Chapter 6: Blast from the Past

The monster of a blizzard finally stopped by early the next morning. The sun hadn't risen yet. Harry woke up, groaning, then realized it was quiet outside. He wished there was a way to tell for sure but his way would have to do the job. Making sure Malfoy was still asleep – Harry would prefer to avoid any criticisms of his intellect – he stepped into his inadequate Timberlands and undid Malfoy's defensive wards, then he apparated outside.

It was as cold as the seventh hell but the skies were clear and beginning to lighten into a soft blue-gray. Malfoy's cottage and SUV were half buried in snow. The cottage itself wasn't a problem, but the car and driveway were a different matter. It would take some time to clear the snow, and the road itself seemed to already have been cleared by a plow truck which meant the storm might have cleared hours ago while they slept. They needed to move now.

Harry swore loudly, hoping Lestrange didn't have a head start on them. Needing to put the wards back up before Malfoy woke up and had a fit, Harry apparated back inside to find Malfoy stood in front of his bedroom, his sleepy gaze searching for Harry. Realization of what Harry had done dawned on his face and he scowled. But in his silk-white pajamas, bed hair and puffy face, the expression turned out to be more adorable than Harry cared to admit.

"Before you nag at me, I was pretty sure it was clear outside."

"You were pretty sure?"

"Err, yeah. I didn't hear the wind."

"You didn't hear the wind? Potter, last night you were wondering if You-Know-Who took with him half of your wits to the otherworld. Let me assure you he couldn't have. You'd be a drooling vegetable right now because half is all you ever had."

Leave it to Malfoy to take Harry's suffering and turn it into dark humor – the git had always been good at that. But this time Harry found it hilarious rather than offensive. He laughed.

At first, Malfoy looked at Harry as if he'd gone mad but then shot him a well-missed Malfoy Brand smirk.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Right then. Get dressed and get your things, you're driving us out of here."

Harry dressed in his own dried clothes but when he stepped out of the bathroom, Malfoy was there, wearing a knee-length white parka with a fur-lined hood, a black turtleneck. His black bangs peaked from under a black knitted cap, making the light-gray color of his eyes pop out rather enticingly. He was holding a thick, camo winter coat and glaring at Harry's attire.

"No. Not good enough." Shoving the coat into Harry's arms, he turned back and went into his room to fiddle in his closet until he withdrew a pair of thick, dark waterproof hiking pants and boots, as well as a olive green turtleneck and fleece sweater.

"Put those on," ordered Malfoy. "Oh and find something to cover your head as well. Top left drawer," he nodded over to the dresser in front of the bed.

"Never took you for the mother-hen type."

"If by mother-hen you mean making sure my only protector against a deranged killer doesn't die of pneumonia or get frostbite then...surprise!"

Malfoy wasn't taking much with him, claiming he would have his mother's house elves retrieve the furniture if Lestrange didn't burn it all down. By the time the stepped out, the sun was over the horizon. Harry removed the snow from around the car magically, and Malfoy dumped his two luggage cases in the car trunk. Afterward, they cleared a path from the driveway to the road; Harry with his wand and Malfoy with a shovel from the small shed on the side of his cottage. But Malfoy assured him his four-wheel drive had about nine inches of ground clearance – whatever that meant – so it could handle snow covered areas.

When they got into the Subaru Harry noticed Malfoy was meticulous with the steps, like a teenager in front of his driving instructor. He put his seat belt on, checked his mirrors (Harry watched on with amusement), then turned the key and the vehicle rumbled to life. And then they waited.

Harry looked at Malfoy with an eyebrow raised to which Malfoy responded, "It's got to warm up. Don't give me that silly look."

"This is weird...really weird," said Harry.

"Well get used to it. I may be a pureblood and sickeningly rich but I'm not incompetent."

"Uh huh."

"Shut up, Potter."

"No, seriously. I'm impressed."

Malfoy huffed but couldn't hide how pleased he was with himself with his pink nose pointed up. He backed up the car, turned and headed off the road. Malfoy drove slow and carefully, but the ride was still a little rocky.

"Do you have your cellphone with you."

Malfoy nodded and dug into his coat pocket to retrieve it before handing it to Harry, who flipped it open. It had one bar that kept on flickering off. Worse, it only had one number saved to it. Harry tried calling it anyway.

"Good luck with that," said Malfoy. "Mother needs to go outside of the Manor to make or receive a call. She's not synced Muggle technology with magic the way I have."

"You'll have to tell me how you did that. It's going to change the magical world completely."

Malfoy shrugged, though he couldn't hide his pleased glow.

"And why don't you have an owl?"

"You're asking me that now?" Draco shot him a brief glance. "Notwithstanding my lack of windows, I simply don't want to care about anyone but myself. It's all I was ever good for anyway," he added the last bit morosely.

With a sigh, Harry rubbed the building pressure between his eyes. "Where are we going," he asked.

"I don't know," answered Malfoy. "But I do know that it's the opposite direction of Lestrange."

Harry groaned. "Maybe I should have tried to make a portkey? How hard could it be?"

"Very hard. Could you cast a Patronus on your first try? And it's also very illegal without the proper authorization. Switzerland is much more strict about it than the Ministry back home."

Harry swore.

"Will you stop growling and swearing?"

"I'm not growling."

"Well, whatever you're doing it's getting on my nerves."

"You know what gets on my nerves? Lack of Floo, owls, and bloody satellite reception. A possibly intercepted Patronus. Being incommunicado. You driving."

"Stop being melodramatic – that's my role. I don't think a Patronus can be intercepted and there's nothing wrong with my driv-"

Suddenly the car was blasted from the side by a magical force. Malfoy lost control of the vehicle. It veered with a great screech off the barely seen road and slid down the icy slope, rolling a few times until it hit a large fig tree with a great downpour of snow from its branches. Throughout it all, Harry had barely registered that they had been attacked before it all went dark.

He didn't know how long he was out for. Groaning, he stirred, aching all over, dizzy and disoriented. He looked around and noticed he was held by his seat-belt from falling into the snow-covered glass shards from what was left of his window. The car had flipped on its side. Malfoy, also held by his seat-belt, was slumped to the side. The airbags had saved them from certain death but Malfoy had probably hit his window because his forehead to the right was bleeding through his beanie, and he was still unconscious.

"F-uck...Draco..." Harry tried shaking him and he stirred a little, brow creasing and letting out a weak moan, but he didn't wake up. "Shit."

Harry cast a levitation spell on himself before unbuckling his belt. He rightened himself with care so that he was standing on snowy turf through what was left of his passenger window and peered at Draco sideways. He grabbed the unconscious man under the arms, cast another levitation spell on him and carefully maneuvered him through the broken window above them and unto the snow beside the car. Then Harry climbed out and went to kneel next to Draco, taking him into his arms.

He tapped Draco's bloody cheek and tried calling out to him. Draco moaned and hissed, a frown forming between his brows and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Harry sighed in relief.

Even as he thanked Merlin, someone shouted, "EXPELLIARMUS!" quickly succeeded by "Accio wands!" had disarmed them both in a few seconds. Just like that. Harry cursed himself for dropping guard and letting his worry for Draco supersede the need to clear the area and identify their attacker.

Harry glared up at Lestrange, tall, pale, his dark eyes fixed on Draco. Harry's grip tightening around him, even as Draco tried with trembling effort to sit up. Harry helped him up but didn't remove his arms from around him, keeping a fixed eye on Lestrange. He didn't understand why the man hadn't made a move against them yet.

Is he toying with us, Harry thought.

Draco gasped and backed up but didn't go far with Harry holding him. When, without a word, Lestrange made his way over to them, Harry stood up, ignoring the sudden dizziness from his brusque movement, and put himself in front of Draco. At this, Lestrange broke his stony expression with a smirk, a slight quirk on the corner of his lips as he switched his cold gaze from Draco to Harry.

"Bewitched, Potter? He seems cowardly at first but he's got mettle if you dig deep. All he needs is a little push." he paused to smile cruelly.

Behind him, Draco was scrambling, with some difficulty to stand. He swayed a little and gripped Harry by the shoulder to steady himself. "Rodolphus..." he whispered shakily.

"Nephew. So good to see you well. It wouldn't do to die now when we've only just reunited. There's so much to talk about."

"Funny," answered Harry. "You never seemed like the talkative type."

Lestrange shrugged. "Not unless something needs to be said. And I think my wayward nephew is long due a reprimand."

"No," whispered Draco weakly, his hand on Harry shaking.

Lestrange pointed his wand at the same time as Draco's arms came around Harry's waist. The last thing Harry saw was a red streak shoot out from Lestrange's wand before he was apparated. The two men appeared somewhere dark and they stumbled over the snowy rocks. Harry broke free from Draco's grip. The man looked terrified, shivering hands running through his blood-crusted hair. They were in a cave.

"What was that?"

"Hm?" Draco blinked, looking confused, trying to steady his breathing.

"Where are we?"

" ...ha...I just...I thought of being in this place...I suddenly wanted to hide in it so badly," he stopped to swallow and catch his breath, then continued, "I pick...asphodel nearby. T-there's a healing spring further in."

"You apparated us wandlessly," Harry said in a slightly disbelieving voice. He had underestimated Draco's abilities, always believing he had nothing going for him except money. But now that they were no longer at each other's throats, Harry was beginning to see how capable Draco really was.

"Hm?" Draco gasped through his heavy breathing. He still looked confused and Harry worried that the damage to his head might be worse than he thought.

Harry cupped his face and lifted the beanie to inspect the head wound. "You did well. We're safe for now. Just concentrate on breathing."

Draco nodded. His eyes wandered and seemed dilated. Harry helped him sit on a boulder nearby and waved three fingers in front. "How many fingers am I holding?"

"...f..th..four."

"Damn it," Harry muttered. He turned, inspecting their surroundings. Streaks of sunlight streamed dimly through cracks in the cave's roof from which vines and roots dangled. There was a passageway to the left in front of them if Harry were facing the same way as Draco, and another one right behind them.

Turning back to Draco, who seemed to slowly crawl out of his shock, he asked, "Which way is out?"

"Hm?"

Harry pointed at the two passageways. "Which one of these leads outside?"

Draco turned and pointed at the passageway behind them. "The other one leads to the healing spring...ow..." He slumped, cradling his head.

"We should drink some. Can you walk?"

"I think so but help me up."

Harry bent over and wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, who swayed a little. "Is it too far in?"

Eyes closed, frowning in pain and dizziness, Draco licked his dry lips and said, "No. It's not a big cave. Just go straight."

Harry lead them towards the direction of the spring. The passageway was dark and Harry had to tread carefully, making him wish he had his wand. Draco tripped twice.

"I should start carrying muggle matches," pondered Harry out loud. Always good to have a backup plan. Much to his surprise, Draco muttered, "I have a lighter...left back pocket."

Harry fumbled in the dark for Draco's left coat pocket while trying to keep the man upright with his other arm, almost taking him in an embrace. Draco cleared his throat and said, "Trouser pocket."

Harry was glad they were in the dark; he was sure his ears were bright red. He undid the bottom-most buttons of Draco's coat and slid his hand inside it, searching his hip until he dipped his hand into the left back pocket. Draco's trousers were a little on the tight side. Harry's palm almost cupped his buttock. The minute he felt something small and cold, he withdrew his hand as if burned.

"Thought you were pyro-phobic."

"I also live in the middle of the Alpine wilderness and don't want to die. I never used it until the other day when I had to keep you warm."

The thought of Malfoy ignoring is fear just to keep Harry alive did things to Harry's heart he wasn't prepared to acknowledge. Lighting it, some of the rocky surroundings came into view. The tunnel was narrow and it grew narrower the further they walked, but soon enough, they saw a gentle green glow. Harry stopped as terrible memories resurfaced of him and Dumbledore in Voldemort's cave.

"Shit," he whispered.

"Alright there?"

"Yeah...are your certain it's a healing spring?"

Malfoy groaned in pain. "My head...Potter, I am certain. Will you keep going? What else do you think it might be?"

Harry opened his mouth but then thought better of it. He didn't want to talk about that, not now. It was long ago and to speak would summon those wretched feelings. Three-foot world, he told himself.

He walked further until they came out into the chamber with the spring. It glowed bluish-green, not at all like the potion he had to force Dumbledore to drink in the cave all those years ago. The spring was still, clear, pure. Merely looking at it seemed to rejuvenate him.

Harry helped Malfoy to the edge and to drink from it. Malfoy threw his head back, eyes closed, and moaned in pleasure. His milk-white, elfin-sharp features having a sensually ethereal appearance in the soft glow. Harry swallowed hard and looked away. He closed his own eyes and mentally tried to banish the feelings crawling up in his gut and straying, much to his horror, further south. Thoughts of the nasty pranks and insults Draco had subjected Harry and his friends to when they were younger did not help at all, but, astonishingly, seemed to fuel Harry's growing lust.

I am so fucked up. Harry told himself.

He thought, then, of Draco's story of what Lestrange and Greyback had done, and that, thankfully, did turn him off. But it roused his rage, waking up that dark avenger that seemed to have possessed him since the war.

Clearing his throat louder than he needed to - as if to shake the sensations off - he leaned over, cupped his hands and drank. Indeed it was wonderful. As soon as the clear liquid slid down his throat, it was as if a gentle wave encased him and took away all his ailments with it as it ebbed away. He felt refreshed, his body temperature regulated, his aches vanished and his mind was suddenly clear. Amazing energy coursed through him and he felt like he could take on the world.

"Damn, this stuff is bloody brilliant!"

Draco laughed that clear chiming laugh. Harry looked at him with his gentle grin, soft gray eyes, pale face reflecting the delicate ripples Harry had made in the pool. Even with his dyed black hair peaking under his beanie and blood trails on the side of his face, he was beautiful.

Draco noticed that Harry's stare was a strange one and he cocked his head to the side. "What is it," he asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing, Potter..."

"It's 'nothing, Potter?'...are you speaking to yourself?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I meant it's nothing, Malfoy."

Draco looked at him funny. Harry ignored, and instead asked, "You wouldn't happen to have one of those bottles of draught, would you?"

Draco checked his pockets. Indeed, he took out one flask filled with calming draught and frowned.

"You won't need that."

"I beg to differ."

"This stuff works a thousand times better, anyway."

Draco stared him down in defiance but Harry kept his gaze until Draco finally broke and looked away. He gave Harry the flask and Harry dumped the contents in it and filled it with the spring water.

"There. That should do it. Now let's get out of here."

"And go where? We're wandless, my car is wrecked and the nearest town is like...ninety kilometers away."

"Then we need to get my wand back."

"Are you mad? I'm not facing that demon unarmed!"

"Malfoy, we won't survive out in the wild in these temperatures without at least a wand. And all your hiking gear was left in the car."

"The car is more than half a day's walk! And what if Rodolphus is waiting for us there?"

"I can cast Accio wandlessly. How about you? You just apparated us without one. Is there anything else?"

"I don't know. And Rodolphus isn't my idea of a testing dummy. I can make a makeshift wand, like the one I had, but you bore witness to how terribly those things work. It could backfire...wait," He smacked his own forehead "Oh, Merlin's balls. I'm so stupid!"

"What?"

Draco suddenly opened his coat as if an acidic Bundimun had spat on it. Harry thought he was going to take it off but instead, Draco reached behind him and pulled out a gun from his waistband.

Harry goggled speechlessly even as Draco himself blinked - as if he only just realized he had left out a crucial element in all of this.

"Well," said Harry in awe, "That'll do it." He reached out to the weapon and Draco handed it over.

"So you don't have any scruples with shooting a muggle projectile into Rodulphus Lestrange? Even if it kills him?"

"No, Draco. I have no problem putting a bullet right through his fucking skull. It's as good as Avada Kedavra."

Draco spared him only a brief worried glance before looking down at the gun in Harry's hand as if contemplating something.