Dream Lover

beta'd by knightmare. Too much love to express. Thank you snookems. Thanks also to all my slashinistas scattered far and wide for holding my hands, sometimes just to keep them away from the delete key.

A/N: For those reading on AFF, this chapter brings you up to date with where I am writing this story. A bit of background, this started as a one shot, the scene from POA the movie, where Draco stalks up to Harry and almost kisses him (cuz, you know he was gonna!). My beta said there was more to the story, and so now we have this. Chapter 12: Aftermath:Secrets Revealed is at the beta shoppe, then one more chapter will complete the 'plot' of the story. Shortly after chapter 13, I'll post an epilogue and my first chaptered fic will be complete. *wipes tear* Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews, and for faithfully reading!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

*************

Burning warmth, and a brightness, to pierce his fractured soul sliced through his consciousness. He followed the thread of the link into the light. If he had the ability, he would have blinked against the dazzling purity of the mind he ruthlessly invaded. He allowed the essence of his consciousness to reach out, and insinuate itself into the one he was leeching onto in his parasitic manner. Using the boy’s senses he heard,

”I know the answer, Potter. I know how you can defeat the Dark Lord!”

Recognising that voice, he allowed his rage to propel him forcibly back into his own body. With a small, cruel smile, he touched his wand to his servant’s arm just above the silver hand, intoning low and smooth the words to an ancient spell.

*

Harry looked at Professor Snape in a strangely detached manner as they moved through the infirmary toward the room where Dumbledore was sitting with Ginny, awaiting the St. Mungo’s officials. He’d never seen Snape look so…exhausted. He looked worse than at any time Harry could remember, even after reporting to Dumbledore directly after a Death Eater meeting one night.

“Sir, what did you find out?”

Snape turned and was about to issue a scathing retort when his eyes flared wide and he gripped his own arm just below the elbow. Harry watched in growing concern as the normally coolly collected man fell to his knees, face reddening with the effort to not cry out.

Severus felt the pain spread through his body, originating in his Dark Mark, and radiating from there to every pore, exploding in star bursts behind his eyes. The muscles in his neck stood out as he grimaced against the pain. This was far worse than any Crucio he’d ever been placed under, and the concentration he was extending to block his mind and thoughts from being taken by the pain was slowly eating away his stubborn will.

Harry watched as Snape’s eyes rolled up and gasped in horror as he saw that the whites had gone a bright red as the blood vessels in his eyes burst. Snape wasn’t even breathing anymore, was holding everything inside to keep from betraying the amount of pain he was under. As Harry watched, Snape’s shoulders hunched as he literally curled around the pain.

“PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!!” Harry screamed, dropping to his knees beside Snape, but afraid to touch him lest he make it worse. He had no idea what was going on; there was a curious lack of anything from his scar.

Snape suddenly grabbed him, and with the last bit of strength the man possessed, told him through clenched teeth, “No…magic. You can’t…use anything magical…against Voldemort. Warn… the students and Professors…ahh! He’s…coming. Death…Eaters.” The last word was a near whisper of pain before Snape collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Harry looked up, overwhelmed with fear and confusion, as Professor Dumbledore came at a run, booted feet slapping the tile floor as the old man gave a shout of, “Poppy! We need you!”

Dumbledore turned to Harry, who realised he was holding onto Snape with a tight grip. “What happened, Harry?”

Harry shook his head, words failing him.

Dumbledore took Harry’s face in his hands and looked deep into his eyes. “I’m going to look, Harry. Please relax.”

Harry nodded, relieved.

“Legilimens!”

Harry didn’t know how long Dumbledore spent inside his head, time was a concept he was having difficulty processing at the moment, but he did notice that when Dumbledore entered his mind, it didn’t drain him as much as when Snape did. He felt the rifling, ghostly fingers, but they didn’t feel as foreign for some reason.

When Dumbledore finally pulled back, the old man sat back on his heels with an exhausted sigh. Turning to Snape, he took the man’s arm between his hands and, heaving a huge breath, closed his eyes, seeming to concentrate, as he said, “Adsertum.”

Harry looked on anxiously, having no idea what the Headmaster was doing, but having a good enough grasp of Latin from his various courses to know that the word to the spell meant ‘to set free.’

“Sir?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but needing answers badly. “What is going on?”

“I am attempting to sever Professor Snape’s link to Voldemort through his Dark Mark.”

“Is it working?”

“No, it is not, which is very troubling indeed.”

“Why is that so troubling?”

“Because,” Dumbledore said, turning deeply worried blue eyes on Harry. “If I were of equal or greater power to Voldemort, I would be able to at least transfer Professor Snape’s bond to me. As it is, all I can do is mute the connection.”

“You mean…Voldemort is more powerful than you now?” Harry asked, barely able to voice the question.

“I’m afraid so, my boy. Now, we need to make plans. Voldemort is calling his lieutenants together. He is moving against Hogwarts tonight.”

“What?!” Harry shouted. “How do you know?”

“Severus told you, dear boy. Oh, and we need to find a purely non-magical weapon for you to use against him, of course.”


*

Battle preparations were going strong throughout Hogwarts; Aurors had Floo’d directly from the Ministry and Order Headquarters upon receiving word that Harry Potter was ready to move against Voldemort. While the layout of the Castle was being analysed for defensive purposes, Harry found himself once again in deep conversation with Snape. Only this time, the older wizard was reclining on one of the infirmary’s cots, recovering from his earlier trip to Voldemort’s mind and subsequent torture.

“How are you feeling, sir?”

“I’m fine, Potter," he said through gritted teeth, the pain in his arm bearable, but still nearly white hot. "Don’t waste your precious concern on me.”

“And Draco… You’re sure he’s okay?” Harry asked, not for the first time.

“Yes, idiot boy. I brought him back with me. As soon as we passed from the Dark Lord’s mind, his consciousness returned to his body.”

“Then why isn’t he waking up?”

“Because,” an aggrieved sigh split the air then, at having to explain this yet again, “being trapped in the Dark Lord’s consciousness drained him. He is in a healing sleep to help him restore his magical core. It is for the best. Now, can we speak of more urgent matters? I need to ensure you aren’t going to do something stupid, and ruin this chance at finally killing the Dark Lord once and for all.”

“Sir, first of all, there is nothing more important to me than Draco. If there is even the remotest chance that he is still trapped in Voldemort’s mind, then I have no problem calling this whole thing off.”

“Potter, have I ever lied to you?”

Harry blinked as he thought about this. No, to the best of his knowledge, Snape had never once lied to him. He studied the older man, taking in the lines of exhaustion etched into the pale features.

Snape had collapsed five hours before from the pain of being tortured through his Mark. It was now Sunday afternoon; Draco had been in his deep slumber for nearly fifteen hours, and Harry was becoming frantic that his lover would never wake up.

Focusing on the present, he drew in a deep breath and admitted, “No, sir. Even when the truth has been painful…especially when the truth has been painful, you’ve never kept it from me. I just…I don’t understand why he’s not waking up.”

Snape dragged a shaking hand to his face and covered his eyes with it, digging his fingers into his temples to ward off the migraine he felt approaching. “You’ve no idea what it was like, being in his mind. Draco was in there for over five hours before I was able to retrieve him. If…when he awakens…he may very well not be the same person he was before he went in. Be prepared for that, Potter.”

Harry looked over at the bed where Draco slept on, swallowing past a lump of fear that kept lodging in his throat. Draco would wake up, he had to believe that. Because if he didn’t, there was nothing to fight for.

“So, the weapon…do you have any ideas?” Harry asked, nearly desperate now to change the subject he himself had been so eager to bring up.

Snape shot him a glare before snorting softly. “It figures you would need help in even this. What part of non magical item confuses you, Potter?”

“It just doesn’t make sense, sir. According to what you’re telling me, I could hit him with a car and he would die, but if I cast Avada Kedavra on him, he would simply absorb the power of the spell and suffer a little pain for it. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sensical or not, the only way to destroy him is to kill him with an item that is devoid of all magical essence. It will need to be something that is from the Muggle world, as even non magical items tend to absorb magic over a period of time. We don’t want to take any chances.”

Harry nodded. “Hermione went with Professor McGonagall to London to get an appropriate weapon.”

Snape narrowed his eyes and sneered, hearing that. “You should have gone, Potter. You will be the one to use the item, after all. You should not have left it to another to select the item with which you intend to kill your enemy.”

Harry shrugged. “I really don’t care what they pick out. I’m not leaving Draco. Not until I know for sure that he’s going to be all right.”

“Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey broke in to their quiet conversation. “I would appreciate it if you let my patient rest now. Mr. Malfoy is not the only wizard whose magical core is in need of replenishing. Now, Professor, I have some potions here I need you to drink, and drink them you will.”

Harry felt a sparkle of amusement at the look on Snape’s face when he took his own pain and replenishing potions. The mediwitch raised a fuss when he refused the sleeping potion, causing Snape to growl out, “Woman, there are important events transpiring now. I refuse to let Potter bungle this mission. If I fall asleep now, I’m certain that is exactly what will happen.”

Harry snorted at that, nearly missing the weak voice calling his name from across the aisle. As soon as it registered on him, however, he spun and took two running strides to Draco’s bedside. “Draco?! Are you awake? Talk to me, love. Please tell me you’re okay!”

Draco’s lashes fluttered against his ashen cheeks. To everyone else, the boy looked like he had travelled to hell and back—actually quite an apt description—to Harry, he’d never seen anything more beautiful. It was the first sign of wakefulness he’d exhibited.

“Harry,” Draco’s voice was a rough whisper. “I’m cold, Harry.”

Harry crawled onto Draco’s cot, using his body to help warm his lover. “Shh, Draco, I’m here, love. I’ll warm you up.”

“Obviously you’re here,” Draco’s sneer was only a shadow of its normal glory, but seeing it sent hope flooding through Harry. “You’re squashing me, you git. Get off and get me a blanket. Or ten. It’s bloody freezing in here.”

Harry laughed, a combination of relief and exhilaration making him giddy. Declining to relinquish his position on his lover for the moment, he dropped his head and captured Draco’s lips with his own in a soul shattering kiss. The kiss went on for several moments before a screech from Madam Pomfrey pulled them apart.

Breaking free of the kiss, Harry raised up to look deep into Draco’s eyes. “I love you, Draco. I thought I was going to die when Voldemort took you.”

Draco shuddered, fear lining his features for a moment before he quickly masked it. “Harry, I heard something while I was…there. The Dark Lord is vulnerable—“

“Shh, Draco, we know, love. Professor Snape woke up earlier and told us.”

Draco nodded and shivered, still cold. His experiences while in Voldemort’s mind would haunt him for the rest of his life. “I…Harry, I love you, too. I had to tell you. I just…I would never have survived in there if it weren’t for you. I thought I was going to lose myself, and all I could think about toward the end was coming back to you.”

“Oh, bloody brilliant. I survive one form of torture only to have to sit through this mushy, romantic drivel,” Snape said, causing Harry to sit up and glare at him over his shoulder. “Too much is transpiring now for the two of you to be tossing verbal flowers at each other. We have plans to make.”

“’We’?” Pomfrey asked, sending a stern look Snape’s direction. “I wasn’t aware Harry had a mouse in his pocket, Professor. And, as he’s the only one of you three in any condition to go anywhere, he’s the only one who will be making plans. Do I make myself clear?”

Snape growled at the medi-witch, but threw himself back on the cot, grumbling about bloody interfering witches.

The doors to the infirmary slammed open and McGonagall came running in, a parcel clutched in her hands as she said, nearly frantic, “Voldemort is here. He and over a hundred Death Eaters are on the grounds!”

Harry jumped to his feet, only one emotion driving him: the need to kill Voldemort for all he had done to him, to Draco, and to everyone Harry loved. Turning and placing a kiss on Draco’s lips, he murmured, “Stay here, you’ll be safe. I love you, Draco. I’ll be back for you.”

“Harry—“

“Please, Draco. I have to know that you’re safe. If I have to worry about you, I’ll end up getting myself killed.”

Draco swallowed hard and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to argue. Giving a short nod, he listened to Harry’s footsteps walk away from him. Opening his eyes to catch one last glance of his lover, his soul mate, he saw movement from across the room.

Severus pushed himself from the bed and grabbed his robes off a nearby chair. Shrugging into the robes, he checked his pocket for his wand and turned to follow Potter from the room. Suddenly, Draco was standing, swaying minutely, beside him.

“I’m coming with you, sir. Harry might need me and I’m just a sitting duck up here. Voldemort knows about our bond and he will do anything in his power to use that to manipulate Harry. If I am where Harry can see that I’m okay, he will be able to focus on killing Voldemort and this whole bloody mess will be over.”

Snape looked down at Draco and nodded shortly. He didn’t have the time or patience to argue with the boy.

*

As Harry and McGonagall hurried down the halls, listening for the sounds of battle, she filled him in.

“The last of the younger children have been safely relocated. We knew he was planning to come here, but we thought we had more time to prepare, so most of the upper years are still here.”

“The DA?” Harry asked.

“Still here. Actually, they refused to leave, regardless. But there are also upper years whose allegiance we are not so certain about. You’ll need to watch your back.”

Harry nodded and increased the pace. He could feel Voldemort now. Could sense his malevolent presence.

“Please tell me you found a suitable weapon,” he said, looking to the package in her hand.

“Yes. Miss Granger and I both thought these items would be the best choices, considering your rather limited knowledge of weaponry.”

Coming to a halt just beyond the range of the entryway to the school, Harry turned to his Head of House and held out his hands. Panting slightly, the witch tugged the strings off the parcel, revealing a small assortment of very Muggle looking weapons.

There was a gun, which Harry instinctively passed over with a shake of his head. Seeing the questioning gaze McGonagall levelled at him, he explained, “I don’t know the first thing about firearms. I’d be just as likely to shoot an Order member, as shoot Voldemort with that.”

Lying beside the gun was a rather ornately carved, vicious looking dagger, which Harry lifted, placing it in its sheath before sliding the whole thing in the pocket of his robes. There were also a few short swords, but Harry shook his head at those as well. “If I have to get that close to him, the dagger will work just as well.”

With a grin, he lifted the final item off the packaging paper: a common Muggle bow and quiver of arrows.

“The tips of the arrows are lead,” McGonagall explained. “Lead is a nearly magical null. You can use it from a distance, but you should still be careful. Much like the pistol, you could seriously hurt someone with this.”

Harry nodded and slipped the bow over one shoulder and the quiver over the other, drawing his wand and whispering a quick, “Good luck, Professor,” before rounding the corner and running down the steps to join the Order Members and DA who were standing five and six people deep at the doors to the castle.

Striding confidently toward the front, pushing through the gathering throng, he turned to address them all. Suddenly the fear left him and a sense of calm took its place. He had been born for this moment. It would all end here and now.

Looking into the expectant faces surrounding him, he spoke with quiet authority, “Voldemort dies today.”

*

Draco and Snape Flooed to the Potions classroom first, allowing Snape to change into battle robes, while Draco collected a large number of healing and pain potions that Snape had been carefully stockpiling for a day like today. Shrinking the vials, Draco placed them in the pockets of his robes.

The entire time he worked, Draco could hear the sounds of battle echoing down from above. Miraculously, the sound reassured him. He knew instinctively that if anything happened to Harry, the battle would come to a quick end. He turned, ready, when Snape re-entered the room.

“Draco, we need to leave this room separately. I don’t want to be forced to use you against Potter.”

Draco looked at his Professor, a frown wrinkling his brow as questions popped into his head. “You would use me against Harry?”

Snape sighed tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am still a Death Eater, Draco. The only thing that will sever that connection for good is the Dark Lord’s death. I cannot disobey a direct order from him.”

Draco swallowed thickly and nodded his understanding. Not only would he stay far away from his Head of House, but he would keep a sharp eye on him as well. He didn’t want to have to kill the man, but he would do anything to protect Harry.

He watched Snape leave the room and waited a few moments, gathering himself, willing strength into his exhausted mind and body before travelling the corridors to where the noise of battle was originating.

The closer he got to the fighting, the steadier he became. He was a Slytherin, and like any good student of that house, he had weighed and measured this battle long before this day had come. Lying low was no longer an option; Voldemort knew of his relationship with Harry. The only viable decision to be made was to stand and fight…and take as many people from the other “side” out as possible.

This would be the hardest day of his life, he knew. There was the very real, very distinct possibility that he would end up clashing wands with his own father.

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, beyond which he could already see a kaleidoscope of wand sparks, he drew a deep breath, pulled out his wand, and raised his shields. He would not go down without showing the strength of the House of Slytherin, and the power of a Malfoy.

~*~

Three hours later, the battle was still going strong. Voldemort had erected shields around himself that none could break through, but at the same time kept him from casting against anyone either, so while the ground was littered with bodies, none were at his hand.

Draco spun around, narrowly avoiding a bolt of blue light that originated from behind a partially blasted statue of Gefnik the Great.

“Draco, darling, come to auntie Bella,” he heard, causing him to shudder at the sugary sweet tone.

His dear aunt then set about trying to kill him, laughing manically as she hurled curse after curse at him, calling him a blood traitor and a Mudblood lover. He simply sneered right back and threw up his strongest Shielding Charm, only lowering it when he saw Fenrir Greyback try to attack Harry from the rear.

Not thinking, he dropped his shields and cast Petrificus Totalus on the werewolf. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his body engulfed in pain as the slashing hex found its mark.

*

Harry had no idea that his soul mate was involved in the fight until he heard Snape’s voice shout Draco’s name. He’d been fighting on endlessly, using every scrap of knowledge he’d gleaned over his years and every bit of power in his body, and he had yet to face Voldemort directly.

The Death Eaters were protecting their Lord well. As well as the Order members were protecting him, actually. He had been fighting side by side with Hermione and Ron for the first hour and had extracted their individual promises, between the rounds of hexes and curses, to kill Voldemort for him if he should fall. He had no faith in the power of the prophecy. If Voldemort didn’t die by Harry’s hand, he would die by someone’s.

The trio had been separated, however, when Ron had seen Bill surrounded by four Death Eaters. He’d rushed through a throng of bodies, knocking people down left and right, to reach his brother’s side. After watching to be sure he made it safely and had the situation well in hand, Harry had lost sight of him, and had been drawn back into his own battle with Antonin Dolohov.

When Harry heard Snape’s shout, his blood turned to ice. Neither Snape nor Draco should have been out of the Infirmary. They should be safe, dammit!

Harry watched as Snape fought his way to the middle of the wall, next to a decimated statue. Taking advantage of his inattention, a still-masked Death Eater threw a hex at Harry. Hermione, still fighting by his side, saw the hex and knocked him out of the way just in time.

“Harry!” she shouted, wide brown eyes flicking to him to ascertain his condition. “Pull yourself together! I am not killing Voldemort for you, you git!”

Harry shook himself out of his panic for Draco and focussed again on the battle. He would have to trust Snape to ensure that Draco was looked after. But the fear for Draco, once awakened, was the impetus he needed to finish this thing.

“Hermione,” he said, as a sudden thought, so simple and yet so effective, hit him. “Any spell can be ended by Finite Incantatem, right?”

Hermione didn’t bother looking at him, just nodded as she ducked an Avada. He watched her tremble a bit after the jet of green light hit the castle wall and caused a brief, visible ripple in the castle’s wards. Harry had lost track of the number of times that particular spell had been lobbed at them, and so far their sheer dumb luck had held out.

Shaking his head clear of unnecessary thoughts, he leapt across the balcony where they were fighting and looked down, spotting Voldemort almost immediately. As Hermione doubled her efforts to keep all attention focussed on her, he leaned over the railing and cast Finite Incantatem on Voldemort, nearly laughing in triumph when the shimmering air around him dissipated.

Voldemort’s shields were down, now was the time for the real battle to begin.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled the bow off his shoulder, where it had been resting all during the fighting. Taking an arrow from the quiver, he fitted its notch into the thin, taught cord of the bow, shaking just a tiny bit as he lined up his hands, pulled the shaft of the arrow against the wood grain of the bow, and turned to aim at Voldemort…who was looking right at him.

Harry pulled back on the bow, training the arrow on Voldemort’s heart. Letting out all his breath, he released the tense bow strings…

...and watched in dismay as the arrow flew a pitiful ten feet before flopping to the ground below with a series of dull clacks. Shite! He had never used a bow and arrow set before, but it hadn’t seemed too complicated. What in the name of Merlin were they going to do now?

Voldemort moved to the base of the stairs, nearly overcome with laughter at Harry’s expense. That laughter, that sound that seemed to accompany the deaths of everyone this creature had ever killed, caused a swell of fury like nothing Harry had ever experienced before. He threw the useless bow to the ground and reached for the dagger in his pocket. No more. This would end here and now.

The cold steel tip of the dagger was pointed straight at Voldemort; it seemed to be encouraging Harry to bury it deep within Voldemort’s dead, icy heart. With a strangled yell, Harry ran down the steps, launching himself at Voldemort from a handful of steps up. Gravity and momentum did the rest.

Harry watched with a kind of sick pleasure as a stunned look crossed his enemy’s face when the tip of the dagger pierced his papery thin flesh. Harry bore down on the handle with all his might, pushing harder and deeper, twisting it viciously from side to side, searching for Voldemort’s heart. He would not realise until much later that not only did he shred Voldemort’s heart, but his lungs as well.

Harry had wondered before how he would know when Voldemort was truly dead. That question was answered in as frightening a fashion as it could possibly have been. A wave of intense power flashed out from Voldemort, knocking everyone within a fifty foot radius off their feet, then the power seemed to double back in upon itself, aiming directly for Harry.

He felt it hit him and consume him, nearly choking him. He simply knew he would explode with the force of the power battering him. He felt the energy draining steadily from his body…

TBC