Never A Memory

A/N: By request--and rightly so--I have revised Chapters "All that is Unholy" and "Deny the Martyr". Now, they are one, single chapter under the title "Deny the Martyr". I hope this abates any further confusion. Feel free to ask questions if you do.

Enjoy.





The term martyr (Greek μάρτυς "witness") initially signified a witness in the forensic sense, a person called to bear witness in legal proceedings.

Martyr is also a term in psychology for a depressed person with a very negative, pessimistic attitude about everything in life. ~Wikipedia

"III id. ian. Romæ, in cymiterio Callisti, via Appia, depositio Miltiadis episcopi"

"The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose."
- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), The Merchant of Venice, I.iii

"Better to light a candle than curse the darkness."
- Chinese Proverb


~Deny the Martyr~

Later…
~*~

Elbow deep in ancient parchment, Severus Snape shuddered to the depths of his core. His mind raced beneath his unruly, oily locks and despair settled itself like a cold rock in the pit of his stomach.

Maul.

Draco was researching Maul.

Severus knew of only two other people who knew what Maul was and what that blasted thing held in its keeping--both of whom were dead. Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle...Lord Voldemort.

And when Voldemort had unearthed the secret of Maul, he had discovered the secret to ensuring his own immortality.

The Seven Keys.

Or, as Dumbledore called them, and later Harry Potter--who destroyed them--Horcruxes.

Only Maul has the power to bestow the Seven Keys...and only Voldemort had attempted to create all seven; shredding his soul into pieces through murder and darkness, storing them into trinkets and...other things...and keeping them hidden.

A locket, a ring, a cup, a headdress, a journal, a snake, and a boy...Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Again and Again.

The exact art of it, the actual formula in its entirety, was Maul's to horde. The ancients made sure of that. But Voldemort had wrested the secret from the Black Tulpa somehow and used it to his own means.

Was Draco Malfoy thinking to create Horcruxes for himself?

That thought alone made cold sweat break over his brow. Severus had been concerned about his godson ever since Narcissa had passed. The years when Draco was in St. Mungo's had allowed Severus to breathe a little easier, knowing at least he was safe...from himself as well as others.

How much could one person take before they broke?

Severus Snape feared he may have passed that point already...if he was following in Lord Voldemorte’s footsteps and looking to shred his soul into pieces.

~*~

"Ah, Pansy, you're looking well," exclaimed a weary-looking but nonetheless suave Blaise Zabini as he swept through the main hall of the Parkinson Manor and into a sitting room where a fire blazed to keep out the late night chill. Pansy and Pandora Parkinson followed close behind, the former gritting her teeth against her irritation at being woken at the unseemly hour of three in the morning, and the latter blinking blearily and trying to be gracious as she conjured lights and murmured short, crisp orders to the House Elves to bring light refreshments and tea. "And Lady Pandora, lovely as ever."

Pandora nodded, exchanging a glance with her niece.

"I swear," Blaise continued, plopping down on a couch and propping up his feet. "For summer, it's awfully cold. All this rain, chills to the bone it does--"

"Actually, we've had fair nights for some time," Pansy tried to interject with an impatient flick of her wrist.

"The Straights were a right bitch to cross, all that wind," Blaise continued, unperturbed. "In any case, this place is quite charming. Cozy. I like a bit more green in my palette. Truly, Lady, you could use a few plants here and there. Did I mention? The hyacinth is in bloom all over the south and France positively reeks of lavender, the mists and rain is making it all permeate something awful. And the heat! Truly, with or without a few plants, ladies, do stay inside! Way too uncomfortable for your fair conditionings. My poor horses--"

"Zabini!" Pansy shrieked.

"Pansy, not so loud," Pandora admonished softly.

"Blaise," Pansy said in a more even tone. "Really..."

Blaise and Pansy regarded one another until Blaise flashed his impenetrable grin, hard white teeth glinting off the firelight. "So," Blaise said quietly. "Draco's in trouble."

Pansy exchanged another glance with her aunt, who nodded, blue-black hair shimmering in waves. "Were you aware," Pansy inquired, grave as a courtier, "that Draco had been re-marked by Lord Voldemort, in the center of his spine?"

Blaise's brows arched, but he made no other response.

"Well," Pansy continued, "his Mark is still quite visible and there are runes, ancient runes, etched along the edge of it."

"Still visible, you say?" Blaise rubbed his forearm uncomfortably. "And ancient runes?" Blaise stood to his feet and regarded the fire, his face unwontedly sober as he stared into the flames. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," Pansy murmured. "He...he was here yesterday morning. He and Potter were headed for Hogwarts when they left."

"Hogwarts..." Without warning, Blaise lashed out and punched the mantle, whirling on the two women standing a healthy distance away. "That doesn't help me, Pansy! Where. Is. He. Now? He wouldn't still be at Hogwarts."

"What's going on, Blaise? I knew you would know more than me. He said something about a Prophecy--"

"Pansy!" Blaise growled, his features turning a certain shade of dangerous. Pandora placed a warning hand on Pansy's elbow and stepped forward.

"I overheard Potter speaking to the young Malfoy about a 'grim old place'," Pandora said evenly. "In reference to returning there."

"Grim old place," Blaise echoed slowly. "Grim old place..." Suddenly, Blaise's irrepressible grin was back. "Ah, well." Blaise took a cinnamon candy from a nearby table and popped it into his mouth before reaching out with a slender finger and caressing Pandora's regal chin. Madam Parkinson tried to suppress her shiver but, well, they are what they are and Blaise knew it as well as she did. Blaise's golden eyes gleamed wickedly before lowering his hand to grasp hers. "Thank you, my lady," Blaise murmured, dropping a kiss on Pandora's wrist. Blaise turned to Pansy and offered her a mocking, sweeping bow. Then, he was gone as quickly as he had come.

Grim old place.

Try, Grimmauld Place.

~*~

Harry felt the familiar lurch in his stomach as he Apparated outside the Ministry and took a moment to catch his breath before beginning the long, somewhat--no, very--odd and arduous journey into the large magical building. Finally, forcing each step in front of the other, he entered, dodging charmed paper air planes as he headed for the elevator. He recited the speech he was going to present to the Minister, over and over, in his mind. And every time, Harry knew he sounded insane.

At best, Scrimgeour would demand that Draco be reprimanded into the Ministry's custody and Harry removed from the case. At worst...

Harry didn't want to think about the worst that could happen. He wouldn't think about it.

Harry entered the Auror's Division and looked around, feeling dizzy. Squinting, he could make out the Minister's Office across the valley of cubicles. The door to the office opened and Hermione Granger walked through the doorway, followed closely behind by his partner, Ron Weasley. Harry's scar began to ache and he shook his head to dispel the familiar feeling.

No, wait.

Harry no longer had the scar. The Horcrux scar. Now, the lightning bolt brand, courtesy of Lord Voldemort, was imprinted on Draco Malfoy's forehead.

Whom he left alone and unprotected at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Harry made out Hermione and Ron turning towards him as the Auror's Division swam in his gaze. The ghost of his scar began to burn fiercely and Harry heard a furious scream that echoed into despair. Harry wasn't sure if it was him, but, Merlin, it sounded like Draco. No, no, no...ah, no!

Aurors rushed up to him as Harry clutched his head, fisting his hair against the fierce pain. The sound of a violin, haunting laughter, cold, so cold. That scream again.

Rushing, rushing, rushing, the Aurors were rushing at him, the floor was rushing at him, the pain came from all around him...and then erupted from the center of his spine. Bone-shattering pain that he thought would never end. He writhed against it, shouting unintelligibly.

Then, there was nothing but a pit of never-ending blackness.

And the sweet, awful sound of a bow running across the strings of a violin.

~*~

Maul smiled, lips, new lips, young lips made for pleasure and cruelty, stretched over perfect white teeth that were not his own. That Riddle had made a perfect choice for him. This body was perfect. Perfect. Yes, perfect. Youthful, slender muscles coiled under pale skin, hiding secret physical strength beneath the seemingly frail anatomy. Maul stretched out his hand, gazing at the long fingers with well-manicured fingertips, and slowly closed the digits into a fist, feeling himself fill every limb of this young, beautiful body. The soul of the body's owner struggled valiantly against him and Maul knew he wasn't strong enough to possess this body completely for very long. But his strength was returning quickly and his Gatherer would be able to seal him inside the body and cast away the soul that fought with him. Strange memories of the young soul filtered and mixed with his own and Maul shook his head to dispel them, shimmering, silver-white hair falling into the eyes he looked out of. Maul smiled again. Hair the color of moonlight. How wonderful. Yes, this body would do just fine.

Maul gazed out of the window of this strange house he found himself in, listening to his Gatherer play the Song of Summoning over and over again on some stringed instrument. He could hear the music, but could not see the mortal who summoned him. He could find him. His precious Gatherer.

Maul turned, feeling his ancient power course through him like electricity, surges like sea waves spiking to the ends of his fingers and toes. Ah, toes! How long since he had those? Maul could not remember. All he remembered from before his pact with Tom Riddle, the rash, power-hungry young man who yearned for immortality, was the slow-burning hate, the demanding anger, the irrational wrath that made up the core of his being, that solidified him into a thinking entity, that earned him the right to possess the Seven Keys that so many coveted; and he held them at his center, clinging to their secrets and piously knowing that even though he had no use for this mighty power, it threw so many into pits of unending despair as Maul kept the Keys beyond their reach. Maul smiled again and headed for the stairway, the ears he was using straining to hear the Song of Summoning in the narrow corridor. But his lust for human form, his lust to control more souls had driven him to concede to Riddle's offer.

Maul descended the curving stair, marveling at how the ankles curved and the knees bent, how the limber legs supported his form. Another long corridor. And, there, at the end, a door leading to his freedom, to his weapon, to his Gatherer who would aid in the claiming of this body. This marvelous, beautiful body. And then more. More. More, more, more. Ah! How he hungered for it!

"Child, where are you off to now?" Madam Walburga Black inquired behind him from her portrait. "Your Auror instructed you to stay here."

Maul turned slightly, regarding her over his shoulder. His wonderfully sculptured shoulder.

Walburga gasped, a frail hand lifting to cover her mouth. "You're not Narcissa's boy."

Maul smiled darkly, even as the young soul roiled against him in his ever-valiant struggle to re-claim his body. "No, painted woman," Maul murmured. "I am not."

And for the first time in an age, Walburga Black had the grace to look frightened.

Maul reached the door and, with an awe-inspiring twist of his wrist and clever grip of his fingers, the doorknob was turned and the door opened. A fresh wave of music, no longer encumbered by walls and magic, washed over him and Maul breathed in the lovely smell of human stench, pollution, and oil-slickened asphalt streets. Ah, what wonderful creatures, these humans! Maul thought perhaps he had been one once. But he could not remember.

Maul followed the Song of Summoning down streets, quiet mostly due to the late hour, through alleys, under a dark highway ramp awash in an orange glow and humming with the few automobiles that drove across it, a small granite tunnel that landed him amidst a thicket of trees, and there, on the far side, was a field of grass dotted with a few more trees--a clipped, molded park of sorts--and a bonfire. Standing before the flames was the black silhouette of a man, a violin perched between his clean-shaven chin and his shoulder.

With one last fluid motion, the man brought the bow across the strings, ending the lullaby with a harsh, haunting, resounding note, the shrill sound filling the air between them.

His Gatherer.

Maul smiled his horrible smile.

~*~

Harry awoke with a start, blinking furiously and shaking off the hands that tried to help him up. He must have fainted. A blush of red burned his cheeks as he thought of the teasing Draco Malfoy had once scrutinized him with for fainting on the Hogwarts Express when Dementors had been looking for his now-deceased godfather Sirius Black.

Draco.

Harry jumped to his feet, ignoring the sounds of protest from the Aurors and medics surrounding him, and bolted, running at breakneck speed for the elevator. Distantly, Harry registered the sound of Ron yelling at him for him to come back and Scrimgeour shouting for an explanation. But then the elevator was shut and he was gliding down to the main floor. His head ached and the ghost of his scar tingled. And, Merlin, his back hurt like fury. Finally, the elevator hit the main floor and Harry was off like a bullet again, breathing hard and fast, his adrenaline pumping away the sheer and unexplainable terror that told him something was very, very wrong. He had to get back to Grimmauld Place. Immediately.

Outside of the Ministry of Magic's magical defenses, Harry Apparated to the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. A horrible sinking feeling settled in his stomach as he realized the front door was ajar. Harry ran inside, ignoring the rampant shrieking of Walburga Black and searched the bottom floor, shouting for Draco. He wasn't there. Harry ran to the stairway, taking the steps two at a time and scoured every room. The window was open in their bedroom again. The only time it was open was when Draco sleepwalked. Harry felt despair coil the muscles in his body, clenching his heart relentlessly. He was too late.

Harry sprinted back down the stairs and approached Madam Black's portrait, his eyes burning a furious shade of green. "Where did he go?" Harry demanded. "I know you saw him leave."

Walburga paused mid-shriek. "How dare you speak to me, you filthy Half-blood?"

In a surge of anger, Harry punched the wall next to the portrait. "Where is he?!"

Walburga opened her mouth, a sharp retort on her lips dying with a sigh. "Narcissa's boy is gone."

"Where?!"

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "He has been replaced. He is all that is unholy. The Dark One has returned."

Harry clutched at his hair, anger and fear shaking his body. He turned in a circle, spared one last look at Walburga before summoning his broom, and flew from the hall, out the door, and into the night.

The Unbreakable Vow he swore itched at the corner of his mind as he flew, following the tingling and burning of the ghost-scar, wind whipping his hair erratically. He had sworn it. Harry just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

All that is unholy.

Walburga Black's words sent shivers down his aching spine as his eyes darted here and there, searching for the white-haired, grey-eyed Slytherin whom he had grown so many feelings for, the man he might have to kill. Harry wondered if this was how Severus Snape had felt when he rushed into the Astronomy Tower, knowing his godson wouldn't be able to kill his Headmaster.

A searing pain struck his forehead and the ghost of his scar burned ever-stronger. Harry set his mouth in a fierce, grim line. He was getting closer.

~*~

Blaise Apparated onto the street called Grimmauld Place and looked around. A simple enough avenue reeking of Muggles; vacated though, due to the lateness of the hour. Blaise walked slowly down the sidewalk, gazing at one building after the other. Pausing, Blaise narrowed his eyes on the space between two buildings. The ones numbered Eleven and Thirteen. Blaise frowned. There was nothing there.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from nothingness, right between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen. The figure halted, peering back at him. Then the figure whipped out his wand and, before Blaise could retrieve his own, the figure shouted: "Accio Wand!"

Blaise's wand flew from his hand and landed neatly in the hand of the man before him. Blaise scowled. If the man was aggressive, Blaise would be dead already.

"Draco?" Blaise called out.

The figure approached quickly, frowning back at him with all the irratation and distaste Severus Snape could muster. "Zabini."

Blaise snorted bemusedly, eyeing his former Head of House; though, he was silently relieved. "I'm looking for Draco," Blaise said evenly. "Pansy sent me; the Parkinson’s are concerned about him."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Are they, now?" he sneered.

Blaise regarded Snape stolidly. "He's not here, then."

Severus was quiet for a moment. "No," he said flatly.

They stared at one another for a few minutes before Blaise sighed, throwing up his hands in an exaggerated fashion. "I think Maul has possessed Draco, Snape. It's quite essential that we locate him immediately."

Severus frowned. "Possessed?"

"Yes, possessed," Blaise repeated with an impatient flick of his wrist. "Bellatrix Lestrange warned me about a Prophecy--"

"What Prophecy?" Snape demanded.

Blaise recited the Prophecy, watching Severus' shoulders slump as he did so. Then, Severus let loose a string of crude incentives Blaise hadn't known he was capable of. Then Severus shouted for Draco's eagle-owl, which came immediately, Hedwig trailing behind nervously.

"Pan," Severus said. "I need you to help me find your master." Pan ruffled his feathers and cocked his head to the side. "Can you do that?" Severus asked patiently, understanding that owls like Pan weren't used to taking orders from Wizards who were not their Master. Pan cawed indignantly and Severus smiled, turning to Hedwig. "And you. I need you to send a message to Ronald Weasley at the Ministry of Magic."

Blaise stepped forward at that. "Are you sure that's the best idea, to involve the Ministry?"

"It would be suicide not to," Severus replied seriously, handing Blaise his wand.

~*~

The Gatherer gazed back at his Lord, Maul in the flesh...the flesh of Draco Malfoy. Despite his best efforts to steal Malfoy's magic and kill him, he had fulfilled the Hosting anyway. The Gatherer was partly disappointed, knowing that if he had succeeded in his gamble in America, he would be the Host and not the Malfoy Heir. Ah well, the Slytherin Prince made a striking form for the Black Tulpa anyway. Tall and pale, his features were cold and handsomely aristocratic, limbs long and slender, hair shining pale silver in the moonlight and large black eyes that never seemed to end. Lord Voldemort must have foreseen this effect. No one could deny Draco Malfoy his unnaturally good looks.

The Gatherer smiled and knelt, pressing his forehead against the dewy grass at Maul's feet. He waited. Finally, Maul smiled. "Rise, Gatherer. You have served me well."

"Thank you, my Lord," the Gatherer murmured, coming to his feet. "It is my life's honor to serve you."

"Hmm," Maul's terrible smile never faltered. "That remains to be seen." Maul raised his cold fingers to stroke the Gatherer's cheek, taking in his sunny eyes and mop of sandy curls. Maul's fingertips curled and he dug his nails into the tender flesh, dragging them down to his jaw line and relishing the sound of his startled gasp and the beauty of red, red blood running in thin rivers between his pale fingertips. "We will see." Maul pulled his hand away, his terrible smile still in place. "I certainly hope that scars."

Looking hurt, the Gatherer bowed his once-handsome head. "As you wish, my Lord."

Maul laughed, the horrible sound cutting through the night air like a knife. "Yes. Yes, indeed."

"My Lord," the Gatherer murmured, head still bowed. "The man that the Ministry assigned to Draco Malfoy will be looking for him."

Ah, yes. The black-haired one. He had struck him in the face a few nights ago, before he was strong enough to fully saturate the body. Maul remembered.

The soul inside the body struggled anew, and Maul was suddenly nauseated by the bright, expanding feeling that exploded from the soul and filled the body. It swelled inside of him like the rising sun, swirling around his heart with unimaginable affection and tenderness. A fierce, protective love. Maul spat, hating the emotion. The very notion of love offended him. Maul spat again, attempting to rid his mouth of the taste of sunlight.

Weakened already by the nauseating feeling, Maul stared hard at his Gatherer, a sudden thought coming to mind. "Servant, when the soul retakes this body, tell him that I will spare his lover if he surrenders to me completely."

"Yes, my Lord," the Gatherer replied immediately. "Who is this lover?"

Maul raised an immaculate, silver brow. "You don't know? The black-haired one. The body-guard. As you said, he would be looking for him."

Anger flashed in his Gatherer's sunny eyes, twisting his features with rage. "They're lovers?!"

Maul smiled slowly. Oh, yes. "And if you serve me well enough, Gatherer, I will let you have him."

The Gatherer nodded, his face still dark with an unexplainable wrath. Well, perhaps not unexplainable; Maul could read his thoughts easily if he wanted to. However, Maul didn't think it was necessary.

Then, leaving the taking of this body to his Gatherer, without whom, it would be difficult and take many weeks, Maul faded, shrinking into the depths of the body, a tiny niche beside the soul of Draco Malfoy.

The Gatherer watched Maul stiffen in the body of the Malfoy heir and his great, bottomless black eyes faded to frightened grey. Draco Malfoy blinked, trembling so badly he looked like he was seizing. He looked around like a wild animal, his eyes large and terrified. "Where am I?! Who are you?!"

The Gatherer tipped his head to one side, regarding Draco silently. His anger was a slow surge and pull inside of him and he had to will his temper in check.

"Why did you bring me here?!" Draco demanded, his voice rising to a shout. Draco spotted the gashes in the man's cheek and looked at his hand, his stomach lurching when he saw the bloody flesh engrained in his fingernails.

The Gatherer picked up his violin and placed it beneath his chin. He brought the bow across the strings, playing a few chords in creepy succession. Pain erupted from the Mark on Draco's back and he doubled over, falling to one knee. In clouds of black, Death Eaters began to appear in a standing circle around the crouched form of Draco Malfoy.

Draco looked up, shaken to his very core, and his mouth ran dry.

~*~

Harry nearly fell off his broom when the pain in his spine exploded again. This time, however, he did not faint and righted himself on the broom. Harry increased his speed, shooting through the night air on his broom, knowing he was close. Harry squinted through the darkness, spotting a small fire in a park on the outskirts of London City. Speeding like a bullet, Harry plummeted towards the fire. His heart leapt and he grit his teeth when he sighted a pale figure in the center of a circle of black-robed figures.

Death Eaters.

"Draco!" Harry screamed, wind whipping past him as he sped toward the ground at break-neck speed. Draco's silvery head lifted and his hand shot up. Harry flung out his arm and pulled hard on the broom with his other, grabbing Draco's arm and plucking him from the circle of Death Eaters. Harry swung hard with the arm that Draco clung to and Draco got his legs around the back of the broom, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the Auror's waist.

"Are they following?!" Harry shouted.

Draco craned his neck to look, seeing Death Eaters flying towards them, broomless, surging forward like a black cloud. Draco swallowed. "Yes!"

"Hold on," Harry gritted and leaned forward, increasing their speed as he headed straight for the city.

Harry went straight into Quidditch mode as the first red-bolted curse flew over his shoulder. Harry veered sharply left, feeling Draco's arms tighten around his waist as they whipped around a small building. Harry dodged into a tight alley, pulled right at the end of it, and nearly caused a car wreck when he flew into an intersection, hovering dangerously close to the Muggle contraptions. Harry flew lower, still speeding so quickly, their surroundings blurred to smears of color. Harry dodged dangerously between the oncoming automobiles, weaving between them and ducking low when a stray curse cast by a Death Eater struck something near them and exploded. The street widened and the cars became fewer.

"Watch the deck!" Draco shouted over Harry's shoulder when a fiery green curse struck the asphalt a few feet in front of them, causing sparks and rubble to explode in their faces. Harry pulled up, shooting them skyward as Draco held on for dear life.

"They're catching up!" Draco shouted and Harry leaned forward again, bolting towards the east side of town. "Where are we going?!"

"Diagon Alley!" Harry called back, keeping his focus on dodging the deadly curses being shot at them and keeping up his dangerous speed that wasn't quite fast enough. "We'll go faster on separate brooms!"

Draco was incredulous. "We don't exactly have time to stop and shop for brooms right now, Harry!"

Harry didn't respond as he plummeted down into another intersection and cut into another alley. Harry whipped left, and then right. And then right again. Then: "I'm gonna try something, Draco! Hold on!" Harry flung out his right arm, sending them into a spiral, his eyes darting as he searched for the shop he was looking for. "Accio Broom!" Harry shouted suddenly and an explosion of glass covered them. When they emerged from the shower of glittering glass, their flying spiral becoming erratic, a broom hovered near Harry's shaking, outstretched hand, flying alongside them. "Draco! Jump! Now!"

"Are you mad?!"

Harry growled, his magical hold on both brooms slipping, and reached behind him. Grabbing the cuff of Draco's shirt, Harry all but threw Draco onto the stolen broom. Wide-eyed with shock and with no idea which way was up, Draco grabbed the handle of the broom and wrapped his legs tightly around the end. Their dual spiral began to even out and Draco finally leveled his broom. He glanced to his left and saw Harry flying next to him, his face set and determined.

"Draco--” An explosion in front of them ripped the words from Harry's mouth. They jerked in opposite directions to avoid it, becoming parallel again as they gained speed.

"Where--?" Draco began.

"Fly, Draco!" Harry screamed, as another curse flew over his shoulder. "Just fly!"

And fly they did, heading ever-eastward, trying to get out of the city. They sped around corners, braved dangerous, nearly, suicidal spirals, and wove in and out of narrow streets as they attempted to shake their pursuers. Nearing the edge of the city, Harry began to draw back, shooting counter-curses back at the Death Eaters to try to give Draco a fighting chance of getting away. Draco began to slow, shouting at Harry to hurry.

Harry glared so fiercely, his face was nearly distorted. "Go!!" Harry screamed, sending another counter-curse behind him. Draco turned east again and pressed forward, his heart like a drum in his chest. A shout sounded behind him that made Draco looked back.

And his drumming heart nearly stopped. Harry, struck by a blazing red curse, fell, unconscious, from his broom and began a deadly free-fall towards the ground. Draco rounded immediately and rushed back, retrieving his wand from his pocket and screaming: "Suspendo Momentum!" Draco plummeted down to catch Harry's body as the Auror's descent slowed, mindful of the Death Eaters swarming down on them. Draco caught hold of Harry around his chest and landed in the middle of a baseball field in some residential neighborhood. Before he could Disapparate, a masked Death Eater grabbed his arm, while another took Harry's unconscious from and dumped him some few feet away. Draco shook off the hand on his arm and glared around at the masked, hooded figures. "Show yourselves!" Draco commanded. One by one, they unmasked themselves. A dozen faces he recognized...and so many he didn't.

Crabbe and Goyle were among the betrayals that hurt the most and Draco spat in their faces. "Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Draco sneered.

Goyle grinned. "We wanted to be here to serve you, Malfoy. We thought you would be pleased. Isn't that why you killed Lord Voldemort?"

Draco gaped at his stupid, open face before he exploded. "No!" he shrieked. "You fucking idiot! No! You think this is a fucking game, do you?! I cannot believe you didn't consult me before--"

"You were imprisoned at St. Mungo's," Crabbe interjected. Somewhere behind him, a Death Eater Draco didn't recognize chuckled, and Draco realized that Crabbe and Goyle had been duped for muscle, knowing that these two would follow if they thought Draco wanted this of them and that it was all part of his plan.

"Merlin, you stupid fucks! I wasn't--"

"Draco Malfoy," a rolling voice said, rich with laughter. The Death Eaters parted and bowed their heads to the passage of the Gatherer. A few feet from Draco, Harry stirred and, groaning, sat up. Harry blinked and looked up, taking in the faces around him. His gaze lingered on the Gatherer's the longest and he jumped to his feet, astonished.

"Cruent?!!" Harry exclaimed, his voice hitting a shrill, unhinged note Draco had never heard from him before.

Cruent, the elusive Gatherer, gazed coldly back at him. "Harry," Cruent said, all the laughter gone from his usually merry voice.

"You know him?!" Draco asked, shocked at the exchange.

"I thought I did," Harry responded after a moment, his astonishment slowly turning into a trembling rage rooted with betrayal.

Cruent turned back to Draco with a roll of his eyes. "Congratulations, Draco. You have become the Dark Lord."

Draco surged forward and about twelve hands rushed out to hold him back. "How dare you speak to me, you godforsaken fuck? Unhand me!" he snarled, struggling against the Death Eaters that pressed against him. "I will never be the Dark Lord, you hear me, you prick?! I killed him! He's never coming back!"

Cruent smiled, his sunny eyes crinkling, bright against the dark gouge in his cheek. "He's already inside of you; a permanent part of the great Maul who wishes to inhabit your body."

A tremor streaked through his body and Draco went limp in the hands that held him, hanging his head because he knew he was right. Cruent smiled. "Release him," the Gatherer commanded.

When Draco stood alone, Cruent approached him and tenderly caressed Draco's cheek.

"Don't touch him!" Harry hissed, but Death Eaters barred his way as he stepped forward.

"Maul has offered you a great gift," Cruent murmured, as if speaking to a lover. "He wishes to relay a message to you."

Draco raised his tormented gaze and stared blandly back at Cruent. He trembled under the Gatherer's touch.

"I will order the death of Harry Potter if you do not succumb to Maul and offer your body up to him as sacrifice," Cruent said in a soft, sweet voice, smiling into Draco's weary face. "But if you do surrender, he will be spared and the connection that ties you two together will be severed."

Draco bowed his head again and Cruent drew away, motioning for his Death Eaters to release Harry. Harry stumbled forward, green eyes darting between Draco's hunched form and Cruent's retreating back.

"Cruent!" Harry shouted, raising his wand and walking towards him, placing Draco at his back. "Turn and face me, you bloody coward."

Cruent paused and turned. A smile split his face nearly in two. "Coward?" Cruent laughed. Then his face fell, surprise sparking in his sunny eyes as they looked past him.

The point of a wand pressed between Harry's shoulder blades and Harry turned quickly, raising his wand at the opponent behind him. Shock went through his body like a gust of wind through an open window. Draco stood before him, wand pointed at Harry's throat, looking sad but determined, eyes dark and shadowy.

"Harry, I'm activating the Unbreakable Vow."

Harry dodged the green bolt of magic as it shot from Draco's wand. In the back of his mind, Harry was certain the curse wouldn't have actually hurt him all that badly and, as he rolled into a crouch and magicked Cruent's broom into his own grasp, Harry knew Draco really was just trying to activate the Vow.

What actually worried Harry and had his mind racing furiously, as he mounted the broom and lit into the air, followed closely behind by Draco and his damned spell-casting, was that Draco's eyes had changed when he first attacked him. Harry knew that when Maul got a hold of Draco, his eyes darkened; and though Draco's eyes had yet to turn that awful, pitless black, this turn of events could easily weaken and distract Draco enough for Maul to push back into his body.

Harry raised the Shield Charm--somehow stronger since he used it to save Draco in Wisconsin--and whirled his broom around, causing Draco to rear up, surprise twisting his sad, pointed features. "Draco! Enough!"

"Hold still," Draco whispered before casting a spell that made the magic of the Unbreakable Vow twist and burn inside of Harry's mind; but the Shield Charm deflected it and the Vow held its peace.

"Draco, listen to me--"

"No." Another spell. A blast of green against shimmering gold magic. Still, the Shield held.

"Draco--"

Another spell. The Shield held. "Draco, stop!" A bright yellow charm, the golden magic of the Shield dimmed, then brightened. And held.

Frustrated and despairing, Draco took hold of his broom and flew in dizzying circles around Harry, loosing a flurry of spells against the Shield Charm as Harry shouted back at him in vain. The Shield dimmed again; but, again, it continued to hold.

"Are you daft?!" Draco screamed coming to a halt before Harry. "You HAVE to kill me! You know that! Lower your Shield!"

Harry shook his head. "There has to be another way, Draco. I won't--"

"YOU HAVE TO!!!" Draco roared, suddenly clutching at his hair and tucking his chin into his chest. "I see faces, all these faces, Harry. And, I swear, I want to kill every single one of them. I want to hurt people, do horrible things. This demon inside of me is getting stronger! You can't let him out, Harry. You HAVE to kill me before he does terrible things wearing *my* face, with *my* hands!"

"I will, Draco," Harry responded evenly, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. "But it hasn't come to that, not yet. If it does; I have sworn it. But it doesn't have to be now."

Draco screamed in frustration, his silver eyes bulging, and let loose another volley of spells, curses that would actually harm Harry severely if his Shield Charm wasn't protecting him so valiantly. The curses began to ricocheted off of the Shield, flying past the crazed Malfoy in an erratic display. Harry's heart jumped into his throat when a red bolted curse flew dangerously close to Draco's left ear and singed the skin there. Draco didn't even flinch and continued to scream curses at Harry until the young Auror lunged through his own Shield Charm and bodily knocked Draco off of his broom. One, two, three punches to Draco's face and Harry twisted the possessed Slytherin's arms behind his back as Harry managed their descent with his knees. Draco struggled against him the entire way and, even when they landed and Harry shoved him to the ground, Draco attacked. Harry pushed him away angrily.

The rage that bubbled up from Harry's core so suddenly seemed to engulf him entirely and he shook with it. "I cannot believe you would ask this thing of me," Harry growled, his green eyes spitting fire. "After everything, you would rather force me to kill you than work with me to find another way."

The sound of shouting Death Eaters and their Gatherer rumbled in the distance like thunder.

"Harry--"

"No, shut up." Harry grasped Draco's shirt collar and forced him to his feet with it. "I am not just a memory, Malfoy! I am a real person with real feelings and this thing you want of me, this last resort you manipulated me into would tear me to pieces. If you cared about me at all you would know that."

"There are bigger things at work here than you and me, Potter!"

A scream of laughter shot through the gray dawn like lightning. An answering shout. Maul's army was getting closer.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Maybe not."

Draco tossed his head with a roll of his eyes. "This is no time to be romantic--"

A fourth punch to Draco's face silenced him immediately. Harry released Draco's shirt collar, stunned when he realized he may have over done it. Draco crumpled to the ground in a dazed heap, blood pouring from his mouth and nose and nasty bruises blooming along his eye and jaw.

"The connection of the Horcrux scar," Harry whispered as he watched Draco wipe blood from his mouth, "is something we can use against this thing. It's what brought us together and what warned me tonight. We might have a weapon--"

"Harry." One word, said that way, from *him*. Nothing could stop his heart and his train of thought like the way Draco said his name. Harry watched Draco get his feet under him and stand. Harry watched helplessly as Draco walked towards him, that terrible, sad expression on his pale face breaking Harry's heart. And Harry watched as Draco raised his wand and pressed it against his throat. Harry did not raise his wand.

The shouting grew closer. "There they are!" someone shouted. The sound of running footsteps.

"Harry," Draco whispered. "Please. Please raise your wand."

He couldn't. Unbreakable Vow be damned, Harry couldn't do it. Draco would have to kill him first.

Black shrouded Death Eaters could be seen only a few yards away from them, the Gatherer strolling lazily behind them all.

Draco's eyes welled in frustration. "RAISE YOUR WAND!" he screamed.

Harry shook his head and spread his hands wide. "I won't."

"Harry!" The young Auror's name caught in his throat.

"No."

The cold chill of the impending dawn seemed to thicken as the Death Eaters came so close, one could see their evil grins.

"What I'll become if you don't is so much worse than you killing me," Draco all but sobbed. "Please!"

"We'll get through this another way," Harry whispered, his eyes full of that terrible kindness Dumbledore had looked at Draco with when the Headmaster explained that he wasn't a killer. Despite it all, he wasn't a killer. "Narcissa Malfoy, a martyr to your soul. And you, to mine. You know I can't do this thing. There must be another way."

Draco choked on another sob trying to escape his throat as he heard his own words coming back to haunt him. And, like before, Draco was defeated by his own conscience. He felt it as his arm became unbearably heavy and lowered, seemingly of its own accord. Deja vu swamped at him and the only thing that kept him on his feet was the thought of whether or not a person could play martyr twice in one life. Draco didn't think so. He lowered his wand and stepped into Harry's embrace.

The Death Eaters descended upon them like a furious black cloud and Harry held Draco close. But any fel blow that may have come never did. Frightened shouts shook the air and a battle crashed around them. Harry raised his eyes and sucked in a breath at what he saw. Aurors, led by one Severus Snape, engaged the Death Eaters, wizard to wizard, as the brilliance of the rising sun washed them all in a bright orange-yellow glow. Pan and Hedwig circled above the battle, crying out when they spotted their masters among the fray. A blur of ginger and Ron was in front of them, looking flushed and relieved to see the pair alive. Ron grasped Harry's robes and led them away from the battle, expertly ducking curses and counter-curses alike.

"How did you find us?" Harry shouted over the din, using his body to protect the young Malfoy as they moved.

"Snape showed up at the Ministry with Zabini and your owls," Ron shouted back. "After the way you shot off, quite a few of us were willing to believe something was wrong. Stay here." Ron pointed to a nearby Weeping Willow and began heading back into the engagement with the surrounded Death Eaters.

"Ron--" Harry shouted when Draco exclaimed: "Zabini?"

"I'll tell you all about it when I get back!" Ron shouted over his shoulder before disappearing from sight.

Harry and Draco stared at one another in dumbfounded disbelief before a grin fit to split Harry's face erupted and was answered by a small smile of Draco's own. A small smile that completely vanished when another figure approached them.

"How perfectly adorable," the Gatherer snarled behind them. "Your little masochistic back up plan didn't work, Malfoy? Undone by your own conscience? Pathetic."

Draco straightened, his grey eyes flashing angry silver, and curled his fingers into fists. Harry pointedly pushed Draco behind him and stood between the young Malfoy and Cruent, his once-lover. Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek and was surprised by the the thought that this whole scenario seemed to come straight out of one of those awful soap operas his Aunt Petunia used to watch. Harry squared his shoulders; nevertheless, he somehow created this, he usually did, right? And it was his job to fix it.

"Cruent, I'm sorry things didn't work out between--"

A deep, unfettered shout of laughter exploded from Cruent, his sunny eyes looking manic and wild. Doubling over in his crazed mirth, Cruent slapped his thigh and gasped. "You think I sold my soul to Maul because of a broken heart?" Cruent exclaimed incredulously, his grin wide and crooked. "You think I was so besotted with you that I somehow found out you were more than professionally involved with the Malfoy case and wanted Maul to wear the face of that snobby prick so I could have you forever? You think I'm some victim of unrequited love?" Another shout of laughter shook Cruent’s body and Harry felt his cheeks redden. Harry glanced back at Draco but he was looking at Cruent with a curious expression...like the way a cat ponders a string before it paws at it.

"Really, Harry, I always knew you were hopeless, but Merlin!" Cruent straightened and withdrew his wand . "I slept with you so I could get closer to Malfoy. Things really can be that simple."

Harry stiffened, his mind going blank. Harry watched Cruent raise his wand and point it at Harry's chest, thoughts, too quick and fleeting to comprehend, rushed through his brain, a strange painful feeling squeezing his heart, and the image of Ginny's smiling face was all he could think of. It never even occurred to him to raise his own wand in defense. Harry watched Cruent's mouth shape words and burst of color exploded from the tip of his wand. Birch and holly, with a hint of mint root. That was what made up Cruent's wand. The only other person Harry knew of that had mint root in the make up of their wand was Ginny. Stupid. Harry felt stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Ginny.

Cruent.

Draco!

Suddenly, Harry found himself sprawled on the ground where Draco had shoved him; out of the way and feeling very, very stupid. And Draco...Draco was engaged in a duel with Cruent, that beautiful wizard dance of battle that made spectators breathless to watch. Harry got to his feet and fumbled for his wand, watching out of the corner of his eye as ragged--but alive--Aurors made their way towards the spectacle to watch, all Death Eaters accounted for, dead or detained.

A gasp rippled throughout the crowd when Draco injured Cruent with a Dark Curse of black magic that had small biting serpents crawling from every orifice of the Gatherer's body. Cruent screamed and writhed, the little green snakes drawing blood with their sharp fangs and spreading venom in tiny, torturous increments. Draco approached Cruent's convulsing body, a pitiless expression in his cold, grey eyes, and kicked away Cruent’s wand. Draco continued to stand over Cruent, watching the Gatherer of Darkness go mad with pain.

Somehow, Ron made it to Harry's shoulder. "What's he doing, mate?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"He's torturing him," Harry whispered, surprised at the sound of his own voice. Shaking himself, Harry stepped forward and raised his voice. "Draco Malfoy! That's enough!"

Draco glanced back at Harry over his shoulder before turning once again to Cruent. "It is my body. And you were going to let him have it." Without warning, Draco raised his wand again and shouted the Killing Curse. "Avada Kedavra!" Then, he tucked his wand back in his sleeve and left in his wake the dead body of Cruent Mantle.

Harry stared open-mouthed at the corpse, seemingly frozen in time. A Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Hufflepuff Graduate, Eve War survivor, friend, lover, and Gatherer of unspeakable Darkness, first ally to Maul the Black Tulpa, traitor, enemy, Cruent Mantle. Smote by Maul's Host. Draco Malfoy.

Black poetry. Bad faith.

"Turn away, Harry," Draco murmured somewhere near his shoulder.

They weren't Hogwarts students anymore, no one was fully innocent. There were no children here fighting a war against darkness. Not like the last time. This was worse.

Harry turned away.

~*~

Severus Snape and Blaise Zabini stood side by side and watched the Aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley Disapparate Draco Malfoy to Ministry of Magic from a distance. Hard at work, the remaining Aurors steadily combed and cleaned the area surrounding them. Zabini and Snape exchanged a long look.

“That was awfully close,” Blaise said, unusually somber.

Snape nodded.

“Back to the Ministry, then?”

Snape nodded again, eyes dark and thoughtful. “I don’t think Scrimgeour is going to like what he is about to hear.”

Blaise shoved his hands in his pockets. “Neither is Draco, I don’t think.”

Severus regarded his godson’s closest friend. “Draco is no fool. I’m sure nothing the Minister will throw at him will surprise him. It’s Potter I’m concerned about.”

“It would be worse if Potter was taken off this case.”

“More than you can imagine.”

Blaise rubbed at his eyes blearily and shook out a yawn. “Well, then. Shall we?”

Severus nodded and Dispparated.

Blaise grinned, and did the same.

~*~

a/n:

thrnbrooke: There you go! Hope you enjoyed. Thanx for your review.



Mangacat: lol, sorry about the crazy cliffhanger; I'm glad you enjoyed that last update! I hope you enjoy its conclusion as much. Um, sorry the Gatherer's unveiling wasn't very powerful for you. Cruent Mantle wasn't the Social Worker...and the Social worker wasn't a Death Eater. Well, not technically. Deans is just a bad dude and worked *for* the Gatherer. I like him, though, and will use him alot in the third arch. Cruent Mantle was Harry's ex boyfriend. Sorry you got confused. Must be a reflection on my part. Anyhoo, it's rad that you're already guessing on how this whole thing is going to burn out. I'd love to hear your ideas! Thanx for reviewing!



eto: *blinks* Two days straight? Wow! Thanks for your uplifting review and I hope you enjoyed the update!



mariahs_fantasy: Did you watch that interview with Dan and Conan O'Brian where Dan is saying how this passed out drunk guy looks up, points at Dan while he's walking by, exclaims "Harry Potter!" and passes out again? Christ, that was funny.

I'm glad you enjoyed the update! I hope you like its conclusion as much. Next chapter will begin the third and final arch. You know what? You did ask me that before. So sorry. Um, it won't be more than sixty chapters altogether. 1st arch was twenty, 2nd arch was hammered out in less...I think about 17 or 18 chapters, and the third arch will probably be about the same. It concludes with the end of the third arch. So...you may have about 20 more chapters of this story. I'm still hammering out the outline. The outline for arch 2 got all weird on me and I began combining chapters and splitting others apart, so, really, they're only for reference.

I went on a little rant, didn't I? So sorry. Erm, I hope that answers your question. Thanks so much for your wonderful review!



Soria: Well, thank you! *puffs out chest* And so are you!



WarpedMinded: There you go! I'm glad you're stickin' it out, man! I hope you enjoy the update! Thank you for your awesome review!


ktz: Thank you! I hope you enjoy the update!