I Beg Your Pardon, Potter?

Chapter 56

"This is wonderful," Dumbledore said once they had showed him the two horcruxes on Boxing Day morning. He clasped his hands in front of his face in delight, throwing his deadened hand into sharp relief. "Well done."

"How should we destroy them, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"However you like," Dumbledore said. "Hack them to bits with the Sword of Gryffindor; stab them with basilisk fangs; shoot them into the sun. It's your choice." Behind Dumbledore, Professor Snape, who had turned up about five minutes after the six of them had, rolled his eyes.

"Shoot them into the sun?" Draco asked. Dumbledore gave a small shrug.

"I don't see why that wouldn't work. The sun is even hotter than Fiendfyre and that has been rumored to destroy horcruxes."

"Before you ask," Snape said quickly. "You may not use Fiendfyre. It is far too dangerous." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted.

"Fine," he said. "Then I would like to hack that Cup to pieces with the sword of Gryffindor."

"You want to do it, Draco?" Snape asked. Draco trained his scowl on the black haired professor, his arms still crossed in front of him.

"Yes," he said firmly. He was very aware that every eye in the room was on him as he stepped forward. He knew that Snape thought that he was doing this for Harry, but in reality, he was doing it for himself. (And perhaps also Harry.) He didn't want to be a Death Eater and he didn't want Harry to die. (So perhaps quite a bit about Harry). But this was his choice that he was making, and he was very sure about it.

Draco picked up the Cup from where it sat on Dumbledore's desk and set it on the floor. Then he walked back and took the proffered sword. It was heavier than he would have anticipated. The ruby in the hilt must have been real, he mused.

He hefted it between his hands for a moment until he had a good grip on it, and then he brought it above his head, ready to bring it down on the Cup, but he faltered as a ghostly image rose out of it. It was a strange, distorted image of Harry, with Voldemort's fiery red eyes. Draco took an involuntary step back, the sword still held above his head.

The image of Harry began to speak in what Draco recognized as Voldemort's voice.

"I've seen your heart, Draco Malfoy, and it is mine."

"Smash it, Draco," the real Harry said. Draco glanced at him but then the ghostly image spoke and Draco was mesmerized again.

"I have seen your dreams and I have seen your fears. He will never truly love you." The Riddle-Harry's eyes flashed a brighter red for a moment and he tossed his hair, looking more bewitching and also more cruel than the real Harry ever had.

"Draco, that's not true," Harry said, desperation in his voice. "I do love you." Harry could not tell if Draco had heard him. He didn't move. His gaze was locked on Riddle-Harry and he wore an expression of horror on his face. Slowly, the sword drooped down behind his head as his grip slackened.

"He would prefer someone less complicated. Someone with whom he could be seen in public."

"No," Harry cried, his voice choked. "I want that someone to be you."

"Why would he want you? He could have anyone he wanted. You two will never last." Another figure, an indistinct man, rose from the cup and wound itself around Riddle-Harry, pulling him into a close embrace.

"Draco, don't listen to it," Harry said. "We will. Remember my Ehwaz vision? We got married and Merlin, we were so happy. Remember? What I told you? You get a Weasley jumper and everything." Draco's gaze shifted to Harry again and Harry tried to convey all of his feelings with his face - a skill which he admittedly did not have. "Just destroy it." Behind him, Riddle-Harry and his unknown companion's lips met.