Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., especially parts of the dialogue.

Reviewers: Thank you to all my patient reviewers, every review is appreciated!

Note #1: I'm not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out, and my writing skills (as you can probably see) are a bit rusty—I haven't written new fanfiction material in a while. I might revise this after watching my Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix DVDs, but for now I'm posting this version. I apologize for the lengthy wait—between Student Teaching and Writer's Block this was one hell of a chapter to get done. But done it is and please enjoy it as best you can!

Note #2: About Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott: these three Slytherins will be portrayed quite differently in some instances than they are in J.K. Rowling's books. I have plans for them—and Morag McDougal—later on in this book/fiction set that are not compatible with some aspects of their canon characters. Just a heads up :grins:!

Rating: T

Pairings:Harry/Hermione

Summary: 'You can save one life, but you may lose another. Make one change and completely rewrite Destiny...'—Sixteen year old Harry is given the chance to go back in time to his Fourth Year to fix what came to pass. There he finds that even the smallest change can completely alter Destiny's course. But there is always a price with magic…

"Speech"

/Personal Thoughts/

'Telepathic Speech'

New Dawn

By Sentimental Star

Chapter Nine: Mending Broken Bridges

Leaning against the wall of their secluded niche after sheathing his wand, the blond crossed his arms over his chest and leveled Harry with a hard stare. "Why?" abrupt and an eerie echo of another certain Slytherin's question last night.

Harry shrugged helplessly, shifting slightly from foot to foot, and the other teen tensed. Rolling his eyes tolerantly, he gave a wry smile. "Relax, Malfoy, my wand is pointing at the ground. As I said in the note, I don't want to fight you," the smile turned into a small smirk, "at least, not on opposite sides of a battlefield." /Which, incidentally, happens to look a lot like a dungeon underneath your manor, although how I knew that is a mystery/ the Gryffindor thought and didn't say.

The other fourteen-year-old's eyes narrowed. "What are you on about, Potter? Last year you would have quite willingly hexed me regardless of whose side I was on."

Harry winced, rubbing his face. "Yeah. I know. Don't remind me."

This time, the blond scowled. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Malfoy…you're a git and a bloody arse, but that does not mean I want to fight you as Auror and Death Eater, or some such thing." He opened his eyes and lowered his hand, glaring right back. "That fight," he retorted tersely, "will be a fight to the death. I'm aware your father runs in not-so-savory circles, and that you're expected to follow him, but I don't want that!"

With a start, Harry realized his voice had risen at some point and he fell silent, unsure. Clenching his hands at his sides, he lowered his head, brow furrowing. /Why do I care so much?/ he wondered. /Residue from the dream, or--?/

That thought, however, cut off when he noticed Malfoy's reaction.

The Slytherin looked stunned.

Inwardly, Harry groaned again. /I bet I can guess his next question./

Of course, the other teenager had to ask it first. And that did not appear to be happening anytime soon.

With a tired sigh, wanting to finish this interview before either of them were missed (well, mainly Malfoy), he cautiously reached out and rested his hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Malfoy must have jumped a mile.

Biting back a laugh, Harry gave a warm smirk. "Good, I thought I broke you a minute there."

Malfoy scowled a bit at him, but Harry could tell he was still rather flabbergasted. Then the question came, "Why do you care? Why do you bloody care at all?"

It was just on the solid side of tremulous.

Harry gave him a sharp look for that. "Malfoy?"

Slytherins did not lose composure over something as simple as this. It simply wasn't done. But this, for Draco, and for his friends, wasn't simple. "No one else cares except Sev—Professor Snape. Why do you?"

His gray-silver eyes locked on Harry's, demanding an answer, weighted with possibility. His answer to this question, Harry realized, would decide the nature of their interactions from here on out. All or nothing.

That didn't seem like the Slytherin way, but—as Harry now understood—his desire and his reasoning to call a truce was about more than simply being Slytherin and being Gryffindor. Frankly, it could be the difference between life and death.

So he answered as Harry, and not as Harry the Gryffindor, or Harry the Boy-Who-Lived. Just Harry: "Because I choose to."

The rest was up to Malfoy now.

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI

To say Draco was dumbfounded would be an understatement. He'd expected some typically Gryffindor response: "Because I'm foolishly naïve and I want to," or "Because I'm an idiot who trusts too easily," or some such (well, not those exact words, but still…). He'd even be able to handle a Slytherin one: "Who wants another enemy?" or "You can do something for me in return"—that sort.

He had not expected "Because I bloody well choose to."

That did not fit Draco's carefully constructed framework of the world, and he was at a loss how to respond. But somewhere in the part of him that wanted nothing more than to live his life as he saw fit—a part he'd started neatly and methodically suppressing—that statement resonated deep within and filled him with a sense of freedom that he'd never thought he'd have a chance to experience.

It—and Potter—had offered him a choice, an escape, a way off the downward spiraling path he'd always believed he would have to follow.

And he rose stunningly to the occasion.

With a smirk and a flourish, Draco withdrew his wand again. Before Harry could go on the offensive, he pointed it directly at his own chest and stated clearly, "I, Draconus Abraxius Malfoy, do hereby declare allegiance to Harold James Potter. So mote be it."

A swirl of gold came out of his wand and flew to Harry who had long since begun gaping at him. He managed to close his mouth in enough time to utter faintly, "I accept." After the gold whorl entered his body, as well as his wand, his tongue unlocked, "Malfoy!" he spluttered. "What the bloody hell was that about? Don't you realize--"

"Potter," his last name, spoken far more calmly, cut into what would have been a diatribe on the idiocy of swearing something like that when it was unlikely he would be able to keep it—not if he wanted to protect himself. "I'm Slytherin, remember? Yes, that was an Unbreakable Vow, but because it was an Unbreakable Vow, it protects me as well as you. If I become a Death Eater—and, yes, Potter, that seems unavoidable at this point—then no matter what I will still be loyal to you. And no matter what Moldy Warts—what, Potter, you think I actually like the bastard?" For Harry had started gaping again at this completely irreverent way of referring to Voldemort.

Shaking his head, Harry frowned fiercely at the other fourteen-year-old. "Malfoy, you sodding idiot! Voldemort is a trained Legilimens! In under a minute he'd be able to tell that you're a traitor to his cause!"

Draco raised an eyebrow at his outburst, smirking slightly in amusement. "You did do this correctly, didn't you, Potter?"

Harry flushed at the inadvertent reminder that he was not supposed to know about Legilimency or Occlumency just yet.

Fortunately, Draco misinterpreted it. "You would have made a fair Slytherin, Potter, but these Gryffindor tendencies really must stop—I'm actually starting to like you." The blond smirked a bit more widely at the look of abject horror that covered the raven-haired teen's face.

Harry groaned again and gave it up as a bad job. He shook his head once more, and fixed the Slytherin with a hard look. "Can that Unbreakable Vow protect your mind? And what about Veritaserum or the Veritas spell? You know there's any number of ways Voldemort can get at you."

"Merlin, Potter, the way you're talking you'd think he'd appear at any minute." But a troubled, clouded look flitted across the blonde's face.

Harry, for his part, wondered vaguely if the other boy knew something about Voldemort that he (supposedly) didn't. "Malfoy, I need to know." /Or else I've put you in a hell of a lot more danger than I first thought./

Draco, frustratingly, did not answer—not the way Harry wanted him to, anyway. "You need to know a lot of things, Potter. Whether it does is not something you need to worry about right now."

Harry tried—and failed—to find some sort of implied insult to his intelligence in that remark. And although his thoughts differed on the latter part of the blonde's statement, he bit his tongue and held his peace. Malfoy, obviously, had something he needed to say.

The Slytherin bit his bottom lip, face paler than normal, and looked pensive for a few seconds, before finally snapping his gray-silver eyes up to lock with Harry's.

The raven-haired teen nearly took a startled step back at the intense look he was leveled with.

They stared at each other for a few moments, and Harry grew uneasy as more time passed and the Slytherin said nothing. He had no idea what was going on behind the blonde's gray gaze and would not risk shattering the tenuous peace they had established between themselves by attempting a (likely botched) Legilimens spell. He'd have to trust Malfoy's intentions.

Well aware of the Slytherin's skills, that was not an easy task for Harry.

Malfoy must have seen something he liked in the Gryffindor's face, however. A second later, he blew out a long breath, visibly relaxing. Drawing himself up to his full 5'5" height, he pressed his lips together and gazed evenly at the other fourteen-year-old. "Harry," and Harry reeled at the sudden usage of his first name, "listen, it isn't safe here for you—for Granger, either."

"What?" Harry rapped out, utterly stunned, drawing a total blank when he knew he should be well aware of what Draco was trying to say.

"Shut up a minute and listen. You obviously know what a Death Eater is. Do you know what they do?"

Harry knew he should shake his head, lie, but in the face of what Malfoy was offering, he could only nod dumbly, realizing suddenly with crystal clarity what the blond was getting at. /No way. He can't possibly…!/

The line the blond had pressed his lips into thinned. "Then you know what would happen if they suddenly appeared in a place like this, with Muggles and Muggleborns and half-bloods."

/Damn, I knew he was serious when he gave that Unbreakable Vow, but this serious?/

"You also know what they would do to you given half the chance."

Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a slight flicker of concern dart in the gray-silver eyes of the Slytherin before just as quickly disappearing. /Sweet Merlin, what happened to the Malfoy I thought I knew? What the hell is going to happen now?/

He needed to speak with Hermione. That much was clear. Something in Malfoy had drastically altered, just in the ten minutes they had been talking. Already, the Malfoy heir that stood in front of him was following an entirely different path than the one he remembered. And, not for the first time since this whole crazy adventure began, he found himself worrying about what was to come.

/Even the smallest change can alter Destiny's course. That's what Nefertiti said. I guess it's true./

Drawing in a deep breath and allowing the tension in his shoulders to lax, Harry nodded. Worrying about this now would get him nowhere. So he straightened, and raised an eyebrow at his companion, a grin threatening to appear on his lips. "Basically, what you're trying to say is 'thank you' and 'be careful,' right?"

Malfoy started sputtering. "You...You're absolutely mad, Potter."

Promptly, he glanced away; glaring at something only he could see. Harry, however, caught the faint tinge of blush on his pale cheeks as his hands curled themselves into his sleeves.

The Gryffindor smirked, shadowed though it was by worry. "You're a horrible liar, Malfoy." The blond immediately spun to face him. At the furious frown the other boy sent in his direction, Harry let out a small chuckle. "Never mind. What if I said 'you're welcome' and 'I promise?'"

Malfoy snorted, but gave a nod. "I don't know exactly what my father has planned, Potter. I just know it's something. Make sure Granger and the Weasleys know it, too." His gray-silver eyes took on a glint of steel. "Potter, make sodding sure you keep that promise of yours. I'll delay my father as long as possible, but there's no bloody way I can--"

Harry grinned slightly and stepped up to the blond, interrupting him. Laying a hand on the Slytherin's shoulder, he gently squeezed it. When Malfoy half-heartedly snarled at him, he merely responded, "I will."

IOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOI

Really, it would have been much simpler to say good-bye, shake hands, and walk away. They could pretend this had never happened, that they merely met, exchanged a few words, and decided to a truce, nothing resembling a friendship, certainly…

Where the difficulty lay, however, was in the fact that Harry did not think all Malfoy had done for him—Draco, he supposed now—could fall under the title of "truce."

But Merlin, what the bloody hell could he say?

With a sigh, he held out his hand to Draco. "So…we agree? No dueling, hexing, or insulting, and we're both careful? I'll do my best to shut up Ron; if you could--"

Draco smirked a bit, and Harry was absurdly grateful for the return of at least some normalcy. "Don't worry about Granger, Potter. I think I can manage something. As for Weasley…that might be a bit harder. The most I can offer right now is to ignore him." His eyes hardened. "But if he so much as steps out of line…"

Harry rolled his eyes with a good-natured grimace. "Trust me, I got it. Anyway," he brought his eyes back on-level with the blonde's and smiled a bit, once more holding out his hand, "agreed?"

The other teenager stared at it a few minutes before taking in a deep breath and releasing it. He took a couple of steps forward and grasped Harry's outstretched hand, firmly shaking it as he met the Gryffindor's emerald eyes. "Agreed."

Tbc.