I set fire to the rain

Watched it pour as I touched your face

And it burned while I cried

'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name

I set fire to the rain

And I threw us into the flames

And it felt something die

'Cause I knew that was the last time, the last time

-Adele

Harry awoke the next morning, cold and wet, with the hard roughness of stone beneath him. Blinking groggily, he sat up, staring at his surroundings with a blank sort of detachment. He hadn't been surprised when Ginny had brought him back to Malfoy Manor, and even less so when she had thrown him in one of the dungeon cells. She'd left him there and hadn't come back since. That had been…two days ago? Three? He couldn't be sure. Time had started running together—minutes, hours, and days melding into a senseless span. Distantly he knew that he should be trying to escape. He knew he should be trying to come up with a plan to get out of here, but his focus was lost. Every thought he had always circled back to the same thing. Draco had betrayed him…he'd stolen the Elder Wand…and he'd…

Harry curled his knees into his chest and pressed his face into his jeans, determined not to go down that road again. There was no point in reminding himself how stupid he'd been. How blind. He almost believed that he deserved to be here—down in this dark place without a shred of hope left to cling to. No one was coming for him. Ron and Hermione were under the Imperius spell, and Harry imagined that the rest of the Weasley family had suffered the same fate. Everyone else—Neville, Luna, Hagrid, McGonagall—they would never notice in time. He could die tonight and no one would have a clue for weeks.

He was completely and utterly alone.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke him from his reverie. Harry looked up to see Draco rounding the corner, holding a tray of bread and cheese. He walked towards the iron bars slowly, his steps heavy and scraping against the stone. When Draco's eyes found his own, both of them froze; it was the first time they'd seen each other since Grimmuald Place.

Harry felt his entire body react—every nerve in his system firing at once and short circuiting into a painful stiffness. He had so many questions…so many things that he wanted—that he needed—to know. But at the same time he wasn't sure he could ask them. He wasn't sure that he was strong enough to hear the truth.

"Potter?"

His unfamiliar address was like a knife in Harry's stomach.

"I've brought you something to eat," Draco set the tray down, sliding it through the small slot at the base of the bars. The sound of metal grinding against stone echoed off the walls like crackling thunder.

Harry remained silent and still. He couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Potter, I know you're not asleep. I know you can hear me." Draco wrapped his thin, white fingers around the bars and leaned his head against them. "Come on. Come and have something to eat. You haven't eaten in days, and from what I hear, starvation is a rather unpleasant way to die."

The responding silence was stark and definite.

"Harry?"

Harry's heart cracked like glass. His name sounded so different when they weren't in the warm comfort of his bed, the sun shining through the window and making Draco's eyes sparkle like silver. "Don't call me that," he hissed in an acidic voice. "Just go away."

"Look, I know you're mad at me right now, but you have to understand that I had to—"

"Mad at you?" Harry snapped, his anger tearing through him like an infectious fire. "Are you out of your bloody mind?"

Even in the dark, Harry could see Draco's flinch. And like a stupid fool, he felt a sudden swell of guilt. Why? Why, even now, did he care? But it was a stupid question. He knew why…and that only made it hurt more.

Draco turned, pressing his back against the bars and buried his face in his hands, and unable to pull his gaze away, Harry watched the curve of his spine bow, muscles straining against skin and cloth. The dim flickering candlelight muted the harsh edges of shadow in such a way that every line looked fractured, and Draco himself looked as if he might disappear at any moment. "I never wanted this," his voice was the ghost of a whisper.

"Never wanted what?" Harry asked scathingly. "You're going to have to be more specific."

The sigh that Draco released sounded brittle. "I never wanted any of it. That day I came to you on the train…that should never have happened."

Harry merely snorted, refusing to be distracted by the sharp pangs in his heart. He wished he could separate himself from his body so that he wouldn't have to feel this pain anymore. He wished that he didn't look at Draco and still want to feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around him. Hurt and anger were burrowing deeper and deeper inside him with each passing moment, feeding off one another like leeches.

"She's not crazy you know," Draco said softly. "She is who she says—she is Tom Riddle now."

Harry's brow furrowed. "She's not—"

"She is," Draco hissed assertively. "She is the only reason my father lived as long as he did."

Harry scoffed, and lowered his head down into his arms once more. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sit here and have this fight with Draco while he still didn't understand. Harry shifted, his spine digging into stone, and felt something hard press into his outer thigh. Curious, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the keychain Luna had given him at his birthday. He didn't remember putting it there, but for some reason he was glad that he had. It was his last tie to the outside world—a world that seemed so far away now. Harry ran his thumb along the slick wood before stuffing the keychain back into its previous holding.

After that the two boys sat in silence for a long while, and the stillness of the air crept along Harry's skin like thousands of spiders. Questions formed on his tongue over and over again, but his jaw refused to unclench itself. It was as if he felt that he could avoid the truth if only Draco could avoid speaking it.

"I thought I could…" Draco trailed off in a choked whisper. "I thought I could save him. I had to try, Harry. I couldn't just…" Something in Draco's voice made Harry look up again, like some fracture in Draco's soul couldn't help but escape in his words. In all the commotion Harry had actually almost forgotten…Draco had just lost his father. Lucius Malfoy was dead.

"Is that what it was supposed to be?" Harry asked. "His life in exchange for..what? The Elder Wand?"

"Not in exchange for the wand, no."

A cold shiver skittered over Harry's nerves. "Then what?"

Draco turned his head, dim candlelight making his profile stark and black as pitch. "All she's ever wanted is you."

There was a beat of silence. "What?"

"Oh, Draco!" A singsong voice rang down the corridor, causing Harry to flinch. He heard the soft pattering of footsteps growing nearer, and he pulled his knees tighter into his chest. Ginny rounded the corner and cold flooded into the room like a winter wind, searing him skin and bones.

"I thought I'd find you down here," Ginny said, grinning like a cheshire cat. "Come to torture our guest prematurely, have you?"

Draco looked up at her and didn't answer.

Harry cringed as he heard the gate to his cell squeal open. He could feel her every step towards him like a stabbing drum in his head.

She stopped not two feet in front of him. "Aren't you going to say hi to me, Harry?"

Harry ground his teeth together.

"Harry, say hello."

He had known it was coming. Fighting the burst of pain in his chest, Harry bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood, but it was no use. The power of the vow was too strong. Magic bubbled in his stomach and spread up into his ribcage, radiating out into his limbs until his entire body was writhing. With a gasp, Harry muttered a begrudging, "Hello."

"Good boy. Now look at me."

Harry did, and somehow he was surprised to find Ginny's freckled face staring back down at him. He couldn't reconcile seeing her while at the same time feeling such a powerful dark magic cloister around him. For some reason it made him all the more angry. It made him want to shove his fist in her mouth and rip out her tongue so that Tom could never use it to speak words that didn't belong to her. His fingers itched for the movement, but then he remembered what had happened when Ginny was cut—how Draco had been cut too—and he sat back on his heels, defeated.

Ginny looked at him curiously, her head tilted and her mouth pressed in a thin line. "You seem different. I remember you being…different."

"I remember you being male," Harry responded half-heartedly.

Head snapping around, Ginny glared back at Draco. "What did you say to him?"

Draco lifted himself off the ground, swaying slightly. He stepped into the cell, his eyes carefully avoiding Harry's. "I didn't say anything to him. You told me not to."

"Then why is he being like this?" Ginny pointed an accusing finger down at Harry.

Still, Draco didn't look at him. "Like what?"

"Don't play coy with me, Draco. This boy here isn't the same boy I watched defeat a basilisk. There's no fire in him! How am I supposed to take his life when he's not showing me a life worth taking?"

Silence filled the cold room, and Harry felt himself sink into it. She wanted to…kill him?

Ginny turned back to Harry. "What has he told you?"

Harry merely stared up at her, gazing up into dark eyes that were once so blue.

"Answer me," she snarled, grabbing his chin between her thumb and forefinger and jerking his head up.

"He told me that he never wanted any of this to happen," Harry ground out between clenched teeth as magic forced the words to form. "And he told me that you didn't do this for the Elder Wand."

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she leaned in even closer. Harry could smell the sharp tang of blood on her breath. "Draco, pet," she called, "come stand by me."

Draco's boots clacked against the stone as he slowly made his way into the cell to stand by Ginny. Her grip on Harry's chin wouldn't allow him to see where Draco stood, but he could feel his presence like a sharp thorn in his side.

"Look at him." Ginny's whispering voice was like an unpleasant shiver. She forced Harry's face to move so he was looking directly at Draco. He was standing very straight, his arms wrapped tight around his torso and his grey eyes fixed firmly on the ground. But Harry was glad that Draco wasn't looking at him—he didn't know if he could bear those eyes on him now. "Do you love him? Answer me honestly now."

Harry barely suppressed the growl that rumbled in his throat. "Of course I do."

Draco pressed his eyes shut and Harry could see the muscles in his arms go tense.

"And do you believe him when he says he never wanted any of this to happen? Do you think he wishes you'd remained enemies?"

"No." Harry blinked, surprised by his answer.

A small flicker of amusement ghosted across Ginny's eyes. "Why not? Why don't you believe him?"

"Because he loves me." Harry let out a sharp breath as a tremble took hold and shook him. The cell hung in a suspended moment of astonishment.

"He really doesn't understand," Ginny whispered, and Harry couldn't quite tell who she was talking to. She turned back to Draco once more. "That's why he's not fighting me—he still thinks he should be protecting you."

Draco held himself painfully still.

Ginny pulled Harry's gaze back to her own. "Oh Harry," she cooed. "This is all so much better than I could've hoped. How can I help you understand?" She paused thoughtfully, shadows burrowing deep into the crevices of her face. "Aren't you curious about everything he's done? Don't you want me to tell you?"

"No," Harry replied tersely. "I really don't."

"Come now, Harry, you're just being stubborn. Draco," she twisted to look back up at the Slytherin, "tell Harry that he's being stubborn."

Draco looked at him, his features suddenly trained into a glacial mask. "You're being stubborn Potter," he said softly, without feeling.

Ginny grinned widely. "There now, you see? And I did promise to tell you a story." She released him and rose to her feet, her eyes gleaming manically. "Get up, Harry. I want to make sure you're paying attention."

Harry rose to his feet, not bothering to hide the fact that his legs shook in protest. Draco hadn't been wrong in hearing that he'd hardly eaten anything since he'd gotten here. The muscles in his back ached and his bones creaked as he moved, but he somehow managed to get himself upright. He leaned back against the wall and kept his gaze trained on his feet, determined not to look at Draco.

"Draco," Ginny tittered, "tie him up."

Harry looked up, frowning. Draco regarded Ginny for a long moment, and then turned to Harry with a question in his eyes that he dared not speak aloud. Slowly, Draco lowered his hand to his wand pocket.

"No, not that way." With surprising deftness, Ginny retrieved the Elder Wand from her robes and with a simple flick, a pair of manacles appeared just above Harry's head. "There. You won't need your wand now." Her grin turned feral as the two boys eyed each other.

Draco swayed slightly as he stood, knowing he had to move but somehow unable to make the first step. A deep ragged sigh escaped him then, and when he moved towards Harry the tension between them tightened with a tangible ferocity. Draco stopped just before him, close enough that Harry would brush his robes if he moved. Time seemed to slow as Draco reached down and took one of Harry's wrists in his hands. His fingers were soft and warm, and Harry's blood went hot beneath his skin as his heart quickened. There was nothing harsh or demanding in the touch, but there was nothing familiar in it either. It felt markedly different than the time Draco had leaned in to fix his tie, or straighten his collar. With medical precision, Draco maneuvered Harry's hand above his head. Harry felt the cold metal slide against his wrist, its rough rusted texture so different from the fingers that gripped him. A sharp click echoed through the room as the binding locked around his wrist.

Draco moved to grab Harry's second hand, but this time Harry held it firm. His hand squeezed tightly around Draco's as their eyes locked.

"Draco," he whispered, so softly he wasn't sure if he had actually said anything at all.

"Don't, Harry," Draco hissed, as all the vigor in his grey eyes shattered into ruin. He forced Harry's hand up and quickly locked it in the manacle, before retreating back to Ginny's side.

Deja Vu hit him like a tidal wave, sweeping him up in its current. Twice now he'd seen Draco stand at Ginny's side—twice he'd felt the cold stab of betrayal. But something about it felt different this time; more definitive. Harry realized, with a vague notion of dread, that Draco could have saved him. There must have been plenty of opportunities, and yet Harry was still in this cell, bound in chains and prone. Chains…that been locked by Draco.

For the first time, Harry felt seeds of doubt take root.

But no, it couldn't be that simple. In spite of everything, the relationship that he and Draco had built was real. It had to be…

Suddenly the manacles jerked up, and Harry yelped in pain as his arms were pulled taut. He blinked through his spotted vision to see Ginny sneering at him.

"Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention," she said, moving toward him like a feral creature stalking its prey. "Ah, yes, there it is," she pressed the tip of her wand into his throat. "There's that fire."

Harry sneered. "Glad I'm making this more enjoyable for you."

"Believe me, we're just getting started."

"Do you always play with your food before you kill it, or am I just a lucky exception?"

Ginny snarled unattractively and pressed the wand harder into his neck. "I would think twice before speaking to me that way again.""

"Or what?" Harry managed a defiant grin. "You'll kill me?"

"Crucio!"

Pain exploded in Harry's body, ripping him clean through. Teeth like needles tore at his skin, while knives of ice were plunged into his stomach again and again and again. His ears erupted with the sounds of his own screams, and he tasted blood as he tried to bite back the sound. Every part of his body was alive with agony—every nerve in his body exploding with a white hot pain that scorched through him, leaving nothing untouched.

"Finite Incantatum."

Harry's body sagged and shuddered as he felt the curse leave him. Cool air filled his lungs once more, and it felt fresh as water on an open wound.

Ginny's laugh sounded muted to his still ringing ears. "I think you'll find that I know punishments much worse than death."

Harry coughed and blood poured, hot and wet, over his lips. He lapped it up with his tongue, smiling wryly. "And I'll bet most of them involve enduring your company."

Ginny's face contorted with rage. Wide eyed and red cheeked, she whirled on Draco. "Curse him!"

Harry's humor fell away into the following silence.

Draco stared blankly at Ginny, his mouth opening and closing several times before he finally spoke. "You—I don't understand."

"Curse him," Ginny said with a curdling sneer. "Go on! I know there's a spell you've wanted to use on him. Show him what it was like to endure what you endured! Now, do as I command!"

"He won't," the words spilled over Harry's lips before he could stop them. Ginny and Draco both turned to look at him, and Harry couldn't help but shrink back slightly.

"You still don't understand anything do you," Ginny's voice shook with her rage. "He belongs to me!"

Harry shook his head weakly. "He doesn't. He—" but he was cut off by the sound of rustling fabric. By the time he moved his gaze back to Draco, his wand was already drawn. Harry felt his stomach drop in terror. "Draco, you don't have to do this," he whispered fervently. "You're not like your father. Please, you don't have to do this."

But there was nothing left in Draco to plead with anymore. All his hesitation was gone—he stood cold and stiff, like a carving of ice, somehow both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The grey eyes that looked at him now. were dead. "I do have to, Potter. My master commands it." He raised his wand to Harry's chest. "Sectumsempra!"

Blades, sharp and unforgiving, tore at him, shredding through his skin like paper. He felt a sudden hot rush bloom through his body as blood spilled over split flesh. If the manacles had not been holding him up, he would've fallen to his knees. The spell cut through him slowly, making sure that he felt as each layer of skin, tissue, and muscle was sliced clean through. He couldn't hold back the scream that tore through his throat—it came from somewhere deeper than the pain from the curse that ripped him apart now. It was the fact that he could feel Draco in it—he could feel Draco's magic curling around his heart and encasing it in the purest form of agony. Harry could feel his anger, and his hate, and his malice, and it all came out in a scream.

And then it all stopped, and the world rushed back in a black whirl. Everything around him seemed fogged now, and even as he blinked his vision wouldn't focus.

Ginny was standing close again—he could tell from the rancid smell that filled his nose. She was clucking her tongue disdainfully, her anger apparently dissipated. "You think I'd waste my time on someone who'd betray me for the likes of you? He's been loyal to me for years, Harry. Years. Every moment I've had at my disposal has been spent planning for this moment. And this wand," she twirled the Elder Wand idly between her fingers, "was all I needed to ensure my victory."

She ran the tip of the wand along his cheek, dragging a stripe of wet blood across his skin. "You and your friends were so proud of how you'd protected it too. Especially that worthless little mudblood. I knew many things thanks to Ginny—that the wand did in fact exist, that it obeyed you, and that you had hidden it somewhere—but, Hermione…she's what made the game really fun. Not only did she set up wards on the wand itself, but she made its location uncharitable. She made it so that none of you could disclose where it was hidden to anyone who didn't already know where it was—not even after drinking Veritaserum…not even under the Imperius Curse." Her eyes flickered strangely in the dim light. "To make matters even more interesting, the wand could be taken from its hiding spot only if it was truly needed, but finally, to top it all off," Ginny looked at Draco then, and smiled a smile that made Harry's blood run cold, "it could only be taken with your permission, Harry—and only by someone you trusted."

Ginny sauntered over to the blonde, raising her arm and draping it around his shoulders. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck, nuzzling the pale skin with her nose while Draco stood stiff. "How perfect then it was—how poetic—that Draco should do it rather than me." The room around him seemed to list in misted fog of broken reality. "He wanted to save his father so badly, but really, there was so much more to it than that. I think that he wanted to do it. After all the things you did to him over the years he was almost as hungry for revenge as I was. He was a wonderful actor wasn't he?" Ginny pressed a wet kiss into Draco's throat, and Harry felt a wave of bile surge up his throat. "We exchanged owls for months, coming up with a plan." With a secretive smile, she lifted her head. "Remember when Lucius found them?" she asked Draco. "He really did almost kill you after that."

The sound of her laughter rang through the cell.

The memory of Harry's dream slammed into his mind like a train—Lucius holding bunched parchment in his fist, screaming Draco's name. Harry had assumed those had been his letters. He'd assumed…

After her laughter died, Ginny continued, "We decided that he would go to you on the train back from Hogwarts, and re-offer what you had denied him so long ago. I knew you would accept him eventually, being the incorrigible little Gryffindor that you are. And while he drew you in, I remained in the background, securing my hold over your friends. The tough part was making sure you trusted Draco. I had to isolate you—make sure that you didn't have another choice. Believe me, orchestrating all those fights between you and Ron was no small feat."

Harry shook his head as the room spun around him. Vaguely he noticed a crimson pool widening around his feet. He could see the melded form of Ginny and Draco's shadows reflected in it. "Trust," he croaked, "doesn't require love. The curse…" he trailed off as blood coated his tongue.

"I needed a reason for you to need the wand." Ginny grinned, her white teeth gleaming like fangs. "Plus, it was fun, watching you fall for him. It was a powerful thing, was it not?"

"But…how did you know I would touch the gate?"

Ginny's cold, high-pitched laugh broke him off. It echoed and bounced off the walls like a ringing bell. She peeled herself from Draco's side and walked over to Harry. Her hands cupped his cheeks and Harry's whole body seized in reaction to the touch. Then her head dipped forward and her lips brushed ever so lightly against his own. When she pulled back, her mouth was red with blood. "Oh, Harry…you didn't get that curse from the gate."

Harry felt his breath hitch. The spell has been rumored to be able to be cast through acts of intimacy. "You…when you kissed me that night at the Burrow…"

Ginny nodded, licking the blood off her lips as she lowered her hands back down to her sides.

Harry looked over at Draco, as a indiscernible feeling flew, wild and hot, through his veins. "Draco…did you know? Tell me you didn't know."

A hard moment of silence hung between them. "Of course I knew, Potter," he said finally, resentment etched in his voice.

For the first time, Harry felt an unbridled fury rise within him. It tore through the fibers of his body like a wildfire, bursting and uncontainable. He jerked against his restraints. "Why?" His scream tore through his throat. "You really knew everything—everything—the whole time?"

"I did it to save my father!" Draco screamed back, his anger finally taking over his control.

"Well guess what? He's dead! You didn't save him! He's DEAD! So why are you still helping her?"

For some reason, in that one moment, Harry's vision sharpened. He could see the heady red flush that blotched Draco's cheeks, and the muscles in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth. He could see the sudden glisten of tears that misted his grey eyes, making the irises look like molten silver caught in the sun. He could see the way Draco's whole body seemed to curl in on itself, repulsed and broken, and the way his knees shook ever so slightly as if they were about to give way at any moment.

Harry saw all of this, and didn't care. His head felt light and dizzy from the blood loss, but his heart felt like it was about to pound its way straight through his chest. There truly was nothing left for him now. Everything had been destroyed. No, not destroyed—it had never even existed in the first place.

Ginny glanced between the two, her face alight with an amused malice. She gave a soft hum of contentment, and raised a finger to trace the curve of Harry's cheek. "There it is…that's what I wanted to see." When she stepped back, Harry felt every ounce of heat leave him. "Draco, get him cleaned up and bring him upstairs." Ginny turned and swept back to the cell gate, turning around the corner and yelling back, "I can't have him die before I decide to kill him."