Title: Should the Sky Fall
Author: brixxx
Team: Fanon
Prompt: Justice
Wordcount: 16,377
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death. Ignores DH completely.
Summary: Draco finds himself a rather unwilling hero when a spell gives him the chance to change the course of the war.
Author's Note Based on the interpretation that justice is about cold, objective balance. Thanks to my beta for the hard work, and thanks to the cheerful Team Fanon!

The world seemed to hold its breath; the future of the wizarding world suspended at the end of a wand. Draco's stomach felt tight as he waited for a sign that it was over, his hand clutching the windowsill of the tower tensely.

His eyes focused on the centre of the fray below him, knowing that inside the blackened burnt area of land someone had just died. There seemed to be nothing to signal an end, but Draco knew in an instant that it was over. The Light had lost.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. His own life was now forfeit. Agreeing to stay neutral may have satisfied the Light, but to Voldemort it was tantamount to a blood betrayal. Draco wouldn't last the day. A hand seemed to squeeze his chest. He didn't want to die, but he had always known that Potter's death would spell his own.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the sullen figure that stood next to him, watching the battle being lost with his usual sneer. Draco tried not to notice that his companion made no shadow under the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. Nor did he focus on the fact that he could still see a hideous painting, the only decoration in the tower room they both stood in, through his neck and shoulders.

It seemed utterly cruel to Draco that Snape was trapped in the place where he had spent his life, not through choice but in order to seek redemption, and would now remain there forever. Draco wondered, not for the first time, if there really was no rest for the wicked. He supposed that if that were the case, that he ought to settle himself for a long ethereal existence.

"Had I known that this was how it would end, I might have made a more informed decision," Draco said quietly into the silence. Snape arched a dark eyebrow, disbelief somehow clear on his face despite the fact that his 'face' was a somewhat grey blur.

"I see that you are still a master at self-deception. I had thought that that was something you would have discovered long ago," he commented before focusing his gaze down at the moving figures below them, one figure indecipherable from the next. "I confess myself a little surprised that you are taking the Dark Lord's success so well."

Draco laughed hoarsely, and leaned up against the wall, watching the fires start at the centre of the battle field; the place where Harry Potter must have finally fallen. "Well? Is that how it seems?" he smiled grimly, "I really must have learned from my father's lessons. No, Severus, I am not taking this well."

He knew it was only a matter of time before he was tracked down by the Death Eaters and branded as a traitor. Draco had known that it was a risk when he chosen to abandon his path with the Dark Lord. It was why he had been away from Britain for so many years. He still wasn't sure why he had come back. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he would die anywhere if the Dark won. Mostly it was because Draco had always had an insatiable curiosity, and to not have been here when the wizarding world's fate was to be decided would perhaps be the biggest regret of Draco's, now short, life.

They stood in silence for a long moment. Somewhere in the castle there was a scream and several large crashes. Draco's stomach rolled as he wondered how long it would be before they found him. "It seems so unfair," he finally whispered. He turned grey eyes onto his godfather and, for the first time since he was a little boy, had the urge to throw himself into someone else's arms and have them look after him.

Snape regarded him silently, nothing in his face betraying his thoughts. "Unfair," he muttered to himself in an almost confused tone.

Draco turned back to the window trying to control his unwanted impulses.

"Indeed. Fairness isn't needed here, but balance, justice, may be," Snape continued. Bewildered at his usually concise Godfather twittering on about balance, something that was more at home coming out of Professor Trelawney's mouth, but knowing it was unwise to question the typically taciturn man, Draco bit his tongue to wait it out.

"Balance was needed. Potter wasn't strong enough in the end."

Draco couldn't resist, hearing Potter's name spoken so casually. "Always Potter. He was never strong enough, or bright enough," Draco spat, surprised that the past tense so easily rolled from his tongue despite the fact that the 'Hero' had only been killed a short while ago.

Snape rolled disapproving eyes over at Draco. "He was strong enough, once."

The blond knew that Snape had made a grudging peace with Potter shortly after the young man graduated and had joined the war effort, but the lack of enmity in the his voice seemed out of place.

Whether Snape knew him well enough, or had seen the rolling of Draco's eyes, the younger man wasn't sure, but Snape could always put him in his place. "Apologies if I seem unlike myself; being dead seems to end useless feuds. Something I am sure you will soon learn," he spat acerbically. Draco winced; apparently death may have dimmed his memories, but had not dulled his quick tongue. The words hurt and reminded Draco that soon he would understand every detail of death. Unwittingly, he wrapped his arms around himself. Gritting his teeth, he stared out at the slowly darkening sky. The battle seemed to have stopped in the time they had been talking. It seemed odd to Draco that it had ended so quickly after Potter's defeat. It was if everything had stopped, and that the world had given up along with the Boy Wonder. The little idiot had not been powerful enough in the end, but it seemed he was still the strongest amongst them all. He hadn't given up. The little insidious thought wormed its way into Draco's mind.

What had happened had happened. It couldn't be undone, and he had chosen to step back and let the war happen to those who in the end hadn't been strong enough to win.

"There is one thing you learn when you die Draco, and that is patience. There is a pattern in everything. That is something the old man had right. I hadn't understood at the time, but he had. Right up until he died, he knew that there was something else happening. And that the Light must win to keep the scales steady."

Draco watched the man become almost wistful. Suddenly Snape turned to him and in less time than it took to blink, was standing directly in front of Draco and staring at him hard.

"I remember something from before I died. There is a way." Snape's eyes seemed to be burning into him and Draco resisted the urge to move backwards. An arm came out and brushed past Draco's shoulder and the blond couldn't help but feel an icy cold burn through his flesh, as if to the very bone, leaving him colder than he had ever been in his life.

"I don't understand, Severus," Draco said quietly.

"You can correct it. Potter was not strong enough. He had learned hate, had lived with hate, and died ultimately because of the same," the words were hastily thrown at him.

"But there is another side to hate," he continued. Snape whirled away suddenly and Draco found himself watching the incorporeal figure at the other side of the room, in an approximation of pacing. "I never understood what the daft old fool was trying to tell me, but I think I do now, but I refuse to say something so clichéd and romantic," he turned to Draco and watched him with narrowed eyes and said, almost to himself, "and I don't think he'd believe me even if I told him."

In a heartbeat he was once more beside Draco. "There is a way. It's time to stop being neutral. You are the balance here, and if you learn fast enough, you can bring justice and stop this happening," Snape hissed urgently.

Draco bit his lip and ignored the clenching of his stomach. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he didn't think he liked where it was going. "I don't know what you are talking about." Could something be done?

"You must go. There is a book in Dumbledore's office, behind his desk. You must take it out and read it."

"But, no one has been able to get into his office since he died, and which spell are you talking about?" Draco asked, confused about what he was supposed to be doing.

Somewhere in the castle, raised voices and laughter, punctuated by screams, were getting closer.

"Details," Snape sneered with a wispy hand floating sweeping away Draco's concerns.

"Details?" he asked incredulously, eyebrows rising.

The ghost looked at him derisively. "If you are incapable of working out the smallest of details..." he began. A loud crash somewhere in the castle had them both starting suddenly.

Draco turned to look at his Godfather one last time, and for an instant he could almost feel the man's hot breath against his face, smell the stale herbs from the dark robes that had been so familiar to him in life. For an instant he was afraid of the urgent, angry look that was intent upon him.

"Go," the word was hissed almost desperately and Draco could feel himself being pushed backwards slightly towards the door. With one terrified look at his Godfather, Draco ran.

***

His feet pounded against the smooth stone floor as he ran towards the stairs that would lead him to Dumbledore's office. He tried not to think of the fact that he knew he could not access the office, instead focused on trying to figure out where the raucous laughter that seemed to follow him was coming from.

He held his wand in his right hand, his palm damp from nervous sweat as he propelled himself around corners. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing; what foolish errand his Godfather had tasked him with in a desperate attempt to put things right. How could he, Draco, put things right? It had been done: the war was over, the Light had lost. The only thing that made his feet keep moving forwards was the faint glimmer of hope that he would not soon die viciously at the hands of one of his former friends. Or worse, a member of his family.

The sudden open hallway that appeared as he reached the staircase surprised him and he skidded to a halt to stop him from flinging himself head first down them. It turned out to be a wise decision seconds later when a cry was heard and spells came spinning towards him from two floors down. With a gasp, Draco threw himself behind one of the stone posts at the top of the stairs, cold against his back as he ducked away from the flashes of green and gold streaming towards him. Sparks hissed and fizzed around him as the spells bounced off of the stone. Draco's heart thudded as he braced himself for a second, his hands shaking so much now that he feared he would drop his wand. Risking a quick glance out, he could see the figures moving two floors below him, waiting for the shifting staircase to move to allow them to catch him. He didn't recognise them, but they were wearing the dark cloaks of the Death Eaters, their masks hanging uselessly around their necks. It seemed almost macabre that their Death Eater faces had been stripped away, now no longer scared of baring their faces to the world; instead it was Draco who needed to ensure they did not recognise him.

Draco focused instead on how to escape. The staircase next to him that would lead down towards Dumbledore's office was sitting peacefully still, much to his relief, and would take only a few seconds to go down, but that would expose him to anything the Death Eaters cared to throw against him. Draco was not a brave man, evident in his having escaped the war at the first chance he could safely do so.

He gritted his teeth, ignoring the angry voice of Snape that he could almost hear in the back of his mind, mocking him for his cowardice. His heart thudding painfully he tried to convince himself that he could do it, but every time he thought he could make a dash for it, he realised he couldn't move his feet. Almost crying with desperation, paralysed with fear, he nearly didn't notice the staircase beginning to groan and shift as it started to move. The gravely noise brought him back to the present, and before he realised what he was doing, blood rushing in his ears, he had thrown himself away from the wall, hurtling down the stairs so fast he feared he would trip and break his neck. He could hear curses streaming towards him, his name being called as they recognised the bright blond hair and pointed features that were so much like his father's, and he screamed something almost intelligible back at them, his wand waving wildly.

In barely a few seconds, but what felt like hours, he jumped over the few inches of gap between the stairs and the ledge, carefully not looking down into the void below, and landed gracelessly against the stone floor. His knees gave out, saving him unwittingly from a spell that he could feel whiz past his cheek as he fell, and he collapsed into the corridor, colliding with a wall. He cried out in pain as his shoulder burned with heat as he bounced off of the wall, but he knew he had no time to waste; the staircase the Death Eaters were waiting for would be turning soon enough.

On shaking legs he drew himself upright, nearly falling again as something in his shoulder made a sickening crunch. Pressing the lower part of his arm to his chest with his wand hand to try to stop the throbbing, Draco whimpered and started to run down the corridor once more. In his panicked mind he was sure the Death Eaters were only seconds behind him and so when he reached the Headmaster's office he nearly sobbed with relief.

It was only then that he realised he had no idea how to get in. Letting go of his injured shoulder, his eyes watering as pain sliced through him, he pounded at the Gargoyle with his good arm. He could certainly hear the footsteps now, and as he turned to face their direction, knowing that it was too late to escape, and that he had failed his Godfather, the Gargoyle swung aside and he was in the staircase, protected from the cries of Voldemort's followers outside.

He stood shaking; sweat dripping into his eyes as reaction set in. He leaned against the wall and waited for the door to admit him into the office. Already he could hear the crashes and thuds as they tried to physically break down the wall separating them from Draco. The inner door swung open and the blond took a second to breathe before he entered carefully, unsure as to what he would find.

After Snape had killed Dumbledore on the rooftop, many years ago, Draco had heard that the Office had sealed itself closed, and no one, not even the new Headmistress could open it. It was as of the school had refused to allow anyone to take the place of the interfering old man. As if it was waiting for something. Now blood was being spilt in its halls, and Draco wondered briefly if the castle was sentient. He had only learnt after Snape's death that the man had been a spy and had been working for Dumbledore even after he had killed the older wizard, and so it seemed natural that the castle accepted an avatar of the dead man.

Calming his breathing, Draco moved further into the office. He had only been in there a few times and every time he had resisted the urge to look curiously at all of the strange instruments and gadgets lying around the office. It was not becoming of a Malfoy to show ignorance.

A thick layer of dust lay over the surfaces, his footsteps clearly marked on the grey floor. It had not been touched in 6 years, since that fateful night that had decided Draco in his escape. He resisted the urge to brush against the bowls of small, once shiny, stones, and to touch the tall, thin machine that was held together with scrawny metal screws, and to ignore completely the circular discs covered with runes stacked in the corner of one of the book shelves.

He moved towards the desk, and the shelves behind. He found the dust had been somewhat disturbed and a book lay open on the desk. It seemed someone had been here and his curiosity was piqued. His head jerked up as there was a crash from the moving staircase, and his heart jumped to his throat. The castle was crumbling now the Light had died and there was nothing left to sustain it. It wouldn't be long before even regular spells would allow them in.

Draco focused on the book once more. He brushed the pages free from dust, the yellow corners curling slightly, crinkling under his fingertips. Hastily he scanned the page; it was a simple spell, written with in a scrawled script, the letters somewhat cramped, but he could still read it. He whispered the words to himself, but paused. There was nothing about what the spell would do, but the simple title seemed ominously final: 'Fiat Justitia et pereat mundus'. Let Justice be Done Should the Sky Fall. He swallowed hard. The few instructions listed said very little, only described the wand movement and then the spell words. Draco could see that there was something else written at the bottom in a strange handwriting that looked vaguely familiar, although he couldn't say where he recognised it from. It said simply, 'Make it right; help him.'

Draco shivered as he read the words, his fingers lightly brushing over the pages. Another crash and a rumble caused Draco to look up in horror. Wincing at the sharp movement setting off the pain in his shoulder, he lifted his wand and started reading the words out loud. Footsteps were loud and his voice wavered. The final words passed his lips just as the first Death Eater entered the room. Draco's eyes widened as he watched the man's mouth form the worst of spells. The green light flew towards him but he was unable to move. As he took his last breath, the world went bright for a brief second, noise became loud in his ears, and then the world went dark.

***

Draco wrinkled his nose, an unpleasant musty smell tickling at the back of his throat. His eyes felt grimy as he tried to open them. He blinked slowly to clear his hazy vision. When in focus he turned his head slightly, his brows crinkling in confusion as he realised he was laying in a very uncomfortable bed in the middle of a dark room.

Spells shooting towards him as he read ancient words. The fear rising in his throat as the Death Eater grinned at him.

With a gasp Draco vaulted over onto his side, his hands shaking as he propped himself up into a crouch, ready to run from the Death Eaters he was sure were waiting for him.

Instead, all that moved were the heavy tapestry curtains that swayed with the strong breeze from the open window behind them, letting a sliver of light into the room. The walls were covered in a flocked, greying wallpaper peeling at the corners of each strip and by the heavy oak door. A wardrobe stood ominously against the far wall near the doorway, its looming presence making the room feel much smaller.

Next to his bed was a single empty chair with greying upholstery and next to the bed stood a small cabinet covered in tiny glass vials. He reached a had out to pick one up and realised they were healing potions; some empty, some full, and all labelled with Snape's familiar, mostly illegible, scrawl. He realised with a start that his shoulder no longer hurt, and after prodding it slightly with his fingers, seemed to be suffering no adverse affects. It seemed that wherever he was he wasn't going to be harmed immediately. He did notice however that his wand was nowhere in sight.

Sitting back down Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed wincing as his feet came into contact with cold stone. It was then that he noticed the pyjamas. He scowled at the red and white striped monstrosities, that were slightly too short, ferociously.

The door to the room opened with a groan and instantly Draco transferred his anger to the first person who came through, ignoring any sense of danger in favour of showing his displeasure at wearing what he assumed were second hand pyjamas. Remus Lupin was not the person he expected to see walking through the door, but his glare did not waver. Draco took stock of the older man who was barely recognisable from the man who had taught them DADA in his third year, looking much more impoverished and threadbare than he did back then, although to Draco's moneyed mind this feat had seemed to be almost impossible.

A high pitched shrieking seemed to echo through the open door, foul language the only thing that Draco could pick out of the cacophony. It was with no small relief that the door was shut softly, blocking out the noise. However the relief was short lived as he realised that it was Harry Potter who had shut the door, his slight figure almost hidden behind Lupin as they both entered.

Draco's eyes widened and he stood up sharply, taking a deep breath. Memories that had been ignored after the brief panic supplied by chasing Death Eaters came flooding back. The final battle, knowing that Potter had lost, Snape's anxious direction and the hastily cast spell. He sagged back into the bed, not realising that Lupin had rushed forwards to steady him, holding his arm.

Draco's eyes fixed on Potter wondering what exactly the spell had done. "You died," he said accusingly, his face cleared of the usual Malfoy poise. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud but by the way Potter's mouth tightened and his arms folded over his chest defensively, Draco knew the words had slipped out.

What had he done?

Draco gritted his teeth and tried to calm down, realising Lupin was still holding onto him, and so pushed on the hands indignantly.

"And we all thought you'd been run out of the country six months ago. Turns out we've both suffered a great disappointment today," Harry said sourly.

"Mr Malfoy," Lupin began, dragging Draco's attention away from glaring at the other man. "We're hoping that you can explain to us exactly how you came to be on the doorstep of this house."

Draco hesitated for a second, not sure exactly what he could say. He didn't know how he had managed it himself. "Where is my wand?" he asked instead.

Potter rolled his eyes and leaned back against the door, arms still folded. Draco wondered briefly at how young the man still looked. Although the age perhaps wasn't nearly so surprising as finding him still in one piece. Draco cast his mind back to take in the words of the spell, fully conscious of both of their gazes' heavy upon him.

Wait a moment.

"Six months?" Draco asked, a sharp edge of panic in his voice. He stared at Potter who shot a confused look at Lupin.

"You said I left six months ago," Draco repeated. Words of the spell that at the time he had been too busy reading through, suddenly came into his mind. The world span for a moment as he struggled to catch his breath, the world seeming to shrink down until all he could focus on was the now slightly concerned looking man on the other side of the room

The spell had talked about helping when necessary. When Necessary.

When.

Draco could hear could hear voices talking but he couldn't concentrate on the words. A warm hand on his arm pulled him out of his self-induced panic. Catching the frail wrist in his hand, he turned to Lupin. He looked at the old features, more tired that the man he remembered in third year, but couldn't be the ten years of age that he had expected to see.

"When are we?" he managed to gasp out. A blank gaze stared back.

"In Merlin's" he said halting before more expletives could pass his lips. He groaned aloud in annoyance at being surrounded by idiots.

"Potter," he barked, "when did we leave Hogwarts?"

Potter's mouth tightened and he regarded Draco with cold eyes.

"Banged your head, Malfoy?" he asked bitterly.

"Don't be your usual annoying self, Potter, and answer the bloody question."

"Shouldn't you know? You were there when it happened. When the world was distracted, and Hogwarts burned." Harry looked dangerous and for a moment Draco grudgingly remembered why he had decided the Light stood a better chance at surviving the war. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out when he had actually thought about it. In fact it had only taken about six months to decide before he left.

Six months after Hogwarts burned, and his parents a long with it.

Draco's face lost whatever colour it had left. Potter had been watching him the entire time and had obviously been something in the play of emotions on Draco's face. He had stopped moving closer when he was at the foot of the bed.

"It'll be a year next week. A year since Hogwarts burned at the hands of your father."

The room was thick with silence as Draco took in what this meant.

The battle at Hogwarts had changed everything. Had finally proved the strength of Voldemort's forces and had been the first of six years of open battles, before the war had ended.

It had been that battle that had changed everything in Draco's world; where he had seen violence and death up close, and realised that no one was safe under the Dark Lord's reign. His father had brought down the school, signalling the beginning of a long and bloody war, and had been left to die by his master in the halls. Draco would never be safe if the Dark Lord had won.

But nor could he openly fight against his family. He had walked away six months later, and had then only resurfaced at the end.

Draco leaned back in the bed until he was laying flat on his back and staring at the greying ceiling.

Five years. The spell had sent him back five years. Draco started to laugh.

Snape had sent him back to make a difference to the outcome of the war. Him. Draco Malfoy. He who had left the war rather that chose a side.

"Mr Malfoy," Lupin started, startled at the laughter.

"You haven't answered anything," Potter said irritably.

Draco rested an arm over his eyes and sighed. "Apparently they thought that I could help you win the war."

With his arm still obscuring his vision, Draco couldn't see the incredulous looks being passed back and forth.

***

Potter rolled his eyes and rinsed off another plate.

"Why don't you use magic? Do you enjoy moonlighting as a house elf?" Draco asked, wondering how long he could keep up the inane chatter before Potter lost his temper. He sat primly by the kitchen table as he watched Potter wash dishes.

He had spent the last few days bored silly under house arrest at Grimmauld Place, and he was fed up. Oh yes, he now knew where he was, and didn't it annoy him that the ancestral Black home had been left to decay by the uneducated idiots. No one seemed to understand the history of the place, instead seeing it as a symbol of hated pure-blood supremacy. How ironic, that the Order be the ones housed here.

A shout from the hallway followed by the door slamming caught Potter's attention, and even Draco found himself jumping in agitation.

Bill Weasley popped his head around the door to the kitchen, glared slightly at Draco, and pointedly turned to look at Harry. "Meeting in five," he sad softly with a little wink.

To Draco's amusement, Potter nodded, but flushed pleasantly at the wink. Wasn't that interesting?

The door swung to with a click and Potter moved away from the sink. "Where to today?" he enquired, knowing full well that it was unlikely he would be told.

"Don't think that just because you're back here, that you get to help," Harry hissed. Draco was taken back; Potter really needed to get his emotions under control.

He stood and followed Potter out of the room, catching the door before it could close against him.

"Ever thought that I'm bored just sitting here?"

"Not my problem, Malfoy."

Draco hated walking down the corridor following the brunet, but it was too narrow to stand beside him.

"I think it's obvious I don't work for the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort."

Draco winced. He couldn't get used to hearing that. They kept chanting about fear of a name increasing one's fear of the thing itself like some sort of bizarre mantra. It irritated Draco, and seemed far too much like trying to convince themselves that the Dark Lord was not as powerful as he clearly was.

"The Dark Lord. I mean the spell sent me here and quite frankly I like my life. I like France. And—"

"Malfoy!" Potter snapped. He stopped suddenly, turning around to glare at him exasperatedly. Draco almost walked straight into him, and ended up close enough that the could smell the soap that the other man had used to wash the plates.

"You are not coming to Hogwarts with us." He continued.
"Well why didn't you say?" Draco said, waving his hands, "of course, I'm coming to Hogwarts with you."

Throwing his hands in the air Potter cursed and turned on his heel, stalking down the corridor into the hallway where others were beginning to gather.

Draco followed at a more leisurely pace, annoying a frustrated Potter.

"What is he doing here?" The blond rolled his eyes at hearing Weasley's voice, not really paying attention, but seeing the shock of ghastly orange hair that seemed to top off a body that was at least a foot taller than Draco remembered from school.

"He," Harry replied with a sigh and a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, "seems to have decided that following me around is his new favourite pastime."

Weasley gave Potter a sympathetic look, at least from what Draco could make out. The freckles made it difficult to read a facial expression.

"I am coming to Hogwarts," Draco said clearly.

"No you are not," Harry retorted without looking at the Slytherin.

"Yes he is."

The voice stopped whatever retort he was going to throw at Weasley, it staying on the edge of his tongue. Slowly Draco turned his head, and drank his fill at seeing his Godfather alive for the first time in three years.

"Draco," Snape greeted stiffly.

"Now you talk plainly," Draco complained, finding his usual snark a useful barrier against the urge to throw himself into his Godfather's arms. Hugging was not dignified. And besides he was still pissed at Ghost-Snape.

Snape raised an eyebrow in query.

"There you go. An eyebrow I understand, but giving me a cryptic message about a spell?" Draco shook his head. "You've been spending too much time with aged Headmasters."

Snape scowled. "You will stay with Potter who will take you to Dumbledore's office."

"If I don't kill him first," Potter muttered mutinously.

It had been years since Draco had stuck his tongue out at anyone, but for some reason he found it incredibly difficult to restrain himself at this moment.

***

Told you I wasn't lying."

Draco smirked as Potter grunted, whether in irritation, acknowledgement, or just finally proving that Gryffindors' brains get smaller each time they do something idiotically heroic, he wasn't sure.

"Well," Draco said as he finished reading. He looked across at Potter who was stood by the door playing guard dog. The bright green gaze shot back to Draco.

"What?" Potter finally snapped. His eyes kept glancing back to the open door, his wand gripped tightly, face tense.

"It appears he was right. Looks like I am here to help you," Draco replied smugly, folding his arms in apparent satisfaction. Internally he was wondering how on Earth he was supposed to be able to help the Wonder Boy.

Potter's eyebrows drew together, his attention now fully on Draco. "You must be reading it wrong. That can't be right," he complained.

Draco raised an indignant eyebrow. "Read it yourself if you don't believe me," he replied snappishly.

"Potter started to cross the room before he realised he was leaving the door unguarded. "Come stand here and keep watch."

Draco laughed. "I don't think so."

A sigh. "Malfoy, get over here, would you?"

The blond sat down in the chair, sinking into the plush cushion with a sigh. "I'm not going over there. Do you want me to get killed?"

Potter looked at him incredulously. "Yeah, great help you're going to be."

"Well the doorway is warded and as far as I know, we are the only one's who have been here since I arrived...3 years in the future..." Draco trailed off, unsure as to how to go on, his eyebrows furrowed.

With a final glance at the door, Potter sighed and carried on over to where Draco sat. If we're ambushed, I'm blaming you," he grumbled.

"What ever helps you sleep at night, Potter," he replied.

Draco watched as the other man leaned over the book and began to read. He tried not to notice the jeans pulled tight over his backside as he bent forward, but it was difficult not to sitting directly behind him. Apparently Potter had grown up, or backwards if Draco had gone back in time...Or...something. It perhaps wasn't a good idea to think too closely on it.

"Well, shit."

"Hate to say it, but..." Draco began his trademark smirk in place.

"'I told you so', yeah I got that link there. Isn't there ever a time that you stop talking?" Harry asked as he turned to focus on Draco one hip leaning against the sturdy desk.

The blond grinned, but a sudden noise outside of the doorway arrested both of their attentions.

"What was that, Potter? Aren't you supposed to be the Gryffindor watchdog?" Draco sniped, painfully aware that the last time he had been this office Death Eaters had been chasing him.

"Me?" Harry began in an angry hiss, before another clunk, and now faint laughter drifted through the open door.

Potter moved quickly over to the doorway and stood listening for a moment. Draco stood anxiously, his hand moving to his wand. He hated to admit it but he envied Potter's calmness under pressure. What good was he going to be when Potter seemed not to need him?

Potter turned around and beckoned Draco over. He leaned up to speak directly into Draco's ear. "They're right outside, but we should be ok in here. We don't know why the wards let you in, but Snape told us that Voldemort is still pissed that he can't get through Dumbledore's wards, so we should be ok in here for a while." Draco nodded quietly, unsure what else to do; his wand slippery under is sweaty palm.

"One problem, though."

Draco frowned expectantly.

Potter raised one eyebrow. "We're going to miss the rendezvous with the others."

***

Draco wasn't sure how exactly Potter had managed to persuade him to follow him out of the relative security of Dumbledore's office right into the waiting hands of the Death Eaters. Ok, so perhaps not exactly waiting. In fact, they had been so surprised, one had cursed the other by accident, leaving the Wonder Boy only one to curse into silence.

"Right then," Potter said as he finished dragging the second body into an alcove out of plain sight at the end of the corridor. A slight sheen of sweat covered his top lip and his brow and with the back of a hand he swiped it away as best he could. Draco glowered at him. Sneaking into offices for ancient spells, running out without a plan, other than point and shoot, into the hands of known Death Eaters in the very heart of their stronghold, and then having to perform physical labour? Draco was not enjoying his adventure into the world of a Gryffindor war hero.

And Snape had wondered why Potter had lost. The man seemed to have absolutely no concept of protecting his own skin. And he had almost been sorted into Slytherin. Ha!

"You better have a superior plan than that to get us out of here," Draco growled. His eyes narrowed as he watched Potter grimace and refuse to make eye contact.

"Course I do," he replied rubbing at his other arm with his wand hand. Again he refused to make eye contact, and Draco's spirits fell that little bit further. "I know the short cuts around here. Don't be so scared, Malfoy."

Draco scowled. "I am not a coward you imbecile. I have a respect for my skin that you seem to have left behind when you became friends with that wretched Weasley."

Potter shot him an angry look, "Leave him out of this Malfoy. Besides if we hadn't had to look for your spell..."

"That spell," Draco hissed, "could change everything." Even as the words left his mouth he realised he shouldn't have said anything.

"What? Why would you need to, unless..." Potter paused and stared hard at Malfoy who tried not to shift under the surprisingly powerful gaze. "We...I don't...?"

"Don't be stupid Potter, I've already explained this to you and half of your ragtag group that I can't tell you anything about the future," he said patronisingly. And he had told them about it half a dozen times before he had finally been allowed to leave the room he had woken up in. He had spent at least three days trying to prove that he was indeed Draco Malfoy, having been through so many tests. Tests ranging from general knowledge (before they all realised they knew not nearly enough about him to actually know if he was telling the truth) to Veritaserum, to actually having the werewolf smell him. Finally and despite the degradation, they only believed him when the sent someone to the South of France where his original self was living to prove that he could actually be in two places at once.

"If we are going to do this, you better make sure that I survive to the other side. I haven't just travelled through time to take in the sights and be killed," he finally stated.

A noise further up the corridor seemed to emphasise Draco's point, and within seconds, both had started to slip down the walkway. After long minutes they finally made it to a passageway by the Library on the way out to the courtyard, and Draco knew that they were supposed to use a corridor off of there. He wasn't entirely sure why it had to be that particular corridor; just something to do with the warding of the school being weaker in that spot. He hadn't learned more about it as he found it bloody difficult to eavesdrop in peace.

Just when they both thought they had made it without incident, a cry broke the silence. The angry shout set Draco's pulse racing and in front of him Potter stood up straight and started to sprint across the hallway, with a hurried shout of, "Come on!" over his shoulder.

"Shit, shit, shit," Draco began to chant as he stood upright, and raced after the figure, angry enough to kill Potter for his lack of stealth. After all, Slytherins were as sneaky as all hell, and there was no way that it was his fault that they had been spotted.

They hurtled across the hall, more shouts joining the lone Death Eater as spells started flying towards them. Draco had enough presence of mind to cast a quick protego to protect them before they got to the passageway. He winced as a spell hit the wall beside him as he made it around the corner.

Potter seemed to be freakishly fast at running and Draco found himself panting heavily already as they carried on down the corridor. For a moment he wondered why the Death Eaters seemed ridiculously slow at following them before all was revealed as he rounded the corner and ran straight into Potter's back.

"Watch it, Malfoy!" he hissed back at the blond after stumbling a few paces.

Draco ignored him and waved a frantic hand at the blank wall and ancient statue in front of him of what looked like to be a lady of ill repute. How that had managed to escape anyone's attention when it had been a school Draco did not know.

"What is this?" he managed to gasp out around his anger.

Potter looked at the statue from the corner of his eyes, as he pulled the pack off of his shoulder and started to rummage around in it.

"Bessie the Bold," he replied. Footsteps could start to be heard along the passageway. "She used to help people to safety during Grindelwald's reign. Pretty terrible nickname, and the inscription isn't clear. It's either bold or bald," Potter paused and shrugged, "I prefer bold myself, for obvious reasons."

Draco's arms stopped gesticulating wildly and let them fall by his side, wondering how exactly he would survive this encounter with half a dozen Death Eater's on their tail in the heart of Voldemort's castle, and apparently a hero who had lost his sanity somewhere in Dumbledore's office.

Potter looked up, obviously noticing the silence and seemed to become apologetic when he noticed Draco's rapidly reddening face. "It's ok, I've got a way to get us out of here; it's something Hermione rigged up for us, a sort of standard apparition device that will get through even the wards on this place, but," he paused hearing the cries of Death Eater's approaching, "I think we will have to get rid of these guys first."

The blond looked at Potter for a second, and realised that the flushed sweaty face seemed to positively relish being trapped like this. Maybe Draco was getting to see something that was held sacred by Gryffindors: pure idiotic heroism.

"Couldn't we have used that back in Dumbledore's office?" Draco asked quietly, dangerously.

"I couldn't be sure that it would get through Dumbledore's wards; we've never seen even a crack in those, but Hogwarts? They've been fluctuating continuously since it's not had a Headmaster," Potter said sadly.

He knew he had two choices; die helping or die at Voldemort's hands.

"Well, fuck."

Tiredly he lifted his wand and turned to face the way they had just come.

"Not likely," Potter chirped lightly, a grin on his face.

"You better bloody win this war Potter," he muttered grimly as he backed away until he neared the brunet. He was just in time to smell something musty coming from the bag as Harry kicked it away lightly so it wouldn't get in the way whilst they fought.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course, life and death situations cheer you up. Next time you are being a morose, sulking git, I'll just send the killing curse at you." He wiped his free hand across his own sweaty brow, moving blond hairs away from his eyes. "Of course, that would cheer me up I suppose, so it's a win-win situation."

Then the first Death Eater came around the corner and Draco missed whatever supposedly witty comeback the Boy Wonder had shot back as he began to fight.

For a moment Draco forgot what he was doing as he shot spell after spell at the opposing Death Eaters. All he could see were people shouting curses at him and feel the warm strength of Potter behind him, sometimes so far apart he could only feel the smallest of brushes against an arm or his hip, other times, they were pressed so tightly together that he could feel the curve of the smaller man's hip against his buttocks, the solid press of thighs as they moved around each other. Draco thought it almost odd that they fought as well together as they had against each other, or at least he would have thought about it if he hadn't been distracted by yet another curse flying at him.

But Draco hadn't been fighting fit since he had decided to leave the war, and all the natural ability and talent in the area couldn't prepare Draco for a life and death battle, so it wasn't much of a surprise when a spell got underneath his shielding and knocked him over, winding him as he fell and landed heavily. The only good thing was that they had just two Death Eaters left to fight. He looked up in time to see Harry turn to face him, eyes widening as he saw the young man grin and shoot off another spell. Potter, ever the hero, disarmed the man but had been too distracted to notice that his own opponent was taking advantage of the situation and had yelled the killing curse.

For a moment, everything slowed as Draco leapt from the floor with an agility he could never again reproduce, tackled Potter to the ground and let loose with his own spell. A heavy thud and the Death Eater was down. Neither Harry nor Draco dared to move for several minutes: Harry too winded from having Draco land on him, and the blond too scared to move for fear that another heroic impulse would grip him. And if that happened, Draco decided that he would have to hang himself from sheer shame.

The silence in the room was deafening. Draco finally got the courage to roll off of the warm body and lay panting. Absently he rubbed at his stomach where he had a Potter shaped elbow print, rucking up his shirt leaving the skin bare and cooling almost uncomfortably as the sweat dried.

"Did you just save my life?"

Draco pondered this for a moment. "Hmm," he agreed absently, quietly wondering what exactly this would do to his careless Slytherin reputation. "I guess I did. Bloody well sure I'll regret it in the morning."

"Right then. Er, thanks?" Potter seemed as confused by this chain of events as he did.

"Sure." Draco's head lolled to one side and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the floppy haired Gryffindor mess on the floor next to him, Potter's cheeks still flushed from exertion. "This better not become a habit," Draco warned suspiciously.

Potter blinked behind the large glasses and turned his head to return Draco's glare. "Don't worry. Wouldn't want anything like my imminent demise get in the way of your dubious Slytherin morals."

"Just so we're clear."

"Crystal."

Potter started to move to sit up. "Right, I'll get that thing working to go back....Malfoy?"

Draco blinked tired eyes at the other man who was starting to look very worried. "What? What is it?" he asked, trying not to look nervous.

"You...well you...look." Potter waved a frantic arm in Draco's direction.

He looked down at himself and noticed that parts of him seemed to be fading in and out. Draco stood up faster than he thought he could and reached down to touch his leg that seemed to be flickering. He let out a scared squeak as his hand passed right through.

He had just enough time to glance up at Potter before everything went dark.

***

Draco blinked slowly as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. His hand hurt from where he was laying on it, and he could tell from the insistent cold pressing against his cheek all the way down to his calf, that he was laying on a stone floor. The musty damp smell made him think of dungeons.

This couldn't be good.

"Your timing is just excellent." The snarky whispered voice surprised him and he scrambled upright, his muscles groaning in protest.

"What—" he started loudly before he was cut off, a warm palm pressed to his mouth.

"Don't be an idiot," Potter hissed. Draco's head shot around to where he could now feel a warm body pressed against his side, and came face to face to an angry Potter. Green eyes glared directly at him mere inches away, but Draco thought he could detect a glimmer of relief in them. "They could be listening, and I'm not having a repeat of last time," he finished in a harsh whisper.

With that, the Slytherin remembered what had happened before everything had gone dark. He pulled away from Potter with a gasp and rapidly checked himself for fading. To his relief he touched warm, solid flesh and not ghostly iciness. "What are you doing?" Potetr asked, bemused as Draco frantically patted himself wherever he could reach from his kneeling position.

"I was fading, Potter!" he whispered furiously back.

Potter regarded him carefully and sat back on his haunches. "You don't know what happened? What was the last thing you remember?"

Draco glared at him and he crossed his arms, ridiculously grateful that he could feel them pressed against his chest and refused to give any sort of dignified response.

"Ok, so fading I guess." Draco gave him his best 'you are a moron' glare and the brunet rolled his eyes. "Well, that was six months ago. You just disappeared." Harry shrugged. "When we had researched it a bit, Hermione had thought that perhaps it was to do with the spell, but it had been so long, I hadn't expected to see you again."

Draco swallowed. Six months? It wasn't as if he had lost those months; he had after all already lived through all of this once, in France in his usual timeline, and yet he felt somewhat ...cheated.

"I guess the spell takes the 'times of need' spiel very seriously," Potter continued and then glanced around, "which makes me slightly nervous about this mission."

He had been wrong about the dungeon. He was sat in what looked like what had once been a large living room; the rugs on the carpet had pretty much rotted away, and whatever standard living spells that had been placed on the room had obviously long been broken, which explained why the room was so cold. The greying paper on the walls had begun to peel and was curled up along the yellow skirting board. An old sofa was threadbare and rusted springs had burst through the material at some point. Picture frames on the walls and on the mantelpiece above the soot lined fireplace were empty, the pictures long since rotted or stolen away. The home had been abandoned a long time ago.

Draco looked back at Potter, who had been watching him. The brunet looked thinner than he had six months ago, his eyes seemed more sunk and the usual bright green seemed dimmer. His clothes were the same and Draco noticed the familiar backpack lying to one side, looking a little worse for wear beside them both.

"Miss me?" Draco smirked.

The other man rolled his eyes. "How you still manage to sound that sarcastic when whispering, I do not know."

"Rule number two in The Slytherin Handbook is ''always keep your enemies off-guard.'" Draco smirked.

The man sighed and regarded Draco reprovingly for a moment. "What's number one?" he asked after a moment. Draco frowned at the odd question.

"Number one in the Slytherin Rule Book," Potter repeated.

It caught him unawares, and for a moment he forgot himself and started to laugh. Potter seemed to be trying to stop the grin that was threatening.

"Never consort with Gryffindor, of course," he replied as if it was the only answer to a very obvious question.

Potter raised an eyebrow, and pointedly looked at himself. "And yet here you are."

The blond frowned. Here he was. But for what? And where was here? Draco looked around for the first time since he had arrived. This realisation made him slightly concerned. Apparently basic survival skills had been left in the future.

"Godric's Hollow," Potter said to him answering his unspoken question. Draco jerked back as if he had been hit. Hadn't that been where Voldemort had been defeated the first time? The place where Harry's parents had been killed? Draco swallowed hard. No wonder the young man was looking worse for wear.

Draco pushed down the flutter of pity he felt; instead he pushed himself slowly to his feet. He stumbled once and Potter steadied him. "You should go back to Headquarters," Potter said to him, still talking in a hushed tone.

"I'm here now," Draco grumbled, "as much as I would like to avoid another life or death situation with you, unfortunately I think it is inevitable." He could smell Potter's hair as he used the other man to balance.

Potter frowned and pulled away, leaning down to pick up the pack and sling it over his shoulder. "What is it you are doing here anyway?" Draco asked.

The other man was so silent that for a moment Draco wondered if he had even heard the question.

Feet shuffled on the floor. "I thought that there might be a horcrux here," he eventually replied, he turned eyes on the blond, "which is why we need to stay quiet. We have destroyed two of his others, so Voldemort has probably set more traps than usual."

Draco started. "Horcruxes? Why the creepy, slimy bastard."

Potter smiled slightly. "About right, I suppose," he said ruefully. "He split himself up into seven parts, so before I can go and kill him, I have to destroy all of them."

The blond rolled his eyes and started to brush the dust off of him. He wondered if he was doomed to spend the next few years travelling through time in exactly the same clothes. He found this a rather depressing thought. "Where are your trusty sidekicks?" Draco glanced around the room listening for any sign that there was anyone else here, but only hearing the groan of an old house.

"They're not here," Potter said gruffly before he shouldered the pack again and headed for the doorway out of the room.

Draco followed after, a frown on his face. He was pretty sure that they had been alive for the final battle. He felt a little shaky after the first few steps and cursed Potter loudly as he exited the room. The hallway was darkly oppressive, the smell of mould trapped in the small space and Draco could feel it at the back of his throat as he followed the quickly retreating back of Harry Potter. He caught up with him as he turned through a doorway and into what had once been a kitchen. An old sink, heavily coated with grime and rust stood in the corner of the room by the door outside. Potter stopped for a second to pause to look out of the window. Draco came to stand beside him.

"What's going on Potter? I would have thought that Weasley would have at least followed you out here. Merlin knows he is as faithful as a Hufflepuff," Draco commented idly as he stood next to the other man.

Harry passed a tired hand over his face, smearing a little muck over his cheek as he did so. "I told them not to."

Draco snorted. "They're Gryffindors Potter, when did they learn to listen to reason?" He wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue so much, but it seemed to make the brunet uncomfortable, so really, did he need another excuse?

"It's none of your business," Potter snapped. His hands reached out to grip the side of the sink heavily, fingers going white as they clenched tightly.

"I'm assuming that because you are here, I have been dragged to this bloody spot, so by definition, it is my business," Draco snarked back, folding his arms resolutely.

"I didn't ask or even want you here. You just showed up remember? Again," Potter retorted indignantly. "As If I would need you whining at me every few seconds. And besides why do you assume that the spell takes you to where I am?"

"Because where else would it take me? Much to my disgust it seems that you are central to this whole bloody war."

"I didn't ask to be!"

By now their faces were very close together and Draco was secretly relishing the extra few inches of height he had on the other man. "Of course not, then how else would you be the centre of attention? Poor little Potter..." Draco started taunting. The more he pushed the more Potter seemed to vibrate. The dull creature he had been merely a few minutes ago and now he was...well he looked like he was about to lamp Draco. He wondered if it was wise to back away a step or so, or whether this would give Potter ideas. After all, born as a Muggle, he no doubt would resort to fist fighting if pushed hard enough. Draco's mind flicked back to all of the past injuries and bruises he had suffered during their school days. Yes.

Also he seemed to have abandoned his desire to be very quiet whilst they were in this place which Draco decided needed pointing out.

"What?" Harry questioned.

"I said, that as we've been standing here for the last few minutes for you to shout at me, with barely a provocation..."

Harry sighed and sent a pointed glare at Draco, his hands clenching into fists. Draco thought it wise to stop for a minute. "Alright, so maybe it isn't in the house. We need to check outside."

"Oh so now it's 'we'? Can't wait to tell your dear little friends that you could tolerate my presence but not theirs," he mocked folding his arms.

Potter span on his heel and wrenched the back door open, striding out muttering under his breath. Draco smirked and followed him. "What was that Potter? I didn't quite hear..."

"Shut up!"

***

"I don't want anyone hurt," Potter said out of the blue when they were elbow deep in weeds at the bottom of the garden.

Draco glanced across at the man, wondering if he chose his moments deliberately based upon how awkward it was. He rolled his eyes and sighed. The other man had already checked the entire house and had found nothing. After a small argument, centred on the fact that Draco didn't trust the observational skills of a short sighted moron who couldn't tell his broom from his...ahem...wand, they had decided to try the garden. They had spent half an hour looking around the large garden before they realised that they could use magic to detect any magical signature. So now they were here digging up something that may or may not be a horcrux.

"Are you being deliberately obtuse, Potter?" he grumbled. "I have to say that if you are, please refrain from addressing me for at least another hour or I shall be forced to strike you."

There was a grunt from beside him. "They'll get in the way. They'll get hurt if they..."

"If they come with you? Is that it, Potter?" Draco touched something round and pulled. An old coin became visible. He shrugged and rubbed off the dirt before pocketing it. "Thanks for the warning. Glad to know that you are happy not to shield me from the inherent danger of your escapades."

"You don't get it." Draco could hear the anger in Potter's voice and could practically feel
the glare coming at him from the other man's direction.

The blond wiped his forehead with back of his wrist and sat back on his heels. He inspected his muddy hands with disgust. Apparently Potter thought that using magic to dig it out would not have been a good idea, something to do with a backlash of magic, but Draco felt sure it was because the man just liked to see him unkempt .

He glanced across at Potter who was now tearing at the ground with some abandon. "I'm pretty sure you are the one who doesn't 'get it'," Draco began, tired of the brunet's sulking.

"Yes!"

Draco frowned. He hadn't expected it would be that easy to get Potter to admit to it. "Well as long as you know that..."

Potter shot a look over his shoulder at Draco before looking back to the ground. "I think I've got it." The brunet pulled a small pair of gloves from his pocket and put them on. Draco inched forwards so he was just behind Potter. If whatever the Horcrux was, was going to explode, Draco wasn't going to be first in line. And dark magic had a tendency of exploding. They had nearly lost an entire wing of the manor when Draco had been growing up when his Father had been experimenting on a dark version of the Alohomora spell. It had opened something as far as Draco could remember, but had taken half of the outside wall with it.

Potter reached back into the hole, and Draco focused on the brown box that was being uncovered and not Harry's arse as he leaned over, flexing as he tried to pull it out.

"Potter, how hard can it be to pick up a damn box?" he asked irritably. It was cold and dark, and Draco was covered in mud. Add that to the fact that he wasn't entirely sure why he had been thrown into this point of time, and he thought that he could legitimately be tetchy.

Potter ignored him and started grunting as he tried to pull it even harder. From his position, hovering slightly behind the other man, Draco could just see something following the box out of the hole, something plant like and gripping onto it. Rolling his eyes as Potter continued to play tug of war, he pulled out his wand.

"You're an idiot Potter. Really, one day you will remember that you are a wizard and try to use magic to solve something and not brute force."

A quick severing spell and Potter came tumbling backwards, narrowly avoiding Draco to land on his back the box clutched in his hands.

"What the hell?" he yelled when he had his breath back.

"You have your box don't you?" Draco pointed out, gesturing with his free hand at the thing.

With a glower Potter sat upright and put the box carefully on the floor before he opened it. Draco tried not to look too eager but shuffled forwards to peer inside.

He stared at the small goblet.

"Is that it?" he asked sceptically, his eyebrow arched. He reached out to pick it up, when Potter grabbed his arm.

"Watch it, Potter!"

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said as he removed his arm, "pick it up, but when you lose an arm, don't come crying to me." Draco who had begun to reach out again, paused and gave Potter a sideways glance. After a second he realised that the other man didn't look like he was lying. As casually as he could, he dropped his arm to his side.

"So what now?"

Potter shrugged his shoulders. "We try to destroy it." He stood up and pointed his wand at it.

Draco scrambled upright and backed away quickly. "Potter," he almost screeched. "Are you an idiot?" The brunet paused and looked resigned.

"You delight in being awkward, don't you?" he sighed, dropping his wand hand to his side.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You were the one insisting that we don't use magic to dig it up, and that I don't touch it as I may lose an arm, which," he paused a second cocking his head to one side and looked thoughtful, "by the way, is odd because I hadn't realised you cared," he carried on in a sugary sweet tone.

Harry blushed and his jaw clenched.

"So I really don't think that throwing a hex at it will do much good," he finished. Draco crossed his arms in finality.

"I didn't ask for your advice. And it wasn't concern. I just didn't want to have to explain to Snape why you never showed up again."

"See?" Draco said, gesturing with one hand in Potter's direction. "This is the reason that people get the idea that you don't like me. A complete disregard for my wellbeing."

Instead of answering, Harry, still staring at Draco, gestured as the goblet with his wand and a bright burst of blue shot from the end of his wand. With a screech, Draco threw himself away from the box, his hands covering his head. He landed on the ground and for a second he was winded enough not to notice anything. When he did get his bearings all he could hear was the snorting laughter coming from the Bastard-Who-Lived.

Standing up, he pulled his wand and turned to face the Boy-Who-Needed-a-Firm-Arse-Kicking, and snarled. "You idiot, Potter. What the hell did you do?"

Wiping a tear from his eye and leaving a dark smudge of dirt on his cheek, the brunet managed to contain himself long enough to reply. "It's was a monitoring spell, you wanker," he replied.

Angry beyond words, Draco threw a hex at the smiling moron.

The next few moments were a blur of hexes, and the Dark Lord himself could have wandered up, made a cup of tea before performing a jig in a tutu, and neither one would have noticed.

That was until one of Potter's curses missed its mark and hit the box. In unison, and identical looks of horror, they turned to stare at the now vibrating goblet.

"Shit," Harry said.

They both ran.

When the box exploded in a wave of energy, they were both sat behind a tree, hands over their heads.

A couple of the tree branches dropped off and a wave of dirt was thrown in their direction, but luckily they found themselves relatively unscathed. Carefully they picked their way back over to it. Draco would have made some sort of comment about the state of Potter's hair or the dirt smeared over his face, but knew that chances were he was in the same state.

They stood staring down at the completely unharmed and once again innocuous goblet.

"I know you have this whole, 'let's do without the sidekicks' thing going on right now, and I am always loath to ask help from the shrew, but..." Draco began.

"Hermione?"

"Yes."

***

Draco refused to say anything until he had had a shower when they arrived at Grimmauld Place. Not that anyone really wanted to speak to him anyway. It was only his Godfather that was willing to say hello, but considering how laconic the man could be and Draco's hesitance in speaking to someone he knew was dead in his timeline, he managed to get away from the crowds relatively untouched. It had been a tough choice however as, when he had left, Potter was being chewed out by his little chums, but a shower was more important that watching the action. Marginally.

When he was fully dressed he left the bathroom only to find Potter sitting on the bed cross legged, and plucking at a loose thread on the duvet.

Draco sighed. "You realise it's going to be hard to stalk someone who doesn't stay fixed at one point in time?"

Potter looked up and blinked owlishly at him.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down on the end of the bed. He had assumed that he was here to help Potter destroy the horcrux and sitting up here whilst Granger was downstairs probably having the time of her life testing and researching ways to destroy it was not going to help Draco move forward under the spell.

"What are you doing in here, Potter?" he asked resignedly.

They all dislike you, so they wouldn't think to check in here to find me and give me another telling off."

Draco feigned astonishment. "And hearing my particular brand of vitriol is kinder than them nagging at you? I'm shocked. And slightly appalled. I had hoped that we had come further than mere dislike to blind hatred."

Potter ducked his head, and for a moment Draco felt sure he heard a snuffling laugh from underneath the mop of untidy hair.

"Just go downstairs Potter and make it up with your little friends," Draco continued. He hoped for a second there had been enough vehemence in his tone, and not a hint of sympathy. Sympathy which he didn't feel, of course.

"I can't. I need to stay away from them," Potter muttered.

"Why? Do you have a communicable disease of some kind?"

Potter resumed pulling at the thread.

Draco tried a different tact. "Why are you so bloody maudlin, Potter? You have friends who for some reason feel concern for you, and all you do is push them away to find solace in my presence, which, I might add, is just strange as I have never encouraged any hint of kinship between us," Draco snapped, his voice exasperated and slightly angry. He wasn't entirely sure why he was trying to get a rise out of Harry...Potter. Perhaps he missed their usual banter. He didn't care to think too much on it, especially as his internal monologue seemed to keep calling him Harry.

Potter.

The brunet's eyes were wide with shock at the sudden change in tone.

"What? Did you expect me to be kind to you? Hardly," Draco sneered, "especially as you are being a complete moron."

"I can't get close to them. Not after... I'm the one Voldemort has his eye on, I'm the one who is central to this whole bloody war, I'm the one that will win or lose this war!" Potter started to snarl, green eyes flashing angrily. The thread was ripped free, leaving a puckered snag in the duvet. He stood up angrily to stare down at Draco.

"What the hell is your problem, Potter? I had thought you were egotistical in school, but Merlin, have a Dark Lord to kill, and all of a sudden your ego could fill an entire Quidditch pitch." The blond stood up to continue to yell at him, again pleased with their height difference that allowed him look down on the shorter man.

Harry looked furious. "You have no idea what you're saying! I didn't ask to play the saviour. I didn't want any of this!" He yelled back at Draco, who stared back unfazed. The brunet took a step forwards, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as if he was about to hit something or someone.

"I'm not feeling sorry for you Potter; I'll leave the weeping and violin playing to your adoring fans," Draco replied sarcastically, waving his hand as if to hurry the conversation up, "You're not indestructible, you utter imbecile, and you forget, Potter that I went to school with you, and I know for a fact that even bloody Granger knows more spell work now than you ever will. You need the idiots, even if you are too stupid to see that, and hiding yourself away is not only going to get you killed..."

"I won't have them in the front lines!"

"Then you may as well set off a bouncing Avada in Grimmauld Place and have done, because I know for a fact we won't win this war if you continue to act like a brainless horklump!" Draco's voice rose with every word and ended up stood mere inches away from the other man, his face flushed, his eyes narrowed, an errant finger coming up to poke Potter sharply in the chest to emphasise his tirade.

There was silence for a moment as the brunet stared angrily back, green eyes searching for something in grey. Harry's breath was hot against his lips, and for an insane moment Draco was sure that the other man's glance had strayed down to his mouth. That couldn't be right could it? And no, Draco did not feel a thread of arousal heating his stomach at the thought.

"A horklump?" Harry finally asked.

"What?" Draco found himself still yelling the word.

A smirk played over Potter's face. "You called me a horklump. Of all of the insults you could have come up with, that was the one you went with."

"Apparently spending time with you is causing me to lose IQ points at a high rate, so lets keep the rest of this mission short shall we?" Draco said primly as he backed away to a slightly more respectable distance from the Gryffindor.

Potter sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair making a tuft to stick up in the centre of his head.

"I'm being an idiot aren't I?"

Draco rose an eyebrow and smirked. "An idiot is one word for it, moron, cretin, pillock are others..."

"Ok," Potter said breaking into the tirade of names with a tired grin and turned to walk to the door.

All of a sudden, a strange sensation passed over Draco, and a quick glance down confirmed his suspicion. His hand was disappearing. But the horcrux hadn't been destroyed, nothing had been fixed, had it?

"Are you coming?" Potter asked, but when he turned around, Draco had gone.

***

Draco's eyes opened and could feel himself instantly toppling over as ghastly noise assaulted his ears. The world span; the air around him rich with sparks and colours and all he could hear was shouting, and for a moment Draco couldn't focus enough to rid himself of the cacophony. Darkness flickered at the corners of his eyes as the onslaught started to become too much of a change after sitting in a nearly silent room with Potter, to him, only moments ago. Before he could right himself, someone skidded across the floor, knocking Draco to the ground.

His breath came more quickly as his jumbled mind tried to make sense of where he had woken up and he thrashed to get out of the tangle of limbs. He focused on the person in front of him, the wide eyes, red hair and freckled skin. The man was trying to say something to him, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Weasley grabbed his shoulders trying to force him to focus, when all Draco wanted to do was to stop him moving. He had just travelled through time and had apparently fallen directly into a war zone. He couldn't focus!

A single scream rent the night in two, the noise as if the world had ended and cut through Draco's confusion like nothing else could.

He and Weasley heard it at the same time, and their eyes snapped across the room, where they could just make out the still form of Harry Potter crouching over someone who was lying on the floor, far too still.

He didn't know what he was supposed to feel, but he was sure that their usual mutual enmity meant that he shouldn't feel any sorrow for the man, and yet there seemed to be something in the pit of his stomach.

Draco glanced around the room quickly, noting that everyone had stopped their own fights to stare at the three figures at the far end, Harry, the fallen man and Bellatrix Lestrange. He wasn't sure where they were, only that the décor looked vaguely like they were at the Ministry. There was too large a group for it to be just a small mission; the room was practically full of Order members and Death Eaters.

He stared at the three of them, his heart suddenly thudding painfully. No one seemed to be making a move to help Potter as he stayed on the floor clutching the fallen man in his arms, practically keening. No one moved when Bella raised her wand and cackled.

Why was no one moving?

The Order members in fact seemed to be moving back slightly and Weasel's hands seemed to clench where they were holding onto Draco's arms.

The blond jerked away form the strong hands almost angrily, breaking their grip. "Malfoy, don't," the man hissed. "You don't know what he's capable of."

Draco looked back at the other man incredulously. Was that fear in he could hear?

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley, this is Golden boy we're talking about. Do you want him to end up as Aunt Bella's plaything?"

Draco snarled at the man who tried to grab him back as he started to move away. He pushed his way through the standing crowd but was pulled up short when the room started to shake. He could see the Order members carry on backing away, and the Death Eaters duck as bits of masonry started to fall.

A movement caught his eyes and when he looked back at Potter, the man was standing his wand cast aside on the floor, his head ducked, still staring at the ground. Draco was close enough now that he could see the tension in the man's back.

He took another step forward when the room shook once and then stood still as the laughter stopped abruptly with a choke.

Draco watched in horror as Bellatrix's body was flung back against the wall, and she started to claw manically at her throat with long nails, the sleeves of her robe falling away from delicate wrists. She was leaving bloody streaks in her own flesh as she tried to release whatever had its hold on her. Her eyes bulged as she started to scramble. Her long tangled hair fell forwards, obscuring the frightened eyes that stared at Potter.

Without another thought Draco ran forwards, pushing the last person out of the way in his haste to get to Harry. It couldn't happen. He wasn't sure what had gripped him, but this wasn't right. How could Harry stop Voldemort if he became him?

"Harry," he yelled, as he grabbed the man's cold arm. Dead green eyes turned to look unseeingly at Draco, and the blond gasped at the change. To him, only moments ago, Harry had been smiling at him.

A sudden force pushed him back and there was a roaring in his ears as he fell to the floor. Harry went back to staring at Bella. Draco was angry. If he was supposed to bring the balance to the end of the war so that Light could win, he was damned well not going to let an idiot like Potter stop him.

"Potter!" he screamed angrily as he stood upright. "You too much of a coward to face me?" he continued.

Harry seemed to stop for a second, but the choking still carried on. Draco tried to stop the bile rising in his throat.

"What happened to you since I last saw you? What's killing her going to achieve? Except for endless guilt trips that I shall have to put up with every time I get stuck with you."

Harry turned to face him. "Really, I get so very bored with your endless whining I don't want this to be added to the list. I'm not cursed to visit you to become a bloody therapist," he said snidely. "If I wanted to listen to whining, I would have spent more time with Pansy during her dieting stage. You wouldn't believe how often she would sit there complaining about eating a banana. You would have thought the world was ending the way she went on. It was only a fucking banana. Not important."

He paused and watched as Harry's eyes seemed to start calming down.

"She's not important enough to make her your first kill, Harry," he said softly now that he had the man's attention. The name slipped off of his tongue much more easily than he would have expected.

Harry stood to one side and gestured at the fallen man. Lupin's face was slack, his eyes empty. Draco closed his eyes a second, catching his breath. He had never been close with Lupin, but he hadn't deserved that. "She killed him," Harry whispered, his voice cracking.

"I know," Draco replied quietly.

"She deserves it."

Draco shrugged. "That hag deserves a lot of things, a straight jacket for a start." He could feel someone moving and a quick glance form the corner of his eyes showed that Order members were starting to move to finish off the last of the waiting Death Eaters, too involved in watching one of the Dark Lord's inner circle being choked to death. Draco knew that they could look after the rest of the room accepting that for some strange reason Harry was listening to a Malfoy.

Harry watched Draco for a second. In a split instant his face crumpled, a choking Bella collapsed to the floor rasping and coughing, and the Order had surrounded and unarmed the remaining Death Eaters.

The brunet collapsed to the floor and started to cry. Silent tears with shaking shoulders. Unsure about physical affection, Draco moved forwards slightly and knelt beside the broken man. In seconds Harry had wrapped strong arms around him and was sobbing into his shoulder.

Draco stiffened, unused to the feeling. After long minutes he placed hesitant arms around the other man, confused as to the tightness in his chest and stinging eyes.

After another few minutes, it almost felt natural. He closed his eyes and a familiar sensation rushed through his body, more urgent this time. "Not yet," he managed to gasp out before the world disappeared.

***

"Right on time."

Draco blinked and span on his heel, his cloak whirling around his legs. He was surprised when only a faint dizziness jarred his world for a moment; he was getting used to travelling through time. Either that, or this time he wasn't being hit, knocked out or cursed at, which would surely help maintain anyone's equilibrium.

Behind him, Hermione Granger sat on the comfortable chair that Draco recognised as being in Grimmauld Place. A small jolt in his stomach was unexpected when he realised Harry wasn't in the room.

"He's been hoping you would show. Not that he'll admit it though," Hermione continued, not caring at all about Draco's reticence.

Draco snorted. "I doubt he even realises when I've gone." He tossed his head, blond hair spilling over his shoulder as he pulled himself to his full height.

Shadows crossed her face for a moment. She took a small sip from the cut glass tumbler in her hand, her face wrinkling as she swallowed the amber liquid it held. Even from a few steps away Draco could smell the rich potent smell of whisky. "I wish that were true," she whispered. Before he could take offence, she sat forwards from her reclines position, and stared at him hard, her brown eyes cold.

"Do you know what day it is?" She asked suddenly.

Draco's face settled into something more like normalcy, her abrupt question allowing him to break the unwanted staring match. Working his way into a sneer, he replied, "Of course not. Wonderful thing about this spell, you don't get to decide where you land. Or did you assume I chose to end up each time right in the middle of something that could get me killed?"

She laughed darkly, settling back once more into the warm embrace of the worn stuffed chair. It was then that Draco realised why he had felt something was wrong since he had arrived. There were no noises. Usually as Order Headquarters, people were moving around, talking and yelling at all hours. The house would practically vibrate.

At this moment Draco couldn't even hear a house elf moving. It was completely and utterly silent.

He took a closer look at Granger. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and hid her face adequately. However if he paid attention he could see the pallor of her skin, and the exhaustion in her every movement, the fright in her eyes.

A prickling sense o realisation crawled up his spine. He couldn't have reached this moment already?

"It's tomorrow." Her words were almost wistful, longing for it to be over, hoping it would never start. Afraid of the ending.

Her eyes skittered back to him. "You've finally chosen a side, Malfoy, but I suppose tomorrow we will see if you changed the outcome."

Draco, whose thought had begun to wander, physically jerked his head back around to her. "What? How did you..."

She laughed, a hard brittle noise. "I'm not stupid. Why would you come back at all if there wasn't something in it for you? We lost, which means you lost. So the question is Draco Malfoy." She paused as she stood up and walked towards him, "the question on the tip of everyone's tongue is, did you fix it?"

Her words ended in almost whisper as she stepped mere inches away, her petite stature barely reaching his chin, and yet still as commanding as someone twice her physical size.

He met her brown eyes dead on, for once his face without guilt as she looked her fill. He hoped he managed to convey a confidence that he did not feel.

Slowly she backed away. Hermione set her glass on the small table quietly. Draco, with some surprise could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Do you know how galling it is to know, that at the end, you are the once who was given opportunity to play .........justice?.....? You who have barely fought a day in his life?"

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes tiredly as she headed or the door

"Where's Harry?" he blurted out finally re-finding his voice. Her words echoed his own private thoughts, but even now when honesty was the last thing he could do, he couldn't, wouldn't let himself show that to her.

Her hand on the door knob, she paused, glancing over her shoulder, her curly hair all but covering her face.

"In his room, "and Malfoy?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Look after him."

She left before he could reply. When the door clicked closed he almost ran forwards to collapse in the vacated chair. He picked up the glass and swallowed the contents in one gulp. The liquid burned as it went down, his eyes watering. In the back of his head he could almost hear his father criticising for drinking fine scotch like a heathen, but Draco paid no attention. After all, downing scotch was not the worst thing he has ever done in his father's eyes. Now helping the Light...

Pouring himself another measure from the decanter sitting on the table, he half heartedly saluted his absent father, knocking the liquid back in short order.

When the last of the burn faded from his lips, he went to find Harry.

***

"Go away," a voice called, the irritated tone, suggesting that this was not the first time someone had tried to enter.

"It's me Potter. I'm freezing my arse off in the drafty old house of yours, so let me in," Draco replied snarkily. After Hermione he didn't think that could cope with even more melancholy.

The door was flung open even before he finished talking. Snark would get Harry every time.

"I know you were brought up by Muggles but even you should know basic manners," he continued, more softly, but with no less derision.

Harry looked awful. His hair was more of a mess than usual, his skin pale beneath his tan, eyes wide. As Draco insulted, he couldn't help but notice the smile starting to chase away some of the fear he could see in the green depths.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Move out of the doorway, Harry."

The other man moved, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Draco strode into the room and looked around. Not that that he could see much in the darkness. Muttering a quick Lumos he turned to face the shorter man. "What were you doing, sitting by yourself? Bemoaning your fate in complete darkness?"

A quick glance at the man in question who was now sporting a sheepish look answered his question.

Draco shook his head. "Merlin save us from tragic heroes," he sighed as he set to work. Minutes later a fire was warming the room nicely and a light filled the corners of the room and he had created another seat next to the one by the fireplace which Harry had obviously just vacated to answer the door. Sitting down primly, he Accioed the bottle of scotch from downstairs along and transfigured a couple of galleons on the small table into two glasses. He picked one up and eyed the glass with a critical eye; transfiguration had never been his strongest discipline.

"Sit. Down." He instructed very slowly as if talking to a child. Or a Hufflepuff.

He didn't once glance at the other man as he sat in the opposite chair. Draco poured two measures and they both picked up a glass, clinking the sides together before taking a sip. Potter swallowed far too much and ended up choking. Draco couldn't stop himself smirking.

"Shut up," Harry grumbled, his cheeks red as he stared into the glass.

"Stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself," Draco said finally with a flick of his wrist. The liquid in the glass sloshed up the sides dangerously.

Harry leaned back in his chair, ruffled hair hanging low over his brow, only his famous scar showing, as if reminding Draco as to why he was here. The brunet's jeans were scruffy and the jumper he wore was oversized and decorated with a large H in purple emblazoned across the front, clashing horribly with the bright orange wool it was knitted in. He was a mess, and yet Draco didn't feel the urge to mock. He supposed that he had grown strangely used to the other man.

Finally, Draco sighed and conjured a pack of cards. "Exploding snap?"

"What?" Harry's eyes flicked up in confusion, taking in the cards and Draco's matter of fact face.

"Well I would have suggested chess, but I feel that is a game that is far too advanced for your small brain."

Harry snorted. "You should play Ron one day, he's Gryffindor's reigning champion."

"Huh," Draco replied with surprise. "Well in that case one day I suppose I shall have to beat him mercilessly on the chess board, but until then I shall put my own brain to one side and play this with you."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "I'd like to see you play chess with Ron. You will, won't you? When this is over?"

Draco wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew it was important to answer.

He nodded slowly, watching Harry closely all the time. "Yes. He'll lose, and seeing his face match his hair will be so easy to mock."

Harry sniggered.

"Now, are you going to play or make small talk?"

They played exploding snap for easily an hour, the game finally becoming more frantic until they were both laughing, and cursing each other. After Draco sent a giggling hex at Harry the first time to give himself the upper hand, any rules they had been playing by seemed to fly out of the window. If Draco was surprised at how dirty Harry could play, he didn't show it but made it his mission to cheat even more.

Finally, smoke covering their faces, sitting side by side so they could elbow each other to get the last pile Draco finally won. Crowing came naturally. One minute Draco was throwing his hands in the air, cards flying everywhere as he cheered, and the next Harry's lips were on his.

Draco was silent a moment, as the lips on his stayed unmoving. He pushed Harry back slightly. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked.

Harry blushed but refused to look away, his face a picture of determination. "I had thought that was obvious, Malfoy."

Draco cocked his head and his eyes narrowed for a moment trying to determine if this was what he needed to do. Finally he realised he didn't care if this was what he was supposed to do, it was what he wanted to do. In a split second he had grabbed Harry's head and mashed their mouths together. Sometime later they made it from the living room into the bedroom, and it was there they stayed.

For the next hour nothing but moans, gasps, and the occasional giggle split the silence of the room. It wasn't gentle, but it was perfect.

***

"What will you do when this is all over?" Harry asked, his voice breaking the, for once
peaceful, silence between them. They were lying on Harry's bed, the covers somewhere on the other side of the room, but the fire in the room next door and their recent exertions kept them warm. Draco dragged a finger through the cooling sweat on Harry's inner arm that was thrown over Draco's chest, eliciting a gasp.

He turned his head to watch as Harry's face become painfully blank his eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling, resolutely ignoring the blond's inquisitive gaze. He blew gently against Harry's ear, smirking at the shiver.

"I liked the south of France. I'll probably go back. Its warm there and the house is all ready and waiting," Draco replied, his eyes growing heavy and he stretched slightly, loving the feel of his sated body flush against Harry's.

"I've never been to France," was the quiet reply.

Draco bit his lip, and watched Harry through lowered lids, almost hiding his face against the brunet. "I have a spare room," he finally said trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

Green eyes closed and a smile graced the full lips. It made Draco's chest ache.

The only answer was the slide of fingers against Draco's own. When he finally closed his own eyes to go to sleep, he could still feel trapped between their bodies, Harry's warm hand wrapped tightly around his.

***

"It's over."

Draco's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring at his Godfather, noticing the afternoon sun once again streaming through the man, and recognising the hideous painting on the opposite wall. His Godfather was dead. The battle.

With sudden panic he leaned over the window and stared down, trying to see through the smoke on the battlefield, recognising the same blackened field from so long ago when this had all happened the first time.

"I fail to see why you are so anxious. The Light won. You can go back to France secure in the knowledge that no one will come for you."

Draco's head swivelled to look at his Godfather, breath coming quickly, his throat easing enough at the news to gasp out, "The Light won?"

"Indeed. Justice has been served. Balance has been restored to the Wizarding World, as the old coot of a Headmaster would no doubt be waxing lyrical about now if he was still here. Or probably is in his Portrait," Snape said dryly. Something seemed to pass over the man's face, almost as if he recognised something that he couldn't get, and echo of a conversation. This conversation in another time.

A smile split Draco's face and without another thought he ran from the room.

Five minutes later and Draco was cursing the size of the castle. When he finally made it outside he ran directly to where a group of people were cheering. Death Eater's were being rounded up and bound. The wounded were being collected and looked after by their friends and families. Draco tried to ignore the chaos around him, slipping in a mixture of blood and mud on the ground, knowing that this was what it was all about.

But the Light had won.

Heart pounding, he finally made it to the group of the Order cheering tiredly. But where was Harry?

He pushed his way through people until he found Weasley next to Hermione, her head buried in his shoulder, shaking.

"Where's...?" He stopped abruptly the look on Weasley's face making his heart pound and his hands begin to shake.

"No," he gasped out, blond head shaking in denial.

He had been holding Harry not a few minutes ago. They had been planning...

He had fixed it, the Light had won, justice had been done.

"Fairness isn't needed here, but balance, justice, may be."

Snape's words echoed in his head. He looked away from the two of them, for a brief second seeing shaggy brown hair wet in the mud, tanned skin pale, one hand outstretched reaching towards him, before he choked and looked away. The world went quiet and collapsed. Not fair...

Slowly he turned to Weasley. "Let's play chess." His voice was dead as he spoke and Weasley looked at him in confusion, his face wet with tears.

"He told me that you were good. He wanted us to play."

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and other Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling and her associated businesses. The Harry/Draco World Cup and its participants make no claim upon them.