Missing

One week, four days, sixteen hours, three minutes, fifty-three seconds…

Fifty-four…

Fifty-five…

Fifty-six…

Fifty-seven…

Fifty-eight…

Fifty-nine…

Four minutes…

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

The seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days crawled by at a snail's pace and they still had not heard from or about Harry. Draco was going slowly—very slowly—mad. Was Harry okay? Was he safe? Was he hurt? Was he—

No.

Draco shook his head to banish the awful thoughts from his mind.

Draco crawled into bed—his and Harry's bed—and burrowed under the covers. The bed felt wrong now. It was too cold without Harry's warmth; too empty and scary without Harry's arms around him to chase away the terrifying nightmare that was reality.

It was so empty, and yet so suffocating.

Why did they have to take him away? Why did they have to take his Harry away? Harry was Draco's warmth, his light, his rock, his anchor, his sanity, and they took him.

Draco whimpered and curled in tighter around himself.

Why wouldn't they give his Harry back? Why would they do this?

***

"I want to know who 'they' are!"

Ronald Weasley was currently on a near rampage. Harry—his best friend, his brother—was missing and probably hurt or worse and the Ministry wouldn't tell him who had taken Harry so that Ron could get him back? He was second Head Auror for Merlin's sake!

Give him one more reason, and Ron was going to punch somebody.

"We're not entirely sure who—" Kingsley started.

"No, but you have an idea!" Ron said. "That means we have something! Who is it?"

"Ron," Kingsley said calmly. "We have this under control. You don't need to be here right now. We'll find Harry, don't you worry about that. What you need to do right now is go be with your family, with Hermione, with Draco—" Kingsley paused. "Where is Draco?"

Ron straightened, "He's with Hermione. She was afraid that he would do something rash."

"And she was right to think that," Kingsley nodded. "And she'll need help looking over Draco. He's obviously distraught. He needs friends right now."

"Malfoy and I aren't exactly friends," Ron grumbled. "I only put up with him because Harry loves him."

"Well then go be there for Hermione," Kingsley stressed. "She's just as distraught about Harry's disappearance as you and Draco are. She needs you."

Ron glared at Kingsley for a minute before shaking his head, "No. Harry's my brother. I'm going to find him before I go home. That's what Hermione needs me to do."

Kingsley closed his eyes and took a large, calming breath. "Fine," he said finally. "But you operate under my rules."

"Okay," Ron agreed easily. "Now, who took Harry?"

***

"Why'd you do it?"

Draco frowned in his sleep and tossed his head to the side.

"Why'd you do it, Draco?"

"Why'd you let them take me?"

"Why do you hate me?"

"No," Draco whimpered, tossing his head to the other side.

"Why don't you love me?"

Draco's eyes flew open and he gasped, relief and horror shooting through him.

Harry was standing over him, his emerald eyes dull and lifeless, his beautiful face pulled down into a grimace of pain. His white tee shirt was stained with dirt and blood.

Harry's blood.

"Harry," Draco breathed, sitting up. "W-what happened to you?"

"Why'd you do this to me, Draco?" Harry rasped. "Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you!" Draco gasped, standing and reaching out toward Harry, who recoiled, as if Draco had struck him. Draco yanked his hand back, shocked. "W-why do you think I don't love you?"

"You stabbed me," Harry's voice was growing weak and wobbly from the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks. "You let them take me and then you stabbed me. I thought you loved me! You told me you loved me! You promised you wouldn't hurt me! You promised! You broke your promise!"

"No!" Draco gasped, covering his ears with his hands. "I didn't stab you! I didn't stab you! I swear to God, I didn't stab you! I didn't break my promise! I didn't! I love you!"

"You promised," Harry whimpered, backing away. "You promised. Draco! Draco!"

"DRACO!"

"NO!"

Draco's eyes flew open and he sat straight up. Hermione was kneeling beside the couch, one hand on his shoulder, her eyes wide and panicked.

"It was just a nightmare, Draco," she whispered, reaching out to pull him into a hug. "It was just a nightmare."

Draco shrunk away from her hand. "Harry hates me," he whimpered. "He thinks I killed him. He thinks I broke my promise. I didn't break my promise! I didn't!"

"I know, Draco," Hermione whispered, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of the distressed boy. "I know you didn't. Harry knows you didn't, too. It was just a dream."

Draco's watery gaze met hers, "He hates me."

"No," Hermione shook her head, drawing the protesting boy into a hug. "No, Harry could never hate you. He loves you."

"Why did they take him, Hermione?" Draco whispered, his face pressed against her neck. "What did Harry do?"

"Nothing," Hermione answered, closing her eyes. "Harry did nothing. Whoever it is, they're just mean and jealous."

Draco closed his eyes and leaned tiredly against her.

When would it end?