The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach the second he saw Katie Bell shuffling through the Great Hall. She was still ashen and much slighter than before she had been cursed, but her jaw was locked and her eyes determined to get through her day. Somehow her resolve broke his heart even more than if she'd allowed herself to look weak. He stood from his table, not offering Ron or Hermione any goodbyes and hustled to catch up with her.

"Katie! Hey," he said, reaching for her arm.

She stopped and smiled, taking a moment to establish her footing on the uneven stone floors.

"I know you're going to ask, Harry. But I don't remember who cursed me. I've been trying, more than you know, but..." she stifled a heavy sigh, and Harry saw her shoulders sag. It was no secret that he'd been on the hunt for whoever had cursed her, whoever had poisoned Ron and Slughorn, whoever had been taking out their anger on seemingly random targets. And it was also no secret who he thought might be the culprit, the same person he always accused. That common knowledge might have been the reason Katie let her eyes drift at that moment, the mere fact that Harry publicly hated him drawing her attention. When he later turned the events over in his mind he could never be sure why she had looked, her face suddenly drained of what little color it had. But in that moment, when he followed her gaze to see Malfoy standing in the entrance to the Great Hall, the fire in his gut that was always there for Malfoy was stoked up into a rage and he knew his suspicions were correct.

Malfoy froze under his appraisal, and then turned to bolt into the hallway. Harry tore after him, shoving past other students, emerging from the Hall just in time to see Malfoy turn a corner. Then another, and then another, until Harry came to the top of a staircase to see him enter the girl's bathroom on the second floor. He slowed his pace, checking both directions to ensure no one was coming. As much as he admired the headmaster and many of the teachers, he didn't want their help or involvement. There was too great a risk of Snape intervening, protecting Malfoy from any serious questioning or suspicion. When he was sure they were alone he stepped through the bathroom doors, wand at the ready.

From the sinks to the right, he heard feet sliding against tile and a dull thud. Harry ducked his head around the wall, expecting to see Malfoy at the sinks which lead to the underground chamber. Instead he saw the boy on his knees, with his head resting against porcelain. He'd torn off his vest and thrown it to the side, and now was holding on to the edge of the sinks for dear life. After what felt like an eternity, he began to sob, his back and shoulders shaking so hard Harry wasn't sure they'd stay attached.

Harry couldn't make himself move from his spot, except to drop his wand to his side, as he watched the villain he'd imagined all these years unraveling into a million threads. He'd had a half-thought out speech prepared, where he told Malfoy what he knew and why he was doomed to fail. Where he laid out in no uncertain terms what would happen to Malfoy in Azkaban. Now it seemed too small a sentiment to fill this space, an inadequate answer to what he was seeing.

Malfoy's sobs became more strangled as his throat became swollen from crying. He let his hands slip to his sides and sat back on his heels, calming a little in the quiet of the room.

He couldn't let Malfoy know he was here. It was clear that he thought he was alone, had only allowed himself to crack open like this under that pretense. Harry wouldn't break that illusion of safety. He turned to leave, stowing his wand in his pocket, when the potions book he'd been carrying all semester slipped from it's place and fell to the floor with a bang.

Malfoy leapt to his feet and Harry heard him scramble for his own wand.

"Who's there?" he called out.

Harry put his hands in the air, and slowly stepped out into view. No changing it now.

"I'm sorry-" he started. He wasn't sure how to finish.

"Why are you following me?" Draco spat with as much venom as he could muster, "Why did you chase me?"

"I don't...Did you curse Katie Bell?"

Malfoy's breathing sped up, but he kept his face steady. He offered no answer. Harry studied him, looking for some indication that would help him put it together.

"Did you have a choice?"

Silence passed between them, Draco still pointing his wand at Harry's chest and Harry still proffering his empty hands at Draco. Then slowly, inch by inch, Draco lowered his arm, and let his face go slack. He let out a breath and seemed to deflate, only held up it seemed by the frame of his bones. Harry realized he could see quite a few more bones in Draco's face and hands than in the past.

"What the hell would you know about it?"

"About choice?" Harry said, "Or lack of it? I know a lot more than you'll admit."

Harry's eyes traveled down to Draco's left arm. The same one Malfoy had used to intimidate the shopkeep in Borgin and Burkes that summer, the one that he was sure held a fresh Dark Mark.

"I know that after you get that brand, you never have a choice again."

Malfoy met his eye and then glanced down at his arm. His hand balled into a fist and he pulled it tightly against his chest.

"He's not a good man, Malfoy. Whatever you believe about blood or about muggles you have to know that his way isn't right."

"Of course I know that!" Draco's eyes sparked with anger, "When he humiliated my father, it wasn't the way. When he beat us, all of us, in front of the Death Eater's it wasn't the way. Everything he's ever told me to do has been wrong, but no rah-rah speech from you is going to save us! He'll kill me if I don't find a way to carry out my orders, and then my mother, and then my father. You don't know a damn thing about choice."

Draco's hands worked quickly, turning up both sleeves. A Dark Mark sat gravely on one, but on the other Harry saw something uglier. A scar, still thick and bright red, only barely healed enough to avoid a trip to Madame Pomfrey's.

"He made this mark over summer break," he indicated the tattoo, "and this one over Christmas break," he indicated the scar, "I hadn't even done anything wrong that time. He just decided he needed an outlet for his anger and I was near!"

Another sob caught in Malfoy's throat, and he desperately tried to swallow it down. Harry move his hands, slowly, to the front of his sweater and lifted it up to show a scar of his own running parallel across his stomach, since faded to a silvery white.

"He gave me this two years ago, in a graveyard, while trying to kill me. He's going to kill me, no matter what I do. And I would bet money that he's going to kill you even if you succeed at whatever task he's handed down. He'll kill all of us, even purebloods. Even great families. Even his closest advisors. There is no safety for any of us until he is dead."

"He can't be. He can't ever be killed."

"I know," Harry said softly, "Or at least I think I know. It's dark magic and far beyond my level. But we know the safeguards he has in place that let him keep coming back over and over again. And with a little more time, we'll know how to destroy them."

"I don't have time," Draco's voice was raspy from crying and the power was draining from it again, "If I don't...If I'm not successful by the end of the school year it's the end for me."

Harry took a hesitant step forward, and then another. Draco wasn't looking in his direction, lost instead in the details of his shoes. It didn't take long to close the distance between them and Harry reached out to hold Draco's arm, his hand covering the red scar.

"What did he tell you to do? We've already hidden people. We can do the same for your family. What is your job?"

"He told me..." Draco lifted his eyes to meet Potter's, setting his jaw in an attempt to keep himself altogether, "He told me I have to kill Dumbledore."

The hallways were still deserted as Harry and Draco made their way up to the seventh floor, but all the same the boys kept against the walls, checking around every corner before going on. They couldn't be seen together, not with the state they were both in, and especially not after they were seen by everyone running from the Hall. Draco didn't know what it would look like to someone on the outside, but it couldn't be good. They had been at odds since their first meeting, and everyone in the entire United Kingdom seemed to know about it. Any union between them was sure to be met with hostility. If he was honest, he was still fairly hostile to the idea himself. But the weight he'd been carying in the last two years since the Triwizard Tournament, the turn in Voldemort's favor against his family, was threatening to break him if he didn't find a way out from under it soon.

He flagged Harry down, breathing heavily and needing more than anything to rest. He hadn't been able to eat, much less sleep, since the last failed attempt on Dumbledore's life. The poisoned wine had been desperate on his part, and stupid, but he hadn't seen any other way. The cabinet wasn't working, and there was no way a sixteen year old boy was going to be able to fix it when the staff at Borgin and Burke's hadn't been able to the past twenty years. Then it had ended up in the wrong cup, and suspicion had turned even stronger towards him. He'd been pulled into Snape's office more than once for the teacher to plead for Draco to stop, to let him intervene, but Draco had had no choice but to turn him down every time.

Harry stood with him for a few minutes, their backs leaned against the cold castle walls, listening intently for any sign of company. His hand was locked on Draco's shoulder, more protectively than threateningly it seemed, and Draco was thankful for anything that would keep him standing.

"Where are we going, Potter?" he asked when he had gotten his breathe back.

"The Room of Requirement," Harry said, and then waved off the look of surprise on Draco's face, "You know I held a defense class in there last year-spent a good few months trying to break in-and I know you've been skulking around in there this year. At the very least, it'll give us a safer place to come up with a plan than Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I'm willing to bet she heard at least some of our conversation, and I've gotten secrets out of her with nothing more than vague flirting."

Draco laughed, despite himself.

"Can't get a live girl, then?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "I can get whoever I'd like to get, Malfoy. Or, I should be able to. Not that I've tried much."

Draco laughed again, and Harry shoved his shoulder, albeit gently.

"Besides," he added, "it was just the price of admission with Myrtle. I'd have flirted with a lamppost to get the same results."

"What a cad the great Potter is!"

"You seem to be in high enough spirits again. We need to get moving," Harry beckoned him forward and Draco followed. After another floor they had found it, the door blossoming in front of them before their needs were spoken.

Inside they found a series of armchairs around a low coffee table. It was smaller than Draco had ever seen the room, but in one counter sat a fireplace and a pot of floo powder, and in another sat the dark stained cabinet. Just as Harry had talked about. Draco had only ever needed access to the cabinet itself, and so had picked his way through piles of furniture and treasures every time, assuming that basic access was all the room offered. He felt a bit silly now, knowing he could gave asked for more.

On the table a few trays of food appeared, blinking into sight much the same way he'd seen breakfast appear in the Great Hall each morning. Harry wondered aloud if the elves in the kitchens were alerted by the room, and then wilted a bit at Draco's panicked expression.

"The elves won't tell anyone anything. They're the most invested of everyone in taking Voldemort down, no matter how much someone flirts with them."

It didn't reassure him much but Draco at least smiled in Harry's direction before striding towards the cabinet.

"It won't do you much good to stare at it, Malfoy," Harry called from the armchairs. He'd already made himself comfortable, "Come and eat, the Room gave us these scones for a reason. I'm assuming raspberry lemon is your favorite, it certainly isn't mine."

Draco sighed, but his stomach was in a tight knot, already angry at missing another breakfast. He came back and sunk into the chair across from Harry, grabbing a few cakes and scones off the tray without looking.

"I'll just throw these up in an hour," he grumbled.

"Try, at least. And talk to me. What exactly was the plan with this room and that cabinet?"

"Reinforcements, basically. Whenever I get it fixed, I'm to owl home to let the others know, and then storm up to Dumbledore's office, wand out, and do the deed. A few Death Eaters will come through that cabinet and stand guard outside the office, securing the school for...for *him*."

Harry ate, thoughtfully, staring into the corner as if the doors might creak open now and reveal an icy white hand within.

"Where does the cursed necklace come into that plan? Or the wine?"

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked like hell, he was sure.

"Well it's not an appealing prospect, is it? Having Death Eaters crawling all over, standing watch for me to 'do my duty'. Nor does having to do it...personally..." he set down the cake he'd been working on, now ashes in his mouth, "Besides which, I don't think I'll ever be able to make it work. I thought I'd really had it a month ago until I sent some birds through. They just came back as bones."

He ground his hands into his temples. It was all more than he could carry, so much more.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone at all, especially not people who had no part in this fight."

Another moment of silence passed, Draco fighting to keep his watering eyes from turning into tears. Then Harry stood decisively, brushing the crumbs from the front of his sweater.

"Let me speak to the Order," Harry said, "They may have a better sense of how to handle this."

The fireplace's floo powder sat in a small metal cooking pot on the hearth and Harry chuckled to himself as he dug his fingers in. Draco had to admit it was a funny sight. His house (and most houses he assumed) had something much more ornate. It served the task just fine though, and Harry held a pinch just above the flames before hesitating.

"You might want to stand out of the line of sight," he said over his shoulder, "Just until I have time to explain."

Draco's chest tightened but he did as he was told, joining Harry beside the fireplace and leaning against the wall where no one would see him from inside the hearth. He heard a pop as the fire ignited the powder, and a murmur of "Grimmauld Place". Then Harry shoved his head into the fireplace and began speaking to someone on the other end.

He explained the situation in much kinder words than Draco would have chosen for himself. The threat of death, the beatings, the plans to attack the school all came to light, and the angry fights they'd had so far that year remained unspoken. He couldn't make out what was being said on the other side, but by the way Harry responded he thought it might be positive after all. He eased down the wall to sit on his heels, a small tinder of hope lighting in his chest. Maybe they could help. Maybe they would actually be willing to.

Harry's hand shot out from his side and groped around trying to find Draco. He offered his arm to Harry's grip and shifted cautiously to sit beside him. Harry pulled back, widening the flames so that both of them could be seen. Through the fire Draco could see an older wizard with lank black hair, and the firey red hair of what he assumed to be one of the Weasleys.

"Draco, this is Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley."

Draco bit his tongue at the mention of Lupin-wasn't he a werewolf? The circumstances didn't allow him much choice in bedfellow, however. He nodded at each of them with a tight lipped smile.

"Harry's told you what we know so far. Do you think you might be able to help them? Help my family?"

"They would have to be willing to leave, Draco. Are you sure your mother and father are up for that risk? Are they aware of your desire to leave?" Lupin's voice sounded like harsh gravel. The year hadn't been easy on any of them it seemed.

The tinder of hope began to die again.

"No," Draco said quietly, "They don't know, and they'd be terrified if I told them. My father is still clinging to some hope of regaining the Dark Lord's good graces. My mother...she might come if I asked. If she could be assured that the two of us would make it out safely."

"I can't promise that. I can promise that we will try. Not only out of kindness, though, you have a lot of information we desperately need. You must answer whatever we ask, do you understand?"

"I do."

"Can you owl your mother? Not to reveal the whole scheme, but just to let her know that you'll be coming home soon?"

"I don't think I can. The Dark Lord has been staying in Malfoy Manor for the last year, he's given every indication he plans to stay indefinitely."

A smile played across Lupin's grim face. Draco thought he looked rather like a boy again, with the spark allowed back into his eyes for a moment.

"Now that," he said, "Is exactly the kind of information we are hoping for."