March 2, 1991

One Month Later

After weeks of searching in books, pouring over old scrolls that he wondered just how Granger got her hands on them. Weeks of whining and dealing with a slowly healing Potter – himself as well he supposed – though Potter’s wellness was kept in the safe confines of Professor Snape’s quarters. Draco often wondered what would happen if he was thrust back into the snake pit.

Their search for the Philosopher’s stone was going nowhere. Until, surprisingly, the most important information came from the back of old dusty, rotting book and a Chocolate frog card.

Draco had wanted to scream. Potter was exhausted. And Granger was in euphoria with her nasty book.

Yet, despite everything they had learned – most of it he knew already not that he would tell Potter or Granger – he still couldn’t understand why they stood there of all places. They had all become Hogwart’s outcasts, definitely Potter more than himself or Granger for sure, not himself for all the Oblivious curses Snape cast on the Slytherin first years.

Just because they had become a team, in the weakest sense of the word, that was no reason to walk unaided into a death trap. And especially, just because Granger said so.

He could hear sounds coming from inside, past the black spindling trees. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. His hand was even slipping a bit from his cane. Even more alarming was the slight trembles that rocked his body.

Fighting against the fear in his voice, he asked, “Again, why are we going into the Forbidden Forest?”

Harry shook his head at his new pseudo-friend and Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco really wished they’d get stuck that way.

“Because unicorns are being killed.” Hermione replied snippily, and then she stuck her nose in the air. “Hagrid said so.”

Draco certainly wasn’t convinced. So he turned to Granger, scowling. “Perhaps, Hagrid is eating them like the giant half-breed burden he is.” Hermione glared at him in the dark, but the shadows lessened the affect as she appeared to be frightened. He turned his head away from her. “And, again, what does that have to do with the Stone?”

“Mercy, Draco, do you read?”

“Of course, you twit!” he sneered, scowling at her for calling him ‘Draco’, as if they were the best of friends. He would not coerce with a muggleborn. He’d been raised not to. Of course, his upbringing would demand he kill Granger. He had obviously not done so within the past month.

“Draco, what are you so afraid of?” Harry asked, quietly, peering over his shoulder at him.

This past month was good for Potter, just as his mother predicted – being with friends, a new family and hidden away from his tormentors. Potter ate it up, but Draco was more concerned with what would happen once his vacation ended.

“There are spiders–” Hermione snickered at him and he glared back at her “–centaurs–” Then, something howled in the distance. Draco shivered. “–Werewolves!”

“Tonight’s not a full moon. You can relax.”

“Relax?! Are you mental, Granger! You will agree with me when a centaur puts an arrow through your skull!”

“Hush, both of you.”

“Finally glad to see you becoming assertive, Potter.” Draco snapped, looking into Potter’s calm eyes. No person could change this much in a month. “However, now is a bloody bad time! Surely, surely you’ll pick my side, right, Potter?”

“Harry!” Hermione screeched under her breath

“Potter.” Draco smirked.

Harry sighed and marched past the trees. Draco winced – I liked him better when he a persecuted little whelp – then yelped as Hermione took his arm and began to drag him in toward the forest. His weak feet tried to keep up with his torso.

“Granger!” he said, after a large root shook his legs.

“Come on, you big baby!”

“Seems I’m being forced to, you frizzy-haired fruitcake!”

Neither saw Harry’s smile.

***

It was delicious, soothing. Feeling the creature dying by his teeth, drinking in life, it was wonderful feeling.

But despite all this, he cursed this ghostly shell he existed in. All because of child, a mere infant. Perhaps, the boy’s mother had done something before she died at his hand. But she had only faced him and he killed her just as she turned away.

No time to create a protective spell of that magnitude. He doubted they even existed.

And no mudblood, certainly, could create any shield to stop the Killing Curse. The feat was far above her. Silly piece of filth. He only wished he had had the time to play with her but the brat was the most demanding issue at hand.

Cursed boy.

Suddenly, low voices reached him. At first he counted them as Centaurs and hurried to finish his beastly meal. But he perked up as the voices came clearer. Looking up, smiling wickedly in the direction they were in. He stayed in position.

Children… Surely, he would finally get to play.

“Granger, I’m not an invalid! I can make it on my own!” A boy’s voice, eloquent lessons perhaps. Most likely Pureblood Aristocracy.

“You’re still weak!” a little snappish, more likely a mudblood that did not go by the rules – not that they ever did go by the rules of the Aristocracy. He decided her foolishness would get her killed in later years, not obeying her superiors.

“I believe that’s what the cane is for, Hermione.” Another child, a low soft voice, not the tone of a pureblood but he seemed refined enough, calmer than his companions. A young Gryffindor perhaps… or a half-blood Slytherin even…

Then, he sniffed the air and something made his heart – if it even existed that is – grow cold. It was the same sickeningly metallic smell he had smelt nearly eleven years ago.

The day he stepped forward into baby Harry Potter’s nursery, that smell was unique to the child. But only the most powerful of wizards and witches could smell it. He had no doubt that Dumbledore possessed the ability. He had apparently done a fine job of hiding it.

And where was Severus in all this? He wondered. Was the mudblood wench a tasty treat or the vermin that led you from my side…?

He looked up as their voices drew closer. Harry Potter, what are you doing out with your little friends? Away from the safety of the castle… From your supposed father…?Did you feel me here, you lucky brat…?

Just as they topped the hill, the dark-haired child feel to his knees, writhing in pain, clutching his forehead. The others screamed at him and the girl fell beside him. Mumbles. Sobs. And then the child looked up at him with green eyes he would never forget.

“Potter…” he purred gliding toward the boy.

The weak child with a cane held up his wand but the boy was shaking and leaning heavily on his crutch. The light hair and the face were undeniable.

“What do you intend to cast, young Malfoy.” Draco stared at him with wide eyes, a small bit of fear in his gray eyes. “Flowers, perhaps…?” He laughed breathily at this. “Or did you come to sacrifice your friends to me…?” He laughed again. “What a gift, Draco… that you bring me a filthy mudblood and the Boy Who Lived.”

Draco began to shiver violently, and blood began to trickle from his nose. The bushy haired girl stood up and grabbed him bringing him down beside Potter. She held him on her lap like a baby and quickly administered what looked like sludge into the boy’s mouth.

All the face that could be seen from under the hood of the Dark Lord was a malicious grin of wicked happiness.

Suddenly, Harry sprung up and held his wand in the monster’s face. Voldemort leaned back in surprise before twirling around the boy’s body, laughing as Harry jerked around wildly. He stood his ground and his striking emerald eyes, jerked wildly, standing out in a pale sunken face.

His mother’s eyes…

“My dear boy, you look different than what I imagined. Certainly not a shadow of James Potter in you… Perhaps, saintly Lily Potter was not as saintly as they say.”

“Do not talk about my Mum!” Harry erupted. Draco and Hermione watched him with suprise in their eyes as this had been the first time they ever heard Harry raise his voice above a whisper.

“Ah, but child, don’t you want to bring her back to you? I have that power…. Join me. Be my heir and you will have the family you’ve dreamed of.”

Harry looked unsure, gazing down at Hermione and Draco. He stared into Draco’s eyes for a long time before Draco whispered softly, “No spell can awaken the dead, Potter…”

Voldemort swept up into the child’s face. Harry jumped but kept his stance. “No!” the Dark Lord screamed, then responded gently to his outburst. “No, the boy is lying. With the stone, we can bring her back.”

“Harry,” Draco whispered. “Trust me…”

Harry stared at the monster’s still form and suddenly, his scar split open, blood pouring down his face. A shining white light surrounded him, pouring not just from his wand but his entire body. He barely registered the monster’s flee into the trees, or the hoof prints pounding the dirt, coming toward them. He thought he heard Hermione scream and looking up he saw her, his mother, standing in the light.

“Mum…” he whispered, yearning for her to be real, to hug him, to kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be okay, but she began to fade away.

He cried out to her, reaching for her disappearing ghostly form and fell to the ground.

“Harry!” Hermione screamed his name.

And then, the pounding got louder and he heard Draco screaming in pain, felt Hermione’s fingernails digging into his arm.

Then, darkness….

***

Hagrid was having a normal nightly round of the grounds before calling it a night. Fang lopped beside him, on the side farthest from the forest. It was no news to Hagrid that his dog was certainly not a beastly hero. However, he was the only family Hagrid had and he served his purpose, at least to his master.

The moon was nearly full but not quite. So they were safe for the night. Though, Hagrid was amused when the sounds of the forest reached his dog’s ears. Fang was an entertaining site, shaking with all his bulk.

But as Hagrid cast a glance at Fang he seemed different, sniffing the air with earnest and getting ahead of his master. Hagrid watched him confused and then, suddenly, Fang bolted into a run.

“Silly creature,” Hagrid mumbled, hurrying after him.

Once he reached the place his familiar had went, he stared down in shock. Three school bags sat in a pile and with his heart racing with fear, he swung his lantern over the soil leading to the trees. Three small tracks led into the forest, past the black trees, and straight past the darkness.

It occurred to him that he should alert the heads of houses, but he quickly unlatched one pack and pulled out a textbook, Standard Book of Spells, Year One.

With wide eyes he stared into the forest, before he bolted to his feet and running as fast as he could to his cabin. He needed to alarm Dumbledore. They needed to find those three foolish children before they became a meal to a ghostly creature.

***

“Granger… is he moving?” Draco asked quietly, ignoring the pounding sound coming, like demented thunder.

She shook her head, her tears falling on his face. Draco grimaced at this but said nothing. He heard a whistling as an arrow came over Hermione’s head and with a solid thunk on the tree behind her.

Looking up with wide, panicked brown eyes, she stared into the blackest of depths from within a scared face. Then her eyes trailed down his bow and to the body of horse that kept the man’s torso connected.

“Centaurs…” she whispered, half in awe and half in fear.

The scared one looked around as others filed in next to him. The creature looked at where his arrow had landed and then to Hermione. Leaning down, he whispered, “Next time, human, I will not miss.”

Hermione whimpered and clutched Draco’s hand, the other gripping Harry’s unresponsive one. Draco stared at her with an inquiring face before looking back the threatening black beast, sneering. The creature narrowed his eyes and reached for the dagger at his waist – if that was it was to be called, long and wicked looking as it was – only to be stopped by another of a lighter color, nearly as white as the corpse of the unicorn.

A tan centaur bounded forward, seeming a bit younger in his face and demeanor. On his handsome face was a wide, silly smile and a mad glint in his eye. “Look, Lacrosse, Dumbly’s little pets!”

The black one – Lacrossse – sneered back at Draco and then he turned to the one who had stopped him from attacking

“Firenze, now is not the time to play savior to three human brats who don’t know their place.”

“But sir,” said the lighter one – Firenze – “All three are innocents and is wounded.”

Hermione, feeling her courage, looked up into Firenze’s eyes. “Is he… alive?”

“Yes, the Boy Who Lived still lives.”

“The Boy Who Lived?!” erupted a roan-colored centaur from the back, in shock and amazement.

“That is a human problem and is no reason for them to live,” Lacrosse snarled brutishly, lunging with his dagger again but Firenze pushed him back with surprisingly more strength.

“Leave them in my care, sir,” Firenze said quietly. “I can return them safely to the castle and I’m sure they will not enter again.”

Lacrosse seemed to think about it before sheathing his knife. “If they enter our realm again, they will be dead.” He cast a sideways look at Firenze. “Dead – just as you will as well, my brother.”

Firenze nodded and smiled gently at the three. Hermione cast a small invisibility charm over them - no where near the strength it should have been had she been a fully trained witch. Hermione looked at Draco who nodded his head and she whimpered one last time before she left the boys behind. Firenze was there beside her, leading her safely from the trees and all the evil that accompanied it.

Draco now had enough strength to sit up on his own. He stared at Harry, who now appeared to be caught in the middle of a nightmare.

Draco sighed, not bothering to wake Harry, and said under his breath, “Just you and me, Potter.”

A loud screeching scream pierced the forest’s scuffling music. Draco shivered and hugged himself tighter. He didn’t have anyone to impress in the Forbidden Forest, after all.

***

“Headmaster! Headmaster!”

Dumbledore seemed calm at the screaming coming from outside his door. McGonagall was so startled that she jumped, spilling hot tea over her fingers. Wincing, she looked up as Hagrid came thundering in.

Dumbledore gave him a placid smile and promptly offered a lemon drop. McGonagall rolled her eyes at her superior and looked at the gamekeeper. “What is the matter, Hagrid?”

The half-giant stood still for a moment trying to catch his breath still. Finally, he talked even if he was bumbling over his words.

“Students – first years – forest – not allowed – could be killed!”

McGonagall’s face went pale and she looked over at Dumbledore. He leaned forward steepling his fingers to rest his chin upon them. “Are you saying, my boy, that three students are in the Forbidden Forest?”

“First-years?!” McGonagall screeched

“Screeching again, Minerva?” asked Severus dully, as he came from behind Hagrid. “You wanted to see me, Headmaster?”

“Yes, I did but now there appears to be more important matters at hand.” Severus raised a brow. “Three first years have entered the Forbidden Forest.”

Severus furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak, when a tiny little man in a nightcap and a girl with frizzy hair bigger than her own head ran in. McGonagall quickly lay down her tea and rushed to the girl, who almost tackled her, seeking comfort. The child was mumbling and sobbing. “Alive… alone… but what if… dead… only friend…”

Severus had grown cold at this and walking forward, jerked the child from his colleague. He looked down into Hermione Granger’s frightened, bloodshot eyes.

“Miss Granger,” he drawled, questioningly.

“I-I-I’m sorry sir… It was my idea… I shouldn’t have talked them into it,” she sobbed, leaning a little into Severus’ body. “Harry, help him…please.”

Severus immediately turned on his heel and rushed from the room. Dumbledore waved to Hagrid to follow him.

The only sound left in the room was the Granger girl’s sobbing.

***

Draco jumped as another howl reached his ears and clutched at Harry’s unresponsive form. He felt Harry jerk under his hand and he looked over at him. The boy was sweating profusely and tossing, turning in the dirt.

Then he began to speak.

In a voice not his own – the same one they had just encountered, the reason Potter was lying in a waking sleep

“I will win, Harry Potter. I will kill you,” purred the sickening voice from Harry’s innocent face.

Draco watched in horror as Harry’s eyes snapped open – bright green eyes transformed into bright red eyes. Draco’s breathing became rapid and he struggled with his weak body to get away. It was useless. He shivered violently as maniacal laughter erupted from Harry’s small body. Then, his head turned slowly to look at him.

“Even you, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco felt cold wrap around his heart and he let out a piercing scream.