Harry awoke with a start.

He promptly fell out of the bed, landing on the stone floor with an ungrateful thud, cracking his head on the leg of the bedside table as he went down. His head spun for a few moments as he lay there, in shock, pain ricochetting through his skull. He whimpered softly as he got to his hands and knees, peeking over the edge of the bed to see that the commotion hadn't woken Draco up. He was in a deep sleep, that much was for sure, and he deserved it.

Harry sighed, letting himself fall backwards onto his knees. He'd been having that dream for the past few nights now, walking down those lonely, dark corridors, the smell of rotting flesh filling his nostrils and making him cough. His stomach turned even at the thought of it. It seemed every time, the body lying in that bed became more and more rotted, more and more decrepit, skin sinking into bone, blood drying and turning black, the blond hair that had been cut off blowing away in the breeze of the open window.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he stood up. He tried to wipe them away with a hand but they only came back twice as hard, and he let out a sob that he stifled with a fist before seeing a door leading out of the room. He walked towards it, stepping outside into the dark corridor, leaning against the closed door.

His sobs echoed around the hall. He knew that body - he knew who it was, but how could he tell him? How could he tell Draco? He couldn't, he didn't want to make Draco sad. He didn't want to make Draco cry. So instead he cried.

"What are you crying about, boy?" A voice sounded from next to him. Harry jumped wildly, looking around for the source of the voice, but seeing only darkness. "Over here, you daft thing."

Harry turned, seeing that the voice came from one of those moving pictures. This one was of a woven tapestry - a man with white hair and one white eye sneered down at him. "What is so terrible to make you cry like that?"

"I-" Harry stuttered out, voice choked. "Something bad happened."

"What was it?"

"A dream," Harry murmured, sniffling miserably and wiping his soaked cheeks with a sleeve.

"A dream? Now, don't be silly, child. Dreams aren't necessarily reality," the white haired man replied, although his expression softened. "Now, get back to bed. It's very late."

Harry gave a tired nod. His sense of time had been thrown lately - constantly being alert and on the run did that. Nights were dangerous, so being awake was a must. Harry remembered so many nights were both were too scared to fall asleep, almost too tired to fall asleep, so instead they lay awake in silence. The days were hectic, trying to remain unseen and find a new shelter to stop that evening.

Harry wandered back into the room, glancing over to Draco. He was still asleep, having not even stirred slightly. His white blond hair was messy and shadowed his forehead, dark lashes spread across his cheeks, lips parted as he breathed slowly. He looked around the rest of the room through the dark, seeing it was a small and simple place.

Two beds, a rug, and a fireplace. A window was on either side of the hearth, showing only darkness from the night outside. He let himself fall down on the rug in front of the fireplace, stretching his legs out in front of him and taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. He released a shaky breath he hadn't realised he was holding in, feeling suddenly incredibly lost.

What was there to do now? They'd made it to safety, but for how long? Those men were ruthless, chasing them constantly, trying to murder both of them. Would this place really be enough to stop them in their tracks? Somehow Harry doubted it.

He stared into the dark hearth and narrowed his eyes, watching as a spark flew from the logs, before steadily spreading into a warm, crackling fire. It lit up the small circle around him, chasing away the dark, and yet the warmth did nothing to remove the chill that still lingered in his bones.

His thoughts kept drifting back to those men. He couldn't get it out of his head. What if they caught him? What if they murdered Draco and took him back to that place? Chained him, starved him, tortured him, again? Harry felt his eyes well up with tears again. He couldn't go back to that. He'd rather die than spend another moment of his life in a place like that without Draco.

But they wouldn't stop. They never did, the hunting never ended. They wouldn't stop trying to catch him unless he got rid of them, like he had with the others. Harry chewed on his lip. That man's face flashed in his mind. The snakelike man, with pale skin and red eyes. He was the leader, wasn't he? He controlled those men who'd come after him. So he was the one Harry had to get.

He was the one Harry had to kill.

He made his mind up in that split second. He had no moral battle about it, no second thoughts or hesitations. In order for him and Draco to live, that man had to die.

And so he would.

*

Harry had not gone back to bed for the rest of the night. He'd stayed awake, plotting, planning. In the end he decided it was a game of waiting. That man would chase them no matter where they went, that much was clear, so all he had to do was wait for the man to appear, and then he'd get him.

"Hey," Draco said softly, having only just awoken and noticed Harry was missing, after spotting him in front of the fireplace. "Are you okay?"

Harry looked over and nodded, giving a weak smile. Draco opened his mouth in a yawn and stretched, shaking himself lightly, trying to rid himself of the weariness in his bones. Light filtered in through the windows, and Draco could make out the quidditch pitch outside, the large goal posts and grandstands high in the sky. The thought of quidditch brought a sad smile to his lips, it was something he hadn't even realised he missed.

He turned away from the window and looked back towards Harry, who'd gone back to staring into the fireplace. Draco bit his lip, a pang of worry echoing through him. Harry needed sleep as much as he did, but he evidently hadn't gotten much. Trying to be quiet, he got out of bed and crept up behind Harry, the boy too entranced by the flames to notice him.

In one swift movement, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him backwards into his lap, kissing his face and laughing. Harry had yelled at first in shock, but soon dissolved into a fit of his own giggles, blushing. Draco smiled, seeing the light return to Harry's eyes, and leaned his chin on Harry's shoulder, the boy snuggling up against his chest. "Why were you up?"

"Bad dream, couldn't sleep," Harry said, lowering his head.

"You should have woken me up," Draco replied, unable to hide the worried tone in his voice.

"You need sleep," Harry said.

"So do you," Draco murmured, but Harry didn't respond. They sat in silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company and being close to each other. "Are you hungry? We should go and get some food."

Harry nodded, moving onto the floor to let Draco stand up, who moved over to the large closet in the corner. Draco opened it and peered inside - it seemed to be full of school uniforms. None were embroidered with any house markings or colours at all. Draco remembered noticing that his robes had changed after the feast during his first year - it was a sort of charm placed on the clothing to uniform itself to whichever house it's owner was in.

At least with these they could make their way around the school relatively unnoticed - hiding in plain sight. Draco would just have to make sure that none of the Slytherins recognized him, because no doubt they would report back to their parents. A dull pang of sadness echoed through his chest when he realized that both Pansy and Blaise would hand him and Harry over to the Dark Lord on a gleaming silver platter without a second thought. They were supposed to be his friends, but they never truly had been. Maybe he'd tricked himself into thinking they were, just a way of coping with the crushing loneliness that encompassed his life, but they weren't his friends. They were more like coworkers than anything.

Draco shook off these thoughts. There were other things he had to focus on now, things like Harry.

Draco took two sets of the robes from the closet, and pulled one around his shoulders, feeling oddly comforted by the familiar sensation of the black robes swishing around his feet. as soon as thy were settled the familiar green trimming appeared, but he felt somewhat shunned by it now. The house of Slytherin used to be something like a family to him in the beginning, but now, was more synonymous with darkness and pain. No one ever focused on the positive attributes Slytherin stood for, only the negative.

Harry was watching the green trimming with fascination, and when Draco helped him put on his set of robes, he stared down at himself expectantly, but the robes didn't change, remaining a dark midnight colour. He hadn't been sorted.

"Come on," Draco said, taking Harry's hand and walking towards the exit. Dumbledore was waiting for them.

*

The corridors were quiet - they were walking to the headmaster's office during the first class. It was only a short journey to Dumbledore's office, so neither were worried about walking into  someone who might recognize them.

Harry was still remaining close to Draco, but seemed brave enough to drift away every so often, giving shy waves at the portraits on the walls, looking down conjoining corridors, and waiting to see if stone statues moved. 

Finally they turned the corridor that Dumbledore's office was located in, the golden gargoyle coming into view. The sound of stone and metal grating against each other filled the corridor and Draco stared, stopping dead as the gargoyle turned to allow someone to step out of the passage.

Severus Snape strode out. His pointed features seemed oddly exhausted, eyebrows knitted together and his grey eyes dark. Draco didn't know why he couldn't moved, perhaps being faced with his godfather was both so terrifying and mind numbing that it had paralyzed him. Harry was peeking over his shoulder after Draco had shove Harry protectively behind him.

The dark haired man lifted his head and looked both ways down the corridor, as if nervous to be seen. He caught sight of the blond, who still hadn't moved, and his eyes widened. It was as if time stopped, Draco refusing to blink, searching Snape's eyes desperately for any sign of emotion. Were they in danger? Would he tell Lucius where they were? 

But all the potions master did was give a small, curt nod, and turned down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

The passage behind the gargoyle was still open, so Draco slipped inside with Harry hot on his heels, not sure what to make of the interaction with his godfather.