A/N: hey guys! Sorry about my absence. Things have been crazy. Hope you're all doing well, especially in the current pandemic situation. Remember to keep clean, wash your hands and follow the isolation/health standards in your city! Please be careful and be well!

"You're going to what?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes darkly.

Dumbledore's office was quiet that morning, apart from Draco's loud voice, which promptly woke up the portraits on the walls who groaned miserably at him. The magical trinkets whirred away silently, fluffy white clouds floating in the distance visible from one of the windows.

The headmaster himself sat on the other side of the desk. He looked tired - older than he had before, despite no one really knowing just how old he was. His face was shadowed, brows furrowed, lips sealed, completely serious.

"It's the only option, Draco. You and I both know your father and Voldemort will hunt you two to the ends of the earth and back again. Is that really what you want?"

Draco growled in anger. "Stop trying to manipulate me!" He hissed, slamming his fist onto the wooden desk, which made Harry, who was sitting next to him, flinch. "Stop trying to use Harry for your own stupid agenda, pretending you're being the good guy here!" He pointed a finger at the professor.

Dumbledore sighed, and removed his spectacles to rub his eyes, an action that seemed... oddly human for the almost ethereal man. "He is the most powerful wizard I've ever known," the man admitted quietly. "More than even myself. Harry's power doesn't come from the same place as the rest of us wizards. Ours is passed down from generation to generation - Harry's magic doesn't come from his blood. It comes from somewhere else entirely."

"What do you mean?" Draco snapped in response, staring protectively at Harry who was watching Dumbledore with a pensive look.

"Can't you feel it?" Dumbledore asked. "The magic in the air around him? You've witnessed how easily he wields his power. You know he's capable of this."

"Doesn't mean he should do it," Draco grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it, the boy beginning to look on edge.

"It may be the only way. His power is growing stronger too, Draco, and if he is to be defeated, Harry may be the only one who can match his power."

Draco shut his eyes tightly, remembering how terribly Harry's only meeting with Voldemort had gone. The smell and taste of blood had never left the dining room, and Draco had imagined he was eating pieces of that woman's corpse for months during dinner.

"No," he finally said, tone firm. "No, he's not doing it. I'm not letting him put himself in danger. Come on Harry, we're leaving." Draco got to his feet, pulling Harry up with him, who looked generally uncomfortable.

"Mr Malfoy, I urge you to reconsider. Please, talk it over with Harry. See what he thinks." Dumbledore's voice was the last thing Draco heard before he slammed the door shut and began walking down the staircase.

Draco was seeing red. How dare he? How dare he even pose that idea, after all they'd been through? After they'd been running for weeks, starving, unclean, sleeping on the streets, trying to escape people who were trying to kill them? Even more so, wasn't Dumbledore the most powerful wizard? Why didn't he go fight Voldemort instead? It wasn't Harry's job to be a sacrificial lamb so the rest of them could live, he deserved a life too, a life outside the one he'd been trapped in so far-

"Draco, Draco! Let go!" Pained crying cut through Draco's rambled thoughts, and he felt himself be thrown to the side. Pain and shock pushed through his body as he hit the stone wall, vision turning white as his head collided with it. He slumped down against the wall, legs suddenly unable to support his weight.

Hot tears of pain sprang to his eyes, but he refused to let them pass, blinking quickly, his vision swimming back into focus.

Harry was standing a few feet away, cradling his arm against his chest. His face was scrunched in pain, tears rolling down his cheeks as he cried hysterically, his sobs echoing through the empty hallways. Draco had never seen him in such a state, he was beginning to choke and cough through his crying.

A pang of horror struck Draco like a curse to the chest, it felt like someone had scooped out his chest cavity leaving only guilt and pain behind. "Harry, Harry I'm so sorry," Draco said quickly, staggering to his feet and using the wall for support. "I didn't mean to, Harry please," Draco took a step forward, and Harry suddenly went rigid, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he stared at Draco, still crying, but with a hand outstretched in a silent warning.

Draco wiped the tears out of his own eyes and retreated back to the wall. He took a few shaky breaths, the smarting pain in his head beginning to subside. "Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that," Draco began slowly, not making eye contact with the boy standing, ready to attack. "I was upset. Dumbledore wants you to fight Voldemort, and I don't want to see you get hurt because of him."

But he just got hurt because of you.

Draco winced, but continued. "I care about you so much, I-I love you, Harry. I can't imagine my life without you in it, I can't lose you to Voldemort."

Harry's sobs had slowed, so Draco dared to lift his gaze. Harry was still watching him, but his hand was lowered, starting to wipe at his eyes, his breathing slowing to a deep rattling. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Draco saw quiet forgiveness there that urged him forwards.

He pulled Harry into his arms, the other boy going limp in submission, Draco holding him so tightly - terrified to let go. Terrified to let go because in a split second, he could be gone. He was so dangerous, so unpredictable, but Draco couldn't bear to let him go. He buried his face in Harry's hair, holding back his tears. Harry didn't return his embrace, but nuzzled his head into Draco's chest.

They spent a few moments like that, clinging to each other in the dim morning light of one of the many halls of Hogwarts, both scared and thinking about the inevitable fate they would have to face.

Eventually Draco broke the hug, although he felt like he could stay like that forever, and lifted Harry's chin forcing their eyes to meet. His gaze had returned to cool and calm, despite the redness of his eyes. Draco ran a thumb over his cheeks, removing what dampness there was left.

"We need to take our mind off this, okay? It's no good thinking about it right now," Draco said softly. He paused for a few moments, thinking. "There's a town not far from here, we could go there for a little while?"

Harry gave a small nod, although he looked like he didn't feel he had much choice in the matter regardless of how he felt. Draco sighed, but tried to put it out of his mind. Like he'd said before, there was no point dwelling on it right now. Draco moved to take Harry's hand, but found the boy had put them in his pockets to avoid it. Ignoring the hurt aching through his chest, Draco put an arm around his waist instead, desperate to keep him close.

Harry didn't shake him off, and let him be.

*

The snowfall would be arriving early this year.

Draco lifted his head to the grey, clouded sky, a cold morning breeze tousling his hair and nipping at his nose. His dragon skin boots crunched on the gravel below his feet, Harry's steps utterly silent as they walked down the long trail to Hogsmeade, fog surrounding the fields on either side of them.

Draco released his hold on Harry for a few moments to take his long robes off, wrapping them around Harry's shoulders instead, braving the cold in only a button up and jeans. The cold was oddly calming, an icy numbness overtaking his fingers, lips turning blue, a cold barrier that dulled the feelings swirling inside of him. He caught Harry's soft smile out of the corner of his eye, and hid his own. Things were going to be okay.

Draco was beginning to look forward to Hogsmeade. He'd enjoyed the town thoroughly whilst at school, it provided a fresh change from the usual scenery Hogwarts provided. Honeydukes, with its sweet treats, and the Three Broomsticks, where all the students flooded for butterbeer. He remembered times spent here with Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, and frowned slightly, knowing those 'friends' would sell him out the moment they saw him.

Had his whole life been a lie? Fed ideas and philosophies from his tormenting father, pushed into every relationship he'd ever had, unable to make his own friends... despite being crowded by people most of the time, he'd always felt tragically lonely.

He felt a warm hand slip into his own, pulling him out of his thoughts, and smiled. He couldn't help it, Harry never failed to bring a smile to his face, one of the few people in this world that could.

The buildings of Hogsmeade began to come into view up ahead, still grey in the thick morning fog. The tall spires, twisting roofs, the beautiful fantasy nature of that town. A few silhouettes could be seen as they drew close, witches and wizards milling about through the fog.

Harry was looking around curiously as they reached the first few buildings in the town, the quill shop, a bookstore which Draco had guiltily frequented (it was known for its abundance in muggle literature), and a second hand school supplies store. It was all so familiar, he couldn't help but smile.

The townspeople paid them no notice - it wasn't uncommon for Hogwarts students to appear in the town. Two boys holding hands however wasn't so common, but luckily the fog and the quietness of the village allowed them to slip by unnoticed.

Harry's warm hand was the only protection Draco had from the frigid cold, the icy wind freezing his bare arms, making his cheeks go numb. He saw the sign to the Three Broomsticks and led Harry towards it - a butterbeer would be perfect to warm him up.

Just as they reached the doorway, Draco froze. A familiar voice rang in his ears, and he looked around, letting go of Harry's hand to whirl in the other direction. "Mum?" He whispered under his breath, furrowing his brow. Why would his mother be in Hogsmeade? Did that mean she was okay?

Help!

Draco began to panic, that was definitely his mothers voice. It was coming from down the road. He took off at a sprint, desperate to help his mother, wherever she was.

Harry stared after Draco, his breathing starting to quicken. Why had he ran away? Harry wrapped the robes tighter around himself and broke into a run as well, the wind whistling in his ears and blowing his hair back. He wasn't used to running long distances - his rib cage was beginning to ache under the pressure, his own hot breath fogging up his glasses, blurring his vision.

And all of a sudden, he was alone.

Draco was nowhere in sight, the townspeople were all gone, and the buildings had disappeared as well. The only thing in sight was a tall, old looking shack, that gave him chills down his spine. He dropped Draco's set of robes on the ground to take some weight off his shoulders, looking towards the building. Draco was in there, he knew it, but something was terribly, terribly wrong. He had to go in there, didn't he? He had to, for Draco's sake.

Harry steeled himself against the wind, jet black hair blown back. He took off his glasses, wiping the fog from them with his sleeve, and placed them back on his face. Palms open, ready to shoot a deadly bolt at anyone who dared cross him, he ventured towards the shack.