A/N: Thank you to trappedinmyself1 and WillowBellatrix for the reviews! They are always appreciated.

Chapter Six: Yield

"I thought you said he would be awake by now," Harry said in a low voice that was more hiss than whisper. Draco was sprawled out over the sofa, one arm dangling off the side and his breathing slow and regular. The blonde had moaned and rolled around restlessly well through the night, Ordin keeping a watchful if not bored eye on him while Harry tried to get some rest in the spare room. His efforts weren't very prosperous, and he had only managed an hour or two of sleep through the disconcerting sounds coming from the sitting room.

"I said it would be many hours before he regained consciousness, boy. He's hardly been out for long enough to be of concern. I once had someone take nine days before they fully awoke from it," the older man said matter-of-factly, turned a page in his book, and didn't bother to look up to see the outraged expression Harry had given him.

"I have a hard time believing that you're as great of a mind healer as you say you are," Harry mumbled while pacing around the small room. His anxiety was creeping back up on him, and he couldn't help but think that even if Malfoy got through this in one piece, as soon as he had his memories back, the other boy would be in serious danger.

"Believe what you want, I have nothing to prove to a sixteen year old boy." He slammed the book shut and reached for another, larger book that was sitting in a pile next to him, still ignoring Harry's various stages of angry glares.

"How did you know Snape, anyway?" Harry asked, unsuccessfully trying to keep irritation from his voice.

"We were colleagues," the older man said gruffly. "Not beneath the Dark Lord, mind you," he said before Harry could utter anything accusatory. "I work independently, sometimes for people aligned with the Dark Lord, sometimes for people aligned with Dumbledore, and mostly for people that want nothing to do with this war. Snape was an excellent Potions Master, and his brews were highly valued for some of the work that I do. It's a shame he had to go and get himself killed, I was due for another shipment of Living Death next week."

The lack of compassion made Harry grit his teeth together, but Ordin just focused on his book, uncaring and oblivious to Harry's rising anger.

"Right," Harry said flatly. "Just call me when he wakes up."

Ordin waved him off and turned another page in his book. "My guess is that I won't have to, assuming the spell was successful."

Harry said nothing and shut the door to the spare room, grudgingly admitting to himself that the old bastard was probably right.

His mother scolding him after he'd broken the vase in the formal dining room...

Running through the barrier at King's Cross, his mind spinning with excitement for school...

Potter refusing his handshake...

His father instructing him on how to behave around the Dark Lord's followers...

He and Pansy sitting in the rose gardens, laughing when a dragonfly landed on his head...

Meeting Voldemort for the first time, and running into his room afterwards to throw up...

His mother crying as his father whispered to her last summer...

Piercing red eyes tearing through his gaze right into his mind, and they knew exactly what he had seen...

A scream ripped through Draco's chest before he could stop himself, and he clawed at the fabric on the sofa, positive that he was in serious danger. A tall slender man had appeared beside him to hold him down, urgently whispering something that he couldn't make out. His breathing came ragged and hard in his chest, and he finally was able to stop screaming. He struggled against the man holding him, kicking his legs as hard has he could and attempting to bite the man hovering over him.

"Draco," the man hissed. "I'm not here to harm you, damn it," Ordin hissed, exasperated, struggling to keep the blonde from kicking or biting him.

"How could I possibly know that?" Draco growled, and threw his head up in an attempt to slam his skull into Ordin's. The older man roughly slammed him back down into the sofa and climbed on top of him to pin him down, his deep blue eyes fierce and unyielding.

"I will not have you bruising me, boy," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Hold still."

Draco kicked one last time, and his body fell limp. Color washed over his face, and he glared at the man as fiercely as he could manage.

"Better," Ordin mumbled.

Harry had finally been woken up from his nap by the commotion in the sitting room, and he quickly ran out, looking over the scene with confusion.

"Malfoy?" he asked hesitantly as grey eyes locked with his, recognition and anger radiating from the gaze. Harry swallowed uncomfortably. It seemed the spell had worked, after all.

"Potter," Malfoy spat. "What a lovely surprise." He turned to look back at Ordin, who hadn't moved from his position on top of the blonde. "Would you kindly get the fuck off me?"

Ordin released Malfoy's wrists and climbed off of him, watching him warily as he smoothed out his robes. Harry felt his stomach drop further and further, realizing that the other boy had most likely regained all of his memories, and it couldn't be long before he ran off back to Voldemort. Malfoy had raised himself up to a sitting position and was alternating glares between Harry and Ordin.

"Well, the show's over, isn't it? You can both get the hell out of here now," he said, his voice growing hoarse.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Ordin said, and grabbed the stack of books sitting on the table. Shocked, Harry could do nothing more than stand there with his mouth open as the older man strode out the door without looking back. He was left staring at Malfoy, who had started shaking violently and couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"Uh, Malfoy?" he asked unsurely, quickly becoming worried at the other boy's actions.

"Fuck off, Potter," he said shakily, and his neck seemed to collapse under his head's weight, and he slumped over the arm of the sofa.

"You need to be seen by someone," Harry said, and walked a little closer to get a better view of the Slytherin. Sweat glistened across his forehead, and his eyes kept fluttering open and closed.

"I said fuck off," Malfoy said breathlessly, his eyes fluttering shut and staying that way. Harry muttered a curse under his breath and sat down in the armchair, unsure of what to do.

"I can't leave you here like this. You've got to get to a hospital."

"Merlin, Potter, do you ever just shut up?" Malfoy said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Get out. You don't need to be here."

Harry was beginning to get angry. "Apparently I do, since there's no one else here to look after you," he said through clenched teeth.

"I don't need anyone to bloody look after me, Potter. For fuck's sake, just leave me here. I don't want you here." His body suddenly went limp and his head lolled to the side.

"Malfoy?" When Harry received no response, he harshly shook the other boy. "Malfoy!"

The blonde didn't move, and Harry could feel himself panicking. What the hell was he supposed to do with him? He was still breathing, but with the way sweat was pouring down his face and how hard his heartbeat was pulsing in his neck, Harry was convinced that he wouldn't make it very long. Out of desperation, he went into the kitchen and rummaged through the shelves, hoping to find something that would help. He settled on a Calming Draught and ran back out into the sitting room. Malfoy was still sweating profusely, but he breathing seemed just a touch slower. Harry quickly poured the potion into Malfoy's throat, holding his lips shut and rubbing his neck as he'd seen Snape do to get him to swallow the potion. Thankfully, it seemed to take effect rather quickly and the blonde's heartbeat slowed. Sweat had stopped running down his face, and his breathing became more and more regular. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into the armchair.

"Damn it all," he muttered, pushing his fringe back from his eyes. He had no options left. If he couldn't figure out something quickly, he was going to have to go to Dumbledore. The thought of betraying his word left him cringing, but he could honestly say that he had no other choice. He would give Malfoy until the morning to wake up, and if things hadn't changed by then, he supposed that he would have to drag the Slytherin back to Hogwarts. He certainly wasn't about to wait around in this damp place forever.

Time seemed to drag by as he waited in the armchair. He had attempted to read a few times, but words seemed to blur together on the page and he couldn't keep his attention long enough to interpret what the book was trying to say. He'd taken to staring at a knot in the wood of the shelf. If he squinted, he found that it looked alarmingly like Professor Trelawney would had she bitten into a lemon.

A noise from the sofa pulled him abruptly out of his thoughts and he couldn't help but jump slightly. Malfoy had coughed, and was currently rubbing his forehead, his eyes still clamped tightly shut.

"Malfoy?" he asked, sitting forward on the armchair to get a better look.

The blonde rolled over and opened one eye. "Why the hell are you still here?"

Harry let out an angry huff, not really knowing what he'd expected when Malfoy woke up. "I told you already. I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Ever the Golden Boy, aren't we, Potter?" He tried to sound menacing, but the facade fell flat on the floor as he coughed and struggled to catch his breath. Harry felt something like pity tighten in his chest for a brief moment.

"Listen, you're here because you didn't want to be on Voldemort's side anymore. It's kind of my job to make sure the people fighting against him don't die. I'm not doing this because I want to, Malfoy. I'm doing it because I'm the only one that bloody can right now."

The blonde hacked again. "How do you know that I've chosen not to follow the Dark Lord, Potter?" he drawled.

Harry scoffed. "You wouldn't be here if you were still on their side."

Malfoy sneered and shut his eyes again, refusing to admit that Harry was right.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Harry finally said, the silence unnerving him. To his surprise, Malfoy made a sound almost like a laugh, but it quickly dissolved into more coughing.

"Of course I do, as long as I don't have any particular want to stay alive." He threw another glare at Harry for good measure, and rolled over so he wasn't facing him. "I'm going to sleep. I don't want you here when I wake up."

Harry slammed his foot down in anger. "Damn it, Malfoy! I'm trying to help you! Why can't you take a break from being a bastard for two seconds and help me figure out what the hell we're going to do with you!" His voice rang throughout the small room, but Malfoy lay on the sofa, seemingly unaffected.

"I don't want your bloody help, Potter," he said in a hard voice. "Get out."

Infuriated, Harry stormed out of the room and slammed the door to the spare room. Maybe he would just leave him here. That way, he could go back to Hogwarts and be done with all this. He tossed around the idea in his head for a few minutes, and sighed in exasperation when he realized he wouldn't be able to do that. Even if it was Malfoy, he'd never forgive himself if the stupid prat got himself killed.

He laid down on the hard cot and forced himself to calm down. He'd stay in here for awhile, and hopefully when he went back out there Malfoy would decide to stop being so stubborn. And if not, well, he could always stun him and drag him back to Hogwarts if he had to.