Chapter 11: Lies of Omission

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He's alive. At least he's alive. Darkness had fallen, and under the forest canopy the night was thick and stifling, with a clammy sort of coldness that oozed through clothing and flesh. In the center of the small clearing, Harry sat with Draco's head cradled in his lap. He had enlarged Draco's cloak and tucked it carefully around Draco, then pulled the rest of it up and over his own shoulders. Although he knew it was foolish and naïve, it was comforting to imagine that the cloak actually afforded them some sort of protection from anything that might be lurking in the shadows, even though it could barely keep out the chill. The few stars that had been visible through the treetops had faded away, one by one, as clouds rolled across the sky. If he hadn't known any better, Harry could almost have let himself believe that the cloudy night was yet another of Voldemort's tricks to make them miserable, but not even Voldemort could control the weather. Could he?

Harry glanced down towards Draco compulsively, not that he could see anything through the darkness. The sound of even breathing seemed to indicate that Draco was still sleeping peacefully. At any rate, Draco didn't appear to be in any pain, which was a small consolation. Harry had thought he'd known just how big a risk Draco had taken by pulling Harry from the dungeons. He'd known the kind of destruction Voldemort could cause; he had seen it firsthand. Now, he silently cursed himself for not expecting this. If Voldemort had invaded Harry's own mind, it would have been different. That had happened before. He had never bothered to consider that Voldemort might be able to use Legilimency on someone else. As usual, he had assumed that he was a special case.

I am so stupid. Dumbledore had said Voldemort was a powerful Legilimens, but only now was Harry beginning to understand the scope of such power. It appeared that if you could control a person's mind, you could also control his body. Thankfully, Draco had seemingly been released from whatever nightmare Voldemort had been inflicting. He was breathing evenly, his heart was beating a strong rhythm, and he was alive. But he wasn't moving. And he wouldn't wake up.

Nothing he did seemed to be able to rouse Draco, so Harry tried to tell himself it was just exhaustion, and that once Draco had slept enough, he'd awaken refreshed and as obnoxious as ever. Logic told him that, considering the level of control Voldemort seemed to have, if he wanted Draco dead, Draco would already be dead. No, Voldemort wanted something else. He wants me, Harry thought bleakly. As if I didn't already know that. But now he's going to use Draco to get me. He reached down and pulled the cloak tighter around Draco's unconscious form, comforting himself with the protective gesture. His hand brushed against the chain of the Mislocator, which reminded him of the fact that the only thing between himself and Voldemort was Draco Malfoy. Not a very reassuring thought. Could Draco possibly understand that he'd just stuck himself in the middle of the deadliest rivalry in the wizarding world? He probably has a hunch now.

Harry sighed deeply and leaned back against the tree behind him. He'd lost track of how long he had sat there, just like he'd lost all feeling in his legs. Still, the weight against his lap and the steady rhythm of Draco's breathing were strangely comforting. And for now, he'd take comfort where he could. Compulsively, Harry adjusted Draco's cloak again, tucking it around his own legs and up to Draco's chin. The night wore on, and Harry felt himself drift in and out of sleep as his own fatigue pulled at him. Not even the buzz of insects broke the perfect silence, and there was no light to give his eyes some relief. For a moment, he thought his eyes were tricking him when he woke up from a doze to see the faintest outline of trees through the darkness, the first hint of dawn. He picked a point – the crook of a nearby tree limb – and stared at it as though he could hurry the daylight by force of will. It was then that he felt Draco shift against his lap. Harry looked down hopefully at Draco's pale features, which just barely stood out against the darkness. After a moment's pause, he gave Draco a light shake. "Hey... you awake?"

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