Summary: The summer has begun, and the search for the Horcruxes is underway. After a former rival is found in an alley, however, Harry's life becomes even more complicated. As the war escalates, friendships will be tested, lives will be lost, and Harry finds that, before he can win, he must learn the rules of the game. Harry/Draco. Contains a few references to self-mutilation, some non-con, and a brief mention to incest.

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Author's Note: As an additional disclaimer, this is not a love story nor is it meant to be read as one. I wrote this in response to all the bad H/D fics I've read (I have found a few good ones too), because I wanted to see if I could put the two together in a believable way. It's up to the reader to decide if I succeeded. The story is also about the search for the Horcruxes, so it's not all smut. Trust me though, it shall earn its rating in later chapters. And, as a side note, this story does not subscribe to your stereotypical seme/uke format. So, if that's what you're looking for, you've come to the wrong fic. Thank you, and enjoy.

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Chapter 1: A Rival in Need

Night had fallen over Privet Drive. The street was empty and silent, the neighbors long since gone to bed. All the windows were dark save for one. On the second floor, a young man stood illuminated, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

Harry glanced at the clock. One in the morning. He looked back outside, worrying at his sleeve. She should be back by now. What was taking so long?

"It's too dangerous," he had said. "What if you get attacked?"

"Diagon Alley doesn't have the books we need," Hermione had said. "Knockturn is our only hope. I'll be careful, I promise. I'll be back before nightfall."

After a long argument, Harry had finally reluctantly agreed that Hermione should go, though he wished she had let him go with her. She reminded him though that any Death Eaters were more likely to recognize him, so she was better off alone. Still, he wished that he'd had the invisibility cloak to give to her. Unfortunately, as far as he knew, it was still lying on top of the Astronomy Tower where he'd dropped it.

Harry shuddered. It had been two weeks since he'd left Hogwarts, but the memory was fresh in his mind, as though it had happened yesterday. He still lay awake most nights, replaying the scene over and over, Dumbledore's pleading voice echoing in his mind.

He shook his head to clear these thoughts and sat on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot nervously. It wouldn't have been so bad if Ron was there. No doubt he would have been just as worried as Harry, but it would have been nice to have someone to talk to. With Bill and Fleur's wedding only days away, however, Ron had agreed to go back home to help with the planning and setup. Mrs. Weasley had offered to let Harry and Hermione stay too, but they had refused when they saw the number of Weasley relatives already staying at the Burrow. Besides, the Dursleys seemed to have adopted a new philosophy this summer of avoiding Harry and his friends at all costs. In fact, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if they didn't even notice that Ron had left a couple days ago.

Harry rubbed at his tired eyes and looked at the clock again. One-thirty. Where was she?

A light tap at the window nearly made Harry jump out of his skin. He rushed to the window and threw it open, but it was only Hedwig sitting on the sill, a letter clutched in her beak.

Harry sighed, but then forced a smile. "Good girl," he said, stroking her feathers as he took the letter. He knew who it was from before he even opened it.

Harry,

I just wanted to make sure you remembered to come to the wedding. Well, Mum wanted to make sure. She's practically breathing down my neck right now making sure I write this. She says you need to be here early to get ready.

How are things going there? Managed to pull Hermione away from her books long enough to make her eat yet? Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't starved.

Ginny's here now. She says hi and that she misses you. Now she's watching to make sure I don't write anything bad about her. I should probably go before everyone starts crowding in.

Ron

Hedwig hooted loudly. "I'm not sending a letter back," Harry said softly, waving his hand idly at the window. "Go on."

Hedwig looked almost disappointed for a moment, but she hooted again and spread her wings, flying off into the night. Harry stared after her for a moment.

Determined to have one summer without the usual fights with the Dursleys, Harry had asked the Weasleys to take care of Hedwig for a couple weeks. Hermione thought it was a good idea, but she took it a step further, sending Crookshanks home with her parents. She joked that he would keep them company while she was away, though Harry had seen the sadness in her eyes when she said goodbye at the train station. She knew that there was a fairly good chance she wouldn't see them again.

Harry shook his head and rolled up the parchment, setting it on his desk. The letter told him nothing new. Mrs. Weasley had sent a two page letter a week ago about how much she wanted them at the wedding. The thought of Ginny, however, made him pause a moment. After how he had left things, he worried that she would be mad at him, so any mention of her made him take notice. But if she missed him, then maybe...

No. He wasn't going down that road. He broke up with her for a reason. He couldn't drag her back into this.

"Harry!"

Harry jumped again, turning back to the still open window. Hermione sat astride Harry's Firebolt, a large, black bundle tied to the broom behind her. Her hair, if possible, was bushier than ever, and she seemed to be out of breath.

"Hermione," Harry said in a furious whisper so he wouldn't wake the Dursleys. "What...?"

"Would you let me in first?" Hermione said nervously, glancing over her shoulder. When Harry mutely stepped aside, she climbed in, taking great care to keep the broom outside and out of viewing range, her hand gripped tightly around the handle.

"What took you so long?" Harry asked. "Where are the books?"

"I got a little side-tracked," Hermione said, finally looking at him. "Listen, I have to show you something, but I need you to promise that you'll keep quiet. You might want to get out your wand, too. It'll probably make you feel more comfortable."

"My wand? What—?"

"Trust me, you're going to want to have it."

Confused, Harry moved over to his bedside table, retrieving his wand from a drawer. Hermione pulled the broom inside and Harry saw that the thing he had mistaken for a bundle was shaped suspiciously like a body, hidden underneath a mass of filthy black robes. The way it was balanced on the broom suggested that there was a weightless spell on it, two ropes binding it to the handle. Hermione carefully untied it from the broom and lowered it to the floor, careful not shift the robes. She waved her wand at it, most likely to lift the weightless spell.

"Who—?"

Hermione put a finger to her lips and shook her head. "Remember, keep quiet." She pulled the hood of the robes back.

Harry stumbled back a couple of steps, his mouth opening, but he stopped himself from yelling at the last moment and settled for gaping. A young man lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, the black school robes draped over him like a tent. He looked almost dead, save for the uneven rising and falling of his chest. If not for the white-blond hair, Harry would not have recognized him.

"Malfoy," he said when he found his voice. He turned on Hermione. "You brought him here?!"

"I didn't know what else to do," Hermione said, running a hand through her hair. "I found him in an alley near Borgin and Burkes. I couldn't just leave him lie there!"

"What? You found him like this?" Harry had assumed that Hermione had knocked him out.

Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm and flipped him over onto his back. Malfoy gave a small moan but remained unconscious. Underneath the dirt that smudged his face, his skin was ghastly white and drenched in sweat, his cheeks tinged pink with fever. Hermione pushed up Malfoy's left sleeve to show Harry the dirty, blood soaked cloths wrapped around his forearm. Then, she looked up at Harry, as though gauging his reaction.

Harry felt a sinking in his stomach as he realized that Hermione was waiting for his cue. He stared at Malfoy for a moment. A series of images of Malfoy flashed through his mind, from offering Harry a hand in friendship to calling Hermione a Mudblood, from crushing Harry's nose under his heel to hunching over a sink in the bathroom, crying. He remembered Malfoy standing on the roof of the Astronomy Tower, with his empty threats and his hand shaking as he pointed his wand at Dumbledore. As Harry looked down at his former rival, unconscious on the floor, he felt revulsion.

But he also felt pity. And, as he remembered Dumbledore's promise to help Malfoy, he knew what he had to do.

So, Harry took a deep breath and nodded. "What do you need?"

Some of the tension seemed to go out of Hermione. "Your aunt has a medicine cupboard, doesn't she? Just fill a bag with whatever you can find and bring it all here. I also need you to get me a large bowl, mild soap, clean towels, and some bandages."

Harry nodded, grabbing his school bag off the floor and heading out the door, trying to keep his mind focused on the task. There would be time for questions after they saved Malfoy's life.

When Harry got to the bathroom, he cleaned out the medicine cupboard, not even bothering to sort out the medicines that would obviously not be helpful. Then, he went on a search for bandages, towels, and soap. There were no bowls in the bathroom, so he made a quick run downstairs to the kitchen. He found a mixing bowl in the cabinet and decided it would have to do. Even though he was careful to be quiet, he was sure the Dursleys were going to catch him at any moment.

By some miracle, Harry made it back to his room without meeting anyone. He knelt on the opposite side of Malfoy from Hermione and passed the items over to her.

Hermione dumped the bag out on the floor and gave the medicines a once over, furrowing her brow. Then, she turned her attention to the cloths around the arm and slowly began to unwrap them. The cloth stuck to the wound, so Hermione filled the bowl with water and lowered the arm into it slowly. Malfoy made a feeble attempt to pull away, but Hermione held on and he soon went still again. Once the bandage had soaked for a while, Hermione tried again.

When the last of the cloth was removed, Harry drew in a sharp breath. The skin had been sliced off Malfoy's forearm nearly elbow to wrist, leaving a huge, shallow wound that oozed blood and pus. The entire arm was inflamed and swollen.

Hermione picked up Malfoy's arm by the wrist, careful to avoid touching the wound, and examined it, shaking her head. "Hold him down," she said, stretching Malfoy's arm out over the bowl.

Harry did as he was told, pinning Malfoy to the ground, and Hermione pointed her wand at Malfoy's arm. A jet of water poured over the wound. Malfoy twitched, his head moving slightly and moaned, but nothing more. Harry nearly relaxed his grip, but one look at Hermione told him to hold it. She vanished the dirty water from the bowl and filled it with clean water. She mixed in some soap and dipped a towel inside, wringing it out. Then she lifted it to Malfoy's arm.

Harry saw what was coming a split second before it happened and quickly shifted positions, pinning Malfoy's legs with one of his own and freeing up one of his hands to cover Malfoy's mouth. This turned out to be a smart move, as Hermione touched the towel to Malfoy's arm. Malfoy's eyes flew open and he made a strangled noise, bucking so hard that Harry was nearly thrown off balance.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed.

"Stupefy!" Hermione said, pointing her wand straight at Malfoy's chest. Malfoy's eyes opened wide for a moment before he fell back against the floor, out cold. Harry let him go, trying to calm his racing heart. Hermione, however, just tucked her wand back away and immediately went back to cleaning the wound as if nothing had happened.

Once she had finished with that, Hermione put the dirtied towels aside. "The infection's spreading," she muttered, probably more to herself than to Harry. "We need to get it out now."

She reached into her pocket and pulled her hand back out, her fist clutched around something. She tapped it once and the thing unshrunk, revealing itself as a large, rather thick book. She flipped it open to the index.

"Where did you get that?" Harry asked, tilting his head to inspect the title: Calard's Composium of Cures.

"Book shop across from Borgin and Burkes," she said, turning to a page near the middle, "right after I found him." She stared at the page for a moment longer then nodded to herself, grabbing a clean towel. She pressed it over the wound and pointed her wand at it, whispering a spell. Blue light shot from her wand and the towel glowed for a moment. She immediately pulled it back and wrinkled her nose. She filled the basin with clean water again and dunked the towel inside, washing out what looked like a very large amount of pus with a bit of blood mixed in.

Hermione did the spell several more times, and each time she did, the towel had a bit less on it. When she finally finished the job, she glanced at the book one last time. Then, she ran a stream of water over the wound and wrapped it in bandages. She vanished the water from the bowl and used a cleaning spell on the towels and her hands.

Harry thought she was done, but she pressed a hand to Malfoy's head next. "He's still running a fever," she said. She selected a bottle from the pile of medicine and popped it open. "This is why I wanted to keep him awake. Prop his head up and open his mouth."

Harry hesitated, but did as she asked. Hermione shook two pills into her hand, and, to Harry's disgust, reached her fingers into Malfoy's mouth, carefully placing the pills on his tongue. She motioned for Harry to close his jaw, so he did, holding it tightly until Malfoy swallowed. Then, Hermione levitated Malfoy and floated him over to Harry's bed before slumping back against the wall, breathing deeply.

"The book only has spells for small scrapes and bruises," she said, reaching over to shut it, "so the wound's just going to have to heal on its own."

"How did he end up in an alley?" Harry asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. There were some people standing around in front of Borgin and Burkes, so I thought maybe I'd duck into the alley until they left just to be safe. I saw a bit of blood on the ground, so I followed it, and I found him lying back behind some trash bins. It looked like he crawled there."

"But why was he there?"

"I don't know. I'm more interested in who attacked him."

Harry thought for a moment. The question hadn't occurred to him. "An Auror?"

"Why injure him though? Why not just stun him and bring him back to the Ministry?"

"Maybe it was a Death Eater then. I mean, he did fail his last assignment."

"That's what I thought. Still...if they wanted him dead, why not just kill him? And why dump him in Knockturn where anyone could find him?"

"Maybe he Apparated there.

Hermione shook her head. "I doubt it. I saw bits of skin on the ground. Whoever attacked him did it there." She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

She stared at the ground for a moment, then looked up at him. "It's just...I've never done that spell before. What if I did it wrong? What if I didn't get it all out? What if he...?" She trailed off, glancing at Malfoy's still form.

"You did everything you could," Harry said, wishing he could come up with something more comforting to say.

Hermione bit her lip and gave a small nod."I suppose all we can do is try to get some sleep. We'll know in the morning."

Harry didn't like the worried look still on her face, but he didn't know what else to do for her. The adrenaline seemed to be draining out of him and it was hard to think clearly. All he wanted was to curl up and go to sleep. Still, he knew he should get the supplies back to their places, so he picked up the bag, loaded everything back into it, and headed back to the bathroom. He returned everything to its rightful place. Obviously, there were a few bandages and pills missing, but he hoped against all odds that Aunt Petunia wouldn't notice or would just think Dudley took them.

Now all that remained was the bowl. Harry wouldn't have bothered, except that, knowing his luck, Aunt Petunia would need it the next day. There would be no blaming that on Dudley. So, for the second time that night, he snuck downstairs.

This time, however, the kitchen wasn't empty.

Dudley sat at the table, a large plate of pudding in front of him. He froze the moment Harry appeared in the doorway, his fork inches from his mouth. He looked vaguely like he was going to be sick.

"W...what are you doing?" Dudley said in a slightly high-pitched voice.

"None of your business," Harry said, trying to act unconcerned as he went to the cabinet to put the bowl away.

"I'm going to tell Mum you were down here."

Harry's mind raced to come up with a response. "You don't want to do that," he said to stall for time.

"Why not?"

Harry looked around the room, trying to think of something, until his eyes settled on the pudding in front of Dudley. He recognized it as the pudding Aunt Petunia had made for a party she was going to the next day. "Or I'll tell her that you were eating the pudding."

"She won't believe you," Dudley said shakily.

"She might not say that she believes me, but she'll know it's true," Harry said. "You'll be eating carrot sticks for the rest of the week."

Harry knew that he had hit a nerve. Since Dudley had started boxing and had built muscle in place of some of his fat, Aunt Petunia had let up on some of the strict dieting rules she put on him. There were still rules though, and any breaking of them had Dudley right back on his diet. Of course, Harry knew that even if he didn't tell Aunt Petunia, she would know that Dudley was the one who ate the pudding. He just hoped that Dudley wouldn't make that connection.

Dudley was quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed as though in deep thought. "One word," he warned, "and I'll tell her."

Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief and nodded. Then, he retreated back up to his room as fast as he could, thanking his luck that Dudley hadn't managed to work it out. He had long since passed the age when he was afraid of what Aunt Petunia said, but he would rather not have to deal with her if he didn't have to.

Harry made it back up to his room without further incident to find that Hermione had already gone to sleep, curled up on the floor in the corner. Since his bed had been taken over, he went to his closet and got out an old blanket to use for a pillow. By some miracle, he managed to find a clear spot on the floor a few feet from where Hermione. He lay down on the hard floor and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

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Author's Note: Please review. I'm still learning my British-isms, so if I slipped up, please let me know. Depending on how major the error is, I may go back and fix it if it won't interfere with the plot. Updates on this will probably be sporadic, since I'm a college student, but I'll do my best to post regularly. Next chapter: Harry and Hermione discover what really happened to Malfoy's arm.