Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them.
**I have been rereading these for any corrections I can catch and will repost one or two chapters a day until they are back up to Chapter 27. Chapter 28 begins the new chapters ending the story, and I will be sure to note in the story synopsis when the new chapter kick in. Thanks for reading - or re-reading. **
Here With Me
Chapter 2
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Harry didn't exactly 'wake up' later. Consciousness snuck up on him gradually. He had flickers of awareness, and none of them were tempting him further along. For one thing, where was Madam Pomfrey? And uncomfortable though they were, the Hogwarts infirmary beds didn't have lumps this hard. Or… gritty? And to her credit, Madam Pomfrey did a much better job with the whole pain management program. So this wasn't Hogwarts, and Harry wasn't waking up until it was, thank you. So there.
"Ow!" Except all of a sudden now he found himself attempting to sit up, eyes wide open, looking for a weapon. Something deadly. But he was in a… cave? With rain streaming down outside the opening. Caves in the Forbidden Forest were not good. Caves had spiders in them. BIG spiders. Big, hungry spiders that could talk.
"Ow!" This, however, was not a spider. It was something worse. It was Malfoy, stabbing away with his wand at the arrow still sticking through Harry's upper arm and into his chest. And Mother of Merlin but that hurt.
"Will you quit it with that already? The word you're looking for is Crucio. Say it with me. Cruuuucciiioooo. Swish and flick." said Harry through gritted teeth.
"And I said no whimpering. No whining. No 'ow'ing."
"Then keep your effing wand to yourself."
"They're poisoned, you know. Centaur arrows. Slow acting. It causes muscle spasms throughout the body that ultimately lead to death by strangulation."
"You actually listen to Snape, then? I always thought he just gave you O's for being such a Slytherin."
"Believe it or not, I earned them. Lucky for you I did. Lucky for you that the Forbidden Forest is full of obscure potion ingredients. I can't make the full antidote, but I made something that should get you to last long enough to make it back to Hogwarts."
"Which you would do because…"
Because this is, after all, the ferret. His father is Voldemort's left hand man. He's done nothing but ooze darkness for the six years Harry's known him. If the world were not tilting on its known axis, he'd be casting the dark mark in neon sparks to make sure Voldemort had the exact coordinates of Harry's demise. So what was up?
"Because at the moment, Scarhead, it seems to be in my best personal interest to keep you alive. If things change, I promise you'll be the first to know."
Harry slowly became aware that there was a small enchanted fire near the front of the cave heating a bowl of sorts crudely blasted from stone, the contents of which emitted a faintly greenish misting of steam. His eyes traveled from the potion to its maker. Draco Malfoy? Nope. No way. Voldemort himself couldn't make him take so much as a sip of that.
"Sit up." Draco told him.
Harry cautiously levered himself into a more upright position using his good arm.
"First things first. If we're going to make it out of here alive we need to free up your wand arm." Draco examined the feathered end of the arrow, running a finger backwards and forwards along the fletches.
"Nice workmanship?" Harry asked through gritted teeth, mainly to keep on breathing. Malfoy was enjoying this, he had to be.
"The best. Really know how to make an arrow, those centaurs. Pity for you though," Draco told him. His silvery grey eyes glittered. Like a snake, but not. Harry mused. Something else. Something else that hypnotizes its prey. He's not a ferret, Harry thought distractedly. He's a mongoose. Wait, don't they eat snakes? Okay, it was official. He was losing his mind now.
Draco grasped the tail of the arrow in one hand and Harry's elbow in the other. He quickly bent the shaft of the arrow until it cracked just above the skin and broke free, then pulled Harry's arm hard up and away from his side. It came free of the remains of the shaft with a sickening squelch. Harry felt as if he were falling. Sounds were echoing, images spinning dizzily before his eyes. His stomach heaved, but it had been so long since he had eaten now there was nothing to lose. He was faintly aware of Draco pouring some of the heated potion into the wound, tearing off the tail of Harry's shirt and binding it around his arm with his own green Slytherin tie. He had never known pain quite like this before, coursing through his veins like consuming fire. There was no one to fight, nothing to push against, no presence to throw off. He tried to interest himself in keeping the extent of it from Malfoy (he'll tell the whole school you cried!) and found he didn't really care. There was one thing he wanted, only one thing that could make this bearable.
Hermione! his mind seemed to scream. The cave was deathly quiet but for the crackling fire. Draco was pouring more of the potion over the wound where the head of the arrow was buried in Harry's side.
"This has got to come out as well."
Oh, Merlin, not again….
Hermione, oh, damn, Hermione…Think! Nothing else matters.
Almost as if he could hear inside Harry's head, Draco said, "She's alright, you know. The Mudblood. She's at the castle. She was always at the castle. They were having you on."
Harry felt sweet relief take him like a waterfall over the edge of consciousness.
Draco grimly dug the remains of the arrowhead from his side.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
This time he wasn't expecting comfort and there was no momentary hope of opening his eyes to find the Hogwarts infirmary. He could still hear the sounds of a torrential downpour from the open mouth of the cave. A sudden crackling BOOM of thunder jolted almost directly overhead.
His mouth and throat felt parched, as if it had been days rather than hours since that shattered glass of pumpkin juice. The cascading rain outside was like torture, an abundance of the very thing he craved just out of reach. He groaned softly and rolled to his good side, trying to push himself upright. His arm felt shaky beneath him, the muscles quivering as if they had just finished a punishing Quidditch practice. He was out of breath and tried to inhale, suddenly conscious of the sharp, tearing pain beneath his right arm. He looked down and saw that most of the rest of his school shirt had been torn off and wound tightly into a makeshift bandage. Ouch.
His new, semi-upright position brought more of his surroundings into view. Malfoy was sitting with his back propped against the wall of the cave, about halfway between Harry and the rain-curtained opening. He had both Harry's wand and his own and was absent-mindedly drumming with them on his extended legs. He appeared to be watching the rain outside, and Harry wondered if surprise would offset the rest of his obvious disadvantages and allow him to retrieve his wand.
"Welcome back, Potter." Malfoy said, without turning.
Guess not.
"How are you feeling?"
Harry's eyes narrowed while he considered possible answers. Really stupid? Royally pissed off? Still not quite ready for your red-eyed friend yet?
"Alive," he said finally. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, hoarse and unfamiliar. "Accio wand."
His wand shot out of Malfoy's hand and back into his own like a… well, like an arrow. Which had been a major miscalculation on Harry's part, because it homed in on his usual right hand, not his uninjured left as he had vaguely intended. The smack against his palm, usually a small familiar sting, sent shockwaves of pain up his arm that made him more than a little nauseous and slightly dizzy. He shook his head like a wet dog, attempting to clear it.
Draco grinned, and Harry knew he was trying not to laugh. Okay, so it was a pointless move. So what. If Draco really wanted Harry's wand there was very little that Harry in his current state could do to stop him… but there was still something deeply disturbing to Harry about the sight of it in Malfoy's hands.
"What did you mean before, about it being in your best interest for me to be alive," Harry croaked. "Since when?"
His nemesis made a pained face and scooted forward onto his knees toward the fire, retrieved something that appeared to be a fist-sized rock, then moved to the mouth of cave and thrust it out into the downpour. After several more moments, Draco turned and came back toward Harry, balancing the object before him.
Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin, it was water; the stone had been blasted out in the center like a cup and contained several inches of rainwater. Harry felt the tip of his tongue run over his split lip before he could stop it. It had been a long time since he'd wanted anything as badly as he wanted that water. Hermione was the only thing that came to mind. So, was Malfoy going to spill it out in front of him? Splash him with it? Please, let him splash my face, please let him go for my face… No? Make him beg, then. Okay, I could probably handle that about now. Please, oh exalted heir to the henchman of the heir of Slytherin, you guys may be a little evil, but hey… so's the Minister of Magic these days!!
"Drink up. You sound like shit. It hurts me to listen." Draco extended the rock towards Harry's left hand. Harry took it hesitantly, still expecting an Uncle Vernon type maneuver, the sucker punch at the last minute that would spill the contents into his lap. Nothing. Amazing… He raised it to his lips and felt his eyes close involuntarily as he drank, still waiting for the punch, or at least the punch line of this strange joke. The cool water swirled through his mouth and trickled down his raw throat. He opened his eyes again only when the rock was empty.
"More?"
It cost Harry a lot to shake his head no, but he wanted - needed - to hear the answer to his question first, "What did you mean?"
Draco's face, so often an easy-reader in the art of malice, seemed to shift gears slightly from the usual actively menacing to guarded and impassive.
"Exactly what I said. For the moment, at least, I actually need you to be alive." Draco smiled the cold, enigmatic smile Harry knew so well, a cross between a sneer and a grimace. "But before you get too sentimental, Potter, let me inform you that the key words here are need and alive. I'll do my best to counteract enough of the centaur's poison to keep you that way. I don't particularly care if it hurts, and I have a very low tolerance for whining. I also bore easily, particularly when it comes to Muggles and mudbloods and the welfare of house elves. You dream loudly. Work on it."
Draco stood up, his lean height hunched by the confines of the caves' roof, and moved to the fire. Harry watched as he used another hollowed rock to remove more of the green potion from the steaming bowl.
"I saw that look on your face when I asked how you were feeling," he continued. "Don't fool yourself. I frankly couldn't give a toss what's going through that excuse for a mind you use. I need to know how far the poison has progressed. We stand our best shot of getting out of here alive if we stay undetected until morning and head back then."
"You always were scared of the dark, Malfoy." Harry snarled. "Isn't that a bit of an occupational hazard for a Death Eater?"
"I'm not the one full of centaur poison, am I? Anyone but your typical Gryffindor with more stones than brains is afraid of this effing forest at night, you half wit. You wouldn't have caught me crashing off through the underbrush after dinner hour looking for Pansy."
"Even I wouldn't have gone in here after her." Harry retorted, although a small portion of his brain questioned this even as he did. Would he actually let even Pansy Parkinson spend the night tied to a tree in the Forbidden Forest? Without trying to help? No. He'd have reported it to McGonagall or Snape and let them handle it. This was, of course, technically what he should have done about Hermione as well.
"For future reference, Potter, one; I am not, in fact, a Death Eater and two; it's a tactical error to insult the assumed girlfriend of the person who's about to apply potion to your open wound," Draco told him softly, and the look in those silvery eyes made Harry's stomach clench. He tried to lift his wand, and the pain brought tears to his eyes. He switched to his left hand.
"Stay away from me, Malfoy."
"If I do, Potter, you'll die. Strangulation is not a pleasant way to go… or so I've heard."
I don't feel like I'm strangling yet. I don't feel like strangling anything but you. Harry thought.
Unfortunately, he also knew that whatever else he felt; he wasn't strong enough to reach the castle on his own. Malfoy began untying the green and silver school tie that bound the wrapping to Harry's injured arm. The makeshift bandage was fairly well soaked with blood and after wiping at the wound with it he threw it into the darkness at the back of the cave.
"Give me the rest of your shirt, Potter."
Harry unbuttoned the one remaining button and pulled what was left of the white school shirt from his good shoulder. There was the sleeve and about half of the front side left to work with. He sensed that Draco was trying to use as little magic as possible to avoid being detected, but if that last bit was anything to go by he'd bleed to death before the centaur poison got him. He wished he hadn't thrown off his robes by Hagrid's hut. Unless Hagrid found them, and came looking for him… Hagrid wouldn't mind coming into the forest at night - he did it all the time. Please, Hagrid.
Despite his proclaimed enjoyment of the concept of Harry-in-pain, Harry reflected that Draco seemed to have a little more difficulty with the actual follow-through. He appeared both discomforted by the state of Harry's shoulder and undecided how best to apply the potion to it. The trickle of the green liquid into the entry wound on the outside of his bicep stung sharply and he jerked back involuntarily, knocking the cup from Malfoy's hands.
"Hold still. It's got to get in there, the hole goes right through." Draco hissed, wiping up the spilt potion.
Harry closed his eyes and tried to be somewhere, anywhere else. He let his mind wander, hearing faintly some probably very unmanly whimpering sounds that he knew must be his own, and some increasingly un-upper-class swearing from Malfoy as he worked.
He tried to picture Hermione safe in the castle, wondered what she was doing now. Studying in front of the fire in the squashy red and gold armchair, the one that almost seemed to embrace her while she read. Harry'd actually reflected on what it would be like to BE that chair before, he'd spent enough time sitting at the foot of it. He pictured the familiar glow of the firelight on her hair, watched as her front teeth trapped her lower lip as she read.
Suddenly her lovely brown eyes gleamed with an emotion he couldn't place and turned from the book to meet his. "Harry," she said, "you have to read this. Look!" He rose to his knees before her and she turned the book so they could both see the page she was indicating. She was so close he could feel her warm breath against his neck as he read what appeared to be a handwritten note to the text. It said, HARRY YOU USELESS PRAT! IF IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND YOU'VE GONE MISSING IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST DO YOU REALLY THINK I'D BE SITTING HERE PEACEFULLY STUDYING IN FRONT OF THE FIRE???
So much for my happy place, he thought. Occlumency was no defense against a guilty conscience cloaked as an enraged Hermione. Things still weren't very welcoming back in the real world from the sound of it, either. Nice mouth, Malfoy. He felt a cold shudder run down his spine. But it's warm in the here, in fact it's hot…and a strangely vivid vision crashed over him like a wave.
There was Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, scurrying along like the rat he was, although he was in his wizard form this night. Harry was following him, but he wasn't Harry. There was no pain in this body. The heart in this body barely beat, and there seemed to be rather long periods when breathing was almost unnecessary. He was very cold. There was a feeling of great latent power but no way to access it, like a powerful bomb without a flame to light the fuse. Frustration and weakness warred within him.
Oh, not now. Not again. Please.
He knew only too well who he was.
They were walking somewhere unfamiliar to Harry, although he got the sense it was not so to Wormtail. There was a large, imposing house, very old and beautiful in a way, but faintly evil as well. All was quiet, the inhabitants probably sleeping, except for a light in one downstairs window. Wormtail crept past the formal front doors and along a stone path that led past the lighted window and around the side of the building, where French doors spilled light from the same room out onto a stone terrace. Harry watched as Wormtail turned aside, looking back at him with obsequious eyes. He knew somehow that it was he who had gotten them this far, only he that could force the powerful wards protecting this house. He saw a wand raised before his eyes; heard a terse hiss of a spell. The doorframe splintered and the glass panes gave way with a resounding crash..
Wormtail pushed open the shattered doors and stepped aside.
"My Lord, I…" Harry heard someone say inside. He stepped into the room and saw Lucius Malfoy's startled face through Voldemort's slitted eyes.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
A sharp, stinging slap brought Harry back to his own body - or thrust Voldemort out of his mind. He heard a suddenly stifled keening sound and guessed that he had been the source.
Sweet Merlin, by all that's remotely magically possible, I want out too! Harry thought bitterly. Who the bloody hell would want to see the world through MY eyes now? This really, really hurts.
"Would you shut the hell up, Potter? Why don't you just whinny a mating call to every centaur in the forest already, you couldn't make it any plainer where we are!" Malfoy snarled at him, and clamped a hand down over Harry's mouth.
He had a faint flash of panic as he suddenly had to struggle to breath, bared his teeth and bit down hard.
He heard Malfoy's muffled shriek and felt the hand fly off his mouth, gasped in air desperately and fought to fill his contracting lungs. Okay, so the centaurs' poison thing was probably true. Fine time to turn up right for once, slither-brain!
Malfoy pushed him down hard against the floor of the cave and trapped Harry's good arm under his knee, grinding it into the stone. The bitten hand grasped the base of Harry's throat; the other pointed his wand directly at the zipper of Harry's jeans.
"Make one more move like that, you ungrateful little mudblood loving fuck and I WILL rid the world of Potter-kind for all time," he snarled. "You really can be the last."
"I don't think so," said a soft voice from the mouth of the cave, "unless you've decided to put an end to the illustrious House of Malfoy as well."
A disembodied, wand-bearing arm moved deeper into the cave and Harry's invisibility cloak slipped off to reveal Hermione. A beautiful, soaking wet Hermione, eyes flashing like an offended Valkyrie.
"Get off him, you twisted little blood snob," she said, wand trained on Malfoy in a roughly similar location.
"Go ahead. Granger. Make my day. Hex it off. It won't make much difference to me if Potter doesn't shut up. The centaurs will just have to battle the Death Eaters to see who gets first dibs on the three of us."
"Stupif…" began Hermione.
"Petrif…" started Draco.
"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!" thought Harry desperately with everything he had.
Neither finished their spell. Hermione and Draco's wands jerked from their hands and fell with a clatter to the floor of the cave, close by their respective owner's feet. Both visibly started and narrowed their eyes at the other as they reached down.
"What was…?"
"What did you…?"
"Not me…"
"I didn't…"
Harry was still struggling to breathe; air seemed to be finding its way into his lungs now but it was like trying to inflate a too-small balloon. Dumbledore's wand less magic lessons must have finally taken some hold. At least he'd managed to distract the two momentarily, even if their wands were lying right at their own feet. Hermione had never appeared scarier, or more glorious. Please let him not die just yet.
"Don't," he managed to rasp out.
"Harry?" Hermione queried softly. She clearly wanted to move to where he lay but needed to assess the situation first. Clever Hermione. She never ran first and came up with a plan after.
"Harry?" she asked again, more urgently this time. Her eyes were taking in the blood soaked shirt bound with the Slytherin tie and the fact he wasn't exactly leaping to his feet and putting two and two together. She didn't look happy, either.
Potter, a suddenly clear voice said inside his head, if this is going to go any further you need a plan. Better late than never, right? Step one, you need Malfoy to finish dosing you up with that bloody potion of his on the off chance it might actually work, buying you time to tell Hermione that she is the most beautiful witch in existence and that you are never, ever going to do anything this stupid again. So, step two, you need to tell Hermione that Malfoy was not in fact the one who shot an arrow through your arm or else she won't let him anywhere near you, in which case you'll probably die here choking in your own spit. Step three… hell, you can tell Malfoy about Voldemort's house call to Lucius later. There's nothing you can do about it now and neither can he, even if he wants too. Okay, so, Step one, tell Hermione about…
"Gah," said Harry. He could feel the muscles in his throat spasm, his tongue tightening against the roof of his mouth.
Okay, Plan B. This is the part where she looks into your eyes and sees how much you love her and begins to read your mind or hear your thoughts or… something. Hello! Harry to Hermione - leave the wand and let Slimey the Slytherin get back to work before I die here, okay? Please?
Hermione abruptly crossed the distance between them and dropped to her knees beside Harry.
Whoa… does this really work? Hermione, I could pass on the whole rib crushing hug thing, but I bet you could kiss it all better in no time, honestly…
Her eyes flickered over him and then on to Malfoy and the rest of the cave.
Rats.
"Let me guess… you, Harry, ran off half-cocked into the forbidden forest at nightfall and met a…" she picked up the broken shaft of the arrow from the floor of the cave where Draco had tossed it, examining it for a moment, "centaur? Oh, but Harry, centaurs' arrows are really poisonous, they're deadly!" He saw the sudden flicker of fear in her eyes as she turned to Malfoy, and pointed at the potion. "What's in that?"
Malfoy listed ingredients, and Harry could almost see her mixing them together in her mind.
"That should be alright..." she murmured.
Harry felt himself give a sudden, involuntary shudder, almost like a shiver, that seemed to squeeze his contracted lungs even tighter. His eyes sought hers. Hermione, please…
Her hands swiftly began untying the remaining bandage around his chest. "I'll do it, Malfoy. Bring it here."
It didn't really hurt any less when Hermione applied the steaming green liquid to the wound beneath his arm - in fact, it still hurt like hell - but Harry found he somehow minded a lot less. He also found it extremely amusing to see her order Malfoy around and to watch him, however grudgingly, acquiesce. When she had cleaned the wound and saturated it with as much of the potion as she could manage she soaked a small wad of cloth, positioned it over the gash and motioned to Draco. "Give me your shirt."
"My what? Forget it, Granger. I'm not ruining a perfectly good shirt on Potter! Use your own."
"Mine is soaking wet, as if you hadn't noticed. Don't hate mudbloods enough not to eye one up, do you? His is already ruined and now it's all bloody as well. We need a fresh bandage over this."
Hey! Eying who up? Keep your sick silver eyes off Hermione, you… dungeon-dwelling snake…
"He's already bled all over my tie," Draco grumbled, fingers reluctantly moving to his buttons. "This is one of my favorites, it's monogrammed."
"You can afford more. Just do it already."
He pulled it off and passed it to her. Harry noticed he didn't seem quite so Slytherin-sleek and menacing stripped of his shirt. The luminescent white of his skin actually made him appear almost… vulnerable? Out from under his rock, certainly.
"Ever met the sun, Draco? It's that big warm yellow thing in the sky during daytime." Hermione said, tearing the shirt apart.
Go Hermione! Harry silently cheered.
"Ever met a brush, Granger? It's what the rest of us use to keep our hair from looking like yours," Malfoy rejoined.
"Ha, Ha. So amusing. Help me sit him up so I can get this around his back as well."
Her hands felt gentle and cool wrapping the bandage around him. It still wasn't the Hospital Wing, but Harry reckoned he felt as close to good as he was going to get anytime soon. When she had tied it off in a firm knot Hermione sank down beside him. He noticed that she really was very wet. He shifted slightly so that his head was closer to her knee and her hair dripped onto his forehead, running slowly down into his eyes. She pulled it back into a ponytail with her hands and wrung it out behind her, then used the tip of her finger to wipe the water from his lashes. He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly at peace. Hermione's here. There was a moment of quiet, only the sound of the rain washing over the front opening of the cave.
Wait a minute… how come Hermione's here? His eyes flew open again and met hers looking down at him. She seemed to understand the question in his, because she said softly, "I heard you screaming Harry. I was in the Common Room and we were looking for you on the map when all of a sudden I could just hear you inside my head. It was the strangest thing. Ron said he couldn't hear anything, but I was so sure I heard you. You were just saying my name, over and over again." She turned from Harry to Malfoy.
"Ron said Crabbe and Goyle bumped into Harry in the Great Hall and a few minutes later he just got up and ran from the table without a word. Know anything about this, Draco?"
Harry heard what sounded like the scratch of parchment unfolding, and saw Malfoy holding what looked to be Crabbe and Goyles' cartoon.
Malfoy sighed and shook his head. "Cretinous imbeciles. Crabbe's always wanted to do something like this. It's just embarrassing, frankly. I can't believe you two actually thought I had anything to do with it."
"How silly of us, Draco. It's so unlike you to taunt Harry."
"If I had been involved in this, you would have actually BEEN in the forest, you would have been yelling 'scar head, my scar head, wherefore art thou scar head!' and it would have been SPELLED correctly."
"An educated Death Eater is still, Malfoy, a Death Eater. Punctuation and grammar don't change the leopard's spots. A high class whore just costs more."
Erm… Hermione?
"I sit before you shirtless, Granger, thanks to your bloody boyfriend over there. Spot the dark mark anywhere? Anywhere at all? My father is a Death Eater. I am not. Nor am I going to be. So you can trot that little bit of information back to your other red-headed friend."
Why would Ron care about Draco Malfoy's post-Hogwarts career choice? Uh oh, wait a minute, was THAT why Voldemort took a field trip to the Malfoys tonight?
There was a moment of silence and then Hermione said slowly, "I really can not in good conscience play messenger for you two again. If this thing between you is going to survive you're going to have to make it on your own. I won't try and stop you, but it just feels… wrong."
WHAT?
So much for dying in peace. Five minutes was too much to ask for, just to enjoy her nearness in silence unbroken by the sound of MORE crap he didn't understand?
He struggled back up, bracing his weight on the elbow of his good arm. "What… are… you… saying?" he rasped out against the constriction in his throat. "Wahh ggart sa?' was what he heard. Okay then, Harry! Clear as mud, that. You sound like Ron in the middle of a particularly good breakfast.
Hermione visibly winced at the sound of his voice. In more ways then one, he was sure. There was something going on here that he didn't understand, something both she and Malfoy did. How unpleasant an image was that?
She handed Draco the stone cup. "Get him some water, please."
"He'll only choke on it."
"Just do it, for Merlin's sake. Must you argue about every little thing?"
They were starting to sound a bit like Hermione and Ron. Noooooooo!!
He thought she might explain while Malfoy took the hollowed stone to the mouth of the cave, but she only worked her fingers under his fringe to feel for fever. "Harry, you've got to lie back down."
He let his eyes bore into hers with a look that would not be ignored. She rolled hers and sighed.
Malfoy brought back another cup full of rain water. Hermione pulled her school shirt free of the waistband of her skirt and ripped a piece from the bottom. She soaked it in the water and turned to Harry. "Open."
He was puzzled for a moment and then caught her idea. She carefully placed the scrap between his lips and he sucked the water from it, feeling the cool wetness against his tongue. She continued to patiently soak the cloth and place it into his mouth again and again until he managed to swallow. He watched her watching him, smiling and encouraging. She had never appeared more heart-snaringly precious, more completely and totally desirable. More truly determined to distract his attention.
"What… about?" he managed.
Hermione turned to Draco. He was standing just behind her, watching them both.
"It's your secret to tell."
Harry watched the play of emotions wash across his features. Distrust, frustration, defiance and a flicker of fear battled with something Harry had never seen before on Malfoys' face. The indefinable won and it looked so out of place on Malfoy's countenance that for a moment Harry scarcely recognized him.
"I'm in the midst of a little family argument, if you must know, Potter. It's the big seventeen coming up this year, time to get my apparition license and take up the hood." He laughed bitterly. "I was born in the shadow of the Dark Lord, too, you know. My whole life, it's always been the Dark Lord said this, if it wasn't for the Dark Lord taking care of that. 'Clean your plate, Draco, or the Dark Lord will let the Dementors give you your good night kiss.' Our first year at Hogwarts, I chalked you up to beginners luck. You'd been raised by Muggles, for Merlin's sake, you didn't really know what you were up against! But it worked for you. Maybe old Fumblemore really has a plan. Whatever. You survived. And despite remaining completely clueless of the rules of the game, you somehow keep ON surviving. It's enough to make one think…If Harry Bloody Potter can go on evading the inevitable, what could someone with an actual plan manage? I've never liked the idea of serving Voldemort; it's just always seemed to be a choice between that or a quick Crucio and hello, green light of death. And then even the sorting hat started in with its' two cents and it began to occur to me that there might actually be other…possibilities."
Holy hell… who'd've thought he'd ever feel kind of bad for Draco Malfoy? As much as he disliked the visibility of his own position, he had to admit that if Malfoy chose to stray from the family path he'd be under a pretty unenviable spotlight on several fronts as well.
"Go on," said Hermione. "There's more."
"Gods, what a nag you are. How do you stand it, Potter?"
"Do what… she wants," Harry managed to choke out. Draco gave sharp bark of laughter. Hermione looked like she wanted to smack Harry, but didn't have the heart.
"Further complicating my erm… indecision, is the unforeseen fact that I seem to find myself, well having, erm… a relationship of sorts with… with… well, with Ginny Weasley. And I've come to realize that I don't actually want to end it. Quite the reverse, in fact. Puts the whole Death Eater issue completely in question."
"To say the least," Hermione said. "To be honest, I can't see there's much to choose from between Voldemort and the brothers Weasley when they find out, though."
"At least the brothers Weasley might be worth it. The Dark Lord's fringe benefits simply can't hold a candle to Ginny's."
Harry was still stuck back at, 'having, erm… a relationship of sorts with… with… well, with Ginny Weasley'.
"My father was furious. About the Death Eater decision, I mean. Obviously he doesn't know anything about the, um, rest of it. You think your life is hell, Potter. I'm meant to be marrying Pansy, you know. It's been arranged since last summer, at least between her father and mine. No one bothered to ask me. More important than ever to keep the blood pure, you know. You may not have had parents, but trust me, that can have two sides as well. No one's running your life for you. My Father will kill me himself rather than see me shame the Malfoy name, and it won't be a merciful Avada Kedavra, I assure you. Crabbe and Goyle keep begging for a look at the mark, they can't wait to get theirs. Pansy's been trying to run her hand up my sleeve all week. I was pretty much at the point of no return anyway when I saw Goyle knock into you in the Great Hall and watched you take off. Ginny still adores you for some unfathomable reason, Potter. If I'm going to get myself disinherited and moved up to a notch or two below you on the Death Eater hit list, I figured I couldn't blow it on all fronts."
So Draco Malfoy is trying to keep me alive to impress Ginny Weasley? Harry felt himself start to laugh, something of a bad move in his current respiratory state. The laughter turned to coughing, the coughing to gasping for air. Hermione tried to get him to lie down again but that only heightened the sense of drowning and he fought her to stay upright. She rubbed his back gently and he tried to focus on the soothing movement of her hand, fighting reflexive panic. His mind jumped to the feeling he had experienced in his vision of Voldemort's body; the slow reptilian heartbeat. It seemed to work; he felt as if his own body recognized the feeling and deliberately measured the thudding of his over-worked heart, slowly easing the constriction of his lungs. He lay back in shaky relief, nestling unashamedly closer against Hermione and closing his eyes as her arms steadied him. Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley. Mother of Merlin, who'd seen that coming? The end time truly must be near…
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>