Harry hoisted him up, wrapping an arm securely around the too-thin waist and carrying him out of the house. Malfoy fell to his knees as soon as they were out on the lawn, bringing Harry down with him. Every inch of him was trembling, and his grip on Harry's arm was painfully tight.

"Malfoy," Harry tried to sound soothing. He'd never been very good at it. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. You couldn't have…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you."

"No," Malfoy said, his voice dry and cracked. "No, I'm glad you told me. I asked you to and I'm glad you did."

Harry struggled for a moment. "You don't seem glad."

Malfoy looked at him, his pale eyes iridescent in the fading light. It hurt seeing him like that—looking as if he'd been fundamentally broken somehow. "I wanted to know."

"Malfoy…"

"I'll admit," he continued, sounding strained, "that I'm starting to realize that I really am at the center of this ball of yarn that's unraveling around me. I thought for a while, that maybe I wasn't, but I am. Potter…I'm the reason Snape—"

"No you're not," Harry moved forward, gripping Malfoy's shoulders tightly. One of his hands moved to the overly warm expanse of skin at the base of Malfoy's neck and he saw grey eyes soften. "It was Voldemort. All of it was Voldemort. Everyone that's dead is because of him and no one else."

Malfoy shook his head. "You're wrong."

Harry's grip tightened.

"If your antiquated sense of morality is what helps you cope that's fine, but I can't believe it. I can't look at the things that I've done and not take the blame for them."

"Taking the blame for things you've done is different than taking the blame for things that were beyond your control! Isn't it enough to know that you would've saved him if you could?"

"No…it's not." Malfoy slipped out of Harry's grasp and rose to his feet.

Harry followed, pain flaring in his chest. "I thought you said that he tortured you! Him and your father both! How can y—" Malfoy's fist slammed into Harry's jaw, sending him reeling back.

"Don't you dare bring that up to me!" Malfoy snarled. "You don't know anything about it!"

Spitting out blood, Harry charged and swung at Malfoy, his knuckles connecting with ribs. Malfoy doubled over into him. "I know you're not denying it!"

Malfoy shoved him back. "He was a double agent! What did you expect him to do when he was given a direct order? To blow his cover for my sake?"

Harry was about to charge again when something in his brain clicked. He straightened, blinking. "You knew?"

"Of course I bloody knew!"

The words felt like their own kind of blow. "For how long?"

"I knew the day Snape killed Dumbledore," Malfoy spat venomously. "Because that old man, arrogant and self-righteous as he was, would never have pleaded for his life. I saw the look in his eyes—he asked Snape to do it. You weren't there, you don't—"

"I was there!" Harry rebutted. "I saw the whole thing! Dumbledore stunned me and threw the invisibility cloak over me before you even got there!"

Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, shock staying his tongue. He looked stricken in the fading afternoon light, shadows pulling at the corners of his mouth and closing in on the edges of his frame. "Then you knew as long as I did!"

"I—" Harry broke off, a lump thickening in his throat. "No, I didn't know. All I knew then was that Dumbledore died, and Snape was the one responsible. I didn't know what he was until after he was gone."Malfoy's eyes flickered like a bright flame in the night, his face going pale with fury. "Until after it was too late, you mean."

"Does it make you feel better that I regret it?" Harry seethed. "I would give anything to be able to go back and do it all over again knowing what I know now!"

Malfoy's laugh was scathing. "If only there were a little magical trinket that allowed us to do that…oh wait."

"Don't joke about what happened to the Time Turners as if you don't care!" Harry yelled over him. "I know that I made a lot of mistakes and I know that you probably did too, but torturing ourselves over them isn't going to help anything!"

"Stop telling me what to do!"

And then Malfoy was hurtling towards him, the top of his skull slamming into Harry's sternum and knocking the air out of him. They tumbled to the ground, and hit it hard. Malfoy reeled back, and Harry felt another punch hit him across the cheek, knocking his glasses askew. Harry flailed, his hands finding Malfoy's robes and yanking hard. With a yell, Malfoy was pushed off balance. Harry kneed him in the side, sending him toppling to the the grass.

Blood filled Harry's mouth as he scrambled after the blonde, grabbing for his robes with his left and punching with his right. He could feel his pulse speeding up with each blow that was thrown. Harry remembered this—this feeling—remembered it like he remembered breathing. Feeling so angry that he just couldn't stand it anymore, and Malfoy always there, ready to help him let go of it the only way they knew how.

The side of Malfoy's boot connected with Harry's spine as Malfoy's weight shifted again, and suddenly they were rolling, a tangle of flying limbs across the lawn. Harry wound his fingers around Malfoy's collar and pinned him firmly to the ground, wincing as Malfoy's nails dug painfully into the skin of his wrists. Both of them froze, panting against each other.

"Are you quite done?" Harry asked.

Malfoy glared up at him. "Are you?"

"Yes," Harry replied simply. His fingers loosened their grip on Malfoy's shirt. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

Malfoy blinked, his cheeks now flushed with color. There was a bit of blood spilling over his bottom lip, and his left eye was already starting to swell. "Don't flatter yourself."

Harry stared at the droplet of blood on Malfoy's lip, watching as it slithered over the curve of pink skin and down the length of his chin, leaving a faint crimson trail in its wake.

"Potter?"

Malfoy's voice jarred him back.

Malfoy smiled, then winced. "You're a bit heavy."

"Oh." Harry let out an embarrassed huff and rolled off of the other boy. "Sorry."

With an oddly content sort of hum, Malfoy picked himself up to his feet. He turned slowly, and offered Harry his hand. "Come on. We don't want to miss the train."

Nodding, Harry took his hand.

Malfoy was quiet for most of the trip back, lounging on one of the chairs with his legs draped over the arm as he stared out the window up at the night sky. Harry watched him sit like that for a long while, so still he nearly looked petrified.

He hoped that Malfoy wasn't upset with him about what had happened outside the Shrieking Shack. He didn't seem to be, but Malfoy had a bad habit of being the hardest to read at the worst of times. Even now the expression on his face was as cold and blank as stone, the glimmer in his eyes the only evidence that he was feeling anything at all.

Harry cleared his throat and saw Malfoy flinch at the sound. "What is it, Potter?"

"I—well," Harry's lips twitched. "I'm sorry that this wasn't your best day ever."

Malfoy's head turned back towards him, and Harry found himself pinned to his chair by the force of his stare. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, something softening at the corners of his eyes. "This was…the best day I've had in a really long time." He turned back towards the window, as if that was all there was that could be said on the matter, leaving Harry gaping at him, a strangely light feeling bubbling in his chest.