Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Chapter 5 has arrived! I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks again to those of you who take the time to review, it really makes my day and encourages me to keep posting. It's always really interesting to hear where you think things are headed as well. Without further ado…

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CHAPTER 5: My Enemy's Enemy

"What did he say to you?" Ron asked as soon as he and Hermione had left the aurors' headquarters.

"He said that I need to be careful because he doesn't think Malfoy is guilty. Malfoy told Harry that he was trying to discover who had killed his parents. They were both looking for the same culprit, and their paths crossed."

"And Harry believes him?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"He seemed fairly certain. Harry has become very good at reading people, and I have to think he's right. Which means that if whoever was killing the Death Eaters is still out there, and if that person is the same one who threatened me, I am still far from safe."

"Why did he need to whisper it?"

Hermione paused for a moment, and then to Ron's great surprise, she began to laugh. "He didn't want Draco Malfoy to hear him. Even with all that's going on, he couldn't bear to think that he was helping Malfoy in any way."

Ron smiled smugly. "Well, some things never change." They took a sharp turn down a corridor Ron had never seen in the ministry. "Where are we going?"

"The library of course" she responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes and followed along.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Draco Malfoy needed to think carefully. While there were many things he had failed at in his youth, calculated thinking had never been one of them. Lucius had taught him that life was like a chess match, and you always needed to be several steps ahead. Of course, Lucius' greatest fault had been his pride, and too often he underestimated his opponent. Draco was very considerate of this fact as he determined what to do about what he was currently calling "The Harry Potter Situation".

Draco wanted to escape; no more than that- he needed to escape. He was certain that if redemption existed, it would only come through finding the truth about his parents' killer. And he could not seek the truth from behind locked bars. It was clear that Harry had the ability to destroy the entire cell. In fact, there were very thin cracks running through the wall on Draco's side now. If he could get Harry angry once more, if he could use that power to tear down the walls, he could escape.

But there was a fatal flaw to that plan. Once the walls had fallen, there would be an angry Harry and a wandless Draco left standing. Harry would need to calm himself, and fast or else Draco would surely end up a bloody splatter on these ugly concrete surroundings. Draco paced rapidly as he thought, and he felt himself shake slightly with a mixture of anger and disgust as the reality of the solution became apparent. Draco would not be able to anger the sleeping beast in Harry Potter and then skip away to sweet freedom... at least, not unless they were able to work together.

Work with Potter? Draco pondered, a sick feeling coming over him. I need to ignore my damned pride he tried to convince himself. It wasn't easy though. Harry Potter was everything Draco detested, and worse yet, he was a reminder of everything Draco hated in himself. Draco had forced himself to overcome much, but this felt like the tipping point. Stay in prison and rot, or find the truth with Potter. He weighed his options.

When Draco finally spoke, the day was quite old and many hours had passed. The sun had come and gone, and once more the two young men were in the darkness, each being tormented by their own demons. "Potter, I have a proposition for you."

"No" was Harry's simple response.

"You haven't even heard it yet" Draco said with mild irritation. Thick-headedness from the Boy Who Lived was not entirely unexpected.

"I don't want to talk to you Malfoy. I promised my friends that I would hold on as long as possible, and something about you really makes me lose it."

"Funny enough, you're not the first one to tell me that. Usually, it's a girl saying such kinky things but I'll take the compliment nonetheless." There was no response from the other cell. "Listen, you say you made a promise to your friends, but it's not one you can keep. Not without help."

"Oh, and you're offering to help me?" Harry asked, his voice ripe with sarcasm.

"I am willing to make an exchange of favors. I will help you with your... condition, and you will spring me from this cell."

"What do you know about my `condition'?"

"More than you might think. It would seem that fate, being the cruel bitch she is, has decided our paths must cross. And so we find ourselves in a predicament, which I am not afraid to say neither of us likes. But I know exactly what has happened to you, because I have read about it. And I dare say, none of your friends will have access to the book I read."

"Don't be so cocky Malfoy. They have access to quite a lot of resources, the days of the Hogwarts Library are far in the past."

"Oh is that so? You think they have a copy of Tom Riddle's diary?"

Harry's blood froze. "I destroyed it" Harry said, remembering piercing the black binding with the basilisk tooth, and ink running from its pages like dark blood.

"Yes, yes, I recall all that. My father was quite furious. But as you said yourself Potter, Voldemort did love to talk about himself."

"He had another journal" Harry said slowly, running to the bars as he realized that there may be some hope behind Draco's words.

"He had another journal" Draco echoed, a smirk on his lips. "And if you want to know what it has to do with your current state, then you are going to have to make me a promise. A promise that you will never, ever, be able to break."

"Very well. But before we do this, you need to tell me everything. From the beginning."

Draco had hoped that Potter wouldn't say this, but he had half expected it. He sat down on his cot, and made himself comfortable as he prepared to tell a long story.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Malfoy family had retreated back into the dark walls of Malfoy Manor. Inevitably they were tried as Death Eaters, but they were pardoned because they had defected in the end. Additionally, Narcissa and Lucius had expounded quite a bit of their knowledge to the aurors. Only Draco had remained silent throughout, refusing to speak to anyone.

It wasn't because Draco still had allegiances to the Dark Lord. In fact, in those days after the war ended, if there was one person he hated more than Harry Potter it was Voldemort. He hated the way he had made his once proud parents beg and crawl. He hated how he had instilled such fear in Draco that he had made him a spineless coward, and a man without any convictions to live by. Everything Draco had done had been purely out of fear, and once that fear was gone there was just a hollow, useless shell of a man.

And so Draco retreated from the public. While his parents refused to accept their shame and paraded about the wizarding world trying to reclaim their blood right to importance, Draco simply sat watching the gardens change, and he rarely spoke. He began to read countless books, and along the way he gained much knowledge. But he felt he could never be redeemed for his cowardice. He felt disgusted by his parents, whom he had once adored, and even their presence was no consolation to him. Reading books was the only way to pass the endless stream of seconds in the years that followed.

It all abruptly changed in a single night. Draco had been restlessly wandering the rows of the prestigious Malfoy Manor Library when he heard footsteps enter the room. His parents closed the door and he heard them talking in hurried whispers. "I tell you, someone is in the house" Narcissa hissed.

"Impossible, the ward would have gone off. You must have just heard Draco..."

"The sound came from the yard! What would Draco be doing out there?"

"Flying?" Lucius said, his tone growing louder with annoyance. "Honestly, what are you on about, I haven't seen you act this foolish since--" he stopped short. There were footsteps in the hallways now. "Draco?" Lucius called out, trying to sound imperious, but there was a nervousness in his voice.

"I'm here Father" Draco said, stepping from behind the books. Narcissa shrieked, but both Draco and Lucius grabbed their wands. Draco tried to step forward towards the door, but Narcissa through herself in front of him, wailing.

"Hide yourself Draco, please. I don't know who they are, but they don't want you. Just hide!"

Draco was about to push her aside but there was a look in his father's eyes he had never seen before. Lucius had never told Draco he loved him, never hugged him or tucked him in at night. At most there was the rigid and almost aggressive pat on the back, the sort that said "good work, but never think I would settle for anything less".

Now however, Lucius had a look of protectiveness in his eyes. An emotion Draco would never imagine his father capable of, and Draco would never forget the look in his eyes, nor his final words. "Run."

Draco turned, and he would never know if it was from cowardice, or out of a sense that this would be his parents' final wish. He found his way through the maze of books, and ducked down low, still clutching his wand. He heard the door break open and the voice of a man speak. "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, you are being exterminated as a result of knowledge imparted on you by Tom Riddle. This is part of a cleansing process."

The words were rigid, automatic and robotic. It was like the man was saying, "You have been selected to participate in a survey of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans". But before his parents could even react, there was a swift chopping noise, and the sickeningly distinct sound of flesh and bone being cut. Then the sound of footsteps faded away once more.

Every night since then Draco had nightmares of finding their corpses. Lucius and Narcissa both lying unmoving, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Their bodies had been slashed open at a diagonal angle from shoulder to hip. The cut was so deep he could see every intestine, every organ as their still warm blood poured endless across the smooth marble floors. Draco wanted to weep, but no tears would come. All that emerged was a sick, retching sound, but he did not get sick.

He ran outside, feeling the cold air wake him from what previously seemed like it could only be a nightmare. Almost blindly he found his broomstick and took off into the night.

When he returned the aurors were swarming his home. He pretended not to know what was happening. He didn't want the aurors to know a single thing about what had happened. They had done nothing to save his parents. In fact, he was quite sure they were jovial over the deaths of two known Death Eaters. He allowed Kingsely Shacklebolt to take him aside and explain about the murder. He pretended to become very ill, excusing himself to the bathroom. There he stood as aurors combed every inch of Malfoy Manor, his last refuge and place of safety-- now no longer so. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and tried to think long and hard about what to do next. That was the moment when he knew it was time to stop running and hiding. If he was going to ever stop loathing himself, he would need to make a stand. He would find out who killed his parents, and he would exact revenge.

He pretended to have been out of the house when it all happened. With no evidence or witnesses to the contrary, the aurors had to believe his tale. The bodies were cleared away, and shortly after buried in the Malfoy funeral plot. Once his parents were underground, Draco set to his work.

The Manor had always been haunted, but it felt especially so with the recent gruesome death of his parents. That, and there was the pervasive and never relenting sense of silence in the hallways. Each corridor seemed to judge him, to await his next move as the last Malfoy walked tirelessly through the house, trying to plan his retribution. He covered all the portraits lining the hallways, tired of hearing their cutting words about his duty as the last heir to the Malfoy name.

When he set to action, it was decisive. He started following the aurors, needing to know what they knew. He followed them the night that they found the slayed body of an old man in a field. They did not recognize him, but Draco knew that the man had been a very top-secret informant to Voldemort during the first war. His parents had once shown Draco the picture of the man, who went by the name Gregory Faubert and was deemed a blood traitor when he did not return to serve his master.

The death of Faubert had led Draco to believe that whoever was doing the killing was systematically seeking revenge on traitors of the Dark Lord. But that did not fit with what Draco had heard that awful night his parents had been slayed. Their murderer had delivered their death decree with such calm uncaring. It had not been a man looking to lash out with something as emotional and sticky as revenge. Furthermore, whoever it was, his parents surely did not recognize him or they would have called his name out.

Draco ruled out the killings as being part of a Death Eater's revenge. He made a list of every Death Eater he still knew to live, and decided he would question them. The young ones would clearly be of no use. His parents' killer had mentioned Tom Riddle by name- not Voldemort but Tom Riddle. It seemed as though Riddle had imparted some information on his friends in their youth, something that the killer did not want remembered. Naturally, most of the surviving Death Eaters had never known Tom Riddle before his days as Voldmort.

So Draco created a short list of the few who had known Riddle. There was Antoine Dolohov who was in hiding still, but by the time Draco got to him, he was already dead. As he tried to solve the mystery of his parent's murderer, he went to the books and read everything he could think of.

Whoever was committing the murders used the same curse each time; a curse which resulted in a gory and fatal gash across the body. However, the murderer had not spoken an incantation when Draco was in hiding. Somehow, the spell was done silently. Silent magic was something Draco could find little to nothing on.

He turned instead to Tom Riddle's diary, which had been tucked away safely in Lucius' well hidden safe. After the war had ended, aurors and ministry workers of all sorts combed Malfoy Manor carefully; taking any items they deemed to be dark magic. Some things, however, had been carefully hidden away. The diary was amongst these things, and it became Draco's only hope for finding more information.

Tom Riddle kept a fastidious journal each day, accounting in careful details who he met, where he met them, and most importantly, what he learned. Tom Riddle was a boy with dangerous amounts of pride, and great ambition. Even in his early days he was making plans for power, forming alliances and keeping careful watch over his perceived enemies. However, one day the journal simply stopped. It wasn't an issue of running out of pages (the diary was enchanted to never run out of blank paper), but for whatever reason the diary ended abruptly after a detailed account of killing Hepzibah Smith to create the first horocrux.

More than ever, Draco was drawn in by the mystery of this and could not help but wonder what Tom Riddle had been up to in this time period. Whatever it was, it was clearly so secretive he dare not even write it down. But perhaps, he had been unable to keep from bragging to his friends... perhaps that was why they were being killed off now.

This thought did not come upon Draco easily. He had spent many dark nights following unsuspecting aurors down weaving alleys, trying to find out any little scrap of information. He had spent sleepless nights reading book after book looking for something that may help, trying not think about the blood that had stained the library floor just weeks before. And then there was the issue of controlling his fear, and the loneliness that ate at him day after day. Before his parents had died, he had read many books on learning to control one's mind and emotions. While many would find it hard to imagine, Draco had actually taken to meditating. It wasn't flawless, but Draco could push aside feelings of pride, petty jealousy and rage. He learned to control himself in a way that his own father had failed, and in those days that he walked around the Manor, stalked by ghosts, his training was more important than ever.

Riddle's diary offered very little insight, but there was one key thing it imparted on Draco. A little known fact about werewolf fangs. They could be used to create a sort of involuntary pensieve if extracted. The potion was complex, but nothing beyond his abilities. He went about rounding up the ingredients, and he made a plan to visit his old "friend" Fenrir Greyback in Azkaban.

His visit was undetected of course, and when he had what he wanted he was able to create the potion. Unlike a regular pensieve, you had to drink this potion to gain the memories. This was a most unpleasant experience, and for the first hour Draco experienced no memories but merely felt as though his insides were being torn apart. He had consumed the potion in front of his bedroom fireplace, and the pain was immediate. He fell to the cold marble floor, gasping for breath as fire spread through his insides. He was sure for some time that he had done it all wrong, and he would die there on the floor of Malfoy Manor just as his parents had. He envisioned the aurors coming and finding his cold body, and deciding that he was weak and had chosen suicide to end his pitiful existence.

Of course, he did not die. And after an hour of nearly longing for death, memories began to flutter through his head like hallucinations. There was no order to them, and it took all of Draco's newly acquired skills of not to feel like he was being torn apart. He was sharing one body but two lifetimes, and it was maddening. At times, Fenrir's memories would leap from Draco without warning, and he would feel the werewolf's emotions, or experience his physical senses. Draco was fortunately prepared for this side effect; Riddle had recorded them in his diary. Riddle had no particular reason for discussing the topic; it was more a matter of scholarly interest. Which was not that surprising when one considered that Riddle was an avid scholar of all things nasty and horrific.

Still, Draco made that critical mistake of looking up at the moon the night he had been caught. All of the memories came flooding to him of the moon's power and beauty, of transforming, of running free through the woods and tasting fresh blood from a still beating heart. The memories had caused Draco to howl, and he had been caught.

"And I would say that about brings us to now" Draco finished, stretching his legs as he rose to a standing position.

Harry thought about all that Draco had said, especially his theory on the Death Eater murders being connected to some secret from Riddle's past. Whoever was killing was merciless and powerful, and more than ever Harry felt afraid for Hermione's safety.

"I can teach you how to control your emotions, how to calm your mind" Draco continued in lieu of Harry's silence. He felt uncomfortable and unhappy at having shared such personal information with his lifelong rival, but he knew it would be the only way to convince him. "I am nearly positive that you have Riddle's memories in your mind, just like I have Greyback's in mine."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked, seeing the logic in it but still not accepting it.

"I don't know Potter, maybe you should ask Granger. I'm not a walking, talking, know-it-all encyclopedia. All I know is that you sound exactly like him. I hear Tom Riddle speaking with Fenrir Greyback in my memories, and your voice became his when you spoke to me earlier, even your laugh sounded like his."

"I feel his emotions at times. My anger becomes amplified by his rage, my love becomes tainted by his hate" as Harry said these things out loud, he realized Tom Riddle was in his mind. It made him want to smash his brains out against the wall. Again, he went to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach now.

"Maybe in the final battle, some part of him was imprinted onto you. But it only has as much control as you give it."

"And you think you can teach me to control his memories from interfering with my life?"

"I do" Draco said plainly. "It's something like occlumency; it requires repelling your emotions but there is a bit of a different process to it since these aren't outside attacks-- they come from within."

"Well, it didn't work out so well for you. I saw you howling like a bloody werewolf! No, I don't think you can help me."

"I can, although it won't be easy. You wear your emotions on your sleeve. Like the way you drool over Granger. It's so cute the way you baby talk to her when she's in here sobbing over you like a little girl." Harry said nothing. "Good, you're already learning to be in more control. But don't get all zen on me just yet Potter, I need you to break me out of here."

"I'm guessing you won't teach me from inside these cells?" Harry said, his voice flat and humorless.

"Correct Potter, and there isn't a whole lot of time. Whoever is out there doing these killings is still around. Or, do you still think I'm the killer?"

"No, I don't trust you to be clever enough to come up with such a detailed story." Harry had believed Malfoy long before that, but there was no reason to let ferret boy know. Furthermore, Draco had a valid point; time was probably running low of whatever was evil was stirring. "Let me ask you a question. Did you send Hermione that message?"

"What message?" Draco asked, sighing at how long it was taking Potter to come around. "Actually, let me clarify this. I have never sent Granger any messages in my life. So if you're worried about some love letter, it wasn't from me. It's not my style really, I'm more of a love `em leave `em sort of bloke..."

"It was a death threat" Harry interrupted, not sure why he was sharing this information. "Someone wants her to unseal the Death Eater files."

"Then someone is still very actively seeking to kill Death Eaters" Draco said simply. "So many of us hid after the war, and those who found immunity are especially well hidden thanks to Hermione Granger sealing their documents. For those who were pardoned and who had their information sealed off, nobody will ever find them unless those documents become open. I suppose that's why my parents' murderer has only been able to hit some of the most obvious targets so far. The magical seal Granger used has kept the others protected, kept the killer from being able to find them."

"I know how wizarding seals work thanks" Harry responded dryly.

"In many ways, Hermione Granger has become secret keeper to all the defected Death Eaters. Isn't that ironic?"

Harry had thought as much himself (usually with great agitation) but he did not care to share these thoughts with Draco. Hermione was committed to justice, despite the personal cost. And wasn't that one of the things he loved so much about her? She was a great person, and the best friend a man could ask for. And the thought of her still at risk...

"Okay, I will break us out" Harry finally conceded, earning a dramatic sigh of relief from Draco. "But there needs to be a way you can promise me you will help me control these memories I have from Riddle."

"Yes, we need to make an unbreakable vow" Draco agreed, much to Harry's surprise. "I will promise to help you learn control, if you will vow not to kill me after you destroy everything around us."

"I may not be able to regain control" Harry admitted.

"Then, if you kill me, you will also die. Hence the unbreakable vow. And I know you won't want to lose your own life. Even the Riddle part of you has interest in self preservation."

Harry thought this made some sense. No matter how furious he was, he would not forget the vow, and would not break it. "Alright, let's do this. Only one small matter... no Bonder around to cast the vow."

"It can be done in other ways" Draco said tentatively. "By blood for example."

Harry squirmed at the idea of having Draco's blood touching his own, but at the same time he felt every moment they debated it was a moment they did not have to spare. He grabbed a piece of metal shrapnel from his previous destruction and pushed it down against the flesh of his palm until it bit in, bringing blood springing to the surface. Draco didn't have luxury of a sharp object, and so as he contemplated biting into himself, there was the sound of metal rattling outside of his prison bars. Harry had thrown him the same piece he used to cut himself. It was like a morbid token of good will.

"There's one other thing" Harry said as Draco drew his own blood. "You need to promise me that we will seek out whoever murdered your parents together."

"Absolutely not!" Draco said, fury finding its way past his self-imposed calm.

"I don't like the idea of working with you at all" Harry clarified. "But as you said, fate is a bitch. We both have a similar agenda, and when we leave here we will both be fugitives. I will be considered a danger to society, and you will be considered guilty of murder. The only assets we will have will be from working together."

"I don't need any assets of yours Potter" Draco hissed. "I figured far more out on my own than your sorry little auror brain could decipher."

"You are also the only one we know of who has heard the killer speak. Maybe if you shared that information earlier, we could have already found the culprit."

Draco pondered this as he watched the blood drip from the open wound on his hand. He did not expect Potter to want to join him in his very personal mission. He certainly didn't trust the thick-headed, overly confident Gryffindor. Especially now that he had shadows of Tom Riddle's memories bouncing around in his scarred noggin. Draco had planned to take Potter to one of the old Death Eater hideaways, to teach him to control his emotions, and then to split ways for good.

"This isn't about you for once Potter. You aren't coming with me."

"We're going to keep running into each other either way. It doesn't mean I trust you in any way, or respect you, but that fact of the matter is I am not letting off this case. I won't stop searching until--" he stopped abruptly, not wanting to divulge any more personal information.

He needn't say more however. You won't stop until Granger is safe Draco thought with irritation, and something more, but he wouldn't address that just yet and pushed it to the back of his mind. An unbreakable vow would force them to stay by each others' side until the very end, something which he was quite sure Potter hadn't clearly thought out, and he voiced this major hole in the plan.

Harry was not deterred, despite Malfoy's wisdom. "I know; we will be stuck together. We won't have to trust each other; the vow will force us to stay on the same course without giving the other one away. Let's be honest, if we run into each other a month down the road, and we are still chasing the same shadows, what promise is there that we won't try to attack each other? You are a worm Malfoy, I've known it since we were children. But right now, I need to put keeping people safe before my dislike for you."

"Of that famous Potter selflessness!" Draco laughed harshly. "How do you even stand living with how obnoxious you are!"

"Do this, or we both rot in prison together."

Draco could not decide whether Potter was bluffing. All he knew was his hand was bleeding a bit more than he had planned for, and he could feel time slipping away from him as they continued to chat. He would figure out a way to get rid of Potter later. For now, he would need to give him what he wanted.

The two men reached their arms from the cells and stretched across the gap provided by the cement wall between them. They could just barely reach each other's hands, and when their hands finally did join it was with the disgusting dampness of slick blood.

"I, Harry James Potter, vow on my very life, that I will free Draco Malfoy from this prison, and I will not kill him afterwards. I vow that I will assist him in finding his parents' murderer, so that the truth of their mission will be unveiled and all others will be safe."

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, vow on my very life, that I will instruct Harry Potter on the ancient arts of meditation and self control so that he will not grow insane with Tom Riddle's memories. I vow that I will not stop him from joining me on my quest to avenge my parents."

Those weren't quite the words Harry was looking for, but it would have to do. He felt a sudden tightness between their hands as though they were being squeezed together by an invisible force, and while he couldn't see the bond be made he could feel a wave of magical energy pass through his body, and there was a sudden flash of light. Draco quickly retracted his hand, and Harry did the same, wrapping it in a piece of cloth he ripped off from his robe.

"Now for the fun part" Draco said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a long while.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

Ron had collected what felt like the 1,000th stack of incredibly heavy and horrifically dusty books to bring back to Hermione. However, when he rounded the corner of the bookshelves behind which she was sitting, he found that she had fallen fast asleep; her face firmly buried into the spine of a massive book entitled "Rare, Unusual, and Mostly Forgotten About Spells". It wasn't a great surprise, neither of them had slept much the night before, and hours spent in the library did not lend to wakefulness.

Glancing at his watch he realized that it was already past midnight. He gently roused her from her sleep, laughing a bit as she had to peel a page away that had stuck to her face. As she came to her senses, there was a look of great alarm in her eyes. "How long have I slept? How much time have I lost?"

"Couldn't have been more than 15 minutes" he said soothingly, dropping the books heavily on the table and sitting beside her. "I was just getting those books you asked for and came back to find you snoring like Fluffy after a flute serenade."

"I can't be wasting any time!" she practically squealed, throwing one book aside and grabbing eagerly at another.

"You need rest Hermione!" Ron interrupted, swiftly slamming the book closed again. "We both do."

"Ron, there's not time for rest. If something happens and Harry loses it again, Shacklebolt will have to... have to stop him. And that's simply not an option. There is always a solution, we just need to be quick about finding it."

As she spoke she avoided Ron's gaze, and there was a fearful tremble in her voice underneath the know-it-all attitude. He reached out and touched her shoulder and could feel the tension there. "I'm scared too Hermione" he said softly, and finally she looked at him and he could see the full-blown panic in her eyes.

"We can't lose him Ron, he's too important he's..."

"He's the best part of all of us" he said, finishing her sentence. "I know that better than anyone else. But if we don't rest, we will go insane ourselves. And then we can't stop Harry from going off the deep end."

"He's not insane" she said briskly, brushing his hand from her shoulder. "There's something logical and fixable about this. He didn't just wake up one morning and decide `oh today is sure a good day to start acting like Tom Riddle'. Even if he was insane, he would never choose to be like him, no matter how bad things got."

"I agree" Ron said, fatigue and agitation creeping into his voice. "He's nothing like Voldemort, and never could be. He's cursed, or poisoned, or whatever. But we've been here for hours, and we are no closer to finding a single solution!"

"So what, we go home and sleep?" she shrieked, incredulous. "Can you really sleep, knowing that he is locked behind bars with only Draco Malfoy for company, that he may not last another minute let alone another day?"

"You can't always protect him!" Ron blurted out before he could stop himself. She looked stricken, but he continued because it was too late to stop himself and he was tired to the point of delirious and confused, while simultaneously feeling sickened and scared. "Harry stopped letting us protect him a long time ago. To be honest, it's been years now since I've recognized the guy who used to be my best mate. Believe me, I don't want to lose him, even though I barely ever see him, it would be like losing a piece of myself to have him be gone forever. But we have faced the likelihood of his death a million times, and we have learned to be strong about it. We need to be strong now, not just for ourselves, but for him. Trust that he can last a bit longer while we figure this out. He's come back from the brink of death many times, he can come back from the brink of insanity too. We just need to trust him."

Hermione bit her lip to keep it from trembling, and nodded. She was so tired that she could barely piece two thoughts together, but Ron was right. They would need to trust him to keep his strength until they could find a solution, and in the meantime they would need to keep up their strength as well. They got up to leave, simply letting the books lie on the table where they left them.

"You are wrong about one things though Ron" she said as they left.

"I'm sure I'm wrong about a lot of things Hermione."

"Harry is still the same person we've always known. If you look close enough, you can see it. It's just that for him, the war never ended."

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After a short silence Draco Malfoy began to speak. "The war was a terrible time for all of us."

This is not what Harry had expected him to say. Logically, Draco would have to make him angry to break down the prison walls, and so he had expected some predictable banter about how Harry's parents were dead, or how the Weasleys were scum, or how Albus Dumbledore deserved to die.

Draco continued. "When those snatchers caught you and brought you to the Manor, I recognized you of course. But I was so tired of it all. I hated feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. It was like everyone was pulling the strings to my life, and I had no control whatsoever. Believe it or not, I did not want Dumbledore to die. I had never really hated him. Disliked him, sure. He played favorites and he was a meddling old fool who talked in riddles and knew nothing of what it was like to barely grip onto control and live in dark hopelessness. But I didn't hate him. And having to watch him be killed by Severus Snape, that shook me you might say. Made me realize how real it all was. And I didn't like being a puppet or a pawn, and I guess that's why I lied to that crazy bitch Belletrix Lestrange and said I didn't recognize you."

By now, Harry was extremely confused as to why Draco was being so forthcoming, and while he had no sympathy for Draco's plight, and still thought him a coward, the blonde man was becoming somehow more human to him. Later, Harry would realize it was a clever ploy, a method for setting him off balance and making him unprepared for the blind hatred and anger that would follow shortly thereafter.

"Call it an act of rebellion" Draco said, lazily pacing his cell as he spoke. "Understand it wasn't a sign of respect or concern for you, but simply accept I had my reasons, and as I said, the war was a terrible time for us all. But, it had its highlights. That same night I lied to Lestrange and saved your life I suppose, I also got to watch that insufferable know-it-all Granger get her comeuppance. You're probably thinking I'm just saying this to upset you, but I want to understand that every word I am saying is full honesty. And I have hated that bitch since I first met her."

Harry stirred uncomfortably. He knew Draco needed to get him angry to make him lash out, but he was also a bit scared of what might happen. He bit back his natural defensiveness of his best friend, gripping his knees to tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"And let me clarify, this goes beyond my desire to hurt you Potter. No, my distaste for her is part of my very essence. It's not just that she's a mudblood, though that does truly turn the stomach. Families like mine are founded on tradition and that brings pride that she could never even begin to understand. Pride that she stomped on in her little charade of trying to seem important. And that night, seeing Belletrix Lestrange torture her with that knife, why it was one of the most vindicating things I have ever experienced. She cried, as I'm sure you know, and I just watched with the sort of fascination you feel when seeing something truly unique in life. Do you remember how she cried out?"

Harry didn't want to. It was one of those very dark moments in life that he had always tried to keep locked far, far away. He tried to block it out now, but there was some part of him being drawn to the story. Riddle.

"She kept carving `mudblood' in her arm, and it grew and grew each time. And it actually got a bit gory but you didn't see that part."

Harry felt a sick smile spread across his face, and it was out of his control. "I remember the first time I met Belletrix Lestrange. She was truly a maniac, but it was a useful sort of madness that could be controlled. I could have her licking my boots if I wanted. She was a unique weapon, a perfect combination of loyalty and sadistic sociopath."

Draco heard Tom Riddle's voice coming from Harry's cell, and he knew he was on track. "How do you feel Tom?" he asked.

"I feel rage. Deep, dark rage. I don't know where it's coming from, but it is a familiar passion and I quite enjoy it."

"That's Harry Potter's anger."

"All the better."

"You can't control him you know. You're just a series of memories, you have no consciousness."

"I need no consciousness. There's enough fury here to fuel us both." the walls trembled now, as though a minor earthquake were happening. "He wants your blood Malfoy. Oh, it's a glorious feeling."

"Whatever gets you off I guess" Malfoy muttered, becoming more than just a little anxious as pieces of the ceiling began to fall heavily from overhead, filling the room with dust. The loud wailing of the wards began, and Malfoy knew they only had moments before the aurors would be swarming the place.

What happened next rocked him from his feet. There was what could only be described as an explosion, and with a deafening cracking sound, the wall behind them shattered, exposing the night air. Draco lay amidst the rubble, his ears ringing, and tried to struggle to his feet. Need to apparate... move dammit he urged his body forward but the ringing in his ears had him dizzy now, and between the dark and mild concussion he seemed to be suffering, he could barely see when Harry Potter marched from the rubble, grabbed Draco by the shirt and dragged him into the cool darkness of the outdoors.

There was a loud POP and they were both gone.

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