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“He’s dead.” Draco’s voice is shaky.
Harry pulls the mobile closer to his ear and turns the volume down. “What?”
“He’s dead,” Draco repeats. “I killed him.”
“Fuck.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut, thinking hard. “Where are you?”
“Camden Town. Near the market.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right there. Stay hidden.”
Harry pinches the bridge of his nose.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Robards is dead.
It’s only a matter of time before he and Draco are too.
***
“In here.” Harry pulls Draco into the cabin with him. It’s pitch dark outside, the tall trees hiding any light from the stars.
Harry flips on the light as they enter, listening to the slight buzz of ancient electric wiring. He flops his go-bag onto the ground.
It seems like it’s been hours since he got the call, but it’s only been about ten minutes. Ten minutes of illegally-placed Apparition, of dragging Draco to the safehouse in Camden only to be set upon by the Aurors, of hastily placed calls to Hermione, and some more illegal Apparition into a protected forest.
Throughout all that time, Draco hadn’t said a word. Now, finally, Harry turns to look at him, really look at him.
Draco looks like a drowned man.
His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, and Harry’s never seen him so pale.There are bags under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled and covered in dirt, and he won’t meet Harry’s gaze.
Harry’s heart breaks in two. This is his fault. Draco should be safe, and happy, and far away from here.
“Look at me.”
Draco slowly lifts his head, but still doesn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “It was self defense.”
“Draco. Look at me.”
When Draco’s eyes finally meet his, Harry can’t help the surge of emotion in his chest. “I’m getting you out,” he says.
“What?”
“I’m getting you out,” Harry repeats. “I’ll take you back to the continent. It’s too dangerous for you here, now.”
Draco’s expression stiffens. “And it’s not too dangerous for you? I’m not a coward, Potter. Not anymore. You made sure of that.”
Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t Potter me, Draco. I know you’re not a coward. This is for your own safety.”
“Since when do you care about my safety?” Draco snaps.
Since the day Harry had walked into Draco’s studio apartment in Paris, since he had seen the walls covered in paint and Draco’s arms covered in ink, since he had asked Draco to come with him and Draco had said yes.
“Draco,” Harry says softly, “they’re going to know you’re involved, now. They’re not just coming after me anymore.”
“I know.”
Harry sighs and looks down at the floor. His eyes catch on spots of red, and he looks up slightly to see blood pooling around Draco’s feet.
“What happened?” he asks sharply.
“Hm?” Draco looks down. “Oh, just a slashing curse. I’m fine.”
“Show me. Let me heal it.”
Draco’s expression hardens again at the pity in Harry’s voice. “I’m perfectly capable of healing my own leg, thank you. And I’m perfectly capable of deciding if and when I want out. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep now. You take first watch. Don’t wake me up until you’ve pulled your head out of your arse.”
Harry’s eyes follow the drips of blood as Draco turns and walks away.
***
The whole situation is Harry’s fault. Not just Draco’s involvement, although that is too. If he’d just snapped the Elder Wand in half before mending his own wand, Kingsley never would have had the chance to walk up to him, to ask about the wand, to convince him to give it to the Department of Mysteries.
Kingsley had promptly used the Elder Wand to secure his position as Minister of Magic, and immediately after, to take the Ministry and the country over from Voldemort.
No one had been prepared for a stronger power than Voldemort.
Kingsley had been planning it long before Voldemort’s return to power. Had conspired both to help Voldemort return, and then kill him off. Had his fingers deep in the Order, the Ministry, and the Death Eaters, long before he took hold of the Elder Wand.
Harry sighs, looking out the window into the darkness. He remembers the feeling of hope after he killed Voldemort. The feeling of hope that had only lasted an hour.
At first, there were all the Weasleys, and McGonagall and the other professors, and a lot of the DA, too, all fighting with Harry against Kingsley’s hold on the country. But one by one, they were killed or tortured, and after a few months, most of those surviving simply fled Britain for safety.
Hermione and Ron were the last to leave him, just a year ago, when they’d found out Hermione was pregnant. They still answer Harry’s calls, and try to help from America, but they’re not here, and Harry misses them every day.
Now, three years after Kingsley took power and one year after Hermione and Ron left, Harry is in a cabin, in the woods, with the one person in the country he trusts.
He really does need to pull his head out of his arse. He needs Draco. He can’t do this alone. And as much as the thought of Draco getting hurt—or worse—pains him, he knows he can’t send him away.
***
Harry jumps up from his seat on the couch at the sound of breaking glass. He sees a figure dressed in black leap through the window as he sprints to the cabin’s sleeping area to grab Draco.
Draco’s awake, his eyes wide in alarm as Harry grabs him. Harry’s about to wordlessly Apparate them to the next safe house, but there’s a bright light and a pain so sharp Harry screams and then…
And th…
Nothing.
***
Harry blinks his eyes open only to find complete darkness. A burning pain laces up and down his spine, and he has to hold in a groan.
Slowly, his eyes adjust. He takes in the pointy, beautiful, pale man staring down at him.
Draco’s face is lined with worry. “Harry. Harry, can you hear me?”
Harry opens his mouth to reply, but the groan escapes him instead.
“Harry. Talk to me.”
“Hi,” Harry croaks, then gasps as he tries to lift his head.
“No, no, no. Don’t move. Don’t move, okay? Harry?” Draco lifts his hand up to Harry’s face, stopping it just before it meets his skin. “Do you have your phone?”
“Back pocket,” Harry gets out.
Draco’s hands are so, so gentle as he reaches for the phone. “I’m calling Hermione, okay? She’s going to tell me what to do. You’re going to be fine, Harry. You’re going to be fine.”
Harry’s eyelids are so heavy. He lets them shut.
Draco’s voice raises an octave, but it sounds far away now. “Harry James Potter, you open your eyes right now, I am not losing you—”
***
The first thing that Harry notices when he wakes up this time is the distinct lack of pain. He opens his eyes to take in the interior of a lit cabin, one he’s never been in before.
Slowly, slowly, he sits up. The cabin is tiny, just one room, and he’s laying on what appears to be the only bed. There’s a single couch across from him and a small kitchen by the door.
He doesn’t see Draco.
Harry steps off of the bed, shocked to still not have even the slightest bit of pain at standing. He finds his wand in his pocket and pulls it out, quietly walking to the front door to assess the situation.
The door swings open just as he gets there, and Harry runs right into a very startled Draco.
“You’re awake!” Draco exclaims, stepping away from Harry and looking him up and down. “How do you feel?”
“I feel great.” Harry smiles.
Draco gives him a quick smile back. “Good.”
“Where are we?”
“Hermione told me about it. It’s one of Bill’s old safehouses.”
Draco looks so relaxed, so relieved, and Harry’s heart is so content to see him this way that he almost doesn’t register the words.
One of Bill’s old safehouses. Harry freezes.
“This isn’t the one in Abernethy Forest, is it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Fuck.”
“What is it?” Draco looks just as tense as Harry feels, now.
“They know about this one. Arthur came here a few months ago when he was looking for Molly’s brother, and he barely got out. We need to leave, now.”
Harry stands, and Draco quickly walks over to grab his arm. Harry pictures the safehouse on Great Cumbrae, lets the Apparition take hold of him, and—
And nothing.
“They must have an Anti-Disapparition Jinx set up here.” Harry sighs.
“Can’t you get past those?” Draco snaps.
“I could try.” But even now, Harry can already sense the presence of the Elder Wand outside the cabin. For the most part, Kingsley’s sent his lackeys after Harry, never dealing with him personally.
He’s definitely here now, though. Harry casts a wordless, wandless Homenum Revelio to see if anyone else is out there.
“Well? Are you going to?”
“Draco. Listen to me.”
Draco meets his eyes, his expression softening out of annoyance and into concern.
“Kingsley is here.”
Draco grimaces, then rolls his eyes. “How flattering that he’s decided to grace us with his presence.”
“I think he’s alone.”
“Why would he come alone?”
“I don’t know. But it’s an opportunity.”
Draco nods in understanding, face determined. “You don’t want to try Disapparating. You want to fight him.”
Harry nods back. “It’s up to you, Draco. I could try to break through the spells holding us here. It might work.”
Tell me to try, Harry begs silently. Kingsley being alone, right now, is the best chance Harry’s had at taking him down since the day he gave him the Elder Wand. He knows they need to do this.
But all he wants to do is get Draco to safety.
“No,” Draco replies. “We’ll fight him.”
Harry nods silently.
They’ll fight Kingsley. Harry’s fought someone armed with the Elder Wand before, someone who wasn’t the true Master of the wand, and won. Maybe he’ll defeat Kingsley, too.
He turns to Draco.
Draco, who’d said yes when Harry showed up in Paris to recruit his help against Kingsley’s government. Draco, whose face shows all the determination and fierceness of a man at war. Draco, who’s had Harry’s back more times than he can count. Draco, the most beautiful man Harry’s ever known. Draco, brave Draco, who Harry would do almost anything for.
And Draco’s looking back at Harry, eyes filled with kindness. With hope.
Before he even realises what he’s doing, Harry’s right hand is cupping Draco’s jaw and his left is running fingers through that soft, blond hair. Draco doesn’t even look startled.
“I need to tell you something,” Harry says, voice low.
Draco’s eyes are heated. “Tell me tomorrow.”
And then Draco’s leaning down and closing the distance between them. The touch of their lips together is light, just a whisper, but it wakes up every nerve ending in Harry’s body.
Just as soon as it started, the kiss is over.
Draco smiles at Harry, and Harry can’t help his sad smile back.
“You ready?”
Draco nods, turning toward the door. “Let’s take him down. Now.”
They walk out the cabin side by side, wands raised and already casting.
The darkness of the forest erupts into brilliant light.