Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of it's characters, so don't sue me!

Pairing: Probably my fav. - H/D - eventually.

Plot: Harry 'kind of' defeated the Dark Lord (voldy), but in a way nobody had even suspected he would.

This is about the repercussions of what happened, and how people begin to cope with these results.

Chapter Three - Sugokil

A light, feminine voice came from behind him, causing him to involuntarily tense. "What do you think?"

Recognising Stella, Draco forced a stiff smile onto his face, refraining from pointing out her obvious death wish. Twice in one night she had 'snuck up' on seasoned, paranoid, killers. He could understand her sneaking up on him, as she knew he had enough control to not attack before verifying who was there, but to do so with a perfect stranger…It had almost gotten her killed, and would have too if the stranger hadn't pulled back at the last second.

Her light blue eyes noted the false expression of happiness on his face as she moved up to his side, and she was quick to narrow them in reprimand. Giving up the pretense, Draco sighed deeply, running a casual hand through hair which had remained white-blond, no matter how often he thought it should have turned grey by now.

"He's a skilled fighter, obviously. His reactions with you earlier show that." Grey eyes flicked sideways, disapproval of her actions evident in their depths. Looking back out at the land of rubble beneath him, Draco tuned out everything else as he attempted to pin down what his instincts were trying to tell him.

"I don't know," Playing idly with his hands, he ran a finger over the band of silver on his right thumb, ruminating on something lost. "He stayed. Once the traitor was dealt with…and I think he listened. Whether he plans to help us because he wants the same things we do, or for reasons of his own I don't know, but I do know it will be his choice. He is not like the others here, waiting to be led."

"Hmm," Stilling his hands with her own, Stella stared down at his callused fingers thoughtfully, unwittingly gazing at the ring which nobody but Draco was able to see.

"He is more talented than the others. It is true we all have trained fighters, how else would our groups survive? Yet, he displays an affinity with the blade I have never seen before." Not lifting her gaze from the silver on which it rested, her blue eyes took on a glazed look, as she reached for answers beyond the normal.

"Keep him close, he will save us all."

Shivering at the display of her powers, Draco distantly remembered a time when such a display would only be greeted with mild curiosity, if that. Yet in this time, such a mild usage of the sight would have Stella locked up in a heartbeat, and then forced to endure god only knows what horrors. All because of one incident, which occurred years ago now.

Snapping out of her brief trance, Stella looked at Draco expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what she'd 'seen'. That being the main problem for seer's - they never remembered what they themselves had 'seen', and often had to depend upon someone else to inform them of what they'd said.

"Yeah, we need his help."

"Oh, good!" Clapping her hands together briskly, she jumped to her feet to go and tell the others on the council the decision, briefly reminding Draco of the late Hermione Granger when she'd found out something new.

Shaking his head to rid himself of his strange funk, Draco looked away from Stella's disappearing figure, and returned his contemplating gaze to the streets. Just in time to see a shadowy figure detach itself from the building Draco was on top of, and head back into the maze of rubble. "What the…where is he going?"

Making a spur of the moment decision, Draco stood up from his rooftop perch, and made his way over to the crumbling side of the building. Climbing down was easy for Draco's honed body, and he was soon following the dark figure he just knew was the newcomer.

Over lumps of grey stone, whispering soundlessly across crunchy rubble, Draco followed the figure as it headed deeper into the maze of ruins than even the 'shadow groups' dared to tread. Whilst it was no doubt safer from the gang's, as it was further from their reach, it was also more dangerous, as the deeper you went the more derelict the buildings became.

Curiosity spurred Draco onwards, even as the deeper need to obtain the stranger's help propelled necessitated it. Watching the figure with eyes used to observing people for weaknesses and small idiosyncrasies, Draco found himself struck dumb by the effortless grace with which the figure moved. The economy of motion so precise not one piece of stone became dislodged by his tread. Such skill denoted to a lifetime of practise, and yet the stranger was young, too young to have put in the amount of time required to have such control over himself.

Glancing down as he traversed a lump of stone and mortar that used to be the side of a building, Draco hunched down nearer the stone to keep noise to a minimum, and present less of his body for a possible target. Pausing at the top, keen grey eyes rose once more to ascertain his quarry's position. Only to find his quarry had vanished.

A vague panic rose within, as he realised there was an acute possibility he'd never find the stranger again. Then that would be yet another prophecy he had ruined, and more people would suffer because of his actions.

Stretching out his right leg, Draco felt his way down to the next foothold, determined to continue in the direction he'd last seen the person go. As his foot touched upon something solid in the darkness, a whisper of sound came from his left. Snapping his head in that direction, Draco once again became aware of the absence of noise normally found in the ruins. Yet, this silence held a watchfulness to it, and Draco shivered as he practically felt eyes upon him. Realising just how far he had travelled, following the shadowy figure, Draco worried for the first time that he would be unable to find his way back to the hotel.

Just as Draco was withdrawing his leg and preparing to find his way back, another sound came to his ears, from the right this time. A weird rustling sound, as though there were things crawling in the shadows he had yet to see.

With a curious sense of detachment, Draco watched as the fine blond hairs on his arms rose, to stand on end, quivering. Somehow intuiting what was happening, Draco lifted his gaze in time to see a black object heading straight for his face.

Pain exploded along his jaw, and Draco fell like a ragdoll, backwards, over the side of the stone he'd just climbed, to fall, rolling, bounced over harsh bricks and jagged edges. After what felt an eternity he came to a halt, body limp and bleeding, on the floor of the derelict street.

Rough hands grabbed at his torn black jumper, ripping the worn material even more, as they attempted to get a good handhold. Rising jerkily off the ground, Draco experienced weightlessness for the first time since he'd last ridden a broomstick, as the men succeeded in lifting him into the air. Hard knuckles drove the air from his lungs, making him cough and hack involuntarily. Hard, solid, stone slammed into his back, and the shimmer of metal brought some light to the shadows that encompassed everything now.

Eyes rolling upwards, Draco was only vaguely aware of the burning agony caused by the blade when it was shoved into his stomach, and the even vaguer thought, 'that was a waste of pain, they should have done that sooner - maximum effect'.

It was the absence of hands that brought him momentarily back to sensibility, and the chorus of thuds and grunts in the background brought a slight smile to his face. Humming along to the sounds, Draco let his head fall backwards, resting on possibly the only solid wall in this area. A slight frown creased his brow when the music stopped, but the pain from that small movement soon made him cease it.

Out of the shadows came a hand. A gentle hand, tilting his face to daub at the blood trickling down his cheek, feeling oddly like tears. A capable hand, feeling his body for wounds, applying pressure, desperately needed, to his stomach. Merciful hands, cradling his limp form, and taking him to safety.

Weary of the lies, the fighting, the fear. Always the fear. Draco allowed the darker grasps of fatigue to pull him down, trusting his body to the hands of a stranger. And on his hand, the silver ring glinted though no light touched its smooth countenance.

Quite short, I know - me sorry! Still, I didn't want to overdo this chapter, in case that ruined it (god I've been using that word a lot in this fic!)

Anyway - if you don't understand all of the undertones in this chapter/fic, don't worry, it should become clearer later on (I hope).

So, please R&R, and let me know what you think! chocolate cake to those who review [you should know by now, I am not above bribery to get what I want]