Harry tightened his knees against Buckbeak's flanks. The hippogriff huffed and settled down a bit. Malfoy's Thestral tossed his head as Harry pulled Buckbeak level with the Noble.

The gathered armies looked like fire in the reflection of the dawning sun. A few shouts of orders could be heard over the rattle of armour and thumping of hooves, but there was no idle conversation. Every mind was turned toward the battle before them. Harry knew most of the soldiers, like Ron Weasley, had never killed a man before. That idea would weigh heavy on their minds. It felt like a burden on Harry's, and his hands were not clean.

The Malfoy forces, headed by Harry and his guardsmen, were placed directly to the left of the Royal Guard. Harry and Lord Malfoy, two of the strongest fighters in camp, were part of the very front line.

Across the Dark Meadow the fog was rising, burned away by the sun. Light glittered on the armour of Lord Slytherin's forces. Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the front line stretching as long as their own. Horses and mounts on both sides snorted and danced in place.

The silence flexed as Shacklebolt relayed the King's orders. It stretched as he raised a purple-gloved fist slowly into the air. It shuddered and rippled and, when he dropped his arm like a blacksmith's hammer, it shattered.

Harry set his feet in his stirrups as Buckbeak raced forward. The war cries of both sides changed as the two lines hit each other. Clashes of metal, sword against sword, rang out, along with the first death screams of the battle.

Two swift movements on Harry's part blocked his first opponent's sword and cut the man open across his stomach. Harry didn't even have enough time to watch the man fall from his horse. He was already turning to strike at the next of Slytherin's fighters.

Again and again, men rushed Harry. Again and again, he raised his sword. Again and again and again, men died at his hands. Time lost meaning in the heat of the battle, the world no larger than the reach of his sword and Buckbeak's talons. His mail-backed gloves were soaked with hot blood, and the liquid ran in thick streams down his sword and spattered the hippogriff's feathers.

A shock ran down Harry's arm as his sword hit another man's shield. The impact dulled the nerves in his arm and slowed him down. His opponent struck before he could raise his sword high enough, slashing Harry across his upper arm. Harry hissed in pain as the blade pulled free. Buckbeak let out a screech and reared back, raking his talons across the man's body and ripping his shield from his grip. The man screamed as the hippogriff's beak tore into his shoulder. Another vicious peck at his neck silenced him.

"Good boy," Harry panted against Buckbeak's neck. He used the moment to catch his breath and look around him.

The two armies were mixed in together, each one trying push toward the other side. To Harry's right the Royal Guard was dispatching black-clad soldiers as they shoved forward. Harry thought he saw a flash of Weasley red hair within the group. Near them were Oliver and the Malfoy guard. Harry wished he had the time to do a head count of them all. To his left was Lord Malfoy, his pale hair and shining armour stained with gore.

"Potter!" The cry went up from within the Royal Guard. Harry snapped his head around, looking for the source. "Potter, the sky!" Harry looked up.

A shape was rising from the middle of the black army. Lord Slytherin, mounted on a grey Abraxan horse, was climbing over the battle, a long wand in his hand. As Harry watched, he fired off a curse into the Boot guard, to the right of the King's forces, that blew apart men and dirt and horses alike.

Harry tightened his grip on his sword and jabbed his heels into Buckbeak's sides. "Up!" he cried as he pressed himself against the hippogriff's feathered neck. With a loud hunting call, Buckbeak took two galloping steps and launched himself into the sky.

The sound of another set of wings behind him made him turn. Lord Malfoy had followed him into the air on the back of his Thestral, Glamis. The noble smirked at him. "You didn't think you could leave me on the ground, did you?"

Harry let out a wild laugh. "Never, my Lord!"

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something else but closed it again as he pulled Glamis sharply to the side. A curse passed through the space where he had been and struck the ground below. Harry turned to see Lord Nott, Slytherin's supporter, rising opposite them on a Thestral of his own.

"Get rid of him!" Malfoy ordered as he set his sights on Slytherin.

Harry shook his wand out of its holster and into his left hand. He tightened his knees around Buckbeak to hold on without the reigns. "Go!" he shouted, leaning the hippogriff toward Nott. Buckbeak screeched as he aimed toward the wings of Nott's Thestral, claws out.

Nott snarled at him as he approached. Harry flicked his wand, creating a shield, and Nott's curse slammed against it. Buckbeak collided with the Thestral, tearing at its neck with his sharp, bloody beak. The Thestral let out a scream and kicked.

Harry swung high, and his sword crashed against Nott's. He pulled back quickly, keeping his elbow tucked in to protect his side. "I don't want to kill you, Nott," he said.

"You'll have to," Nott replied. He struck out again.

Harry leaned back to avoid the blade. Buckbeak let go of the Thestral and shoved it away, flapping his huge wings to keep them in the air. Nott and Harry circled each other, studying and watching, waiting for the perfect opening. Nott sent another curse at him and it rolled sideways off another shield.

Nott urged his Thestral toward Harry with a wordless shout of frustration. Harry tensed, crouching in his stirrups, and met Nott's charge head-on. He locked blades with the noble and pushed until Nott turned in the saddle. Harry pressed the tip of his wand against the back of Nott's neck and spelled him into a deep sleep.

He drew back as Nott slumped against his Thestral's neck, sword and wand falling from his hands. The man wouldn't wake again for at least a few hours. It was a spell Severus had taught him, one that was used on patients before a very painful treatment. Harry slapped the Thestral on the rump and sent it toward the ground.

"Let's end this," Harry growled. He gripped Buckbeak's feathers as tight as he could and guided him upward toward the flashing lights and clanging steel of Malfoy and Slytherin's fight.

-0-

Draco shot upward with a gasp, his hands grabbing blindly at the bedding. His heart was racing, blood pound so hard that he couldn't see anything but pulsing red. Panic, excitement, adrenaline, fear- so much fear, so afraid…

Draco bowed over, touching his forehead to his knees, and sucked in deep breaths until he could see again. The pounding red slowly cleared from his vision. Feeling able to stand, Draco wrapped his morning robe around himself and wandered out into the hall, silent on bare feet.

The halls were empty. Dawn was nothing more than a faint wash of grey light outside. Not even the most dedicated servants were up. Draco's breath, still drawn in too fast, too rough, turned to frost in the winter air. The stone floors were harsh against his feet, turning his toes blue with cold.

The panic, barely controlled by his breathing exercise, began to push at his mind again. Draco walked faster, nearly breaking into a run, until he was outside the door to his mother's rooms. Not bothering to knock, he threw open the door and rushed inside.

Narcissa was already awake, or perhaps she had not slept at all. Her face was pale and her hair wild as she stood before her window, clutching at her own morning robe. It was a gift from Draco's father, quilted wool in the pale blue colour of the House of Malfoy. Draco caught sight of tears on her face before she gathered him into her arms.

"Mother," Draco gasped, clutching onto the back of her robe just as she held his. "Mother, I'm so afraid."

"I know," Narcissa whispered. "I can feel it too." She leaned back and took his face in her hands. She stroked her thumbs over his cheekbones, a gentle touch that wiped away tears he had not realised had fallen.

"Why?"

"The battle has begun." Her voiced sounded far away. "My Lucius has gone to fight with your Harry by his side." She met his gaze with eyes full of turmoil. "They will protect each other."

"Do you truly believe that?"

"I must, Draco."

-0-

Fury roared through Harry as he watched Malfoy's sword drop from his hand, glinting in the sunlight as it fell to the earth. Malfoy bowed over his Thestral's back, clutching at the gaping wound in his thigh. Slytherin raised his wand, triumph in his face, and aimed it at Malfoy's wounded form.

"NO!"

Harry's magic rushed out of him, blasting Slytherin away from his Lord. Slytherin's Abraxan let out a high whine, flapping desperately to avoid plummeting from the sky. Harry spurred Buckbeak to Malfoy's side.

"Hang on, my Lord." He wrapped the Thestral's reigns around Malfoy's hands to keep him on its back, then slapped the animal on the rump. "Down, Glamis! Get safe!"

The Thestral let out its high, eerie call and tucked its wings in, dropping down before angling back toward the encampment, behind the fighting. Harry watched long enough to make sure Glamis found safety.

"Commendable, Captain Potter," Slytherin called, reigning his Abraxan in and levelling off above Harry. "Ever protective."

"Yes, I am," Harry called back. "I thought you'd figured that out."

"Of course." Slytherin sneered. "It makes you weak."

"On the contrary," Harry replied. He cast a shield as Slytherin's curse slammed into it. The shield shuddered but held. "It makes me strong." With a flick of his wrist, Harry fired off a curse of his own. It splashed off Slytherin's shield, and the fight began in earnest.

Buckbeak and Slytherin's Abraxan circled each other. The hippogriff had the advantage of a sharp beak, hissing and pecking savagely at the Abraxan whenever he could. The Abraxan screamed as Buckbeak tore a long strip from one of its wings.

Harry and Slytherin were more evenly matched. They met each other curse for curse, tossing them aside or letting them strike shields and split apart. Harry was powerful, but so was Slytherin, and the false Lord wielded foul magics well. Harry shuddered as a sickly yellow curse hit his shield, Slytherin's magic feeling slimy against his own.

He ducked another spell, letting it zip over his head and dissipate as he leaned close to Buckbeak's head. "Get closer." He cast a shield that hugged close to his body, hoping it would be strong enough to survive the battering Slytherin would give it.

Buckbeak ducked under the Abraxan's wounded wing, bringing Harry within arm's reach of Slytherin. He grit his teeth as his shield shook and fractured under Slytherin's spells and poured more of his dwindling magic into it. He could not let it fall. He tightened his grip on his sword.

Slytherin met his first strike with a ringing parry. Harry pressed forward. If he couldn't overpower Slytherin with magic, he would do it with steel.

It was infinitely more difficult to fight from horseback in the sky. Harry spared a thought to despair that he had never thought to train on one of the Malfoy Thestrals as he ducked under one of Buckbeak's wings. He snapped his sword up just in time to block a strike from Slytherin as the hippogriff's wing swept out of the way. He had no time for what-ifs and shook the stray thoughts from his mind.

Harry ducked low to avoid a thrust toward his throat, clinging to Buckbeak's neck as Slytherin's blade whistled through the air above him. Focused on Slytherin's sword and his sight half blocked by hippogriff feathers, he didn't see the Abraxan's back leg kick out as Buckbeak bit savagely into the winged horse's flank.

The Abraxan's hoof slammed into his knee. Harry let out a shout through clenched teeth as he felt something snap in the joint. Tears welled up in his eyes, blinding him. Buckbeak struggled to get away from Slytherin's Abraxan, but their wings were too close together, half tangled up. Distracted by the pain, Harry's grip on his magic faltered and his shield fell.

"AHH!" Harry screamed as Slytherin's sword slammed down on his back, shattering the links of his mail hauberk and cutting deep into the muscle. It burned as the Slytherin pulled it free, like the red steel in the Weasley twins' weapons forge. Harry collapsed forward against Buckbeak with a whimper.

"How strong do you feel now, Captain Potter?" Slytherin shouted. Harry's blood dripped off his blade as he raised it over his head.

A flash of spell light from the ground caught Harry's eye. "Strong enough," he replied, raising his head to watch the spell hit Slytherin and destroy his shields, "for this."

Harry thrust out his arm, stabbing his sword deep into Slytherin's stomach. A gasp tore from the man's throat. Harry twisted the sword viciously, watching blood ooze from between the dying man's pale lips.

"I told you," Harry rasped, his voice cracked from his scream. "I told you I would kill you for threatening him."

Slytherin laughed, a disgusting, bubbling noise without humour. His teeth were coated in red when he smiled, blood dripping down his chin. "So you did."

Harry tugged his sword free from Slytherin's stomach, feeling it scrape against ribs on the way. His back felt as though he was ripping it apart as he raised his blade high, his muscles twisting and pulling, blood pouring freely from the wound. Black spots danced around the edge of his vision. Harry swept his sword across in a single decisive movement.

Slytherin's head tumbled back off his next and fell, rolling in the air and spraying drops of blood before it disappeared into the fight below.

With a last effort, Harry raised his good leg and landed a solid kick in the centre of Slytherin's chest. What remained of his body followed his head, sliding off the back of the Abraxan and falling heavily. Buckbeak shoved the winged horse away and circled as he let out a long, victorious call. Slumped over the hippogriff's neck, Harry watched the fighters below look up at the noise and see the fall of Lord Slytherin. The last of the black clad fighters, those still alive and able to move, withdrew, fleeing for safety on the far side of the Dark Meadow and their camp.

Harry tangled his fingers in Buckbeak's feathers and gripped as tightly as he could, unable to move his broken knee. He would have to trust the hippogriff to keep him from falling. Every muscle in his body twitched and shook in pain and exhaustion. "We need to find Malfoy," he croaked. Buckbeak flapped once and turned them toward the camp, gliding toward the ground and safety.

-0-

It would take a man on horseback riding flat out several minutes to reach the Manor from the edge of the High Town. If he were coming from the outskirts of the Low Town, it would take him even longer. In times of emergency, the time it took for a messenger from the edge of the Low Town to reach the Manor and warn the Lord in residence could be too much, and so a system of warning bells was created. The first bell hung in the watchtower overlooking the road into the Malfoy seat. Five more created a chain that reached the walls of the Manor. When they rang, the towns and Manor fell silent, and all six bells could be heard in the high, stone hall of the throne room.

And all six bells were ringing.

The baker in throne room stopped speaking abruptly. His weekly report became second to the cause of the warning bells, and the baker knew it. He backed toward the wall immediately to get out of Lord Heir Malfoy's way.

Draco leapt to his feet. He felt the blood drain from his face in panic. The warning bells were so rarely heard that they could not help but be feared. His mother rose next to him, her own face pale but still composed.

"Dismissed!" Draco practically jumped off the dais in his rush, not seeing the bows given to him as he left. "Pucey, escort my mother to her rooms."

"No."

Draco closed his eyes briefly as he turned to look at his mother. Narcissa stared back at him, her face set in firm resolve. "Mother, please. We don't know what is coming-"

"Precisely why I will be joining you," Narcissa interrupted. "I will not hide away in my rooms like a child, waiting for a messenger to tell me what has happened."

Draco sighed. "Very well." There was no moving his mother when she was decided. "Flint!"

The guardsman in charge hurried to catch up as Draco spun on a heel and strode from the room. "My Lord, I've sent word to gather the Guard in the courtyard."

"Very good." Draco nodded once. "I know we don't have many guardsmen, but could we ward off an attack?"

Flint shook his head. "Not a truly determined one, my Lord. Any more than about three dozen trained fighters would overwhelm us."

"We shall make do with what we have, then." Draco shifted his cloak to hang over his left shoulder, leaving his right arm, his sword arm, free to move.

"My Lord-"

Draco shot Flint a sharp look. "I will not despair until I know what is coming."

Flint bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord."

The guardsman kept pace with Draco as he hurried through the corridors and out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard. Narcissa and Pucey fell back to stand by the heavy doors. Above the gate and along the top of the wall, Draco could see the distinctive navy tunics and great helms of the Guard gathering, many armed with bows and spears.

"This looks exciting."

Draco's hand clenched on the pommel of his sword. He did not look away from the guardsmen's preparations as he addressed the man who stopped beside him, knowing his anger and disgust would boil over if he did. "You should not be here."

"Why not?" Draco could hear the smirk in Zabini's voice. "It's been dreadfully boring around here these last few days."

Draco ground his teeth together. "Zabini…"

"Podmore!" Flint barked suddenly. "Escort the Lady Zabini and her son back to their rooms and ensure they stay there…for their safety."

"Yes, sir!" The stocky, aging guardsman offered and took hold of the Italian man's arm in a grip tighter than would be considered proper. "Shall we find your mother, your Lordship?" Draco's mouth twitched in a hard smile when Zabini stumbled as Podmore yanked him away.

"Thank you," Draco murmured to Flint.

"Of course, my-" Flint stopped as the sound of shouting reached them from beyond the gates. The clatter of hard wheels on cobblestones accompanied the voice.

"Make way! Open up! Make way!"

"Open the gates!" A guardsman on the wall shouted down. "It's Harper!"

Draco moved out of the way as Flint rushed to help open the gates. Harper was his father's manservant. Did that mean…was his father…?

A simple four-wheeled cart rushed through the gates before they were fully open, pulled by a panting beast Draco recognised easily: Glamis, his father's Thestral. He saw Pucey catch his mother as her knees went weak, but his focus lay on the three visible figures in the cart. Harper pulled back hard on the reigns, forcing Glamis to stop.

Lucius Malfoy's unconscious body jerked at the sudden stop, but an unfamiliar red-haired man kept the Noble propped up against the straw in the back of the cart.

Draco rushed forward as Harper jumped into the back. "Help me with him!" he shouted at the nearest guardsman. "Severus Snape!"

"I'm here." Severus swept toward them as two guardsmen picked Lucius up and hauled him carefully out of the cart. He swept a critical look over Lucius. "Take him to his chambers and put him on the bed."

Draco caught sight of his father's injury as the guardsmen passed. Lucius' trousers were torn away from his thigh, where someone had clearly attempted some healing. Draco could see a rough poultice beneath bandages of cut clothes.

He tried to follow the guardsmen to his father's room, but a hand on his arm stopped him. Draco looked over and into his mother's guarded eyes. "I will go. Stay here."

"Why?"

Narcissa simply nodded toward the cart.

The red-haired man had another man's body over his shoulder, one Draco had not noticed before. One he could never forget.

"Harry."

Narcissa left, but Draco didn't notice. Harry's body was covered by a dull purple cloak, but his skin had a deathly colour to it and Draco could see large, dark bloodstains on the cloak. The redhead held Harry carefully, speaking quickly at Severus.

Draco stumbled forward, his joints shaking and weak. His pulse was pounding in his ears, muffling the noise around him. "His back…two days' ride…hot…"

"Fever…be infection…" Severus' voice reached him in words and snatches. "My chambers, hurry."

Flint left with the red-haired man, leading the way through the Manor. Severus' pale face filled Draco's view. "Come on, Draco." Gentle hands grasped his forearms, guiding him into the Manor. "He's going to be alright, Draco, they both are. I promise."