The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 43: Is She With You

Unknown Location. 2 years ago. Late December 1997.

It was snowing by the time Draco took over the watch at midnight. Harry's dreams were confused and disturbing: Nagini wove in and out of them, first through a gigantic, cracked ring, then through a wreath of Christmas roses. He woke repeatedly, panicky, convinced that somebody had called out to him in the distance, imagining that the wind whipping around the tent was footsteps or voices.

Finally, he got up in the darkness and joined Draco, who was huddled in the entrance to the tent reading. He walked over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, the snow was still falling thickly and he greeted with relief his suggestion of packing up early and moving on.

"We'll go somewhere more sheltered." Harry agreed, shivering as he pulled on a muggle hoodie over his T shirt.

"Yeah, okay." Draco nodded. "I kept thinking I could hear people moving outside. I even thought I saw somebody once or twice."

Harry paused in the act of pulling on a jumper and glanced at him silently, heart beating fast.

"I'm sure I imagined it," said Draco, looking nervous, "the snow in the dark, it plays tricks on your eyes ... we can Disapparate under the Invisibility Cloak if it worries you that much."

Half an hour later, with the tent packed, Harry wearing the Horcrux and Draco clutching his hand, they Disapparated. The usual tightness engulfed them; Harry's feet parted company with the snowy ground then slammed hard on to what felt like frozen earth covered with leaves.

"Where are we?" he asked, peering around at a fresh mass of trees as Draco opened the beaded bag and began tugging out tent poles.

"Goblin forest," he said. "Came here hunting for fairies, with my parents when I was little."

Here, too, snow lay on the trees all around and it was bitterly cold, but they were at least protected from the wind. They spent most of the day inside the tent, hands wrapped around each other in a warm embrace as they huddled for warmth around the useful bright blue flames that Draco was so adept at producing, and which could be scooped up and carried around in a jar. That afternoon fresh flakes drifted down upon them, so that even their sheltered clearing had a fresh dusting of powdery snow.

After two nights of little sleep, Harry's senses seemed more alert than usual. Their escape from Godric's Hollow had been so narrow that Voldemort seemed somehow closer than before, more threatening. As darkness drew in again, Harry refused Draco's offer to keep watch and told him to go to bed, giving him a kiss goodnight before taking his turn on keeping watch.

Harry moved an old cushion into the tent mouth and sat down, wearing all the sweaters he owned but, even so, still shivery. The darkness deepened with the passing hours until it was virtually impenetrable. Every tiny movement seemed magnified in the vastness of the forest. Harry knew that it must be full of living creatures, but he wished they would all remain still and silent so that he could separate their innocent scurrying and prowling from noises that might proclaim other, sinister, movements. He remembered the sound of a cloak slithering over dead leaves many years ago, and at once thought he heard it again before mentally shaking himself.

Their protective enchantments had worked for weeks; why should they break now? And yet he could not throw off the feeling that something was different tonight. Several times he jerked upright, his neck aching because he had fallen asleep, slumped at an awkward angle against the side of the tent. He had just held up a hand in front of his face to see whether he could make out his fingers when it happened.

A bright silver light appeared right ahead of him, moving through the trees. Whatever the source, it was moving soundlessly. The light seemed simply to drift towards him.