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Inter Vivos	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42948 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this writing.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter
Thirteen�Weariness

�� Severus�s
best ladle shattered against the rim of the cauldron when his left arm began to
burn.

�� For long
moments, Severus didn�t let himself react. He stood there, breathing harshly,
staring at the ladle and considering the cost of another. Then he pulled up his
sleeve and looked down at his Dark Mark.

�� It glared
up at him, so ugly that Severus wanted to flinch. He didn�t, but only because
he had been dreaming for the last few nights about what he would do if the Dark
Lord returned and summoned him to his side. In his dreams, the Mark had been
even uglier.

�� He had
decided he would never spy again not long ago. Dumbledore had had enough of
him, and his guilt was expiated. There was no cause in the world strong enough
to move him from that position.

�� But now the
paucity of that position was exposed to him. There was a cause in the world
strong enough to move him to do anything: Lily. And his original guilt had not
been expiated yet because the Dark Lord was not dead, and never would be until
he had been destroyed in spirit, as well as in body. If he had regained enough
strength to summon his followers, then he was coming back again.

�� The war was
not over. Lily still burned in his mind like a fiery ghost, unavenged.

�� And what will Potter do now?

�� He would
need training that Severus had neglected to provide him, because Potter seemed
so reluctant to learn anything from him and because Severus had believed that
he would not need those skills any time soon. He would need secrets of the Dark
Lord�s strength that no one else was able to give him, because everyone else
would, of necessity, have to do their spying from a distance.

�� The war is not over.

�� With a
shudder that spanned the whole length of his body and then left his face
untroubled a moment later, Severus turned to fetch the robes and mask that
still hung in the farthest corner of his cupboards.

*

�� For long
moments, Draco could contend with nothing more than his father�s letter and the
feeling settling over him, like snow on stone, that he would never see Harry
again.

�� But then he
had something else to think about, because someone was beating him about the
head with hard fists.

�� Where is
Harry?� Weasley snarled directly into his face, and then slammed a punch into
Draco�s gut, spilling him to the ground and stealing his breath. Not the best way to get me to answer, Draco
thought dazedly, and reflected that perhaps it was for the best that he
couldn�t talk at the moment. �I know you did something to him. What was it,
Malfoy? Answer me, or I�m going to curse you with neverending boils and leave
you here for��

�� His voice
broke at the end. He was crying, or near to crying, and that was the only
reason Draco didn�t draw his wand and try to curse Weasley back. He was worried
about Harry. Draco could sympathize with that. He could deal with that.

�� For the
moment, he dug his hands into the grass and struggled to rise. Weasley didn�t
seem to notice at first, but he lifted his wand threateningly when Draco made
it to his knees. Draco held his empty palms up in front of him and spoke as
slowly and calmly as he could.

�� I didn�t
know. I gave him something that was a Portkey, but I didn�t know!� He yelped the last words, because Weasley�s wand had
jabbed towards him far more threateningly than he felt comfortable with. �It
came from Moody. He said it was something that would help Harry with the Third
Task. And then I got that letter from my father.� He nodded at the paper now
lying crumpled on the ground.

�� Weasley
didn�t even glance at it, though his eyes had narrowed. Draco had no idea if
that was a good thing or not. �From Moody? I don�t believe you. He�s an Auror;
he wouldn�t have anything to do with Dark magic!�

�� Well, that
came from him,� Draco snapped. His fear was welling up again, so thick that he
had to blink several times to clear what looked like choking fumes out of his
eyes. �And it was obviously meant to take Harry somewhere, and to trigger delivery of my father�s letter when it
did.�

�� I only
have your word that the letter is from your father,� Weasley replied
infuriatingly. �Moody wouldn�t have anything to do with Dark magic.�

�� For crying
out loud, Weasley,� said Draco, struggling not to use the insulting nicknames
that he really wanted to use. That
would only force Weasley away from him, and Draco had the sick, sinking feeling
that he would need the dunderhead�s help if he was going to rescue Harry.
Weasley was the only one besides Draco who knew what had really happened. �He
taught us the Unforgivable Curses.�

�� Weasley
hesitated for a moment, then jerked his head to the side in a dismissive
movement. �Only because Dumbledore told him to.�

�� And that
means he can know Dark magic,� Draco persisted. He wouldn�t let Weasley derail
this conversation, not when Harry could be in danger. �That means he uses Dark
magic. And I only gave that knot to Harry because I thought it would help him.
For Merlin�s sake, why would I help Harry all year, and be his friend, if I
wanted to kill him? There are easier ways to do that.�

�� I don�t
care,� Weasley said. �Maybe you just wanted to be part of the big plot when it
finally did happen. I know you hate
Harry. I know you�re jealous of him. I know you�ve always been jealous of me
for being his friend.� His hand was tightening on his wand.

�� Draco
thought of asking why he would be jealous of Weasley for being Harry�s friend
if he hated Harry, but it was only too clear that this line of conversation
wasn�t going to do anything. They had to do
something. Draco couldn�t watch his best friend be snatched from in front of
him, and know that he had partially caused it, and then not do anything to stop
it.

�� I�m going
to Professor Snape,� he said, and shoved himself to his feet whilst Weasley was
thinking about that, before he could make up his mind to launch a curse.

�� He�ll only
protect you because you�re a Slytherin and he hates Harry, too,� Weasley said.
�He gave Harry so many detentions this term��

�� Because he
was teaching him in Potions and Dark Arts,� Draco snapped. �You notice that
Harry�s got a little better in Potions than he was? He makes higher marks now?
That was Professor Snape�s teaching.�

�� Weasley�s
eyes narrowed. The wand wavered, a bit.

�� And
anyway,� Draco added impatiently, �he has Veritaserum, and I�ll volunteer to
take it, and that�ll prove that I didn�t really betray Harry.�

�� Before
Weasley could protest again, Draco marched towards the castle. Weasley came
promptly, and hurriedly, behind, trying to look as if he were a guard in charge
of a prisoner.

�� Draco
didn�t really care. His mind was full of bloody lashes and the spells that
Lucius had used on the house-elf, Dobby.

�� If my father�s wherever the Portkey took
Harry, then he�ll really suffer.

*

�� Harry came
out of the whirl of colors on his broom, and he heard high-pitched, cold
laughter nearby, and someone was running towards him across grass that crunched
under his feet. Harry had heard that laughter before, in nightmares and
whenever Dementors were near.

�� His broom.

�� His broom
was still with him, the broom that Sirius had given him and which Harry would
die if anything happened to.

�� He
immediately leaped to the ground and threw the broom down beside him,
whispering the most powerful protective charm he knew, one which Draco had
taught him after Harry had caught Seamus poking around his trunk. The broom
sparkled and then disappeared under a rush of white light that faded a moment
later, so the broom blended with the heather it was lying on. Harry took a deep
breath of relief.

�� Then
someone seized him and spun him around. Harry tried to lift his wand, but it
was taken away from him, and the person holding him pressed his own wand
against Harry�s throat, forcing his head back.

�� Wormtail. Harry would recognize the man
anywhere. The glimpses he�d got of him in the photographs Seamus had burned and
in the Pensieve memories that Remus and Sirius had shared with Harry assured
him of that.

�� Wormtail,�
he gasped.

�� Pettigrew
shifted around for a moment, as if he disliked the name, and then shook his
head and started dragging Harry across the grass. Harry managed to turn his
head and see where they were for the first time.

�� It was a
graveyard, and most of the graves they passed were mere low mounds of grass,
with the headstones sticking out above them and leaning over like old teeth.
Harry shivered with disgust and tried to twist away from Pettigrew, aiming to
bite him in the arm. But Pettigrew cast the same Body-Bind that Snape had last
year when he was chasing Sirius, and Harry found himself motionless.

�� He was laid
on a block of stone, and Pettigrew turned away. Harry�s head was frozen so that
he couldn�t even move it to see what Pettigrew was doing. He strained his
muscles against the spell, relaxing and then clenching them again. That had
seemed to work last time he was imprisoned under this. If he could just get
away�

�� Then he
forgot about doing that for a moment and nearly fainted from fear instead.� The biggest snake he had ever seen had coiled
up beside him, most of its body apparently resting on the ground next to the
block of stone but a great deal of it rearing above him. The snake swayed back
and forth, eyeing him intently. Harry couldn�t see a hood, so he knew it wasn�t
a cobra, but that wasn�t really reassuring.

�� He thought
he had seen this snake before, in the nightmares he�d had a few times during
the summer, before they abruptly stopped. It was Voldemort�s snake. He couldn�t
remember what it was called, but he didn�t have to for it to be terrifying. It
was big enough to eat him, and he doubted it would respond to his Parseltongue
any more than the basilisk had.

�� Nagini!�

�� The snake
turned and slithered away from Harry, towards the source of the voice. Voldemort, Harry thought. Just like the laughter. He wished he could
cast some kind of wandless curse in the direction of the voice, but if that was
possible, he�d sure never heard about it. Where�s
accidental magic when you need it, anyway?

�� Wormtail!
Prepare the cauldron!�

�� I�m doing
so, master.� Wormtail�s voice was so servile that Harry felt embarrassed for
him. He�d never sounded like that even when the Dursleys commanded him to do
some painful or humiliating chore. He managed to make them believe he didn�t
care about their orders instead, which frustrated Uncle Vernon something awful.

�� Bone of
the father,� Voldemort�s voice said gloatingly. �Blood of the enemy. Flesh of
the servant.� The voice came nearer, though Harry still couldn�t turn his head
and gauge why. �How does it feel to know that you will be instrumental in
bringing your most hated enemy back to life, Harry?�

�� Harry�s
scar began to burn, and helpless tears ran from his eyes. Voldemort appeared in
front of him, a nearly formless lump of flesh with a face and a pair of stubby
arms and legs, cradled in the coils of Nagini. His eyes were wide and red and
exhilarated and terrifying. When he reached out and stroked Harry�s scar with
the stump where a hand should be, Harry vomited with the pain, but the liquid
ran back down inside his throat because he couldn�t turn his head.

�� Voldemort
noticed. �Wormtail!� he said briskly.

�� Wormtail
made a hoarse, horrible scream in response. Harry shivered and then almost
vomited again when Nagini leaned down towards him, its tongue flickering as if
it wanted to smell his fear.

�� He could do
absolutely nothing. Voldemort was going to take his blood and use it in some
kind of potion or spell, and Harry just had to lie here�

�� And he
couldn�t stand that. Think of all the people who would be hurt if he did that.
Ron, and Hermione, and Draco even if he was a traitor�because if he was, then it couldn�t be because he knew
the truth about Voldemort�and Neville and Ginny and Dumbledore and Snape�

�� He had to do something.

�� And
suddenly his head was free, a little. He was able to tilt it and spit out the
nauseating mixture of half-digested food and bile that was choking him, at
least. And then, as Voldemort chuckled and floated towards him in the shifting
tangles of the snake, Harry mustered the courage and the liquid and spat in his
face.

�� Voldemort
shrieked as if Harry�s saliva actually had the power to harm him whilst it
trickled down his cheeks and collected in the corners of his flat mouth. Nagini
hissed and opened its mouth as if it would strike, but Voldemort waved a nonexistent
hand and snapped, �Wormtail!� again.

�� Harry
managed to turn his head, and saw Wormtail coming towards them with a horribly
bleeding wound. It looked as if he�d chopped off his hand and dropped it into the cauldron. Harry stared in horror, and
didn�t notice the silver knife in Wormtail�s hand, or the vial, until the first
had sliced into his arm and the second had been arranged to collect his blood.

�� Harry
screamed without reserve for a moment, because it hurt, and then decided that he would deny Voldemort even that if he
could. He clamped his lips shut and only whimpered as Wormtail drew out the
blood and took it back to toss into the cauldron. Harry didn�t watch him.
Instead, he stared defiantly straight at his enemy and managed to summon more
saliva. This time, he used it to moisten his lips and speak. �If you were a
real man,� he said, �you�d unbind me and duel with me. Coward.�

�� Voldemort
laughed. The sound made Harry�s scar ache as if a second knife was stabbing
through his skull. �Patience, patience,� Voldemort said at last, dropping down
into a chuckle like the screams of some small tortured furry animal. �I can
hardly fight you as I am, young Harry. It will be best to wait.� His lips
widened into an appreciative smile, if you could call them lips, if you could
call that a smile. �Until I am back to my normal self, and until we have an
audience. Yes, an audience will be best.�

�� The snake
swarmed away then, still carrying Voldemort, but turning its head back from
time to time to hiss at Harry. Harry lay there, panting, and tried to collect
himself from the impulse to scream or curl up and whimper until something else
happened and made him uncurl. He could be brave enough to try and not show his
pain and anger, at least.

�� Still, he
found himself unable to watch Voldemort�s resurrection. It was bitter enough to
hear the triumphant laugh and to smell the stench that filled the air as
Voldemort entered the cauldron, a mixture of rotting roses and unshelled
oysters.

*

�� Severus
Apparated into a graveyard he recognized at once; he had visited it once
before, when the Dark Lord had required Severus to attend him on a mission to
gather potions ingredients. Even then, though the Dark Lord had claimed that
the rare spotted aconite grew nowhere but here, Severus had recognized that for
a lie. He knew this place meant something else to his master.

�� His master.

�� The words
were heavy and useless in his thoughts, as cold as lead, but he had to think
them. Soon he would have to say them. Best to prepare the mouth by preparing
the head.

�� He turned
to look around the circle as he cast himself to the ground, and recognized,
from the set of their shoulders and the curve of their backs, at least three of
the other Death Eaters. Of course, Lucius was unmistakable; he never did manage to bind up that long pale
hair of his so that it was all hidden under the hood of his robe. And there was
Macnair, the most muscled of all the Death Eaters, and the cowering shape that
would be Avery. Avery had been suspected more than once of turning traitor,
even before the end of the war.

�� Severus
took a moment to resent the emotions and understandings and perceptions
crowding back in on him, the intangible minutiae that ruled the life of a spy.

�� Then he
turned his head and saw Potter lying on what looked like an altar in front of
an open grave.

�� For a long
moment, his muscles cramped, and he was glad that the Dark Lord had not
required them to stand in that moment to prove their allegiance; Severus would
have fallen over. He stared in silence as the Dark Lord, standing with his hand
on Pettigrew�s arm, began a long, rambling speech about the necessity of
conquering the world and the return of faithful servants and how it was that he
had come back to his body after so long.

�� Severus
knew how he had come back to his body�Dark magic, using Potter�s blood and
perhaps his flesh�and didn�t care to listen. He stared at the boy instead, and
the emotions moving through him changed as deliberately as the motions of the
great snake coiled behind the Dark Lord.

�� He was
incapable of simply remaining still when Lily�s son was in danger. He might
need to be a spy; he might need to suffer pain and obscure his thoughts because
his debt to Dumbledore was not repaid. But far worse than betraying Lily by
running from this war would be to betray her because he had not been able to
rescue her son.

�� I could not prevent him from killing you,
Lily. I can prevent this.

�� And though
it might cost his life, he would.

�� The Dark
Lord was still ranting on. Usually, he had ended the speech by now to torture
someone. Oh, yes, he had called Avery out of the ranks and was inflicting the
Cruciatus upon him. Severus began to shift a hand across the grass, moving an
inch every few minutes. He kept his mind calm and clear, and not simply because
he was using Occlumency. He was prepared to give up this exercise should the
Dark Lord call on him, and begin all over again the moment he was unwatched.
This was the kind of patience that had kept him alive when he was a spy.

�� But the
Dark Lord was occupied with torturing Avery, and then Macnair, whom he resented
for getting a job in the Ministry, it seemed, whilst he was wandering the world
as a bodiless spirit. Severus�s hand closed on the object he had sought, one of
the buttons that secured his robes shut, without interruption.

�� He had
fallen forwards when he arrived, and so his wand was already beneath him. It
took only a moment to aim it an angle that would permit him to strike the
button with the spell he murmured.

�� He made it
into a Portkey to Hogwarts, and he made it so without moving his lips. Then he
tapped the button with his wand and incanted the opposite of the Summoning
Charm, which sent the object to a desired destination. This destination
happened to be a clump of grass at the foot of the �altar� on which Potter was
tied.

�� Severus had
done what he could. He drew his hand back inside his robe and settled into a
�comfortable� groveling position so he could listen, with cold, clear disgust,
to Lucius describing his part in the latest disaster.

*

�� And so
when my son betrayed me and began to consort with Potter,� Lucius Malfoy
finished, sounding like a cat with a mouth full of cream, �I knew that I wanted
to make him part of my reprisal against the boy, that he might learn the error
of his ways.�

�� Harry
hated.

�� The hatred
was as steady as a heartbeat, as steady as the pain that had been flaring
through his scar ever since Voldemort had called the Death Eaters and moved a
certain distance away to lean on Wormtail�s arm. And all that hatred was
directed at Lucius Malfoy rather than at Voldemort.

�� But
Voldemort was just an obstacle Harry already knew he would have to deal with,
like exams and storms and the Dursleys. Lucius had set up his own son to betray
Harry by willingly feeding Draco untrue information and making him trust
someone who was at the school in the guise of Moody. That person�s name hadn�t
been mentioned yet, but Harry knew they couldn�t be the real Moody, because
Lucius had said so. And he had no reason to lie. He was bragging in front of
all his friends, telling them the truth to make them jealous.

�� It wasn�t Draco.

�� That was
the real thing Harry cared about. He hadn�t wanted
to believe that Draco could be responsible for his betrayal, so he�d avoided
thinking about it too much, but the possibility had still lurked in the back of
his mind. Now he knew it wasn�t true, and when Voldemort turned to him with a
greedy look, Harry could just laugh.

�� Did you
want to talk,� he asked Voldemort, with a bored expression on his face that he
knew wasn�t real but which he hoped Voldemort wouldn�t know about, �or did you
want to duel?�

�� For a
moment, Voldemort, who had become a man without a nose and with lips just as
flat as they�d been in his deformed baby face, hissed with rage. Then he
smoothed that expression away and smirked. �Wormtail,� he said, �give young
Master Potter back his wand. Yes, we will indeed duel.�

�� Wormtail
limped over to free Harry. He had a silver hand now, to replace the one he�d
cut off, Harry saw. He looked Wormtail in the face once, and gave him a glare
that he tried to make sting. It must have worked, because Wormtail looked away
from him and gulped nervously as he cast the spell that reversed the Body-Bind.

�� And then
Harry had his wand in his hand again, and he was shaking with fear but also
with determination, and he knew what he was going to do. There was no way he
would win in a real duel against Voldemort, so he had to do two things. One was
to take his broom and get out of there as soon as possible.

�� But the
first was to hurt Lucius Malfoy.

�� He climbed
slowly to his feet and took his time swinging off the stone whilst the Death
Eaters formed a wide ring around them. They were shifting and whispering
eagerly among themselves. Lucius, the only one who had removed his mask, was
smirking like Dudley when he�d stolen sweets from some younger children down
the street. And a tall Death Eater not far from Lucius stood in a familiar way,
his arms folded.

�� Snape.

�� Harry had
the feeling that Snape had tried to catch his eye. He looked away at once. God
knew what sort of horrible things Snape would do to him now, now that he was
here as a faithful Death Eater.

�� Bow to
me,� Voldemort said.

�� Oh, no. �I won�t,� Harry said.

�� Imperio!� Voldemort flicked his wand,
which was long and made of some dark wood�yew, Harry thought, Mr. Ollivander�s
words suddenly coming back to him for no reason�and the spell hit Harry. It
made his mind feel floaty, just as it had when Not-Moody cast it in Defense Against
the Dark Arts, but the little voice that advised him to pay attention to the
suggestion was just as stupid as ever.

�� NO!� Harry
said, and in the distraction of that moment, with Voldemort staring at him and
most of the Death Eaters leaping into the air in sheer surprise, he turned his
wand towards Lucius and cast one of the curses Snape had taught him.

�� Creo impotens!�

�� Lucius
cried out as the purple hand took form around his groin and closed down. Harry
grinned and danced sideways when someone shot a curse at him; he thought it was
Voldemort, but he didn�t want to take the time to look away from Lucius right
now. Besides, Voldemort was slower than Snape.

�� And now he�ll have a hard time having sex
with anyone ever again. Harry had been beyond embarrassed when Snape taught
him that curse. He hadn�t thought he�d ever use it. But it felt bloody good
right now.

�� Then
Voldemort started trying to kill him.

�� It was much
more terrifying than Harry had expected it would be, based on the basilisk and
his fight with Voldemort when he was still in the back of Professor Quirrell�s
head. Red lights and green ones�the Killing Curse�and white ones and purple
ones stabbed the grass around him, and the Death Eaters swayed and hummed in a
way that they seemed to think would give Voldemort more strength. Harry thought
he�d lose a finger or a toe several times. He leaped and scrambled and rolled
and dodged, and found himself too busy to even try to fire back, or construct a
Shield Charm.

�� But all the
time, he was working towards where his broom lay. And then he was right on top
of it, near the place where the golden knot had brought him.

�� Harry dived
under another curse, this one a wavering, snapping flag of light like a wind
made visible, and seized the broom. The protective charm washed away at once.
Harry hopped onto the broom and soared madly upwards.

�� Voldemort
shouted, and this time a whole bunch of
spells fired after Harry. Harry didn�t care. He flattened himself to the broom
and shot into the sky. If he got high enough, then maybe he could see the way
back to Hogwarts, or maybe he could see the lights of London and make his way
towards them. And at the least, if they killed him, then they would have to
kill his broom at the same time.

*

�� Severus
cursed within his head, too wary to do so aloud. There was always someone who
would notice even at a time like this, when half the Death Eaters were trying
desperately to join their lord in the hunt.

�� Damn and blast the Potter�s brat�s audacity. If
he�d remained on the ground the way he was supposed to, then Severus might have
managed to catch his eye, as he�d tried several times to do, and force the
mental impression of the Portkey on him. Now he was had to resort to a far more
dangerous maneuver.

�� He aimed
his wand at the hidden button Portkey and jerked his arm, once, chanting the
incantation in his head. He held his breath as the button left the ground and
zoomed towards Potter. If this didn�t work, then he suspected there was no
chance for Potter to escape. Only the boy�s insane luck had kept him alive so
far, and perhaps a modicum of his skill at Quidditch once he got back on the
broom. And the Portkey could easily be destroyed by one of the many curses
flying through the air around Potter.

�� But he saw,
or thought he saw, the tiny shape aiming true on its course, and then he knew
it had worked, because Potter vanished in the swirl of colors that heralded a
Portkey.

�� The Dark
Lord shouted once, a full-throated roar that resembled a lion�s so much as to
make Severus wonder idly for a moment if he was almost Sorted into Gryffindor.
Then he turned to questioning and torturing his Death Eaters, because of course
he suspected treachery among them. And Severus could not fault him for that.

�� He prepared
his Occlumency shields and went through his own share of pain as serenely as
possible. It calmed and strengthened him more than he could have imagined, to
know that he was the source of Potter�s escape.

*

�� Draco�s
knuckles ached from fruitless pounding on Professor Snape�s door, until Weasley
had convinced him that the professor must not be there and dragged him up the
stairs to speak to the Headmaster. His throat ached from talking, from
screaming, from shouting. His head ached from the dizzy press of blood against
his temples, as it throbbed again and again and told him that Harry was dead, he was dead, and Draco hadn�t been able to do anything.

�� And still
the Headmaster looked at Draco through mild, if sad, eyes, and insisted that he
repeat the whole tale from the beginning.

�� Draco
gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forwards. �I�ve already told you as
much as I know,� he said. �Even if
you don�t believe me, can�t you at least slip some Veritaserum into Moody�s tea
and see what he tells you?�

�� I do
believe you,� Dumbledore said, in the patient, inflexible voice that told Draco
he really didn�t. �However, my boy, these are serious accusations you are
repeating. I must know��

�� And then
there was a hand flinging open the door that led to the moving staircase, and
Harry was running inside, his arm bleeding, his eyes so wide that he might have
seen the Dark Lord himself.

�� Draco
leaped to his feet and ran to him. He was almost there when he remembered. The
last time Harry had seen Draco, he�d just handed Harry the Portkey that took
him away. Would he think of that first? Would that be all he knew?

�� But Harry
reached out, grasped Draco�s hand, and shook it, once. �I saw your father,� he
said. �He bragged.�

�� Draco took
a long, deep breath. The relief that flooded him was almost sweeter than what
he felt when he turned around and looked at Weasley�s face, only to see it had
set in an expression of confusion. Draco controlled the urge to snicker or to
dance. After all, Harry�s arm was still bleeding.

�� Sir,�
Harry said to Dumbledore, �Voldemort is back.�

�� Draco had
not realized that name could still shock him like a slap to the face, even
though he�d heard Harry say it before. Maybe it was just the name combined with
the word back, he thought, as a
profound silence settled over the room.

�� Back to
war. Back to slavery. Back to his father being a Death Eater.

�� His father.
How was Draco going to face him, now that he knew Draco had been betraying him
all along and passing information from the letters to Harry?

�� Mr. Weasley,
Mr. Malfoy,� Dumbledore said suddenly, standing, �please wait for us in the
infirmary, where Mr. Potter will be coming after I�ve spoken with him. I need
to talk to him alone.�

*

�� Harry
blinked when he saw Ron and Draco both leave. He could tell they didn�t want
to�they were both turning back and staring at him even as they shambled out the
door�but they went anyway. And why? Why did Dumbledore have to talk to him
alone? Could he really think that Ron or Draco would run off and betray him?

�� Dumbledore
shut the door to the moving staircase and turned around to face Harry. Harry
straightened his shoulders. There was a complex expression on the Headmaster�s
face, and suddenly Harry wondered if he was going to learn some information he
should have learned a long time ago.

�� Harry.�
Dumbledore spoke his name in the same way that Harry had always wished Uncle
Vernon would say it, as if he were about to apologize for all his mistakes. �I
wanted to keep you a child. When I was young, I lost�someone very dear to me
through my lack of responsibility. She should have been protected and sheltered
more than she was, not exposed to Dark magic and ruin at a young age. I
thought, if I kept you away from a fate like that, you could grow up to be
happier than she was. And I did not dare trust myself with your protection
after what happened to her, no matter that Professor McGonagall advised me not
to leave you with your relatives.� He sighed. �I wonder if you can forgive me.�

�� Harry
clenched his hands several times. Then he said, �But I faced Dark magic and
Voldemort anyway. What you did to me
didn�t do any good.� For the first time, he was aware of the pain in his
bleeding arm.

�� Dumbledore
looked up, and his eyes were almost sad enough that Harry wanted to comfort him
instead of being comforted. �I know that. I understand that now, Harry. And I
am going to do what I should have done from the first, or at least from the
time you were eleven, and treat you as an adult.

�� I heard a
prophecy not long before your birth which convinced me that you and Voldemort
were destined to oppose each other. You were not the only candidate. Neville
Longbottom also fit some of the characteristics of the prophecy child. So,
although I hid your parents and Neville�s parents both, I did not take any more
decisive steps at first. Voldemort�had some knowledge of the prophecy, through
a means I had not anticipated. He did not know the whole, but enough that his
choice was important.

�� He chose
you, Harry. He marked you as his equal.� Dumbledore turned and waved his wand.
A Pensieve floated off a shelf among the other glittering silver objects and
over to his hand. Dumbledore touched his wand to his temple, took out a long,
glimmering strand of memory, and dropped it into the Pensieve, then held it out
to Harry.

�� Harry
hesitated, then plunged his head into the memory.

�� He saw
Professor Trelawney in a small room that he didn�t recognize, her eyes rolling
back into her head as she spoke in a voice that made Harry�s hair try to rise
on the nape of his neck. Dumbledore was standing across from her, staring at
her as if he didn�t know quite what to make of the words spilling out of her
mouth.

�� The one with the power to vanquish the Dark
Lord approaches�born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh
month dies�and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power
the Dark Lord knows not�and either must die at the hand of the other for
neither can live while the other survives�the one with the power to vanquish
the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies��

�� And then
the memory ended, and Harry found himself standing back in Dumbledore�s office
once more.

�� The pain in
his cut and bleeding arm seemed to have settled into his bones. He had lost the
joy that had sustained him when he hurled the impotence curse at Lucius, the
determination to survive that had made him hurtle across the sky and
immediately hurry to Dumbledore�s office when he landed back at Hogwarts. Then,
he had still been thinking that he would tell everything to Dumbledore and, for
once, with all the evidence right in front of him, Dumbledore would be the one
to sort matters out.

�� Either must die at the hand of the other.

�� Dumbledore
wouldn�t be sorting anything out. It was all up to Harry.

�� He shivered
and looked up. Dumbledore gave him a smile full of worry and heartbreak and
inclined his head slightly.

�� You see
why I kept this from you?� he murmured. �It is a burden too heavy for any child
to bear. But now I see that you must bear it anyway, and sooner than I had
expected. I had hoped that Voldemort would not return until you were in your
seventh year, at least, of age and ready to hear harder truths.� He sighed. �He
did mark you, Harry. He chose to mark
you.� He gestured to the scar on Harry�s forehead. �He believed the prophecy
was true. He has great trust in its power. But the prophecy does not say that
he will win and you will die, Harry. It says that the issue is a matter of
chance.�

�� Chance,�
Harry whispered. His throat was so dry he could hardly get the word out.

�� Oh, people
will help you,� Dumbledore said. �Professor Snape will train you�and in a new
subject next year, called Occlumency, because now that Voldemort has returned
fully, I am afraid that he will try to use the curse scar as a link into your
mind. Tricky things, curse scars. One must be prepared to combat their full
effects.� He appeared to meditate for a moment, and then returned to himself
with a start. �And there is a group called the Order of Phoenix that fought him
during the first war. They must be resurrected. And your friends will stand
beside you�Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. And of course I will be here, and your
Head of House, and the other professors will help you as best as they can. You
must not be dismayed if you saw Professor Snape at the meeting of Death Eaters
tonight, Harry. He was a spy during the war, and I am sure he has not returned
to his oldest allegiance.�

�� Harry
ignored that, because, at the moment, he didn�t care much about Snape. �You
didn�t mention Draco.�

�� Dumbledore
was silent for long moments. Then he said, �Mr. Malfoy has made it clear how
much he likes you, Harry.� He laid a heavy emphasis on likes which Harry frowned at. Of course Draco was one of his best
friends. So what? �But showing that friendship openly is likely to get him into
trouble with his father. What must happen is his submission to Lucius in formal
terms, whilst he silently maintains his rebellion. If he wants to be a spy for
us in his father�s house, I would welcome that. But he cannot meet with you
openly as he was doing.�

�� That�s
stupid!� Harry said hotly. �That�s so dangerous for him, and he�s a child without a prophecy about
him, and��

�� He wants
to help.� Dumbledore peered directly, seriously, at him. �Would you forbid him
to help you, when this is the only effort of friendship he can make in the
situation? Or would you give up your friendship with him altogether rather than
meet with him in secret?�

�� Don�t be
stupid,� Harry said, and only realized what he had said a moment later, when
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. �Sorry, sir. But I don�t
want him to be a spy��

�� That is
his decision to make,� said Dumbledore. �It might be that he can lie well
enough to his father to fool him. I hope so, because I have no legal recourse
to take him from his parents. But whether he does or does not, your meetings
with him must be in secret from now on. Not to do that will put him in worse danger.�

�� Harry
opened his mouth, and then closed it. He wanted to say that he didn�t want to
meet with Draco in secret, because it made everything harder, and he would be
more alone than ever now, because he didn�t trust Snape and Sirius certainly
couldn�t come back because Wormtail would try to hunt him and Lucius Malfoy was
just as much a danger to Draco whether he believed him or not, because he could
change his mind at any time�

�� And he had to close his mouth, because what was
anything that Harry wanted when compared to the danger Draco was in?

�� I
understand, sir,� he whispered.

�� You will
have to be strong, Harry.� Dumbledore�s voice was terribly earnest, in a way
that made Harry hurt the way he did when McGonagall was disappointed in him,
and he didn�t even know why. �You will have to be safe. You�ll stay with the Dursleys
this summer. I did hope that you could spend part of it with Sirius or the
Weasleys, but�� He closed his eyes for a moment, and Harry thought he was
seeing the man who had fought against Voldemort before, or maybe Grindelwald.
�That�s impossible.�

�� Yes, sir.�
Harry�s voice was dusty and mechanical now. He hadn�t even thought that much
about the summer because he�d hoped so fervently it would be different. But of
course it wouldn�t be. If Voldemort was back, it was even more important for
him to stay where he was protected.

�� Blood
wards are on that house,� Dumbledore continued softly. �Blood wards founded in
your mother�s love.� He sighed and shook his head. �I would not leave you there
if there was a choice, Harry. I know they do not treat you well. But if it is
the difference between a little mistreatment and murder��

�� Harry
nodded mechanically, again. He knew he was luckier than some kids. The Dursleys
never had tried to hit him, except for Dudley, even if Uncle Vernon looked as
if he wanted to sometimes. And there were no whippings.

�� You are
taking this very well, Harry.� Dumbledore�s voice was low and approving. �Like
an adult. I must ask you to take a further adult step and keep the prophecy
secret and close. And now, dear child, I think I should send you to Madam
Pomfrey to have your arm cleaned and bandaged. She would be angry with me
already if she knew how long I had kept you here talking.�

�� If I�m still an adult, why are you calling
me a dear child? Harry thought, but he was tired, and his arm hurt, and his
head hurt, and he did want to go to the infirmary, so he went.

*

�� Severus was
tired, even after he swallowed several potions for the nerve damage he would
certainly have incurred from the Dark Lord�s Cruciatus Curse.

�� It had
taken him some time to sort out what had happened after he returned. Draco had
flown to him at once when he went to the hospital wing to check on the Potter
brat, babbling over with nervousness. From him, Severus had learned of Moody�s
part in the treachery, and of the means by which Potter had been brought to the
Dark Lord�s presence.

�� Moody,
Severus learned, or the man who had played him, was fled; Dumbledore had kept
Draco close in his office, playing at being a doddering old man, because he had
felt Moody cross the wards and Apparate out shortly after Draco brought the
Portkey to Potter. Otherwise, he would certainly have arrested the man at once.
As it was, he thought it best to keep Draco from a useless search for him that
might have contaminated Draco with
further suspicion in other students� eyes. And as it was, Severus might have
stood next to the imposter under robes and mask and never known it was him.

�� At least he
had been able to tell Dumbledore, based on the compulsive bragging Lucius had
done as they left the meeting, that the man was Barty Crouch, Junior. Lucius
had been instrumental in getting him into Moody�s place.

�� Lucius stands higher in the Dark Lord�s
councils than ever I knew, Severus thought, and tore his gaze away from the
sleeping boy in the bed to the alert and dry-eyed boy beside him. The boy
Severus thought had adopted an insanely dangerous course when he decided to spy
on his father for Dumbledore and Potter. He had been present at that meeting, at his own insistence,
though his shouting had done no good at all.

�� Draco,� he
began now, thinking he might stand a chance with Potter asleep and Dumbledore
in discussions with the Minister, and thus Draco�s two main sources of
influence away from him.

�� You can�t
convince me otherwise.� Draco�s voice was very calm, settled, in a way that
Severus didn�t like. He turned around and stared up at Severus. �I�d have to
lie to my father anyway, given what happened when I gave the Portkey to Harry.�

�� I know
that,� Severus said sharply, and trotted out the argument he hadn�t been able
to use in front of Dumbledore. �But you failed to fool him once before. I do
not like your chances a second time.�

�� This is
going to be different.�

�� You can�t
know that.� Severus wanted to snarl. Draco�s greatest fault had always been
overconfidence, and it had turned on him and bitten as him never before. Did
Draco intend to forget the lesson so soon?

�� Yes, I
can.� Draco clenched his hands into fists and sounded as if he were trying to
control his breathing. �It�ll be different because this time, it has to be different. I�ll do it or I
won�t survive.�

�� Severus
knelt in front of Draco and caught his eye. He had no words to express his
pride and his grief.

�� But he
could offer something better.

�� We have a
month before the end of term,� he said. �I will teach you every spare moment
that I have, so that you may master Occlumency. Occlumency influences behavior
once deeply learned. It renders the spoken lies more convincing, when others
can hear the clang of your mental armor in your words. They quite often mistake
it for the clang of truth. And I will want you to request a personal house-elf
from your father and use any means you can to suborn it, so that you may send
it to me in times of need. Do you understand,
Draco?�

�� Draco
smiled. His face looked fragile and old and young. �I do. And actually, I freed
a house-elf last summer that my father punished for helping Harry, so I think
the others will be happy to help me.�

�� Severus
took a deep breath and laid a hand on Draco�s shoulder. �Good.� There was
nothing more than that to say.

�� Draco
turned his gaze back to the bed�of course, Severus thought as he stood. �Does
he know that you saved his life?�

�� If he is
smart he will have guessed that, yes,� Severus said dryly. �Portkeys do not
appear out of thin air every day. But I did not reach the hospital wing before
he fell asleep, as you know, and I am accustomed to our arrogant young hero
doing everything he can to avoid acknowledging my role in his life. We are comrades
in war now, and that will have to be enough for him.� He took a deep breath.
�We are both spies now, Draco, and we will both need to maintain an
antagonistic relationship to Potter on the surface, beginning immediately. Your
father will be more likely to believe your �defection� if he has a month of
evidence before you go home.�

�� I know
that,� Draco said lowly. Then he looked up at Severus. �But I can still come
and talk to you about this?�

�� You may
come and talk to me about anything,�
said Severus fiercely, and, because no one else was around to see him, he
embraced the boy.

*

�� Harry
quickly turned his head back into the pillow and shut his eyes. The image
remained, though.

�� Snape
hugging Draco.

�� And the
words were there, too: Snape promising to help Draco, training him in
everything he�d need to know, whilst he went forwards to do something important
on the front lines of the war during the summer.

�� And Harry
ached all over.

�� With fear
for Draco and pride, because Draco had freed Dobby.

�� With
helplessness because he wouldn�t be able to do anything to help during his summer, even though he was the one
who would have to fight Voldemort in the end.

�� With loss
because he wouldn�t be able to meet openly with Draco as his friend anymore,
and he was sure both Snape and Dumbledore would try to make sure their meetings
were as quick and as few as possible.

�� And with
envy, envy he hated and tried to suppress, but which sat there and ached and
bled and burned anyway.

�� Draco had
someone who cared for him. Someone who would train him in the things he most
needed to know. Someone who acknowledged the similarities between them and
looked at him with an expression of pride.

�� Harry
wasn�t ever going to have that.

�� He�d
thought there might have been a small chance Snape would have changed his mind
when he saw Harry escaping from Voldemort�but no. He still thought Harry was
arrogant. And it was true that Snape
had had to save his life. Harry hadn�t escaped on his own the same way he
hadn�t solved the First Task on his own; that had been Draco�s plan.

�� So how am I going to act on my own now? The
way I have to, if I�m going to defeat Voldemort?

�� Harry took
a deep breath and held it for long moments; if he released it the huff he
wanted to release it in, that would tell Draco and Snape he wasn�t really
asleep. But he was carefully making up his mind, and he knew the conclusions he
was coming to were the right ones.

�� Snape and
Draco had each other. It was good they
had each other. Snape could teach Draco about being a spy, and he could teach
him how to live. Harry was a liability right now to both of them.

�� And Harry
didn�t really want Snape as a teacher, anyway. And if seeing Harry facing death
didn�t change his mind about Harry�s arrogance, nothing ever would.

�� Harry would
do what he had to do to survive. He would pretend to hate Draco. He would
distrust Snape (there was no pretending about that). He would keep the prophecy
to himself, as Dumbledore had asked him to do, and he would prepare for a war
he didn�t really know anything about, because he hadn�t even been injured to
speak of in this first �battle� with Voldemort.

�� He would be
an adult. He would be what everyone wanted him to be.

�� But he
would spend more time with Ron and Hermione, who he�d only been able to talk to
briefly before he �fell asleep,� because they were the only people left he
could be sure would be able to walk around openly with him.

And he would make sure to visit
Sirius as often as he could next year. Because he needed an adult who could
care for him, too, and Sirius was what he had.

*

Whitmore: Thank you!

heyyou: I�ve actually been planning
this twist for some time, as part of Draco�s further development.

jeslyn_nighthawk: Thanks for
reviewing.

DBZVelena: Harry would probably
have figured it out, but likely Lucius was willing to spill his guts.

qwerty: Thank you! It helps that,
in this story, Lucius is more dangerous than he is in canon.

callistianstar: �Erm, sorry? I am sorry I couldn�t let Draco
rescue Harry, but logically, he had absolutely no way of knowing where he would
be taken.

I share the urge to want to wring Lucius�s
neck.

Sneakyfox: Draco is planning on how
to survive Lucius, as you can see.

In this story, Lucius is more
powerful (I always did think he was, based on his having the diary in canon)
and more trusted by Voldemort. And in this story, Voldemort intended Harry to
die far away from help and for no one but the Death Eaters to know what
happened to him. That Harry escaped throws a wrench in the works.

LarienMiriel: Sorry!

DTDY: Yes. Lucius has some of Draco�s
faults, though: he�s overconfident and vain of his power. He can be flattered
into compliance.

I.Drowned.My.Goldfish: Thanks! I
can�t see Draco lying perfectly here, when he�s a fourteen-year-old boy, but
most of the problem is that he got overconfident. He�ll try not to make that
mistake again.

Harry will have more trouble coming
out about the abuse next year. And it�s possible that Snape will finally change
his attitude for the better!

Mangacat: Thanks! He didn�t
complete the third task, though. Voldemort snatched him earlier than that.
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Inter Vivos