'How's your imagination?'
'My what?'
'Your imagination. Can you imagine a happy memory? Make something up? A fantasy.'
'One of those things where I'm sitting on top of a pyramid wearing sun-god robes and being pampered by half-naked temple virgins?'
'If that makes you happy,' said Harry, looking dubious. 'May I remind you that we're going for happy here, Malfoy, not, er…'
'Right,' said Draco, opening his eyes and grinning. 'Happy. Okay.'
He screwed his eyes shut again, and concentrated. Harry watched the moonlight playing over Draco's face, making dark semicircles under his eyes, printing the shadow of leaves against his pale skin, and thought, he's going to be my brother. My brother. He willed it to seem real to him, but it didn't.
'Okay,' said Draco, opening his eyes. 'Got one.'
'Yeah?' said Harry curiously. 'What is it?'
'If I told you it involved Hermione, a string-quartet rendition of the theme music from 'Brigadoon', and a pair of luminous shorts, would you be angry?'
'Yes,' said Harry.
'So don't ask,' said Draco. He struggled to sit up straighter and without thinking, Harry held out his hand to assist him. Also without thinking, Draco took it, and let Harry help him into a sitting position. 'Okay,' he said. 'I'm ready. Let's try the spell.'
They practiced the Patronus spell for over an hour, until Draco could conjure up his 'happy memory' so clearly that it nearly seemed real to him, and Harry had begun stifling yawns with such frequency that Draco eventually began to feel rather guilty.
'Look, Potter,' he said. 'If you want to sleep for a little while, go ahead and sleep.'
'But the spell-'
'You're useless like this, anyway,' said Draco. 'You keep saying
'Expecto Patroooooooooonum.' He mimicked an enormous yawn.
'I don't need to sleep,' said Harry mulishly. 'I just want to lie down for a minute.'
'So lie down,' said Draco, and stifled a smile as Harry lay down, buried his face in his arms, and fell instantly asleep. Draco studied him for a moment, curious, and remembered the thin, gawky little boy he'd first met six years ago in the robe shop in Diagon Alley.
He'd looked at Harry, seen his raggedly cut hair and his taped glasses, and thought: charity student. He'd nearly dismissed him outright, but something had made him start up a conversation.
There was something about Harry that made you pay attention to him; Draco couldn't have put a finger on what it was, but knew somehow that it was this, this peculiar and indefinable quality, that he had always envied. Harry had it even when he was exhausted, even when he was asleep, and Draco thought with a relieved and sudden flicker that he no longer felt particularly envious of Harry in that way. It had passed and now, instead of hating Harry for possessing a quality that made people want to be around him, he wanted to be around him, too. He was happier when Harry was around — he felt stronger, better, a healthier, more content version of himself; when Harry wasn't there he felt snappish and irritable and as if he'd lost something important. He had no idea what that meant — perhaps it meant that he and Harry were becoming friends?
What a very strange thought.
He looked over at Harry again. Harry had shifted slightly, so that he lay on his side, and without really thinking about it, Draco reached over and tugged Harry's cloak up and over his shoulders, covering him against the cold night air. Harry shifted but did not wake up and with a sigh Draco drew his hand back, looked down at the sword in his lap, and then up again quickly. A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye had caught his attention. He glanced again at Harry, who lay still and unmoving, and then, with a feeling of distinct unease, turned and looked behind him.
Two red eyes, veined with yellow, stared at him out of the darkness.
Draco jumped violently, and a searing pain shot through his leg.
'Hello,' said the demon. Oh, God, Draco thought hopelessly as the demon moved closer. He looked around wildly, saw Harry still asleep, his arm thrown over his face.
That sword is evil and I don't want it near me, Malfoy. You're going to get one of us killed.
Draco looked back at the demon, which was staring at him out of whirling red eyes. I'll just…sit very still, he thought. Maybe it'll just think I can't be bothered to get up.
He cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't sound squeaky.
'You again,' he said. 'You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.'
'I have come for my other half,' replied the demon, looking at the sword in Draco's lap with something that looked unpleasantly like frustrated appetite.
'Now, I just had this feeling you were going to say that,' said Draco.
'For a thousand years I have sought it, over sea, under earth — '
'Yes, yes,' said Draco, the pain in his leg making him impatient.
'I've heard it all before. 'I've sought it for a thousand years, it's my other half, I'm a scary demon, gimme the sword, gimp boy.''
The demon's eyes gleamed. 'You grasp the essence of my mission.'
'Now correct me if I'm wrong,' said Draco. He held his left hand out in front of him, palm up, and Slytherin's sword leaped into his grasp and rested there with ease and precision. The demon's eyes widened. 'But I can kill anything with this sword, right?
Human…monster…' He jabbed the sword toward the demon, who skittered back. 'Demon…'
