Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: Okay, so here is Chapter 6 and the mystery continues to grow. I promise answers will come along, and there will be more H/Hr scenes in the near future. Please bear with me for now, and keep the reviews coming! I love hearing your thoughts.

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CHAPTER 6: The Deserter

In a million years Hermione would never have believed this could happen. As she stood amongst the rubble, she felt as small and lost as she once had after the final battle, when walking on the blood stained remains of Hogwarts. She still could not believe that it was possible, despite the very graphic evidence to suggest otherwise.

He's a fugitive. A madman on the loose. He will be killed on sight.

After years of blood, sweat and many tears, the Boy Who Lived had finally hit his end, and he would be hunted like a convict. The hope that still dwelled in her that he may recover only worsened the sting of his absence, and as the light of dawn slowly revealed the destruction that surrounded her, she sank further and further from reality. There were aurors all around her, collecting evidence, speaking, taking notes... but she heard and saw nothing but the hole in the wall that Harry Potter had vanished through.

Eventually, there was a hand on her arm that tugged, refusing to be ignored. Slowly she heard her name being repeated, muffled at first and then rippling to the surface of her consciousness. She turned to see Ron standing there, looking at her with a mixture of fear and sadness. She looked flatly into his eyes and then pushed him with all her force.

Ron wasn't much of a match to her when it came to magic, but he was tall and had filled out, and even with all her force he barely stumbled back. A look of surprise spread across his features, and this only fueled her further and she pushed him again, a sound emerging from her that was a mixture of pain and fury.

"What happened to trusting him Ron? You said he would defeat this, and now he's gone, we've lost him!" as she kept lashing out at him Ron gained his wits and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so she couldn't shove him anymore. She struggled at first and then slumped in his arms. "We've lost him" she repeated, her voice broken and muffled against his chest.

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

Draco Malfoy did not recognize where he was when he regained consciousness, but it was certainly ugly. Somebody has worse taste than a Weasley he thought as he rubbed his temples. The walls were a hideous pastel shade, and the curtains hanging from the windows looked like someone had eaten confetti and then vomited everywhere. He reminded himself to thank Potter for taking him to such a high-class hideout.

He was laying on a cheap carpet in what looked like a very gaudy parlor room. He stretched and carefully rose to his feet in spite of the loud and obnoxious protests his brain was offering. The house was silent, so he walked around trying to determine where he was. He peeked outside the window and instantly knew he was someplace very muggle based on the tidy green lawns and shiny automobiles. Draco knew little about muggle devices, but he wasn't entirely ignorant. Know thy enemy as Lucius always said.

He closed the curtains firmly and headed down the hallways past a small broom closet and into an empty kitchen. There was a noticeable lack of furniture, aside from a few odds and ends that had been left behind to collect dust. He hoisted himself onto the counter and sat there a few moments trying to let the pounding in his temples reside.

"How do you like the new place?" Harry asked, his footsteps echoing through the empty house as he approached.

"It's disgusting" Draco groaned.

"I quite agree" Harry said, with a strange grin. "No place quite like home."

"You took us to your house Potter? You're dumber than you look, don't you think they'll find us here?" Draco leapt to his feet, pacing menacingly towards the dark haired man.

"Oh they won't look here. This hasn't been my home in many years, if it ever really was home." Harry did not back down to Draco's menacing glare. This was the first time they had truly been face to face in many years, and Draco Malfoy looked changed. Like Harry, he had grown a bit taller after Hogwarts, and they both stood around the same height. Draco had always been slender, with an aristocratic complexion, and that was still very much the same. While Harry had been training for auror work for the past five years and grown wider with muscle and age, Draco was still quite wiry. But his face had changed; it had grown less sharp and pointed, and more chiseled and defined.

"So this is where you grew up?" Draco deduced after a beat. Harry merely nodded. "No wonder you're a tasteless sap."

"We can't all be as refined as you Slytherins" Harry said, but there was no malice in his tone. He was too tired to bother sparring with Draco Malfoy, and besides, there were far worse things than Draco's snide jabs. Being back in this house spurred a plethora of terrible memories, but none terrible enough to block out the fact that he was a fugitive now. He had sprung his enemy from jail, destroyed the facility where he had worked for years and abandoned his friends, one of whom was still in great danger. Harry Potter felt very heavy indeed.

Draco sensed that it was fruitless to speak with Harry any further, so they both fell into uncomfortable silence for a while. Being face to face with the Boy Who Lived was making Draco's blood boil hotter than he had expected. Harry's face was a source of many miserable memories for Draco and he started to doubt sincerely how they would last without killing one another. But Draco hadn't spent all that time learning self-control for nothing, and so he slowly went through the meditative process of calming his mind.

In the meantime, Harry proceeded to wander aimlessly from room to room of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. He had thought it would be a good idea to come here. He knew from past inquiries that this house had not been sold. For some strange reason, many felt it was cursed or haunted. For Harry, it was both really. They would not stay here long, but it would provide familiar refuge and it would take a while before anyone would even think to look here. Of course, his friends had been there once or twice, each time an attempt to rescued him. It was unlikely they would suspect the prisoner would go back to his prison.

Harry stood outside the broom closet, contemplating having a peek inside when his thoughts were interrupted by Draco. "Okay Potter, we need an actual plan here. We haven't got any wands, any money, and anyone to communicate with. We are now cut off from all of our allies, and that includes your fan club. If they know where we are they will have to alert the aurors, and our little quest for freedom will be destroyed."

Harry pondered this. It was still possible that they could go back, turn themselves in and explain everything that happened. They could get actual resources from the auror department, Draco could train Harry to control the phantom Tom Riddle memories from occurring, and they could seek who killed Draco's parents and threatened Hermione. But he did not voice any of this because as soon as he even thought it he knew it wasn't an intelligent plan. Draco would have to be held to the legal procedure, and so would Harry. Their case may span out weeks, even months, and they didn't have that sort of time. Furthermore, Harry had now proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could not be safely controlled. Kingsley Shacklebolt would probably have to kill him on sight in the interest of protecting others, and Harry really couldn't blame him. Maybe they should have waited, tried to talk reason and gotten released normally. But procedures were procedures and Harry had been stung by the ministry enough times in the past to know that bureaucracy would not yield to him.

"Hermione and Ron would not notify anyone if I asked them to come and meet us somewhere. Alone."

"Oh brilliant plan Potter. I'm sure your girlfriend who is under constant protection by the auror department won't be followed when she slips out in the dead of night."

"Okay, well Ron then" Harry started, but he didn't need Draco to point out the fatal flaw in that plan. They were both at The Burrow, which was enveloped by extensive wards and flanked by packs of aurors. Harry was quite sure that they would also follow Hermione and Ron wherever they would go. He was quite sure because he had demanded it personally. "What else can we do? Do you have any friends I'm unaware of?"

This led Draco to suddenly remember the hot flames that had devoured Vincent Crabbe in the Room of Requirement, but he quickly shut this thought off. Crabbe had never really been his friend, more like an obedient dog that always followed him around. Until the end of course, when Crabbe had become completely seduced by the concept of power and lost control. "We will need to sneak into Malfoy Manor and get what we need."

"Clever, given that it's bound to be under close watch" Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Nobody knows the Manor the way I do. There are dozens of secret passages they won't be aware of. We can get in, get whatever money and supplies we need, and move on. But first, you need to learn a little self-control. We can't have you going all Tom Riddle if we're going to fulfill this fucking unbreakable vow. Though I'm starting to wonder if I'd rather die than work with you."

"That makes two of us" Harry said snidely. Then they set to work.

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

Back at the Burrow Hermione felt like a prisoner. She had wanted to assist in the search for Harry, but naturally she had been denied given that she was still considered to be at great risk now that Draco Malfoy was free. Also because Harry is free she thought solemnly. Admittedly, Harry had lashed at her numerous times in his madness. If it was madness. She still could not believe that.

She felt utterly useless sitting by the fire in the Weasley kitchen sipping a cup of tea. How could she go from being by Harry's side in the war to being locked away in his greatest time of need? It seemed senseless. She needed a distraction, so she tried to use her intellect to put the pieces together in a logical manner. There were a few things that didn't make sense.

It was clear that Harry had lost control again, with such force that he blasted a hole in a heavily warded and very thick concrete wall. That alone seemed astonishing- wandless magic wasn't unheard of, but for a single consciousness to have such power was. Even more puzzling however, was why he hadn't gone after Draco. The aurors had found small traces of both of the boys' blood but not enough to suggest serious energy. There were drag marks of a body having been pulled from the wreckage of Draco's cell, which made even less sense. Had Harry taken Draco with him somewhere? If he was going to kill him, why not do it right then?

Too many questions with no obvious answers. There was still the question of where he could have possibly gone. Although she had been made to sit at home like a good little girl, she had insisted that updates be sent via owl on a regular basis. Surprisingly, O'Rourke had been the one to oblige her in this request. They had checked Hermione's home, Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place, Ron's flat and every inn and hotel in Diagon Alley. Of course, Harry had grown up muggle but they didn't expect he had enough self control to manage his use of magic in a muggle area, and there had been no alerts of magic being used in muggle zones.

There was a shuffling from the other room, and Hermione straightened up in her seat. Ron came into the room, having recently woken from a much-needed nap. He looked weary as he eyed her sitting there.

"I'm not mad at you" she said softly, before he could say anything. "I shouldn't have gone after you like I did. I was just really shaken. I thought we would have more time to help him."

"He might still turn around... maybe he'll turn himself in."

"And be contained where?" she asked, her voice breaking as he pulled a chair up beside her. "You heard Kingsley, Ron. They are going to have to k-kill him on sight. It hurts to hope, let's don't even discuss it."

"I somehow doubt that the famously strong-willed Hermione Granger has resigned herself like this."

"Listen... when you left while we were searching for the horocruxes, I thought my heart was broken." Ron shifted uncomfortably. They rarely discussed their failed relationship. "Before you left, you made me feel that for the first time I was being seen for who I truly was, and I thought that there was romantic love between us. I felt beautiful around you, and witty and smart and powerful. And then you up and left and I was devastated. I felt like a fool- I was inconsolable. The worst part wasn't just missing you until it hurt to breathe, it was feeling like I didn't know myself. Like I wasn't that clever pretty girl you made me believe I was."

"I'm sorry-" Ron started, but she stopped him with a raise of her hand.

"I'm not bringing up old wounds to hurt you. You came back, and we had our good moments and our bad, but you're still my best friend and I am grateful for that. Why I'm telling you this is to make you understand why I can't bare to hope, why doing so will destroy me when we finally hear that he is gone for good. As you said yourself- Harry isn't just a friend. He is the best part of us. And if he is gone, I won't exist anymore. At least, not the way I do now. And I need to prepare myself for that fact.

You said that Harry has changed, that he's barely recognizable and you're right. But not with me. When he comes home from his battles, no matter how bruised and scarred he is he comes to me. And I fix him, and I see him smile and laugh- almost the way he used to when we were children. Fixing him... being there for him... it has been my life since I was eleven, as it was yours. But you found an escape, and to be honest there's times I've almost envied you for it. Does that make me a horrible person?"

"No" Ron said, feeling obnoxious little tears running down his cheeks. He swatted them away with the back of your hand. "Fighting alongside Harry felt both like the greatest honor and the heaviest burden. I never said it out loud because I didn't want to be thought a coward. But I feel like in the time we've known him, I've aged so many years. The money, the girls, the extravagant partying... I turned to that because I needed something light to lift me away from the suffocating feeling that comes with being part of the `Golden Trio'. But you... you stayed with him all this time, and your business at the ministry as well-- you said Harry's war never ended, but yours never did either."

"It will if... when he dies. I can't go on without him. I don't know how to, and I'm too tired to care if that makes me weak and pathetic."

"It doesn't. You have been the strongest person I've known, and if... when Harry is.... dead-- you deserve some peace. But I need to know something."

"Yes?"

"Are you in love with him? I mean, romantically, did you fall in love with Harry Potter?"

Hermione paused a moment. Just days before she would have adamantly denied any romantic inclinations for her best friend, and she would have called Ron an utter moron. But now, sitting by the dying embers of the fire the question seemed to take on a whole new light. "I don't know if I ever loved him that way" she began. It felt weird to talk about him in past tense, but for now it was what she needed to do. She would pretend that he was already gone to avoid going mad with the nagging sensation of meritless hope. "I've been asked that question in the past more than I care to mention. Usually I would bite your head off, but I don't really know anymore. Maybe I don't really know what it's like to feel in love. I thought I was in love with you once, but now I suppose that was more about clinging together through fear, pain and adversity."

"Well, I've been in love with you since we were at Hogwarts, and I don't doubt that." She jumped slightly at Ron's response. It shocked her from the deep cycle of angst she had fallen into, drowsily staring into the red flicker of flames. "I know I'm in love with you and you're everything I've ever wanted. But I also know I could never be what you wanted, and that you would drive me insane."

"Gee thanks."

"Seriously. I could never keep up with you. You are brilliant and beautiful and aggressive and compassionate... but you never stop! It's like the wheels of that wonderful brain are always on overdrive, and I am a simple man with simple needs. I can be loyal, and I'd even dare say I can be courageous, but you are more than I can handle."

"I'm more than most people can handle I'm sure" she sighed. She was falling back into her thoughts of Harry, but at least for a few glorious moments Ron had managed to distract her.

"Some people thought you and Harry were destined" Ron said slowly, not wanting to bring it back to Harry but unable to help himself. "But I never saw it. Whatever is... was between you was special, but I never saw anything that really suggested that sort of love." That's not fully true he admitted in his mind. He recalled just a day ago when the two had sat so close together, Harry whispering into her ear through the bars of his prison cell. And in that moment, yes, he had wondered. The honest truth, when he really dug down to it, was that he did not want to think of his two friends that way. Hermione and he hadn't worked out, but some selfish, hidden part of Ron still liked to think of her as his, and liked to think that she could never belong to anyone else.

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

Harry would never, in a thousand years, have imagined this scenario. He and Draco Malfoy had taken two of his Petunia Dursely's ugly flower spotted couch cushions, banged out the dust, laid them on the floor of Dudley's old (and otherwise barren) bedroom, and there they sat cross legged, eyes closed, trying the meditate.

Well, Draco wasn't trying. He was succeeding. It was Harry who felt foolish and had no idea what he was doing. They had been at it for hours, and Harry was uncomfortable, restless and bored. Somehow, although Draco had his eyes closed and he looked very peaceful, he noticed every time Harry shifted, sighed, or opened his eyes to peek.

"Focus Potter" he would say, barely moving his lips. Draco had instructed him to try to relax, to focus on just his breathing, and to maintain, even measured breaths. He had told him that naturally thoughts would pop into his mind ("I suppose that even you have occasional thoughts Potter"), but to push those thoughts gently away.

Well, it wasn't working. Harry's mind was racing, and every little pinch or pain, every itch or cramp became more noticeable than ever. Needless to say, Harry did not reach any sort of zen on that first day.

And so, they went on to a second day, with about the same outcome. Only on the second day, Harry was growing intensely hungry, and with hunger came irritability. Draco, wise to the fact that an irritable Harry was likely to bring out a potentially vicious Tom Riddle reaction, stopped the meditation and suggested they find something to eat.

Without a word, Harry simply stood up and walked out of the room and straight out the front door of the house. Uncertain about the safety of following, Draco stayed put. Maybe he finally went off the deep end and will go on a Muggle killing spree and get picked off by the aurors and I'll finally be free of this Unbreakable fucking oath.

Harry returned however, and with him he carried a loaf of bread and a few cans of soup. They discovered some rusty tools left in the basement and pried the cans open, and for supper they dined on cold soup eaten with slices of bread. It was hardly the fine dining Draco Malfoy had grown up accustomed to, but he was so hungry he could hardly complain.

"Where did you find this Potter?" he asked, using a last bit of bread to scoop out a bit of broth from the bottom of his can.

"Soup kitchen" Harry shrugged. Draco had no idea what this meant, and stared at Harry through slitted eyes, trying to determine if he was, proverbially, fucking with him. Harry seemed to notice Draco's confusion and smiled slightly in spite of himself. "They're places where homeless can find something eat."

"Ugh, just let them starve" Draco responded, chucking his empty can into the corner of room. It could only improve the decor in his opinion. "Survival of the fittest."

"Yes Malfoy, it was fitness, not wealth that paid for your meals growing up."

"And what do you know about it Potter? This house may be no Malfoy Manner but I highly doubt you grew up getting in line at these kitchen soup places."

Harry refrained from the desire to correct his snobby accomplice. "I did get food from there often, that's how I knew where to find it. The Dursleys were my relatives, but only by blood. I had to hoard food from time to time to keep from starving under the rule of my obese cousin."

Draco didn't know what to say to that. He hardly cared, and he certainly didn't pity Harry. He was mostly just surprised; he had pictured Harry Potter coming out of the womb with a golden halo around his head and teams of adoring fans. Like all who grew up in the wizard world, Draco knew Harry's parents had been killed when he was one. But Draco assumed he had gone on to some other sappy, hand holding, loving family.

On day three, Harry found it becoming easier to push away various thoughts as they arose. He was able to sit still for much longer, and he began to find a bit of peace and control his breathing. But it wasn't until over a week that Harry could quickly and comfortably clear his mind.

During that time, Draco mostly avoided Harry. Except when they were meditating they slept in different rooms, and preoccupied themselves on opposite ends of the house. Harry did not protest to this separation-- he did not want to spend any more time with Draco than absolutely necessary. He still felt Draco was a disease, and that if he spent too much time around him he may become infected. Aside from the second day, they did not even eat in the other's presence. Harry would collect food every afternoon, and they would split it and go back to their separate spaces.

When the time finally came that Harry could meditate successfully, Draco cheerfully announced "Now for the hard part!"

"You need to be able to get into that state of blankness instantly whenever you feel a particularly strong emotion. This is the key to self-control. No matter how, scared, angry or depressed you are, you need to be able to push away that feeling; expel it from your mind."

They started with happiness, which Draco claimed was much easier to control and Harry imagined he was right. They resumed their positions in Dudley's old room, and once Harry was comfortable, Draco asked him to explain the happiest moment of his life in detail.

This was very personal and quite uncomfortable, but Draco had made it clear that if Harry did not give it his all, he would never learn. He searched his memory for a while, recalling obvious things like meeting Ron and Hermione on the train, winning the Quidditch cup, his first kiss with Ginny, his first time making love (again, with Ginny)... but there was one memory that stood out sharply and suddenly in his mind. "My happiest moment was watching Sirius fly away on Buckbeak."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't feel alone for the first time in a long time. Sirius was free, and he would be out there, watching over me. I had Hermione by my side, and I felt loved in a way I hadn't before. She had traveled through time with me, and I knew she would do anything for me."

"How did that make you feel?"

"It was like a warm sensation somewhere in my stomach. Incredible happiness, and although there was still so much danger out there, I felt for the first time like I'd really be alright, like I had a family. Like I was important to people."

"Feel that now, try to be back in that place, at that exact time. Try to see it all again, and to feel it all again."

Surprisingly, Harry was quickly able to do so. He could nearly feel the cool night breeze on his face as he tilted his head up to the moonlight and watched his Godfather soar through the sky on the magnificent hippogriff. He remembered feeling a beautiful and poignant sense of hope; his insecurities about being wanted after years of abuse disappeared for a moment in time. Hermione was close by his side, watching Sirius go, and as she wrapped her hand in his, he felt a tug somewhere in him. This powerful emotion had caused him to look away from the sky and down to her face. In the pale moonlight she looked quite beautiful, and even though they were still very young that was the exact word that came to mind. Not cute, not pretty, but beautiful. It gave him a strange sense of pride then, knowing she was his friend, and that with all her intellect and beauty she would still choose to stand by HIS side. It was the first time in his memory that he could actually feel love, like electricity running through his body. And it was the greatest feeling he had ever known.

"Now, push it away!" Draco yelled, cutting through Harry's reverie. Harry felt confused as to what push it away meant, and to complicate matters, he liked the memory he was experiencing. It felt like he was indulging in something sweet and satisfying.

"Get rid of all those thoughts, and go to nothing!" Draco repeated, this time louder.

It wasn't quick. Harry tried to stop thinking about those images, those feelings, that night. But after a few minutes, he was back to the blank darkness of meditation.

"Good" said Draco, sounding tired. "Now let's do that about a thousand more times, and then we can try with something more powerful-- anger."

Another week passed before Draco really felt ready to test Harry's progress. If Harry's magic went off, they would have to move on right away or else they would be detected. He started with small things, mostly poking fun at Harry's scar, or dissing the Weasley family. Yet as he moved up, Harry found that it became increasingly easy to block him out. He would feel that sense of rage bubble up in him, and he would feel echoes of Voldemort's memories. He would see flashes of blood stained rooms, hear screams, sense a rush of adrenaline. But he could push his own anger away, and as soon as it was gone, nothing from Tom Riddle/ Voldemort's past was able to emerge. He no longer needed to be in meditation to deflect these comments- he could find that perfect stillness with the snap of a finger. It was like turning something off inside him.

Then one day, Draco finally announced that they were done. "But I haven't been really tested" Harry admitted. While he felt anxious that they had already wasted enough time while the danger remained out there, he did not want to lose control at a bad moment and lose everything. "I mean, I can put up with your typical rants on how I suck and all, I can even ignore your comments on losing people I cared about. But what about when something happens that really infuriates me? Like someone attacking me, or attacking someone important to met, or seeing innocent people get hurt..."

"Then God help whoever is in your general vicinity" Draco scowled. He could tell from Harry's expression that he was not amused. "Listen Potter, this only goes so far. Clearly, you can tell that I don't have it all under control 100% of the time myself."

"Well what good is it then?!" Harry burst out, trying to steady himself.

"You're better off than you were before" Draco reminded him. "Now, it's time to break into Malfoy Manor."

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

It had been over two weeks since Harry had escaped and there had been no sight of him or Draco Malfoy. Hermione continued to try to force herself to think that Harry was already gone, so she wouldn't be tormented by the hope that maybe he was okay somewhere. Or worse yet, alone and hurt and needing her. She paced the Burrow, and tried to bury her mind in work brought over from the ministry, but nothing was helping.

She could hardly eat. Her dreams were plagued by nightmares of Harry's casket. She was becoming sickly, but she refused all medical attention. But then, on the 16th night of Harry's absence, her mail was brought to her from her now empty house. In it, was a muggle postmarked letter with no return address, but the handwriting was unmistakable.

"Hermione-- I am so sorry for whatever I am putting you through. I am okay. Not cured, but better. I am going to keep searching for whoever sent that death threat against you. I am sure it is the same person/people who have been killing the Death Eaters. None of it makes much sense, but it can't mean anything good. I would ask you to please not come look for me, but I know that's unlikely. Know that if you trace this letter's origin, I have already left. I hope you are alright. I think of everything I've done to you, and I hate myself. I hope when we see each other again, you will not hate me also. Please tell Ron and the Weasleys I am sorry-- it has to be this way for now but I will clear my name once it is certain I am not a danger. Stay safe, be smart. Love--- Harry."

Quickly, cast a spell over the paper and when the ink rearranged itself, it revealed his location and she nearly laughed at the stupidity of it all. Of course, he went to one of the only places he would think to go: 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging.

"How didn't that occur to me?" she said out loud, and while she felt she out should be angry with him (and there was a bit of that) there was a huge swelling sense of relief, and she almost laughed. Harry's home growing up had been so seldom discussed, and was so clearly a dark point in his past she would never have imagined he would go there. But he had only lived in a few places, and it made sense that nobody would think to look for him there. This logic meant that he was in sound mind- he was not insane. Not cured, but better she repeated the words through her mind, and for the first time in over two weeks, she allowed herself to hope.

She needed to get to him, but she couldn't trust he would be safe if she was followed. Harry was on a "kill on sight" proclamation due to his handiwork at the prison, and she needed someone she could trust. Which oddly, led to her to Caitlin O'Rourke.

When O'Rourke finally responded to Hermione's summons, she found Hermione pacing restlessly in the sitting room on The Burrow. "What are you summonsing me for Granger?" she asked irritably. "I'm not your pet."

Hermione stopped pacing and looked squarely at the tall, wispy red head whose scowl somehow made her look even more attractive. O'Rourke looked tired, but still quite composed as she crossed her arms angrily across her chest, and struck a pose of annoyance and defiance. Still, she had come.

Hermione sucked in a long breath, still trying to decide if she trusted the auror who had once been Harry's lover. Deciding she had no other choice, she spoke. "I know where Harry is. Or was. According to him, he has already left."

"Brilliant, and why haven't you informed Shacklebolt? We've been running all over the UK trying to find the damn Boy Who Lived, I have hardly caught five solid minutes of sleep, and meanwhile you're what, his pen pal?"

"I just found out moments ago. He wrote me via muggle mail to tell me he's alright, he's not cured but he's better. Whatever that means. I need to go and see if he's still there."

"I doubt it, Potter was an auror for years. He's well on his way by now. If he really is sane, we'll never find him if he doesn't want to be found. You know it as well as I do." O'Rourke's tone was sharp, but there was a slight sag of relief in her shoulders as she mentioned the potential of him being sane. "We need to report this to the Kingsley Shacklebolt so he can send a team to the location to investigate."

"Kingsley has issued a decree that he be killed on site to prevent endangering the lives of others. You know that quite well, and he will uphold that decree despite how much he doesn't want to."

"It's protocol; Potter has demonstrated power that nobody can begin to pretend to understand, and he's a risk. We couldn't even contain him if we wanted to, he proved that quite thoroughly."

"I understand" Hermione nodded. "But I know you won't uphold it. You can call him `Potter' all you want, but let's be honest; if you see him will you be able to end his life? You're still in love with him."

O'Rourke stiffened at this but did not deny it. "So, what are you trying to ask here?"

"I can't leave the bloody house without being followed" Hermione said, exasperated. "I need you to say you are escorting me to, I don't know, get my nails done or something. If they think you are with me, I won't be followed."

"Fine then, but I'm going with you" O'Rourke demanded, leaving no room for argument.

"Me too" said a voice from the other room, and Ron Weasley came striding in.

"Way to eavesdrop" O'Rourke said grumpily. She was wondering how much the pesky red head had heard, and if he knew about her being in love with Harry and all that personal and uncomfortable business.

"You should have come and told me straight off" he said to Hermione with grim frustration.

"I was going to, I was just getting ahead of myself."

"Alright, whatever then. When will be off?"

"I need to put in a word to the department" O'Rourke announced. "Then we should be able to head out. Where will we be apparating to might I ask?"

"4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging" Hermione responded, and her and Ron exchanged a look that O'Rourke couldn't quite read (despite her highly acclaimed skills of perception).

Although Ron and Hermione had only been to 4 Privet Drive very briefly, it was not hard to focus on the ugly decor and recall the house in detail. With a loud POP they pulled O'Rourke through with them, and the three arrived in a very quiet and very dark house. Quickly they drew their wands and split up to search the place.

Hermione could hear her heart thumping in her ears as she crept from room to room. O'Rourke was right, Harry was long gone in all likelihood, but that not stop her from hoping. For so many days Hermione had tried to repress hope, to keep it secret and contained, but now it soared from her uncontrollably. But after a quick sweep of the house, all there was to be found was a pile of empty tin cans tossed around and a few pillows and blankets.

"Don't touch anything" O'Rourke said, sounding tired and exasperated. "Since he's not here I think it's safe to call in an investigative squad to tell us what they can about what Harry was doing here. You'll both need to leave or else I'll be in deep trouble. I'll tell them you gave me the lead though."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. Although she knew it was a far stretch that they would get there and find Harry sitting in front of the telly eating buttered toast she couldn't help but hope to see him. Still, the logical portion of her mind knew she ought to be thankful for what they had discovered. There was no real damage done (besides the mess), so clearly he had been in control of his magic, and he had been able to feed himself. There was nothing to suggest injury or illness, which meant he was okay. He was okay, and that would have to be enough for now.

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

Harry's clothes were so dirty they felt stiff against his skin. He judged that Malfoy felt much the same by the way he scratched irritably at his skin. They were crouched at the edge of a forest, looking up towards Malfoy Manor looming against the darkening sky.

"Once it's dark we'll run for that rock" Draco said, pointing to a large grey boulder.

"Great strategy" Harry sighed with heavy sarcasm. "Got a plan for after that?"

"Shut up Potter, and watch."

As soon as Draco deemed it dark enough the two young men ran across the open ground, staying close to the ground. Earlier they had counted four aurors circling the manor on watch. When they reached the boulder, Draco ran his hands frantically about the surface as though searching for something.

"Had enough of groping the rock?" Harry asked after several moments had passed. With a quick look up towards the Manor he could make out the shadowy form of an auror out taking yet another lap of the property.

Draco ignored his impatient accomplice and finally his fingers ran across a raised form on the rock. The serpent Draco thought, smiling inwardly. It was nice to be near something familiar after the past few weeks had been so miserable. Even in the dark he recognized the familiar shape of the serpent's body, which was engraved into the rock. He pressed it and the rock slowly began to move, revealing a staircase going underground. Quickly they scampered down the steps, and the rock soundlessly slid closed behind them, submerging them in total darkness.

"Welcome back to Malfoy Manor" Draco said as he felt for the wall. He felt Harry grab the back of his shirt, and he nearly shook him off, contemplating leaving him to die in the darkness. But that wouldn't be in keeping with what was now officially in his mind, the Unbreakable Fucking Vow. So he allowed Potter to claw onto his shirt despite how much it made his skin crawl. There were an almost obscene number of cobwebs in this particular tunnel, and in the silence they could hear the scuttling of rats. Fortunately, Draco had a clear map of the tunnel in his mind, and so he ran his hand along the rough stonewalls, Potter following like a dog on a leash.

When they neared the dungeon there was finally enough light to see and Harry abruptly let go of Draco. If his clothes seemed gross before he was now covered from head to toe in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs (and a few spiders which he brushed away). Once he was done fussing with removing all insects from his clothing, he looked around the dungeon in awe. He had been locked up in Malfoy Manor once, but apparently that was only a "holding cell" compared with what existed at these depths. It was something like the vaults at Gringotts, with towering ceilings and stalactites with sharp looking points hanging far above their heads.

It seemed that all Slytherins felt potions labs belonged in dungeons as Draco had quite the laboratory setup. Harry had never been a whizz with potions, but he knew enough from his Advanced Potions course to appreciate the cost and value of the equipment here. He could also tell it was quite new. "Been busy Malfoy?"

"Shut up much Potter?" Draco responded as Harry Harry went off to wander a bit. He needed to brew up a very complex potion to deal with the aurors overhead, and he was glad that the raven-haired blabbermouth was trailing off and giving him some peace.

Harry for his part, felt both fascinated by the Manor and horrified. This had been the place where he, Ron and Luna had been held captive, where Hermione had been tortured, and where Dobby had died. That time felt so long ago now; like lifetimes had passed but very little had changed. Everyone he loved was still at risk, he was still struggling to survive and he had little to show for it all.

As Harry paced around musing about his life (or lack thereof), Draco was quickly contacting a potion called "Mist of Slumber" which was exactly what it sounded like. It was a pearl white concoction that when released would expel a massive fog-like cloud which would flood the entire manor and the grounds beyond. When inhaled, it would send the aurors into a deep sleep, which would last for approximately two hours. It was very tricky to brew, and could be lethal if done wrong, but Draco was quite certain of his skills. While he hated having the do-good aurors snooping around his family's prestigious property, he did not want to add their murder to his criminal record.

The potion took an hour to brew, and quite to Draco's delight Harry did not bother him once to inquire about what he was doing. Once he had carefully siphoned the white liquid into a vial, he plugged it soundly with a rubber stopper and then told Harry to head back into the tunnel. If Harry thought this request was strange he didn't indicate so. He seemed to have a lot on his mind, something which Draco equally cared nothing about.

Draco ascended the stairs to Malfoy Manor from the dungeon, once more thinking of the chilling tale of the young Malfoy wife who had been hurled to her death. There's no place like home Draco thought with grim fascination. He kicked the door open, not caring if he was seen or heard, and flung the vial against the nearest wall which was adorned with a covered portrait that screamed from behind its dark veil as the potion spattered about. Draco knew better than to wait around to watch the sleepy white cloud form, and he turned sharply on his heel and sprinted down the stairs. Normally he tried to take his time navigating the exceptionally sharp and uneven stone steps (he didn't need to end the Malfoy family line by breaking his neck), but he didn't have time. Luckily, years of Quidditch has made him rather graceful, and he was also sure footed. He rushed towards the tunnel where Harry was lazily slumped against the wall, and he slammed a heavy wood door tightly behind them.

"This should keep it out until the fog dissipates in the next ten minutes. But just in case... hold your breath."

Again, if Harry thought this was odd he didn't say so. Nor did he counter the improbability of holding his breath for 10 minutes. They simply stood there in silence, and when the time had passed Draco pushed open the doors with a sigh and gleefully announced "finally I can take a bloody shower!"

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

O'Rourke was tired. No more than simply tired, she was completely knackered. She felt irritable and confused, and while irritability was an emotion she was very much used to, confusion was something she was not designed for. She was always confident, poised and self-assured. She didn't like this love nonsense, if that's what it even was. And she really didn't like this worrying nonsense.

She wanted to go home and sleep for days. No, strike that. She wanted to go home, drink her weight in those delicious Singing Mermaid concoctions that Hermione had introduced her to, and THEN sleep for days. But first she needed to relay what the investigative team had uncovered at 4 Privet Drive. She wasn't sure why she was bothering. While she had learned to respect Hermione Granger a bit more, she by no means liked the brunette know-it-all. It was ludicrous that half of the auror team was being stationed as personal bodyguards to a low-level ministry worker. True she was a war hero, and true she was BFFs with the Boy Who Lived, but she wasn't the bloody queen. And then there was Weasley-- the wannabe playboy businessman who would probably be fat and bald in a few years, still living off of the success of Harry Potter.

Nevertheless, O'Rourke knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she spoke with them both. So she found herself at the Burrow once more, standing before a determined looking Hermione and a dumb-as-ever looking Ronald with his mouth hanging wide open. Hermione was looking at her with such open eagerness that it was almost disgusting. Yeah, you never slept with Harry... what utter bullshit. Can't believe I fell for that old denial routine.

"Do you have something to tell us?" Ron asked slowly, and O'Rourke was suddenly aware that in her delirious fatigue she was simply staring at Hermione angrily, tapping her foot and not speaking.

"Oh yes" she began, uncharacteristically flustered. "The investigative team determined that they were at Privet Drive the entire time since they broke free."

"They?" Ron and Hermione repeated in unison.

O'Rourke blinked. "Yes, they were able to determine that Draco Malfoy was there as well. They found a strand of his hair." There was a long silence.

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron yelled so loudly that both girls jumped. "The world really has gone insane now! Harry Potter has run off with Draco-fucking-Malfoy?"

"I don't think that's actually his middle name" O'Rourke pointed out, but Ron's rant continued.

"What, are they on a lover's tryst? I mean, Draco FUCKING Malfoy? Harry must be really off his rocker if he's shacking up with that traitorous, deranged, cowardly FERRET of a man! I know Harry said that Draco is innocent of the killings and the death threat and all that, but now can we even trust Harry? Do we even know who he is anymore--"

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Hermione finally shouted, cutting him off. "Enough is enough! I am just as shocked and confused as you are. I believed Harry when he said Draco is innocent and he must be if Harry has... has teamed up with him."

"TEAMED UP with him eh? Teamed up with a bloody Slytherin Death Eater? Teamed up with a guy who used to play for the same team that killed my brother? Do you even hear what you're saying?"

"It would seem they did `team up'" O'Rourke interjected, using the term with great distaste. "There was no signs of struggle or violence, in fact they both ate Muggle food which indicates that Harry was feeding Draco during the time they were there. There was also no use of magic, which suggests that things were reasonably peaceful between the two of them. If there's one thing we know about Harry's condition it's that excitability sets him off. He was in control the entire time from what we can tell."

"So Harry broke Malfoy out of prison, gave him a house and FED him?" Ron blurted out. "Well, I hope he enjoys his new pet ferret because I will never speak with that bastard again."

"Ron!" Hermione called out, but it was too late. He had turned and left the room, running up the stairs to his childhood bedroom.

"Drama drama" O'Rourke yawned. "I don't know what Harry is doing with Draco Malfoy, nobody does. But if he has gone this long without having another `episode' then that suggests that they're helping each other in some way."

"I think you're right" Hermione said, worriedly biting her lip as she still looked at the empty spot where Ron had just been standing. "But I am worried about what sort of deal Harry would have to make to get any sort of help from Draco Malfoy."

Long after O'Rourke had left, and Ron had refused to open his bedroom door, Hermione had found her way to sleeplessly lying under her covers. As she struggled to find sleep she found herself still wondering if Harry Potter had sold his soul to the devil.

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