Kill you? Ginnys thoughts jolted with shock.
Kill me. You?re the Keys, the weapon. Destroy me if you have to.
Death would be better than where I am now.
Oh come on, Malfoy. You can do better than that, and this time it was Harry speaking, not that any of them were really speaking, but he felt the shape of Harrys thoughts in his head, wry and familiar.
Aren?t you even going to try?
Leave me alone, Draco replied wearily. Go…away.
You know, Malfoy, said Harry, sounding as if he had no inclination to go away and leave him alone, you?re a pretty good Quidditch player.
What? Whats your point, Potter?
Maybe you bought your way onto that team, but you?re a good Seeker, the best one I?ve ever played against. You make me watch my back. Nobody else ever has. I even like how determined you always are to beat me. I thought it meant you were a determined person. Strong. A worthy adversary.Not the type to just give up.
I?m not giving up.
Really? I?m sorry, I guess I was just confused by the part where you said 'I give up.?
Draco felt his stomach clench, and for a moment the dimness wavered crazily around him. Just kill me and end this right now, he groaned, turning his face away.
No. You know what they said. If anyone takes him down, its going to have to be you. If youdidn?t think you could do it, Malfoy, you should have said so before; if you knew you were going to be too weak and frightened and convinced that you don?t deserve any better than this.
He heard Ginny's voice again. You think this is what you are, but it isn?t.
Then, Harry cut in over her. Let me tell you something, Malfoy, theres no such thing as what you are. You want to believe it because it means you don?t have to make any choices. But there are always choices. Every second of your life you?re choosing to be one thing or the other. And thats what makes you who you are. So who are you, Malfoy?
Draco spoke out loud, and heard his voice come out in a whisper. 'I don?t know.'
Hermione sounded accusatory, no longer comfortable, no longer easy. You don?t know? Well, you better figure it out.
You can?t just give up. Harrys voice was harsh with desperation and with anger. I thought better of you than this. Even when you weren?t my friend, you were at least a worthy enemy. And now what? You?re just going to let him control you and break you and not even try to fight it off? Whats happened to you? When did you get to be such a coward?
Dracos eyes flew open, and he stared down the narrowing tunnel of light and darkness. Something inside him swelled unbearably. He couldn?t put a finger on what it was exactly, but heard his own breath in his ears, ragged with effort — felt his heart racing inside his chest —
I?m not a coward, he said.
Aren?t you? If it was me, I?d fight. But I guess thats just me. I?ve always had to fight for everything. I?m not some spoiled little rich boy whos had everything handed to him on a plate. You never had to get by on any merit of your own. I guess thats why you?re so spineless.
This was so monstrously unfair that it actually broke through the gray fog in Dracos brain. Spoiled? He could hear the rage in his own mental voice. You goddamn know better than that, Potter. If you said that to my face, you know I?d break your fingers.
Would you? There was half-suppressed laughter in Harrys voice.
Trust Harry to be laughing at a time like this. You always did talk a good game, Malfoy.
Go to Hell, Potter, he said, furious.
And funnily enough, thats exactly where I?m headed in about five minutes if you don?t break through this thing. And you?ll be the one who sends me there. Hows that for irony?
Draco felt his stomach clench, and he saw through the darkness — as if through a crack in glass — the room he had just left, the wizard standing above the pentagram, Hermione and Ginny tied to their posts, and himself in front of Harry, undoing the last ropes that held Harrys right hand to the post behind him. Hermiones face was full of desperate concern as she looked at Draco, and so was Ginnys, her eyes huge and dark and searching, and he knew they were hearing every word he and Harry were saying. And Harry had his face tilted up, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he could somehow find Draco, wherever he was, and there was anger in his face, and a sort of desperation, and everything Draco himself was feeling as if he looked into a mirror.
Draco closed his eyes, the faces of his friends printed blindingly against his inner lids, and the something that had been growing inside him blazed up suddenly behind his eyes like a white pillar of fire. It was fury. Fury at Slytherin for imagining, for presuming, that he could control him through his own guilt, his all-too-human pain.
He was Draco Malfoy and he would not be controlled, he would not be owned, and he would not be trapped against his will.
There was a shattering noise. The invisible puppet strings that had controlled him snapped, and he felt himself falling, hurtling really, through a great empty inner space. Something struck him, hard, and he opened his eyes. He realized knew that what he had felt was his soul hurtling back into his body. He was standing directly in front of Harry, who was looking at him out of steady, dark green eyes. There was no fear in them at all, and as Draco returned to himself he heard Harrys voice in his head, clear and strong:
Welcome back, Malfoy. I knew you could do it.
Hermione and Ginny on either side of Harry were looking at him as well, and there was equal satisfaction in their faces. He felt the emotion that surged forward from all three of them, amplified by the power of the Keys, all four of them together, the Heirs, as they had always been meant to be. And he understood that that, coupled with his own anger, was what had torn him free of the spell that bound him, and understood as well exactly what he
