Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

NOTE: This story has undergone a very vast renovation - I've improved the punctuation, the structure, the characterisation, and the length and compactness of the individual chapters as well. Feel free to let me know what you think of the new stuff, and if you have any inquiries, just come and ask.

As always, enjoy & review.

Deexxx

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><p>"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes... they win." ~ Stephen King<p>

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><p>Harry was conflagrant. Rage was pounding through his veins like fire and it forced the breath through his lungs ten times faster than normal; blood thumped in his brain, almost blinding him. He could practically see the blood vessels in his eyes as they watered with the intensity of the sheer emotion running through his system.<p>

He brought his fist up, the movement mechanical, as though there was something in the core of his mind inhabiting his body, moving it against his will; it was as though he was possessed. Just as it was about to lay into the face of his opponent, his eyes caught the gaze of icy blue ones. It made him stop dead in his tracks; breathing heavy, heart thundering against his ribs, the beat a low, powerful mantra.

Fear was plastered over the pale face below him, mingling darkly with shock and pain and an anger that mirrored his own, a quiet one; a blaze lingering beneath the surface, skilfully controlled and mastered by its beholder. A bright crimson line of blood dripped from the corner of his adversary's mouth where he'd already smacked his fist into his face a couple of times.

He became aware. As the red faded slowly to dark flickers of acerbity at the corners of his vision and the heat cauterized his skin, everything became too clear, too defined. The guilt was setting in, infecting his already deranged psyche as his eyes travelled over the chiselled, pale profile that was so close to his.

"Potter," his breath fanned unevenly across Harry's heated skin and for a split second, his eyes fluttered closed "Potter, get off me," he croaked, with no real venom behind the words.

Harry remembered then that he was straddling Malfoy, one leg on either side of his hips and right arm pinning him down. He didn't want this, he didn't need this; after everything, he just couldn't understand why he had this thing inside him, why he was losing control. Well, he did understand, he just hated it. He hated a lot of things. Too many things. And it was destroying him. He dropped off of Malfoy sideways, stunned at his own acrimony; he hadn't lost constraint like that in a long time.

"Potter..." a cold, but not evil voice cut through his eardrums resembling shards of ice, breaking through the fog around him and causing a faint ringing, drilling through his brain. He looked sideways, eyes still wide, body still pulsing with adrenaline as his parasympathetic nervous system tried to return his functions to normal. Malfoy was hunched over, hugging his ribs with one arm, the other bringing up a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth and nose.

"I – I," Harry broke, tongue numb, a metallic taste flooding his senses "I-" he struggled again, his hands limp on the floor beside him, mouth open and gaping slightly as tears began pouring down his face without his say so.

Draco wanted – no, needed to leave. But for some reason, he could not bring himself to, and yet words were failing him, his brain was immobilized; completely stunned by the force of his enemies sudden outburst. He had been in the same boat before, he knew that no one should touch Potter or go anywhere near him; men on the edge of slipping from sanity via rage should not be approached or talked to. He also knew that Potter was probably dying inside. Guilt would be the main cause, but also fear. Draco could see that this kind of thing had probably happened to Potter before.

If Draco had known how bad Potter's psyche was, he would never have retorted. Draco was still a git, but he had no desire to make even more people hate him, nor did he have any real motivation to hurt Potter anymore either.

"Potter – we – we need to move. I – I think you punctured something," he said, coughing slightly with the effort to talk.

"I – fuck!" Potter's reply was vague and full of anguish, a retch through a dry throat released by a body that was betraying his conscious mind. Then, suddenly, Potter hunched over, scraping his hands over his scalp, through his jet black hair, back shaking with silent sobs.

"Potter seriously, I'm going to leave-"

"GO THEN! FUCK OFF!" he yelled, his voice cracked and echoing around the grounds like thunder "leave like everyone else does"

"Potter, you need to get up," he growled back, beginning to get frustrated "if you don't move your ass and get me up to the hospital wing, I'll call Weasley and Granger," Malfoy said again. Harry's head snapped up.

"Fine, move," he cracked, standing up quickly and grabbing Malfoy viciously by the elbow, pulling him back up towards the castle, their bodies close, as Potter tried to half-assedly conceal the violence that had gone on between them. People were watching them as Potter marched him through the corridors. He protested against the hold, hissing curse words at his previous arch nemesis. But no one intervened. Everyone, even the new kids in school, knew well not to interrupt a fight between Potter and Malfoy; it was suicide.

They must have looked like they'd just come back from battle. Draco's shirt was torn, Potter was sporting a black eye and, now Draco was paying attention, quite a severe limp. Their hair was messy, and blood was dripping from a cut above Harry's eyebrow.

"What the devil is going on here?" Madame Pomfrey asked loudly, just managing to catch Draco as Harry shoved his elbow forward with malice, anger still not drained from him.

"Nothing woman, just clean me up already; my chest is burning and I think I'm about to pass out," Draco snapped, shrugging her off him when he'd gotten his balance, watching with narrowed eyes and wary confusion as Potter clenched his jaw together, powerful muscles flexing through his torn shirt. Potter lifted his arms above his head, hands cradling the back of his skull while he paced back and forth through the isle between the hospital beds, breathing heavy and raspy, his lips pursed, eyes closely shut as though he was trying with all his might not to cry again.

"Draco, come," Poppy said curtly, eyebrows furrowed as she looked hard at Harry, taking Draco tenderly by the arms and softly guiding him to the nearest bed pan.

"Off, move boy; I haven't got all night," she busied firmly but, like everyone else in the school, Draco had learned not to take her snapping seriously. She liked everyone much better when they were healthy and well, and despite being annoyingly motherly beyond belief, she was a very kind, compassionate woman. Contrary to popular belief, Draco _did_ know how to appreciate that kind of thing.

Draco shamelessly yanked his school shirt and tie over his head, trying not to look shocked with the angry bruises appearing over his grazed ribs. The third one down on the right side of his rib cage was sticking out at an odd angle and black and blue colouring was slowly gathering around it.

Shit, Potter had got him bad.

"Well get on with it then," Draco snapped, gesturing to his torso and Madame Pomfrey seemed to snap out of it, taking out her wand and muttering healing spells around the broken bone.

"Okay then, lay down and stop your whining. This'll hurt and I need to see if you've punctured anything," she instructed, her voice shaking slightly and he sighed deeply, wincing when it out strain on a dull ache in his lungs.

"Potter sit the fuck down before you make yourself pass out, I think I smashed your head against the floor when you were trying to suffocate me," Draco spat venomously, and Potter didn't even look at him, ignoring him and slamming his foot into a bedside table, making Madame Pomfrey jump.

"Potter if you don't calm yourself, I will be forced to call the headmistress; sit down," she demanded, her voice cold now but not void of worry for her student.

"Pomfrey that fucking hurts," Draco reminded her breathlessly, feeling the pressure building up around his diaphragm.

"Right, sorry. Very well Draco, try to relax, and if I so much as hear a peep out of you about 'ohh the pain' or 'I think I'm dying, my father will hear about this' then I will decapitate you personally," she huffed, rolling her sleeves up and concentrating hard as she muttered the spell. Draco felt a bone click back into place; it was terribly ironic that even after all these years, he'd wound up back in the hospital wing because of Harry Fucking Golden Boy Potter.

"Right, I'm off," Draco announced, standing up too fast and swaying slightly.

"You are kidding me?" Potter barked in outrage "I beat you to a pulp, and you're leaving after a couple of bones have been fixed?" he added, emerald eyes still sparkling with hate and anger.

"Yes you did beat me to a pulp Potter, and I don't intend on giving you the satisfaction of seeing me in pain. So I'm dealing with this in my own way, so go sort yourself out and keep your fucking mouth shut about this or you'll have more than that broken ankle to worry about. No brooding or wondering around like a suicidal twat, just don't talk about it again," Draco dismissed threateningly, breath fanning across Potter's face again. All the fear from earlier was gone; he knew that Potter had scared himself enough to get some kind of anger management help. That was, of course, if the sanctimonious wanker didn't get all depressed and continue sinking into his whole of denial.

"Unfortunately Mr Malfoy, Potter is right," Poppy said matter-of-factly, pressing a hand between his pectoral muscles, and another steadying hand on his back, guiding him back onto the bed "you are too injured to be going back to your dorms for the moment. Sleep for a few hours, and then if I think you are safe, you may leave"

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><p>"Malfoy, what the fuck? You look like you just went ten rounds with the whomping willow," Blaise's voice came from behind him as he neared the dungeons, limping on a sprained ankle and weakened hamstring.<p>

"No, just Harry fricking Potter," he replied coldly, fists still clenched in anger.

He could empathise with his twat of an enemy but that didn't mean he wasn't fucking furious about being left in this state. His pride was more damaged than anything.

"What? I'll kill the bastard!" Blaise exclaimed and Draco managed to grip Blaise's arm before he went storming off on a manhunt, yanking him back around to face him.

"You go up to that hospital wing all guns blazing and Potter will actually kill you Blaise," Draco's voice was low and gravelly and tired "he's in a dark place, he needs to sort himself out; I know, believe me. I'm not sticking up for him, but I've been in that place before, so have you, and it isn't pretty. I'm not kidding, he's in full blown ripper mode; stage four," Draco reiterated, force and authority behind his words. Blaise's dark eyes widened and his eyebrows hit the top of his forehead.

"Stage four?" he said, concerned "we never even got that far. I mean, we were trained to be angry, but they always reigned us in before we lost control. Bella was stage_ five_ for fuck sake! Dray, you need to do something about this, before it happens again," Blaise sighed, posture dropping into a slightly defeated demeanour. He took Draco's arm nonchalantly and threw it over his shoulder, letting his friend put some of his weight on him so he could walk better as he helped him through the portrait hole.

Draco had a feeling it was going to be a very long week.

It had been a week since their fight, and although Draco was pretty damn sure Potter had not told anyone directly, half the school were whispering about it and pointing to Potter's black eye and Draco's limp.

Three days sub-sequential to the incident, they were both called to McGonagall's office and had both been assigned separate detentions for three weeks along with fifty points from each of their houses. It pissed Draco off to no end that he was eighteen and still being disciplined by a two hundred year old woman who had openly favoured the Gryffindors for most of his academic career. But as much as he hated to admit it, discipline was what he needed in his life right now; structure and a good mentor for a change. She demeaned to regret her years of outright prejudice against the Slytherins anyway, and had actually adopted him as somewhat of a pet project. He was negligent to it really, as long as he got to finish his education and would never have to come back to this place.

"You're zoning out again man, you look stoned all the time," Blaise pointed out, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice as Pansy leaned into the conversation.

"Potter looks worse, and he got off with a black eye," she said in a quiet voice "I heard Granger telling Weasley that Potter isn't eating or sleeping, and he keeps yelling at everyone. The other day, when you got called out of class to sign your father's inheritance papers, he had a huge argument with Snape. He stormed out and threw his stool. Snape was fucking furious," Pansy reported. Draco's brow furrowed as he swallowed the toast in his mouth and glanced sideways behind him, almost forgetting to hide his expression when he saw how dark Potter looked.

But it was none of his business. What Potter did and how he looked after himself had nothing to do with Draco.

"Dray, he's going to blow up at someone big time soon and it's more likely to be you than anyone else," Pansy told him, looking at Draco with her deep purple eyes. He dropped his gaze to the table transitorily before meeting hers once more, swearing briefly under his breath.

"Potter isn't my responsibility, I've got my own shit to deal with. My father just died, remember? And my Mother is a full time drunk. There's nothing I can do for Potter, and why would I even want to consider doing anything?" he insisted irritably. It reminded him of when he had been actually been in a similar state to Potter; indomitable, narcoleptic, emaciated, and angry. It was the lowest feeling in the world, never knowing when you were about to snap. It was worse than having to take the mark.

"I don't know, but you've got to do something because things are about to get very, very dangerous for you," she huffed, turning away from him as Blaise shrugged.

"Don't ask me," Blaise held his arms up in defence, shaking his head "Potter's a loose cannon; you can save your own skin, my part only comes in afterwards if you fail to deal with him and he hurts you, that's when he signs his own death sentence, and I become the executioner," Blaise grinned sadistically, and Draco couldn't help smirking slightly "I'll get a pretty axe and everything," he grinned. It was the Slytherin way - they let their friends deal with their problems in their own time but if anyone actually hurt them, the whole of Slytherin had a whole list of ways to creatively murder people in their sleep.

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><p>"Malfoy, wait a second," Potter's voice reached his ear drums abruptly, causing a phantom throb along his ribs. He just kept picturing him screaming at him, yelling with pure rage before his fist hit him in the face. Not that he was having nightmares about Potter attacking him or anything, not at all. It was just that the bastard had beat him up pretty bad and he was still aching when he'd been walking around for too long, or if he hadn't rested for more than ten hours.<p>

He clenched his jaw to avoid losing his own cool, and to sidestep dissolving what was left of Potter's. He turned on his heel, his blue eyes cold, narrowed and distant, his body language defensive and powerful, despite the casual way that he stood with his hands in his pockets. He was not letting Potter get the better of him ever again.

"Well, of it isn't our resident Chuck Norris," Draco sighed blandly "go and yell at someone who actually cares about what you have to say Potter, I'm not interested"

Throughout Potter's whole life, the world had treated the boy differently to others, as though he was a charity case, stepping on glass around him, trying not to smash his entire exterior for fear of what was within. But Draco knew that he could match Potter for speed, strength and agility. That was if he kept his own and didn't let it get out of hand like it had the previous week. That had been terrifying, and he had no problem admitting it. Well, he wasn't going to say it out loud or anything, but it was the truth.

He watched as Potter opened his mouth to retort, but words seemed to catch in his throat. It was really quite amusing to watch him floundering, trying not to erupt and snap someone's neck in half. Eventually, Potter managed to hold it together, and with a deep breath, he swallowed tightly, his fists clenching. A vein pulsed in his forehead next to the impressive lightning shaped scar. Draco cursed himself for a moment inwardly. No, it was not impressive, it was annoying and ridiculous and he didn't know why people worshipped the damn thing so much.

"I just wanted to... thank you. I hate you, but I... I was very, very out of line to react the way I did. I'm sorry, and... thank you for keeping quiet and not pressing charges," he grumbled, gritting his teeth between words to try and get them out coherently. Draco glanced sideways and then looked behind them to make sure no one was listening before he walked straight up to Potter, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder hard enough to hurt. Potter winced but made no move to shove him off.

"Now look here Bruce Banner, I don't need your thanks or your apologies. I gave as good as I got; granted, I still can't walk properly, but I did not keep my mouth shut for your benefit, trust me. This would ruin my Mother if she had to deal with the press it would create, and I'd lose half my inheritance trying to claim in a court case. So don't be grateful, because if it had been this time two years ago, I'd have you buried six feet under in a plot in my back yard by now and everyone would think you'd died in a tragic, mysterious accident. Not that I give a shit, but I plan on keeping my life as on track as I can this time around, so sort out your anger management issues Potter or you're going to hurt someone you love.

I did, and I'll never forgive myself for that, because I spent a year denying what was right in front of me," he said, barely a proper voice. Somewhere between speaking and a whisper. He was surprised that Potter didn't need to try to keep it together. Draco had just insulted him at least twice, and he wasn't even flinching.

"Don't talk to me, don't touch me or my friends, Potter. Sort yourself out because you are dangerous, and you're going somewhere bad and dark and fucked up, and you know it," Draco ended for good measure before turning on his heel again and storming off down the corridor, quite worked up himself from the confrontation. He would be refraining from breaking his own knuckles punching walls for the rest of the day. Damn Potter and his pissshit ability to wind Draco up so much.

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><p>"Harry – uh – are you – are you okay?" Hermione finally managed to get out breathlessly, body tense. She edged backwards on the sofa away from him slightly when he adjusted himself.<p>

He looked at her with a confused expression for a moment before he caught her eyes and realised that she was scared of him. Hermione, his Hermione. His sister, the one who he loved more than anyone else on the planet... she was frightened that he was going to hurt her just because she'd asked him if he was okay. Slowly, he reached forward and gently took her hand in his, her eyes were still conflicted and tired, but her defensive body language had relaxed slightly and she was looking at him properly.

"Are you... are you scared of me?" he asked, his face shocked as tears filled his eyes without him noticing or being able to stop them.

"No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head fast, eyes full of anguish. He knew she was lying, he knew every single expression on her face "never! Harry, I don't – look, you – you have a problem and – I'm not frightened of you, I'm frightened _for_ you. I don't want you to wind up doing something stupid. Your life hasn't exactly been tame has it?"

In that moment, he hated himself more than he had ever hated himself in his whole life.

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><p>"May I have your attention please?" McGonagall's voice echoed through the hall and although people still looked at each other, the entire room went quiet immediately. It was only when people saw the worried look on her face and the shaking of her hands as she spoke – strong as ever but clearly rocked by something – that everyone really paid attention.<p>

"You may or may not have noticed that this week there have been several behavioural instances regarding Harry Potter. Although I am unable to divulge to you the full details of what has occurred in the last twenty four hours, I feel it my duty to inform you that Mr Potter will be off for three weeks due to an injury he sustained last night."

Draco frowned, eyes widening, lips parting a tiny crack as he swallowed, drawing in a slow breath as he sort of guessed what had happened. His fingers snuck up the sleeve of his cloak of their own accord, brushing lightly over the neat line of consecutive self-inflicted scars along his wrist. Draco had warned him.

"It is not overly serious," McGonagall continued, blatantly lying "measures are being taken to ensure that this type of incident will not occur again. But as I am sure you are all aware, Mr Potter has not had an easy year and is most tired and in need of extreme recuperation. I ask you not to worry or gossip or do anything out of the ordinary, for Mr Potter is getting better even now as we speak and will be closely monitored over the course of the following weeks.

What I do also ask of you, is that you have respect for Harry's situation and support him as you would your brothers, as here at Hogwarts, although divided by house and colour, we are somewhat of a growing family. He will be ready for visitors in a couple of days, and I'm sure, as ever, he will be most pleased to see his friends. A lot of the time, they are all we has left in this world. That will be all," McGonagall finished, taking in a discreet, calming breath and raising her wrinkled, beautiful head high to smile ever so slightly at her school.

Malfoy was too busy thinking to notice that Pansy was whispering animatedly to her fellow Slytherins, or that Goyle and Crabbe were both snickering at a joke Blaise had made about Potter.

He wondered if his guess was right. He wondered if the anger was leading Potter down the road Draco had tried to tell him about. Draco attempted to convince himself that it didn't matter, that he didn't give a shit because Potter wasn't anything to him apart from a lingering bitterness in the pit of his gut.

But it didn't work. Harry Potter was a human being. And no human being deserved to go through this.

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><p>Draco caught the Granger girl's arm and pulled her away from the group of students exiting their Transfiguration classroom and moved her with surprising softness against the wall so he could talk to her without anyone hearing them.<p>

"What's going on?" he demanded and through red rimmed eyes and tired skin, Granger frowned. It was hardly a rare occurrence, but it struck home a little when he saw how fragile and delicate she looked. Whatever Potter had done, it was obviously worse than McGonagall was letting on.

"Why do you care Malfoy? You hate him, you hate me. Just leave us alone," she said, her eyes narrowed, lips moving barely enough for him to hear properly. She was angry, but not at him. Probably at the world, at Weasley. Who knew? It was Granger, she was one of the most complicated people he had ever met.

"Because I had a fucking bash up with him last week, mudbl-" he stopped himself before he could say it out of habit, reminding himself that he was not that person anymore "whatever he's done, I want to know that I'm not in the frame," he hissed, pulling her further away seeing as she wasn't bothering to lower her voice or anything.

She let out a bitter laugh, glaring at him.

"Well don't worry Malfoy, your precious reputation is in no danger of becoming any more mangled than it already is," she spat venomously, making to walk. He caught hold of her elbow again however, slamming her back against the wall. She winced and hissed a few choice swear words at him, trying to shrug out of his hold.

"What did he do?" he asked, not really knowing why he cared. He didn't. Not really. But he'd always had stupid levels of curiosity, so much so that his mother frequently told him that if it weren't for his father's teachings, he might have been the first Malfoy to end up as a Ravenclaw. Also, he had a slight taste for getting himself into situations he couldn't help pursuing.

"Harry smashed up the boys dormitory last night and slashed his wrists"

He'd always hated Granger. Her self-righteous, know-it-all attitude had always pissed him off; but also, on the most part, he'd hated her for her intelligence. It allowed her to lace her words together in just the right concoction to create a sting on your conscience that would have you obsessing over a single situation for days. She could be a poisonous little bitch when she wanted to, it was actually a surprising contrast, considering her compassion and annoying ability to love everything that breathed... well, maybe not him. But he'd never cared much about how she felt about him, he hated her back with equal enthusiasm.

It had long been a musing of his that maybe that was what drew him to his own breakdown - all the hate he had, had simply consumed him. But he didn't often dwell too long on it; the memories of the night when he himself had lost control were too much for him to handle and he would never truly recover from seeing someone else's' blood on his hands.

"He finally saw sense then," he couldn't help the words slipping from his lips and before they had even fully dissolved into the air, a hand collided sharply with his face, whipping his neck to the left, leaving a tingling, electric patch of skin across his cheekbone. He didn't know why he had said that. He brought a hand up to his face, and when he pulled his fingers away, there was a dotting of his own blood on the tips of his pale fingers.

"You're an evil bastard Draco Malfoy," she hissed, throat bobbing, eyes sparkling with malevolence and hatred "and one of these days your cruelty is going to catch up with you," she coiled, hair standing on end, freckled face red with rage, eyes narrowed harshly and full of tears.

For the first time – well, second time – he felt guilty for making Hermione Granger cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Potter returned to the school two months later after an elongated leave of absence, due to two further attempts on his own life and the fact that St Mungos had to put him on suicide watch. Normally Draco wouldn't have noticed it much, but his leg was still hurting from their fight – Pomfrey had concluded that the angle it had been broken at was awkward, so whilst she'd been able to fix it, it would remain slightly damaged for a long time.

Everyone was loudly fawning over Potter once more – nature had been restored, Weasley didn't look like a kicked puppy, and the Weasley girl was fussing loudly every time the guy was in the fucking room, which made it practically impossible for Draco to ignore his presence, hence the noticing. There was something different about Potter now as well; for one thing, the healers had obviously prescribed the same therapy to Potter as they had to him in the past. The mental health ward at St Mungos also owned a large gym room which they used predominantly for their patients receiving treatment for aggression. Draco had to admit, one of the only good things about his own stay in that place, was discovering his fondness for fitness and cardio – it remained one of the only ways he could really deal with everything when it was all getting to be too much.

So, now Potter had new muscles all in his shoulders and chest and his shirts were tightened around them. Draco hated people like that, the ones that tried to show off the new qualities they got from bad things. Fine, if it makes you a better person then whatever, just don't try to make yourself look all dark and handsome for popularity.

"Oh man, Harry Potter got smokin," Pansy remarked, sitting back in her chair, biting her bottom lip, crossing her right leg over her left one and letting her deep purple eyes roam over the 'new improved wonder boy'.

"That is disgusting on so many levels," Draco grimaced, shaking his head at the ground and Blaise groaned.

"I second that. You go near that dangerous lunatic, and I'll put frog spunk in your moisturiser," Blaise threatened, sitting forward on his chair. Her jaw dropped, her eyes narrowing.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed in a low voice, and he grinned evilly at her.

"It's for your own good Pans, _I_ don't want to be going to your funeral because Potter turned on you, and _you_ don't want to die knowing that I put frog spunk in your lotion," he sighed dramatically with a cheeky wink and she growled.

"I hate you Blaise Zabini," she growled through gritted teeth, and he shrugged.

"Whatever, you'll be back in my bed by tomorrow," he replied with a self-sure smile. She glared at him for a few seconds before seemingly coming to a conclusion in her mind, flicking her head sideways.

"Fair point," she agreed, and Draco smirked in amusement, shaking his head again.

"You know, you don't do our reputation any justice. You prove everyone right; everyone thinks we're a bunch of whores," he pointed out, scribbling an extra note on his potions homework and closing his books.

"Remind me again why the hell they're making us sit in here studying with the Gryffindors?" Pansy sighed, and he rolled his eyes, looking up and Madame Pince who was having a field day trying to get people to be quiet.

"Something about house unity. I don't get it; they're still sat over there, and we're still sat over here," he commented, standing up and throwing his bag over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" she asked and he shrugged, running his hand through his platinum blonde hair.

"I'm hungover like hell and Madame Pomfrey refuses to give me any more potion. I'm off to bed," he informed her and she smiled.

"You _were_ quite a lot of fun last night," she pursed her lips, crossing her legs over each other. He smirked lightly and winked at her.

"Any time Parkison, any time," he retorted, walking away. Blaise raised his eyebrows, looking at her with exasperation.

"And _he_ lectures _us_ about being slags?" he remarked. She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

"I'm bored, let's go make out," she replied, standing and catching his hand in hers, yanking him out of his seat and through the library behind her, leaving a moody Crabbe and Goyle staring at each other like lost puppies.

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><p>"I'm not just trying to scare you when I tell you that this potion needs to be brewed correctly; the consequences could be astronomical," Slughorn warned seriously, his growing double chin moving as he talked.<p>

"The ingredients are in the store cupboard; off with you," he said with a small smile before he sat behind his desk and slid his spectacles up his nose with one finger, dipping his quill in some ink and beginning to mark papers, "oh and Harry, move to the back and work with Mr Malfoy, Mr Weasley always brings your grades down. He can work with Miss Granger," Slughorn instructed, not looking up from his essays. Draco felt dread in the pit of his stomach. Shit, the stupid, fat old walrus was being purposely annoying.

"But sir-"

"Harry, no arguments. Sit at the back," Slughorn interrupted him and Potter slammed his bag on the desk from the floor, swiping it up over his shoulder and dropping it forcefully on the ground next to Draco's desk, opening his own book while Draco lit the fire and went off to get the ingredients.

They worked in silence for the most part, not even having to look at each other. Things were going absolutely fine until Potter dropped a beetle's head into the potion instead of a foot. Everything seemed to be normal so they moved to carry on but then the cauldron began to bubble and everyone turned to look at them.

Before either of them had realised properly what was happening, Draco had instinctively pushed them both out of the way of the exploding mixture as it blew up, the liquid flying everywhere. Slughorn got to the back of the class fast enough to cast a shield charm around the students in front of the explosion, but the hot, thick liquid went over the floor all around Harry and Draco.

"Potter, you absolute twat!" Draco yelled but the strange feeling was already starting to hurt his head and his vision was going blurry. He tried to focus on Potter, but he'd already passed out. In a second he'd hit the floor, out cold.

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><p>Fog hovered around his subconscious, his hearing hazy, senses debilitated enough for him to want to smack his head against a wall just to assure himself that he could still feel something. It was sort of like he was underwater. He had never liked water if he was being honest, the rain was cold and vexatious and it percolated through his clothes and gave him headaches.<p>

Baths... well, his father used to dunk his head in them and hold him under if he was misbehaving, so he had always preferred showers really. Swimming pools, well, they were okay. He liked the swimming pool at the manor because it had a special locking mechanism on the door that prevented anyone you didn't want in there with you from coming in at all costs. His mother had never told him why the lock was there, but he was grateful for it.

He was somewhat of a skilled swimmer actually, he could double and triple his inheritance if he had a galleon for every hour he'd spent in the manor's swimming pool during the holidays as a child. When his father was away on business, his mother had always allowed his friends over to stay for a couple of weeks at a time. Blaise had actually taught him how to swim, he had always told him 'girls dig a swimmers body, it's athletic, lean and flexible. They don't really like those big muscly buffoons, they want someone they can dominate, but who can be strong for them at the same time'.

When Draco really thought about it, Blaise had kind of been more of a dad to him than his actual father over the years. He was his best friend and brother first and foremost of course; but when Draco had wanted to ask questions about girls (sometimes also boys), when he had needed someone to stitch up his wounds and fix his bones, when he wanted to get drunk for the first time and when he had nowhere else to go; Blaise had been there with firm, steady, trusty hands and a neutral, wise voice to guide him. Draco knew Blaise still beat himself up about not being able to prevent him from getting the mark. But if he was being honest, he wouldn't be alive without him.

That's if he even was alive of course. Maybe this was what being dead was like.

That was when he felt an unceremonious prodding against his forehead, bringing him more into the world of reality, but leaving him hanging somewhere between awareness, and sleep. As his body returned to him, he could feel the extreme, eye splitting thudding of his brain; strain was pushing against the muscles, the organ throbbing terribly against the back of his eye sockets. Maybe not like being under water then – his days in the swimming pool had never been as shitty as this. He groaned loudly, rolling over to shove his head in his pillow and go back to sleep; but sharp pain shot through his entire form before he could move properly and he coughed out, his eyes watering.

Someone was at his side, pulling up an eyelid to check his pupils. He hissed in pain, the lighting in the room making his brain give a particularly painful pulse.

"He's awake Cissy," Madame Pomfrey called softly, her voice full of worry.

"Sit back Malfoy, you're just going to hurt yourself. Now, you're in the hospital wing, do you remember what that is?" she spoke gently in his ear, helping him into a more comfortable position and checking his blood pressure and heart beat. He managed to nod feebly, vision going completely black for a moment as he was moved upright.

"His breathing is irregular, but not by much. We're more concerned about – Minerva, check on Potter, he'll probably be awake now as well," she paused halfway through her assessment and without opening his eyes still, Draco heard McGonagall rushing to sort out Potter.

Something else became apparent to him when he calmed himself and concentrated properly; a heart beating alongside his own, a brushing of an emotion. An irritation and then another jolt of pain that made him spasm slightly. The only issue was, it didn't feel like his own pain. It was foreign, of a different nature to his own harsh type of affliction.

"'The fuck is going on?" he groaned again as his Mother grasped his hand tightly in her own and Pomfrey cast a spell that made his body numb slightly so that he could move a little, and feel hardly any pain. There was now a dull ache in his head and he heard McGonagall cast the same spell in the booth over from him. The pain he didn't recognise faded a little as well - holy shit. An idea of what the potion had done was forming in his mind. He sat up fast, ignoring his muscles protesting against it.

"Seriously? You've got to be fucking kidding me," he growled, anger replacing the pain and his mother squeezed his hand in warning. He'd had the anger management classes and the whole rehab thing, but that part of him would always be there somewhere.

"Mr Malfoy, calm yourself," Pomfrey said again sternly, putting a hand on his chest and forcing him back down.

"Please tell me this is not happening?" he said fiercely and Madame Pomfrey frowned.

"What? What is it that you mean Mr Malfoy?" she asked and he stopped scowling and looked confused.

"You don't know?" he asked and she shook her head.

"Stab me with that scalpel," he demanded. She looked outraged.

"What? No! I am your nurse Malfoy, I do not hurt you, I make you better," she exclaimed and he growled again in frustration, grabbing the scalpel off of his bedside table, stabbing himself in the leg. Potter let out a yelp of pain and McGonagall flew the curtain back, a furious glare fixed intensely on him.

"Mr Malfoy, take that out of your leg and stop acting like an idiot," she snapped. He pulled the metal from his pale skin once more and winced, biting his bottom lip as the blood dribbled out from the wound, trickling down his leg. Madame Pomfrey slapped his hand away and healed it, looking at him with angry, disapproving eyes.

"It was just an experiment! And I've proved the stupid fucking thing right haven't I? Aren't you getting it yet? I can _feel_ him. He's pissing me off already, but it's true! We've gone and got ourselves stuck in a fucking bond!" he snapped, and Narcissa let go of his hand in shock, her green eyes wide and full of tears.

"What? That's impossible, it was just a liquid; you can't bind two minds together with a liquid! There are only spells that can do that! And besides, you didn't even drink it! It just went on your skin," Madame Pomfrey replied incredulously, looking from Potter, back to Draco, eyes wide and irritated.

"I don't know how it happened, _I'm_ just an eighteen year old deatheater remember? _You're_ supposed to be the fucking expert," he ranted, and he gritted his teeth when Potter sat up with a sleepy groan.

"Mr Malfoy, kindly stop with the curse words, they are vile and unnecessary," McGonagall constrained, and it was very clear that she was reaching her temper limit with him for the day.

The woman had sort of a line of patience with him. He was an angry young man himself, he knew that, and so dealing with him and his pent up aggression every day probably drove the old crone mad. He had indeed come to find that she only had a certain amount of cool with him per day, if he crossed it, he would be on the receiving end of a month full of detentions and cleaning out Hagrid's toilet with his toothbrush. She did it to remind him of his 'equal social status' or something. That was always when she liked to bring in a rant about his inferiority complex and how spoilt and bratty he was. He had learnt to respect her ageing heart and lungs now however, and she very rarely ended up yelling at him of late.

He hated the fact that he could feel Potter's emotions grating against his own; it was like trying to write neatly with two pencils in the wrong hand. His body felt weak and tired. The more Potter became aware of what was going on, the more Draco wanted to stab himself again just to shut Potter up too.

"Bond?" Harry grumbled groggily, rubbing his forehead, eyes half open.

"Yes Potter, you and your fucking butter fingers winded us up bound to each other; can't you-"

"Yes Malfoy, I can feel your anger and it's not helping me!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing around the room. There was a moment of silence before McGonagall drew in a rattly, shaky breath and rubbed her wrinkly, long hands together, looking at Harry with gentle authority.

"Potter, stop it; calm yourself, you are doing no one any good by working yourself up. Mr Malfoy, be quiet and for the love of Merlin, stop swearing while we _'experts'_ think of something to do about this," she seethed. Against his better judgement, with damage to his pride, Draco obeyed his headmistress and promptly kept his mouth shut. It was like he could hear Potter's thoughts – well, not actually hear them, but he could feel them. They were separate to his own but very close. One emotion caused another to spring up inside his own body, making them both more anxious and pissed off by the second.

"Poppy, have you heard of this before?" McGonagall asked, and Madame Pomfrey sighed, nodding once.

"I have heard of the connection, yes, but I haven't heard of it happening this way. It's as though their skin absorbed the faulty potion and it merged them together mentally. It is very strange. But it's the binding itself we need to worry about. With Potter's current mental state and Draco's... personality, things are going to be very dangerous. We're going to have to do everything much more carefully than 'by the book', so to speak. This is out of my league; I'm going to have to call a healer in, an 'expert'," she remarked, glaring pointedly at Draco. He glared straight back at her, but didn't say anything, knowing McGonagall would really lose it if he pushed her much further. He wanted as few people as possible to know about this, so he wasn't at all happy that they were bringing in a white jacket to poke and prod them like they were a freaking medical experiment.

"Mother, do something! This is insane! I don't care about the bond, I care about getting rid of it!" Draco said, looking helplessly at his Mother who simply shook her head, her eyes still wide in shock. Slowly, her hand crept back into his and the warmth calmed him, despite how little she knew about how to help him.

"I was bound to your father when we married, but it was different, it was only a betrothal bond that would let us know when either of us were in trouble; it's not intimate like this. There are a lot of different types of bond; all are dangerous but none are unmanageable. It will simply be like taming a lion. You'll see, we will be fine," she said gently, her brow furrowed with worry, the smallest of soft smiles gracing her painted lips.

"Yes, that's all very touching, but when mommy and baby are done with their little love scene; could someone explain what the hell she means by '_intimate_'?" Potter snapped, and Draco whipped his neck around.

"Shut your mouth Potter or I'll come over there and shut it for you-"

"If you do that Mr Malfoy, you shall just be hurting yourself; you bruise the same as he does, he bleeds if you bleed. You're bound to each other now; you're responsible for one another," Madame Pomfrey stated and Potter's eyes widened further.

"You're kidding me? We're enemies! The Arch fucking Nemesis side of loathing, and you want us to be responsible for each other? This is bullshit, I'm leaving," Malfoy announced angrily, standing up and pushing past arms trying to stop him. He got as far as the staircase outside the hospital wing before his muscles spasmed, and pain exploded in his head, shooting like knives through his nervous system.

He dropped to his knees, gnarling in agony, clutching his head tightly, fingers clawing through his hair, stressed enough to draw blood. Someone took him by the shoulders and rushed him back towards the room. He was helped into bed as the pain ebbed away slightly. He realised that he could feel Potter hurting as well, and the boy was also sat in the bed over from him, coughing and panting with the force of how fast it had hit them.

"You can't be apart! You stupid boy, you could have given yourself and Mr Potter an aneurysm! Stop acting like a suicidal teenager and deal with it!" he heard his Mother's firm tone scolding him as he tried to get his breath back. His skin was on fire, like needles were pricking his body every three seconds and his blood boiled through his veins.

"Calm Potter, breathe," she spoke softly and directly to her student, glancing up worriedly and gravely meeting Pomfrey's eyes "this is going to be ten times more difficult than we originally thought"


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Malfoy hissed as he sat up right in McGonagall's office, his elbow leaning on the armrest of the chair, his head in one hand whilst the fingers of his other one pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the irritating migraine that was refusing to go away.

"It's the only way Draco, you'll die if you live apart and there would not be much point in that now, would there? Especially after everything the two of you have been through together; you would think that you'd have at least learned to act like responsible adults by now," she said, tutting to herself.

Draco glared at her but Harry slammed his hand down on the desk in front of them, making McGonagall's stare turn hard as she narrowed her amber eyes.

"I have been through _nothing_ with him, he's brought me _nothing_ but pain and anger over the years and he doesn't deserve anyone's forgiveness," Harry spat, his eyes livid and wide, his mouth stretched into a thin line. If Potter had ever looked frightening, now would be the time... not to mention quite unattractive. Not that Potter had ever been particularly good-looking of course.

"Potter, sit the fuck down. I may be a bit of an asshole, but I know how to respect my elders," Malfoy sighed, more worried for McGonagall then for himself. Especially since the anger and emotion Potter was putting out was making him queasy and tired.

"Respect your elders? Did you ever tell anyone what happened to Charity Burbage?" Potter shouted and Draco jumped up immediately, unable to stop himself, his own cool dissolving as he got in his face. That was it, Burbage was one of his triggers; most of them were memories. That name brought him the intense fear and helplessness he'd felt when he'd watched Nagini tearing her body apart on the table in front of him. It was one of the darkest things he'd ever experienced but he had simple had no choice, he was just a scared seventeen year old with no one to run to. And he hated himself for not being braver, for not having the courage to take her place that day and for being such a pathetic waste of space.

"If you ever say that name in my presence again Potter, and I'll rip your fucking throat out," Malfoy spoke, his jaw pulsing, fists clenched as Harry looked at him for a few seconds, breathing deeply, battling his own anger "Now sit. The fuck. Down," Malfoy said through gritted teeth. As though seeing Malfoy so weak and so angry seemed to calm him slightly, Harry swallowed once and backed off, sitting slowly back down in his own chair.

"When you are both quite finished," McGonagall said blandly with a familiar haughtiness, her Scottish accent coming through more than ever before, her hair was escaping its tight bun and she looked stressed. She would not put up with this behaviour for long, although Draco doubted this discussion would simply last a few more minutes.

The thing that brought Draco out of the red haze the most three hours later, was the guilt that set in when he noticed how much pressure he was putting on his older mentor and headmistress, and it forced him to consider for a moment how silly she was to be running a school when she was barely breathing after one scrap between two teenage boys. Nevertheless, he trusted the old bat to guide him, probably more than he trusted anyone really and that was enough for him to shut his mouth and follow his own advice.

* * *

><p>Potter paced the room angrily, hands clenched tightly into fists, knuckles white, ridiculous hair standing on end. His green eyes were narrowed and every few seconds something would snap, a pencil would fly off its desk, a small glass case would smash and fall through, a picture would fly up, hitting the ceiling and landing with a thud on the floor.<p>

Draco practically had to tie himself to the chair he was sitting in so as not to get up and punch Potter in the throat. Godammit it was like trying to keep patience whilst babysitting a blast ended skrewt; Potter was driving him crazy and on top of it all, Draco was sweaty, tired and hungry which was most certainly _not_ helping.

"You're supposed to be his teacher! Stop him fucking pacing he's making me want to - _arrrrrrrggh_! Sit the fuck down Potter! How many times do I have to tell you?" Malfoy exclaimed, repeating his previous argument and Minerva slammed a book down on the desk in front of her, glaring at her students with a look so mutinous, both shut up immediately and Harry froze still in his tracks.

"You do not talk to me like that Malfoy, do not forget your place. Nor you Potter, sit down and stop breaking my things. For Merlin's sake! You are supposed to be responsible young men and you are acting like twelve year olds. Get a hold of yourselves! I am your headmistress and I will do everything I can to help you, but I need your respect and there is no way in hell I will take anymore of _this_. Potter, I'll call your psychologist in a few short moments, just listen to me would you?" she hissed in outrage.

There was a few seconds of silence before Harry clutched his jaw tight and drew in a loud, sharp, deep breath, closing his eyes and opening them slowly before nodding, sitting woodenly in the chair next to Malfoy.

"My apologies Professor McGonagall," he said tightly, his voice strained and not as deep as normal. Draco could feel the painful flicker of anger in Potter and it was building in his stomach, a quiet tingle in his shoulder muscles, and he realised just how long they'd been arguing and pacing for. It was reaching near twelve midnight and they still were not sorting out a solution to their problem.

"That is quite alright Mr Potter," she spoke levelly, old eyes softening marginally "nevertheless, I shall take twenty points from each of your houses for disrespecting your headmistress. Now, as I have said several times already; we cannot find anything presently that will undo the bond, so for now, you are going to have to live together. We have living quarters on the far side of the school. It seems that as a result of the animosity between the two of you, the bond has only strengthened in the time you have spent bickering, and Mr Malfoy's escape attempt this morning has made things much more complicated, so you will need to use the same bedroom. You will sleep in separate beds of course, I shall give the two of you no more ammunition to kill each other in your sleep. But we don't – we are unsure of any other affects this is going to have on the two of you, so the situation may change as the nature of the bond progresses," she explained, becoming imperceptibly hesitant.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, confused. He was at loss to imagine what could possibly make this situation any worse.

"I have spoken with the Healer who is keeping an eye on you and she believes that although it's not a marital bond, it is still mentally real. You are joined together in your minds, and so you may find that eventually you hear each other's thoughts. There's a possibility that you will experience an even bigger personality clash. The thing we're most worried about however, is... well it's the other things," she said carefully, her expression guarded and hesitant as a small blush rose in her wrinkled cheeks. He frowned.

"I still don't understand," Draco said again and McGonagall sighed, sitting down tiredly in her chair and drawing the pin from the bun at the back of her head, releasing the tight hairstyle into stunningly shiny brown waves with only a few grey strands mixing in the candlelight. It was only then that he realised just how old McGonagall was; despite still being surprisingly pretty.

"We think that because you are bonded in mind, you're instincts have been affected and you might end up having urges to be bonded... in other ways," she said swallowing and looking at them, gaging for a reaction. Draco felt outrage flare up in Potter beside his own.

"Oh hell no, I am _not_ gay," Potter squirmed in his seat in a way that suggested otherwise and made Draco raise an eyebrow "especially not for that bastard," Potter added loudly and she sighed, shrugging her bony shoulders.

"It might end up that things are different. I understand that you identify as heterosexual and I also understand that you are in a relationship with Miss Weasley, but this is dangerous Potter. We are sailing uncharted waters and we cannot afford to ignore what the bond may or may not want you to do. If it comes down to it and the healer gives it the go ahead, you may not be able to stop yourselves" she said simply "I am however, aware of the gravity of that situation. I am an old woman, but I understand the lines of consent and free will – I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do not have to be in that position"

"You're fucking kidding me? Ginny's going to hate me enough as it is; besides, Malfoy and I loathe each other, there's no way in hell that we'll ever be attracted to each other in any way, shape or form," Harry said firmly and for the first time, Draco agreed with him.

"We can discuss this and the finer details at a later date, please try to remember that I am on your side during all of this. Unfortunately we cannot argue all the way through the night; for now, you can follow me. I'll show you to your new common room and dorm," she said and as Draco stood up, he felt as though he was walking straight to his death, and Potter's.

* * *

><p>"Uggh," Draco grumbled as he rolled over, squinting at the glowing alarm clock on Potter's bedside table. Three in the morning was not when he should be awake on a Saturday, plus it was fucking annoying that he could feel Potter's side of the link calm and completely wrapped up in dreams, which meant he couldn't blame his lack of sleep on him.<p>

It had been another nightmare, considerably more vivid than they had been in the last week and ten times more traumatising. He'd revisited the scene of the room of hidden things during the midst of the battle, one of the worst nights of his life. He was still ashamed that he'd let Potter save him, it only meant that the deranged Gryffindor was going to be able to rub the life debt in even more than usual. He really did hate Potter, but he hated the bond even more.

Stupid fucking fate. Seriously, did someone up there just set out to fuck up his life? The universe just loved to keep throwing shit at him. He was ready to punch someone in the face multiple times just for his lack of luck. Draco heard Potter shift under the covers and he sighed heavily, shoving his fist into his pillow to make it more comfortable.

He rubbed his forehead in irritation, trying hard to sort out his bad mood. He did not want to spend the next few weeks snapping at everyone, believe it or not. But just as he tried to ease his own headache, he felt waves of Potter's sleep edging into the corners of his psyche and he slipped back into his own slumber.

* * *

><p>"Have you spoken to Harry, Ron?" Hermione asked as she came down the steps of the girl's dormitory, longer sleeves of her baggy, thigh length boyfriend jumper clutched in her tense fists. Her hair was pulled up in a wavy, lengthy, ponytail, dark shadows under her eyes, skin flawless and pale as ever. She wore black skinny jeans and tight, calf hugging Ugg boots. Even as a tired, emotional wreck; she was completely gorgeous.<p>

"No. I tried getting up early to see McGonagall but she shouted to me about Saturday mornings and slammed the door in my face," he said with a sigh. She smiled sadly at the back of his head, manoeuvring herself around the common room sofa, perching on one of his knees.

"You tried, that's all you can do," she said softly, reaching out and pushing a strand of messy red bed hair out of his face. He closed his eyes at the contact of her finger brushing against his temple.

"You look better this morning," he observed. Her walk was more steady and confident. Harry's suicide attempt had hit her harder than everyone else and the effects of the war were still making things painful for her. But then again, it was difficult for everyone. He wasn't very good with words, he never had been, but for her, he was trying. And like she'd said, that was all he could do.

"I didn't have any nightmares last night. It's just getting to sleep that's the problem," she said, swallowing to get rid of the dryness in her throat.

"Well if you ever need any help with that, let me know," he smirked and she rolled her eyes, slapping his arm and collapsing sideways into his muscly warmth, snuggling her head in his shoulder.

"You're okay though right, I'm not losing you to the depths of darkness or anything?" he said, making quote marks with his hands. She chuckled, kissing his cheek.

"I've got you, I'm fine," she said, halfway between a croak and a laugh and he nodded, pulling her head into his shoulder and kissing her scalp through her hair.

"I love you," be breathed and he heard her whisper it back before he closed his eyes and relaxed further into her touch, hoping that everything would work itself out soon.

* * *

><p>"It's a Saturday"<p>

"Intelligent observation Potter, that wasn't stating the obvious at all, was it?" Malfoy drawled sarcastically. Potter glared at him, sitting down on the bed opposite where Draco was sat upright on his own.

"I want a shower," Potter announced.

"Go and have one then Potter, I'm not your keeper," Malfoy snapped and Potter growled, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"But the bond-"

"I think it's loose enough for us to be able to have showers in peace... unless of course the queer part of your brain is kicking in alrea-"

"Shut up Malfoy, you can't start making comments like that! If Ginny..." Potter trailed off, a distant, brooding expression cutting him off in mid-sentence. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, the left side of his mouth curling into a cruel smirk.

"Trouble in paradise Potty?" Malfoy taunted, satisfied when Harry didn't look up, but his fists clenched into balls resting on his knees.

"Don't call me that," Harry said through gritted teeth and a fiery emotion rose in him that went straight to Malfoy's already throbbing head, making him hiss. He didn't comment on it though, accepting that there would be certain things he shouldn't say or do around Potter. He knew he wouldn't want the dick saying certain things to him to trigger his temper or hate so that was the one thing he was going to have to respect. And then Draco remembered hearing Bella taunting Potter back when they'd been captured at the Manor and he realised that the crazy bitch had always used that nickname for the boy who lived.

Suddenly he felt a compelling need to stop Potter's angst. Purely for his own benefit of course.

"Just go and have your shower Potter, and calm yourself; it's a wonder they haven't shoved you in a full time mental institution with how easily you get pissy these days. Damn, it's almost boring winding you up," Draco remarked and although he could still feel the prickling of Potter's frustration, he knew the man was trying to breathe through the anger. Malfoy sighed, closing the book he was reading and crossing his legs underneath himself, sitting up properly, realising that this needed a different approach.

"Look Potter, I know, I get it okay. I know what it's like to be this pissed off at the world. I fucking hate your guts," Draco spoke firmly "but I get why you did what you did a couple of months back, so quit getting worked up about it, stop feeling guilty. I can feel it, remember? It's knocking me out of whack so stop being such a Gryffindor and get over it," Malfoy said firmly. It was probably the most frank he'd ever been with his childhood enemy and as he waited, he could feel Potter's anger fading and Draco's emotions calmed along with it "now fuck off," he shot again and Harry sighed, pulling himself up with little enthusiasm and disappearing through the door to the en-suit they owned, locking the door behind him.

For the first time, with the crack of the mechanism, Draco realised that he missed his friends.

* * *

><p>He and Potter had been bonded for a total of three days now and Draco could honestly say that they had been the worst seventy two hours of his entire life. Within the first hour of waking up in the same room, they'd managed to get into a very explosive argument which had led to Harry punching Draco, only to realise that the theory suggesting that they could feel each other's pain was true. They were both sporting equally impressive black eyes now and it was the most stressful thing Draco could remember experiencing.<p>

He didn't know what it had always been about Potter that had made him hate the kid so much. He put it down to the way Potter had rejected his attempt at friendship in front of the whole year group the first time they'd officially met. Draco had been a teenage boy; an aristocratic, hormonal teenage boy at that, and an eleven year old Draco had not taken kindly to being shot down so thoroughly and publicly. He'd never really been able to shake the way he'd felt in that moment; the humiliation of being so rich and superior, to be second choice to a family of blood traitors below the poverty line. But Draco no longer believed in such nonsense. He still hated the Weasley family, but more out of force of habit than anything else.

Whereas with Potter, it was different. There had always just been that furious feud between them, they grated against each other, that's just the way it was. Malfoy didn't like stupidly heroic people. Not that he didn't appreciate courage, he was all for the brave bullshit, unless it was going to get you killed in which case the whole thing was completely pointless.

But he couldn't help hearing the tiny memory in the back of his brain whispering to him about how he'd wanted to take Granger's place on his drawing room floor that awful day, how he'd wanted to save Charity Burbage – because really, the poor woman hadn't done anything wrong.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that Potter had an overdeveloped heroic streak. Maybe it was the Oedipus complex that got on Draco's nerves. It wasn't anything to do with him but really, who the fuck dates a girl who was practically the carbon copy of their dead mother? And the need to always be right as well, Potter was a cocky asshole. Strangely that was a Ravenclaw trait and one that Potter frequently ran into the ground; probably all the years the dick had spent with Granger, the number one know-it-all.

And Potter always wanted attention, he always had to be in the limelight one way or another. If there was anything Draco had learned from his father, it was to constantly operate a complete leave well alone policy. A bit hypocritical really considering the situation with Voldemort could have been avoided had the family gone by the motto back then.

Potter was everything that Draco wasn't, or rather it was the other way around maybe, who could really tell? All Draco knew was that Potter was just someone he would hate for the rest of his life, period. And some stupid fucking bond was not going to change that, was it?

* * *

><p>"Ron, shut up, they're coming," Hermione hissed over the table and Ron grinned cheekily.<p>

"They are, are they? I thought the healer told them they wouldn't be getting the urge to come for ages yet-"

"Shut it!" she snapped, shoving a chicken leg in his mouth as Harry arrived with Malfoy flanking him looking very awkward and pissed off.

"Harry!" she exclaimed when he sat down next to her with Malfoy next to him.

She hugged him tightly, nuzzling her cheek against his ear. She drew in a deep breath and smiled, pulling away and pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

"We missed you! We've hardly seen you these last – wait, what happened to your eye?" she asked, reaching up to prod it slightly. Harry and Malfoy both winced at the same time. Ron shook his head in disbelief and took a sip of his pumpkin juice to distract himself.

"It's so weird how that works," Neville muttered and Malfoy scowled.

"You're hardly in a position to call anything weird Shlongbottom," Malfoy retorted, making Neville flush scarlet.

"Shut it Malfoy," Harry hissed out the side of his mouth, leaning his elbows on the table and getting more comfortable.

'_Well he's a prick_'

Harry's elbow slipped off the table dramatically as he jumped out of his skin like an electric current had passed through his body.

"What the fuck Potter?" Malfoy exclaimed and Hermione frowned.

"Harry, what's the matter?" she asked.

"N-nothing. It's - it's nothing, forget it," he said, eyes still wide. Hermione looked concerned but let it drop, figuring Harry still didn't really want to talk about the situation very much. Someone cleared their throat from behind Neville and Harry looked up, green eyes narrowing slightly from alarm to discomfort and uncertainty.

"Ginny," he said, nodding his head once.

"Harry, Malfoy," she acknowledged darkly, smiling kindly at Neville when the boy moved up to give her some room to sit down.

"So what's everyone doing today then?" Hermione asked, breaking the awkward silence and Ron smiled.

"I thought we could go to Hogsmede later; I know Seamus and Dean are coming now they've finally managed to pull themselves away from each other's beds," he teased and Seamus leaned forward from a little distance up the table.

"At least I get some," he bit back playfully in his Irish accent and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Ignore him, he's just upset because he lost his lucky charms again," she replied and a few people laughed.

"I'll get you back for that one later Granger," he called and she grinned smugly.

"Bring it Finnigan"

Harry watched as Hermione gently bickered with him for a little while, and he felt a smile spreading across his lips. She looked better, healthier; like she was on the mend.

"Harry, what are you doing today?" Ginny asked pointedly and he clicked his jaw, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Got a bunch of homework to get through," Harry replied as casually as he could and Malfoy snorted.

"He's pissed off because we couldn't agree on anything so we've had to settle for doing homework," Malfoy muttered under his breath and Harry stomped on his foot under the table, making them both wince.

"Dammit Potter," he cursed.

"Am I going to get a slap if I say that was funny?" Ron asked, holding back giggles and Hermione nodded.

"We're going now anyway, I'm bored," Malfoy said and Harry scowled.

"I'm with my friends Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth and he shrugged.

"Exactly, hence the boredom," he replied, standing up so that Harry had no choice but to follow him.

"I'm sorry guys, I'll make this up to you soon I promise... Gin-"

"I'll talk to you later," she interrupted bitterly in a cold, withdrawn voice that made his heart clench painfully. He wanted to say something but Malfoy was already halfway down the Gryffindor isle and Harry did not want to end up in the hospital with an aneurism.

* * *

><p>"One of these day's Malfoy-"<p>

"You'll realise that you're in love with me like the rest of the world but I'll refuse you and you'll try to jump off a cliff, yada, yada, yada," he said sarcastically and Harry scowled.

"You're not making this easy-"

"I'm not the one that keeps hurting us Potter, think about it; I haven't flipped out dramatically once yet, but you've already given us a black eye, not to mention that you almost beat me to death two months ago," Malfoy snapped, walking faster so Harry was jogging to keep up with him.

"I apologised for that," Harry pointed out and Malfoy stopped abruptly, turning to face him, blue eyes narrowed and hateful.

"You've been apologising a lot lately haven't you Potter? Has it even occurred to you that I might be just as terrified as you are?" he said, his voice still harsh and biting but it had quietened right down so that no one could hear apart from Harry "I don't want to have _sex_ with you Potter, just thinking about it makes me want to be sick. But it might be unavoidable, we might be _stuck_ with each other forever, and we might be forced into fucking each other even though we'll basically be _raping_ each other," he hissed, each syllable sharp and broken "as much as I hate you, I have watched that happen before and I couldn't stop it – I don't want to _rape_ you, I don't want to rape _anyone_, I think it's absolutely disgusting and _I _don't want to be raped either, because my mother is a rape victim and she has _never_ recovered from it"

"I'm not scared," Harry denied feebly and Malfoy scoffed, shaking his head.

"Bullshit, we have no idea what this thing is really, we have no idea if we can control it or what it's going to do. This is beyond us Potter, this isn't a joke anymore," Malfoy continued and Harry closed his eyes, clicking his jaw again.

"Fine, so we're both terrified; but we argue Malfoy, that's what we _do_," Harry shrugged helplessly. Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Let's just go back to the room, do homework, and not talk," he said eventually. Not talking. Harry could live with that.

"Oh yes, and what was that little stunt you played back then? You looked like someone had walked over your grave," Malfoy asked, still irritated. As they began on their walk back to the dorm.

"Did you call Neville a prick back there?" Harry asked and Malfoy's eyebrows hit the top of his head.

"Not out loud, no" he said, dumbstruck.

"Come on, we need to get back to the room," Harry said, taking Malfoy's elbow gently and speeding up their pace.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy, can you just... just go sit in the bathroom for a minute?" Harry asked and there was a tenseness to Potter's voice that made Malfoy glare at Ginny before dropping his book on the bedside table and slamming the en-suit door behind him. Ginny sat on Malfoy's bed, Harry on his own and they faced each other, not really knowing what to say.<p>

"I'm breaking up with you," she announced and Harry's eyes slid shut for a second as he brought a hand up to rub them tiredly behind his glasses "you don't look upset or surprised," she accused vindictively and he swallowed, looking back up at her, eyebrows furrowed.

"Well for one, I'm pretty sure I dumped you about a year ago, and we've sort of been flitting around each other since then – secondly, what did you honestly expect? You want me to cry and beg you not to go? You want me to shout or scream and slap you for being an idiot? No Ginny," he said in a soft, yet annoyed tone "as much as I love you, I can't even deal with _myself_ right now, let alone someone like you, I just got out of a mental hospital," he continued and her eyes widened and then narrowed, growing very angry and cruel. Her fiery hair stood on end.

"Seriously?" she said in outrage "I at least a little more sadness or remorse Harry! We did love each other, we were in a fucking relationship, and you know full well it wasn't a schoolgirl crush," she snapped "but now I'm stuck because I can't break up with you without sounding naive and jilted"

He scoffed bitterly.

"This ended the moment I left to go into hiding Ginny, the moment I dumped you the first time really," he sighed and her jaw dropped as he carried on talking "I mean – jesus, you know I love you, you know I care about you. This is purely selfish, we can't be in a relationship at the moment – I'm bonded to Draco Malfoy for Merlin's sake!"

"No! No way! You are not taking my dignity away from me. I'm dumping you now. Back then, you only told me that you couldn't be with me, it's not the same thing," she shouted and Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling, tipping his head back. He could understand why she was upset, it was sad. He was going to miss her. He did miss her. Well, he missed the way she used to make him feel more than he actually missed being in a relationship with her to be honest. As much as he didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to stay with her right now either.

"See, this is why I can't deal with you right now Ginny; this argument is more about you trying to save your dignity and making it out that you dumped me first. Just tell people that you've dumped me because you don't love me anymore. I don't care, you _have_ just dumped me I suppose. But please, just… no drama," he said, not looking her in the eye. The hitch in her breath made him have to swallow. He was telling the truth when he said he loved her, he didn't like it when she cried, he never had done – she was so animated and compassionate, someone like that should never have to cry. But this was just the way it had to be, as cliché as it sounded.

"No drama? Do you even hear yourself? Harry, you want to break up, but you don't want any drama out of it. You want me to make it easy for you? Fine, but don't ask me to be your friend Harry, you screwed me over," she yelled, kicking the bed as she made to leave.

"Fuck sake, I'm sorry! I can't help it!" he shouted after her as the door slammed shut.

"Well that went well," Malfoy smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom.

"Shut it Malfoy," Harry shot.

"Calm it then Potter, I get that you're in full blown ripper mode lately but you're just making this thing ten times worse by blowing up at things you don't need to be blowing up at. If she wants to act like a love struck thirteen year old then let her, she's not worth the stress," Malfoy said with a shrug and an amused smirk.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy seeing Potter loose his rag; that was normally his favourite part of the day. The only difference now was, that he could feel all those emotions on top of his own and together their mind-set was not in a good place still so soon after the war.

"Seriously though Malfoy, we can't hole ourselves up in here just because we can't agree on where to go on weekends," Harry said, bowing his head and cradling it in his hands.

"You make us sound like an old married couple," Malfoy teased and Harry shot him another venomous glare.

"Fine Potter, what do you suggest?" he asked, sitting down on his own bed again, careful not to bounce the open bottle of ink supporting the quill he'd been using for his potions essay.

"We could at least get some fresh air, take the homework down to the lake or something," he said, moving around to pick up some stray clothes as he went.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. He didn't want to spend the day with Potter in the slightest but he was forced to and to be honest, they really weren't doing themselves much good staying hidden in their room all the time. He did want some fresh air and the weather wasn't half bad considering they were getting closer to summer every day.

"Fine but we're still not talking," he replied and Harry nodded as they both began to gather the documents they needed to complete their coursework.

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful Saturday actually and the sun shined gloriously over the grounds of Hogwarts. Most of the seventh year students had branched out off campus but everyone in the years below them had taken to the same idea of Harry and Draco and had found spots for sunbathing whilst they struggled with the huge amount of work that came with having both Slughorn and Snape for potions teachers.<p>

"Harry, you're looking exceptionally brooding today," Luna grinned, dropping down next to Potter and Draco rolled his eyes, concentrating harder on his book.

"Thanks Luna, you don't look so bad yourself," Potter replied in an amused voice and Draco wondered how the hell people managed to deal with the weird girl.

"Where's Ron and Hermione?" she asked and Draco could feel her big blue eyes on him intently as he tried harder than ever to ignore her presence completely._ She_ might have forgotten what her time in the manor had been like but he hadn't, he still couldn't get the sound of her screams out of his head along with many others.

"They went to Hogsmede with Dean and Seamus," he replied and Luna chuckled.

"Aren't they both the cutest couples ever?" she fawned and Harry nodded, an exasperated grin on his face. Draco allowed himself a quick glance upwards and was a little startled when he saw Potter looking the happiest he'd appeared to be in weeks.

"Yeah, they are - wait, why aren't you with Neville or Ginny?" he asked curiously and she shrugged.

"Ginny's still in the dormitory smashing things up after your argument and Neville got all frightened and flustered and left to talk to McGonagall about some kind of event they're planning soon," Luna informed and Harry nodded.

"He's liking his head boy status then," he observed and Luna nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yes, he's very good at being head," she said and Draco managed to disguise his snort as a cough, wondering if the girl knew she sounded filthy half the time.

"Hello Draco," Luna said softly and Draco was so taken aback by her acknowledgment, he snapped his head up to fast and the muscles in his neck contracted painfully. Harry hissed and glared at him.

"Dude how many times? That hurts!" Harry exclaimed but Draco was just looking at Luna now like she'd danced around in a dress made of clown teddies singing total eclipse of the heart.

"You look better now but you've still got lots of wrackspurts buzzing around your head," she said happily and his mouth opened slightly, eyebrows raising high again for the third time that morning "how's your Mother?" she asked shamelessly like they hadn't tortured her and starved her for weeks on end only months ago.

"Don't you hate me?" Draco asked quietly, completely stunned and she looked genuinely confused.

"Why would I hate you Draco? You never directly harmed me and I know you regret everything. Besides, you have a good heart," she said confidently, the smile staying in place the whole time. Harry choked on a scoff and smiled fondly at Luna "what's the matter Harry? Don't you think Draco's a good person?" she asked, not effected by the awkwardness her question was evoking at all.

"I...umm... well..."

"Oh right, I see, I'm being untactful... Daddy told me about not doing that. Right, I just wanted to see if you were okay Harry, I haven't seen you much lately and I miss you," she said. Harry, grateful for the change in subject, nodded.

"I know, I'm sorry I've got a lot on. Why don't you stay here for a bit; McGonagall insisted that I had to take divination and I still don't have a clue about any of it," he said.

Luna smiled kindly and gestured for him to lift his arm so she could get comfortable next to him. She sat against his side, leaning her head against his shoulder and began pointing out his mistakes for him.

Draco watched sneakily from behind his book as they both laughed occasionally, teasing as Potter smiled at her abnormality. He could feel Potter's emotions soothing down from being tense and tired, to small waves of happiness and calm. It was completely foreign and something Draco was not used to. He actually found himself envying the Gryffindors.

He had friends in Slytherin no doubt and he loved Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle like they were is brothers. Pansy was kind of his friends with benefits girl and he did love her in his own little way. But no one in Slytherin would sit around like that together, cuddling unless they were actually and official item which was very rare.

Draco caught himself staring and returned to his essay, a new feeling swelling in his heart.

Loneliness.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh hey Ginny, Luna wanted to borrow my book on... wait, are you okay?" Hermione paused in mid-sentence, frowning, confused as to why the younger girl would be in a dorm for eighth year students.

"No, I'm not talking to anyone," she announced, chin resting on her chest, fingers playing with the hem of her Gryffindor tie, face stained with tears. Hermione sighed, having just come from having a small chat with Harry in which he'd filled her in on what was going on between them. He'd actually asked Hermione to keep an eye on Ginny and make sure she did okay. Hermione had damn near slapped him – Harry was compassionate and brave, but when it came to women, he really was clueless sometimes. Ginny didn't need looking after, not really – she was one of the strongest women Hermione knew, she'd do fine on her own, eventually. It was just a bonus, having friends there to lay in bed with you and carry you through the initial pain.

"I know you love him, but-" Hermione began gently, putting a supportive hand on Ginny's outstretched ankle. Ginny cut her off however, glaring.

"No I don't," she growled despite the tears rolling silently down her cheeks "I fucking hate him"

"No you don't," Hermione smiled sadly, drawing in a deep breath and moving onto her knees, crawling up the bed and settling in beside her friend, pulling Ginny's body against her own, listening to her sniffling for a moment as she ran her hands softly through her red hair "you love him. Its okay you know, it's alright to admit that you love someone who just doesn't feel the same about you anymore – there's no loss of dignity in it. It is what it is, and it doesn't mean you're any less who you are because you feel wronged or sad about it. I doubt Harry is simply moving on without a seconds thought either – you know he cares about you still-"

"I know he does," Ginny coughed, sniffing a few more times as she nuzzled her cheek against Hermione's collarbone and wrapped herself tighter around her friend, drawing all the warmth she could from her "that's the worse part. It was so humiliating 'Mione, it was like he couldn't even look at me. And when I left he couldn't even think of something decent to say, he just yelled at my back that he couldn't help it, and that he was sorry," she tried to say in a solid voice, although she failed miserably and just ended up sobbing slightly "I'm terrible in the relationship department! Do I just have a label on my forehead saying 'losers come here'? The only decent boyfriend I ever had turned out to be gay!" Ginny cried helplessly and Hermione chuckled tenderly, pressing a rough kiss to the top of her scalp.

"Things are going to be okay Gin, you're a strong woman and if there's anyone who can get through this, it's you. And you don't need a man, you're independent and you know it. Wipe your eyes," Hermione said, brushing her thumb over the tears on Ginny's cheekbone and pressing a kiss to her nose.

"I'm being silly aren't I?" she said and Hermione shook her head absolutely.

"No way," she insisted "you're entitled to have a good old cry about it. But when you're done, we're all going out for a meal in the three broomsticks tonight, you can come with us if you'd like," Hermione encouraged, sitting up and pulling Ginny up with her.

"Thank's Hermione," Ginny replied "but I think I'm gonna pass. I'll get some ice cream from the kitchens and do some homework, then get an early night," she said, ducking her head for a moment and pulling in a discreetly grounding breath through her chapped lips. Hermione smiled again, reaching out and cupping her face momentarily.

"Fred would want you to be happy," she breathed and Ginny sighed, swallowing heavily in an effort not to start crying again "and I want you to be happy. You will be, eventually, but for now, do whatever you need to do"

"Can we just lay here for a bit, until you need to start getting ready?" Ginny asked sheepishly. Hermione grinned, nodding and laying back against the pillows, pulling Ginny with her. Cuddles were always good, and Hermione had done research into recovery after the war, and there was actually medical proof that it boosted the immune system, which

"I don't need to be ready for another couple of hours, but you can help me if you like, I need all hands on deck if I want to battle my hair into submission"

* * *

><p>"Potter, is there any way that we-"<p>

"You want to go and spend time with your friends," he assumed warily, guessing what Malfoy's question was going to be. He paused for a second, his brow furrowing before he nodded once.

'_Shit_'

Harry jumped again, glaring at Malfoy.

"Cut it with that mind thing; it creeps me out," he snapped and Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"I can't help it if you're tuned in on Malfoy frequency Potter, I'm not _making_ you hear my thoughts," he shot back and Harry sighed, resisting the urge not to slam his fist into the pillar of his four poster bed.

"What's 'shit' anyway?" Harry asked to distract himself and Malfoy shrugged, glaring at the floor now.

"Everything," he said curtly. Harry was a little startled to find that actually, this was one of the first things he and Malfoy had agreed on. He couldn't quite believe that he was about to add something else to that list.

"Well, I was going to _say_, why don't we see my friends on Saturday and then yours on Sunday? That is, of course, if they even give up their attitude long enough to sit in the same room as me for a couple of hours" he reasoned.

"And what makes _you_ think the Gryffindors will want to see _me_?" Malfoy countered.

"They won't _want_ to see you, but they'll be polite and they'll tolerate you because they love me"

Malfoy faked a gagging sound and Harry bit his tongue so he couldn't say anything and start yet another argument.

"Fine then, your little Unicorns on Saturday, my Snakes on a Sunday," Draco said and Harry shook his head.

"The emblem is a lion Malfoy, not a Unicorn," he said, fighting not to smile at the comical way in which he'd described the Gryffindors. He didn't like it when Malfoy insulted his friends but some of the things he could come up with sometimes would have Harry trying with all his might not to laugh; which was a shame because a little laughter between them would make the whole situation ten times easier. It would also probably make the whole situation ten times more awkward and embarrassing.

"That's the same bloody thing when it comes to you lot," he shrugged and Harry simply smirked, standing up.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

"For a meal in the three broomsticks with the '_Unicorns_', so put something decent on," Harry grinned mischievously, pulling his shirt over his head shamelessly and disappearing into the en-suit without a backwards glance. Draco scowled when he realised he'd just agreed to it, it was still Saturday after all.

Great, he could hardly contain his fucking happiness.

* * *

><p>Harry sighed, breathing in deeply and letting calm wash over him as much as possible. Malfoy was irritated and Harry could feel it even if the young blonde was sat at the bar away from the group. He was trying to concentrate as much as he could on the conversation but his skin felt all papery and itchy and he was getting this dull throbbing behind his eye sockets that kinda vaguely made him want to throw up.<p>

"Mum was pretty sympathetic though," Seamus said with a soft shrug and Dean smiled fondly, taking a swig from his glass of Firewhiskey.

"_My_ Mum fucking loves you; she did a little squeal and jumped up and down when I brought him home and told her," Dean grinned and Seamus smirked, leaning back with his arm resting across Dean's chair, one of Dean's hands resting comfortably on the inside of his thigh.

"My dad just raised his eyebrows and said 'finally'," he remarked. Harry couldn't help laughing despite the migraine he was trying to conceal – at least half of Gryffindor had been betting on Seamus and Dean getting together since they were fourteen.

Harry had been convinced that the two would end up with their tongues down each other's throats at the yule ball, but alas, they'd simply skitted around each other all evening, making up for sexual frustration with banter and bad jokes. Of course, once the butterbeer started flowing, their smiles had become more obvious and whilst they'd proved half the room wrong by not ending up on the dance floor together, Harry had caught the two of them making out in a broom closet in the last year of their education before the war after Dean had broken up with Ginny. Ron had had to give him ten galleons (Harry had tried to refuse it of course, but Ron had insisted, despite bruised pride and a new appreciation for Harry's well timed guess work). Then Harry had rushed off to find Ginny and make sure she was alright of course.

"Molly did the squealing thing when Ron told her about Hermione," Harry laughed and Hermione hid her face in her hands as everyone made teasing noises at her.

"She did! My mum was bloody ecstatic, I think she's already planning a wedding," he said and Hermione shook her head.

"As much as I love your mother, _I _will be planning the wedding whenever one is to occur, and I am going to take a leaf out of Fred's book and put a body bind curse on her," Hermione insisted and they laughed again just as the waitress began putting the plates of food on the table.

Harry found himself zoning out of the conversation as it carried easily from reminiscing about couply things, to fitness regimes and how Seamus was getting a bit of a gut on him, but Dean was a slight health nut and would go for a run every morning. Hermione mentioned something about a muggle gym, and Seamus asked her about it, which lead onto fitness videos and what a video even was. Dean helped her explain so Harry didn't really need to do much work, and he sort of found himself flitting between thoughts, occasionally sipping his wine, listening in mildly on Malfoy's flirty conversations with the new barmaid and rolling his eyes at the cheesy lines being thrown between the two.

"Oh my god, this food is epic," Dean said and Ron nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"Uggh, you two are complete pigs," Hermione and Harry jumped when Malfoy's mocking noise of agreement echoed in his brain.

"I'm a cute one though," Dean grinned widely, and Harry had to admit, watching his friend pout with a mouthful of cheesecake from across the table, he was right.

'_You're definitely gay Potter_'

"He's not wrong there," Hermione said. Seamus copied his boyfriend by shovelling as much food in his mouth as possible and posing ridiculously as Hermione held her muggle mobile up to take a picture. The device didn't normally work on Hogwarts grounds, but Harry was pretty sure she'd worked out a spell to deflect the energy that confused the technology a long time ago.

'_I am not gay Malfoy_'

Harry thought back furiously, but all he heard was a small noise of amusement behind him. With panic in his chest and a sweat breaking out on his forehead, he tried to focus on his plate and chewing the leftover apple turnover in his mouth.

'_You've had one girlfriend Potter, and I'll bet my entire inheritance that you're still a virgin_'

Harry knew what Malfoy was doing of course, the man was bored so he was taunting Harry for entertainment.

'_I dated Cho Chang as well_' he tried to argue in his head, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, thankful for the banter being exchanged by his friends so that they wouldn't notice his sudden red cheeks and short breath.

'_And she thought you had the hots for Granger, seriously; dumb Asians and overly busty, bitter red heads that look suspiciously like your dead mother for failed relationships? You are definitely gay_'

"You okay?" Hermione asked, her hand landing on his knee as she looked at him with a worried expression, making him flinch slightly. He gathered himself, drawing in a deep breath again, nodding and putting on a fake smile.

"Yeah I'm fine; just a little tired," he replied, patting her hand and for a second, he saw her intuitive gaze flicker over to Malfoy who was downing yet another glass of whiskey and continuing to chat up the bar maid.

"Have you discussed your… relationship yet?" she asked in a low voice while the rest of the table ate and talked.

"There is no _relationship_ Hermione, we knew this from the start; he hates me," Harry said back insistently, his voice a little too high and strained for him to really be appearing as someone who was perfectly relaxed. She frowned, looking over to Malfoy again and then back.

"But do you hate him?" she asked, meeting his gaze head on. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. His brain was jilted, paused in complete standstill and he knew Draco was probably getting some sort of headache from it but – oh god since when had he started calling him Draco? He hated him! Harry Potter hated Draco Malfoy.

So why couldn't he just fucking say it already?

"You know what I think Harry?" Hermione sighed softly, keeping very voice on the down low "I think that sometimes, _we _are just as bad as _they_ are with our prejudices. I think that we talk the talk about equality and acceptance and yet we're _still_ judging people by their past mistakes-"

"Past mistakes? Hermione, the guy stood by and watched whilst a crazy psychopath carved the word 'mudblood' into your arm with a blade forged with dark magic!" Harry hissed in a low whisper "he listened to you screaming and he didn't do a thing about it," and she nodded patiently, taking his hand. She cupped his face affectionately and smiled again. Harry glanced nervously around the table at the rest of his friends – if they'd noticed that something was up, they were graciously ignoring it, and were tucking into their deserts, drinking the wine, and chatting about something to do with muggle radio and two internet guys called Dan and Phil.

"I know Harry, I know, and I will never forget the way he treated me. But don't you think that my screams haunt _him_ at night just as much as they haunt me, you, and Ron? I think I can forgive Malfoy, if I try hard enough. I just feel - I feel like there's too much hate in the world, and continuing to do the very thing we fought against for seven years is completely hypocritical. Malfoy is... complicated. I'm still very angry with him for what he said to me when you hurt yourself a couple of months ago – this whole thing is so fucking _complicated_ – but did you ever think that he might be just as terrified as you are?" she said and once again, none of the others had noticed a thing. He thought back to the conversation after he'd first, accidently heard Draco's thoughts at breakfast only a week previous, and he remembered their conversation, feeling a jolt in the pit of his stomach at how much they both really didn't want this bond to get any stronger and make them do… stuff.

"Ask me if I hate him again," Harry sighed. She smirked proudly.

"Do you hate him?" she asked and slowly, only once, Harry shook his head.

"No- no, no. I – I don't hate him," Harry said and to get the words out of his lips was a struggle but he knew they were true "I don't trust him," he added "but I don't – no, I don't think I hate him anymore. I can't really, I have to live with him"

* * *

><p>Draco sat back, rubbing his eyes stressfully as he tried to make sense of the runes he was supposed to be translating. Honestly, he had no idea how he managed to keep his grades up with all the drama in his life but-<p>

A loud crash sounded from behind one of the bookshelves and Draco hunched over, clutching his diaphragm in intense pain as he gripped the table so he wouldn't fall off his chair.

"Dray?" Blaise said, immediately by his side, crouched, clutching his shoulder worriedly.

"Dray, your uh – your nose is bleeding," Pansy said as she knelt in front of him, pushing his chin up gently to look at his face. Draco's eyes widened and anger filled his stomach, pumping through his veins and something else alongside it, something he hadn't felt in a long time – the need to protect. He ignored the cuts appearing on his face as he felt every blow; he was on his feet, marching around to the bookshelf.

Without a seconds thought or hesitation, he pulled Knott off Potter pinning him harshly up against the shelf by the cuff of his shirt, getting right in his face so their breaths were mingling. Draco had to fight to push away the stabbing feeling in his ribs, and it only angered him further.

"Oh look if it isn't lover boy coming to the rescue-"

"Shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you Theo," Draco hissed, spit spraying over Knott's cheeks as his face contorted with rage. Potter was being pulled away from the scene by Weasley and Finnigan but he knew they would only be able to stabilise him at the library tables; Potter couldn't leave for a breather because they weren't allowed to not be in the same room.

"You've forgotten your place Malfoy," Knott said, sadistic smirk quirking the left side of his bloody mouth and somewhere in his head, he congratulated Potter on his strength, Theo was worse off than they were. Draco slammed Theo's body into the wood, causing a few books to thud loudly to the floor, feeling satisfied when his fellow Slytherin winced in pain.

"Draco, come and check on-"

"Screw you Pansy," Theo said sideways "screw you too," he growled at Blaise, losing dignity fast "in fact, screw each other-" Draco decided he'd had enough of listening to Theo's voice, pulling back his leg and shoving it full pelt into his classmate's testicles, moving away from him and watching as the boy arched his back forward into the impact, falling to the floor in a foetal position, clutching his crotch desperately, squeaking out pathetic little noises of pain.

Reign it in, Draco told himself, struggling to catch his breath. It felt like it was going to explode from him again – the all too familiar sensation of fury building in his spine, gaining a foothold in his chest. He snarled, slamming his fist into the bookshelf in an attempt to prevent himself from further kicking the shit out of Knott. Pull it back, he continued to try and keep it at bay, calm it. It took him a few deep, shaky breaths and a wary, yet angry looking Pansy shakily manoeuvring him away from the scene before he could even register what had happened properly. Blaise gently pushed him into a library chair and automatically began examining his wounds and bruises, Pansy taking care of the splintered rib. He glanced sideways as Potter slapped away Ginny's hand and glared at Weasley before his gaze flickered to Malfoy's.

'_You okay_?' Potter asked via the link, and with that composed, slightly strained voice somewhere in his head. Draco was able to nod once and truthfully while his friends treated his injuries.

'_What did he say_?' Draco asked, beginning to make sense of everything as Potter allowed Granger to place an ice pack on his forehead.

'_He called my mother a mudblood_' the previously composed tone had vanished and the voice was harsh and unbalanced and now Draco understood – It wasn't him who was so incredibly shaky, it was Potter. Potter was shaking like a leaf. Bruce Banner indeed.

'_You nearly lost control_?' Draco asked simply and as he closed his eyes to allow Pansy to pop his shoulder back into place. Potter grunted in pain, feeling his own bone click at the action.

'_Nearly_'

* * *

><p>"Mr Malfoy, if you could just wait in the other room," McGonagall said politely but firmly – the words should have formed a question, but it was more of a demand, and he knew she was sending him away so she could give Potter a slap on the wrist.<p>

"I don't think so," he retorted, standing his ground "I was involved in this too, I got the shit beaten out of me as well, so I want to know what's happening. _I_ hurt Knott as well," he admitted slowly, fighting not to hang his head at the fierce glare the old woman was fixing him with. She looked at him for a few long seconds before she swallowed, nodding stiffly, gesturing for Potter and Draco to sit in the chairs next to each other on the other side of her desk. She took her seat delicately, lacing her own fingers together on her lap and straightening her back.

"I understand that there was an incident this afternoon boys," she began, drawing in a breath that illustrated how very not happy she was with the entire situation. Well, honestly, it wasn't like Draco was fucking skipping around with daisies about the whole thing – his diaphragm was still aching and his face felt weirdly hollow where the skin had been loosely healed over.

"Knott's a douchebag, he insulted my mother-"

"Mr Potter, hold your tongue," she snapped "I know what Mr Knott said and I am fully aware of why that would upset you. What I do not understand is why Mr Malfoy would so abruptly snap and hurt someone who was presumably his friend. Explain Draco," she requested patiently and Malfoy gave her a dark look, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The old bat already knew the answer to that, he could see it in her eyes, she just wanted him to say it out loud. Why did everyone always want him to say things out loud?

Not to mention she was one of the only people he'd never been able to outright lie to.

"Theo was beating up Potter," he said simply, as though that was the only words needed. She frowned, nodding again.

"I know this," she spoke carefully "and I know Mr Potter was giving as good as he was getting but – why?" she asked him again and Draco clenched his jaw, trying to keep under control when Potter was also staring at him gaging for a reaction.

"Look, I don't particularly enjoy getting busted up just because Hulk can't keep his freaking temper at bay," he snapped, not liking the pressure he was under to answer so fast and truthfully, something which he couldn't actually do because honestly, he had no idea why he'd triggered so hard when Theo was hurting Potter. He tried his hardest to tell himself that it was because Knott was consequently hurting him as well but somewhere inside his head a voice that didn't seem to be his own, or Potter's, told him that it was a bunch of bullshit.

"Have a biscuit Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said and Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Have a – what?" he exclaimed in confusion and she pushed the bowl of gingernuts towards him with a single withered finger. Potter was smirking about something and amusement was flashing in the headmistresses eyes behind her glasses; Draco felt a little irked that the two had a private joke.

'_Just take the biscuit_' Potter thought and Draco let his expression drop before he refused the biscuit, shaking his head once.

"I don't want a fucking biscuit, this is ridiculous. I want to know what our punishment is," he spat, sitting up straighter and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in irritation.

"Watch your language Malfoy, do not forget that I am your teacher, not your Mother," she said in a hard tone, the amusement remaining as a sparkle in her soft pupils "although I doubt you are even brave enough to refer to your mother as such," she added. He dug his nails into the arms of the chair he was sitting in, but did as he was told, swallowing as much of his pride as he could.

"If you could just tell us what we'll be doing and then we can get out of your hair Professor," Potter interjected; looking reproachfully at Draco.

"Don't give me those judgy eyes Potter, you're the reason we're here," Malfoy snapped under his breath and he felt a flicker of frustration on Potter's part before McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Very well then boys, you can both attend one week's detention together with Professor Snape cleaning out the spare cauldrons-"

"You're fucking kidding me?" Potter's voice went from calm and cool to angry and outraged in a split second.

"No Mr Potter I am not 'fucking kidding' and for the hundredth time, watch your language! Theodore however will be isolated for a month and will attend classes in private sessions with a tutor. He will also be issued with a formal warning from the ministry," she informed.

"Why are the Ministry warning him?" Draco asked curiously, not truthfully having a problem with his potions master/godfather, and less pissed off with their lot now he knew their detentions would be with him.

"Racism is illegal now Draco. They can't arrest everyone for having views, but voicing them and causing situations like this – it isn't right, and we all know it," she said once and Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to ease the headache their black eye was causing "on another note, I have been meaning to ask, how are things going?" she inquired, relaxing a little in her chair.

"It's none of your business-"

"Better Professor – we're uh – things are calming down now, with the rest of the school I mean," Potter interrupted again, stopping Draco before he could get them into even more trouble.

"Can we go now?" Malfoy ignored Harry's disapproving glance and made to stand up.

"I'm assigning you a healer, she'll explain things in greater detail and will help you with any issues the two of you are faced with," McGonagall announced and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Great, someone else who has to know everything about me," he mumbled, already halfway out of the room.

"Sure – just let us know when," Harry said half-heartedly, nodding to their headmistress and following after him, closing the door behind them.

"Oh Albus," McGonagall sighed, hunching a little the moment her students left her office "I never know what to do with those two, I never feel as though they're making any progress," she breathed, bowing her head as a soft chuckle sounded from the portrait above her head.

"But don't you see Minerva? They are! Did you not notice that they sat here today after Draco had indirectly defended Harry, and not once did they shout at each other? Yes, they snapped and disagreed but they have – they have a dynamic. This is good Minnie, they're learning to live with each other," Albus smiled, the twinkle in his eyes sparkling in the candle light like he knew something she didn't.

"Malfoy wasn't defending Harry! He was defending himself," she exclaimed throwing her hands up in exasperation and Albus shook his head, his smile growing.

"Draco was angry more with the fact that Harry had been hurt by a fellow Slytherin than he was with the issue of his own pain, he just doesn't know it yet. Just keep an eye on them Minnie, I feel as though what we initially expected for their future is about to change very drastically, and we want them to be safe when it does"

* * *

><p>"Malfoy? You still awake?" Potter whispered through the darkness.<p>

"You know I am Potter," he snapped. It was true, they were learning to distinguish more what the other was feeling or the situations they were in.

"I was just thinking, you make a lot of references to Muggle literature and film – how?" Potter asked a little hesitantly, wondering if he would receive an angry retort or not. There was a dead silence for a few minutes where only Draco's shallow breathing could be heard before a deeper breath was taken through his teeth.

'_My mother – my mother used to read Hardy to me in secret. She brought me Marvel comics when I was a kid. For god sake Potter, just go the fuck to sleep_' the voice in his head was weak and strangely vulnerable. It was too much for Harry to handle, too out of character, too strange. There was no way on earth that Malfoy would let his fingers touch something even remotely Muggle. However, if Harry thought about it properly, Malfoy had not called Hermione a mudblood for... well, at least two years. Maybe, just maybe, the young aristocrat had changed, just a little.

So he did exactly what Malfoy had told him to and he went to sleep. And as always, Malfoy allowed the soft weaving of Potter's subconscious to lull him into a more peaceful slumber.

* * *

><p>Slowly, summer began to fade and once again the beginnings of a bitter cold started to seep thickly into the air surrounding Hogwarts. Frost could be seen gathering on top of the mountains and the giant squid had not been seen above the slightly frozen surface of the lake for weeks. Hermione had started using her fire in the jar trick during lessons while they worked and she'd shown Harry how to do it so he and Malfoy wouldn't get cold sat together bickering at the back of almost every class.<p>

Harry had not said anything about Draco's confession about the Muggle comics, choosing not to dwell on it as most of the time it gave him a headache, and then Malfoy would get curious and try to search his thoughts again. So they survived mostly on steely, embarrassed silences and sessions of arguing over tiny things that turned into icy silences, which made it even more awkward. However, Harry could feel the whole thing becoming more normal, more usual by the day.

He was trying to forget about how unfair it was that fate should put him in such a situation straight after he'd won a war at the age of just seventeen, as it normally only caused him even more anger and earned him a heated quip from Draco about being a 'self-obsessed emo boy'. But despite the cold, dull demeanour hanging over Hogwarts, the sun continued to shine with that awful white colour that winter gave it, and more often than not, it was just annoying and garish and it darkened his mood further.

"Potter, you're daydreaming again. I can't focus when your brain is buzzing at me," Malfoy huffed through gritted teeth, looking up at him from the essay on the viridi lucerna for Herbology, a plant that, at full maturity, will glow bright enough to lead a stranded human through the middle of the snow storms of the Atlantic.

"Sorry, I'm brooding again aren't I?" he sighed and Malfoy's expression softened ever so slightly, a smirk playing at his lips as he nodded.

"Since when did you let me insult you so easily? Are you going soft on me, Potter?" he asked smugly and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I let you insult me since you started being right – well, about the mood thing anyway. I'm in this funk and it's really pissing me off," he pouted, slumping back in the armchair of their sitting room. Malfoy scoffed.

"Yes," he replied sarcastically "I've noticed. I don't care what's bothering you Potter, just quit being all murky; you remember what it lead to last time," Malfoy said, blue eyes subconsciously flickering down to the scars on his pale knuckles where he'd hit him on their first week.

"You're a heartless bastard sometimes Malfoy," Harry sighed, and Malfoy shrugged, not smiling or scowling, just looking. Something like that wasn't even an insult to Malfoy, it was a fucking compliment. Which was really quite fucked up if Harry thought about it properly.

"Got nothing to lose," Malfoy said in a rough tone, returning to his essay.

Harry continued to watch him though, wondering why he had never noticed the reasons behind Malfoy and his vendetta against the world before. He supposed, in a non-gay, normal, completely not-creepy way, that Malfoy was reasonably attractive. His face was always so intense. The whole concept of Malfoy was ridiculously intense though, in everything that he did or said or looked at. His jaw wasn't really pointy anymore and his skin – well, Harry had no idea how Malfoy had escaped adolescence without a single teenage spot, but it was flawless, almost like porcelain; and ghostly pale, kind of translucent. His lips were average sized and surprisingly darker than the rest of his complexion, although not by much. His nose was dead straight and angular. His eyes were ice cold and a striking cool water blue, quite unique actually. His hair seemed to have grown out more now as well, and it hung over his face slightly if he forgot to push it out of the way now and again. Now Harry was looking properly, it wasn't completely platinum blonde anymore either – maybe a little dustier now, with time. It was always clean though, and silky looking. Not that Harry had a fetish for silky hair or anything of course.

Malfoy's wardrobe choices had changed as well, and Harry knew that it was muggle inspired. More often than not, Malfoy would wear fitted jeans with some kind of turtle neck jumper and the same pair of black, high top, muggle converse trainers all the time, even for school. And sometimes, Harry noticed, when he was in a better mood, Malfoy would wear his black denim jacket that had obviously been brought from one of the expensive wizarding shops; it made the girls coo over him even more and it was hopelessly annoying and cliché. That was actually probably the reason why Malfoy favoured the jacket, he knew that it got on Harry's nerves.

However, Harry had been unbelievably relieved that McGonagall's prediction about the whole 'you'll want to have gay sex with each other because of the bond' thing wasn't taking any affect and they remained firmly on an acquaintance level that they'd had to build up in order to live with the new situation. Harry didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Previously, he'd hated Malfoy. It'd been a simple, straightforward routine. He'd never had to think twice about it. But now, now they had to live together and 'get along' and it had him questioning everything he'd ever assumed about Malfoy.

The boy he'd hated for seven years didn't even really exist.

* * *

><p>They were walking down the corridor together again, mumbling angrily about something when Romilda Vane slammed straight into Harry, causing her books to crash to the floor. Harry's arms automatically went out to catch her by the arms and when she looked up at him, a smile immediately broke out on her tanned, pretty features.<p>

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Malfoy sighed "if it isn't fangirl fanny," he muttered. Harry glared at him briefly sideways.

"You okay Rom?" he asked with a kind smile, bending down to pick up her books for her. She blushed scarlet when he gave them back, biting her bottom lip nervously, tucking a strand of thick, wispy, black hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, uh – sorry about that Harry, I was running away from – and you were just kind of-"

"Don't sweat it, what were you running from?" he asked, frowning, concerned. She swallowed, looking behind her warily.

"N-nothing, Nate's just a little – he's a bit irritated today and I was being stupid and he-"

"You mean he was chasing you because he was angry?" Harry asked, a concerned expression gracing his features. She shook her head immediately, panicked.

"No, that came out wrong – look Harry, thanks for picking my books up and that but – well, I'm late for uh... Transfiguration," she said, moving past them and speed walking the rest of the way down the corridor.

"She was lying," Harry said and Malfoy scoffed.

"Duh brainless, of course she was, she wasn't about to blurt you a story of domestic violence was she?" Malfoy retorted, and Harry slapped him across the head, wincing when he felt the blow on his own scalp. Malfoy looked half frustrated and half amused as he rubbed his head.

"She'll be fine Potter, someone will notice if it's really bad," Malfoy's tone went a little softer as he looked Harry directly in the worried eyes and smiled ever so slightly "now get your perky little bubble butt to class or we're going to be late again, and I for one do not want another week of detentions down in the dungeons," Malfoy insisted, nudging Harry to keep moving.

"Fuck sake, I don't have a bubble butt!"

"You totally do Potter, it's very noticeable"

"You spend an awful lot of time determining the shape of my butt Malfoy"

"I'm a young man, of course I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at people's backsides," he replied, smirking "it's a hobby. Now move," he gestured.

"But I thought you felt at home in the dungeons – Snape's like your second Dad isn't he?" Harry frowned and Malfoy clenched his jaw, shaking his head a little miserably.

"I don't mind Snape, it's the fact that you two spend the whole two hours a night glaring daggers at each other and snapping awfully orchestrated comments back and forth that pisses me off," Malfoy continued irritably, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as they walked to the back of the room, ignoring the usual amount of stares they got from people who were quite frankly too involved in the lives of others, and not nearly involved enough in their own.

"It's not my fault, I don't know what to say to him after..." Harry broke off and Malfoy drew in a deep breath, turning to him before they sat down, blocking his line to their desk.

"Look Potter, Snape's the bravest son of a bitch I ever met, but he's still human, as much as he'd like people to think he isn't. Now I get that you find it hard to accept that, but he's done shit for you that I can't even think about anymore – you owe him the effort to try and at least apologise. He'll try to make out that he doesn't need it, but he would probably benefit from hearing it. I know he's a dick – like literally one of the most insulting, bitter old bastards I've ever known, and he's never been nice to you, unlike everyone else on the sodding planet. But you weren't pleasant either and he worked his fucking ass off trying to keep you alive," Malfoy said firmly, his voice surprisingly void judgement or dislike; just advice and understanding "regardless of his creepy, selfish, less than innocent motivations," Malfoy finished and Harry could have sworn for a second that his hand twitched as though he was going to put it on his shoulder or something. The moment disappeared as soon as it arose however and before he could register it, he was sitting down next to Malfoy, still dazed and lost in deep thought.

Malfoy was completely right, and it made Harry want to punch him in the face.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry drew in a deep breath, his fingers coiling into fists tightly as he allowed the final parts of his barriers to give way. Images of Bellatrix's barbarous grin flooded his subconscious, becoming more dominant, like blurry raindrops dripping over his mind's eye, leaving their dirty trail behind. He recalled Wormtail pleading for his life and he remembered all the strength it had taken not to kill the whimpering little rat in cold blood. He remembered seeing Fred's body still and lifeless, and he remembered Hermione's screams echoing in his head like blinding, deafening banshees. He felt as though his brain might detonate.

"Breathe Potter, focus," a sharp, calculated voice perforated the foggy images, fracturing them and bewildering everything. However, the anger and pain remained, his fists itching to make contact with any kind of surface – to make someone, something, anything suffer for the things he'd been through, the things he'd had to see "keep it together," the voice said again. It was firmer this time, emphatic. Harry's hands wanted to rip open his _own_ skin now, to tear at himself for all the others that had suffered at his expense, for all the other children that had to watch unspeakable things happen to their family and friends.

"Open your eyes Potter, reign it in," the voice said and Harry's eyes snapped open, breathing onerous, sweat dripping excessively over his face, falling thicker that tears over his nose, the vest he was wearing gluing to his body. It tickled his sensitive skin and added to the lethargy dragging at his endurance beneath the adrenaline.

"Do it," Malfoy spoke loudly and distinctly, cutting into his clouded subconscious as though his voice was fractals of cuspidate ice. Without thinking, without blinking, without speaking, an almighty roar of absolute enragement tore through Harry's lungs and his fists connected powerfully with the large red punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

Draco watched in poignancy as Potter laid into the sponge, wondering briefly if the force of each blow would break through the fabric to the metal and crush the man's knuckles. Draco had encountered anger precendently; he'd watched it destroy men, watched it rape women, watched it like a virus as it had debauched the previously secure family unit that had once been home.

And he'd felt it, been a victim to it and hurt people he loved because of it. But never in his life had he seen something so rigorous and tempestuous. Potter's eyes were anguished and his back shook as though he should be sobbing. The tears were mixing with the sweat inundating his skin, but only grunts and yells came out, only incoherent insults escaped the boy's lips. For the first time in his life, Draco felt sorry for Harry Potter.

"Let it go Potter," he forced his voice to work and remain grounding as he continued to observe his acquaintance lose control. Draco took this momentary opportunity to – most probably inconveniently – contemplate the man's updated appearance.

Potter was taller now, six foot – they were the same height, always had been really, even as boys. The permanently dishevelled, jet black hair had stayed the same, and his nose was a little too long for his face, although it wasn't ridiculously noticeable, at least not in comparison to Snape's. Potter's complexion was lightly tanned, but tough looking, and although he would always be frighteningly thin – he and Potter shared that in common too, they both had fast metabolisms – he was also now lean and powerful, toned biceps moving under the tight web of skin as he brought fist after fist back to crack into the leather of the punch bag. His lips had always been quite thin, his jaw quite square. But overall, although Draco hated to admit it and would never say it out loud, Potter was not unattractive at all.

The man could probably benefit from a new, more flattering pair of glasses or something, but knowing Potter, they most likely had some kind of sentimental value.

"Potter, control it!" Malfoy vociferated. It was a risk, he was aware – to yell at a man who was blinded by his own rage was incredibly dangerous. But it was essential. Prolonged exposure to that much raw emotion would only drive Potter insane. Malfoy growled, shaking his head when his shouts were doing nothing to pull Potter back to reality. His brain ached as the anger started to throb through the link, and his body felt as though it was on fire, burning with a fever and the urge for destruction.

"Incarcerous," Draco snarled, and tight binds shot from the end of his wand, wrapping around Potter thick and unforgiving as he struggled with them on the floor, rolling about slightly, arms pinned to his sides. Draco drew in a deep, soothing breath and walked towards him, crouching down and looking him right in the eyes "calm yourself Potter," he said almost gently, and the shouts of threats slowly began to subside into sobs. Intransigent sobs that echoed with blinding sadness around the room, bouncing off the four walls and pulling a sense of tribulation even from Draco.

He sighed as he felt Potter's emotions go from erratic, to a form of pain so intense that it actually stung Draco's own tear ducts.

He swallowed tightly, feeling the beginnings of a sweat breaking out on his forehead. He dropped backwards from his crouched position to sit with his back against the wall, knees up and arms leaning loosely on them, his wand held in his right hand as he tried his hardest to send calming vibes through to Potter, slowly helping him gain back his control.

'_I'm sorry_' a tiny, whimpering voice muttered at the back of Draco's head and he closed his eyes, dropping his head back to lean against the wall, trying to concentrate on keeping it together.

'_You fucking better be_' he thought back and, through coughs and splutters of sobs, he heard a small chuckle that made everything that had just happened seem real. More meaningful.

Fuck, he was screwed.

* * *

><p>They'd been taking it in turns for Quidditch matches, switching so that one time Harry goes to the Slytherin box, and other times, Malfoy goes to the Gryffindor box. It was a Gryffindor day, and it was fucking freezing cold out, so everyone was wrapped up in scarves and sporting flasks with hot tea and coffee or hot chocolate.<p>

The match was a slow one – Gryffindor VS Slytherin. There were always extra teachers that turned up to these ones because as slow as they sometimes were, there were always more fights to break up, and, with the exception of Hufflepuff – who were always wild at the after match lock ins – crazy parties to keep an eye on. Harry had Hermione and Ron to the left of him, whilst Malfoy had Neville, Luna, Seamus and Dean to the right of him. Until about half way through, it seemed as though both times would draw nil nil. But then, out of nowhere, a low, rhythmic stamping began from the back row of Gryffindors. Two stamps, then a clap. Harry and Hermione looked at each other in mild surprise, both recognising what was about to start happening, before their surprise turned to amusement, and Harry grinned wide, laughing.

"Oh jesus fucking christ," Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes as the stamp spread, and then, on the eighth round, the song started up.

"We will, we will, rock you," it started off quiet, but grew slowly until they were shouting in tune – the entire muggle born and half-blood section of the Gryffindor box inevitably knowing the words and getting it completely in sync. It carried to the Ravenclaw box, then to the Hufflepuff box, where the majority of the house was singing. Harry thought it might be the funniest thing he'd ever seen, watching the Slytherins suddenly looking around to find half the school singing the equivalent of a war march at them. The power of Queen man, no one could beat it.

"Buddy you're a boy, make a big noise, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday. You got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kicking your can all over the place, singing-"

"Seriously? Potter, was this you?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows. Harry shook his head, shrugging before he started joining in. Uggh he could feel Potter's happiness through the link, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was ridiculously funny watching his fellow Slytherins becoming increasingly confused and frustrated. That was, of course, until he spotted a couple of the younger muggle borns across the pitch in the Slytherin stands converging together, climbing over the older students to get to each other. He watched them whispering for a few moments, before they moved back up to their places, sending whispers all the way across the seats. Then, slowly, the Slytherins were singing fucking MC Hammer across the stands, doing the stupid fucking dance and everything.

Choruses of 'we will, we will, rock you' on one side of the stadium, sort of hit a wall of sound in the middle, the Slytherins throwing back an equally amusing 'na, na, na, na… na, na… na, na – can't touch this'. He rolled his eyes again when Potter reached over, taking his wrists and forcing him to clap his hands together, nudging his foot to get him to stamp it.

"C'mon you muggle lover," Potter said in his ear over the noise "you totally know the words!"

"Potter, everyone in the English speaking world knows this song"

"Don't be a spoil sport!" Potter said again, making puppy eyes. After another five minutes of being bugged, Draco joined in with an angry huff and an irritating glance of approval from Granger. Wow. He'd better be fucking rewarded for this in the afterlife – all this bullshit should at least earn him a one way ticket to heaven, if that crap even existed of course.

* * *

><p>"Stop being a coward Potter," Malfoy snapped and shoved Potter forward, ignoring the small pain in his arm when he accidentally hit his arm on the wall.<p>

"Fine," Harry hissed, glaring at him and turning to face Snape's door, drawing in a deep, shaky breath and raising his hand to the wood, knocking three times.

"Enter," a voice drawled from the other side of the dungeons and Harry grimaced, twisting the knob and doing what he was told "Potter, I don't have time for you this afternoon-"

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted, walking a little further into the classroom, his hands sweating, heart racing.

"What?" Snape snapped, eyes wide in disbelief.

"I said I'm sorry. I've been meaning to say it for a little while. I guess, in the end, I'm the coward," Harry said as strongly as he could. But Snape had been a spy for the entire duration of adulthood and the man could probably read people like a playbill.

"I heard you, I just didn't understand," Snape said almost quietly and Harry took it as an opportunity to explain.

"I have – I've not been the easiest student to work with. Honestly, you haven't been the best teacher. But I have insulted you and I held a vendetta against you when I had no idea why you were the way that you were, although it doesn't justify anything you've done or the way that you've treated me and my friends. It was unfair of me to ever call you a coward – you… well, you're one of the bravest men I've ever known," he said, swallowing tightly to regain some confidence "professor," he added on the end, knowing that the main reason they didn't get on was because they had never made an effort to respect each other.

"Mr Potter, what makes you think I need your pathetic apologies?" Snape said venomously, his black eyes hard now they had become composed.

"I know you don't need them, but I needed to say it and I needed you to hear it. Thank you," he repeated with finality, not even waiting for a reply. Harry just wanted to get out of there before Snape hexed him into oblivion.

"She'd be proud," Harry froze, his brain only processing the sound, his entire body in shock "she would be proud of you Potter, less so than she would be of me. I have a distinct feeling that if I were to come face-to-face with her now, she would knee me rather hard and repetitively in the testicles. But she would be very, very proud of _you_. Now leave," Snape spat and although Harry's mind was still numb, his feet carried him straight from the room without question, closing the door unceremoniously behind him.

* * *

><p>'<em>What are we doing for Christmas?<em>' Harry jumped a mile when Malfoy's voice sounded in his head and his elbow slipped sideways on the table again, accidentally making Hermione spill her drink everywhere.

The past few weeks had allowed the two men a bit of space, the bond seemed to be weakening in regards to how far away from each other they were allowed to be, but they always had to be in the same room and their headaches started up again if they were apart for too long. But it did let them sit with their friends in the mornings and at lunch and they could return to their respective tables in lessons if they really wanted to, although they had both decided, surprisingly without an argument, that it would just be too much hassle to move things around again. So they stayed in their usual place together at the back of every classroom as they normally did.

But where they had more freedom in some aspects, other areas of the bond were beginning to change. They were becoming much more sensitive to what the other was thinking or feeling and as they were inevitably learning more about each other, their minds were settling to accommodate the others habits. Harry had found himself subconsciously placing Malfoy's tie on the dresser every morning because he would always spend too long looking for it before class. Malfoy would, without actually realising, leave his potions notes on the coffee table in their sitting room before bed so that Harry could stay up and use them, Harry would do the same with his Care Of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies notes.

Harry had also caught himself having dreams. Really fucking strange dreams.

They would always be of blurred, vague settings that he could never quite fully make out. Sometimes it was simply flashes of blonde hair and pale skin, other times it would be a little clearer; memories of laughing at something Malfoy had said that had been unintentionally funny that day or images of arguments and fights they'd had in the past. He didn't know what any of it really meant, because of the irritating lack of detail, and the ambiguous natural of it. All he knew was that the dreams were very hot and cold and they were overriding his normal batch of nightmares that used to have him crying silently in his sleep.

'_We can't exactly go to the Weasleys can we?_' Harry replied, apologising to Hermione as he helped wipe up the pumpkin juice that was covering her sweater.

"Uggh, I hate it when you guys do that," Hermione mumbled, glaring over at Malfoy half-heartedly as grinned at her, very amused at the commotion he'd caused, sticking his tongue out at her "snarky bastard," she grumbled, filling her cup up again and returning to her book.

'_Obviously not, I'm not setting foot at the Weasleys; I'd end up with some kind of disea-_'

'_Malfoy_' Harry interrupted the thought before he said something that would cause another tiff.

'_Fine! But you can't come back to the manor either, Mother is not in a good place right now - and I don't want you polluting my house with your Gryffindor stench_' he remarked and Harry rolled his eyes, getting a strange look from Ron.

'_Well we'll just stay here then_' Harry resolved and he felt Malfoy thinking it over for a few moments.

'_When did we get so bloody isolated?_' Malfoy sighed and Harry frowned, looking down at his dinner in thought.

'_When you blew up that cauldron_' Harry said and he smirked when he could feel Malfoys emotions jump and he felt a glare crawling up his skin.

'_**You**__ blew up that cauldron, __**you**__ got us into this mess_' Draco hissed in his mind and Harry scoffed, earing himself an awkward glance from Ron, and a smirk from Seamus, who had no idea what the two were talking about through the link, but loved watching it freak everyone else out.

'_It was __**you**__ that pushed us to the floor. We wouldn't have got covered in that stuff if you hadn't been developing your own hero complex_' Harry replied and he almost laughed out loud when he looked up and small a tiny hint of pink appearing in Draco's pale cheeks.

'_If I hadn't have pushed you out the way Potter, it would have blown your face off and I would have gotten the blame even though it was you that put the wrong ingredient in_' Malfoy snapped, obviously slightly embarrassed. Harry chuckled to himself. His smile faded fast however, when Hermione got so pissed off that she smacked him over the back of the scalp.

'_Yeah alright, you just keep telling yourself that_' Harry grumbled in his head, rubbing his scalp, giving Hermione a sheepish look.

"Sorry, I can't help it," Harry said and Dean shook his head, a secret smile on his face.

"What's that look for?" Harry asked in curiosity and Dean smiled, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"I can't believe you haven't realised that you're totally gay-"

"Dean!" Hermione hissed, looking around warily to see if anyone had heard him, Harry was blushing scarlet.

"I am not!" he exclaimed and Dean raised his eyebrows.

"So how come you haven't had a single lasting relationship then Potter? And I see the way you look at snake boy, its like sunbeams are shooting out of his arse," Dean remarked in a quieter voice and Harry glared at him.

"That's because sunbeams _do_ shoot out of my arse Thomas, you should take a look down there sometime, full of surprises," Malfoy said nonchalantly with a wink.

"I don't think there's a person left in this room that hasn't had a good ol' stare at your arse Malfoy, even I can admit that," Seamus added. Malfoy just grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as Dean rolled his eyebrows and went back to his breakfast.

"You're insatiable," Harry said, exasperated "I can't take you anywhere. You just have to flirt with everything that has a pulse – I don't know how I've survived this long living with you, and I don't know how you've ever gotten any self-respecting woman to sleep with you," Harry sighed, shaking his head.

"It's because of my good looks, my charm, my charisma, my unflinching ability to listen to Taylor Swift," Malfoy countered in an overly dreamy voice, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and pretending to dramatically faint on Harry's shoulder. He absolutely _wasn't_ attracted to Malfoy and Dean Thomas had no idea what he was talking about. So what if he dreamt about him occasionally? So what if he'd let the man see him at his most vulnerable? So what if they were spending Christmas together and it didn't bother him at all? It didn't mean anything. It _didn't_.

'_He's right you know, you're totally gay for me Potter_' a voice chuckled in his head and he scowled.

'_Fuck you Malfoy_' he snapped and although the voice went quiet, he could still feel Malfoy's amusement flickering in his chest and it annoyed him to no end.

"Well alright," Malfoy said out loud "but the least you could do is take me to dinner first"

* * *

><p>"In light of the latest racism issues that have become apparent within the school system, we have a new regime to reduce animosity and encourage inter house relations," the foghorns on the walls all around the school sounded and the students paused slightly on their paths to lessons, looking at each other in confusion. Malfoy rolled his eyes, smirking at Harry.<p>

"Get ready, she'll want us to be the faces of her new 'regime'," he sighed and Harry frowned.

"But we hate each other," he mused and Malfoy shrugged.

"Does it matter? We spend all our time together even if it is against our will, we're the perfect example of inter-house relations," he tutted, nudging him into a third year that had been shouting the same thing for five minutes "shut the fuck up!" Draco growled and the kid snapped his mouth shut instantly. Harry gave him a disapproving look and smiled at the kid, dragging Malfoy further down the corridor.

"What is this regime though?" he wondered and Malfoy stopped, pressing a finger to his lips with a frown before pointing up to the foghorn.

"In addition, it has been brought to my attention that a lack of arts is present within the curriculum of Hogwarts. As first part of inter-house relations goal to eradicate racism, several students from all years will be selected to perform in six months' time as part of a school summer festival. For further details, see head girl Hermione Granger who will be directing and producing the show," McGonagall's voice still echoed over several groans travelling through the halls and Malfoy quirked one side of his mouth flatly in distaste.

"Told you, it'll be something showy, embarrassing and pointless and since she's told everyone to go to Granger about it, she's hoping that the Slytherins are going to suddenly fall in love with her and all the house rivalry issues will be solved," Malfoy droned and Harry shook his head.

"Does she even know how crazy this sounds? It's the equivalent of putting lions in a cage with highly poisonous snakes and telling them to ride on unicorns across rainbow beams and throw monkey shit together," Harry remarked and he could have sworn he almost saw Malfoy's mouth twitch in amusement before they were shoving each other towards their next lesson again, arguing more playfully than maliciously.

"You're hardly one to comment on craziness lately Potter"

And Harry had to admit, Malfoy wasn't wrong.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, be reasonable-"<p>

"No Harry, I'm sorry but you are needed. I want you to work with me on this! And you've actually got a good voice," she demanded, glaring. He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine-"

She squealed, grabbing his face and kissing him full on the lips, grinning at him and hugging him tightly, pressing rough kisses to any part of his face she could reach "thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squeaked, rushing to the desk she had been sat at to make a couple of notes and find some kind of piece of paper she'd been looking for.

"She's a fucking predator when she wants something, I swear," Malfoy's voice came from behind him and Harry turned to find him leant against the doorway, hands in his pockets, small smirk on his face. There wasn't really anything different about Malfoy that day, nothing that stood out or was emphasized, despite the usual anyway. But Harry couldn't seem to stop staring. Maybe it had something to do with the link – maybe it was just being extra needy today or something. If the close proximity with which Malfoy moved to stand next to him was anything to go by, Harry was correct in his assumptions. Sometimes they were a little bit more obsessive about being near each other than others.

The bond was a big change for them both. It was an everyday thing now, part of his life, and Harry would catch himself missing Malfoy's presence beside him when they weren't sat at the same table. If things were quiet in his head, he always knew it was because Malfoy was either stressed, tired, or the latter. It didn't necessarily help that the exams offices at the ministry were still being re-built after the war which meant that they had to stay in full time education until things could be passed through the system again. As far as the students in eighth year had been informed, they wouldn't be allowed to leave school or take their NEWTs until summer term after Christmas.

"What am I doing then?" he asked moodily and she grinned broadly.

"I have the _perfect_ muggle song for you, but I want you to be in a number that I'm setting up between the houses as well. It's just our year group because we're giving an example of the rest of the school. But I'm still writing the set list and I've got one of my favourite dance teachers in," she said excitedly. Harry nodded once, breathing in deeply to try and coax away the butterflies in his stomach that were only the smallest clue as to what he'd just let himself in for.

"You're honestly trying to get the whole of our year to sing and dance together? It's not like you're asking Dave Karofsky to do a number with Blaine Anderson; we're talking like full on enemies here Granger, not a group of gay kids playing with some jocks," Malfoy said folding his arms over his chest and sitting down on a chair, looking unimpressed and apprehensive.

"How do you even know who those people _are_ Malfoy?" she asked, glaring at him and that pink tinge returned to his cheeks. Harry frowned at them both.

"_I _don't even know who they are," Harry said, confused and Malfoy gritted his teeth, looking pointedly at the ground like he'd just accidentally revealed something very embarrassing.

"Dave Karofsky and Blaine Anderson are characters from a muggle TV show called Glee," she explained for Harry's sake, looking as though she was trying very hard not to laugh. Harry looked sideways back at Malfoy for a second before taking another small breath in and shrugging, choosing, for Malfoy's sanity sake, to ignore what he'd just said.

"Right, so who's your choreographer that's going to be helping you then?" Harry asked, changing the subject and Hermione's face lit up.

"Okay so it took me really, really long to get hold of him and he has no idea what's going on here or about the whole magic thing, but he's agreed to help me," she started.

"But how have you even convinced anyone to teach thirty six kids who hate each other, to learn a dance routine together?" Harry asked and Malfoy scoffed.

"Her womanly charm," he remarked patronisingly.

'_Shut up_' Harry warned through the link and Malfoy rolled his eyes, keeping his mouth shut nonetheless.

"No, I told him that we were a fit, young and ready group of people that weren't particularly friendly with each other, and that the teachers are trying to change that," she said, subconsciously flattening her hair with her hand at Malfoy's comment.

"So who then?" Harry asked, still nonplussed as to why she would be so excited.

"He's so great oh my god," she said practically buzzing with happiness "I got Shane Sparks"

Malfoy sat up in his chair, apparently shocked by something.

"Granger, are you honestly telling me that you pulled him out of his schedule just to teach us?" he asked and she smiled, looking triumphant.

"Should I ask how you know who Shane Sparks is as well Malfoy or are you going to be quiet and behave while we're doing this from now on?" she said vindictively. Malfoy looked furious and embarrassed again, apparently he was deciding whether to retort before he released a breath and sat back again.

"I don't have a clue who this dude is, as long as he's a miracle worker-"

"The dude's worked on The American Music awards and he coaches people on two of the most famous American dance shows Potter, don't worry about it"

"So we know that we're doing a number as a year group, but what about the other acts?" Draco asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose and scribbling something out. Harry had been taken completely off guard when Draco had gotten so involved with the whole festival idea and now it seemed to be something that the man actually wanted to happen.

"Well we were thinking of doing a mixture to be honest. I mean, Harry's performing and I guess you could say his voice is accustomed to the Indie/rock criteria, or at least pop punk. We've got Nat McDonald doing a rendition of Katy Perry's firework. Ginny's putting together her own song with some band she found called Oliver Boyd and the Rememberalls; we've got the Weird Sisters playing something for their charity, I think they said they were doing a small playlist of Muggle songs," Hermione said quite calmly. Hermione argued and bickered with Malfoy more than Harry did recently, but whatever happened, they always managed to come up with a bunch of kick ass ideas. It had only been a month, and they had half of the festival already planned.

"The Weird sisters are playing Muggle songs?" Draco asked in mild surprise and she shrugged, nodding.

"Yeah, I think they're planning to do a number from Hairspray and something from Jason Mraz's line up but they haven't got any plans about the rest yet," she said and he sighed, making a note.

"Have you called the tent suppliers Granger?" he inquired and she shook her head no with a frown.

"I haven't spoken to McGonagall about the costs of that yet," she said and he got a few gasps when he pulled a muggle mobile phone from the back pocket of his fitted jeans.

"What the fuck?" Blaise exclaimed and Malfoy shot him a look which clearly said 'shut up or I'll throw it at your head'.

"I'll ring my Mother and see if she has any contacts," he replied in a casual voice, tapping the touch screen of a very shiny IPhone and leaving the room as he pressed it to his ear.

"Did that actually just happen?" Hermione asked, exasperated and Harry nodded with an amused smirk on his lips – Malfoy made calls all the time, he just didn't use the thing in public very much. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one who knew how to bypass Hogwarts' technology scrambler spells. Pansy was the most irked at what had just transpired, and Blaise looked offended of the way Malfoy had just dismissed him. The committee planning the festival was a mixture of three people from each house. Malfoy and Hermione had just kind of taken over as leaders, everyone just went along with it.

"There's a lot of things he hasn't been telling us lately," Theo observed, and Pansy sighed, furrowing her brow, crossing her arms over her torso and leaning back against Blaise's chest.

"He_ looks_ completely different now as well," Luna wondered aloud and Harry bit his bottom lip.

"Well, things haven't been easy," he reasoned, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug "its not like we've been handed the best cards lately". As annoying as Malfoy was, he wasn't necessarily a bad person anymore, and he wasn't in the mood for a Malfoy bitching session. Luna shifted to get more comfortable in Neville's lap.

"That's true of course," she agreed "but he's wearing Muggle clothing as well. Don't pretend that no one's noticed those glasses. They're sort of similar to Ray Bans without the sun protection lenses, aren't they Hermione?" Luna said and Hermione nodded, looking impressed.

"Yes Luna, they are; how did you know?" she asked with a fond smile and Neville pulled a sheet of blond curls back from his girlfriend's face, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Her mother used to say that Muggle clothes were more creative; didn't she Lu?" Neville mused, and Luna's smiled grew into a full grown grin, nodding proudly. Harry watched the encounter with happiness; Neville was perfect for the girl, he listened to every word she babbled about and he loved her a lot. Anyone else, and Harry might have been a little more protective over her, but Neville was his friend, and he trusted that Luna could hold her own.

"Well whatever's going through his head, he won't ever stop being a snappy, pedantic prick," Marie Thomas from Hufflepuff grumbled and Blaise glared at her, putting a hand on Pansy's shoulder, ensuring that she wouldn't jump the poor girl.

"Right, I got in touch with Gabooshie's company and pulled a few strings with the manager, he's giving us a fifty percent discount on three hundred ten birth tents," Draco informed, coming back into the room looking very pleased with himself.

'_You didn't do anything stupid to swing that did you?_' Harry asked him through the link and Malfoy glanced sideways at him, not really making eye contact.

'_Why Potter, worried about me?_' He replied and Harry watched a mini smirk appear on his mouth.

'_No, I'm worried about me_' Harry said, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat.

"Don't sweat it Potter, I just sweet talked him," Draco said aloud, winking at him. Harry, for some reason, could not help the blush rising to his cheeks when everyone looked at him and he swallowed tightly, looking desperately to Hermione for her to say something to take the heat off him.

"You know that's the strictest camping equipment company in the wizarding world right? They _never _budge on their prices," Hermione said in bewilderment and Draco grinned, nodding.

"Why so surprised Night Troll? I'm awesome, there isn't any reason why he wouldn't give me the discount. I offered his sons free tickets to it since they go here too, of course," he informed.

"Draco, say sorry," Harry murmured, watching Hermione scowling at the nickname. For a moment, Harry thought Malfoy was just going to tell him to piss off but he rolled his eyes and sighed, looking at Hermione head on and nodding respectively.

"Alright Granger, no more nicknames. Happy?" he said blandly. She opened her mouth to answer but no noise came out, her eyes wide and shocked "oh come on, that's begging for a comment now," Malfoy groaned at Harry and he had to hold back a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Hermione, is there anything else we need to go over?" Harry asked, pulling her out of her stupor and she blinked.

"Uhhh – right, yes ummm – how are we going to close off Dumbledore's tomb?" she asked.

Harry felt his heart do a small, dull thump. He hadn't thought about Dumbledore properly in a long time and suddenly he was being reminded straight away of how much time had gone by. Two years. Fuck, had it really been that long?

'_What do you want me to suggest?_' Malfoy's voice came resigned and quiet in his head. Harry knew Dumbledore's death was one of the many things that haunted Malfoy's nightmares, and yet the tone of what the man had said was directed more at Harry's feelings than at Malfoy's, as though he was being strangely considerate.

'_Just find some way to keep people out_' he replied, swallowing and nodding once in thanks at Malfoy.

"If we have a couple of people on security then? Maybe some of the younger Aurors, the ones that are still training? And five of them watching the tomb. Actually, onto the subject, how are we controlling underage drinking..."

Malfoy's voice carried on talking beside him, but Harry was thinking about other things. How had they even managed to get to this point? They were asking each other things before making decisions, respecting each other, understanding each other. When the bloody hell did that happen? So many fucking questions, and that was what annoyed him so much about not hating Malfoy anymore, nothing was certain.

* * *

><p><em>He was being brought into that room again, the one with no windows. Ironic really, that he should be transferred from one dark place to another – somewhere else that everyone continued to stare at him like he was a disappointment. He didn't need a shrink, he needed a fucking miracle.<em>

_In some ways, it was worse than the manor with the dark hallways and people yelling constantly. But in other ways, it was just something else that wasn't registering with him. Something else that he just couldn't wrap his head around. Maybe it was proof of how bad he was, that he could actually feel the damage to his psyche whilst his brain tried to process his tempestuous thoughts; the way his musings would get jumbled up, the way everything would tangle together in his mind and make him want to yell. But it always ended up the same way, with anger and resentment and his fist being pummelled harder into anything he could get to._

_And every time he thought he was getting somewhere, every time he thought he was actually going to get an official diagnosis from his psychiatrist so he could begin proper treatment, that image of looking down at his hands and seeing the pale skin covered in sticky streams of blood staining the lines of his palms and the sweat dripping down his face had ruined it for him all over again. It was only when they pulled him out of that room for the first time that he fully realised where he was and what type of place he was in._

_It was confusing and frustrating and terrifying and there was nothing he could do._

_It was as though he was constantly drunk._

_He could sit there for hours on end with his bare knees pulled up to his chin, hands scraping through his hair as he sobbed helplessly, telling himself to wake up properly, to just stop whatever he was doing and be normal, to just go back to how everything was. But no matter how hard he sobbed, or how pathetically he begged himself to just be Draco again, he couldn't make it happen._

_Then the pictures shifted and men he didn't recognise were pinning him down, strapping leather restraints over his wrists with so much force, blood began seeping out over his skin warm, wet and sticky. The staff stopped doing that after a while though because they realised that the blood was calming him, that he was beginning to enjoy it._

_Instead they would simply hold him down with more people and inject him with an unknown substance until the shouting was going quieter and his vocal chords were raw. Sometimes he'd even ended up regurgitating his own blood, the sores in his throat aggravating his stomach. He never wanted to be on those drugs again – they'd calmed him down, but they also took away any sense of personality. They blurred everything out, and turned him into a zombie._

_Then the scene switched again._

_He was stood on top of a building with his eyes closed against the rain hammering down on his face, his skin ice cold, the thin white hospital gown sticking to his body, hanging off the poky bones sticking out against his almost translucent, thin skin._

_He felt free, simple, alone. No one was whispering in his ear, no one was trying to pull him back and forth, no one was pointing fingers at him, no one was yelling at him. He just really fucking wanted the __**yelling **__to stop._

_He dropped to his knees, hunched over, ignoring the blood leaking from his legs with the force he'd hit the ground with. The crying had come naturally after that, sobs vibrating through his body, tumbling hopelessly through his broken lips in small, retched, awful little gasps and howls of anguish and fatigue. He couldn't stop them, he couldn't slow them, couldn't do anything. All of his control had been stripped away._

He woke with a start, his entire form shooting up. The force of the breath he'd drawn in was sharp and it hurt his lungs and rattled in his chest beneath the illusional safety of his ribcage. He was saturated in salty, drenching sweat, panting in a bed of tears and heat and fear.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked, sitting up sleepily and frowning, rubbing his eyes. Malfoy couldn't say anything, he was too focused on trying to recapture reality; splashes of blood and rain were still clouding the corners of his vision. He couldn't even shout at Potter to leave him alone.

"Malfoy, you should go to the hospital wing-"

"NO!" he shouted, breathing heavily.

"Draco..." Potter's voice seemed far away and it was worried, withered, sleep drunk. But it was real. The use of his first name jolted him slightly, pulling clarity closer as he slowly began to feel the present coming back to him.

"Just – just give – just give me a minute," he struggled, his voice cracked as though his throat was still afflicted with sores and painful sound. He had no idea why he wasn't screaming bloody murder at Potter, attacking him in a lucid fit of rage and vulnerability.

"Malfoy, we all... have our fair share of nightmares," his voice said quietly and it stabbed at Draco's numb brain like a firecracker, jolting him back to the bedroom fully. He wasn't off his rocker anymore, he was back to normality. He was back in the room with Potter.

* * *

><p>"I'll see you later okay," Harry said with a soft smile as Hermione hugged him tightly, silently crying into his shoulder.<p>

"I'm so sorry, this is your first Christmas after the war and it's – it's not how we imagined," she breathed, holding him still tighter. Malfoy could feel the pressure of tears building somewhere in his chest, and he knew it was Potter's effort not to start bawling like a child in front of his friends, to stay strong for them as usual. Stupid fucking ridiculous Gryffindors.

"Dude, you're hogging my girlfriend again," Ron remarked playfully. Potter rolled his eyes, chuckling and sniffing a little as he roughly embraced his other best friend who tapped his face affectionately, smiling briefly and pulling Hermione onto the train with him, not being very subtle about the fact that he too was upset. Potter took in a deep breath and stepped back so he was stood next to Draco.

"Potter this isn't like the finale of f.r.i.e.n.d.s – they're only away for two weeks, christ," he said, although it wasn't malicious or particularly mocking. It was actually softer than he'd meant it to be, and he hung his head slightly, nudging Potter to get him to stop sniffing.

A blur of red hair passed them however, and without thinking, Potter's hand shot out to grab at her elbow, yanking her around to face him. Fierce brown eyes landed on Potter's face, before they flickered to Malfoy's, holding there for a moment.

"Gin-"

"Harry, I have to get on the train or I'm going to miss it," she sighed, gently closing her hand over Potter's from where it was gripping her forearm, taking it away.

"I know," Potter nodded awkwardly "I know, I just – I don't want you to go away for Christmas still thinking that I hate you or something. And I don't want you to go away hating me either," he said. Malfoy rolled his eyes, shaking his head and tactfully finding the gargoyles near the gates to the station extremely riveting.

The Weasley girl dropped her eyes to the floor for a few seconds before licking her lips and swallowing, bringing her head up, locking eyes with Potter once more. She huffed tiredly with defeated shoulders.

"I don't hate you Harry," she exhaled "I love you, you're one of my best friends, you know that," she spoke as if it physically hurt her to see that Potter had ever thought any less of her affection for him.

"I know I was a piece of shit, and I should have given you a valid explanation for everything because after all I've put you through, you at least deserve that, but I couldn't – I just didn't-" but the Weasley girl threw herself into Potter's arms, burying her face in his shoulder. Potter was still for the slither of a second before he wrapped his arms around her neck, holding her snugly with a small, relieved, breathy laugh. He pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head. Draco was deliberately looking the other way, now seemingly fascinated by the owl perched on one of the station statues.

"You shouldn't make this easier for me you know," Harry said, breaking away from her and tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear "I probably don't deserve it"

"I'm not making it easier for you," she moved away more, lightly punching his shoulder "I'm making it easier for _me_. I'm fed up of being bitter, and I'm fed up of being the 'scorned' lover," she corrected him.

"You've handled this all much better than me anyway," he admitted, nudging her cheekbone softly with his knuckle "now bugger off before you make me cry," he said. She laughed tearfully and nodded, glancing sideways at Malfoy once more, obviously trying to decide whether she should say something or not.

"Uh - well done Malfoy, I guess. For everything that you're doing. I know it can't be easy," she said a little croakily and Draco glared at her.

"Oh go away Weasley, I don't need to be congratulated for something that should have come naturally to me in the first place," he snapped but Harry could tell that Malfoy had been taken by surprise. No one had said that to him yet, no one had acknowledged the way he'd been changing and working so hard to not be prejudiced.

"Charming," she grumbled sarcastically in typical Ginny fashion, smiling one last time at Harry and stepping onto the train, locking the cubical door behind her and walking off down one of the corridors to find Neville and Luna.

"You could have been nicer, she was just saying well done," Harry reprimanded, watching with Malfoy as the train disappeared into the distance.

"I don't do nice Potter," Malfoy sighed, putting his hands in his pockets and squinting a little against the evening horizon.

"Good thing really," Potter said, subtly moving an inch closer so that their arms were touching "considering I'm a bit tired of everyone being nice," he finished, looking out at the setting sun for a second longer before turning to start walking away, pausing at the gates leading off the pathway back up to the school and watching as Malfoy closed his eyes against the light, drawing in a slow, soothing breath.

Harry hadn't outwardly inquired about the horrific nightmare Malfoy had the night before, he didn't pester him or ask him questions. But he was aware that the man was suffering, he knew things were still lingering on his mind – it was just something they were all going through. So Harry let Malfoy have his moment of peace, the second where the only thing he could feel was the tickly warmth of the sun on his face and the gentle breeze of snow blowing up around them.

He would need that calm for later.

* * *

><p>Harry and Malfoy were both in solemn moods for the best part of the following week. They were used to it just being the two of them of course, but this was just sad. There were hardly any of their friends left in the rest of the school and only the orphans, some of the younger Slytherins and Hufflepuffs had stayed behind.<p>

"Potter, who's the kid actor that starred in the 20th century rendition of David Copperfield?" Malfoy asked on Christmas Eve where they'd retired to their room early to get in some last minute homework.

"Why?" Harry asked, leaning over Malfoy's work to see what he was doing. It was a crossword puzzle for Muggle Studies, which was another subject Malfoy had been forced to take eighth year. They'd been lounged out on the sofa for over an hour now, getting the last bits of their homework done before Christmas weekend. Harry was very comfortable, his back cocooned in the corner of the cushions, legs thrown over Malfoy's general lap area – he was counting his stars that the guy was relaxed enough to allow it, but it was warm in their rooms and the fire was on and there were no lessons to attend, and the most conflicted thing he could feel through the link, was mild irritation directed at the word search in front of him.

"I can't believe you haven't seen that movie; it's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"I didn't ask for a review Potter, I asked for an answer," he snapped.

"Daniel Radcliffe," Harry replied with a small smirk, pointing to a picture of the kid at the top of the magazine.

"He looks like you," Malfoy remarked, quirking one eyebrow and observing the picture closer.

"Bullshit, he looks nothing like me," Harry grumbled moodily. Muggles had been telling him that for years and he was almost getting as tired of hearing it than he was of hearing people fawning over his inherited eyes and hair.

"Shane Sparks rang me this morning," Draco said aloud, changing the subject. Harry frowned; Malfoy hardly ever initiated conversation.

"You mean the choreographer working with us on the festival?" he asked. Malfoy nodded, ticking off two more questions on the parchment.

"He's a bit obnoxious actually," he added and Harry scoffed, nudging Draco's shoulder playfully.

"You are in no position to be calling anyone obnoxious Draco Malfoy"

"Shut up Mr IhavenothingtodonowI'vesavedtheworld Potter," he retorted lightheartedly and Harry had to keep from laughing at the quip.

"It's true," he agreed "the absence of an all-powerful dark lord sort of clears out your schedule," Harry sighed, pushing his hair back and dropping the quill he was holding on the table in front of him.

"Not my problem," Malfoy said, writing something else on the paper, furrowing his brow as he tried to compute the more refined ways of muggle life and general knowledge.

"It's Christmas Eve Draco, and we're sat inside doing homework," Harry groaned again and Malfoy hissed in frustration, glaring at Harry.

"Well throw yourself of the astronomy tower or something then Potter, make yourself useful," he said in irritation and Harry pouted, standing up and stepping back a few steps.

"What are you doing Potter?"

"Improvising," he grinned, bouncing off to the portrait hole and pulling it open, looking back with glowing mischief in his green eyes.

"Potter, if you leave without me, we'll end up bleeding our brains out," Malfoy said, narrowing his eyes.

"So come with me then," Harry spoke as though it was an obvious solution. He disappeared down the corridor outside and Draco practically had to zoom out of the room to stop the bastard from causing them both an aneurism.

"Potter, when we get free of this bullshit, I am going to rip your head off and feed it to the Blast Ended Skrewts," he growled, catching up with him and kicking him in the back of the leg, ignoring the pain in his own calf.

"By all means feel free Malfoy, but help me smuggle some alcohol out of the Hufflepuff common room tonight, just while this 'bullshit' is still limiting us," Harry said, turning to look at him.

"You're going to steal from the Hufflepuffs? Do you have a death wish?"

"Not steal," he grinned again "temporarily misappropriate"

Dammit, this was not a good idea.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy, wake up!" Harry exclaimed, shaking him, hissing when Malfoy's foot shot out from under the sheets and hit right in the junction between his kneecap and leg.<p>

"Fuck off Potter, how do you not have a hangover?" he groaned, rolling onto his back and squinting up at him. Harry looked at the floor, coughing to hide his gulp when the covers slipped down Draco's toned, pale torso, revealing the start of bony hips and a defined v line trailed with a small smattering of blonde hairs. Since when was he so aware of Malfoy's body? Fucking stupid link and fucking stupid cliché. The press would orgasm if the chosen one was to have a sexuality crisis in the final year of his education and have a sordid affair with his sworn enemy. Harry inwardly cringed and shook away the distasteful thought.

"I don't get them for some reason, never have done really. But I want to open my presents and McGonagall said there was a house elf bringing cooked breakfast round to the dorms at eight," Harry pleaded in a whiny voice, trying to draw the attention away from his reaction by throwing a pillow at Draco's head.

"I knew you were going to be a bastard this morning," he growled, rolling off the bed and hitting his head on the dresser, making Harry clutch his scalp in pain.

"For god sake Malfoy," he huffed, kicking at Malfoy's bare legs "can you just not do that for once? Every morning I end up with a bruise on my head," Harry snapped, holding out a hand and yanking Malfoy to his feet, making sure not to let him too close "and put some clothes on, you're burning my eyes," he said dismissively and Malfoy grinned suddenly, posing ridiculously in his boxers, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Why Potter, do you find this... distracting?" he winked and Harry swallowed, turning and grabbing a random t-shirt of his own off of the dresser, pulling it over his head.

"Presents, now! And clothes Malfoy or so help me I'll-"

"You'll what Potter, jump me?" he teased.

"No! Merlin, you're so crude," he rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration and standing outside the door, waiting for Draco to put some sweat pants on or something.

"Come on then Potter, open your fucking presents, _I_ want to eat"


	6. Chapter 6

"Each of us has an inner dream that we can unfold if we will just have the courage to admit what it is. And the faith to trust our own admission. The admitting is often very difficult"~ Julia Cameron

* * *

><p>It turned out that Malfoy looked impossibly more appealing than when he had been half naked. The annoying prat had worn bloody tight fitting jeans again with a dark red turtle neck jumper that hugged the man's body a little too closely for Harry's comfort. Harry hated that the bond was making him feel this way, the connection was fusing tighter every day and both young men were finding it hard not to be in one another's presence now. Harry found himself unable to sleep at night because he couldn't settle or get rested. It was like this thing was itching at him, buzzing around his head, crawling up his skin. And it only ever felt better by morning when they had an excuse to walk next to each other down the corridors and sit closer.<p>

He really fucking hated that he didn't hate Draco anymore; it was like having a constant inconvenience – it made him think about everything and feel everything with heightened emotion or cognitive processing, or whatever the fuck this even was anymore. He felt weak, broken down and as though he was holding back from something. He didn't know what exactly, but he had a pretty good guess and it made him want to slam his own head against a brick wall just to release the tension. It would be a damn sight easier if he could jerk off – but they'd figured out early on that the whole orgasm thing made them both a little too uninhibited. They kept accidentally letting their mind barriers down, and whether Malfoy was sat in the common room, or the bedroom, he could feel Harry doing less than appropriate things in the shower. They'd agreed a month into the bond in a very awkward, mortifying conversation, that they would just have to deal with lack of release for the time being.

"Are you having a good Christmas?" Hermione asked Harry through the phone sounding genuinely interested. Her voice was light and airy and Harry smiled down the line, knowing she'd probably had a few drinks and was peaced out on mine pies and Firewhiskey. She'd taken to ringing Draco just to get hold of Harry over the holiday.

"We spent the day with killer hangovers, too much food and Malfoy being moody because he only got some new bath robes off his mother," Harry said, glancing sideways at a scowling Malfoy who was unsuccessfully trying to build a snowflake out of paper for his extended Muggle Studies project. Harry despised the small pang of fondness that contracted in his chest at the adorable site and Malfoy looked up, frowning, probably having felt it too.

'_Don't worry_' he said through the link and Malfoy shot him a look of suspicion before going back to what he was doing.

"Didn't _you_ get him a present?" Hermione asked, surprised, as though it was something that would have been obvious; as though buying Draco fucking Malfoy a Christmas present was something normal.

"No!" he exclaimed, looking at Malfoy once before standing up and walking to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Immediately he felt a scratching along his arms and his throat went dry. He'd increased the distance between him and Malfoy, and it wouldn't be long before the guy came banging at the door demanding he get his arse out into the common room again so he could concentrate properly.

"Why the bloody hell would I get him a present Hermione?" Harry asked when he was sure Malfoy couldn't hear him.

"Because he's linked to you body and soul, whether you like it or not? Because he's worked his cute little butt off trying to erase all the beliefs his father installed in him, just so he could make the bond more manageable. Because it should be pretty obvious by now Harry – he's scared of when the bond is broken, if that ever happens, because he'd be alone," she explained. Harry liked to think he was generally quite emotionally intelligent, and seeing as he was linked to Malfoy, he would have thought he'd notice something like that. But he hadn't – dense as ever, he'd managed to once again, completely overlook the important details because it was easier to bury his head in the sand and ignore them, than deal with them outright.

What would it mean for the both of them if the bond was to be broken? It had become a basic way of life now, a routine. They knew how the other lived and what they liked to eat, they had studied subconsciously the way the other moved or what things would interest them and what would bore them. And then he came to the painfully shocking realisation that he was probably the only person on the planet to ever know the real Draco Malfoy.

What the fuck would Harry do without him?

Well, he could go back to being with his friends. He could get a job at the ministry. He could go to office parties every other month or on special occasions. He could travel with Ron, go sightseeing with Hermione, buy into his own place, walk through Hyde Park every morning with a latte and the morning muggle newspaper. He could probably even get a girlfriend.

But it would all be a lie – well, part of it would anyway. He could go about his everyday life, be the normal wizard he'd always wanted to be (with the exception of the fact that he'd probably still make the fucking stupid papers every week or two), but it would all have an element of falseness to it – it would be pretend. He just didn't want to admit why.

"Harry? You still there?" she asked, pulling him out of his frightening train of thought "look, Harry," she continued "the way I see it, people are going to love you no matter what you feel, for whichever gender. Homophobia is not as frequent in the Magical world as it is within Muggle society-"

"Woah, what the hell Hermione," he growled defensively "for the millionth time, I'm _not_ gay" he said in outrage, but the words felt wrong coming from his mouth and he was sweating for some reason, struggling to get his breathing under control.

Bugger.

"You are my best friend Harry, I want you to be happy; so stop denying that you're falling for him," she said firmly and he could feel panic churning in his stomach. No, he wasn't ready; he wasn't ready to stop pretending yet.

"I'm not falling for any '_him'_ Hermione, I'm straight!" he insisted, his voice shaky. He had to grip the phone extra hard so it didn't slip out of his grasp. This was not something he wanted to be discussing, especially on Christmas day.

"When was the last time you felt... urges, towards a woman?" she asked, hitting a blank brick wall in his brain "you know, lust, sexual desire, arrrrousal," she rolled it off her tongue in an almost playful voice, and it just made him angrier. He had no idea. If he was being honest, truly honest, never.

Well, the whole attraction had been there; he was aware of Cho's beauty and he thought that he'd been in love with Ginny but...

Oh God.

Whenever he had rubbed one out, it had always been a bit wrong. Like, he'd never really gotten true pleasure from assessing the female form. Ass, tits, the idea of other things, it just didn't turn him on, at all. Women were beautiful, their bodies were beautiful. They just… didn't do anything for him. Not really anyway.

"You're gay Harry," the words cut through him, jolting violently in his chest "you've known deep down since you even became sexually aware, _I've _known that you are for the last three months. It's not going to be long before Malfoy starts realising that his jokes about your sexuality have more truth to them than you'll admit," she said and he wondered if it would all go away if he just hung up on her and refused to leave the bedroom... like, ever again.

But his emotions were in overdrive, his head was hurting and his eyes were stinging with tears after what he knew he would have to come to terms with now it had hit him properly; and Draco was probably debating whether he should come and see if everything was okay.

"Where has this even come from?" he snapped angrily "you can't just ring me on Christmas Day and demand that I come out to you Hermione, that's not fair!" he said, but his voice was weak and numb and tears were falling from his eyes hot and heavy. It was as though he was just now feeling the full exhaustion of denying it for so long. He'd always known. Of course he had, what did she take him for? It was all a bunch of 'maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I'll just man up and admit it's. But he never did it. He never gathered the courage.

Bloody hell, this feeling was so far from the relief he was supposed to be experiencing, it was pure fear; what would people say? What would Ron think? Seamus and Dean were still being bullied every day. Harry didn't think he could be as strong as them, he didn't think he could just stand up and blurt it out to the world. Lots of people were gay – one in ten, according to muggle statistics. Harry had even begun to doubt Malfoy's sexuality over the last few months.

Not that sexuality was the biggest issue between them both at the moment of course – they had bigger issues than that. Their mental states were still questionable. Harry had seen all of Malfoy's nightmares. There were ones about the manor, ones about mysterious black figures, ones of the night on the astronomy tower when Dumbledore had died, but the ones about the mental institution were the worst. Harry knew that there was anger inside himself, he knew he could be very, very dangerous if someone pulled one of his triggers. But Harry's experience in the St Mungo's mental department hadn't been anywhere near as bad as the picture Malfoy's dreams painted.

The poor man had only been seventeen when his whole world had been torn apart.

When Harry had been grieving, Malfoy had been carted off to a Muggle Mental ward called Glenbourn, put in one of the highest security rooms at the back of the building on the middle floor where intensive psychiactric recovery had to be issued. Once the magic had started acting up inside him however, his mother had him moved to St Mungo's, where everything had become so, so much worse.

He remembered poor Draco's images of the leather straps and how the blood had warmed him. That was one thing they had in common, the reason Harry had slashed his own wrists so violently all those months ago. The warm blood, the searing pain, the needle like bursts of feeling zapping at the nervous system as the metal tore the skin, the veins. The feeling of deserved punishment for all the people that had died at his hands or because of him. That feeling was addictive, drugging. And yet it was bad, too much, wrong. And Harry had seen Malfoy's scars – jagged and white against his already porcelain skin.

Then the final image that always haunted the young Malfoy heir's dreams, the one that saddened and confused Harry the most; the rooftop. It was like a scene from one of those movies. Like V for Vendetta where Natalie Portman was released from torture and stood in the rain, in the dirty institution gown and laughed at the sky. But Malfoy had stumbled, broken and shivering to the roof with no one noticing and had knelt on the edge of suicide, crying harder than Harry had ever seen anyone else cry in the pouring, relentless rain. All he knew was that in that moment, before Malfoy would get too frightened and wake up, he felt free, liberated, painfully alone and... quiet. Silent almost.

"I'm doing this today, of all days, because I want you to stop being scared of who you are, stop hating yourself, and celebrate it! This is my Christmas present to you Harry, well actually it's kind of yours to me – just say it, just once, it's okay, I won't even tell anybody if you don't want me to," she encouraged, and he heard her close a door on the other side of the line.

"I can't!" he hissed as he pressed his back against the door, his knees giving way as he slid down it, his legs stretched out loosely in a shaky tangle of limbs.

"Please Harry," she pleaded, and he wondered if this whole thing was in his head, if maybe he was still dreaming, if his mind was just trying to get him to say it. But he doubted he would feel so real in his dreams.

"I-" he coughed as though the words he wanted to say were choking him, like they were restricting his breathing "I'm-" he tried again and the word was at the back of his throat, hovering in big, flashing bright white letters in his brain "I'm gay," he gasped as the despair sort of burst from him in an ungraceful hunched form of sobs and terror. Just three minutes ago he'd been sat by the fire watching Malfoy cock up his homework – now he was falling apart on the floor against the door on the phone to his best friend.

He didn't want to pretend anymore; he didn't think he had the strength left in him. That was it, there was no going back, he'd changed his whole identity now. Everything he'd ever planned in his future was a lie. Except… it wasn't. It wasn't a lie anymore. And his identity hadn't changed. He was still the same person he'd been ten seconds ago – the only difference was that someone knew. Someone knew about it, and someone understood, and they cared and Hermione didn't hate him or think he was anymore of a freak than he had been already. He was just Harry Potter – and that… well, that was perfectly okay.

"Well done; I love you," she said simply, and the line went dead.

* * *

><p>"Potter, get out here; the freakin bond is making me all edgy" Malfoy snapped, banging on the bedroom door on the outside with his fist. Potter had been in that room for three hours now and Malfoy was just about ready to kick the fucking door down.<p>

"Potter, what the hell is going on? I can't get into your head, you're blocking me and I can feel how worked up you are," he tried again, his voice slightly lower but still irritated. There was a small rummaging on the other side of the door as if Potter was shifting his position, but it was only for a second and then there was silence again. He sighed, running his hands through his hair and looking up at the ceiling as though it would take away all his problems or give him some sort of almighty tolerance to annoying, self-depricating Gryffindors with overdeveloped hero complexes.

He knew something was seriously up with Potter but he wasn't good at the whole comforting thing. Emotions didn't come easily to Draco, he'd never been brought up to express himself through the art of drew in a deep breath and pressed his back against the wood, letting his body slide down, biting his bottom lip a little in thought.

"Look, whatever Granger said, its not a big deal – things have been worse remember Potter, things can't be any worse than you've already experienced," he told him in a resigned voice, knowing this was the only way he was going to get through to him "Potter, if this is about – fuck sake, if this is about other things then don't – don't freak out; I know already – I know," he struggled as though words he really wanted to stay were hilting in his brain and he was having to push to get them out. But this wasn't something he could say over the link like he said all the other stuff he was too embarrassed to say or do out loud; he had a feeling Potter needed to hear this with his own ears.

"You can be stubborn as usual Potter but it doesn't change the fact that – that things were never going to be easy for you, for us, if that even makes any sense. But – but fuck, you know things about me that – I don't even know how to-"

'_Shut up_' a quiet voice said in his head and he dropped his neck back slightly against the wood, quirking his lip. The wall was down, and Potter's resolve was breaking.

'_Whatever she said, or made you say; don't forget that even though I don't like you, there are plenty of other people that do_' Draco managed, and it felt like such an effort, but for some reason he couldn't just leave Potter to soak in his own pain. Did Draco Malfoy care about Harry fucking Potter?

Bloody hell.

'_You do realise that its complete bullshit when we say we hate each other now, right?_' Harry's tone was more relaxed now, but still in turmoil. His voice was cracked, exhausted almost and Draco could tell he'd been crying.

'_I don't hate you_' Malfoy replied, surprised at how easy it was to admit it, closing his eyes and trying to push some kind of calm over through the link. He heard a soft sigh from the other side and he knew it was working a little.

'_I don't want to hide anymore_' Harry said and Draco felt the skin on his lip break.

'_Quit chewing on your mouth, you're making us bleed_' Malfoy said and he felt the skin heal immediately when Potter muttered a spell.

'_She made me admit something_' the voice said again, barely there and Draco nodded to himself, hardly believing that he was in such a position. If someone had said three years ago that he would be trying to comfort Harry Potter through a door, he'd of slammed a fist in their gut just for being stupid.

'_And what did she make you admit?_' Draco asked, not sure if he actually wanted to hear the answer. He felt a small bubble building in his chest, like there was a wall blocking something Potter really, really wanted to say '_Harry_' he tested, not realising what he'd said until he heard the word properly.

_'I'm-_'

'_Gay_' Draco finished for him, shrugging to himself; completely unfazed.

"I don't see how it makes a difference," Malfoy said aloud, standing up, brushing his jeans down, and taking his wand out, trying again to see if Potter was calm enough to lose concentration and let the lock spell down.

"Alohamora," he muttered and sure enough, the mechanism clicked and the door swung open slightly. Potter was now hunched over in bed, sat up against the headboard, messy hair hanging over red, puffy eyes. Draco leant against the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

"Despite the man I used to be, I despise homophobia. To me, a gay bar is just a bar, gay marriage is just marriage. When you park your car outside your Aunt's house, you don't gay park it; you don't gay brush your teeth. It's not something you need to sit and cry over, and it's not something to be ashamed of. I don't particularly enjoy your constant company, but like it or not, I'm stuck with it. And if you need back up when this world of complete horseshit is too dumb to accept you, I'm not exactly going to be anywhere else, am I?" Malfoy shuffled a little on his feet, although his voice was solid and softened as he finally allowed himself to understand that he now considered Potter a mutual acquaintance. Maybe even a friend. And as a Slytherin, along with the fact that he himself would have to suffer if Potter was bullied, he would protect and defend his friend, the way he'd been brought up. It was probably one of the only decent things his father had ever taught him.

Harry looked at him with confused eyes, completely perplexed as to why Draco wasn't laughing at him or yelling in his face for 'being a freak of nature' or something.

"But you hate me," he spoke in a numb voice and Draco growled in frustration, rolling his eyes to the ceiling once more.

"Do you _ever_ listen to me? I do not hate you Harry, you're not a bad person and you are certainly not the same man I spent seven years mindlessly loathing," he said, smirking a little. Potter's reaction was actually quite comical. His eyebrows were raised behind his glasses, his mouth open a little and tilted to the side. It was almost... cute? Oh no, nopeity nope, he was not going there right now. For the moment, friends; he was going to get Potter through the next few months without any emotional breakdowns or dangerous outbursts. He would continue the anger management with him, once they'd move past that then maybe the stupid prick might stop hating himself for things that he couldn't control.

"Now are we going to have Christmas lunch or not? Because my skin feels like its crawling with mosquitoes and I'm hungry, and also, McGonagall will come up here and drag us down herself if we don't go," Malfoy said, a little uncomfortable with the fact that he'd just been nice to his worst ex-enemy.

"Yeah, give me ten minutes," Harry grumbled, standing up from the bed and catching Malfoy's arm as he walked passed, not expecting to feel something almost equivalent to an electric shock, only it left a delightful tingling on his skin, making his hairs stand on end.

He paused only for a split second, before going straight to the bathroom to begin damage control.

* * *

><p>"Harry! We thought we'd have to miss you tonight, and you Draco," McGonagall nodded respectfully at Malfoy, smiling in a motherly way when Harry leant over the single table they were using and pressed a small kiss to her withered cheek.<p>

"Here, we saved you seats," she said, gesturing to two empty chairs a few places up from her between a first year Gryffindor and a third year Hufflepuff.

"Oh goody, it's a unicorn child and a happy pill huffer. Seriously though, what do Hufflepuffs even do?" Malfoy mumbled under his breath as he and Harry sat down next to each other. Harry stomped on his toe and he glared.

"We're going to bruise for that later you know?" Malfoy snapped and Harry shrugged, taking a sip of pumpkin juice and picking up his fork to start eating.

"I know, but you're being Mr. Inappropriate again," he said back in a hushed tone, grinning happily at the Hufflepuff girl with plats in her blonde hair; she smiled back shyly and blushed a little, causing Malfoy to mumble another derogatory comment so only Harry could hear.

"Did you boys have a good day?" Hagrid asked, sat on the other side of the Hufflepuff girl and Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable, swallowing stiffly.

"As enjoyable as it can be when you're spending Christmas bonded mind and soul to your enemy," Malfoy interjected, not looking at Hagrid but discreetly setting his leg in place right against Harry's, immediately feeling the usual relief of body contact that the bind constantly demanded from them. He caught Harry's grateful sideways glance and simply sighed, sitting back and drinking his wine, making small talk with some of the teachers and completely ignoring the Gryffindor sat next to him.

"I think we should start up a homosexuality awareness program; I mean, I see no reason why we shouldn't bash down any ignorance on the matter. And I have been catching a few people bullying Seamus and Dean lately," McGonagall's voice sounded from the centre of the table when everyone had finished dinner. Harry automatically stiffened, loosening the collar of the red tailored shirt he was wearing with dark blue skinny fit jeans and black converses.

"Well yes, and it's not as if Dumbledore wouldn't approve; the old man was very clearly gay as the fourth of July," Flitwick squeaked and Draco choked on his wine a little, coughing as Harry smacked his back for him, also looking shocked.

"Dumblebore was bent?" Draco croaked in surprise. Hagrid was nodding, red faced from all the alcohol and Slughorn was chortling merrily, his pot belly shaking in frighteningly accurate similarity to St Nick.

"My dear boy, I hardly think that is the appropriate term for it," Sprout reprimanded, shooting him a disapproving look.

"Well that's me, Mr. Inappropriate," Draco grumbled and Harry smiled almost adoringly, it made him a little uncomfortable, but not for the reasons it should have done.

"It's just finding someone to lead the program though. I would suggest it to Hermione but I fear she has too much on her hands these days, what with the festival and the upcoming Easter ball. Maybe it would be best to ask someone who was actually in the situation. But Dean and Seamus, would they really do it?" she wondered aloud and some Slytherins from the end of the long table were tutting, going back off into their own conversations.

"I've always wondered, what are the conditions of purebloods and homosexuality?" Harry asked in a quiet tone and Draco shrugged, angling his body sideways so he was cutting off the Gryffindor first year.

"We're a dying race Potter, you know the beliefs about reproduction. My father would have disowned me if I were to have told him that I was gay, my Mother would have been expected to do the same. The whole point of our racism is inbreeding. Keeping magic pure in the genes, running through the family. If you're homosexual, you aren't going to be popping the kids out very fast are you? If you're lucky and your parents are a little less into the whole aristocracy seen, you would have an arranged marriage to a woman, have a baby to carry on the bloodline, and then you were pretty much told to fuck off and do what you want with your life; as long as you don't bring the 'filth' back with you at night," he explained and Harry looked a little outraged.

"That's horrible!"

"Is it any different to what the Muggles did fifty, sixty years ago? Have you ever _read_ Romeo and Juliet, Potter? Her father gives her a backhander across the face just because she didn't want to marry the man he'd picked out for her; he basically tells her to go and rot in a ditch if she doesn't marry Paris," Malfoy said and Harry would've been shocked that he was openly admitting that he read Shakespeare, but he was too busy considering the man's point. It was true. Muggles were just as discriminative as Pureblood wizards and they had been for centuries.

"But your parents should love you whatever you are! I know my Aunt and Uncle hated me, but they wouldn't have kicked me out of house and home because I'm – well, they just wouldn't have," Harry reasoned, thinking about it as he talked. Actually, he wasn't sure his being gay would have made a difference in the Dursley household; they were stuck up and spoilt, but Harry had never considered them evil or ignoramus.

"My Mother wouldn't tell me to bugger off _anymore_. Our rep is in ruins as it is, it can't really get any worse - she would just tell me to do what makes me happy before taking another shot of whiskey," Malfoy remarked nonchalantly, putting on his emotionless face. But Harry knew Malfoy's facial expressions by the book now and the mini surge of resentment he felt in his gut told him that Narcissa's drinking problem was probably worse than the man made out.

"I'm tired, and I think you'll be getting a little too merry if you have another glass of that stuff; come on, let's go back," Harry said, starting to feel the effect of the food and the eggnog numbing his brain ready for slumber. Malfoy's senses were becoming a bit blurry too, and Harry had experience with a drunk Malfoy – the man would always be more talkative and at ease when he was under the influence.

"Okay," he breathed, further proof that Malfoy had one too many; he would never have agreed so easily if he was sober. Malfoy took pleasure in and made a point out of disagreeing with Harry on everything, even the things he had every intention of giving up to eventually anyway. It was just a Malfoy thing, always had been. Harry actually had to grab Malfoy's arms and steady him when they stood up and for a second, a jolt of heat passed between them and Harry's cheeks burned in the candlelight.

"Professor," Harry said, swallowing tightly and managing to tare his eyes away from the stunning blue of Malfoy's, letting go of the man abruptly and looking nervously down the table.

"We're leaving now. Tell the house elves thank you for the food, and Merry Christmas," Harry said, pausing to catch Malfoy again who was swaying slightly "alright, I think it's time for bed" Harry chuckled when he had to actually hold the man upward.

"Goodnight boys," McGonagall replied as they walked around the table and started back down the rows of empty tables and back through the entrance hall up the stairs.

"I'm not drunk Potter, you can let me walk," Malfoy snapped sharply, his feet tripping on each other. Harry scoffed, gripping his waist tighter, trying desperately to ignore the tight web of muscles hiding beneath that darn turtle neck under his hands.

"Right, and allow you to break our necks? I don't think so"

"I'm serious! I'm not even that drunk," he repeated and Harry rolled his eyes.

Malfoy's voice didn't slur when he'd been on the alcohol and his snarky comments and sharp wit always remained intact, it was just the balance and the walking that was always off. Harry couldn't count all of the bruises on his legs from where Draco had been falling over the place the previous night.

"Sure, and my name is Darren Criss, I own a hovercraft and I'm six foot two," Harry said sarcastically and Malfoy pointed dramatically at his face.

"I knew it! You're a closet Gleek!" he exclaimed and Harry breathed a small sigh, shaking his head and trying to walk as fast as he could without tripping over some armour or the stone tiles.

"No, I just happen to have heard of Darren Criss, I've never watched Glee in my life," Harry sighed and Malfoy frowned. It was obvious that the alcohol was hitting his system now, and that was not a good thing because it mean a doubly drunk Harry and Malfoy.

"Well you should, there's a gay kid on it. He's nothing like you, he reads the… Vogue, was it? I don't know, but his boyfriend, Blaine, the one who's played by Darren, he's like you. He's still got his masculinity but he's all sensitive and sensible-"

"Alright, you really have had a lot to drink; damn, what happened to the dude who was just speaking clearly to me about Purebloods?" Harry asked, blinking to keep his own vision steady even though his head was spinning slightly.

"I'm right here douchebag," Malfoy spoke as they reached their portrait hole.

"Twice in two days? You're making a habit of it boys," the lady in their painting said and Harry looked a little sheepish.

"Pulchritudo in oculis aspicientis est," he said in a perfect accent, each syllable rolling off his tongue without effort. Draco wondered when Harry Potter had learned to speak latin. The portrait swung forward and they very nearly tumbled through onto the ground, but Harry managed to steady them both on time. He just managed to dump Malfoy on his four poster before going to his own bed, yanking his shirt off, stepping out of his shoes, and lying on top of the duvet, not really caring that he didn't have the energy to remove his jeans and climb under the covers.

He just laid there, looking up at the ceiling, trying to gage what he was feeling through the pleasant buzz in his head. It was difficult and the mulled wine was muddling things a little, but he concluded that he was in shock still. Today had been exhausting to say the very least. It wasn't every Christmas that you admitted your sexuality over the phone to your best friend, and it certainly wasn't every Christmas that he spent the day with Malfoy bickering over silly things, opening presents and having too much to eat and drink.

It was overwhelming, but for the moment he finally felt relieved, like a huge metal weight had been lifted from his shoulders and although things were probably about to get worse for him, he was, for the moment, at peace.

"Merry Christmas Harry," a low, soft voice came from the darkness and a small smile broke out on Harry's lips as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and allowing Malfoy's calming techniques ready him for slumber.

"Merry Christmas Draco"


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm free of prejudice Potter, I hate everyone equally," Malfoy drawled after he'd been scolded for another comment about the Gryffindors.

"You don't hate _me_," Harry grinned triumphantly and Malfoy glared at the floor, ignoring Hermione's amused chuckle.

"Well that's a different matter, I have to save your life on a daily basis because you're too stupid to look after yourself; I can't hate you when I'm saving our ass all the time can I?" he countered and Ron shrugged in agreement, lifting a stage block for Hermione. Malfoy urged sarcastically when she gave Ron a sweet look and pressed a rewarding kiss to her boyfriend's cheek. He did have to give the redhead credit though, he was built like a brick shit house and had crazy levels of stamina considering the amount of food the guy packed away.

"G'morning ladies and gays," a cruel voice full of malice and hate came from behind them and Harry immediately went red, lifting his own stage block for something to do with his hands. Malfoy, on the other hand, was having none of it.

"Bite me, hobbit," he snapped viciously, earning a look of approval from Hermione who was now standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest.

"The fuck is a hobbit?"

"Just go away Theo, I thought I made it clear that you were banned from the festival when you made Peeves drop a crate of condoms on Harry's head," Hermione said, taking Ron's hand to hold him back a little, knowing things would get ugly if both Malfoy and Ron were letting their protective instincts get the better of them.

"You can't prove that I made that little shit do anything to your freak of nature over here," Theo said, anger in his purple eyes.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Malfoy spat, getting in the boy's face.

"Draco, just leave him; he's not worth it-"

"Yeah, you listen to Faggot face-"

But Malfoy's fist cut off the end of the sentence, colliding with their approacher's jaw with a loud crack, the force of the anger throwing Theo back and he stumbled onto the floor. Malfoy moved to lay his foot into Theo's ribs but Harry pulled him back abruptly, grabbing his torso and restraining him; once again having to remember that now was not a good time to be thinking about Malfoy's body heat or the toned chest he had hold of.

"He's not worth it," Harry said firmly and a little breathlessly, working very hard not to let Malfoy's anger brew too much inside him.

"He's a homophobic bastard," Malfoy yelled, spitting on the grass next to where Theo was still trying to figure out what had happened so quickly.

"I know, but this isn't going to solve anything," he continued to soothe, eventually having to push a struggling Malfoy against the metal cage sheltering the main stage.

"It'll make _me_ feel better," he huffed, still looking venomously at Theo who was scrambling to his feet looking outraged and shocked.

"Yes but it won't make _me_ feel better; I can handle thugs like him Draco, I'm not a silly little school girl," Harry insisted, giving up trying to stop the man and tapping his face sharply to get his proper attention. Draco's cool blue eyes flickered from Theo's angry face, and met Harry's green ones. The pupils were dilated, the lids wide, face contorted a little.

"Leave him, don't give him a bigger excuse to make our life a misery," Harry said in a softer tone, putting a hand on Malfoy's shoulder and squeezing, knowing that body contact calmed them both down when things were difficult "the fourth stage area still needs sorting, I'll run damage control later," Harry said, his voice a little broken with exhaustion; they hadn't been sleeping very well lately and he was almost always anxious about who would be taunting him next. It was just a select group of Slytherins in sixth year, nothing they couldn't handle. But Harry was still very insecure about the whole situation and the bullies were making his life a living hell.

"This is _my_ mess, why are you cleaning it up Potter?" he snapped but Harry could see the underlining gratitude in his face and voice, and he smiled a little sadly.

"Because it's my fault that he said anything in the first place-"

"Oh no you fucking don't," Malfoy stopped him "you do not get to blame yourself for this Potter. How many times do I have to pummel it into your thick skull? Your sexuality is not a problem, it's just who you are," he said through gritted teeth.

"That might be the case, but I'm still the reason we get all this trouble and the least I can do is convince McGonagall that you were provoked," he insisted as Dean arrived at the scene by himself, patiently taking a hold of a still angry Ron so that Hermione could march Theo up to the castle using her head girl authorities "come on, you know Hermione's got a lot on her plate; it'll mean a lot if we sort out stage four for her," he said calmly, letting go of Malfoy and missing the warmth of his magic buzzing against his skin even through the clothes.

"Why should I do anything for _her_?" he growled moodily and although the man would probably spend the afternoon sulking and shouting at the workers helping them with the festival, Draco was stable and trying to save his dignity.

"Because, although you won't admit it, you respect her and you tolerate her enough to know that she's overworking herself again, now move! And we're going to stay out of trouble," Harry said with a disapproving look.

"Yes mum," Draco grumbled as he allowed Harry to roughly spin him by the collar so he was facing their destination. They walked away down the small hill to the lake where they were having a huge stage built temporarily in the middle of the water; they would take it down when the festival was over.

"Ron, cut it out," Harry said irritably, nodding at Dean who was trying to drag Ron with them.

"Go help Malfoy, he's still going to be worked up and he'll end up yelling at one of the workers," he said sternly.

"Go on, I want to talk to Harry a second," Dean nudged and Ron rolled his eyes, slumping off to the small distance away where Malfoy was boarding one of the boats. They both sat in silence glaring at each other, and waiting for their friends to follow them "you are holding up okay, aren't you Potter?" he asked, concerned as he leant against a small piece of wood sticking out of the mini bridge leading out to where the rowing boats were docked. Dean watched a little apprehensively as Harry shifted his feet.

"I'm doing okay I suppose, this was never going to be easy," he shrugged, running his hand through his hair and putting the other one in his jean pocket.

"And you're eating properly, sleeping properly; there's no tension with Malfoy or-"

"Of course there is, he's a straight guy, bonded to his gay enemy and he hasn't had sex in months; he's not going to be jumping up and down on the spot giggling is he? He's going to be uncomfortable in some way or another," Harry said, becoming a little rattled just thinking about it.

"Well how is he being about all this?" Dean asked, grabbing Harry's wrists and stopping him from pacing, standing up to full height and looking at him properly.

"He – he's been great. Amazing actually, he – he's just always there, just sort of accepted it," Harry breathed tiredly, getting confused with his thoughts again, looking out to where Malfoy was sat, the boat moving a little as Ron sulked.

"Okay, hold up; when did you fall for him?" Dean demanded and Harry's eyebrows hit the top of his head, his face stretching in outrage.

"I haven't fallen for him! I only came out last month for god sake!" he exclaimed and Dean nodded, unfazed.

"Yes, but something tells me it happened before that. Maybe you just haven't realised it yet," he said wisely, watching Harry think for a good few seconds. He shook his head in disbelief.

"No, no way. I have not fallen for him! He's Malfoy, he's moody and insulting and damaged"

"But?" Dean encouraged, taking their hands and pressing them to Harry's chest, just over his heart.

Draco watched the encounter from where he was sat, taken off guard when something sparked in his chest as Dean took Harry's hands so gently as thought it was nothing. Maybe homosexuals interacted with each other like this. But Draco did not like the feeling he could very much identify as he looked at Harry's confused face, yet the comfort in which he allowed Dean body contact.

The feeling in his chest was jealousy. Oh jesus fucking christ, really? Was the universe still trying to fuck him in the ass, after all this fucking time?

"But he-"

"He's adorable, unintentionally funny, intelligent, confident, more sensitive than you realised, and he's very understanding as well. I don't like the guy and I never will – he's a dick and he has no semblance of tact. But you need to figure out how you feel and talk to him about it or it's going to get – wait, Potter, what's that look for?" Dean stopped mid pep talk, seeing Harry's eyes leave his, embarrassment blushing his cheeks.

"The – the experts told us we'd have to – eventually the bond would want us to-"

"Have sex? Bloody hell, you lucky sod," Dean clapped him on the back with a grin and Harry tutted, slapping him lightly across the bicep.

Ron frowned in the boat, his eyes wondering up to Malfoy's face, following the young man's intense glare over to Harry and Dean who were talking playfully at the end of the dock. What was going on with Malfoy then?

"I'm not going to be having sex with Draco thank you very much, I haven't even had a boyfriend yet," Harry said, blushing even more and Dean laughed, hugging Harry tightly before pulling away, holding his neck in his hands in a brotherly manner. Draco wanted to punch Dean in the face; it made him very, very uncomfortable.

"Well you know what to do then don't you?" Dean said mischievously and Harry frowned, suspicious.

"What?"

"You get yourself a boyfriend"

* * *

><p>"What the hell is the matter with you? You've been in a foul mood all day," Harry gave up, sitting on the coffee table in front of Draco who had slumped back on the sofa looking dark and brooding.<p>

"I'm not in a foul mood; I'm allowed to be fed up," Malfoy snapped, his blue eyes narrowing but not settling on Harry like they normally did. In fact, the young blonde was refusing to make eye contact with Harry at all.

"Right, so it's _my_ fault then," Harry concluded, sitting more comfortably with his legs a little more open as he bowed his head in his hands, scraping his fingers through his messy, jet black hair.

"I never said that!" Draco yelled in frustration, standing up fast and kicking the back of the sofa.

"Well what is it then? I know that was difficult, but you've had worse punishments than detention Draco-"

"It's not about Theo; I don't give a shit about the detention or McGonagall!" he exclaimed in exasperation, his posture angry and acute but almost defeated.

"So it has to be about me-"

"You are not my only freaking problem today Potter; I've – I've just had enough," he sighed, his voice breaking off cracked and tired.

"Enough of what Draco? Because the entirety of your irrational temper tantrums haven't just been directed at me and Theo today; Hermione's still fragile and Ron is very pissed off with you. You know Pansy's refusing to talk to you for the rest of the week now? I hope you're happy with yourself-"

"My mother is in hospital," he interrupted, his voice harsh and strained, eyes wide and worried; body language stiff and out of touch. Harry didn't know what to say; he wanted to comfort Draco, to be the rock the man had been for him in the last couple of weeks. But he couldn't find the words he wanted to say.

"W-why?" Harry asked quietly, shocked.

"She was found in the Manor earlier this morning; Snape found her when he was visiting and she wasn't breathing," Draco continued, equally quiet. He sounded so small, so beaten and tired. It was as though the lack of strength driving his mental state was finally starting to drain on him, and it was making him angrier and even more intense and hard mouthed than usual.

Harry slowly stood up, a frown creasing his brow.

"Is she-"

"She's alive; but they had to pump her stomach three times to get the alcohol out of her system. She basically fried her liver, they're repairing it in surgery tomorrow but she's in a chemically induced coma for the moment to keep her stable," he coughed and it sounded dry, like the kind of cough that your chest demanded, cutting through your throat like razor blades.

Harry took a couple of steps forward but paused when Draco stepped back, shaking his head.

"No," he said "I don't want your comfort Potter, I don't need your pity or freaking wisdom or a big gay hug," he breathed through gritted teeth. The comment stung, but it wasn't meant to truly hurt him and it was soothed then pained by the tear that dripped down Malfoy's cheek from where his head was hung forward on his neck. Harry swallowed tightly and grabbed Malfoy's face, holding it in place.

"You think I'm any different to you? I'm still a man Malfoy, I still act like a male human being. But you're my friend, dare I say it, and if I want to try and make you feel better; then that's exactly what I'll do," Harry snapped in a hard tone, brushing the tears from Malfoys squarer cheekbones with his thumbs and pushing the sticky hair from his sweaty forehead.

Harry roughly embraced Draco, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight, feeling a moment of hesitation before Draco's own arms wound even tighter around Harry's waist. Harry could feel wet tears against the shoulder of his jumper and Malfoy's hair tickled his cheek, but this - this was fucking exquisite.

He'd often thought about what Malfoy's arms would be like; toned and strong around the top of his rib cage, warmth enveloping his body, washing out the cold from being outside all day. Forms were pressed tightly and comfortably together, heat rushing over him as he felt something in his chest contract and then release. Harry couldn't bring himself to pull away and stop this stupid thing his heart was making up before it all got too messy; Draco just needed him too much right now. He could feel how much the man needed him, and no one else knew him well enough to fully understand that.

But the young Malfoy heir was straight, Harry knew this and although the man would flirt with everything that moved, he generally preferred women.

"I thought I said no big gay hugs," Draco mumbled and Harry chuckled, finally pulling away and holding him at arm's length, squeezing his shoulders gently again. He smiled wryly; ruffling his hair. He grinned when Draco slapped him away, ducking the hand and yanking him into a firm headlock.

"Now this - this is normal," Draco remarked with a small smirk, sniffing slightly and dragging a cursing Harry up the small staircase to their bedroom.

* * *

><p>"Alright, give it a break; you've got fifteen minutes" Shane called, making a timeout sign with his hands and Draco pulled up from the crouch he was in on the ground. He was breathing heavy, his heart pounding a little; but after the war and all the therapy, his stamina was in good condition and he was rather smug with how he could walk away from the room quite happily when the rest of his dance mates had collapsed on the ground.<p>

He unscrewed the top on his water bottle and threw it back over his head. It didn't make much of a difference, apart from cooling him down; he was still sweating buckets and his muscles were starting to ache. He was about to go and check on the Weasley girl in studio three in the little room that had been set up for them on the fifth floor, but something caught his ear. A soft strumming of a guitar floating down the corridor dividing the two sets of professional sound proofed practicing areas. Then a male voice started humming gently along to the tune; it was impressive actually, save for a few notes that were a little sharp.

He grabbed a towel, hanging it over the back of his neck and walking towards the source of the music, leaning against the doorway of the room it was coming through and watching intently, barely hiding his surprise when he found out who it was.

"There are, no words; to paint a picture of you girl. Your eyes, those curves, it's like you're from some other world, you walk my way, oh god it's so frustrating. So why do I disappear when you come near? It makes me feel so small. Why do I blow my lines, almost every time, like I got no chance at all? If I could be a Superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. Cause every time you touch my hand, you feel my powers running through your veins; if I could only write this song and tell you, that I'm not that strong. Cause I'm no Superman; I hope you like me as I am," Harry broke off from the chorus, a small smile on his thinner lips, head hung slightly as his fingers worked the guitar strings in perfect tuning, like it was the easiest thing in the world. His back was leant forward a little, the instrument moulding into his arched torso a little, and his foot tapped rhythmically to the soothing beat, his eyes closed; completely absorbed in the music he was creating.

Draco had never seen anyone perform like that; as though it was the only thing in the world. He was in an almost trance, and his voice was passionate, relaxed and soft despite still having an appealing rough edge to it. It could go from deep, to high in a split second and a passer-by would still be fully aware that it was a man singing. Draco could feel the contentment buzzing stronger than ever off Harry through the link and if he was being honest, he could shamelessly admit that it was one of the most attractive things he'd ever witnessed.

"It aint no lie, I have to tell you how I feel. But each time, that I try, it gets a little more for real. You walk my way, oh god it's so frustrating. So why do I disappear when you come near? It makes me feel so small. If I could read your mind, girl would I find, any trace of me at all? If I could be a Superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. 'Cause every time you touch my hand, you feel my powers running through your veins. But I can only write this song, and tell you that I'm not that strong. 'Cause I'm no Superman; I hope you like me as I am - ladadadi. Yeah woahhhh, woahhh, yeah, babadadadiii- ,woahhh, woahh"

He began strumming heavier, yet gentler on the guitar, his voice getting a little stronger as it got to the most powerful part of the song. Granger had been right, at least one of the songs she'd picked out for Harry was absolutely perfect for him.

"If I could be a superman, I'd fly you to the stars and back again. 'Cause every time you touch my hand, you feel my powers running through your I can only write this song, and tell you that I'm not that strong. 'Cause I'm no supermaaaan, ohhh, I hope you like me as I am. Ladum, deladum, delai..."

He finished with a few small strums, rolling his tongue and slipping out the end of the song slowly, with concentration before the music stopped, his hand dropped from the metal strings and rested over it on his knee. He took a few deep breaths and looked up in surprise, feeling Draco's presence suddenly now nothing was taking over his senses and his eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't know you could sing," Malfoy smirked, hiding the way he'd really felt about what he'd just witnessed. He put his hands in the pockets of the fabric grey jogging bottoms he was wearing. He smirked wider when he watched Harry's green eyes do a quick sweep of his body; Malfoy was fully aware that his white vest was sticking to his chest and his skin was more flushed than usual. There was something about having your gay best friend checking you out, that was ridiculously empowering and strange.

But not unwelcome.

"Well, that's because no one but Hermione has ever heard me sing; it's why I want to get this just right for the festival. I've still got another song to sing as well, and now Ginny wants me to feature in one of her numbers too," Harry sighed, running his free hand through his hair and shifting a little on the stool he was sitting on.

"Perfection isn't attractive Potter; you want to give them a performance they're going to remember, something they can relate to. Not something they're going to wow over for a week and then disregard as old news," Malfoy stated, tilting his head to the side in thought as he watched Harry shrug his shoulders tiredly.

"But I don't like being talked about," Harry whined and Malfoy rolled his eyes, standing to full height and walking forward, carefully taking the guitar from Harry's hands and holding it in his arms. Draco played an absent minded tune as he wondered around the room a little.

"What's the other song you're singing?" Draco asked, stopping his strumming and placing the instrument against a set of drums, leaning against a soundproof glass window blocking what Ginny was singing in the other room.

"Hermione wants it to be a surprise so I'm not allowed to tell anyone," Harry coughed a little, clearing his throat from all the time he'd spent singing.

"Come and finish practice with Shane; and then we can get an early night so you don't look like so much of a zombie tomorrow," Draco suggested, with a genuine mini smile, shoving Harry off the stool playfully and laughing when Potter's strong body smashed into him, tackling him in a headlock.

Not so tired after all then.

* * *

><p><em>"Do it boy or there'll be hell to pay," a harsh voice called after him down the rank cellar stairs as he limped down them, taking out his wand and igniting it, ignoring the pounding in his brain that was making him dizzy and forcing his conscience to the back of his mind; it was just another mudblood, nothing to sweat over. So why was his throat closing over? Why was his body heating up, why were his clothes suddenly feeling too tight for him. Why did he feel so trapped in his own home? But he still muttered the lock charm for the blood-stained gate and pointed his wand in front of him, clearing his voice.<em>

_"Back against the wall scum, I'll make it quick if you make this easy," he said in an emotionless, cold voice; the only type of tone his vocal cords were allowing. He was in deatheater mode now, which meant he wouldn't be able to stop himself, and he most certainly wouldn't be able to make it quick for the poor girl._

_He heard uneven scuffling and he shoved the cell open, stepping over the threshold and laying eyes on the pathetic figure lying hopelessly against the back wall. Her hair was black; long, blood stained and greasy, sticking to her face where she was covered in barely healed cuts and bruises. She had two black eyes and her bottom lip had a pretty deep slit in it; but it looked like it had long since stopped bleeding. Her skin was pale and covered in a shiny sheen of salty sweat, illuminated sickeningly by the light of his wand. Her ribs were poking at her skin, her stomach made visible by her ripped clothes that were barely even covering her dirty bra anymore._

_The only thing that really showed anything of who the girl really was, was her eyes. Deep, unique purple with flecks of yellow and green; glistening with heavy tears that she wasn't allowing to fall._

_Her chest was heaving, her fever high and her arms shaking despite how hot her temperature was. He devised that she was dying already anyway; a few more hours before her body would shut down. An agonisingly slow time to die in, he thought; especially when her organs started failing one by one, hour by hour before there really was nothing left._

_And this is what he was part of. Whether he had done this to her directly or not, he was a piece in the game that had made her this shivering piece of skin and bone._

_He tried to capture his anger that he'd felt before at her blood status, tried desperately to tell himself that she was a mudblood, and this was what the bitch deserved. But deep down, he knew she had done nothing wrong. Not a thing. The poor girl had probably never hurt anyone in her whole life._

_He wanted to make his fist smash her jaw, to force his foot into her fragile ribs; to cause her more pain. But suddenly, her eyes flickered weakly up to his, and fixed on them. The single thing she was very clearly trying to communicate, shattered everything he'd been planning to do to her; anything that would have made his master and parents proud._

_Before he knew it, he had lowered his wand, gripping it so tightly that he could feel the skin breaking against the wood, and was sitting down next to her. Shakily, pathetically, his arms pulled her into him, cradling her broken body; she could only really be seventeen, give or take a few years... in his case he would have to take. He held her against him so tightly it almost hurt and she was digging her fingernails into his skin, the fabric of his blazer bunching in her bony hands._

_"Thank you," she whispered once, but he couldn't listen to anymore, he couldn't hold the life in his arms anymore; it was all too much, too real. And he pressed the tip of his wand to her temple, his chin resting on the top of her scalp as he swallowed tightly._

_"I forgive you Draco," she breathed weakly, no sound left in her words; simply her very last palpitation before he said as clearly as he could._

_"Avada Kedavra"_

His eyes snapped open, a whip of Oxygen ripping through his lungs painfully, sharply, opening his airways. His body had lurched sideways and before he could stop it or swallow it, his stomach was slamming outwards against his ribs, pushing acid and bile up through his throat and out his mouth. It hurt, ached; and the taste was making him throw up more; he couldn't breathe and tears were falling rapidly down his face, more from being sick than anything.

And suddenly Draco felt a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine, alternating, the palms soft and cooling against his boiling hot skin.

"Shhh," a voice was breathing gently, deeply. Then a spell was uttered and the sick vanished from the floor, strong, bare arms helping to pull his body back into a sitting position, the hand continuing to massage the muscles around his spine while he tried to regain composure. It was impossible. And just when Draco began to wake up properly, the sobs came thundering through his subconscious, taking over his body, retching at his voice box, stinging at his tear ducts.

But then the arms were wrapping around him, a hand was cradling his head into a cool, muscled chest and the skin-to-skin contact was reaching into his diaphragm, stroking his throbbing heart with tender whispers and calming words.

It had been a very long time since Draco had been rocked back and forth, comforted on such an unbelievably intimate level. He couldn't think of a logical explanation as to why he wasn't pushing Potter away from him, yelling at him, taking all his anger out on the nearest person. But he was so very, very tired and Potter was so strong and warm and addictive; and Draco's eyes were drooping before he'd even stopped sobbing and he felt himself being moved back against the headboard.

It was so blurry and confusing and painful, and he didn't want to be left alone, he didn't want to feel empty anymore. He might have reached out an arm, he could even have shouted at Potter not to leave him; but he was too exhausted to care as blackness overtook his numb senses before he could figure anything out.

* * *

><p>Harry woke to a huge wave of nausea washing over him, amalgamated with a split seconds flash of blinding green light that sent a sharp pain snapping through his skull. He coughed from the force of it, his eyes watering as he felt despair, shock and the urge to throw up vibrating through his brain. He gathered himself and blinked away his dreams, registering the sound of gagging and gasping. His eyes flickered sideways, adjusting to the low lighting of the room, immediately jumping out of bed and climbing on Draco's.<p>

He didn't know what to do, his mind was still a little numb. He could only settle his hands on Draco's back, rubbing smooth circles on his spine. He tried to remember what Hermione had done when he had been in this position, and seemed to grasp a memory of whispered words in his ear. So when Malfoy had finished being sick, and he started crying, the only thing Harry could think to do was hug him.

He could feel all of Malfoy's pain and how it was making the poor man wretch and sob into his shoulder; it was like...

There wasn't even a word to describe it. Like a connection he'd never felt before was pulling in his chest, making him hold Malfoy tighter while he cried. The intimacy was absolutely terrifying, and so odd that it was with another man. It was _right_ though; yes, Harry was definitely gay. But the heat of Malfoy's body and the pain running through his blood and muscles was unbelievable.

And this was Harry's chance to be there for him, his chance to pay him back after the man had put up with so much trouble, and so much drama; Harry could return the favour and just for tonight, just one time, hold him as he tried to regain composure. The stickiness of tears dripping from Malfoy's face and onto his bare chest was drying, and he could hear - no, feel Malfoy's breathing slowing slightly.

He just looked so drained and exhausted, Harry wanted to just sit there the whole night and memorise the tingling of skin against skin, the warmth. But this wasn't about Harry, and he knew that Draco needed him to be selfless right now.

So Harry easily shifted Draco's body so the man was laying down again.

Just as he was about to leave the bed however, a hand wrapped around his wrist in a death grip and Harry looked down at Draco's blue eyes under hooded, pale eyelids.

"Don't – don't fucking leave," a very, very weak, barely there voice escaped Malfoy and Harry had no idea what to do "I'm so fucking fed up of being alone"

* * *

><p>"You coming to the match today?" Ron asked Harry who was staring into space.<p>

"Potter, snap out of it," Malfoy hissed in his ear and Harry jumped, blinking to get rid of the sticky blurriness hurting his eyes.

"What? Sorry," Harry asked Ron and he rolled his pupils to the top of his head.

"I said, are you coming to the match today? You never answered me when I asked you the other day," Ron repeated and Harry drew in a breath of acknowledgment, nodding.

"Yeah, Shane says he doesn't need us in the dance studio today, he's just got the Slytherins that aren't getting it right yet. Besides, I'd go anyway; you know I would," he shrugged. Ron looked happier about the concept of playing now his best friend would be watching, but solemn as well.

"It's a bugger we haven't got you playing for us though Harry, we've got a fair chance of winning but having you would guarantee it," Ginny sighed, scratching her head in thought as she took a sip of her pumpkin juice.

"You should count yourself lucky that Potter's not playing, it just means that I can't play as well, and you know I would have whooped your arses," Malfoy smirked, winking at Pansy who smiled at him from over the other side of the hall. Harry was taken off guard by how well Malfoy was taking the whole nightmare incident. They'd simply woken up and gone about their business as usual, not a single mention of what a state Draco had been in the previous night.

And now the man was joking around. Malfoy was smirking, grinning, taking the piss out of Ron, and, much to Harry's chagrin, flirting with Pansy. It was weird, Harry had expected him to flip and become snappy, withdrawn and cruel like Malfoy always was when he was embarrassed by something, or had accidently chipped his pride.

"Yeah right Malfoy, you're a good player, you're ace in the air but your aim is off by a mile and I've never seen you duck for the Snitch without tailing Harry," Ron remarked, getting a cold glare from Draco and Harry discreetly nudged his leg to stop him from retorting too sharply.

"I don't write the tactics for the team Weasley, although if this stupid bond thing hadn't happened, I'd be captain of the Slytherins," he snapped and Ron nodded in respectful agreement, which was a completely new thing, but not unwelcome.

"You'd be better as captain I think, it'd give you a chance to show them that you're not a follower anymore," Harry said with a small smile and Malfoy looked at him full on for a few seconds, as though transfixed by something, before he looked away again, ignoring the seductive look Parkinson was shooting him from the Slytherin table.

"Do you know what would be uber cute? If one of you only went to the match 'because he likes Quidditch, I just like scarfes' aawww, yeah!" Lavender squealed and Harry frowned at her like she was some kind of alien. Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione choked on her drink.

"Lavender, this isn't an episode of Glee; It's not Kurt and Blaine, Harry and Draco were forced to live together, they aren't a fluffy highschool couple," Hermione corrected Lavender with a reproachful look.

"I have no fucking idea what she's on about," Harry frowned, bemused, and the corners of Draco's mouth twitched a little.

"For a gay man who grew up with Muggles, you don't know much about understanding girls and their world do you?" Draco remarked and Harry looked playfully offended.

"For a straight man who grew up hating muggles, you know a little too much about their world, don't you?" Harry retorted and Hermione coughed to hold back a laugh as Draco's mouth twitched again, and Harry saw a small impressed look flitter through Draco's gaze for a second before he shrugged.

"There isn't much in the way of decent to watch on TV when you're locked on a high security, Muggle psychiatric ward," he spoke, his voice a little quieter and Harry shook his head in amused disapproval.

"You shouldn't joke about that," Harry sighed, a small quirk in the corner of the left side of his lips and Draco took another sip of his drink unenthusiastically, stealing a piece of Harry's toast.

"If I didn't joke about it, I'd just end up yelling about it, and I know which one you prefer," he replied, his tone softer and less defensive than Harry had been accepting and he nodded in understanding.

"But we're not mentioning your past today, right?"

"No, we're not. We're going to watch our friends play Quidditch against each other, argue about it afterwards at whichever celebration party we go to later, and then we're going to stumble back to our room afterwards," Draco said firmly and slightly distant. And that was all the indication Harry needed to know that Draco was in need of a normal day, far away from the horror he'd dreamed off last night. What made Harry want to be sick the most though, was that he had a feeling the dream last night had only been the half of it.

* * *

><p>"Shhhhhhh!" Harry giggled, pulling Draco into the room of requirement, closing the door loudly shut behind them, muttering a wonky locking spell so Filch wouldn't be able to get in. They'd been avoiding him, running away from him for nearly an hour now because neither of them could remember properly where their room was.<p>

"You're the one that's being loud Potter!" Draco said, laughter in his eyes flashing brilliantly. Then a silence set over them and all they could do was look at each other, trying to remember coherent thought when they were in such close proximity under such a high influence of alcohol.

"Malfoy-"

"Don't Potter - just, don't," he stopped him, drawing in a sharp breath and looking at the ground, swaying a little with his hands in his jean pockets.

"We're going to have to talk about it at some point or another Draco, this isn't going to just go away," Harry said gently, putting his own hands in his pockets and leaning back against the door to try and give them both a little more personal space.

"No, we're getting through today without talking about it, remember?" he said, his voice cracked, quiet and vulnerable.

"But this isn't right Draco; you're going about this the wrong way. You need to face up to these nightmares, especially since they're getting such bad reactions from you. This isn't something you can run away from-"

"I know Potter! Don't you think I know that?" he snapped his head up suddenly, shouting. Harry looked reproachful, glaring at him.

"Well why are you being such a coward then?" Harry huffed, his brow furrowed.

"Because that's all I'm good at, right? Running away, being a coward?" Draco yelled again, turning and slamming his fist into the wall. Harry coughed in pain, clutching his own bleeding knuckles, trying to breathe and wait for the stinging to die down a little. Then Draco's warm, pale hands were cradling Harry's crushed knuckles, and Harry could see blood on Draco's hand to where he'd punched the wall.

"I'm sorry," he breathed harshly, raspy "fuck, I'm sorry okay" a salty tear dripped once from Draco's bent head and landed on Harry's skin and an electrical current buzzed from tanned finger, to pale finger "I'm so fucking sorry Potter," he breathed again and Harry took in a deep, soothing breath, looking up and pulling his hands away from Draco's.

Harry cupped either side of Draco's neck firmly, shaking his head, one of his thumbs smudging a tear that was fuelled half by the alcohol, half by true sadness and regret, from Draco's distinct cheek bone.

"We all killed someone, every single one of us, in some way or another. You have got to stop punishing yourself. It's something you've made me realise lately Draco, I can't hurt myself to make up for other people I hurt, it's not right and you can't do it either. These nightmares, they're destroying you, they have a power over you and you can't - you can't live your life like that," Harry said struggling a little to explain what he wanted Draco to understand.

"Potter, stoppit-"

"I won't let you push people away anymore. Dammit Draco, you've taught me so much, _I_ want you to teach yourself now. I want you to stop hurting yourself like this, it hurts me too, remember?" Harry exclaimed, letting go of Draco's face and looking at him straight in the eyes hard, breathing slightly heavy "look, at the end of the day I just want you to see the good person you've become... if slightly twatish and wanky sometime-"

And Harry was cut off by a sudden mouth on his as his body was pushed back a little by the force of the quickness of it. The split second it took to register what had happened wasn't enough to make Harry push Draco away and stop him doing something he knew the man would regret.

But oh Merlin, he hadn't even been thinking about this.

It started off tense, shocked as Draco sucked on his bottom lip, and they both drew in harsh, shaky breaths, somehow ten times louder in the silence of the room. Then, the initial effect of the contact wore off and with the clashing of tongues and teeth and the whimper of passion that escaped his vocal cords, Draco's hands bunched in the back of his hair, nails scraping a sensitive spot behind his ear. It was so different to have a muscled chest pressed against him, rather than breasts and curves, but it was so much more than he'd ever anticipated and it was fucking exquisite, just like Draco. Draco. The name brought him back to reality and he managed to find the self-control behind the urge to carry on kissing and tasting the entirety of Draco's mouth, so that he could place his hands on Malfoy's shoulders and push him back.

"That's not fair," Harry panted, shaking his head, anger slowly seeping into his gut "that was not fair Malfoy, you know - you know how hard this whole thing has been for me," Harry's voice was coming back to him and reality was fading harshly back into his mind, fighting against the firewhiskey clouded part of his subconscious, bringing the world back into full, bastardly focus. Malfoy's expression was just as shocked as his own, it was like he'd been possessed and he was just realising what he'd done.

"Fuck," Malfoy swore, resisting the urge to punch the wall again.

"You can say that again. What did you have to do that for? Was this some kind of practical joke? Because it's not funny Malfoy, this isn't – it's too much; you've gone too far," Harry said seriously, betrayal threatening to start the tears up.

"I didn't know what I was doing! You think I would fuck our friendship up like this for a cruel joke? You were just so – and I - holy shit Potter, I'm sorry," Malfoy said, words tumbling out of his mouth jumbled and confused.

"You're straight Malfoy-"

"That's not the issue here – my sexuality has never been a concern. This is – this – fuck, this is about you. I – christ I'm fucked up, I have – I just have no idea what I'm doing," Draco replied, a complete mess and Harry breathed out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between is forefinger and thumb.

"You spent a lot of time helping me figure out who I am Malfoy, but who are you? I know you, but you need to know you as well," Harry said, his voice stressed, but steadier as he tried to push the arousal to the back of his mind; there were more important things that required his attention, away from his raging adolescent hormones.

"Don't start lecturing me Potter," Malfoy snapped, breathing harshly while he tried to gather his bearings.

"We can't fuck this up – it's not as if we can just walk away from each other either. You need to think about things properly, kissing me isn't going to help you in any way," Harry said sternly, taking his wand out of his pocket and trying to stop his hand shaking.

"You can hex me if you want but-"

Draco stopped talking when Harry simply muttered the counter charm to his locking spell and opened the door a crack, looking around and gesturing for Malfoy to follow him when he stepped out of the room.

"It's this way I think," Harry whispered off-handily and they sprinted the rest of the way to their room, a tense silence hanging between them that had not been there since the start of this big mess.

* * *

><p>"And down, then up, spin, drop and roll. And around, drop, up, lift the girls, throw.<p>

Okay and into the street dance; one, two three and four, drop, sideways, jump, flip back. And you guys run in, jump up, lift the girls, throw them up, catch, good! You're getting there and down, up, in, back, reverse, reverse, up, right, left, up, drop and step ball change, drop. Tango! Good, sexy remember, good Harry and Hermione, you're doing great and twirl out into a new partner! Remember you're ridiculously attracted to your dance partners, you fit together in contours. This isn't about perfection, it's about feeling, and feeling the music bringing you closer. Unity people, fucking unity; in, out, drop, dip them, pull back up... dammit people, closeness! I don't' care about house colours, you're having dance sex with these people, move!

That's more like it! Ron, Parvati; bring me some curving! Damn boy, you've got some hips! And that's it Draco, you need to roll Hermione like she's an extra body part you're trying to relax. You two are on fire!" Shane yelled out encouragement and criticism as the entire group of eighth years moved perfectly, smoothly transitioning as each style of music switched.

The heat and sweat was heavy in the air but they all had a common cause, something to work towards. It wasn't ideal but if they were going to prevent themselves looking like idiots in front of hundreds of people, they would have to work together. The sound of thick breathing and small gasps as they moved closely together, slipping between moves fast and slow, tight and loose, robotic and contemporary.

The music stopped with a small, revolutionary halt and the lights shut out enough for them to perfect their dramatic finish before spotlights were brought back up on them all, the women lied out on the floor, chest pointed up to the ceiling, back arched, head craning upwards, eyes narrowed seductively. The men stood above them, one foot on either side of their hips, towering over, heads down, creating dark shadows.

"Beautiful!" Shane yelled, voice echoing around the dance studio, his face gleeful and his posture triumphant as he signalled for them all to relax out of their positions. He watched on with a fond smile as every single man in the hall reached down a little, holding a hand out to a woman so they could haul them all to their feet. It was working, the unity thing Hermione had originally approached him about was actually genuinely working.

Now the Slytherins were smiling exhaustedly, but proudly at the muggleborns in the room, the Hufflepuffs were being included in the small celebrations and well done's being exchanged all around and the Ravenclaws weren't criticizing anyone one bit. The Gryffindors were mixing everywhere, even nodding respectfully at some of the Slytherins, and things were good.

"I'm proud of you! I don't want to leave you guys now, but I'll hang around for the festival in a couple of weeks; I know you're going to be breath-taking," Shane spoke loudly as everyone turned to listen to him, arms around waists and shoulders, holding hands and nudging each other playfully "but things have got to be a wrap; my work here is done. You're all exceptionally talented people. Every one of you have grown astronomically in these last few months; the classes, the music, the maintenance and back stage work, it's brought you all together. You proved the world wrong about yourselves when they said you couldn't and for that, I am very, very lucky to have taught you all," he said, laughing when they all cooed and smiled, a few crying as all fifty people in the year group ran at him, hugging him.

"But stop it, you'll make me cry," Shane said, hugging everyone individually as people picked up their bags, filing out of the studio for the last time.

* * *

><p>Draco wasn't going to lie to himself, Potter looked bloody attractive after a dance session when his face was glistening slightly with sweat and his white t-shirt was sticking to his muscled body, jet black hair messier than ever, bright green eyes sparkling with adrenaline in the minutes before they would settle down and the tiredness of such intense dance routines kicked in. It confused Draco, made his head hurt and the all too familiar spot at the bottom of his spine jolt a little too pleasurably for his liking.<p>

It had been a very long time since both men had any kind of sexual release anyway, and their hormones were still running heightened, even if they had quietened down since their teenage years.

Sex was never that much of a big thing for him. He enjoyed it, it felt good, and it had never really mattered to him whether he was fucking a girl or a guy – both were equally attractive to him on the most part, and they both did the job nicely. But Potter was different, someone who he had known for years. A fixture in his life that, good or bad, had always been significant and had, once again, good or bad, had been a bane on his existence. He loved Potter as a friend, he was past denying that; the man was someone he cared about and would protect and look out for till his dying day.

But why had Draco kissed him? All that time of trying to bring Potter out of his shell, to get him to open up and push past the anger issues, to help him feel a sense of peace after such a stormy childhood. Had all that time been just because Draco had subconsciously been falling for the man? Bullshit, Draco didn't fall for anyone. Astoria had been assigned as his arranged wife in the days when it seemed he would live for his family name for the entirety of his life; but now he was free. Now his father was dead, no one was whispering conflicting instructions in his ear and forcing him in dangerous directions he didn't want to go in, now he could find out his identity for himself.

He didn't need to sleep around anymore, he didn't need to prove himself to anyone, and Potter would accept him for whoever he was, Harry was not a judgmental person. And for a second, Draco thought over and realised how much he'd changed from the pale, pointy faced little aristocratic bully who had held a childish grudge of rejection for seven long years. He still hated himself for all the things he'd done, he would never forgive himself for that and the lives he'd taken - but he really had changed for, dare he say it, the better.

"It's not my fault I have no idea what I'm doing when I leave school," Potter pouted at Granger. It had been very awkward since the kiss after the Quidditch match, and Potter was right, they couldn't really just up and leave each other – that was, of course, if either of them wanted to avoid a haemorrhage. Although Draco wondered if being in this situation any longer would cause his overactive brain to spontaneously combust.

That kiss hand lingered in his mind however. It would force him to wake up at night sweating and having to deal with a certain problem that would cause him to need a very cold shower almost every morning. He was sure that Potter was well aware of the 'problems' the incident was causing him, but it didn't matter how steamy or inappropriate Draco's dreams got, Harry would stay very still in his own bed, facing determinedly away from Draco as though nothing was happening.

"It's not my fault either Potter, we're in a shitty situation and you're being an asshole," Malfoy snapped, not really understanding why Potter was suddenly winding him up so much.

"Fuck you," he glared back and Hermione frowned, watching the interaction with sad eyes.

"Oh for god's sake you two, grow up! We've got our whole lives ahead of us, and you're going to ruin it because you have some kind of unresolved sexual tension? Uggh, argue it out but don't come grumbling to me until you've worked out how to be responsible adults," she said irritably, pushing passed Draco and slamming the door of the studio they were supposed to be practicing in behind her.

"We don't have unresolved sexual tension," Draco grumbled, turning away from Harry and shuffling his feet, pacing around lazily, hands in the pockets of his grey fabric jogging bottoms over his shoulder gym bag.

"Whatever, I'm leaving"

"Don't be fucking stupid Potter, you can't!"

"I can do whatever I want to!"

"THEN WE'RE ALL THE WAY BACK TO SQUARE ONE AREN'T WE?"

"NO, YOU ARE!"

Harry yelled lividly, growling and shoving his foot into the nearest mirror, making a crack shiver through his reflection. That was better, the mirror image of himself in front of him looked more truthful; cracked, broken and chaotic, confused with the faint perspective image of Draco a few metres behind him, looking a little taken aback.

"You've brought me nothing but confusion! Dammit, you don't half make me want to scream Draco Malfoy! It took us so long to get here, to be friends, to have this - this thing. And now I can't think straight, I can't concentrate on anything because you and your stupid fucking face pops up in my head and you're always there, I can't push you out, I can't block you out and the worst thing in the world is, I don't want to. I don't want to lose you but I know I'm going to if we keep this up," Harry blurted, his face sad, red and tired.

Something told Draco in that moment that Harry had been very much awake in the night during his vivid dreams.

"I don't understand what you want me to do Potter-"

"I want you to figure out why you kissed me"


	8. Chapter 8

"When the innocence is dead and gone, these will be the times we look back on. We're standing in a light that won't fade, tomorrow's coming but this won't change, cause some days stay gold forever. The memory of being here with you, is one I'm gonna take my life through, cause some days stay gold, forever."

* * *

><p>"Draco?"<p>

"What Potter?" Malfoy sighed as he leant back against the tree, squinting at Harry against the sun.

"After this festival, they want me to go to a couple of events at the ministry – they need some positive publicity," Harry said very unenthusiastically. Malfoy sat up a bit, raising his eyebrows.

"And what did you tell Kingsley?" he asked a little distantly. Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

"I told him I'd do it," he said, taking a swig of his water bottle.

"What? What did you do that for? You know I'd have to come with you and everyone at the ministry hates my guts!" Draco said angrily and Harry swallowed, nodding and standing up, gesturing for Draco to follow him so that no one was listening in on their conversation as usual.

"That's the reason I said yes. You come to the ministry with me, work your charm and show them the man you've become; if you can convince me Draco, you can convince them, trust me," Harry said as they walked "and I actually believe in their new regime – Kingsley is a good minister, I think he can make a real difference. I'm not going to be a poster boy, but I can give him the basis of a mildly good reputation to work with"

For Scotland, the weather was bloody glorious. The younger students teased the giant squid in the lake, some of the slightly older kids went swimming and snogged all day in the sun; the eighth years just kind of relaxed whilst trying to keep up with their insane workload including the festival. Things were coming together, the stages were all up and caged off with professional ministry guard charms so none of the students could get in as the equipment, decks and speakers were being brought in strictly on controlled muggle company workers and vans. So really the student council, head boy and girl, and Draco and Harry needed to be outside just to supervise when the new shipments came in.

If the sun stayed out long enough and everything stayed on schedule, they were in for a very good week. 'Better than Glastonbury' Draco was calling it. And of course, the man was claiming all credit for it, with the exception of Hermione's work and Ron's brawly arms that were hauling huge boxes and crates across the grounds to be put in their proper place every day. It had taken them a very long time to get the solid go ahead from the ministry; there was the issue of underage drinking and smoking, the safety regulations. They'd even had to get contracts signed with the international relations and control of immigrants and magical creatures departments in case the odd idiot had brought an extra ticket for a pet dragon.

All the acts were lined up and they pretty much had their stage rotas and performance times sorted. Tent, caravan, chalet and camping areas were closed off up on the hills and forests surrounding the castle and they'd been told that as long as the school building was kept intact along with Dumbledore's tomb, they were pretty much allowed to do what they wanted with the place. There were hefty fines set up for vandalism, and Kingsley had signed a bunch of papers saying that he'd lend them some Aurors to keep an eye on things too.

The only thing they had yet to work out, was an efficient cleaning up process once the week had ended.

The festival was scheduled to start in three days but several wizards and witches had already started filing into Hogsmede and the surrounding villages, staying in hotels and inns so they didn't need to make long trips in just the day before. Malfoy and Hermione had managed to swing a discount deal with Madame Rosmerta so that she didn't start kicking up a fuss about the amount of young adults staying in her pub. Aberforth was happy to put them up in the Hogs Head of course, as long as the 'frickin neanderthals' stopped trying feed pot to his goats.

Other than the few other problems, Hogwarts and the surrounding areas were raking in the money from all the tourists pouring in as the teachers and students readied themselves for the final exams of the term before the holidays began. Students were allowed to attend the festival from third year upwards and almost every child over the age of thirteen were attending festival week.

Professor McGonagall was not going to be staying for the event, but she had appointed Snape as deputy headmaster and bribed him into supervising for the week with promises of very generous pay rise and days off every Friday in the New Year. Slughorn had not been happy that he'd had to take an extra class on as part of his shared timetable with Professor Snape, but once again, the old codger been hushed by a higher salary and promise of crystallised pineapples from the house elves every day for six weeks.

"They won't want to hear it Potter, mark my words; they'll hate me," Draco said dully and Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Man, you're supposed to be cocky and arrogant and the one time where I want you to be confident is when you chose to start caring about what people think of you," Harry exclaimed exasperatedly and Malfoy glared. Their relationship was still strained but Harry had not said anything else on the matter of the kiss in the past few days. They'd actually been able to have a few conversations that weren't ridiculously awkward or filled with horribly tense silences.

Draco still wasn't any nearer to understanding his feelings for Potter. But he was sure of one thing, he wanted Harry Potter, and not in the friendly 'I want to be your best friend' way. He was sure Granger knew of the situation as well because he would catch her studying his facial expressions and movements when she thought he wasn't looking. It made him uncomfortable and like he was under even more pressure to try and unjumble his head.

"I've been wondering Malfoy, what about going to see a therapist?" Harry suggested a little hesitantly and Draco's eyes widened as he stopped, forcing Harry to come to a standstill as well.

"You're fucking kidding me? Not you as well? Jesus Potter, I can understand my Mother telling me that I'm crazy – Granger frequently reminds me of it, Weasley actually insults me about it to my face; my Father's favourite subject was the state of my sanity, but you?" he said, angry and a little betrayed if he was being honest.

"It's only because I-"

"Care about me. You want to help me, you want be to be fixed, you want them to get in my head and make me right again. There's nothing wrong with me Potter, I refuse to go back there-"

"Hey! Hey, stoppit! I wasn't going to make you do it – I was mostly thinking about it for me, not for you! Calm down!" Harry said gently as Malfoy started to get locked on again. Harry had the same issue sometimes - the word flow would come through through his mouth in sharp, angry snaps, and he'd find it difficult to get away from one particular thought. Harry grabbed Malfoy's shoulders and steadied him, tapping his face slightly to get his full attention.

"The fuck was that for?" he growled.

"I just want you to be happy," Harry said seriously, giving Malfoy a sad half-smile "I want _us_ to be happy"

"Well, therapy isn't going to make me better Potter; you can't fix me," Malfoy managed to say as his crystal blue eyes slid back into focus and settled on Harry's green ones "I don't need to be fixed"

"I don't want to fix you, I just want to be sure that you're okay, and that I'm okay – I'm not exactly the best judge of my own character lately, am I? This is just as difficult for me as it is for you; it's not like we can just have time away from each other is it?" Harry reasoned firmly, but tenderly, letting his arms drop from Draco's shoulders and drawing in a slightly tired breath.

"Do you _want_ to be away from me?" Draco asked, looking at the ground and shuffling his feet, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"No way," he sighed "you know you're important to me. But this is such a big head fuck, and we can't argue and run off to hide anywhere, we can't go anywhere else and clear our heads. We don't have any proper space away from each other, it's difficult to distinguish between feelings and thoughts, to try and understand what's going on when we're together twenty four seven," Harry explained, and it was almost overwhelming, all the things they'd gone through in the last eleven months "its forced us to get over the animosity and all the resentment bullshit, but it isn't doing wonders for our friendship"

Not long ago it had been Malfoy telling _him_ to get himself together and think about his identity. It had been Malfoy getting _him_ through his anger issues. Now Harry was being confronted with this guy who was frightened of his future, his relationship with his best friend, and what the world would make of him when he finally had to face it outside of Hogwarts and this tiny bubble they'd subconsciously created around themselves. It was one thing fighting a war, but they'd never actually had to be part of society without any help – neither of them really had any idea how to be functioning adults.

"And while we're on the subject we should probably talk about what we're going to do when we graduate," Harry added with a small grimace, cringing at the very idea of it. It wasn't like he and Malfoy had a history of agreeing on things, and this was a big thing to try and agree on. Malfoy's head snapped up again and his eyes were thoughtful, a little surprised for some reason.

"We'll just - get a flat in London or something," Malfoy shrugged, looking slightly nervous which was a rarity because Malfoy hardly ever dropped his mask to reveal what was going on in his head.

"If there's something else you want to do, we can figure it out, it doesn't have to be London, we can live anywhere you want," Harry said at once, not realising that it only meant something else Draco had to get his head around.

"Kinglsey's already offered me a job, and I reckon I'm going to take it. That's if the great Harry Potter is brave enough to buy into urban muggle life on the Thames?" Draco grumbled, his pride hurt by the fact that he was frighteningly comfortable with staying in England just because Potter very clearly wanted to.

"Kingsley offered you a job?" Potter asked in surprise and Draco smirked at him a little, visibly cheering up by the fact that they had a kind of unspoken plan for the near future. At least that was sorted then.

"Why the surprise Potter, don't you think I'd be hot sat behind a desk?" he said in a ridiculously flirtatious voice and Harry rolled his eyes, shoving him sideways and running ahead a little bit to give himself a head start before Malfoy recovered and started chasing him.

* * *

><p>"No you imbecile! I want Callum on gate five, the lake needs to be supervised; I've already confiscated a bag of cocaine from a fifteen year old!" Hermione yelled down the mouthpiece attached to the side of her head under her hair "how did they even know cocaine exists? They're pureblood wizards for merlin's sake!"<p>

"Granger, cut the bitch mode; I've got this side covered. Go enjoy some music," Malfoy snapped, nodding at the guard nearby to properly alert someone of her recent order. He grabbed Hermione's arm, twirling her around so her back was to him, and guiding her away from the stress. He shoved her into one of the crowds singing along to the weird sisters who were doing a rendition of 'Remedy' by the muggle singer, Little Boots.

"You genuinely like her don't you?" Harry said with a smile, handing a new headpiece microphone to another guard who had broken his as he approached.

"I tolerate her Potter," he corrected "don't mistake it for friendship, she's still a self-righteous, know-it-all Gryffindor," he replied but Harry knew Malfoy was lying.

"Whatever," Harry chuckled, not buying it one bit "Ron's group down by the lake lost connection on their microphones so I had Ginny run down and give them new ones. I'm on with her in ten minutes so we need to get over to stage one now," Harry said and Malfoy nodded, taking his mic away from his mouth and resting it on his chin as Harry removed his own headset while they sprinted over the grass. Harry was nervous, but it wasn't the first time he'd spoken in front of the thousands, and it most certainly would not be the last.

"How is everybody today then?" he asked, adjusting his microphone as Ginny pulled hers out of its stand, pulling her hair from her shoulders and putting it behind her neck, wiping her forehead. The crowd roared to the point where the sound waves were actually noticeable in the afternoon air.

"I take it you're all having fun then," Ginny chuckled, looking over at Harry and smiling softly, telling him that she was grateful.

"So basically, this is one of my favourite muggle bands and I know you're all going to love this song," she said with a giant grin.

Harry liked to think he knew Ginny better than anyone else did. Despite being eventually destructive, their short relationship had been very strong and mutually pleasing. They had loved each other very much, if not in the way they had wanted to, and even though Ginny was confident, he could always tell when she was a little jittery.

"Okay," she smiled at the man on the drums and the music started. Harry liked this arrangement because it started with drums that they could use to ease into the song with – they didn't need to head straight into it, they could relax and get a feel of it first.

"Give me a second I- I need to get my story straight, my friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the empire state; my lover she's waiting for me, just across the bar, my seats been taken by some sunglasses, asking bout a scar"

Harry took over straight away the moment she'd finished the first verse and immediately the entire crowd started cheering. He tapped his foot, leaning into the more standard issue stage microphone. He looked at the floor, then at Ginny, who was bobbing slightly to the music, clapping her hand against her bare thigh below her shorts, pursing her lips in a barely contained smile. It made Harry remember why he loved music so much – the beat flowing through his whole body and the tunes that made him feel things that were inexplicable and in the moment.

"I know I gave it to you months ago, I know you're trying to forget. But between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies you know, I'm trying hard to take it back"

Both of them hit the notes right and the beat slowed as they smiled at each other across the stage.

"So if by the time, the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, I'll carry, you home, tonight. We are young, so let's set this world on fire, we can burn brighter, than the sun," they sang the chorus together as Harry pulled his own microphone from the stand and they started moving to the music a little more, grinning at each other, singing to each other as well as their audience who were all waving and jumping at all the appropriate times.

"Tonight, we are young. So let's set this world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun"

"Now I know that, I'm not, all that you got. I guess that I, I just thought, maybe we can find new ways to fall apart. But now my friends are back, so let's raise a toast; because I found someone to carry me home tonight"

"We are young, so let's set this world on fire, we can burn brighter, than the sun"

"Carry me home tonight, carry me home tonight. Carry me home tonight, just carry me home tonight"

"The moon is on my side, I have no reason to run, so will someone come and carry me home tonight. The angels never arrived, but I can hear the choir; so I found someone to carry me home tonight."

"We are young, so let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter, than the sun"

"Tonight, we are young, so let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun"

The music slowed straight down and Ginny walked across the stage, took Harry's hand and smiled brightly before he threaded his arm around her waist. She pressed their temples together, still moving to the music.

"So if by the time, the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, I'll carry, you home, tonight"

As the song ended, he drew in a breath and allowed his eyelids to flutter for a few moments at the large, tight knot of joy and nostalgia in his chest. Seven years this place had been his home – for seven years Ginny had been one of his closest and most beloved friends. These people he was singing to, hundreds of them all smiling at him and dancing to his voice, he'd grown up here, with this crowd and the teachers and the walls and smells and sights and colours. And in just a few short days, he'd be saying goodbye to it all forever. He had to swallow hard and blink a few times to get rid of the warm, stinging wetness in his eyes. He felt a sudden overwhelming relief that he had made it through all the bullshit so he could sing a cheesy, coming of age song on the stage with his ex-girlfriend before he graduated to become a full-time adult, even after it had been predicted that he wouldn't make it to his eighteenth birthday.

The cheers were louder than ever when the song ended and Harry pressed a rough kiss to her cheek, sticking his tongue out at her when she playfully grimaced, rubbing at her cheekbone but accepting the hug he pulled her into. He released her after a couple of seconds, turned to the audience, waved and blew them all a respectful kiss, before gesturing for Malfoy to follow him offstage.

* * *

><p>Harry had to admit, despite his reservations, the week had been glorious. Although Draco had had him in near tears with his rendition of Green eyes by Joe Brooks (Harry had later scolded Hermione for her very obvious song choices for the two of them), things were running well. There'd been a few cases of underage drinking and drug abuse, but Snape had been on them faster than a moth to a flame and since the first day no one had dared to touch any type of alcohol if they were under the age of eighteen.<p>

Harry loved the daytime, sunbathing and reading and listening to the booming music from all of the stages around him, and night was even better as another team of organisers took over and he could sit in the music areas with all his friends around fires and have a few drinks. The atmosphere of it all was wildly contagious and stunning and their summer was turning out to be pretty fucking amazing for somewhere that could get as cold as Scotland. They'd always had hot summers at Hogwarts though, so it was no surprise.

The week was nearly over though, and although the scheme of unity had been a huge success, and they had made insane amounts of money for Hogwarts, an aura of subdueity hung heavy in the air. The big dance number had been performed – Harry was still aching in places he didn't even know existed – the acts were starting to pack up and the last few bands would be playing late into the night before retiring to their hotels and inns in Hogsmede and travelling home first thing in the morning.

"Well, I say we toast to Granger," Malfoy said loudly, smirking when he was met with a collection of ridiculously bemused expressions "though ever the self-righteous bitch and controlling know-it-all, she's worked her perky little ass off organising this, and-"

"And you love her really," Harry teased, nudging Malfoy a little tipsily and evoking laughter from around the fire they were all sitting around. The night was drawing to a close and the stars were hanging over them, twinkling intricately against blinding black sky.

"I do not love her Potter, we've been over this-"

"To Hermione," Ron interrupted before Malfoy started ranting or ruined the moment. He pouted a little drunkenly, lifting his beer bottle in the air nonetheless.

"The Night Troll we all know and love," Malfoy added sarcastically and Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling at him and blowing a mock kiss at him, which he dramatically caught in his hand and put in his pocket.

"I say we toast to emo kid, he's pretty much the definition of doom and gloom-"

Draco shot Pansy a warning look and she rolled her eyes.

"... but he's a brave motherfucker, and I'm glad he hasn't killed Malfoy yet," she said happily, grinning widely as everyone rose their drink in the air once more. Harry looked genuinely grateful and nodded respectfully at Pansy, who nodded back.

"I've got one! I've got one!" Ron grinned, standing up fast, stumbling a little as he stepped up on one of the tree logs. Everyone chuckled and rolled their eyes or tutted, listening despite Ron's drunkenness and the half-hazard way he was waving his bottle around "I toast to eighth year. It's been shitty," he said, and people made amused noises of agreement "but we've been fuckin awesome," he paused slightly once more, his grin growing brightly when Blaise and Dean cheered loudly, catcalling "and as we drill on into the looming bore of adulthood, I can honestly say that I'm glad I was allowed to get hammered, pass my exams, and be a fucking teenager again!" Ron yelled and everyone cheered again, laughing and clinking their drinks together properly, downing it all in respect for Ron's statement.

Blaise winked at Pansy and threw an arm around her, letting fond, dancing eyes scan over everyone with light and happiness – a trait that was not often seen in even the best and most tolerable of Slytherins.

"Amen to that gingerbread, A-fucking-men to that," Blaise smiled, pressing a kiss to Pansy's temple where she was sat between his legs on the floor, knees tucked up under her chin.

* * *

><p>Harry took a deep breath in and leant over the sink, splashing his face with the cool drops of water. He lifted his head, watching a few beads drip from his eyelashes in the mirror, following them with his eyes as they trickled a small, intricate path down his jawline, settling on the dip of his collarbone. His subconscious gaze flickered down the reflection of his bare chest to the visible scars on his wrists; angry, and a constant reminder of the way the knife had slashed the blue veins that had been repaired and joined together up his arm like branches of a tree, or smaller lines on a spider web. It was weird, normally a person would feel protected in their skin, assured that nothing would break through it the way that blade had sliced. But Harry knew. He knew how simple it was to break that skin, to cut into the flesh and very easily break a tube carrying more blood.<p>

There were other scars too, apart from the obvious ones. A long, white line drew over his shoulder and disappeared under his armpit where he'd fainted as a child and landed on a butcher's knife sticking out of Petunia's 'pristine' collection. It was one of the only times he'd ever seen concern and worry flicker through the eyes of his Aunt at his expense.

Yes, he remembered that day well.

He was thirteen and it was about three weeks before Aunt Marge was due to arrive in Private Drive. Harry had just finished pulling the weeds from the garden as one of his chores, and he'd taken a break to fill a glass with water from the tap and rest his muscles slightly. But Petunia had very recently washed the kitchen floor tiles and as Harry had turned to put the glass back into the sink for it to be washed up later, his muscles were throbbing more than ever and his brain felt tight across his forehead and he couldn't pull the Oxygen into his lungs.

As he'd fallen forwards, the knife that had been resting on the marble kitchen top had cut the large laceration in his shoulder on his way to hitting the ground. When he'd come to, Petunia was on her knees next to him looking absolutely terrified. He had felt the blood warm and very wet, sticking his shirt to his chest.

"Harry," she'd whimpered, her beady eyes wide and transfixed on the spot where the crimson liquid was seeping from.

"I can't move it - take the shirt off," he'd managed to croak out in pain; the stinging was horrible, like someone was rubbing salt in the angry flesh. Her long, thin, shaking fingers had gently but feebly unbuttoned the shirt and she gasped, her blood-stained hand going to her face in shock as to how deep it was.

"You need to call an ambulance Aunt Petunia," Harry said more clearly. It was the one time he'd ever seen a different side to her, and she'd never left his side when they'd spent the whole day in the hospital – he could even have sworn that he'd felt her grasp his hand when the nurse was stitching the wound up. But he couldn't be sure, the pain had been a little distracting.

Then there were the other scars he'd gotten over the years, the ones from all the trouble he'd caused as a teenager. There were the tiny lines on his calloused knuckles where those flying keys had scratched him during his first year, a faint redness on his leg where he'd cut it when trying to get into the shrieking shack to save Sirius. A surgery scar just over his hip bone where he'd had his appendix out when he'd turned ten, the year before he'd met Hagrid.

And he realised, that although his arms were thicker and his stomach was toned and hard, his body showed him for what he was. Not a hero; just a person. Someone who had put up with a lot of shit for a long time and carried the weight of the world far too young.

He didn't feel sorry for himself – on the contrary, he just hated himself for letting his friends die. And if the world could see him now; scarred, tired and out and proud, would they love him as much as they loved the image that the media painted of the infamous Boy Who Lived?

"You know, looking at yourself in the mirror for too long is counted as creepy, right? I'm supposed to be the one with the narcissistic personality disorder," Malfoy's softened voice travelled through the air, hitting his eardrums and waking him from an almost trance. Harry didn't move from where he was stood though and his eyes were still firmly fixed on his wrists, trailing the nasty raised flesh that was still healing.

"What are you thinking about Potter?" Draco asked, a thoughtful expression creasing the barely there, intense lines on his pale face. Harry drew in a breath of air that seemed to hurt a little for some reason, wiping some water from his brow.

"I'm thinking about my own stupidity," he replied, green eyes flashing back at him in his reflexion.

"Of course you are; I forgot that you were a self-obsessed emo child," he rolled his eyes "grow up Potter, the world has moved on from this, it's not your fault that all those people died and you know it," Draco spoke firmly, and Harry pushed the irritation away, forcing himself to ignore the comment as he grabbed the towel off the rack and wiped his face, wrapping it around his neck.

"How's your mother?" Harry asked, changing the subject and Draco sighed, sitting back a bit on the bath tub side and resting his head against the wall, shrugging.

"As good as she can be I suppose; she's just as fucked up as you sometimes Potter," Malfoy said with a bitter quirk of his mouth and Harry smiled sadly, rolling his eyes.

"You're messed up too - lest we forget Malfoy, _you_ were in that fight before all this started as well. It takes two to tango and you gave as good as you got if I remember correctly," Harry remarked, throwing the towel to the floor and moving to walk out of the bathroom. Malfoy's pale hand caught his wrist though and Harry froze, looking down at him where he sat.

A moment of complete silence passed where neither of them took a breath before Malfoy slowly stood up. The proximity was taking Harry's breath away. His chest felt tight and restricted, his gaze fluttered down to Draco's lips, his eyelashes tickling his cheeks as Malfoy's own breath fanned across his face, making him shiver slightly.

"I've been thinking," Draco said, close to a whisper, and those oh so tempting lips hardly moved as he spoke "and I think I need to figure something out. I don't-"

"Draco-"

"Don't move," he said, momentarily placing a finger to Harry's mouth to hush him, before the hand brushed sideways across Harry's face and settled, cupping the curve of his neck "just don't say anything, I want to just see something a second," Malfoy said and heat was radiating off Harry despite the cold bathroom air and the bare top half of his body.

Then Harry's eyes closed completely and he was sure he let out a small whimper of supressed need before Malfoy's mouth was on his again. It was the tiniest brush together to start with before he caught Harry's bottom lip between his own, letting go and then grabbing his neck a little more steadily, deepening the kiss.

The heat was insane now and the way their mouths fit together roughly, consumed by something beyond either of their control. And once again, Harry just couldn't find that place inside him that could push Malfoy away. Nothing could make him want this to stop anyway, even if it was wrong and would fuck everything up. This was sinful and Harry couldn't get enough of it.

The best and worst part of it was that he could feel Malfoy's need too. The need to touch, taste, bite – it was in the way he man shoved Harry back against the wall tiles with a gentle push. Their bodies were flush against each other again, their hips slotting together, the fingernails scraping the back of his scalp, hair bunching in his fingers.

Somehow, Harry managed to break away, bowing his head as Draco's dropped, his forehead leaning on Harry's shoulder, their bodies still pressed together, the cold of the wall tiles just another sensation on Harry's heated skin as they tried to catch their breath.

"Stoppit," Harry managed to let out in a pleading, shaky breath and Draco weakly brought his head up to lean their foreheads together now, breaths mingling, noses touching, Draco's hands still clutching the hair at the back of Harry's neck.

"That's the insanely huge problem Potter – I don't think I can"

* * *

><p>"And you're sure you don't mind us leaving?" Hermione said, tears running down her face as she clung to Harry, who was trying to breathe through how tight her arms were around his neck.<p>

"It's fine! I always knew you wanted to travel for a while anyways," Harry spoke softly as she pulled back finally, her eyes red and puffy, hair sticking to her wet cheeks slightly. Harry stepped back and Hermione stepped forward so she was in front of Malfoy, who was stood with his eyes fixed to the floor, hands in his pockets, back slouched slightly.

"You look after him Malfoy," Hermione demanded, but it was a half sob and Ron coughed to conceal a laugh at how un-intimidating it was.

"I think he's perfectly capable of looking after himself Granger," Draco replied stonily, shifting his feet a little and her expression turned soft, her mouth turned up in a half-smile, brown eyes warm, compassionate and filling with tears again.

"Malfoy, I'm going to hug you now," she warned with an adoring, watery grin and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was reluctant to begin with, but gave up pretending to be unaffected by her leaving after a second. His own strong arms threaded around her waist tightly and he discreetly buried his head in her shoulder.

"I'm gonna miss you," she breathed and he could feel warm tears soaking the collar of his dark green cardigan.

"Look after yourself Granger," he croaked, sniffing and turning away from her when she let go. Harry smiled again, putting his hand on Malfoy's shoulder and squeezing affectionately.

"I told you, you love her really," Harry said quietly and Draco glared at the ground again, shrugging Harry's hand away, making him purse his lips to keep in a chuckle.

"I love you guys," Hermione said, letting Ron take her shoulders and lead her away through the gate.

"When did everything change?" Draco said suddenly, staring after Ron and Hermione even when they'd boarded the airplane. Harry sighed, leaning his head sideways in the crook of Draco's neck, looking out of the huge window at the plane.

"That is the cheesiest fuckin question ever and I refuse to answer that right now," Harry replied, grabbing Malfoy round the neck and half-tackling him out of the airport lobby.

* * *

><p>Harry swallowed as much air as his lungs would hold, adjusting his blazer and releasing the breath when the driver opened the door of the sleek black ministry car for them. He followed Malfoy out onto the steps leading up to the building. Photographers stood behind waist height metal barriers and they went wild when Harry and Draco climbed up the concrete onto the red carpet together.<p>

"Just keep smiling," Draco said through gritted teeth "these motherfuckers will eat you alive if you break character"

They turned and moved on, facing the areas that were yelling for their angle the most at a time. Occasionally, Harry would put his arm around Malfoy's shoulder, at other times they'd simply stand together, Harry smiling, Malfoy seemingly a natural. Years of aristocracy and wealth had the press putty in his hands.

It had been three days prior to the event when Harry had realised that he had literally nothing to wear – and this was kind of a big deal, it was his first big public appearance since the end of the war, and he didn't exactly want to show up in jeans and one of Dudley's old t-shirts. Malfoy was wearing a black satin suit made to fit him, and as he'd rather obnoxiously told the tailor to place emphasis on his 'excellent arse'. He was wearing black shiny shoes complete with a tastefully silky black tie.

Harry was also in a black suit, but this one was velvet with a dark red tie and burgundy shoes. Draco had also convinced him to leave the circular glasses at home, and wear a brand new, crimson framed, stylish pair. He was fidgety and uncomfortable at the fitting, but now he'd worn it in a little, it didn't feel so bad. He did kind of feel like a monkey performing out of its cage though.

"Mr Potter, you've caused quite a stir turning up with your childhood enemy; what exactly is the situation behind that?" an interviewer he vaguely recognised asked as they moved forward to talk to some of the press, like the other people who were arriving were doing.

"The bond situation has been printed before – it's not a secret. Basically, we weren't going to spend all this time living together and just carry on yelling at each other all the time. I've had enough of hating people thank you very much," Harry answered truthfully, his voice still friendly, but firm and to the point. This was horrible – he already missed the sofa back at their apartment and the comforting mundane tune belonging to the title sequence of Coronation Street.

"And Malfoy's name was in the dirt, do you really trust him after all this time?" the woman inquired. He swallowed to steady himself, and nodded, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers and glanced at Malfoy who was a few yards away, doing his own interview.

He watched for a few seconds as Malfoy talked easily, charming the cameras immediately, smirking, laughing and winking. But Harry could see the underlining intensity as always, and Draco's hands were shaking a little as he moved them animatedly along to what was saying.

"Of course I do," Harry spoke "I never do anything I'm not sure of," he lied blatantly "and he's helped me massively over the last year. I think he's pretty much earned trust and friendship from the whole world with how hard he's worked to make things right," Harry said with a small smile gracing one side of his mouth. It was a little overwhelming, other 'celebrities' were walking up and down the carpet behind him, talking to reporters on the other side, taking pictures with other ministry officials. It was all very advanced and Harry wondered if the wizarding world were finally breaking into Muggle technology. It was a matter of time really; he made a mental note to mention it to Draco later.

And he realised that this whole thing was unnervingly strange. He wasn't denying that Malfoy had done a lot of cruel and malicious bullshit in his life. He wasn't claiming to have completely forgiven and forgotten all of it. He honestly never thought he'd be stood like this in front of hundreds of reporters defending his childhood enemy. But, here he was. He could imagine Hermione listening to him whining. 'Suck it up', she'd say 'you've done weirder stuff'.

"Of course, because you came out as gay a couple of months back didn't you? Talk us through what that was like," the reporter asked and Harry froze for a second before he swallowed the pain and fear that always stunned him when he was forced to talk about dealing with it. But he nodded once.

"It was as difficult as it is for everybody else in the closet. It's just something that I had to do. Any other questions?" he asked, feeling terribly awkward and increasingly itchy. Harry was still getting used to people not trying to stab him for being gay.

"What was the first thing you did after the war?" the woman asked, clearly sensing a touchy subject. But he was being ushered further up the carpet, and he was glad of the interjection. There were certain things he wasn't too keen on the public knowing too much about anyway.

"This is getting to me already," Draco huffed as they climbed up another short set of steps, took a few more photos singularly and together, before turning and entering the building. Harry had no idea how the ministry were concealing this from the muggles; it was really quite big.

There was already a ministry party in full swing, but the first thing they did was get large glasses of champagne.

"You know we're actually required to socialise, right?" Harry grimaced at the room full of stuck up looking officials and not seeing one person that he could actually have a decent conversation with.

"I'm an expert in this Potter; being a Malfoy requires you to know how to be a good actor and give the people what they want. Follow my lead," he said unenthusiastically as Ludo Bagman approached them and Harry felt himself resisting the urge to punch the ridiculous man in the face. Bagman had been like Lockhart, Crouch, Slughorn and bloody Amos Diggory. Taking favour on him for his fame and the legend that people talked of, not the real person beneath the lightning shaped scar. It was one of the reasons why he'd originally decided to trust Malfoy, the man had never once believed in the silly ramblings of the press about his 'heroism'.

"Harry m'boy! It's been too long! And Draco, how are you?" Bagman boomed, grinning broadly and shaking both their hands dramatically.

"Fine thank you Bagman. You look well, retirement's doing you justice," Draco nodded in acknowledgement, that same half smile, half smirk in place, the crystal blue in his eyes warmer than they had been before. It was the first time Harry really saw the boy that had been shaped, moulded and pruned into a 'Malfoy' heir. This was the first time Harry had really seen the pain and confusion Malfoy had been put through so that he would become a killing machine with wealth and women, the opposite of the person Harry had – shit – the person that Harry had fallen for.

"Potter, wake up; you're daydreaming again," Malfoy's voice brought the world back into focus, and Harry realised that he'd been subconsciously holding in his breath. He blinked away the wetness stinging his eyes and nodded, smiling as widely as he could.

"Oh hush, _you_ daydream like you're under the Imperius curse all the time Malfoy, you can hardly lecture me," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he recovered inwardly from his moment of internal revelation.

"So how do you two chaps actually work around the restrictions of the bond then? Providing of course, that you have no way of severing it," Bagman asked, looking between them with mild, nosy curiosity.

"Nah, McGonagall looked everywhere; this is a brand new kind of occurrence, it's never happened before and as far as we know it's irreversible. Really though, working around the bond it's quite easy, the only pain is that I never get time away from this bugger," Draco teased and Harry nudged him playfully, mock glaring at him.

* * *

><p>They spent the rest of the night mingling in the crowd. Most of the people wanted to get Harry to blab about his life. But Draco always interjected at the right moments, talking over the people who tried to direct Harry to painful places of conversation. Really, everything had changed so much in the last year. A role reversal had been so astronomical; the way Draco stood next to him, seemingly relaxed but always touching some part of him now and again, just to make sure he was still there, despite the fact that they could sense each other's emotions from across the room.<p>

Harry wondered if it had something to do with Draco's fear of abandonment. Malfoy's mother was so withdrawn and distant these days. Whenever they'd gone to visit her; she'd simply sat on a rocking chair in the corner of the room staring into space, stunning green eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. And Lucius, although never anything but a dark figure to Draco, had died before he'd had the chance to tell him how much he'd hated him.

Bellatrix had been a crazy killing machine by the time he'd been able to walk.

Harry supposed that he was probably the closest anyone had ever been to Draco Malfoy actually. Peachy.

* * *

><p>As soon as they got into their flat, Draco took off his own blazer and flung it sideways to the dark green velvet sofa, loosening his tie as he went straight into the kitchen. Harry knew Malfoy was stressed and agitated, he could feel it niggling at the back of his brain and he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe, watching as Draco made himself a glass of whiskey.<p>

"You okay?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side a little as Malfoy rolled his tongue around his closed mouth, spreading the bitter taste.

"Fine," he said shortly, swallowing the liquid and leaning back against the worktop.

"Draco," Harry sighed reproachfully.

"Potter," Malfoy replied, copying Harry's tone and taking another drink.

"I'm serious, you can't go to bed in this mood, we've got work in the morning," Harry insisted, walking forward and taking the glass from Draco's hand, surprised when the blonde didn't even resist.

"I'm not in a mood," he said, not looking at Harry.

"Sure you're not," Harry rolled his eyes "you forget that I can feel whenever you're pissed off," Harry placed the glass on the worktop next to them and flicked Draco's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes angrily.

"How can I forget that Potter? I'm reminded every fucking day," he snapped.

Harry rebuked, raising one eyebrow, widening his eyes slightly. Malfoy tried to stay angry, but failed, sighing, rolling his head back slightly in a semi-circle to release a few of the muscle knots in his neck, clenching his jaw.

"Sorry, it's not you," he admitted "I just hate having to do that. I never used to have a problem with it when I was a kid; a couple of years ago I could small talk and charm until my voice ran out, but-"

"But you're not that kid anymore. Back then you were used to pretending you were someone you're not. But now you can be who you are most of the time, it's a shock to the system when you have to go back to complimenting awful hats and flirting with vulgar women, am I right?" Harry said with a small smirk and once again, Malfoy wouldn't meet his eyes.

His stiff posture collapsed a little and his shoulders hunched forward slightly.

"You're always on par these days Potter, it's bloody frustrating," he grumbled and Harry smiled now, affectionately ruffling his blonde hair out of place. Draco didn't even bother to push his hand away.

"We'll avoid the ministry parties for a couple of months if it affects you this much," Harry granted, watching the way Malfoy drew in a deep calming breath while he unknotted his tie for him.

"Stop it Potter, I know what you're doing," Malfoy said bluntly, still not looking at him properly.

"I'm not doing anything," Harry replied, raising one eyebrow in genuine confusion before he realised that he was being a little too touchy feely. He let go of Draco's tie, moving to step back.

"Look, we don't need to talk about this right now if you don't want to-"

"But when are we going to? How long can I avoid it? Its fucking up my head Potter, I have a job to do now, I have bills to pay and a fucking life to live," he sighed "its fuckin weird," Malfoy tried to explain "I'm not used to being this comfortable"

Harry felt his heart quicken slightly and he could feel Malfoy's angst gathering a lump in his throat, sitting heavily in his chest. Suddenly, the four walls seemed that little bit closer. Harry sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and biting his tongue. To hell with boundaries. He reached his hand out and pulled Malfoy's head to his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around his lower back.

Malfoy gathered himself eventually and moved his head back up again.

"This system Potter," be began "it works because we give a shit about each other, right? Because we respect each other?" he continued carefully and Harry nodded.

"We're friends," Harry agreed.

"I'm not frightened of what my feelings for you mean about my reputation or my ancestry. I'm more worried about what happens if this goes wrong. What happens if we fuck it up and we're not romantically involved anymore? You said it before, we can't walk away from each other because the bond won't let us. If we have to stop, for whatever reason, things are just going to go back to how they were between us before we were friends. We'll end up hating each other again," Malfoy spoke in a serious tone, wetting his lips "being enemies was a lot simpler, but it was also a fuck load more stressful. As annoying and irritating as you are Potter, I don't want to go back to fighting with you all the time"

But for the first time, Harry was the one that initiated the kiss. He just – he just needed it. He needed it to ground him, to be sure, and also because… well, he just really liked kissing Draco Malfoy. Whatever, fuckin sue him.

This time, it wasn't particularly heated or desperate - it was slow, tender; like the crackling fire in the winter. Harry struggled not to laugh at that simile in his head, because Malfoy would fuckin cringe and comment on how gay it was. Instead, he focused on Draco's soft lips and the way in which the asshole always had to have the control. A few moments later, breathless and slightly dazed, Harry slid his arms around Malfoy's shoulders loosely, leaning their foreheads together.

"Our best quality is the fact that we shouldn't work, but we do. Maybe we can just… try. And if it doesn't work out," Harry said, shaking his head when Malfoy made to interrupt "then we'll talk it through; we'll deal with it because either way, you're my friend and I don't really intend on bollocksing that up any time soon," Harry said quietly, closing his eyes when Draco pressed another gentle kiss to his lips that marked surrender.

Fucking finally.

"I swear, if you start acting like a fluffly little housewife, I'll rip your balls off Potter," Malfoy said gruffly, obviously sulking. He hated being defeated.

"Well that wouldn't be good, because we need those," Harry replied with a teasing, lazy grin and he didn't miss the mini smirk Malfoy allowed himself before it disappeared abruptly.

"I'm tired, let's go to bed," he huffed, obviously still a little restless and exhausted. Harry nodded, fully on board with that plan.

"I'll be up in a second; Hermione wanted me to ring her tonight and let her know how the party went," Harry said, turning away and going back into the living room.

"Yeah right, you just want to gossip," Draco called as he went the other way, out the other kitchen door and up the stairs to the bedroom they shared. Despite having much more leeway from the bond during the day; both still found it impossible to sleep in separate rooms. It had just seemed more practical to buy a double bed when they'd moved in. Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that they'd been harbouring feelings for each other for at least five months, not in the slightest.

Malfoy threw his tie and shirt to the floor of the bedroom, jumping down on the bed and letting his thoughts consume him. It was surreal. Apparently he was now dating Harry Potter? Holy mother of all fuck; that was something he never in a million years thought he'd even be considering.

This was going to be difficult, a lot of people were going to have a lot of different opinions on this. Granger, of course, would be fucking infuriatingly delighted. She'd been routing for them for weeks, months even. And Draco was almost ashamed of the hold Potter had over him, there weren't a lot of people he was this loyal to. He wasn't in love with him, but he did give a shit.

"Fuck sake," Draco breathed out, kicking his shoes off and pulling his trousers down his legs, settling in bed with the duvet lazily pooling at his waist, his arms up behind his head, staring at the roof of their four poster. Potter wouldn't be up for another hour or so, especially if he was on the phone to Granger; it was like listening to Chris Colfer and Lea Michele when those two were talking a mile a minute.

He wondered, briefly if he'd have the same relationship with Potter now, if it weren't for the bond. He came up with the answer easily – no. Not exactly anyway. He'd still have gone to Potter sooner or later and said sorry, and the civility would have calmed into friendship. Maybe they wouldn't know each other so well, not the ins and outs of each other's minds, but they'd be friends at least, he was sure of it.

Take away the years of hate and the fact that Draco had worked for the man that had ruined his life, Potter was the kind of man Draco would normally get on with. The kind of man he'd be close friends with if they'd met under different circumstances.

But Draco fell asleep wondering not what life would be like without the bond, but what new head fuck tomorrow would bring.


	9. Chapter 9

"Harry?" Hermione asked a little tiredly as she answered the phone.

"Sorry, I know you're probably in bed," he apologised, not being able to keep the ridiculous grin off his face.

"No, I'm still on set actually – Tom, quit playing with my guitar kearring, it's not a duck! Sorry Harry, what were you saying?" she asked, distracted and Harry laughed, shaking his head. He really missed his friends these past few weeks, and his little phone conversations were like the escape from his usually stressful day.

"Sounds like you're having fun," Harry scoffed and she chuckled a little.

"Naa, Thomas is just a _goofball_ that can't sit _still_!" she said pointedly and he heard a couple of laughs from the other side of the line.

"Is this the Tom that Malfoy's mentioned a few times?" Harry asked, and he could practically see her bursting with impatience and amusement wherever she was. Last time he'd checked in, they'd been in Los Angeles sucking up the sun and playing a couple of gigs. Hermione was a very safe person – she liked her books and her studying, but she was also a very good singer, and thoroughly enjoyed exercising that talent. He was so happy that she was spending time expressing herself in that way now she had the means and the confidence to do so, and he was uber glad that Ron was being supportive and patient with her.

"Yes," she confirmed "Harry, what did you want to tell me? I'm curious now," she exclaimed.

"What makes you think I want to say anything?" he teased and he could just picture her rolling her eyes at him dramatically.

"Well, I know what your voice sounds like when you're grinning which means despite the fact that you spent the night at that ministry party, something _good _has happened," she unravelled and he wondered whether he should be worried about how well she knew him. He also considered whether she'd be better suited to a career in psychology or counselling.

"It was a horrible night and Draco came home in a right strop," Harry started.

"So what happened?" she asked eagerly, but with a hint of seriousness.

"I managed to get him to calm down"

"He only ever calms down properly for you, that's so cute-"

"Focus Hermione, I'm telling a story here," he insisted and she stopped talking abruptly, listening to him again "I got him to calm down and then we were talking and we came around to this thing that's been going on between us-"

"I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I've been telling this to Ron for weeks but he's refusing to believe-"

"Hermione"

"Right, yeah, focus," she breathed and he laughed again, feeling a tiny pang in his heart for how much he was missing her.

"So we were talking about it and then-"

"Then?"

"Then I kissed him," he said simply, smiling properly all over again, wondering how long this ridiculously embarrassing good mood would last.

Squeals erupted on the other side of the phone and he had some idea that she'd been telling her friends about her hopes of a relationship between him and Malfoy. Honestly, out of everyone, Harry had been particularly surprised at how quickly Hermione had forgiven Draco. She probably had more cause than anyone else to hate him – whilst Harry could get over their past with him, he would never forget the way Draco had treated them all – but she'd been pleasantly okay with having to allow Draco a permanent place in their lives. He was proud of what they'd all managed to accomplish – Malfoy was not an easy person to like on the surface, and seven years of animosity and hate was not the simplest thing to let go of.

"Calm down! Calm down, it's just early days, I've convinced him to just see how it goes"

"Harry Potter, I freaking love you"

* * *

><p>"Potter, what the hell have you been doing all day? You look like you've been fighting the war again," Malfoy frowned as he met Harry outside the double doors of the Auror department, looking him up and down with a slightly alarmed expression.<p>

"Our trainer was in a bad mood, she ran us all into the ground," Harry explained, thanking Draco with a brief nod when he handed him a handkerchief to wipe his forehead with.

"Hold on, if she's letting her personal life affect her work then why is she even here?" Draco asked, puzzled and Harry smiled, shrugging as they exited the ministry together, rising above the ground in the phone box.

"Because she's an excellent Auror and I've learned a lot from her in the last two weeks, regardless of how difficult she can be sometimes," Harry replied, squinting a little against the sun "what did you do today? I know you were only in the room next to me but I still don't fully understand what it is that you do," Harry inquired and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Honestly Potter, for the chosen one, you're really not that bright. I've explained it to you like ten times already, I'm tracking all the rogue deatheaters. I'm in charge of the under sixteens as well, I'm watching them all and where they're going, following them as such until I'm sure they're not causing any trouble anymore. Then, when everything's died down, I'm getting a free pass to become an Auror," Malfoy said, looking a little bored as they got to the designated apparation point.

"Wait, so he's letting you become an Auror without training?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows as Draco took his hand.

"I've already been trained for combat. You didn't think snakeface was going to just let me become a deatheater without making sure I was physically capable? We needed to have proper teaching in how to fight and survive. I'd only need two weeks of briefing for this job, I've got all the basics," he explained and Harry sighed, trying to keep his eyes from flickering to the patch of covered skin on Draco's forearm. He swallowed tightly, taking his other hand as well, getting his eye contact "look, I'll be fine; no temptation just because I'm back in action again, I promise," Malfoy said with a serious expression, their fingers lacing together more comfortably as they took a step closer together.

"I noticed the other day that you're not as worried about what people think about our relationship as I thought you'd be," Harry observed, glancing around them cautiously. No one had picked up on their proximity, not yet anyway.

"Potter, since when have I cared about what anyone but you thinks of me?" he spoke matter-of-factly, letting go of Harry's hand and shamelessly wrapping his arms around his shoulders loosely, smirking against his lips.

"You're in a good mood," Harry couldn't help smiling widely "should I be frightened?" Harry chuckled, capturing his lips in a soft, chaste kiss.

"You should always be frightened Potter," Malfoy replied and before Harry could come up with a cheeky reply, he'd apparated them to a bar they liked on the posher side of Bracknell.

* * *

><p>"Disney! There's a Disney store at the mall Hermione!" Tom squealed, jumping up and down a couple of times as she laughed, nodding along. Ron rolled his eyes fondly and went to get a drink from one of the backstage vending machines.<p>

"Right, and I suppose Chris practically had the same reaction," she guessed and Tom laughed, his face taking on a more serious look and sitting next to her, looking over her shoulder at the book she was reading.

"The Hunger Games? Oh dear, what's bothering you?" he asked, pouting in sympathy and she frowned innocently.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied, feigning innocence, not meeting his hazel green eyes

"You don't read the Hunger Games unless you're trying to assure yourself that your life isn't as bad as you think it is... what's getting you down Hermione?" Tom asked again, swiping the book from her hands and hiding it behind her back "did Brad steal your shoes again? Because I did tell him the other day that pink is not his colour-"

"No!" she exclaimed, laughing and gently hitting him as he threw up his hands in surrender before meeting her with a head on look, silently demanding that she stop distracting him and get talking "I just... miss my friends," she sighed, her body deflating a little as she stared at the ground, her back hunched ever so slightly as she pulled her cardigan around her tighter. He smiled sadly at her, nodding and putting the book on the chair next to him on the other side, sliding an arm around her and drawing her into his body heat.

"Now _that_ is something I can relate to," he stated, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"You miss your friends?" she asked, nuzzling her cheek against the fabric of his blue T-shirt. One of the most interesting things about Tom was his fashion sense – it was comfortable, yet personal and customised so specifically to his personality. She liked him most when he was wearing the transformers tops and old blue jeans.

"Every day," he said "Beth the most, but I miss them all. I know what it's like Hermione, I feel a constant pull; I get overwhelmed sometimes with the want to go back and see them, like some days I could just forget about the jump I made moving away, forgetting the apartment full of stuff I have three blocks away, forgetting that LA is my home now – and getting the first plane back to Michigan.

But our friends, they wouldn't thank us for giving up this new life and this band and our minor audience; they'd kick our arses because they know how much we love it. It doesn't matter how much we miss them, or how much they miss us; this is what we want more, this job is so difficult to be successful with, and we're doing well. Don't worry about missing your friends Hermione. Enjoy this experience, work hard at it and have fun with your friends here, you'll love it more when you _do _get to go back and see them," Tom said, pulling away slightly and holding her face in his hands.

"I tell you what, why don't you come to Michigan with me after this season; we'll spend some time in the studio and maybe I can even swing you an audition for this new theatre thing my buddies are starting," he offered, his hazel eyes twinkling at her more every second the way they always did when he was trying to persuade her to do something.

"Alright, but I need to talk to Ron about it and okay it with him," she said, laughing when he fist pumped the air and handed her the guitar, picking up his own and strumming a few new experimental notes.

With just those few moments where he'd assured her that she wasn't the only one missing her true routes, she was feeling marginally better.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy, I got another invite," Harry mentioned, squinting a little and gritting his teeth in readiness for the backlash when Malfoy was sat cross legged on the sofa next to him eating sushi with chopsticks with typical ease. EastEnders was on the TV in the background but they'd been having more conversation and eating more food than they were paying attention to the soap opera. Besides, Draco hated it and only put up with it because Harry liked them.<p>

Draco's hand paused before he chewed a little and put the chopsticks on his plate, swallowing and looking at him.

"What for?" he spoke carefully, obviously trying to hide his discontempt and hatred for having to parade in public. Harry frowned, a little unclear as to the details of it all himself actually.

"I'm not sure," he admitted "it came by muggle post, it's an invite to the latest event being held by the… Trevor Project?" Harry tried to explain, not quite sure what the Trevor Project even was. Draco's eyebrows hit the top of his head and he coughed a little in surprise.

"Are you sure?" he asked, bewildered and Harry nodded, still looking perplexed.

"What is it?" Harry catechized.

"The Trevor Project are a huge muggle charity started to raise awareness for the LGBT community," Draco elaborated and Harry creased his brow, taking a sip from his beer bottle, running a hand through his messy hair and breathing in a couple of times.

"How did the muggles get this address?" Harry further inquired "and more importantly; how do they even know who we are?"

"Some of the higher ministry officials have direct contact with a couple of muggle organisations – dealing with discrimination is important in both the muggle world and the wizarding world, the ministry have always had links with the oppressed communities in muggle society. Fuck, I bet it was some asshat at the event last month," Draco guessed, shaking his head and cursing under his breath in irritation. If there was one thing Malfoy fucking despised, it was other people getting involved and sticking their noses into his relationships, and making decisions for him without consulting him first.

"Did they invite us on the red carpet?" he queried, gulping the remains of his beer and adjusting his leg position slightly so they didn't go numb.

"Yeah, it says to arrive on the carpet between five and half past on the twentieth of December," Harry said, sitting up "be honest, do you really want to go?"

"No," Draco sighed "not really. I've been donating to the charity for the last year," he announced and Harry did a double take, eyebrows shooting up his forehead once more.

"You didn't mention this"

"You didn't ask," Draco shrugged nonchalantly, although Harry detected a hint of a small blush in the young blonde's pale cheeks, he didn't like it when people acknowledged his good deeds, it wasn't something he was used to.

"Well," Harry grinned suddenly, an idea popping into his head as he put his food down, crawling slowly so he was sat in Malfoy's lap, straddling him "we could make an extra-large donation instead of attending the actual event. We could go away for the weekend instead, take a road trip to France or something," he suggested, pursing his lips together and playing with the buttons on Malfoy's shirt.

"Don't you have a shit load of work to do this weekend Potter? Your theory is next Thursday-"

"It's fine, I already have all the answers I need memorised anyway, I'm sorted for that. If we _do_ go away though, you're paying. I've been paying for our take outs and meals all month, it's your turn to put your hand in your pocket," he said, gently pressing small kisses to random parts of Draco's face, not being very subtle with his little persuasion techniques. Draco followed his lips with his eyes, looking more and more defeated by the second as Potter deliberately wiggled his hips and blood rushed to a certain area.

"Fine," he said "but I better get rewarded for this," Malfoy pouted, finally catching Harry's lips with his own.

"You'll get your reward, don't worry," Harry grinned, breath fanning over his skin "but muggle hotels don't have automatic silencing charms on their bedrooms, so you'll need to remind me even if we're drunk," Harry teased and Draco smirked, rolling his eyes and shoving him sideways onto the other end of the sofa.

"Just eat your food Potter, you're terrible at being seductive"

"But you love it"

"Unfortunately," Draco grumbled, going back to his stir fry.

* * *

><p>Ron drew in a deep breath and swallowed, observing the mess of the two day bender he'd been on. Hermione had been on set for the last fourty eight hours because the band still couldn't seem to get certain aspects of some of their songs up to performance standards.<p>

He just – jesus he really fucking missed her. He very rarely saw her anymore and on the occasion that she did come home after work, she was too tired to have a coherent conversation with him. He knew she was happy and that she absolutely loved working on her music; he would never want to take that from her. But he just wished he could see her more, spend a little time with her.

And it was even worse now because they'd had a huge argument the last time they'd spoken.

She wanted to go to Michigan by herself with Thomas to work on some new stuff after she'd finished with the band for the season, and Ron, knowing that the break between her work was the only time he was going to get to see her properly in the year, was angry about it.

Maybe he was being selfish, maybe his growing tendency to drink in the daytime and be sloshed almost every afternoon, was putting more of a strain on their relationship than was necessary.

He just couldn't help it; he got stressed with being unemployed, then he got upset with Hermione, then he started thinking about Fred, and he just – sometimes, well, most of the time actually, Ron just wanted to forget.

"Ron, I'm sorry but we're gonna be stuck here for the next couple of days until we get this right for Thursday's gig. I promise we can spend some time together on the weekend though. I know you're probably still mad about our argument earlier, but we can talk about it when I come home next… you know that I love you, don't you? Uggh, jesus, I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll call you later. Love you," the machine bleeped on and then off, and once again he was left with nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

* * *

><p>Draco's dream was very random and it had come to him quite suddenly, so strongly that he felt trapped in it; almost as though he was comatose. He knew he was dreaming and he wanted nothing more than to wake up, but he couldn't force it – he was being restrained in his own body to watch the entire memory.<p>

_"Potter, what are you doing? It's pissing it down with rain," Malfoy snapped, genuinely curious as to what his enemy was up to. It really was pouring with rain, so much so that the moment he stepped into it, Draco was pretty much drenched, the water swamping him down, making his clothes heavy and see through. _

_"Potter?" Draco repeated, irritated now, moving to grab Potter's shoulder and make him face the right way. But as the young saviour did turn around, his fist collided with Draco's face._

_"What the fuck?" Draco yelled in outrage as he stumbled backward slightly, his head spinning a little as he reached up and touched the side of his mouth, looking at his fingers and growling when he saw the blood. Potter just stood there, eyes blank and unseeing. Then, suddenly, the Gryffindor shoved passed him, casting a drying charm on himself as he went._

_Malfoy followed after him, the anger and curiosity too strong in him to just let it be._

_"Potter, I asked you a fucking question; what the fuck did you just hit me for?" Draco demanded, drying himself over as the side of his face throbbed._

_"For making me into __**this**__!" Potter strained loudly, whipping around as his eyes settled on Draco._

_"I haven't done anything" Draco growled, moving his jaw around a little to assess the damage "I only asked you why you were snooping around outside in this weather"_

_"You haven't done anything?" Potter spat viciously "from the moment I got here, I hated you! You __**made**__ me hate you Malfoy! Before I could even start my life in this world I was angry and bitter, I was fighting before I even knew about Voldemort. And I'm furious right now, and it's all down to you"_

_"I didn't do this to you Potter!" Draco said loudly and incredulously "you're talking bullshit, you're not making any sense and you can't just blame all of your shit on me, I haven't even spoken you since…" Malfoy trailed off, willing himself not to think about the war or the fact that despite all the trouble he'd caused, Potter had still risked his own life to save him, even though they hated each other._

_"NO! No, I can blame you, I can!" Potter yelled, his eyes spaced out, disorientated; it was as though he was arguing more dominantly with himself, the internal struggle to remain grounded blindingly evident on the young wizard's face._

_"Potter – Merlin, just… go back to your common room, take some sleeping pills or something and stop-"_

_But Potter was lurching at him again and this time, he felt gravity drag him down, his back hitting the floor with a slam and his head smacking the stone with force that very nearly knocked him out. He held onto his consciousness however, trying hard to focus on the pain._

_Reality pulled him from a vaporous type of cloud infecting his mind and, reflexively, he caught Potter's fist with his hand, shooting his other hand straight at Potter's eye, struggling desperately to get his even standing. He despised the sensation of being immured, it was a huge phobia and trigger he'd been left with since the war and its unforgiving aftermath. It was difficult to try and bring air into his lungs and it felt as though a knife was stabbing him every time he was able to draw in some form of Oxygen. Punctured lung then, great._

_They grappled for a little while, Draco just managing to get a few hits in, a head-butt here and there until the headache was too much to bear and red obfuscating his vision was forcing him to fight off a panic attack. Just as his arms dropped lethargically to his sides and Potter lifted the final fist; just as he began to anticipate the blow that would possibly kill him, or crush his skull and whatnot, Potter paused._

_Not even a full centimetre away from Draco's face, Potter's hovered, fist raised beside him, aimed at his right eye. But Potter's pupils flickered for a single second; perhaps registering the fear Draco had tried so hard to keep off his facial features, and hesitated._

_It was only for a second, and then Potter moved off him._

_"Potter," he breathed._

And then suddenly, Draco was being shaken awake, strong hands on his pale biceps, trying to draw consciousness from him.

"Draco?"

It took him a few seconds to realise that it was Potter. Everything was back again, there wasn't any pain and Harry, _his_ Harry; was there with him.

"_Shit_," Draco cursed, eyes widening as he tried to grasp the corners of reality, the aftermath of the dream still stinging at the nooks of his blurred psyche. And then Potter was drawing him into a tight embrace, hand holding the back of his hair, reminding him that he was safe, that things were different now.

Before Draco even realised, before he could curse himself for being so weak, before he could stop himself, he burst into tears, clinging to Potter like it was his last string of life, as though if he let go, he'd just be left with the boy who he'd hated; the boy he'd fought with for seven years. The boy he was living with. No, the man he was living with, the man who knew him inside out no matter how much he disliked it, the man who he was dating. The man he was falling for.

"I'm so sorry Malfoy," Harry whispered against his shoulder, pressing a tear tainted kiss to his shoulder and hugging him tighter "I'm so sorry," he repeated, the sheer amount of anguish in his voice earthshattering. This was ridiculous. There was no way that all their years of fighting and animosity and competition and fear and pain and hate had all lead to this. What a hot, beautiful mess they'd gotten themselves into.

And Draco believed him.

"Potter, get your hands off of me if you want to keep them," Draco sighed as Harry came up behind him the next morning, sliding his arms up the front of Draco's chest and pressing an absent minded kiss to his neck.

"I need my hands," he mumbled softly and sleepily in reply "will you stop freaking threatening my body parts already? You're a terrible boyfriend," he huffed in addition, but simply smiled when he felt Draco's own lips press momentarily against his wrist before he pulled away.

"I'm a _boyfriend_ now am I?" he teased, scribbling a signature at the bottom of an application form.

"Well you're not an alien are you?" Harry remarked sarcastically, starting to eat the toast laid out on a plate for him and taking a swig of the coffee next to it.

"Really? I was under the impression that I was from an entirely different, much superior planet to this one," he replied in almost a bored way, sitting at the table with him and flicking the Prophet open "that is the only explanation for why I'm being forced to share good carbon dioxide with these imbecilic morons. Did you know Granger's made the wizarding papers again? They're gushing about her band in LA. Christ you'd think they'd figure out how much she really doesn't live up to this ridiculous scandalous persona the press give her by now," Draco complained loudly, raising his eyebrows and drinking his own coffee.

"Actually I was going to mention her, but I forgot about it. I hear from Hermione all the time, but I never talk to Ron anymore. She always sounds so hesitant and weird when I bring him up," Harry wondered aloud and Draco shrugged.

"There's probably just a little trouble in paradise. I always thought Granger would be an animal in the bedroom and if I'm being honest, Weasel doesn't really fit the same criteria, does he?" Malfoy wondered aloud, ignoring Harry's glare and chuckling a little at his shudder.

"Uggh, not an image I want in my head this early in the morning," Potter grimaced and Draco grinned evilly.

"How about me on my knees-"

"You put that one in my mind and we won't make it to work today, behave," Harry scolded, unable to stop the hot blush creeping up his bare neck as he repressed a smile.

"You love it. How is Granger anyway?" Draco said, flipping to the next page as his eyes scanned a few tiny paragraphs that caught his attention now and again.

"She's fine, she's made loads of new friends apparently. She was telling off that Thomas guy when I talked to her a few weeks back," Potter informed and Draco lifted his head, his eyes widening a little.

"Really? She doesn't seem like the type to be friends with someone as – well, someone like him," Malfoy said and Harry shrugged again.

"She's friends with _us_, and we're complete gooftwats sometimes," Potter considered and Draco mock glared at him before going back to reading. It was only when he was on the last page and they were in a heated debate about the ranking of the Harpies on the Quidditch boards, that Potter's phone rang.

"Accio," he muttered, catching it when it slid of the marble kitchen counter and flew into his hand "Ron?" Potter asked, intrigued.

"Uggh, Ginger tumour," Malfoy groaned, rolling his eyes as he sat back in his chair, watching Potter as he listened to Weasley on the other end of the phone.

"You _what_?" Harry hissed in outrage and Malfoy's brow furrowed.

"What's going on?" he mouthed but Harry just looked angry. Furious actually. Not a good thing, if Draco had learned anything in the last two years of living with him.

"Ron, I swear, I'm going to kill you when I get my hands on - no you absolute fucktard! I will not bloody well help you! Go and tell her, right now! You've got clearance to the studio, go tell her!" Harry yelled through the phone across the room, dropping back into his seat, breathing heavy, hands shaking, throat bobbing with the force it took to swallow the emotion.

"Jesus Potter, what the fuck has he done?" Draco demanded, trying to keep his temper in check.

There weren't a lot of things that could make Draco really, really angry these days, but anyone who made Potter like this was normally ready to die before they'd even taken a step away from the argument.

"He's cheated on Hermione," Harry said roughly, the sound gravelling and strained from the bottom of his chest.

So not only had the ginger bastard risked triggering Potter into having another rage spike (which were a bitch to deal with when the bastard got himself going), but he'd also betrayed Granger, who, although Draco didn't often admit it, was the only other person he felt truly protective over these days.

"Right then," he said simply, breathless with the force of the throbbing fury vibrating through the mental link "he's dead" he spoke simply, moving to stand up and get dressed. Harry grabbed his wrist to stop him, shaking his head, standing up in front of him.

"Oh no you don't," Potter said, chest rising and falling with laboured, lethargic movements "as much as I'd like to murder Ron right now, we're both still unstable with our tempers. We're linked; you seem to forget that. It's ten times heightened," Potter reasoned. It was proof of how far he'd come, the fact that despite the fury vociferating beneath his rib cage, barely contained, he could still compose himself enough to grab a hold of conscious, rational thought.

"So what are we going to do? Sit around and let him get away with this? Not my style Potter," Draco snapped sharply, moving to leave the kitchen again. This time however, Potter grabbed his face, holding him in place, forcing eye contact.

"No," he said firmly "we're going to get dressed, take the week off work and catch the next plane to LA so we can deal with the fallout when Hermione really does get wind of this. Ron wouldn't have just done this for no reason, I _know_ he loves Hermione, I _know _he wants to be with her. Something has obviously caused this. But she's the one that needs us right now-"

Harry was cut off by Draco grabbing his face right back and pressing a rough, hard kiss to his lips.

"You're too fucking good for me Potter," Malfoy stated, glaring once more before going to the bedroom to get dressed.

Harry blinked numbly for a few seconds, registering and trying to distinguish the amount of emotions running through his system before he slowly brought his fingers to his lips, smiling for a moment. The grin wasn't going to be there much in the next couple of weeks judging by the state of Ron and Hermione's relationship, so he took a second to revel in it.

* * *

><p>Harry and Draco were confronted by wizarding camera flashes the moment they got to the airport, but were both too preoccupied and angry to smile for them. Instead, Draco took a tight hold on Harry's hand and dragged him on further through the throng, allowing a few security guards to push their approachers back. The public acknowledgement of their relationship sent the press into a frenzy, but both were too pissed off to care at that moment and they apparated straight through the boarding gate onto the plane with their luggage.<p>

Draco being Draco had called ahead and ordered them a private jet that would get them there much faster. Harry still couldn't get used to how very muggle his pureblood boyfriend was at times, as he always seemed to have his wallet split between numerous ten pound notes, and slightly fewer gold galleons. But Harry didn't question it, and they didn't talk much when the plane took off.

"We going straight to Hermione, or have you _brought_ us a damn hotel?" Harry asked sarcastically after half an hour and Draco, who was working hard to keep most of the emotion from his face, shook his head.

"I've booked us a hotel room for the week. We'll drop our things off and go to Wealseltwat's flat first, see what he has to say for himself. Ring Granger," he gestured to Potter's pocket.

Harry immediately took his phone out and pressed a few numbers, taking in a deep, shaky breath and holding it to his ear, exchanging a worried glance with Draco.

"Harry, you have no idea how happy I am that you've called me!" her voice exclaimed as soon as she picked up and it physically pained him that she sounded so happy when her heart was about to be shattered.

"Oh right, and why is that?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible.

"I just found out that I've got a couple of days off this weekend and I wanted to spend it with Ron because he's been feeling a little... neglected lately, even if he won't admit it. I wouldn't have called you this weekend and I haven't had an excuse to take time out to talk," she explained and Harry had to swallow the urge to try and warn her.

"That'll… that'll be nice," he forced out and he knew he was being transparent.

"Yes, it will," she said, her tone suddenly suspicious "Harry, are you okay? You sound a bit off, is everything alright with Draco?" she asked, her voice holding that worrying note again and he wanted nothing more than to yell the news down the phone at her, just to get it over with and spare her the pain. But it had to come from Ron.

"Yeah, everything with Draco's fine-"

Malfoy growled, snatching the phone off him and coughing to clear his throat.

"Greetings, night troll," Malfoy said with spectacularly good acting skills as usual, even if the usual fond light in his eyes that was present when he was teasing Hermione, had gone out.

"Draco, how lovely to hear your voice," she replied sarcastically and he scoffed, clenching his jaw a little "you two aren't breaking up are you? Because that would break my Drarry heart," she said and Draco actually allowed himself to arch both his eyebrows in momentary outrage.

"Did you just say 'Drarry'?" he exclaimed and she laughed from the other end of the line. Even Harry had to hide his amused smirk.

"Well, yeah. You know, like 'Klaine' and 'Destiel' and 'Johnlock" she said and he looked even more unamused by the minute.

"Oh please don't tell me you actually support the idea of Holmes and Watson? Oh wait, that's actually a valid point, don't answer that-"

Harry snatched the phone back this time, glaring at Draco for losing the point of their new destination.

"Sorry about that Hermione, believe it or not, I rang for a reason other than for Draco to get into a ridiculous argument with you," Harry said and he could practically hear Hermione rolling her eyes.

"So what did you call me for then?" she asked, sounding a little offended.

"It actually doesn't matter now, we've sorted it out why we've been talking to you, it was just something we've been researching," he lied a little easier, even though it was still pretty feeble.

"Oh, well okay then... I don't buy it, but okay. Look Harry, I'm really sorry but I'm being called back on set now, I've got a final song to finish up on before I go home to see Ron," she said, accepting his goodbye and hanging up.

"I'm going to kill him," Harry asseverated, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

"Get in line Potter, I want the first punch"

* * *

><p>It had been a long, long time since she'd felt like this. Numb, unable to truly register anything around her. Everything felt wrong, and yet even though she couldn't think properly, her heart was crippling more every second. It was hard, she thought, to remember the people they used to be. The children before the war. She couldn't grasp the old Hermione as tightly as she'd always been able to do so, and she felt as though she'd betrayed herself slightly.<p>

But this pain was not her fault, she maybe had been working too hard, or for too long and she'd sacrificed some of herself along with it. But this life was what she wanted, what she truly loved; singing, it was what she was good at.

"Hermione," a voice penetrated the deep sea swirling in her brain and she blinked once, two tears spilling over and rolling down her face, mouth slightly open as she looked at Harry who had come into the room at one point. She couldn't even remember him coming to the country, he was supposed to be in England.

But that was the least of her concerns at that moment.

"Hermione sweetheart, you need to leave; they're closing down for the night in a minute," Harry said gently, lifting a hand to her face and cupping it, his thumb stroking away one of the tears.

"Granger, c'mon; let's get you home," Malfoy added in a stunningly considerate tone, taking one of her hands in his from her lap. It was warm and soft and ghostly pale, a notion that was making no difference to the turmoil stabbing at her gut every time she attempted to breathe.

Finally, as Draco knelt on one knee, slipping a strong arm under her legs and scooping her up, standing easily back to his full height, she let out a single choked sound of despair, burying her head into the soft material of his dark purple cardigan, hiding from the world. Before now she'd been frightened to cry or move from the spot where Ron had told her of his affair, for fear of falling apart in every sense of the word. But Draco had her now; her boys had her, and she wasn't going anywhere on their watch. For now, she would be able to sleep.

* * *

><p>"What are we going to do with her? I've seen her like this before; she takes weeks to come out of her stupors, and months to smile properly again. I have no idea how to make this better for her-"<p>

"Shut up Potter, breathe," Malfoy snapped, holding him out by the shoulders and looking right at him, neutral and firm as ever. But Harry could feel the underlining anger in Draco and he was just as anxious for Hermione as he was.

"Weasley is going to come by in the morning, you know he will. We just need to make sure she's sleeping and eating and that we keep him away until she can handle it. Go make some coffee and I'll try to talk to her," Draco instructed, stopping for a second, seemingly considering something before sighing and slipping his arms around the back of Harry's shoulder blades, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders in return "it's going to be fine Potter, we'll help her as much as we can," he repeated, pulling back a little and pressing a single, quick kiss to his lips before heading for Hermione's bedroom again.

* * *

><p>"Granger, wake up, you lazy bitch! You've been asleep for sixteen hours," Draco spoke loudly, sitting on the double bed next to her and shaking the hand that was resting on her diaphragm a little. Slowly, her eyes flickered open and for a second, as she registered her surroundings, he could tell that she'd forgotten about Ron and what he'd done; her gaze full of beautiful, unknowing innocence before reality kicked in. The gaze was ruined with tears that made him even angrier with Weasley and he had to push away the irritation for a second so he would be able to help her without being too much of a dick.<p>

"What time is it?" she gasped, sitting up and looking frantically around for her alarm clock.

"Its fine Granger, I spoke to Thomas, he's managing without you for a week or two," Draco told her, rolling his eyes, having to put on his best acting to pretend that things, at least with him, were pretty normal.

"I'd have been sent home anyway," she breathed, pulling herself into a sitting position on the pillows and cuddling her legs up to her chin, her long brunette waves falling over her face.

"Oh no you don't missy, you're having a shower; you stink of sweat, sleep and tears. Move your perky little arse into that en-suit now," he said, grabbing her legs and yanking them out, ignoring her struggle as he flung her over his shoulder.

"Malfoy you bastard, put me down now! I don't want a shower, I don't want anything!" she yelled, sobbing slightly. But he didn't let himself regret making her cry even more, this was what she needed and Potter was too nice to do it for her.

He dropped her from his shoulder, ripping her shirt up and over her head. She gasped, glaring at him shamelessly and throwing her arms at him, trying to hit his chest. He got a tight hold on her wrists however, sustaining them hard enough to bruise. He was using Pansy tactics now. Whenever he'd gone into this numb-state-thingy, Pansy would deliberately rile him up, getting him to the point where he would actually go to slap her. Then, when she managed by some miracle to catch him, they'd end up having sex against some kind of wall or a bed post.

Of course, he couldn't do that with Granger, he was shagging Potter. If he wanted to make her stop with the erratic screaming and get in touch with her real anger then he'd just have to take whatever was coming to him, because Granger had just as much of a temper as him and Potter when she properly lost her composure. He was right with one thing at least, and as soon as he let go of her wrists, her hand collided hard with his face, stinging and tingling like fire on his skin, echoing all around the bathroom. Already he could see the hate and lividness ebbing away from her wildly stunning eyes.

Draco had pretty much established that he was almost in love with Potter – a predicament he was still trying to wrap his head around, but he could still appreciate a beautiful woman when he saw one, and angry Granger was quite something. Her hair was almost electric, frizzing on end like a cat in heat and her face was flushed and animated, her jaw clenched, elegant cheekbones ten times more defined, forehead creased slightly. Her honey brown eyes were wide and sparkling, the flush of blood creeping under her skin down her neck and over her bare collar bones.

"Hit me again," he said, panting a little with the amount he'd had to struggle with her. She looked completely shocked for a moment before her hands went to her mouth as she started sobbing again.

"Oh my god Draco, I'm so sorry!" she cried in despair, collapsing on the floor. He caught his breath and slid down the wall next to her, putting his arm around her and letting her cry into him, forgetting completely their history of incredibly colourful fights.

"Forget it Granger," he sighed "I'll get you back later or something. Just don't lock it all up – I know from dating a short-tempered asshole that it never gets you anywhere," he said, pressing a rough kiss to the top of her head. Then he remembered that she still needed to shower – she really did stink.

"You got a headache?" he asked briefly and she nodded, sniffing.

"I can't move properly," she coughed out. He knew the feeling, when thoughts were so busy and destructive, it was incredibly difficult to find the strength for something that seemed as insignificant as moving your limbs. He stood up and pulled the shower door open, turning on the water and rolling up his sleeves to test the temperature.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet. She undressed herself, and whilst he was a Malfoy, he still had some semblance of tact and respect – he focused on restocking the medicine/toiletry cupboard for her whilst she stepped under the hot water and began to go about her business.

If someone had told him three years ago that he would be helping Hermione Granger in this way, he'd have kicked them in the balls for being so absurd. But more than once he'd had to lift his mother from a room of laughing deatheaters after a torture session and get her into a hot bath to soothe the spasms and tremors. It was only now that he realised how much he'd grown to care for Granger; although they still hissed at each other like cat and snake, he respected her a lot and missed her when she wasn't telling him off for his bad language and for being an insensitive asshole.

And she'd forgiven him even after all of the horrendous things he'd said and done to her over the years; this was the least he could do for her.


	10. Chapter 10

"How is she?" Harry asked, raising his eyes as Malfoy trudged into the room soaked from head to toe in shower water.

"I made her shower; obviously she took a little persuading first," he replied, gesturing to the mark on his face where she's slapped him.

"At least we know she's still in there somewhere. Mo thanks to my so called best friend" Harry sighed and Malfoy nodded once in agreement; not particularly in the mood to talk about Ronald Weasley at that point in time.

"Draco?"

"What Potter?" Malfoy asked, rubbing the back of his head and neck to loosen the knots there as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, flopping it down on the bedroom floor so he could change into his bed attire – an old t-shirt and sweatpants.

"I realised earlier, we don't talk very much over the link anymore," he spoke thoughtfully and slightly hesitantly, as he always was when approaching a conversation that involved talking about feelings with Draco.

"What's your point?" Malfoy asked with a small frown, not looking at him as he went.

"I'm not sure"

Malfoy sat down cross legged on the bed in front of Harry, clenching his jaw a little bit before relaxing.

"I'm not a sop Potter, you know this. But we don't talk over the link anymore because we don't need to," he admitted with a surprisingly comfortable posture – maybe he was just more talkative because he was tired and jetlagged "if something's bothering me, you know straight away and I don't need to tell you why I'm upset through the link, because I'm not afraid of telling you out loud anymore," Malfoy explained in the usual slightly detached tone he used for these types of conversations. They really didn't have the healthiest of relationships, because they weren't particularly mentally healthy as individuals. Somehow though, they managed to communicate in a way that didn't fuck up their entire relationship, and for that, Harry was more than grateful.

"Good, because you know you can tell me anything you want to, don't you?" Harry's thumb stroked absent minded patterns over Draco's knuckles and he rubbed his itchy eyes, blinking a few times and allowing the touch to calm the ache in the forefront of his mind.

"Potter-"

"I mean, if you think there's something about your past that you thinks going to make me see you as any worse than what you already are, you can tell me. I want to know this stuff, it's a part of you and it's a part of us," Harry tried again with a sort of half smile, his eyes soft yet serious, a slightly nervous disposition inhabiting his body.

"Potter," Draco sighed again, swallowing and shaking his head "you really, really don't want to know about my past, at least not the deatheater parts anyway," he attempted to put it into words "you think the people you've killed makes you a bad person Potter?" he was still speaking in an eerily calm voice, although there was a gentle, honest atmosphere laying itself around them and between them, making it much easier for him to form what he wanted to say "trust me, the things I've done would make you look like the sugarplum fairy"

Harry looked at him for a few moments before turning his body, moving to lie down. He settled his head in Draco's lap and closed his eyes, impervious to the small tutting noise Draco made at the typicality of the position and the way he rolled his eyes before settling into it.

Alright, so Potter was kind of weirdly beautiful in a strange, unconventional kind of way. The square, chiselled jawline, the thin, rouged lips, the slightly tanned, flawless skin, the straight nose, the velvet eyelids. Yes, there wasn't really many other words for him; Potter was beautiful and although Draco knew he had changed drastically by allowing himself to admit this notion, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Potter _was_ his boyfriend after all, he was allowed to find him attractive.

And so Draco gave up fighting the urge to brush a piece of messy black hair from Harry's face, and leant forward, pressing a silent, gentle kiss to his forehead. Harry's eyes flickered open, the emerald pupils fixing on Draco's through the dark black lashes.

"What was that for?" Harry asked, his voice quiet and blissed out.

"I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend now?" he answered but Harry smiled softly, rolling his eyes. But Draco was getting pissed off with skitting around the subject now and he didn't have the patience for it any longer "alright Potter, what do you want to ask?" Malfoy huffed, feeling the last of his resolve dissolving as he gave up the final walls closing him off. It had always seemed like such a big decision, letting someone have complete freedom to his feelings, his mind and past. But right now, it was a lot easier than he'd ever imagined it would be.

"Why were you in a mental institution?" Harry asked calmly, closing his eyes again. Draco sighed, sitting back on his hands and drawing in a rattily breath.

"A lot of things," he said tiredly, a resigned, croaky edge to his voice "you need to understand that this person you're with now is astronomically different to the boy who sat snivelling in that room from my dreams"

"Draco-"

"No," he said, his voice still quiet and controlled as he glanced down at Harry who was looking up at him through droopy eyelids "stop trying to defend me; I'm perfectly aware of what I was. It was always at the back of my mind, I always knew in some way that I'd have to become one of them if The Dark Lord ever returned, I just hoped to hell that it would never come to that"

"But by the time you turned fifteen it was too late, right?" Harry guessed, and Malfoy quirked the corners of his mouth in a sad way and shrugged.

"The ceremony wasn't glorious or like a party, there was nothing patriotic about it. I was forced to my knees and I had three people holding me still so I wasn't going to move or collapse," he slowly drew up the details in his brain, working himself into it so it didn't overwhelm him all at once "I suppose it's like being knighted by the Queen," he offered Harry, who was frowning a little at his description "he stood over me and smiled at me with his wand pointed at my arm," he continued.

"Did – did you enjoy it?" Harry asked, and Malfoy drew in another breath, shaking his head.

"It was the most horrific thing that's ever happened to me"

"How does the mark actually work?" Harry asked, his tone light and curious in an attempt to help the gravity of the conversation "I've always wondered"

"First he uses his own type of legilimency, he kind of whispered something and then he was stood right there in my head, picking out little memories, images. The good ones, it was like... like he turned everything that held some kind of light, and found a way to warp it, turn it grey. When I was serving him, it was like everything was in shades of black and grey," he really started to talk now, and he found that although the words and syllables flowed slowly and fluidly from his lips, he couldn't stop them or filter them "then he could make the connection. It was my right arm, and I felt it before I saw it," his tone was still soft and solid but Harry reached a hand up and started stroking a calming thumb over his thigh nonetheless "it was as though he had crawled from my brain, through the synapses and nerve endings, the veins, burning along until the tingling came," he paused for a moment, looking down at Potter again "are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes," he nodded, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious, lifting the hand to his face and bringing him down to press an upside down kiss to his lips "of course I do, dumbass. But if you don't want to carry on, you don't have to – I'm bloody knackered anyway," he assured him. Draco kept his eyes closed for a moment, before he sat back up and continued.

"My Mother told me afterwards that I'd started spasming, but I don't remember moving, he was trapping my conscious from my limbs, apparently. But the tingling started and I thought it wasn't going to be so bad. I suppose – have you ever asked Granger about what it felt like when Bella was cutting her arm?" Draco asked, and Harry shook his head "it's like getting a tattoo, but it's an open wound. That's what it is; a tattoo that marks you as his, but a scar that cuts into your soul," he explained.

"What was the worst part of it?" Harry asked, simultaneously intrigued and upset.

"Suffering through the night afterward," Draco broke off slightly, his heart pounding. It had been a very, very long time since he'd dipped into those memories and it was actually causing his body to shake now. Harry sat up, moving to sit against the headboard, pulling Draco towards him so he could hold him properly, glaring at him when he dared to try and protest.

"So the pain through the night, was it physical?" Harry asked and Draco shook his head no, huffing again and relaxing into Potter's body, allowing himself the comfort of resting his head on his chest.

"I had a fever – a cold sweat," he replied regally "my mother had to sit with me all night, wiping me up after I'd been sick and renewing the silencing charms when I was screaming. She told me that by letting him into my head, I'd allowed him to brand himself to my mind. It changed me, unhinged me. For the first few nights I don't have any control over what I was seeing. I was hallucinating, throwing up, screaming, breaking things. In the end my Mother had to restrain me to the bed, I was in there for a week, quarantined. After that, they used my psychological state to their advantage. First day I was fit to walk, they put me into the training room and I was forced to pick a prisoner from the dungeon and dunk them in a pit of poisonous insects" Draco managed. His hands were shaking where they were splayed out on Potter's abdomen. Harry took a hold of both of them and gripped them tight, warming them and restraining them. Draco swallowed a lump clogging his throat and drew in a sharp gathering of Oxygen.

"It took a few weeks to get coherent words out of me but when I could talk, they sat me with Bella. She would fire questions at me and punish me if I didn't answer them; the whole thing was to get the information on my personality, so they could gage what stage I was at"

Harry frowned slightly.

"I've heard you mention the stages before – like a spectrum of aggression, right?" he inquired.

"Yes," he answered simply "they told me I was at stage six to start off with; I could hurt people, but only because I was scared of everything, it was a defence mechanism and I was still very weak. So then they put me in another room where we were training for duelling. They weren't going soft on me; within the first week I'd had my entire ribcage repaired twice because I was training with Bella. I swear, the vicious bitch had been waiting my whole childhood to take a crack at me," Draco snorted, doing his best to keep his tone as casual and composed as possible "she was pretty much my mentor through the whole thing. But half way through the second week I got so worked up that I managed to disarm her and restrain her against the wall in one move. I thought she'd get angry and punish me but the insane fuckface just stood there laughing at me. The next day she added me to an elite force they were training. I accidentally killed one of them after an hour of working with them," he paused for another breath and he felt Potter swallow before another kiss was pressed roughly to the top of his scalp and he was pulled in closer.

"There was a lot of anger in me but they knew I couldn't do the things Greyback was assigned for. They knew I wouldn't be able to rape people or slice them up and eat them the way that some of those sick bastards could," Draco trailed off, his eyes fixed on a spot at the bottom of the bed. He might not have been able to do any of those things mentally, but he _had _been forced to watch them.

And the rest of the deatheaters weren't stupid, none of them would stand and silently cry while it was happening, none of them would rush to leave the room after watching Bella carving another one of her masterpieces. They knew from the start that Draco was different, not truly one of them. No, he was just the insane little boy, too weak and frightened to do the real work.

"So they put me on dungeon killing duty. When a prisoner was confirmed to be hours from death, I would be ordered down there to beat them out of life. It was strictly forbidden that I use the actual killing curse. They thought that the Muggles deserved to be killed slowly, terribly and painfully. I suppose I don't have to explain too much of it to you though Potter," he deplored "you know about losing control," Malfoy acknowledged. Harry didn't want Draco to put himself through anymore, but he knew it was necessary to allow him to say as much or as little as he needed to.

"Yes, I know. You told me I was stage ten on the spectrum," Harry remembered, but Draco should his head.

"No," he said, feeling the subject floating away from them, and a heavy lethargy creeping into his limbs "looking back now don't actually think this bullshitted spectrum even exists. And if there is a spectrum of anger, the deatheaters got it wrong, because at my worst point I was ten times more angry than you've ever been," he closed his eyes and nudged at Potter's hand to move so he could lace their fingers together "you can ram your fist into a punch bag and scream yourself hoarse Potter, but you'll hurt yourself before you hurt your friends. I was cold blooded, numb. It got to the point where there was nothing left in me; I was probably so weak minded that one second of legilimency from Voldemort would have finished me off. And I was so fucking furious with myself. I was pissed at everything actually. But you know the only thing that overrides anger Potter? Fear. I was absolutely fucking terrified all the time"

Harry blinked away a stinging wetness in his eyes and wet his chapped lips with his tongue. He remembered the day in the bathroom, the intense emotion he'd seen on Draco's face before he'd cursed him. Had all of that been fear?

"What was the worst thing they ever made you do?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.

"They made me kill this muggle girl. She was the second to last prisoner left in there and she just – she was a stubborn little bitch. She wouldn't give it up; she wouldn't scream for anyone, she refused to eat or sleep, she refused to show any pain. I envied her. She was annoyingly strong, and I was the weak one. _I_ was the one that was worth less than her; a pathetic little dying muggle girl from Essex. I'd done it a lot of times before – beat people and watched them die. I could hear the cracks of her bones and feel the cartilage caving in under my fists and shoes, I could taste the blood splattering on my face but I couldn't stop - I couldn't s-s-stop" Draco shuddered, and Harry could feel wet tears dripping on his shirt, warm in comparison to the cold story he was hearing in Draco's wavering, unhinged voice.

Jesus Christ they'd come so far. It was overwhelming and terrifying to truly consider the unlikeliness of this situation – this conversation hadn't been written in any prophecies. No seer could ever have predicted that this was where Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter would end up – entwined together on a bed in South America talking about all the things that had ever ruined them and made them into the traumatised little shits that they'd grown into.

"Shh, you don't need to go on, it's fine," Harry said immediately, feeling how worked up Draco was getting, sitting up on his knees, watching helplessly as Draco shook his head desperately, clinging to the fabric on the arms of Harry's cotton pullover, their foreheads sealed together, laboured breaths mingling as he struggled to carry on despite his determination to tell the whole story.

"And that's when I realised; that's the image from my dreams. When I heard her breathing stop, I sort of w-w-woke u-up from this b-blackout. And... h-her blood was j-just – jesus fucking christ, it was everywhere," he was speaking in a low, barely there voice now, panting slightly "after the war, the first thing my Mother did was body bind me and put me in the Muggle mental institution. I was her son, and she'd very nearly lost me. I don't blame her -and it made me better, so…" Draco trailed off and Harry closed his eyes for a moment before grabbing him and enveloping him in a hard, tight hug full of despondency as they clung to each other as though both their lives depended on it, as though they were trying to inhale each other, gripping helplessly as though it was the only thing grounding them to the earth.

"Potter," he choked, his face pressed tightly to Harry's collar bones as his entire body shook with an overabundance of emotion.

"Hmm?" Harry breathed, his hands bunching in Draco's t-shirt near his spine.

"I love you," he almost gasped, as though the sentence was bursting from his mouth, but scratching up his throat at the same time, struggling mercilessly to be heard "I love you so fucking much"

* * *

><p>Harry woke in the early hours of the morning, first sensing the empty space beside him where his arms had been previously, second feeling the familiar throb of a headache. It didn't necessarily feel like it was his own however, and he closed his eyes again, focusing on separating his feelings from Draco's. He mentally prodded around for the window that acted as Malfoy and then the door in his mind through to Draco's. He managed to establish, even with sleep still numbing his senses, that it was Draco's tight intensity of thought flow that was giving them both the migraine. Then, it got suddenly worse, like an electric shock had shot through his body, originating in his brain like lightening. He growled, sitting up and rubbing his head, pushing his messy hair from his face.<p>

"Dammit Draco," he hissed, clearing his throat and trying to get his breathing back to normal, squinting against the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window.

'_Serves you right Potter, go back to sleep_' a voice said in his mind and Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and collapsing back into his pillows.

"Harry," Hermione's voice sounded through the darkness and he could just make out her curvy figure wrapped in a dressing gown in the doorway. He lifted his head slightly once

"Hermione, is everything okay?" he said quietly as she came and got under the covers, laying on her side so she was facing him, brown waves spread out across the pillow. He'd missed her so much. She really was his best friend – he was attuned to Hermione on a level dissimilar to everyone else, and after seven years of her being a permanent fixture in his life, it had been a shock to his system, not seeing her every day. It physically hurt him to know that she was in pain.

"Yeah," she smiled, leaning forward and pressing an affectionate peck between his brow in greeting, and settling further into the pillows "I just missed the company. I'm not used to sleeping alone lately," she said softly and he could tell that she'd been crying again.

"Right, well it looks like I've been bed abandoned too," Harry said with a small smile, turning over so they were looking directly at each other, their shapes just about illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

"Is he brooding again?" Hermione asked with a small chuckle and Harry shook his head, taking a finger over her knuckles resting flat out on the fabric in front of her by her face.

"Well, he's recovering. He told me some things last night, some things I don't think he ever wanted anyone to know," he sighed deeply.

"Really? Well that's progress. It's terrifying, how much more gentle he is now – I'm beginning to worry about him" she teased and Harry grinned, nodding a little.

"If those things were weird then you won't believe what he told me afterward," he said, grinning even wider when he played the final part of the conversation in his head.

"What?" Hermione asked, intrigued suddenly more than before.

"He told me that he loves me," Harry said, his voice cracking a little at the sweet taste of the words slipping from his lips. Hermione gasped, her hands going to her mouth, eyes widening in shock.

"Oh my god Harry, that's amazing! What did you say back?" she asked, gripping his hand tightly and squealing a little. He laughed at her, nodding once.

"Merlin Hermione, what do you think? I've been in love with him for a couple of months actually, I just didn't want to freak him out before we'd settled into a routine," he said thoughtfully and she sighed, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"So why's he off smoking like a chimney on my balcony then?"

"Oh no," Harry shook his head defiantly "we're not talking about me, we're going to talk about you now you're not catatonic," he said sternly, his face turning serious. She immediately tensed, her breath hitching in her throat "Hermione," Harry breathed softly, covering her hands with his between them "you need to explain. I'll always take your side when Ron is in the wrong, but I have to know what really happened before I start making snap judgements," he added, feeling Draco's thoughts pause a little and he knew that his boyfriend was trying to listen in on their conversation via the link.

"I've not been at home very much lately - like I said on the phone, he's been feeling neglected. You know how insecure he is. When he told me about the affair, he said that he'd been making up scenarios in his head, stupid notions of me with Tom, you know, like he used to with me and you," she paused for a moment, nuzzling her forehead against the silky skin of the back of his hand "I know I haven't been the best girlfriend, but I honestly love him and I would never have cheated on him. You want me to explain it Harry," she croaked "but I don't even understand it myself. I don't even think Ron understands it; I think he's just as lost as I am"

"Hermione, I know your job put a strain on the relationship," Harry accepted, freeing one of his hands to stroke down the side of her face "and I spoke to Tom on the phone last night. Wanting to spend the summer with new people and doing what you love, does _not_ make the breakdown of your relationship, your own fault!" he insisted "if the situation was reversed, you would never have betrayed him like that, never, no matter how lonely you'd gotten. This is not your fault, everything you've done and the way you've reacted to this is completely justified," Harry said forcefully, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him, pressing a rough kiss to her head "I know Ron is hurting and I know he's sorry and that he feels guilty as hell, but you didn't force him into sleeping with another woman. He made that choice on his own" he reinforced "I know you're hurting, but we're going to get you through this Hermione, I promise. And Meda's flying Teddy over tomorrow so you'll have a distraction. I swear Hermione, you don't have to figure this out on your own"

* * *

><p>The doorbell rang and as soon as the door opened, a loud squeal erupted through the flat and the sound of little feet pounding along the carpet echoed down the hallway.<p>

"Draccooo!" Teddy yelled, running straight at Malfoy who was looking pleasantly amused. He bent down and caught Teddy in his hands, flinging him over his shoulder and blowing raspberries on his legs. Teddy giggled musically and high pitched, and suddenly a large smile broke out on Hermione's face, the first one in forty eight hours. Immediately, it was as though the joy of the small chubby child currently wrestling Draco had laid down a blanket of happiness and warmth.

"Still squealing like a foghorn then, loudmouth," Draco remarked, giving the child mercy and settling for holding him against his torso.

"Is everything okay?" Meda asked with a laugh, hugging Hermione and pulling back, holding her face in her hands and prodding her cheeks "I hope you're eating okay missy, I know what you're like for overworking yourself," she fussed, kissing Harry on the cheek and nodding at Draco.

"And I trust that you are being decent to my Harry?" she said sternly and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well he's still alive if that's what you mean," he countered, earning himself a reproachful look and a brief hug from his aunt.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay tonight Meda? You're perfectly welcome to," Hermione said with a small smile, but Andromeda shook her head, her long greying curls moving on her shoulders a little.

"No, you've already got a full house and the whole point of me leaving Teddy here is so that I can get to this fundraiser tomorrow. Thank you, but I think I'll just apparate home, I still haven't finished my speech. Now, you know where everything is don't you Harry?" Meda said, taking Teddy's mini suitcase from around her shoulder and dropping it on the sofa.

"Yes Meda," Harry smiled "stop worrying! Go home and get some rest, tomorrow is going to be difficult and you need your sleep," Harry insisted, hugging her again and showing her back out.

* * *

><p>"Dwaco, I got dininosaur," Teddy babbled excitedly, his little chubby fingers clutching a small plastic velocoraptor, adjusting the arms and legs with extreme concentration.<p>

"Well then you know what dinosaurs do with little boys who don't behave then don't you?" Draco teased, blue eyes twinkling with a fondness Hermione had never thought possible for the young heir. It filled her with pride.

"Draco, hush," she scolded "I'm not sleeping as it is, I do not want to have to get up in the middle of the night because a certain insatiable grown man has told his boyfriend's godson that dinosaurs will get him if he doesn't behave," Hermione glared, taking the child from him and hugging Teddy tightly, playing eskimo kisses as she sat down on the sofa with him.

"Well that's inevitable because the little shit isn't sleeping with me and Potter," Malfoy said, frowning at the direction Harry had gone in.

"I'll be back in a second Granger," he said, taking his hands out of his pockets and walking down the hall, pulling the door open properly to find Harry stood on the doorstep trying to shut up a pleading Ronald Weasley.

"What are you doing here Weasletwat?" Malfoy snapped, forcing his hands to stay by his sides so that they wouldn't curl into fists and start pummelling the young man's face.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ron exclaimed angrily and Harry groaned, knowing that this encounter was not going to be easy.

"Granger's my friend and Potter's my boyfriend, what the fuck do you think I'm doing here?" Draco snapped, keeping his voice dangerously calm and sharp "I'm here to help clean up your mess"

"Bullshit," Ron growled "_you_ haven't been through what I have with them. You were killing innocent people whilst I was travelling across Europe with them trying to destroy the bastard psychopath that _you _were working for," Ron said loudly, red hair messy, matted and standing on end.

"Don't start"

"Well its true," Ron shouted, clearly drunk "he has no right to be here-"

Before Malfoy could grab Potter, the young saviour's fist collided with Ron's jaw and he stumbled back, tripping down the steps and landing on his buttocks on the concrete pavement.

"How dare you insult Draco," Harry yelled through gritted teeth "we've all done things that we regret, we all have our demons to bury. Let's not forget that you abandoned me and Hermione just because you were jealous and paranoid. Don't make that face at me, fuckface, let me finish, because that girl in that flat spent the last two days crying and sleeping and yelling because you ripped out her heart and stamped on it. You've been selfish. When you feel neglected, when you miss Hermione, you sit and talk to her about it, you force her to sit down and you have a conversation about your concerns, you don't flop your dick out on the first woman that looks at you! Did you even think about the woman you were dragging into this? Did you even tell this girl that you were in a relationship, that you were making her the 'other woman'?" Potter was animated with rage and anger and disappointment, seething with it as he dropped down a couple of the steps and looked down on his old friend "I don't care how you try to justify this," he croaked "it's never going to be okay, because like it or not, when you had sex with some random girl when you were drunk, _you_ were in the wrong and _you _cheated on your girlfriend. You're going to have to work your ass off sorting this out if you ever want her to forgive you Ron – look, come back in a couple of weeks when she doesn't want to stab you and grovel your ass off. It's out of my hands now. Go away," Harry finished, turning and pushing passed Draco, going back into the flat.

"You two are together now," Ron said, limping to his feet and brushing tears away from his cheeks, coughing as he cradled a sprained wrist.

"Stating the obvious as usual Weasley," Draco sighed in a smug, bored tone. Draco knew he was being childish but he didn't much care, Weasley had always irritated him, and alright, he got a special kind of satisfaction out of watching Potter sticking up for him.

* * *

><p>"Right mister, get your PJ's on; it's bedtime," Draco said, shifting the toddler off of his lap and standing him on the ground "hey, do you want to sleep with Auntie Hermione tonight? She's a bit lonely lately and I think she wants someone to cuddle her," Draco whispered indiscreetly loud in the child's ear and Hermione smiled.<p>

"Yayayay! I gawnaa cuddwe ant Mione to sleepies!" Teddy squealed, wobbling a little as he jumped in the air, waving his arms about, giggling even more when Draco grabbed him around the waist and nibbled his cheeks gently.

"Go on then Devil child, go to 'ant Mione'," Draco said, quickly placing a kiss to his forehead and handing him to Hermione again.

"Hey, you have to give him credit for trying, his speech is getting much better," she retorted and he rolled his eyes again, walking off in the other direction down the hallway to the spare room that he and Harry were sharing.

It was very, very rare that Draco showed proper, sentimental affection and he was happy that Ron had been put in his place, but when he saw Harry examining his reflection in the mirror with a look of shame, Draco couldn't help threading his arms around his bare chest, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of Harry's neck.

"He had it coming Potter," Malfoy sighed, looking at their faces staring back at them as his hand played with a small trail of black hair on Harry's abdomen.

"Why did the chorus of the cell block tango just pop into my head?" Harry huffed in a pathetic attempt to pretend he was okay and Draco tutted, shaking his head.

"Potter, I did my sharing and I humiliated myself last night; I think you can stretch to telling me why you look at yourself in the mirror like you're some kind of monstrous killing machine," Draco reasoned, watching his boyfriend's eyes as they involuntarily glanced down at the scars on Harry's wrists.

Suddenly, Draco had spun Harry around and pressed his back against the mirror, ignoring his hiss about the cold surface. His hand grabbed Harry's and lifted the wrist to his mouth, pressing a featherlight trail of kisses and pecks along the jagged scars covering the veins.

"Stop thinking about that Potter, they're nothing; we all have scars, we all despise them, but these are a part of you and you need to accept that-"

He was cut of by Harry's arms circling his neck and lips meeting his own. Hot, wet kisses, nips and sucks heated his body with every touch. Immediately clothes became a source of extreme irritation, especially when Harry's fingers were hooking on Draco's belt and yanking his pelvis forward.

Without realising, Malfoy had pinned Harry hard against the mirror, overcome with jolts of incredible pleasure shooting through his groin every time Potter brushed against him. Small whimpers and groans were escaping between them with hot tufts of uneven air and a need to be bare.

In a second, Draco's t-shirt had been ripped over his head and Harry was biting a path of fire across his skin, down his neck, sucking harder at the pulse point, causing Draco to subconsciously thrust his hips forward, drawing an extra loud growl from the both of them as the sounds mingled together.

Harry fumbled with Draco's belt, shaking hands desperate to get rid of the jeans and get into the underwear, all the while continuing to drag love bites along Draco's collar bone and down the muscles of his chest – Draco momentarily forgot his own name, his eyes rolling.

Oh yes, Potter was pissed off with the world, which mean he'd be uninhibited, which meant the silencing charms were going to be needed after all.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed, tying her long brown locks into a tight, intricate plait at the back of her head while her fringe was loosely pinned back to the side, a few curls escaping to frame her face.<p>

"And you know what to do if he tries coming round again, don't you?" Draco said firmly, juggling a wriggling, restless Teddy on his shoulder as Harry got together the toddler's bag and toys.

"Draco, shut up. I can look after myself and I am more than capable of dealing with the likes of Ron Weasley! Besides, Tom is coming over tonight to watch a movie with the rest of the band so stop worrying!" she scolded and he rolled his eyes, scoffing before giving up and grabbing both of Teddy's wrists in one hand, glaring at him.

"Listen to me, you remember what I told you about Harry and me being called back to England?" Draco said sternly, only the tiniest hint of anger added to his tone.

"Yes," Teddy whimpered a little, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

"And you remember how we're supposed to have you for the next week so we need to apparate you back to our flat because the plane would be too stressful?" Draco asked again, looking Teddy straight in the eyes, not wavering even when the child's hair turned a light, quiet tinge of red.

"Yes," he repeated, sniffing slightly and attempting to look away from Draco's scrutiny.

"Help us out little man, we're trying to keep you safe and happy here," Draco said, but now he was softer and no anger was left in his voice. Immediately Teddy's hair returned to its usual sandy blonde colour.

"Sowwy," he coughed a little and Draco nodded, allowing the child to bury its face in his neck whilst he took a wand out of his pocket and shrunk a couple of their bags.

"Granger, behave and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he winked, pressing a fast kiss to her forehead, brushing her cheek with his thumb momentarily before turning and walking down the hallway. Harry put the final pieces of luggage in his jean pockets and held his arms out to Hermione, wrapping her tightly into his warmth.

"Thank you so much Harry, I have no idea what I would have done these last couple of days without you. Draco's been amazing too, tell him that I don't hate him quite so much anymore," she breathed, smiling when Harry chuckled, pulling away and kissing her full on the lips, brushing a stray curl from her face.

"I'll call you when we get back, and as soon as we find out why they called us back so suddenly. Apparently, Narcissa is involved in something as well but I highly doubt it, she's pretty much unreachable these days," Harry sighed, smiling sadly at her for a second.

"Potter, Thomas Douchbag Kendle is about to take over Grangersitting and we need to go now!" Draco called down the hall just as Tom came bouncing into the room, a big box of pizza and munchies in his hand and a bottle of wine in the other, Hermione's guitar strapped to his back.

"Who the hell is that guy?" Tom asked, frowning as he looked at Hermione who hugged Harry one last time before releasing him.

"That would be my dicktwat of a boyfriend who doesn't know how to behave around people, let alone the basic concept of being nice," Harry said simply, shaking Tom's hand briefly.

"You're Harry?" Tom asked and he nodded, smiling one last time.

"You're definitely going to be okay-"

"Yes Harry! Now go away," Hermione shooed, grinning nonetheless.

"Alright, alright," he sighed again, sprinting in the direction of his boyfriend and his godson.

"I am not a douchebag," Tom said, pouting as Hermione began to uncork the wine.

"Yes you are, you're an adorable douchebag, now get some plates down; I'm bloody starving"

* * *

><p>"Sleeping?" Draco asked as Harry came back into their living room, nodding once as he sat down next to Draco, legs slightly open, back straight, hands fiddling in his lap.<p>

"He went down straight away - Draco, if something's gone wrong, I think we need to call Meda and get her to take him back," Harry said seriously, and Draco caught his hands before they started shaking.

"Potter, quit worrying; it's probably just a development with rounding those deatheaters up and they want you to sign some forms. But I think you're right about Teddy, it's not that I don't like having the little shit hobbling around everywhere, I just don't want him here if it is bad news, and we end up blowing a fuse," Draco replied, allowing Harry to lean his head on his shoulder "you know how bad we get when we're angry"

"We haven't talked about _us_ yet - I was just wondering if you were okay. You know, after telling me all that stuff-"

"I thought I told you I wasn't afraid of telling you anything anymore Potter. I'm not in the mood for the sentimental shit," Draco snapped, but there was no malice or hate in his voice and Harry simply nodded against him, stroking one of his knuckles with his thumb.

"I do think you should call Weasley though," Draco said carefully, scowling when Harry sat up too fast and a muscle in their necks pulled tight.

"What? Why?" Harry exclaimed in outrage, throwing his arms in the air slightly.

"But he's also your best friend of ten years, dumbass – and I know you'll end up resenting yourself even more if you cut him out of your life completely. Besides, you'll have to talk to him sooner or later, the memorial ceremony is coming up in a couple of weeks," Draco explained calmly and clearly, avoiding rising his boyfriend's temper, however attractive he was when he was angry.

"I hit him Malfoy, I threw him away from me and I hurt him, he isn't going to talk to me," Harry said, his voice strained and slightly cracked.

"Bullshit, he doesn't have a lot of people on his side at the moment, of course he's going to talk to you. He's actually probably quite desperate. I don't think Molly would be very understanding if he's told her the truth; George has probably given him a good pummelling as well" Draco reasoned, pressing his IPhone to Harry's hand and gesturing for him to use it.

"I'm going to have a shower and change out of these clothes, you better have called that asshole by the time I get back, or I'll call him myself and make the situation ten times worse," Malfoy said firmly, standing up and walking towards the stairs.

"I hate you!" Harry shouted after him, receiving a dry chuckle in reply.

"Bullshit, you love me," he called back smugly and Harry sighed, collapsing into a defeated position as he called the number, having a feeling that Malfoy was going to milk the whole 'love' thing to hell and back.

"Hello?" a tired voice came from the other end of the line and Harry had to take a couple of breaths in to steady himself.

"Okay, don't interrupt me, don't even say a word or I'll put the phone down and I'll never talk to you again. I have taken the majority of her side in this situation because you are in the wrong, no matter how you play it up or try to explain and make excuses. But this is about me and you, and I – I don't think I can lose anyone else that I love. Ron, you're my brother, my best friend. We've been through miles and tonnes of stinking shit together, I don't think that's ever going to disappear, I can't shake those memories, I'll never be able to forget everything we achieved as a group," Harry stopped for a moment, making sure he knew what he was going to say next "so I want you to understand; see things from my point of view. I get a phone call from you, telling me that you've cheated on my other best friend and it doesn't matter what she's done, or whether she was neglecting you or working for too many hours, you still betrayed her. You still had sex with someone else when you were still in a relationship with her. Of course I'm going to be angry, I love Hermione, she's my sister and you hurt her, anyone who makes her cry is going to have my resentment and anger, that's just the way human nature works," he drew in a shaky, deep breath, listening for a moment, to Ron's breathing on the other side of the line "but I know you find it hard to tell people about what you're feeling and I know how you react when you feel people pulling away from you. You don't hold onto them, you give up and hide from the elephant in the room, you try and make yourself forget. I can see it from your warped point of view Ron but it's not me you need to gain the trust of again, its Hermione. She won't take you back now, you know that; but if you want to salvage some of your friendship, you need to work at it, you need to prove that you aren't just going to get scared, give up and run away," Harry said, slipping into his old habit of giving Ron hard-faced, raw advice.

And if he was being perfectly honest, he missed him. It had been a long time since Harry had had a proper conversation with his redheaded friend and he supposed that he didn't want to cut him out completely.

There was a long pause where all Harry could hear was Ron's breathing on the other side of the line. Then he cleared his throat and swallowed tightly, sniffing once.

"I'm sorry," Ron said in a choked voice.

"I know," Harry replied, running his hand through his hair.

"And I'll apologise officially to her in couple of days as well – we need to have some kind of truce by next week, you know we won't be able to get through the memorial service without her," Ron said gruffly and Harry smiled sadly, repressing a small chuckle. Ron had said something very similar about Hermione when Harry had been planning to go off on his own a few years back just before the war had started up properly.

"Don't fool yourself into thinking she'll forgive you straight away though, remember how long it took her last time," Harry warned sternly, still keeping the disapproving tone in his voice.

"I know, I'm not expecting a miracle. So... you're with Malfoy now then," he said a little awkwardly and Harry rolled his eyes, sitting up properly and crossing his legs underneath him on the sofa.

"It's a very unconventional relationship, but we get by. We love each other," he explained shortly, smiling absently as he fiddled with the fabric of the cardigan he'd stolen from Malfoy.

"Wow," Ron said "just... wow. Who the fuck saw that one coming?" Ron said, obviously still shocked that he was even on speaking terms with his old childhood enemy.

"Well, he's a little less of a git than he was back then. Not by much though," Harry grinned to himself.

"I heard that Potter!" Malfoy yelled from upstairs and Harry chuckled.

"It's still weird though... so he's actually come out as gay now then?" Ron asked and Harry nodded to himself as if Ron could see him.

"Ron, its not that simple. My sexuality was a big thing for me, but Malfoy's had his figured out his whole life – he doesn't label himself, and he doesn't need to either. He's attracted to women, and he's attracted to men; but none of that matters, because he's in a relationship with me. We've made it official, and thanks to him the press know now as well," Harry tutted and he could practically see Ron frowning on the other side of the phone.

"How did they find out?" he asked and Harry breathed out a small, annoyed breath.

"The bastard grabbed my hand to pull us through a bunch of papz at the airport a couple of days ago, didn't he? I haven't seen the newspapers yet but I'm sure some of the stories and opinions are rather colourful," Harry remarked, hearing Ron's sound of agreement through the line.

"I'm coming back to England on Wednesday, I'll talk to you then but I have a few things I need to do right now," Ron said, and clearly the conversation was coming to an end. Harry sighed, nodding to himself.

"Okay, but don't think I'm letting you off, I'm still annoyed with you," he said.

"I know, bye Harry"

"Bye"

* * *

><p>"Mr Potter, is there any way we can get you to wait outside whilst we break this news?" Kingsley asked uneasily as he opened the door of his office to find Harry and Draco stood outside looking pissed off and nervous.<p>

"Not a chance," Harry said simply, pushing past the minister shamelessly and entering the room. He was immediately confronted by four men sat around Kinglsey's desk in chairs, the top four people in office.

On the outside of the semi-circle, was Bree Thomas, head of the Auror department, wrapped in tight robes, her hair in its usual neat blonde curls. She nodded at Harry respectfully, appearing composed and indifferent, but her hands shook almost violently in her lap as she observed the two men. Next to her was Dawlish who grinned at Harry and reached up to shake Draco's hand from his chair, hair greying slightly and worry lines creasing at the corners of his bright blue eyes.

Then there were two women twins Harry recognised vaguely. They were referred to as the 'Terminators' because they'd captured more rogue deatheaters together in a week, than the rest of the Auror department put together had caught in a month. They seemed friendly enough however and were both smiling kindly and... considerately?

"Alright, what the fuck is going on?" Draco demanded as he was guided to his seat that had been assigned next to Harry on the left side of the semi-circle. Kinglsey sat down slowly behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose and sitting forward as he forced himself not to start drumming his fingers on the wood or biting his nails.

"Right, I suppose you're both wondering why I called you back from America, I do apologise on that account; I know Hermione probably needs her two best friends right now, but something came up a couple of hours after you left three days ago and it's just been chaos-"

"You called us back from America to help you deal with chaos?" Harry exclaimed, raising his eyebrows in a not at all happy manner. Kinglsey shook his head.

"No, of course not, I have other staff for that. But the issue that arose was extremely personal to you and I wished for you to come home at once. It's very warped, we don't even really understand how it happened ourselves-"

"Minister, without seeming rude, could you get the fuck on with it?" Malfoy snapped, glaring at him as he shifted in his chair.

"Very well. Bring him in," Kingsley called and the door behind him clicked open as three body guards stepped out into the office covering someone.

"Sir, are we sure-"

"Yes I'm sure, we can't keep it from them, Merlin you're stupid sometimes. Move," Kingsley ordered and immediately the guards stepped aside. What Harry's eyes saw stopped every organ in his body for a second, he was sure of it. And when everything stuttered back to life again, it felt wrong, like his eyes were tricking him and his body was working slowly, suspiciously, unsure as to whether it's host was hallucinating or not.

But it looked so real.

The long, white blonde hair, the pointed, pale features, the cold, dark green eyes, the straight, large nose and chiselled jawline. But it just wasn't possible.

And yet, sure as day, Lucius Malfoy stood right in front of them, hard faced and undernourished as he had been three years previous.

"Well, don't you have a hug for your Father Draco?"


	11. Chapter 11

He could feel Draco's emotions whirling up a storm inside them, like a building, dangerously controlled tsunami that was only being held back by mental walls. Walls could be broken down.

This had come at the worst possible time. The week had been terribly emotionally trying on the two young men stood gaping at what should be a ghost. They were both exhausted and still trying to process their newly confessed love for each other, along with the information on his past that Draco had divulged so honestly and openly – and this was like throwing a bottle of vodka on a bonfire.

"Is this some kind of practical joke?" Draco's voice came quiet and gravelly from beside him and it broke a ginormous state of silence that hung over the room, sweeping it away in a millisecond as everything seemed to become animated again.

"No, I'm afraid it isn't Draco," Kingsley spoke seriously, worry and a tiny hint of fear in his strong voice.

"What the fuck is it then?" Draco yelled suddenly, the room flinching at the noise hitting their eardrums like splintering shards of sharp ice.

"What does it look like?" the cause of the commotion finally spoke and foreboding replaced fear, like everyone knew that voice was only going to make everything ten times worse "has your sight or hearing been affected in the past two years?"

"Shut up you absolute fucktard, you're supposed to be fucking dead!" Draco yelled again, ignoring Harry's attempt to calm him down "Potter, my dead father is stood in front of me, I will not calm down dammit!" he snapped viciously and Harry sighed, retracting his hand and rolling his eyes to the ceiling to try and calm himself; this was all very confusing and whatever was upsetting Draco, was upsetting him.

"Draco, we found your father lying in a ditch when we were on our way back from Scotland," Kingsley began and Draco's eyes were hard and brimming with a slow-burning loathing. It had been a very, very, very long time since Harry had seen that look from his boyfriend.

"Well you should have fucking left him there!" he screamed, his breathing laboured, eyes wide, neck moving with the force and volume of his words "how the hell is he even alive? You were dead, I buried you!" he pointed at his father desperately "I was the only one at your funeral and I spat on your grave, how are you stood here like this?" Draco demanded angrily, standing up. The guards shifted as if to grab him, but Kingsley shook his head at them.

"We still don't know, he won't tell us anything. We were hoping to have Harry question him," Kingsley said hesitantly and Draco's eyebrows hit the top of his head.

"Are you actually serious right now?" Draco turned on the minister "you want me to wait outside the room whilst my _boyfriend _questions my supposed-to-be-dead _father_ who hates him?" he yelled again and for the first time, Lucius's features contorted from completely blank and bored, to raging fury.

"_What did you just say_?" he spat, struggling against the bonds of his magical handcuffs behind his back, glaring even more when the guards grabbed his arms.

"I can't! I can't fucking deal with this, not again," Draco breathed, shaking his head, jumping out of his chair and storming from the room. But Harry wasn't able to follow quickly enough, and within a few minutes of trying to catch up with Draco, he'd blacked out, consumed by a misty darkness.

* * *

><p>Draco sat, back hunched over, head bowed, hair falling forward and covering his face, tears dripping occasionally from his closed eyelids. His breathing was deep and rattily, like spindly fingers had caged around his lungs, restricting the amount of air that was going in and out. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sat there, but despite the sore scratching in his eyelids and the blurriness of his vision, he refused to let the slow beeping of the heart monitor spell lull him to sleep.<p>

Not until Potter was awake.

The guilt was unbearable, yet he felt it still, in stabbing, resentful shots to his gut, settling in his bones, playing torturously with his head. Although he knew that Potter was perfectly fine, and was simply sleeping off the stretch of the link, Draco could not forgive himself for being so stupid.

Draco had blacked out too of course; halfway down the elevator to the second floor where a ministry official had managed to get him to St Mungos. They'd immediately put him in the same room with Harry, at which point they'd both briefly woken up. Potter, however, had been put back under. They'd told Draco that it was just precautionary though and now all he could do was wait. He didn't like waiting, he never had done, it made him snappy and anxious and, with his temperament, dangerous.

Harry looked so peaceful; the slow, tedious rise and fall of his chest, the black hair that was caught slightly on his eyelashes in a ridiculously innocent fashion. It was a foreign emotion, to feel completely broken just because he'd hurt Harry Potter; his old self would be shaking his hand right now.

"We've got him locked in one of our high security rooms for the minute, but we can't leave him there forever without a trial Malfoy-"

"_Don't_," he snarled "don't call me by that name right now, it's – it's wrong," Draco snapped, not looking up at the Minister.

"My apologies Draco, I understand how difficult this is for you-"

"No you fucking don't!" he yelled suddenly, tears streaming down his face, eyes wide, skin paler than ever "you don't know how this feels, no one does!" he shouted again, smashing his foot into the side of Harry's bed "its head ruining! I was finally feel free, I finally push past all the shit and the heartbreak and the fear and the pain, and for the first tie in my life, I was happy. And then you pull me into work, put me in that room with _him_, and in a second, it's like it was just ripped away from me, right out of my fucking chest. I don't have a clue what to do, or how to make it right, or how I'm supposed to be reacting to all of this. All I know is that right now, I need to talk to my boyfriend, I just need to know he's okay. So why don't you take your white jacket bastards and your stupid policies and get the fuck out of the hospital; Harry will speak to you when he's ready," he said, trying more than ever to keep what little patience he still possessed.

"Very well, I can see you need time. I shall be in touch tomorrow," Kingsley said awkwardly, turning and leaving the room.

"Yeah, you can open your eyes as well, dick," Draco snapped, looking back down at Harry and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I want to stay asleep," Harry's voice came sleep drunk and groggy, but his eyes didn't open.

"Tough shit," Draco sighed, throwing himself back down on the chair and tipping his head back, rubbing his face "I'm sorry Potter," he croaked "I'm stupid and reckless and I don't deserve you," he breathed, swallowing the lump gathering in his throat again.

"Bullshit, I'd have done exactly the same thing and you know it," Harry said simply, putting his arms at his sides and pushing himself up into a sitting position, the covers falling away from his bare chest as he opened his eyes properly. It was a simple notion, but Draco would never be able to find words to explain what a relief it was to see those annoyingly gorgeous emerald eyes staring back at him.

"Potter that's not reassuring me about the health of our relationship. If we're going to keep almost killing each other every time something like this happens, what does that tell you about the state of our situation?"

"Look," Harry said firmly, taking one of Draco's hands between his own, holding on tightly when Draco tried to squirm out of his grasp "sometimes, I forget how strong the link is as well. I forget that it's unstable and dangerous and unorthodox. Sometimes, it all just feels so much like a normal relationship; I forget I can't just storm off and leave you hissing at the walls"

"Still doesn't change the fact that I don't deserve you," Draco retorted, lifting his head again, having to put in a little effort as it was feeling a little heavy on his shoulders, as was everything else.

"You love me, that's enough," Harry replied sternly, reaching out a hand and holding Draco's, squeezing it hard "please stop trying to make out like we're fire and ice and sunshine and thunder or whatever bullshit cliché the media try to put on us. We aren't elemental Draco, we're two severely fucked up individuals, not a whirlwind, forbidden romance of purity against monstrosity. I'm an asshole, you're an asshole. But we both have good hearts and we're both able to feel compassion and love. Just because you do stupid things sometimes, doesn't mean you're a bad person. It doesn't mean that I'm any better than you either"

"But this isn't right!" Draco exploded, throwing his hands up in exasperation "I don't understand how you don't hate me at the moment. My father has been back in my life for less than seven hours and you're _already_ in a hospital bed," he said, frustrated.

"Oh shut up," Harry snapped, looking at him as though he was some sort of moron "it's like you _want _me to hate you. Besides, this isn't your fault, it's your father's and I refuse to let you start blaming yourself for everything bad that's ever happened to me," Harry said, suddenly yanking Draco's entire arm forwards and capturing his lips roughly, almost desperately, the type of kiss that would leave one desperately trying to remember their name, wiping out all coherent thought. It was the kiss that he needed right now.

And Draco would never be able to describe the exact moment when he'd realised the hold Potter had over him, or when he'd summarised that it was pointless to resist the man; he just knew that he wouldn't survive losing him, no matter what happened, Draco Malfoy would love Harry Potter. And he hated it as much as he couldn't live without it.

"I hate it when you do that," Draco huffed quietly when they broke apart and Harry smiled against his lips.

"So we'll get through this unbelievably fucked up situation like everything we've dealt with in the last three years; together," he whispered, kissing him again with even more determination, if it were possible.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Mr Potter, glad to see you've recovered. Although you do seem prone to fainting, you should probably get that checked out," a mocking voice taunted him the moment he stepped into the room, glancing one last time at an extremely tense Draco stood outside, before he shut the door behind him and locked it.<p>

It had taken five long hours of extremely colourful shouting matches and fights to get Draco to agree to let Harry talk to Lucius alone; they hadn't blown up at each other like that in a long time. Harry would have said that their relationship had hit rocks, if it weren't for the all night make up session they'd had afterward. And when they'd woken in the morning, Draco had mumbled about 'an hour to get answers out of Lucius' at which point Draco had promised that he would be bursting into the room to stop the questioning.

Once he'd surrendered, he'd been a typical Malfoy, smoking and sulking on the balcony of their flat for three hours, but it was okay; now and again Harry knew to let Draco sulk and gather his thoughts. It was what assured him that they were strong as ever... if slightly shaken by the events of the past week.

"And you should probably be tortured even further into insanity and then be left alive forever hanging from metal hooks in the ceiling in Azkaban; but we don't all get what we want these days, do we Mr Malfoy?" Harry said, regarding the man in the same way he had always done, with malice and complete disrespect. After all, why on earth should he go easy on the man who had made his boyfriend's life hell for seventeen years?

"No, we don't. If I had my way, a disgusting, homosexual, half-blood little boy would not have gotten anywhere near my master to kill him," Lucius replied, all hints of a pretence lost from his voice.

"You do know your son is in love with me? Is he disgusting too?" Harry spoke, beginning to circle the older man who was tied to a chair with his hands behind his back in a full body bind curse.

"My son is not in love with you, he is just stupid," Lucius snapped, clearly irritated by the fact that his great warrior boy was not the puppet he'd once called a son anymore.

"Oh Draco is very in love with me; trust me, I've made sure. Over, and over and over again," Harry spoke, his words like knives twisting in Lucius' gut, unable to help himself winding up the man; he was just so... wrong.

"I see a lot has changed since I've been... otherwise engaged," Lucius said through gritted teeth and Harry stopped pacing right in front of him, crouching down.

"Tell me how you're alive," Harry said, looking Lucius straight in the cold, green eyes.

"I believe the answer to that ridiculously put question is, no comment," he replied, spitting in Harry's face. Harry refused to flinch however, and simply took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his face and drawing back up to full height, starting to pace again.

"People think I'm the lesser person in the relationship, you know, like Draco's the manly one? But they're stupid," Harry said roughly and before Lucius had a chance to reply, Harry's fist had collided hard with his jaw, a loud crack echoing around the room as the chair wobbled on its legs. Lucius turned his head sideways and spat blood out on the floor along with a couple of teeth "because there's a reason why they have me question the worst criminals," Harry whispered almost feral, pulling his fist back again and laying it into the left side of Lucius's ribcage, drawing a sound from the man somewhere between a cough of breath and a yelp of pain.

"It's bastards like you that ruined me, you know?" Harry said "you ruined my life"

"You shouldn't have been on the side of the angels then should you Potter?" Lucius hissed, swallowing the excess blood in his mouth and heaving through the snapped ribs stabbing at his lungs. Then, Harry crouched again, putting one hand on the back of the chair either side of Lucius's head, leaning in close so his breath was deliberately fanning over the pale, ragged face.

"I might be on the side of the angels Mr Malfoy," Harry breathed, eyes narrowed as he watched the twitching of the muscles at the corner of the older man's cruel eyes "but don't think for a second that I am one of them," Harry finished in a sinister voice, standing up and putting one foot out, kicking the chair back forcefully so Lucius smacked his head full pelt on the concrete floor.

Harry walked around him, putting a foot on the ribs that were broken and pushing the tiniest bit of pressure on them.

"How are you alive?" he repeated simply, pushing down harder with his foot when Lucius simply shook his head.

"Does it matter? You're going to kill me anyway," Lucius snared, the corner of his mouth curling in a sadistic smirk that was the true Malfoy legend, completely incongruous to the the sexy, good natured smirks that Draco produced on a daily basis.

"Did I not tell you that I think you should be left alive to rot? Once I've got the answers from you, which _is_ going to happen, I'm leaving Draco in this room with you and he can do whatever the fuck he wants... and you don't think he's capable? I've seen the ins and outs of your son's mind Lucius Malfoy, he's told me about what he had to do to become a deatheater and I don't believe for a second that he's going to welcome you into open arms," Harry said, lifting his foot ever so slightly and smashing the heel into the side of the man's face, stepping back a second to grab the control from his subconscious.

More than anything Harry wanted to rip the heart out of Lucius Malfoy for what he'd done to Draco in the past and how he'd brought him up; but Harry was not going to have his boyfriend's father's death on his conscience. Besides, it would tear their relationship apart completely.

Lucius yelled in pain again, struggling with the bonds still tying him to the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"But I'm not going to torture you Malfoy, I'm not that person; I'm not a deatheater," Harry grabbed a long strand of white blonde hair, yanking Lucius upright, ignoring the swear words pouring from the man's mouth as he held the chair still, looking him right in the eyes again "I'll be back tomorrow Mr Malfoy. I suggest you have some answers ready for me... that is of course, unless you want a shattered eye socket to match the other one," Harry swallowed tightly, getting a little closer one more time.

"Narcissa sends her utmost words of hatred by the way; if I remember correctly, she hugged me, threw her last bottle of wine down the sink, and told me to tell you that she hopes you rot in hell," Harry said, feeling a foreign type of triumph as he watched despair seep into Malfoy's vision and tears immediately began to fall "good day Mr Malfoy," Harry said simply, turning away and leaving the room behind him.

* * *

><p>He didn't even flinch when the gate to the cell opened. It was only when the sweet smell of lotus flower slid through his nasal passages that his head snapped up, his eyes widening.<p>

"Cissa-"

"Shut up!" she snapped sharply, glaring at him with nothing but hate in her eyes.

"But-"

"Not a word Lucius," she hissed "I am sober today and I refuse to allow you into my head," she said forcefully, walking over to the other side of the cell and sliding down the wall with her back, sitting on the cold floor opposite him.

"Sober?" he inquired softly in a voice he reserved only for her and she nodded once, curtly.

"I've had a slight… problem with it lately; you ruined almost everything in my life Lucius and you left me alive and alone to deal with the consequences"

She looked neat and aristocratic as ever, despite the fact that she was stood in a prison full of maniacs. Her white blonde hair was tied back partially, the bottom half curling softly over her shoulders and catching on the fabric of the dark purple robes she was wearing. Narcissa Malfoy was aging rather brilliantly actually, despite the small bags under her beautiful eyes that the alcohol had inaugurated. Wrinkles were present at the corners of her eyes and the lines on her forehead were slightly more defined, but other than that she was as flawless as a Black daughter should be.

"It seems a lot else has happened since I left as well-"

"Oh don't you dare come in with the prejudices Lucius, don't tell me you want to start it all up again; remember what it did to you? To us, to Draco, to our _family_?" she sneered.

"Evidently it did more damage to our son than I realised; he seems to think he is in love with Harry Potter. I wonder Cissy, how could you let that happen?" Lucius said, betrayal in his tone "how could you allow him to be guided astray so revoltingly? You know it is against nature, don't you? Man shall not lay with man, it is an abomination"

She shot him a look that would've had a thousand deatheaters running for the hills.

"Don't feed me that bullshit Lucius, its built off of centuries of muggle misinterpretation and you are a disgrace to the name of religion and sacred belief. Draco is _happy_. For the first time in his life, his smiles are _real_, his laughs are _genuine_ and he is as he always should have been. I have no intention whatsoever of spoiling that for him-"

"Cissy, he thinks he's homosexual! Potter's brainwashed him!" Lucius yelled and she laughed, high and bitter; it was alarmingly like her dead sister's actually and she stopped the moment it hit her eardrums.

"He doesn't 'think' he's gay you moronic harpie!" she barked "he simply fell in love with someone – gender is not important to him. And I have no problem with it. Besides, your views have no place in this society anymore," she rolled the syllables off of her tongue as if possessed by their house totem "you should have _stayed _dead," she leered coldly, standing and siphoning off dirt that had clung to her cloak.

"But I love you-"

"Oh shut up old man," she snarled "you don't love anything anymore. You don't even love yourself!" she glared, standing up and moving to crouch in front of him, speaking quietly but clearly, her breath fanning over his battered face "hear this Lucius, if by some miracle you get out of this place and you start the old group up again – which I know you're planning to do – I will have no part in it. In fact, I shall directly and actively oppose it. And if you ever lay a finger on my son or attempt to ruin him again, I will kill you myself. Do not underestimate me Lucius Malfoy because I was there too. I went through this war twice in my life and I am capable of things that most have never even dreamed of," she was smirking slightly now, her beautiful eyes narrowed and lit up with satisfaction, as though she had been waiting to say these words her whole life "do yourself a favour Lucius and just Avada yourself; or better yet, jump into a pit of fire, it would be marginally more entertaining," she finished by slipping her high heel from her foot delicately and slamming into the side of her husband's skull, glancing once at him as he curled up in the corner, clutching at his scalp in pain.

She left, the gate clanging behind her as the guard locked the cell once more, and for the first time in her life, she had no intention of ever looking back.

* * *

><p>"Are you okay mother? You've been rather annoyingly quiet this afternoon," Draco inquired, handing her a cup of tea and sitting down beside her.<p>

"I went to Azkaban yesterday," she said slowly and Harry sat up in his armchair, suddenly much more interested.

"What? Why? Mother, that was incredibly stupid-"

"Draco, hush," she rolled her eyes "I am a grown woman, I can handle the likes of Lucius Malfoy," she waved her son down as he looked outraged, but shut up nonetheless "I lost my temper with him and ended up smashing the side of his skull in with one of my rather expensive Lou Vuitton's; I apologise Harry, he may be a little disorientated the next time you question him," she explained, barely managing to keep a straight face. Harry on the other hand, didn't bother to hide his amusement and chuckled at her in surprise, shaking his head and leaning across the armchair to kiss Narcissa on the cheek.

"Potter, don't condone it!" Draco blasted "Mother, I told you I didn't want you involved in this!" Draco said angrily and she glared at her son, watching as he immediately sat back.

"You look me in the eye and tell me that you don't want to torture that man into insanity," Narcissa said simply, watching him expectantly. Draco's vision flickered away from her, settling on the flames of the roaring fireplace.

"Exactly. But you're not going to, because you are not that person anymore, and neither am I. Besides, I am sure Harry has those injuries handled, do you not?" she asked, looking at her son's boyfriend with approval and he nodded once, not particularly proud of the fact that he'd lost his temper with Lucius, but satisfied that he'd caused the man pain at the least.

"Five broken ribs, shattered eye socket, cracked skull and a broken jaw," Harry informed and she arched one delicately shaped blonde eyebrow, a muscle in the corner of her mouth twitching "I was feeling a tad irritable"

"Good, because he deserves it. However, there was something I wanted to tell you, something far more notable than the chaos your father is causing," she informed, gaining Draco's further interest having successfully momentarily distracted him "I hope you don't mind Draco, but I went down to registration today and changed our last names back to Black" she said to Draco, looking a little sheepish as she judged for a reaction.

"Really? You're legally allowed to do that?" Draco asked curiously with no real concerns. She shrugged.

"Technically I can do anything to your file if I can get access to it," she said, smirking at Harry who was tactfully trying to hide his further and complete approval.

"So, as of today my name is Draco Black?" he asked and she nodded, making a noise of exasperation when he drew her tightly into his arms and hugged her, pressing a rough kiss to her cheek in the exact spot Harry had previously.

"Thank you," he said solidly, smiling at Harry over his mother's shoulder "was this you? Did you help her out with this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry pointedly looked at the ceiling, feigning innocence "it would be illegal for me to use my clearance in order to help change legal documents without clearing it with the board of international census control," he denied in a ridiculously obvious voice. Draco smirked, hugging his mother tighter.

"It's not really a hardship, but I thought you'd appreciate it. You know _he_ isn't going to be easy though. He won't listen to my threats; I know that man and he's hell-bent on getting revenge on whatever he can. He needs a distraction, all the time; even more now he's got all those painful memories," she sighed when Draco released her, having to direct the conversation back to the pressing matter of Lucius Malfoy "Harry, your first step should be to drag up all the old deatheater files, keep tabs on them, get tracking them all. If Lucius is back and wanting domination again, people will be talking, assembling again," Narcissa said seriously, and he guessed it wasn't the first time she'd advised an Auror on how to catch a deatheater.

"But he's locked in a high security vault in Azkaban," Harry frowned "his trial's in three weeks, he's going to be sentenced to death," he said, wondering why she was talking about her estranged husband as if he was already out of prison.

"Oh Harry darling," she sighed "you are an excellent Auror but Lucius is far more intelligent than you give him credit for. I suppose now he has basically seen it all, there will be nothing he's afraid of; he's going to attempt to escape and trust me when I say, if Lucius wants something to happen, it more than likely will," she continued, taking a long swig of her tea.

"But Azkaban is completely secure, there's no way for him to escape-"

"Then he will create one Harry," she cut him off "mark my words if you want to stop him, you have to beat him at his own game, not play your own. Follow his lead, hope you eventually end up in the same place that he does, and then kill him. Or of course, you could just kill him now. But that won't stop the group he's just started up again. He'll have specific targets lined up, certain people on a list that he wants assassinated, and you need to try and guess them. Before you do anything, you need to bring Granger back from America immediately," Narcissa instructed again. Harry huffed, looking tired and bummed out, really rather fed up of dealing with all this ridiculousness. He'd thought that after the war he might finally be able to catch a break. Apparently, the universe had other ideas. Eventually, after finishing his cup of tea, Harry went to the drawing room to make the call and ask Hermione to apparate back to England at her first advantage.

"So," she said, turning to her son and watching as his expression hardened and a shiver ran down his spine "how are you coping?"

"This isn't supposed to be happening right now," Draco breathed, moving back against the sofa exhaustedly, staring at the fireplace again "we're supposed to be getting on with our lives, not dealing with history repeating itself," he said stressfully, hunching his back and holding his head in his hands. She sighed, putting an arm around her son and pulling him into her, stroking his hair and pressing a rough kiss to the top of his head, her eyes fixed fiercely on the fire flaming in the mantelpiece.

"I swear to you now Draco," she spoke determinedly "we're going to stop him, I promise," she repeated in a lower voice "Lucius Malfoy is going to pay"

* * *

><p>Harry sighed when he woke up, wanting nothing more than to sink back deeper into his pillow and let his dreams consume him in a world of blissful unconsciousness.<p>

The 2nd of May was always going to be a difficult day and it wasn't ever going to stop being painful, Harry knew this the moment Voldemort had dropped to the ground; but he never thought that he'd be in this situation. He closed his eyes again, loosely acknowledging the sound of Draco showering in the en-suit. Other than rushing water and the steam coming from under the closed door, complete silence filled the house.

Harry had a feeling that _most_ of the day would be filled with dragging silences and tense nods of respect if he was being honest. He sighed again as his phone rang on the bedside table, shattering the illusion of tranquillity that had seeped its way into his subconscious and he rolled over, pressing the call button to answer.

"Harry, is there a specific time you want me to come over?" Hermione asked immediately from the other side of the line, and before she'd even gotten through the sentence, he could tell she'd already been crying.

"I think people start getting there about ten to eleven, so just be here for about quarter past ten," he said, squinting at the dim stream of light casting itself through the gap in the closed curtains; but he could hear the hammering of the spring rain against the glass outside, wearing itself out before the summer came and heat glazed the country in golden sunlight.

"Alright then," she sighed "what time is Ron getting there?" she asked, her voice quietening ever so slightly, as though she was preventing her heart from hearing the name.

"We're meeting him at the gates at eleven," he said, coughing the grogginess from his voice and realising that even he sounded dull and gloomy without even trying.

"Okay... you're not freaking out or anything are you?" she asked shakily and he swallowed tightly, shaking his head like he was reassuring himself.

"No, I'm doing-" there was a small pause where he drew in a shaky breath "I actually think I'm alright for the moment," he said, trying to convince himself not to drown in the pain that the day was to bring.

"And Draco?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know, I just woke up, he's in the shower," he replied and he could practically see her eyes roll from down the phone.

"Harry, I know perfectly well that you're tuned in on Malfoy frequency; seriously, is he okay?" she asked more firmly.

"As far as I can tell, he's not having a mental breakdown... but there's still time and his dead father is suddenly still alive," he said, feeling the muscles in his jaw clenching involuntarily.

'_Potter, get off the phone; it's only eight in the morning_' his favourite voice sounded in his head and he read the hidden request behind it. A demand for him to put the phone down and shut up, normally meant 'I need you to come and hold me but I'm too much of a stoic bastard to admit it'. So Harry smiled sadly and smally, making an excuse to Hermione and getting out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

Draco was going to be one of the main things getting him through the day, and he wanted to absorb all the warmth and intimacy he could before the reality of the memorial service overtook his rationality.

* * *

><p>A cold wind swept over Hogwarts grounds, whistling the trees as though a very weak, dying banshee was flitting through them. England was having typical May weather which meant that the entire stretch of sky across the country was dark and unstable looking, the rain holding off for the moment, although present in patches throughout the day, effervescent in and amongst the clouds as it did little to improve the melancholy rushing over the crowd.<p>

Strange really, how thousands of people could be stood around one space, and complete silence could be among them. The occasional sniffle could be heard and everywhere tears were dripping down faces; but no one sobbed. No one made a sound.

To anyone who was to walk in on the scene and did not know why there were so many gathered around a slightly smaller patch of gravestones; it would have been very perplexing. But even if someone were to come across it, even they would feel the despair, even if it was just a snippet of the immense loss present in this gathering of such a mixed race.

Harry's teeth were clamped shut, his entire body shaking under the black suit he was wearing, one hand gripping Draco's hard enough to stop the blood flow, the other threaded tightly with Hermione's on the other side of him. Ron was on Hermione's left, and even their hands were joined and it was as though, just for today, things had been forgotten as she leaned her head sideways into the crook of her ex-boyfriend's neck and watched unblinking with everyone else as the silent firework display came to an end.

"Thank you," Harry breathed suddenly and Draco looked sideways, confused.

"What?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Thank you. I know you won't believe me but... you've saved me. You don't owe me a life debt; you saved me the moment you pulled me out the way of that cauldron explosion and you've been saving me every day since. So thank you," Harry said, his voice off, distant; but his emerald green eyes were fixed firmly on Draco's ice blue ones and he meant every word.

Then, without a second thought, without caring about the fact that there were at least a thousand people around them, Draco grabbed the back of Harry's head and kissed him.

It wasn't a foreign feeling, but it was the first time that the love Draco had claimed a couple of weeks back had shown in the kiss. It was searing, passionate and full of emotion; the pressure of those gorgeous pale lips against Harry's, the gentle brush of a tongue slipping into his mouth, the fingers bunching in his hair at the back of his head. It was absolutely perfect and thankfully only a few people around them had noticed the encounter.

When the kiss broke, they didn't come apart, Draco simply pulled Harry straight into a bone crushing hug, his arms around his neck, face buried in the fabric of the blazer in Harry's shoulder. A single tear dropped from Draco's eye that only Hermione, who was the closest, could see.

"I really fucking love you, you silly bastard," Draco said quietly, his voice muffled by the blazer, but Harry laughed, hugging him tighter, one arm completely around his waist, the other clutching the blonde hair at the back of Draco's neck.

"I love you too," Harry whispered.

* * *

><p>"Thank you, don't let anyone near this block until I've finished," Draco Black's gravelly, dangerously calm voice echoed along the grubby bricked corridor, the slightly menacing sound of his footsteps bouncing off the walls as he walked to the cell that contained the person he hated most in the world.<p>

The young man clicked his fingers and the gate opened, swinging forward slowly and closing behind him as he stepped inside. There was a single barred window letting little moonlight in up high by the ceiling, but years of being in darkness had made Draco's eyes accustomed to dim settings and immediately he could see very clearly a body curled up in the corner of the room.

A long, waist length mane of dirty, white blonde hair reflected the little light in the circled room, silver tones in the strands sparkling disgustingly.

"Look at you, you can't even lie down anymore; I'm glad to see they're keeping up our bargain," Draco's voice cut through the silence, cruel and defined as his father turned a weak head towards him.

"What?" the man hissed through the darkness and Draco rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, paying no heed to the crippling cold of the night and the awful prison. Slowly, with a stance resembling that of a tiger, Draco paced around in a semi-circle, presumably thinking more than really deciding what his next move would be.

Then he walked towards Lucius and crouched athletically, crystal blue eyes narrowing as he took in the battered face of his father.

"I made a deal with the guards," he said "they come in every couple of days and give you a good beating, no healing you until the end of the week. Now you get to feel what it's like to be pummelled and crushed, and healed only to have it all happen again. Head ruining isn't it?" Draco said, pointing a finger at his own temple and twisting it "having someone chip away at your strength until the healing spells don't work anymore, until you're not even sure what's real and what's a hallucination?" he moved closer still, looking his father in the eyes "that's what we put _them_ through," he breathed "that's what we did to them, _father_," he spat the last word with complete revulsion, watching his dad wince at the malice.

"They deserved it," Lucius yelled back, crazed and hateful. Draco raised his eyebrows in a snarky way, tilting his head to the side as if he was examining a rather toxic pile of horse excretion.

"And do _you_ deserve it? Don't you think that after all the revolting things you've done, that _you_ deserve to suffer?" Draco taunted, a slow, a sadistic smirk creeping up one corner of his mouth "_I _have," he continued "I've suffered for all the evil things that _I_ did. So tell me father, what is it that makes you so special?"

"No!" Lucius growled "I was just doing what's right, what's natural! I- we were putting them in their place; the muggles and mudbloods, they're not-"

"They're not what?" Draco bellowed in his father's face "they're not normal? Not human? Not natural? Have you looked at _yourself_ lately, you fucking disgusting old man? Did you know that your precious master was a half-blood?" he spat "his father was a spoilt little brat and a muggle; so, answer me this father, if we were to completely wipe our race, the earth's population, of anything that isn't pureblood wizard, would we not have to kill our own master as well? Would you not be disgusted by him too?" Draco said viciously and Lucius shook his head rapidly.

"The Dark Lord was an extraordinary man-"

"He wasn't a man, he was a fucking twisted, pulverized monster; a half form. He split his own soul into seven pieces and floated around as vapour for eleven years! We were terrified of a thing that was nothing but air for half my life, do you even know how stupid that is? How weak that made us? _It tore us apart you mind fuck, it tore our family apart_!" Draco yelled, hid hand colliding with the side of his father's face backwards, the slap echoing heartstoppingly through the whole cell block "but then," he carried on, unable to stop it now it was flowing so freely from his pale lips "we never were a family were we? Not really, my Mother loved what you _used_ to be. In the end, she loved a ghost of a man warped with fear, rage and hate. You're everything I _was _and everything I _despise_ now and if you so much as attempt to ruin my life again, I will hunt you down and I swear I will not hesitate to kill you," Draco said through gritted teeth, still crouched, holding the ripped fabric of his father's collar.

"Oh you will, will you? Funny that, your mother said almost the same thing," Lucius coughed, twitching his cheek to try and banish the stinging of the skin.

"I am not my mother," Draco reminded him harshly "I know that woman like the back of my hand and she still feels something for you, no matter how much she denies it. I swear, I'm a better person than I used to be, but _she_ doesn't know what you let them do to me behind closed doors, she doesn't know the full extent of what you did to my head – there are things that I haven't even told Potter about, and if I told Shacklebolt about all the sick, paedophilic, perverted, inhuman shit that went on in the manor over the years, he wouldn't even let you on trial. Mark my words father, I haven't forgotten what you allowed to happen and trust me when I say I will put my hand in your chest cavity and rip out your heart if you so much as touch a hair on Potter's head, is that clear, you lunatic fuck up?" Draco spat in his father's face.

For a second, their eyes met in deadlock before Lucius let out a high pitched, unhinged cackle very similar to the one of Bella that used to travel through the hallways of the manor.

"Oh I heard you," the old man shot "doesn't mean I'm going to obey you. You kill me now Draco, you will only fuel their rage; they're good and ready to rip Potter to shreds. The Granger girl is quite popular on the claim list as well you know, should probably put more protection around her; that Darren guy isn't going to be a match for the deatheaters," Lucius said maliciously, coughing out a yelp of pain when Draco smacked his head back against the stained stone wall behind him.

"There's one thing that your 'deatheaters' haven't taken into account though" Draco said, barely a whisper in his father's ear.

"Oh and what's that?" Lucius managed to gulp through blood filling his throat.

"Me"

And then in a flash the gate was slammed shut and locked again, and Draco was gone, leaving his father chained in metal shackles bleeding against the old stone wall.

He truly had no idea what he'd just started.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry ducked behind the small, broken down shack and slowly drew his wand from inside his black denim jacket, pressing his back flat against the rotting wood. He fumbled a little with the gun in his right hand as he checked it was loaded, and tried to cock it back into place as quietly as he could manage. Athletically he drew back up into full height and whipped around to the right side of the small house, dragging the back of his jacket against the building as he moved fast and silently with all the stealth and agility of the Auror he was rumoured to be. He closed his eyes for a split second, drawing in a sharper breath and moving around to the front.

"Alohamora," he whispered, as the door clicked open. Harry took one last look around with clever eyes, checking accurately around for someone following him. He stepped inside, gun pointing slightly towards the floor, wand in his other hand poised upwards and ahead as he circled once in the centre of the room, eyes still pinned sharp on anything that could possibly start moving and attack him.

Even when he was half-sure that nothing was keeping him company, he kept his weapons raised, walking slowly, one foot in front of the other. He bent over slightly, his fingers brushing over surfaces of mouldy wood. The smell of damp was ripe and choking in the air and he had no doubt that something or someone had been here very recently.

He'd recently been given rank as a fully functional Auror. After working for months with a brand new and revised training program, Harry's senses had been taught to be completely alert and extra sensitive to different types of magic and forces in the areas around him. It gave him the upper hand on a lot of tester cases he'd been given and he was used very often on the more difficult and baffling situations.

He spotted a very tiny splash of something burgendy out of the corner of his eye clinging to a corner of a smashed up bookcase. He swiped his finger hard across it, tasting the substance on the tip of his tongue and spitting on the floor, his eyes narrowing somewhat suspiciously.

Blood.

Then, he heard the slightest, quietest shuffle from behind him and in a flash he'd spun, both weapons raised straight, high and steadily in front of him, adrenaline releasing from his brain and throbbing immediately through his veins as everything was brought ten times more into focus.

"Well hello there, I wasn't aware that I'd be having company quite so soon," a female voice hit him just as much as her striking appearance did and if anything, his grip on the firearm tightened. She was short and agile, the curves of her slim body highlighted by the corset she wore under a leather jacket and tight jeans, the black flat boots on her feet hugging her calves. Her skin was pale and slightly scarred, her hair a glossy chocolate brown and shoulder length; cut to frame her face, and to allow for quick, easy moving.

Her eyes were a cool, clear water blue and her face was ovalled, a perfected expression of intimidation carved into her features. Her lips were rather uniquely thin and heart shaped, curling into a small smirk that made her appear as though she knew the secrets of the universe. She was beautiful, but very fierce looking and it was rather obvious that getting her to co-operate would not be particularly easy.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice angry and low; he really didn't have any patience for stepping on eggshells or avoiding the point at the moment.

"Well, I'm the person who lives here," she remarked, not moving from her place in the crooked doorway.

"Bullshit, you're clean and well fed there's no way you live in this shit hole. If you're a witch trying to avoid being caught by magical authorities, you're not doing well on the whole 'not looking suspicious' scale," Harry said testily as she raised one delicately shaped eyebrow and smirked.

"Oh really? Suspicious? That's a new one. But I wonder, how is it that you automatically assumed I'm a witch and not a muggle?" she asked, her tantalising aura still intact, but Harry could see the slight surprise and anger that she'd been caught out deep in her eyes.

"I assumed, of course. But you just confirmed it for me," he said, allowing himself his own smirk as her expression faltered slightly and she so obviously cursed herself silently.

"So you're clever too? I'm guessing you're an auror then, especially if you're looking for deatheaters," she said, presumably trying to keep some of her pride and dignity.

"Oh don't be fucking stupid, you know exactly who I am," he snapped and she swallowed discreetly, her eyes flickering down to his gun "and you're unarmed" he deduced. Again, her brown creased in frustration and she adjusted her position uncomfortably, presumably becoming more panicked by the second.

"What makes you think that Mr Potter?" she said, her voice ever so slightly higher now as her eyes fixed themselves on his.

"You're frightened," he said, taking great satisfaction in the way she squirmed under his scrutiny "which means you've done something stupid, something that you know is going to _make_ you look suspicious. Which also makes me think that you're not here for no reason. When my back was turned, if you'd truly wanted to stay hidden, you'd have run away," he continued to guess "but instead you alerted me to your presence, which leads me to believe that whatever has got you into trouble, is much scarier than me," he spoke clearly and carefully, watching the telling twitch at the corner of her eye and the small quivering of her left hand which told him he was right "and the fact that you're not answering tells me that you know full well there's someone watching us, or a high chance that anything you say will be heard by someone that shouldn't be hearing it," Harry said, a look of understanding creeping into his face. But before she could gather her wits and say something else, he'd lurched for her, grabbing her around the waist and hitting the ground as three curses flew over their heads.

"Hold your breath," he yelled and before someone could shoot something else at him, he'd rolled over in their position on the floor and apparated them away.

* * *

><p>"Who is she?" Kingsley asked urgently and focused as he bent over his desk, eyes scanning the information on the parchment in front of him.<p>

"Natasha Gottschalk. She comes from a line of German wizards, but she has an American accent; she's lived in wizarding Los Angeles for the majority of her life and she only came to England a couple of years back," Harry informed "apparently, she was part of Voldemort's secret elite force, but she was too clever to get caught or leave anything incriminating. Until now, of course. She's trained in combat and moves fast and quick on her feet," he hadn't been able to prevent himself from digging up everything he could on her – the look in her eyes had been fear and pain, and something resembling the appearance of a deer in the headlights. Damn empathy complex "I think she's scared though," he continued "something's not right out there Kingsley; she's in over her head. Something's making me nervous. Something tells me Lucius Malfoy is more powerful than we think he is," Harry sighed tiredly with his hands on his hips as he bent his spine back slightly, clicking the bones and tissues awake again.

He'd been working for twenty four hours straight trying to get answers out of this strange woman, but like all the leads they'd thought they had landed on in the last couple of weeks, nothing but mystery and an extra intriguing and irritating prisoner remained.

"Wait, this woman is _the_ Natasha Gottschalk? Harry, she's well known for _not_ being well known. Dammit, that girl has always been impossible to get to. But you say you think she's scared?" Kingsley asked with wary frown and Harry nodded, a frown creasing his brow.

"Yes, she would have been able to get away from me without letting me know she was there, yet she still approached a confrontation with me. I think she want's my help, but she knows what could happen to her if she tells me anything. I think she's clever enough to know that whatever Lucius has happening out there is extremely dangerous," Harry said, sure of himself. He had seen the 'in over my head' look on his boyfriend's face many a time and he knew that whatever was coming was not going to be pretty.

"Alright Potter, you've done well; go and rest we'll keep Natasha in a high security chamber; for the moment she'll be treated as a dangerous criminal, but I'll tell them to remember that she's just an informant. Go on, I'm sure Draco's getting anxious now"

When Harry was breaking into the shack, Draco had been watching from the trees nearby and had just managed to time his apparation right with Harry's before the link could injure them, but Draco had been told to interrogate another suspect they had in custody whilst Harry had been dealing with Natasha in the room opposite, so he hadn't seen him all night really.

"Thank you sir, I'll be in tomorrow morning; I don't care if it's a weekend, this needs to be sorted before it gets ugly," Harry said, his eyes itching from tiredness and Kinglsey nodded, briefly shaking Harry's hand as he left the office straight after his colleague.

Parvati sighed, pushing her black hair from her dark skinned face as she was held against the wall by her throat.

"Oh for fucks sake, if you're going to kill me just bloody do it already, I'm not going to tell you anything," she ranted, rolling her eyes, expertly hiding how terrified she was.

"Let's see if you're still saying that when we're fucking you bloody, little girl," a creepy, evil voice taunted in her ear and she tensed her muscles to repress a revolted shiver. She simply grimaced at the masked man.

"Dude, you really need to brush your teeth; your breath fucking stinks!" she remarked, proud of herself for holding up a facade as she felt something hard and cold pressing against her flat tummy and sharp fingernails dragged her pyjama top up slightly, calloused hands tickling deliberately across her skin. Nausea begun to gather at the pit of her stomach and she swallowed tightly, not really knowing how long she could improvise for.

As she had been dragged from her bed screaming, she'd managed to fling her foot out and kick in what looked to be a wardrobe. Really, it was a box linked with a magical alarm system in the Auror department, and also with a computer chip attached directly to Ron's mobile phone. It had been twenty minutes since she'd sounded it and every now and again she would feel the coin in her pocket that had burned all those years ago for their DA club, heating up. It told her that there were people on the way to get her, but would have to be careful about it.

She wasn't an Auror, but knew very well the way things worked at the Ministry; she would always prefer to have someone caught and punished for a crime, than have her own life saved. And Ron had told her about Lucius Malfoy coming back; the fact that there were two masked deatheaters threatening to torture her in her front room was most definitely a confirmation of this news.

She knew she'd need to wait for her own opportunity though, something that could give her the upper hand to save her own life, and contain theirs. She saw it coming before they had actually; stupid boneheads.

"Little bitch," one of them spat and just as his hand was about to collide with her face, she felt the other man's grip on her jugular slacken subconsciously, as she'd predicted. Just on time, she ducked away from the man's hand and the other's fist, shoving her knee into his testicles and flinging her other leg upwards to cave into the other's jaw.

She knew they'd only be distracted for a second, so she lurched forward, yanking the wand from the man in the foetal position's hand and pointing it sideways at the man with the broken jaw, putting her foot onto the floored one's chest and pressing down hard, she grinned triumphantly at them both, only standing down when Aurors bashed down her front door and managed to restrain them.

"Miss Patil, a pleasure as always," Draco said with a smirk Harry stood back up to full height and gestured for his colleagues to take her attackers away.

"Boys," Parvati acknowledged, hugging Harry tightly and grasping Draco's hand momentarily. She rolled her eyes when Draco took her face in his hands, his eyes searching her for any injuries.

"They blacked your eye and fractured your collar bone; better get yourself down to St Mungos Patil; your house is a crime scene now. Never a dull moment for you is there?" he sighed and she laughed, nodding.

"How come it took you so fucking long? I was running out of witty comments," she replied and he smiled, ruffling her hair.

"Shut up and go get yourself sorted; I'll send someone over to get a full statement later," Harry said, pressing a kiss to her cheek and helping her through the door.

"Always good humour with that girl; but she doesn't half end up in the most ridiculous situations. Fucking assholes," Draco sighed, glancing at the criminals being collected by their team when Harry walked back in, stepping over the cracked coffee table.

"I've got a strong suspicion that she's dating Ron actually," Harry thought aloud, crouching down and lifting the mask that had fallen from the unknown deatheater's face when he'd fallen, staring at it with a dark expression.

"I never thought I'd have to look at one of these things again," Harry said coldly, his eyes narrowed. Draco leaned back against the wall and put his hands in his pockets, watching Harry intensely as he turned the metal mask over his hands.

"How are you coping with this Potter?" he asked seriously "I mean, I know I'm a bit fucked in the head at the moment, but no one's really asked you how you are," Draco said, tilting his head to the side as his eyes travelled the tensed contours of Harry's face. There was no answer to his question, just a slight bowing of a head and an exhausted, rattily exhale of breath in reply. Once again, Draco felt a huge surge of incredibly strong hate for his estranged father.

"Don't get upset, you'll make me feel worse," Harry said distractedly, swallowing and drawing back up to full height, still not looking at Draco "if she's been dating Ron then she has to know something is up at the ministry, which means that she's still in danger. Where's her mobile?" Harry wondered aloud, changing the subject, sprinting up the stairs, knowing Draco would follow him.

"Potter, why would anything be on her mobile? She's a clever girl, she wouldn't send any classified information via text message," Draco said, brow creased as he did his own searching around the bedroom, getting a few ideas of exactly how she'd been manhandled and attacked.

"No, but Ron would; he's a little careless sometimes. I know he wouldn't say anything to anyone if I told him not to, he does have a lot of common sense in that type of situation; but unless I give him specifics, he tends to forget what he's allowed to say and what he isn't," Harry explained, finding her mobile in the top draw of her bedside table, but not touching it.

He took out his wand.

"Procer verro," he said, watching a blue magical field scan the mobile for fingerprints. It picked up three different sets. He took out a small box from his pocket and flicked it open "colligere et stipes," he breathed again in concentration, watching as the magical field took hologram pictures of each print and floated them into the box, cutting off when Harry clicked the lid shut again, putting it back in the pocket of his black jeans. He then lifted the mobile with his wand into a bag that Draco threw to him across the bed, sealing it shut with a locking spell.

"But we're not forensics; wait till Neville and Dean get over here and they'll be able to tell us more. Once they're here, we need to get back to the ministry and look through your records. Hopkirk leaves the tracker sheets for ex-deatheaters on your desk every day, right? So we need to go and see who was where at what times in the last week," Harry said in a focused voice.

"What about Gottschalk?" Draco asked and Harry sighed, running a hand through his jet black hair and shrugging.

"I'll do another interview with her later I suppose, see if I can get anything else out of her. Can you go and wait for Nev please?" Harry asked in a slightly softer voice and Draco nodded respectfully, moving to leave the room.

"Draco?" Harry asked and Draco halted in the doorway, turning to look at his boyfriend's turned back "I love you," he said once, his tone still tired and distracted, but the meaning was there and Draco could feel the truth and turmoil swimming across the link through his mind.

"I know," he sighed with a half-smile, going to examine downstairs a little more and wait for Neville, Dean and the forensics team to arrive.

* * *

><p>"Has anyone seen Ron lately?" Tom asked as Hermione took his hand and marched him through the double doors.<p>

"No, that's why I'm here; I want to speak to Harry about it. Ron's not answering his phone and Parvati said she hasn't spoken to him since her house was broken into," Hermione said with the tone she used when she was on a mission.

"Right... and why am I here?" he asked, confused and she stopped, turning to look at him, taking his face in her hands and pressing a rough, affectionate kiss to his forehead.

"I know you don't do anything unless you think I'm safe; we're not going to have to take any more time off work, I promise. You've been so lovely to me when I haven't really done anything in return and I appreciate that it's been hard for you because you don't really understand anything that's going on right now. But I need you to trust me Tom; I need you to just trust me," she breathed "I know it's a lot to ask, and I swear we'll apparate right back to LA after I've talked to Harry, but I need you here in case I need to put you into protective housing, is that okay? Because I swear, if it isn't I will completely understand, in fact, I'll apparate you straight back to America now if that's what you want," she said softly, smiling at him warmly.

He shook his head.

"Dude, do you know me at all? You're my friend! Regardless of whether we're off work for a little bit longer, I'm here for you! Now hush" he demanded, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair momentarily before pulling away.

"Now, I want to see Harry; he has some explaining to do," Tom said with a big, teasing grin and she nodded seriously, taking his hand again but letting him lead a little more now.

She knew their online following were reporting offensive things about them since they hadn't been able to perform much this past month. They were saying that Tom was a 'tool' and that the band were just taking time off because she'd told them to. That was not true in the slightest. Anyone who knew her band mates, also knew that they would only ever take time off doing what they loved if their friends or family needed them. He was very serious about his career, at the same time as being laid back about it; she wasn't forcing them to do anything, in fact, she'd told them to go back to work several times. They just wouldn't leave her whilst she was trying to make sense of things still.

Of course, now there was the looming threat of Lucius and the deatheaters to deal with, and there was no way she was leaving Tom, her closest friend in LA at the moment, unattended. He was ridiculously smart, but he had a tendency to do mad things and she didn't want him to get hurt after he'd been there for her.

"Hermione, Tom! What are you doing here?" Harry said as he looked up from where he stood at his desk as around fifteen other colleagues rushed around him scribbling things, calling people and handing each other paperwork. He walked forward, hugging her tightly and shaking Tom's hand briskly with a small smile.

"Harry, why are there all these people in your office?"

"You're asking stupid questions again Granger," Malfoy drawled, cutting in on the conversation and she glared at him; she was unable to keep pouting however when he pressed a kiss to her cheek and winked at her, smirking slightly as she looked away from him.

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Yes you do Granger, you're here to ask about Weasley and yet you're wasting your time inquiring about the amount of people in this office? You already know why they're here, so can you just shout at Potter and get it over with? I've got a headache," Malfoy sighed, mildly acknowledging Tom with a nod.

"Why the hell haven't you told me that he's missing?" Hermione snapped, her voice holding that warning tone, looking Harry straight in the eye.

"Because I knew you would start worrying and I've got it under control; I've got my best people searching for him everywhere Hermione, you're supposed to be back in LA! You can't keep messing the band around like this, they're going to get tired of it," Harry said sternly, overriding her annoyed tone and making her even angrier.

"You are kidding me, right? You want me to be in America when we're in the middle of a deatheater crisis and one of my best friends is missing?" she exclaimed, narrowing her eyebrows and Harry shook his head.

"No, I want you to get Tom back to LA so he can go back to work. The band can manage without you, it's just whilst we sort everything out. Then I want you to join up with the team over there so you can look for Ron. That way, the sooner we find him, the sooner you can get back to your life, and the sooner I can get back to dealing with little Miss Mysterious," he answered as Tom shook his head.

"Oh hell no! You think I'm going to let her go trekking across America without any question? I might be a 'moogle' or whatever you guys call us, but I've still got a brain! I can protect her," Tom declared, taking her hand tightly and squeezing it.

"No offence mate, but I think Granger can take care of herself; you haven't seen her in action, she's one of the most powerful witches I've ever met, even if she is a hissy bitch," Malfoy admitted and Hermione slapped his bicep.

"Shut up! He is right though Tom; I swear, I'll come and see you every night to let you know I'm okay, but you guys need to start performing again. I can't keep asking you to give up the things you love to look after me unnecessarily, it's not fair," she said, voice soft with quiet affection.

"I know that, but I've told you it's what we want-"

"I love seeing you every day, don't get me wrong, but this is dangerous and even though I know your strong and good in combat, you're not going to be any match for hexes and jinxes flying through the air and seventy miles an hour," she interjected, knowing that it was hurting his pride to be having this conversation in front of other people.

"I just feel useless! I want to be able to keep you safe-"

"But I don't need to be kept safe Tom! The whole point of Harry sending me with these Aurors is because he trusts me to get myself home in one piece. I can hold my own, you need to realise that I'm a fully grown witch. I adore having you around, but this is something that has to happen. Things will be back to how they were before the break up soon, I promise," she said, giving Harry a look that simply said 'go away before I hit you both' and took Tom to one side.

"I know it's hard for you to understand, and I know I'm changing my mind all the time; but everything is changing so fast with it and you need to do your own thing whilst I do mine. Nothing is going to end between us, you're still going to be my favourite person over there; it's just that I refuse to hold you back anymore. I'll be back at work soon, I promise," she smiled gently, brushing a tiny black curl from his forehead as she watched his resolve dissolve and he bit his own tongue, nodding once.

"Fine," he said once, sighing when she gave him puppy eyes "_fine_," he repeated, letting her hug him one more time before she directed him to the person who would be apparating him home.

"You okay?" Harry asked when she joined him amongst the organised chaos and she nodded once.

"It was the right thing to do. But we have work to do. Who the hell is 'Miss Mysterious'?" she inquired, picking up a random file of notes and skimming through. They were papers on one Sebastian Temple, a twenty seven year old Egyptian deatheater living in Russia. They'd been tracking him for weeks, but nothing was out of the ordinary, so she threw it back on the table.

"Natasha Gottschalk," he answered her in a low voice, wincing as he rubbed his tense forehead, leaning over one of the women as he read something quickly that had obviously occurred to him randomly.

"Gottschalk? _The _Natasha Gottschalk? Harry, when did you manage to catch her?" Hermione exclaimed exasperatedly, looking surprised.

"I didn't catch her, she practically asked me to bring her in! But she's having a little bit of confliction, she won't tell me anything useful, she's more interested in glaring pointedly at my crotch and flirting with me than anything else," Harry said, shaking his head as he bit the inside of his mouth in thought.

"Anderson, do we have any info on the Selwyns?" Harry called across the room, lifting his arm over someone's head and taking a file that someone was handing him, slapping it down on the desk and opening it.

"And how is Draco liking _that_?" Hermione grinned, crossing her arms over her breasts and looking sideways at Malfoy who was telling someone off for not doing something quick enough.

"He hates her! Keeps ending up in a sparring match with her when we let him in to question her, you know how possessive he can get," Harry commented innocently and Hermione laughed lightly, nodding and shaking her head in mirth.

"Oh yes, but don't deny that you love it Harry," she teased softly and he rolled his eyes as a pink tinge appeared in his cheeks, the corner of his mouth twitching as he nibbled his bottom lip, eyes scanning the writing in front of him behind his glasses.

"I'm not denying anything," he replied, glaring at Hermione's fit of giggles when Draco deliberately slapped his bottom as he walked passed.

"Oh boys, your kinks are showing," she commented, laughing even more when Draco winked at her.

"Shut up," Harry hissed, flushing even redder as he buried himself in a new file, pouting when the colour in his face had gone down enough to be deemed non-humiliating.

"I've missed you two," she sighed softly, smiling up at Draco when she felt a hand resting on her shoulder. She laid her own over it and pressed a quick peck on his knuckles as they both watched Harry squirming under scrutiny.

"You know I'm higher rank than both of you, right? So I can order you to stop being so bloody embarrassing," he snapped and Draco grinned, deliberately dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

"Oh, I get all tingly when you take control Potter"

"Seriously, shut up"

"I'm in trouble later Granger"

"Yes, you are, now be quiet," Harry said in a slightly more mischievous tone and Draco actually had to look away. Hermione arched one eyebrow, patting Draco's hand affectionately before standing up.

"Right then, I'm off to go find Ron; I'm telling you, give me a week and I'll be dumping him on your doorstep, after that the bastard can be left to Parvati," Hermione smiled, enjoying the thought of Ron being shouted at by a Patil for a second before she bid goodbye to her boys and left, gesturing for a few of the Aurors she knew to follow her.

"Funny how she can get people to do what she says even though she doesn't actually work here," Draco mused, plonking himself down in the seat she'd been in previously and watching his boyfriend still scanning the file on the Selwyns.

"She's Hermione, all the fire in hell would cower at her temper if she batted her eyelids a few times; I love her to bits but she's damn scary if she doesn't get what she wants," Harry remarked as he closed the file and sighed stressfully.

"I'm guessing you'll be wanting a massage tonight then," Draco smiled in a softer way and Harry tutted at him, handing the file back to Anderson and allowing Draco to clasp his hand for a moment "stop it, you're getting worked up again and it's stressing me out even more. Quit it Potter," Malfoy said in a level tone, discreetly bringing the hand to his mouth and dropping a tender kiss to the calloused knuckles.

"We'll work a few more hours and then I'm dragging you home," Draco said firmly, standing up and momentarily leaning their foreheads together, not caring that the bustling office could see them.

"And stop worrying; you know Granger will find Weasley, and we'll find a lead soon, I promise," he reassured again, tapping Harry's face affectionately and ordering Mafalda to give him the notes on all deatheater groupings over the last three years. Harry smiled for a second before delving back into work, ignoring the increasing crick in his neck.

* * *

><p>"Well, hello again Mr Malfoy," Natasha said softly, raising one slender eyebrow and watching as Draco sat down in the chair opposite her.<p>

"They're not hurting you or anything, are they?" he asked, frowning when he saw her newly acquired black eye.

"No," she smiled "no one's hurting me, I tripped yesterday and hit my eye on the corner of my bed, no big deal," she said simply but he lifted his head in acceptance once, clearly not convinced and making a mental note to have her guards inspected later on.

"So, my dear little ray of sunshine, you going to tell me anything today?" he asked, sitting back in his chair in a boyish manner. Then he saw it, something he hadn't seen before in her expression; a glitch, a tiny twitch in the corner of her beautiful, bruised green eye. She swallowed and took in a short breath, nodding.

"I think so; I'm tired of this now. You should know Malfoy, before I start talking, I've always looked after myself, I've done everything in the name of keeping myself alive; but this is different and it's not right. What your father is planning to do isn't something I can keep quiet about... it's not something I can just give to you either. I'm bound to certain levels of secrecy, there are some things I don't understand very much, and some things I just can't tell you because the vow will burn me up from the inside," she began. He sat back, sliding a glass of water and a box of muggle tissues across the table towards her, waiting for her to continue.

"Three months ago, I got a call from an unknown number; I ignored it at first, but it wouldn't leave me alone and I was having threatening messages dropped through my letter box, a letter box that no one should have been able to find. I'm a spy Mr Malfoy, an ex-deatheater, you know more than anyone that when we don't want to be found, no one can get to us. So how the hell did anyone know where I was? So the one night, I answered the phone and it was your father. I didn't believe it to begin with but then he started telling me things, explaining how he managed to survive and I knew he wasn't lying. So I met up with his accomplices, trained anonymises that he'd threatened into service-"

"But none of them were a match for you. I'm not stupid Tash, I know how skilled you are, how strong you are. That's why I haven't let you out of custody yet, because I know that if you really wanted to leave, you'd have escaped by now," Draco said and she nodded with a small smile.

"I'm not evil Draco, what they did to you all those years ago was despicable," she sighed and he scoffed bitterly.

"Yeah, a lot of people tell me that; funny how none of them bothered to stop it happening in the first place if it was so 'awful' and 'inhuman'. But we're here to talk about you, so carry on," he said forcefully, looking at her with hard eyes, waiting for her to elaborate.

"There isn't much I can tell you after that. He told me I'd be raped and murdered if I didn't comply with his orders, so I did what I was told like I always have done. I'm good at what I do Malfoy, but I know when I'm in over my head and I do whatever I can to get out again. They're going after someone. They've got a main goal. I have to be careful about what I'm saying," she paused, shifting in her chair and pulling her hair around her back, allowing the air to get to the skin of her neck "they believe that if they hit the ministry where it hurts, then it'll fall like dominos. It's the same game plan as before; racial purity. But now they want enslavement of the Muggleborns and... they all want the one person for their slave, they're actually squabbling over _three_ different people. It's a bet on who'll get who first, and you can probably guess what three people they want... and the one person who's the shining jewel in their collection," Natasha finished.

By the time the information had set in his mind, Draco was already shaking slightly, his hands balled into fists, hairs standing on end, nausea rising in his stomach as the dangerous tingles crawled over his skin. He knew this feeling, he'd experienced it before; when something terrible was about to happen to people he loved and he knew that it was going to be next to impossible to stop it.

"Just-" he stopped a second to let out a small tuft of breath before continuing "just how strong are they?" he asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Not as strong as before. They're only following your father because he has plans and strategies. When Voldemort was in charge it was about loyalty, glory; now they're just angry, they're not in it to win acceptance, they're in it for-"

"Revenge," Malfoy said in a harsh, frighteningly quiet voice. He briefly heard the door open behind him, but it barely snapped him from his train of thought "Potter, I think we need to talk," Draco said, not even having to look around to know it was his boyfriend who had felt his conflicted emotions and had come to check on them.

"No need, I was listening in; Gottschalk, are you sure?" Harry asked, his voice tired, weak and shaky. Draco glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye and felt a jolt in his stomach for how pale Harry had gone.

"Yes. It's much more gruesome than before and there's more hatred involved. It won't be a full blown war, that's exactly what they're avoiding; this is about causing pain and watching the people who shattered their dream of the perfect race, crumble. They want to see the people who killed their master crash and burn, and they want it to happen at their hand," she said, her tongue shakily wetting her lips and it was obvious that she was just as worried as them.

"Potter, call Granger back from America now," Draco's voice cut through the dead silence sharply and Harry nodded, his hand squeezing Draco's shoulder enough to hurt for a second, before he turned and left.

"Gottschalk, I'm blocking Potter out of my mind for a second and I want you to tell me truthfully, where is Ron Weasley?" he asked, his voice not particularly threatening, but there was a silky hate running through the words that made her realise that the boy who'd sat screaming in his room through the initiation period of his branding, had turned into not only a good man, but a strong, careful thinking and very angry, protective one.

It was this, that made her forget all about her years of service to the deatheaters, or double crossing others to get ahead and save her own life; and decided that these were the people she was going to fight with.

"He's alive-"

"Natasha, where is he?" he demanded more forcefully, sitting forward, his gaze piercing hers. She swallowed tightly again, pursing her lips together for a second to stop them from quivering.

"They've got him, he's being held hostage at one of their facilities," she started, but he cut across her again.

"Where?"

"London sewers"

* * *

><p>Harry lowered himself slowly and silently from the ladder. He looked up once at the light above him before letting go of the bar he was hanging from and landing soundlessly and athletically on his feet. The water splashed ever so slightly as he dropped, but not enough to catch anyone's ear and he immediately grimaced as the putrid smell of human and rat excretion filled his nostrils.<p>

He felt Draco land just as carefully behind him along with Hermione, Natasha and Narcissa. It was probably incredibly dangerous for them all to be there in a group, but Harry couldn't get Hermione to stay behind and despite Draco's greatest efforts of telling Narcissa to lock herself safely in the manor, she'd shouted him down and promised him that if he said another word, she'd break into the baby pictures to show Harry.

Natasha was the most skilled in combat among them, knowing a range of martial arts and the techniques the deatheaters used in combat; so she was still being kept in custody, but Harry had allowed her to help them as well.

Harry gestured for Hermione and Narcissa to flank them, lighting their wands dimly and keeping low whilst Natasha stalked the middle and Harry and Draco brought up the front, wands drawn but no light; they couldn't risk being seen before they wanted to be.

"Okay, be careful and watch everywhere," Harry breathed as they began walking slowly, trying to draw some sort of comforting emotion from Draco through the link, but getting nothing. Besides, they couldn't let their guard down while they were doing this, they were going to have to use the situation to their advantage.

So because they were linked through everything including basic senses, they could magnify everything between them. They could hear extra sensitively and smell every tiny movement in the air. They had both been trained to attune their magical energy to everyone else. They would know within a second if anyone else was among them.

It was dark and even with Hermione and Cissa's wandlight, things were difficult to make out, but this was Harry's job and he'd be damned if he let anything happen to Ron in his lifetime.

"Okay, take a tunnel each," Harry whispered and they all split up, Harry and Draco taking the one head on.

"There's one up there," Draco said, and Harry nodded. They both backed up against the opposite end of the putrid semi-circled funnel, sliding along it silently before they got slightly closer to the man stood at the end of the watery path.

Draco made the first move, crouching with one leg and kicking the man off balance; they wouldn't have been able to sneak up on him, Draco had informed them that it was sort of impossible to just grab a deatheater and knock it out. So the boys were using the same strategy they'd had between them for three years; disorientate, drop and discard.

The man stumbled back for a split second before he swung a scarred fist towards Harry, who ducked and aimed his own fist into the man's ribs. Draco dislocated the man's knee cap whilst Harry was caught in the jaw with another punch, but recovered quickly and shoved his knee into their opponent's nose, affectively knocking him out.

"Who is it?" Harry asked and Draco shook his head as he crouched down by the man's face, opening his palm and placing a hairclip portkey into it.

"I don't know, but Kinsgley's not going to have a hard time interrogating him, I don't remember it ever being that easy fighting a deatheater," Draco frowned as the hand began to glow and his body disappeared.

"Well, you didn't have me," Harry grinned with a wink, holding a hand out to pull his boyfriend to his feet as they carried on with more of a sprint down the fuming corridor.

Natasha was sweating by the time she'd reached the end of her tunnel. After taking out four of the guards in the first three minutes of her walk, she was pumping with familiar adrenaline and a cut on her lip was stinging like hell. But she was more awake than she'd been in three weeks and they didn't call her a master assassin for nothing. By the time she was positioned in the correct place to take down the guys in the chamber guarding this Weasley kid, she had to crouch against the wall and wait for the others to be finished with their own targets.

"Alright, he's got a weak shoulder blade, if you can fracture that, I'll break his arm and dislocate his spine," Narcissa breathed in Hermione's ear as they flattened their back's against a corner, peaking around every now and again to look at the man they were supposed to be targeting.

"But it'll paralyse him!"

"Not enough to damage his speech and as far as I'm concerned, that's all we need them for; if it was any different, I'd kill them all on the spot," the aging beauty said with no emotion and Hermione sighed, feeling the familiar pang of sadness that she normally reserved for Draco.

"Alright, let's go; and be quiet," she whispered back.

As they reached him, Hermione slammed her elbow straight into his shoulder blade, ducking a fisted swing as Narcissa used the distraction to snap his arm with a sickening crack that echoed down the halls. Narcissa's surprisingly powerful knee cap collided upwards with the bottom of his spine just under his coxic bone, her fist cracking the man's vertebra. In a single second, he was twitching on the floor.

"Ahh, Macmaire how lovely to see you again," Cissa remarked, crouching and spitting mercilessly in his face. It was obscure, the Malfoy's that had defected were normally likeable enough for one to forget that they had once been raging killing machines; it was moments like this that Hermione was painfully reminded of it.

Perhaps watching the anger contort the elegant, pale features just made Narcissa Black even more beautiful; despite the soft wrinkles creeping up her forehead and in the corners of the uniquely pale green eyes.

Hermione dropped the portkey to land on the tensed junction in his neck, right against his stained, tattood skin and watching him vanish as a vegetable; pitiful and helpless as the majority of his victims had been over the years. Hermione realised she too had been changed by what she'd seen in the war; this disgusting executioner was getting everything he deserved. A loud tap rang through the middle chamber suddenly and within seconds a fight had broken out.

Whilst the others were duelling, or, if you were opposing Natasha, playing victim to a wince worthy amount of broken bones and concussions; Hermione had ducked beneath everyone to crouch with tears running down her face as she tried with shaking hands to untie her barely conscious and almost unrecognisable ex-boyfriend.

"Heerrrr-her-hermion-ee," he breathed, the syllables jumbling on his slurred tongue as his chest rose and feel in dangerously slow intervals. Blood streamed heavily from a deep gash across on of his ribs, cutting into the taught muscles across his torso.

"Shh, I'm going to get you out of here," she whimpered, brushing his hair out of his face, paying no heed to the blood smearing across her palm "why do you always have to bleed all over me, ay?" she half chuckled, half sobbed as she managed to cut through the ropes, kneeling beside him and lifting his back so he was laid across her lap slightly, his head being supported by her right arm.

"D-d-dangerous," he managed to cough as he accidently tensed on of his stomach muscles and cried out slightly in pain.

"I told you to be quiet!" she reprimanded "do you ever do as you're told? Actually, don't answer that one; come on, grab my hand tight," she breathed, closing her eyes shut as a tear dropped from her cheeks and landed on his nose. She leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to his sticky, burning hot forehead and took in a deep breath as the portkey started to activate.

The last thing she saw was Harry and Natasha taking out a deatheater that was being particularly stubborn before she disappeared with the familiar jerk behind the naval as she was sucked into a whirlpool of colour, air and light.

"Alright, put the portkeys in every hand, make sure they're all unconscious; we don't want them trying to let go in transport. Then we're going to get out of here. Hermione left with Ron a couple of minutes back. Is anyone seriously hurt?" Harry asked, seeing one of the deatheaters stirring and kicking his face for good measure. His eyes followed the length of Cissa for a second just to make sure before Natasha looked up at him as she panted, leaning against the wall for support.

"Just a weakening jinx; I'll be fine in a few hours- no, Draco there's no ne-" but she was cut off when Draco threw one of her arms over his shoulder and took on most of her weight.

"Potter, let's just go," Draco sighed, wiping an identical trickle of blood from Harry's cheekbone momentarily and winking once.

"Alright, everyone put your hands on this," Harry said tiredly, reaching out with an old, ugly earring in his hand as everyone touched it. In that second, all the bodies around them began to glow and everything around them began to spin.

* * *

><p>"Have you got them all in custody?" Harry shouted as they all ran down the corridor of the ministry, stopping panting in front of Kinglsey. He shook his head, looking very troubled, very angry and very stressed.<p>

"No – I mean, yes, they're all being treated in a secure location at the moment but I've just got a call from Azkaban... Harry, Lucius Malfoy's escaped"

Harry's face screwed up momentarily as he cursed loudly, slamming his foot into the wall next to him, causing Draco to roll his eyes upward and hop around, clutching his foot.

"How the fuck did that happen?" Harry exclaimed, ignoring the splintered stabbing pains in his big toe and Draco who was glaring at him and still coughing out, his eyes streaming with the stinging.

"We don't know! That's the thing, we have all our best forensics on his cell now, trying to figure out how it happened-"

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that a dozen other prisoners escaped as well," Draco managed to speak, forcing himself to push away the pain, still staring daggers at Harry.

"That's the thing that's confusing! All the other prisoners are dead," Kingsley sighed, shrugging to himself in confusion.

"Dead? Why are they dead?" Harry yelled again, his voice reaching a slightly higher pitch as his eyes widened and he threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"They just dropped, the same time Lucius just disappeared. But Harry, there's another thing... We got Ron turning up on our doorstep half dead a couple of hours ago, but Hermione was just gone. We can't find her anywhere"

This time, Draco reacted first.

"_Fuck_!" he growled "I've had enough of this! I want to know how the fuck she disappeared right under our noses. It's fucking crazy! We watched her leave with Weasley! No one grabbed onto her or anything!" Draco said, running his hands through his hair as his mother put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

"I told you Harry, if there isn't a way for Lucius to escape, he creates one. It's started; he's free which means he's probably already giving orders, and they've already got a base. Before you do anything you need to question the deatheaters we have," she said softly, smiling sadly and reaching out to latch the tips of her fingers loosely onto Harry's hand.

"That won't do any good! They're all as bad as Natasha for being ambiguous and they're all probably under the vow-"

"So torture it out of them," she said simply with a shrug and Harry's eyebrows hit the top of his head.

"No! I'm not going to torture them! That's not me-"

"I'll do it," Draco said harshly, nodding once.

"Oh no, no fucking way!" he said immediately "you're not putting yourself through that again; this is an impossible situation and my best friend is missing, I will not lose you as well," Harry said forcefully, hitting an affronted Draco over the back of the head.

"So let me do it," Narcissa said dully in an almost bored voice.

"No! Mother, you're older now, there's no sugar coating it and I promised myself I would never let you do that-"

"I paralysed someone from the neck down in a split second today Draco and felt no remorse. I am your mother, you cannot tell me what I can and cannot do. Now I will not see good people suffer because a few cold hearted bastards think the world should be full of evil. Like it or not Draco, I was a deatheater long before you were born and I'm a Black daughter; I shall protect my own no matter the cost," she said firmly, clearly reaching her quota of tolerance for the day "minister," she turned to Kingsley "I politely request to speak with these deatheaters we captured this evening; I won't be asking nicely the next time if I'm refused" she said.

"Well Mrs Malfoy, I'm not really permitted to give you access to convicted war criminals-"

"With all due respect Kingsley, my name is Narcissa Black now, and it's as I said, if I'm not granted access, I shall find my own," she said, again, keeping her solid, gravelly cool "I have more in common with my husband than you want to know. Would you like to find out?"

Draco watched with bitter amusement as his mother practically told off the minister of magic. Kingsley looked as though he was very much struggling to find the words to tell the woman advancing on him that he couldn't give her what she wanted. Eventually, he gave up and threw his arms up, angry purple eyes gleaming with disapproval, exasperation and slight admiration as he nodded.

"Very well Ms Black, but only five minutes with each of them and try not to hurt them too much, you do not understand the extent of the consequences if the press find out I have allowed prisoners to be tortured under my care"

* * *

><p>Parvati sighed deeply, shaking her head as she looked at Ron laid in the hospital bed, the steady bleeping of the heart monitor next to him reassuring her more every minute that he wasn't really dead.<p>

"You okay?" a voice escaped his lips before his eyes opened and she contracted her chest, closing her eyes for a second before opening them to meet his and nodding.

"Yes, but if you ever do that to me again Freckles, I will genuinely make sure you can't speak for five months," she said forcefully and he laughed, the smile looked painful and stretched on his face; but mirthful and Ron-like nonetheless.

"Sorry, I'm just in high demand at the moment you see; the deatheaters love me and they all want a piece of me," he remarked in a croaky voice and she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Oh yes, of course, that's what it is," she replied sarcastically, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Come here," he said with a small smirk and she grinned back at him, standing up and leaning over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She'd only meant it to last a small second, but his big, calloused hand came up to her face and pulled her closer, his mouth pressing rougher against hers, a slow, heavy breath escaping through his nose as she kissed him back with equal fervour.

"Blimey I've missed you," he whispered against her lips as she broke away and she smiled gently, nodding once again.

"I missed you too, freckles"

* * *

><p>Hermione bit down hard on her tongue as a hand whipped across the side of her face, throwing her head sideways on her neck, the sting tingling across the tender skin as she felt it break slightly and blood trickled down her jaw.<p>

"You'll have to do better than that," Hermione taunted, brown eyes narrow and hard, almost mocking.

"You think you're so smart don't you sweetie? Well, you asked for it" Scabior breathed across her face, putrid and rotten. She grimaced, turning her head away but biting on her lip when his fist drew back and slammed hard into her ribs. She still refused to make any sounds of pain however and she could see it was making him more frustrated.

"I'm not going to tell you anything, so you may as well just kill me," she breathed, resisting the cough that her chest was trying to push out and swallowing hard. She appeared to be indifferent and revolted outwardly, but inside she was absolutely terrified. She was tied tightly to a wooden chair in the middle of nowhere with two deatheaters stood around her. She was completely helpless and if they wanted to really hurt her, they wouldn't have a single problem with it.

"That's the thing though beautiful, we don't want you to tell us anything. You're here as bait, and when Potter and Weasley get here," he pressed a repulsive kiss to her cheek where his hand had hit "we're going to kill all three of you"


	13. Chapter 13

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Miss Hermione Granger. Long-time no see, love," a hard, cold, taunting voice sounded from across the room and wormed its way through to Hermione's barely there consciousness. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head from the side of her neck and opened her swollen eyes, feeling pure hatred fill her as she took in the much improved sight of one Lucius Malfoy.

She could tell he was still recovering from his stay in Azkaban, but other than that he looked significantly well groomed. His long, white hair was brushed back, not a strand out of place; his cuts and bruises obviously healing very fast and he looked rather smug with himself.

"Go to hell," she managed to say in a quiet, sharp voice; her syllables coming out in ever so slightly slurred hisses of repulsion.

"Well, that's no way to talk to your inferiors now is it Miss Granger? I think you owe me an apology," he said, pouting as he crouched, looking her right in the eyes "say sorry," he repeated, that evil smirk curving the corners of his thin lips as his dark green eyes narrowed. He was enjoying this. She was treated to another gash across her cheek however, when she spat in his face, her jaw clenching to soften the blow.

It stung, but she was still half awake so it barely affected her.

"You little harlot," Lucius remarked, grabbing a clump of hair from the back of her head and yanking it backwards as his lips brushed against the shell of her ear "mudblood" he whispered.

"Why are you doing this?" she breathed, eyes wide and brimming with tears that wouldn't fall, not really feeling the smash of her head against the floor when he kicked the chair over forwards and her knee cap dislocated "what do you want?"

"More,"

"More what?"

"The trickster stories, are all about food, Miss Granger. The Coyote, the Raven, the Fox. They're all hungry…" she swallowed, the pressure of fear breathing and vibrating beneath her chest in repressed claws, begging to be released from her rib cage, to rip through her stomach and make her sob in pain "I just crave something a little different," he paused to listen to her shaky breathing and to take a couple of steps closer, gently pulling the hair away from her throat "I eat your fear," he whispered. She gasped, then whimpered as he drew in a deep breath against her skin, as though he was inhaling the stress hormones racking up in her body, pumping through the blood against her jugular, getting off on it. She could feel his slightly open lips against her ear again and his teeth brushing against the lobe "and I'm insatiable," he growled.

* * *

><p>"Alright mate?" Harry smiled as he dropped a box of grapes on Ron's bedside and sat down on the chair next to him.<p>

"No - this shit fucking hurts!" Ron sighed, shifting uncomfortably, the tubes hooked up to his arm moving a little as he did "where the hell is Hermione anyway? I haven't had a chance to thank her for saving my ass yet," he inquired, sitting up straighter and looking at Harry expectantly.

"Right... about that," Harry said, the underlining worry that was bugging him wherever he went becoming apparent on his well-trained face as Ron's brow furrowed.

"Harry?" Ron asked a little shakily.

"We don't understand how it even happened!" Harry blasted angrily, his head bowing in his hands, his fingernails scraping through his messy, jet black hair.

"How what happened?" Ron demanded.

"When Hermione took you with the portkey, you were unconscious; no one grabbed a hold of you as you left, no one could have touched you why you were in mid-teleport. We don't have a clue how it happened, but in the space of time that Hermione left with you and the portkey and when you got here, she disappeared," Harry said, shaking his head and rolling his head around on his neck to get the knots out.

"So, speed this up Harry," Ron gestured at his own body "because I'm tired of this place. I'm tired of people thinking that I'm too stupid to help you with this; Hermione's missing Harry, _our_ Hermione, and Lucius Malfoy just made this personal," Ron said, his eyes hard and stubborn.

"I don't know how to get you out of here Ron, you're still healing," Harry said, looking conflicted, but Ron shook his own head, sitting forward and grabbing Harry's forearm hard enough to bruise.

"You know you can speed this healing thing up; you're just keeping me in here because you think I'll be safer. But you know, Harry, you _know _that they can get to me, to us; wherever we are, they can get us. But they're not coming, they aren't coming to kidnap us or anything because they're smarter Harry. Why should they come and get us when they know we're going to them?" Ron said, his eyes wide and insistent. Harry's line of vision flickered down to the tubes plugged into Ron's arm. He opened his mouth for a moment as though he was going to protest, before he shut it again and swallowed, running one hand through his messy hair and looking at his friend again. He nodded once.

"Okay," Harry said, shoulders slumping in defeat "I'll tell them to give you a new serum that reboots your nervous system so you can move again properly," he began "it's going to be excruciating though, we're talking about frazzling every synapses in your body and then coating all your neurones with a chemical to repair them from scratch. And you need to be conscious for it, otherwise you can end up in a coma. It's faster than the treatment they're giving you at the moment and it's incredibly painful, but it's safe," Harry said as Ron let go of him, looking a little frightened, but otherwise still intent on getting out of hospital.

"How do you know it'll work?" Ron asked and Harry's face went from neutral to sad and foreboding in a second.

"It's Snape's design, he's tested it on himself"

* * *

><p>"Bloody hell mate, you look awful!" Harry exclaimed as Ron hobbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He immediately went to him and took some of the weight off his legs.<p>

"Yeah, well it _was_ awful. Tell Snape I owe him a thank you, and a punch in the goddamned face for how painful that stuff is," Ron said as Harry helped him into a seat. He really did look like walking death. His eyes were red rimmed and there were bags under them – his hands were shaky and his limbs looked as though they would snap like a twig despite the hard, built up muscle coating them.

"Tell him yourself," Harry said with a small, slightly amused grin and Ron looked up, his eyebrows raising as he took in the scene before him.

Draco and Natasha were perched on the kitchen counter, both looking at Ron with bored, satisfied looks at his pain. Narcissa was leant against the dining table fiddling with her nails whilst Snape was stood next to her, his eyes calculating, his posture mission-ready and more comfortable than expected. His arm was subtly placed behind him and Narcissa on the table, his body closer to hers than would be considered Snape-like (normally he shied away from all human contact).

Parvati was sat actually on the dining table with her legs crossed underneath her, chewing some gum. She winked at him from where she was placed. Her sister was sat beside her with her legs pulled up and tucked under her chin, her gaze a little far off as she flashed Ron a bored, tired smile. Luna, Seamus, Dean and Neville were stood in a group with a much taller George, bugging them all and drawing annoyed sounds from them with much amusement and mirth on his face. A few Aurors were gathered in the corner, only looking up from their conversation when Ron cleared his throat.

"Does someone want to tell me what the hell this is? Why is this such a random group of people?" Ron asked and Harry nodded once in acknowledgement of his question.

"Right, well these are the people that came storming into my office when someone let slip that Hermione was missing and most probably in deatheater captivity," Harry said pointedly, rolling his eyes when Ron blushed guiltily, dropping his head in momentary shame "but it's fine, after numerous heated discussions, I've agreed to let them be a part of her rescue-"

"Which I think is stupid, because we're not _rescuing_ her, we're walking into a fucking _trap_," Draco snapped, glaring at his boyfriend who simply drew in a deep breath. That shut him up though, because he could feel Harry working hard to bottle the anger and fear he felt through the link.

"We have a plan," Harry said, ignoring Draco's comment.

"Which is even more stupid because whenever we plan, everything just falls to shit," Draco muttered again, but this time he jumped from the counter and crouched in front of Ron.

"This is serious Weasley," he said "I'm not going to argue with you about anything, it's just going to waste time that we don't have. But let me tell you now, accuse me of anything, taunt me about anything, tell me that I don't care about Granger, I'll rip your throat out and send it in the mail to the Salvatore brothers, you get me?"

"Draco-"

"Shut up Potter. Weasley?" Draco asked again and after a split second's look of hatred, Ron swallowed and nodded.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth and Draco grinned, pushing up to full height and patronisingly ruffling Ron's hair, earning him one of those held back smirks of amusement from Harry that he found so attractive.

"Down Draco," Harry sighed and Draco grinned again, winking.

"Later honey, later"

Padma clapped excitedly and let out a squeal of happiness, smiling brightly at a suddenly disgruntled Draco as he looked at her like she was completely crazy.

"What Potter was saying was, we have a plan," Snape said, looking mildly amused as he stepped forward from the table, crossing his arms over his chest "once I've given you your last dosage of aftercare potion for the serum, you and Potter are going to get yourselves caught and taken in, just like they want," Snape started and Ron frowned.

"What about Malfoy and their link thingymabob?" Ron gestured awkwardly and Harry stood hard on Draco's foot to keep him from making a snide comment and ending up hypocritical of what he'd just asked Ron not to do.

"Draco's last name is Black now. And he's going to be the one to bring them in. It's risky, but Lucius is rather desperate for his son to join him. If I know that man, and I _do_, he'll welcome Draco back with open arms," Snape said in his usual silky drawl, looking at Ron as though he was talking to a three year old.

"And if he doesn't?" Ron challenged and Snape bristled, rolling his tongue around his mouth once before drawing in a calming breath.

"If he doesn't, then they play the role of prisoner. But Granger is incredibly intelligent, she'll have worked out the flaw in Lucius' plan, and she'll have a strategy of her own worked out for when we get you in there. When you are in, we'll have your little ensemble on standby closest to the building ready to ambush if you need it, but we want as little mess as possible-"

"You want us to kill Malfoy and his main men? Well, you're still missing something Snape; what about the other deatheaters? Narcissa said there were more, that he'd have a wide network of workers ready to protect him," Ron said, looking proud of himself for spotting another flaw.

"He did, but what Potter hasn't told anyone, is that he's had his own network of staff taking down the organisation one by one for weeks-"

"Careful Snape, you're about to admit that Potter's clever," Draco teased, snickering when Severus shot him a death glare and looked more forcefully at Ron.

"I noticed a small tattoo on Lucius's foot when I interrogated him the first time round. I was curious about it, so I kept it low key and got Hermione to do some research about it. We're not dealing with deatheaters for the most part. Overall, the web Lucius thinks he has all around the globe are built on a very old, very secretly driven group of people called the 'de multis'. The tattoo is central to their power; the leader holds a lot of it and they draw the magical energy from the amount of followers and members it has. If you can break down the amount of members quietly and painlessly without the central power noticing, you can essentially destroy its inner circle," Harry explained, smiling a little when Draco gave him the 'you're hot when you're deducing' face and biting his bottom lip a little.

"What's the tattoo?" Ron asked and Snape scoffed.

"Really Weasley? Of all the things you could have asked about then, you ask about what the tattoo was?" Snape breathed and Narcissa smirked at him reproachfully as he smirked back, shrugging.

"A very tiny inking of angel wings-"

"Hence the angel comment you made at him when you we're beating him up. He told me about your encounter when I went to see him Potter; you know, you can be rather intelligent when you try," Narcissa said, looking impressed.

"Oh mother, don't inflate his ego further-"

"You can hardly talk-"

"Boys! For god's sake, for two people who are supposed to be linked mind, body and soul, you bicker like you're still enemies" Parvati exclaimed in exasperation, letting her sister begin absently platting her hair.

"Anyway, as Potter was saying, Granger managed to find a way to terminate these 'de multis' members without Lucius feeling it on his tattoo; and Potter's been sending out groups of Aurors to either bring in participants of the cult, or kill them. We've checked, checked and double checked; Lucius doesn't know it, but the people he has holding Hermione in that warehouse are the only pawns he has left and we're going to wipe them off the map," Snape continued to talk.

Ron nodded along but was still looking slightly confused at the end of it.

"How are we supposed to get the upper hand when we're in there as hostages though? Hermione's going to be weak and I'm still recovering; Harry can't do it alone! We're in no fit state for combat," Ron pointed out and Harry nodded in acceptance.

"We _have_ talked about this, and I considered a situation like this weeks ago. Hermione has a piece of enchanted microchip in her head that allows her to link with a designated Auror when she's unconscious. All she has to do is fall asleep, and she can communicate with us; Severus and I have been developing it for months," Harry said with a small twinkle of pride in his eyes.

"Mixing magic with Muggle neurone and microchipping science; rather brilliant actually," Draco said, his hand tucking in the right back pocket of Harry's jeans over his blazer, his chest leaning against his back, chin resting on his shoulder from behind.

"And I shall be expecting at least sixty percent of the credit when you take it to top level criminology department Potter," Snape added sneakily, allowing Narcissa to snake her arm around his waist underneath his black robes.

"Of course Professor," Harry replied sarcastically and Ron looked baffled at the interaction for a second before shaking it off and taking on the serious face again.

"When is this happening?" he asked a little nervously and Draco tensed slightly, his free arm threading around Harry from behind and tightening protectively.

"Tonight"

* * *

><p>"Mr Potter! I've been expecting you. Oh, and Weasley too, we'll have a party," Lucius drawled as he limped in, his cane supporting half his weight whilst Scabior dragged a half conscious Hermione into the room. Harry struggled against an ex-auror named Proudfoot's arms, eyes narrowing with hatred, nausea rising as he saw the cuts on Hermione's face and the bruises on her thighs underneath her ripped jeans.<p>

Her eyes were filled with tears but they glanced up at Draco and she blinked once.

It was the confirmation that the only de multis still alive were the ones in the room.

"Ah, ah, ah; now, now Potter, calm yourself," Lucius teased as he moved closer "surely you were _expecting_ to be caught? Especially when you're dating the son of one of the most notorious deatheaters in the world? I have to say Draco, using your initiative and building up this cover was rather clever," he smiled widely, almost manically, and Harry wanted to growl at him "it seems I was wrong about you. You may make a fine de multis member after all," Lucius grinned at his son, holding him at arm's length, hands on his shoulders.

"You've been getting stronger too; you really have grown up, haven't you?" Lucius said proudly and Harry could see the true emotion in his eyes and felt the repulsion in Draco being pushed down so that he could act appropriately.

"That is what people tend to do as they get older, father," Draco replied with a small smirk and Lucius chuckled, nodding and embracing his son with a sigh of deep relief.

"I must say though, I am extremely glad to have you back on my side... although, I am wondering, what of your mother?" Lucius wondered as he released him, walking to stand in front of Harry, crouching down as his eyes searched his face.

"She's worn out and unstable father. If there's any chance of her being hurt in this, I want her left out of it," Draco said carefully, watching his father observe his boyfriend and wanting nothing more than to kick him away and pummel the living daylights out of him. But they were surviving; waiting for the opportune moment. Soon he would have his reckoning.

"Well, it _is_ a rather dangerous business of course, but then so was the Dark Lord's vendetta, and she got through that one just fine," Lucius said, lifting a long, pale finger and gently brushing the sweaty hair away from Harry's forehead, evil green eyes settling on the fading scar "so much anger," Lucius said in a quiet voice, his face relaxed and curious "it's not healthy you know Potter, that was your problem before; every emotion turned to anger. Let's see how powerful it is, shall we?" Lucius said, nodding up at the person restraining Harry before standing up.

The man kicked Harry full pelt in the back just as he let go of him and he fell forwards, hunching over as he breathed heavily, trying with all his might to push down that monster in him that had beat up Draco almost three years ago on that fateful night. So much work trying to tame that part of him, trying to wipe the red hot anger from his conscience so he wouldn't become something less than human. All the time of building up the friendship and trust and life with the man he loved, and now it seemed as he fought hard against the rage pounding in his head and sweating from his skin; it was all sort of wasted.

'_No it's not, you stupid bastard, fight it_' Draco's voice sounded in his head, cutting through the anger ringing in his brain and he swallowed, working on slowing the shaky pants of air releasing from his lungs to gain some sort of control.

"How does it feel Potter? To fall in love with one of the only people you trust in the world that has always failed you, and have him betray you all over again, hmm? What's it like to know that _none_ of it was real?" Lucius taunted, dropping his cane to the ground and grabbing Harry by the collar, holding him up to Draco's face "what's it like to be tricked all over again?" he whispered.

'_Control it Potter_' Draco said through the link and Harry was met with the incredibly powerful rush of emotion overpowering all anger in his veins; one emotion that had no name and was reserved only for Draco. It was more than love and compassion, more than anything normal. It was something that had been born through the link over three years ago, something that could stop him from losing himself, something that gave him an immense strength – one so powerful that not even magic could compare.

And it was the thing that urged him to act so skilfully when Lucius was taunting him now.

He clenched his jaw, narrowed his eyes and forced himself to look at Draco with all the pain and hatred he could muster. It killed him to watch the way Draco swallowed discreetly and closed his eyes in despair the moment Lucius had turned his back and threw Harry to the ground again. Real or not, it was always painful to watch your best friend and soul mate look at you like that.

"Drink," Lucius demanded from one of his pawns, wiping his own line of sweat from his pale, placid forehead, snatching the glass of water from the Auror that had been previously restraining Harry. Lucius downed it in one, chucking the glass sideways and paying no heed to the way it smashed against Ron's thigh.

"And then there's Weasley!" his attention was suddenly diverted as he threw Harry back to the ground "helpless, pathetic, second best little Ronald Weasley; you just can't get anything right, can you? You worthless, scum of the earth," Lucius spat, shoving his good leg forward and laying it into Ron's ribs.

"You can't even keep a disgusting, prude _mudblood_ in your bed," he said, rolling his head around on his neck, clicking the bones in his spine as he took of his coat, letting it drop to the ground in front of Harry, and rolling up his sleeves.

"Shall I show you what we've been doing to her? You see, entertainments a little scarce around here, and my other members are of dismantling top government organisations around the world, and what not. So making Granger scream has been rather fun, hasn't it boys?" Lucius said sadistically, moving on to Hermione as he trailed a finger from the temple of her skull, along her cheekbone and chin, down her neck and over the sweat stained skin of her collar bone. Then he stopped and grabbed the bottom of her black vest, yanking it up.

Harry's eyes widened as they landed on the jagged gashes across her abdomen and flattened stomach. Her eyes were full of tears as she watched her best friend's expression contort further and his breathing quickened.

"YOU BASTARDS!" Ron screamed, face livid as he tried desperately to spring free from the hold of his captive. Draco was working harder than ever not to murder his father on the spot.

"She wasn't that much fun after a while though; refused to scream you see, and that's never very thrilling, the ones that scream are always the most hilarious," Lucius continued, laughing at Ron's reactions "I feed off chaos, Potter – chaos and strife. But more than anything, I like to hear a mudblood scream for me," he smiled "but there is a point behind all this. You see; you ruined my life. Potter and your meddling, all-bloody-righteous Gryffindors, you ruined me and my name. So now, I'm going to watch you burn. And you were right Potter, you're not an angel, I am," he said, pulling out his wand from his trouser pocket.

"And I suppose you're going to kill me now are you?" Harry said, pulling strength from his muscles and sitting up on his knees, lifting his head to look up at his boyfriend's estranged father, breathing still a little laboured.

"Of course, have you not been listening?" Lucius chuckled and Harry smiled weakly, nodding.

"Well, that's all okay, it's just that if you kill me, you kill your son too"

"What?" Lucius spat, shaking his head as his forehead creased into a frown.

"Well, it's pretty simple, three years ago in our last year at Hogwarts, myself and Draco had a faulty potion spilt over us, linking our mind, body and souls. You hurt one of us, then both of us suffer. I bleed, he bleeds," Harry said, his eyes meeting Draco's for a second as they recalled waking up for the first time and finding out they were bound together; McGonagall had told them something very similar.

Blimey a lot had changed since then.

"You're lying, nothing happened to Draco when I kicked you earlier!" Lucius denied, looking ever so slightly panicked.

"It did; you've probably bruised our spines, but we're very good at hiding it now. So, Lucius Malfoy," Harry said with a small smirk as he pushed himself to his feet, looking his attacker head on in the eyes, green meeting green "are you really willing to murder your son, just to avenge your master?" he asked and just when Lucius was obviously distracted, Harry looked sideways fast and winked at Draco.

Then Harry was grabbing the coat Lucius had dropped and throwing it in Proudfoot's face to break his line of vision, catching a fist aimed towards him and using his free hand to break part of the rib cage.

Hermione, ever the incredibly skilled and strong young woman, had suddenly regained the strength of the warrior the war had trained her to be, and was throwing her foot back into the testicles of her own restraint, whipping around and ignoring the fist that collided with her face, recovering in a split second and shoving her knee up, breaking the man's nose.

Ron already had his own guard pinned to the floor in a slobbering, bleeding, unconscious mess and Draco, keeping his cover, was drawing his wand along with his father, stepping back slightly.

"Kill them," Harry said simply when all three members of the golden trio had their opponents on the ground. Hermione stomped down hard on her attacker's face, the crushing and breaking of it caving in echoed around the room, blood splattering up a little and staining her jeans. Ron wrapped a thick, thuggish arm around his man's neck and snapped it in a second with a single twist. Harry looked down at his own and grinned once, bending over whilst Ron and Hermione covered him from any spells that could be sent their way by Lucius or Draco, and grabbed the man's hand, pulling him to his feet, watching as the man healed his own ribs.

"Good work Proudfoot, I think a promotion is in order," Harry said, patting his colleague on the back as Ron caught a weakened Hermione and lifted her into a bridal carry as she clutched her maimed belly, coughing in pain.

"Bring in back up group 5," Lucius snapped angrily into a device strapped to his wrist, but there was no answer and he growled, repeating the notion.

"There's no point Lucius; they're all dead," Harry said, an almost sad look on his face as though it was actually tragic that such a previously proud, clever and rich man could be reduced to such a desperate, evil state of mind.

"You don't know anything Potter," Lucius shouted, a vein in his pale jaw twitching and Harry shook his head.

"De Multis haven't been in operation in over two days; the last member outside this place was terminated forty eight hours ago and now you're the only one left. You have no real power Malfoy-"

"I've got Draco! I have my son!" Lucius bellowed, the sound deep, frightened and maddened.

"No you don't," Harry sighed "Draco doesn't belong to anyone anymore; he's his own person and if I'm judging his emotions right at the moment, he's really only thinking about all the sex we're going to be having tonight… well, maybe the morning, I'm very tired right now," Harry said and Draco cleared his throat sheepishly, shaking his head.

"Probably not the most appropriate time Potter" Draco pointed out awkwardly and Harry shrugged.

"It's your libido, don't blame me," Harry said as Draco stepped away from his father, standing in front of him and raising his wand to his forehead as Harry disarmed him and caught the wand in mid-air. Lucius's wide eyes looked upwards at the wand pressed against his skin and then along his son's arm, to his face, confused, betrayed and absolutely furious.

"Granger's dead you know, she's a walking dead bitch; I punctured her lung and she's bleeding internally," Lucius said just as Ron made a noise of panic and Harry looked very worried, but could not take his eyes off Draco who was shaking ever so slightly.

"It doesn't change the fact that you're dead _too_," Draco replied.

"I'm fine," Lucius breathed as it dawned on him that his shortness of breath wasn't because of all the action, and Harry laughed bitterly, pointing at Lucius's hand. The blood vessels were turning black, the veins appearing visible on the skin all the way along his arms, travelling up along the lines of his neck and face, eventually reaching his eyes as he began to choke.

"Severus Snape concocted that potion; thank you for being our test subject," Draco said, lowering his wand as he watched his father drop unceremoniously to the ground. The body twitched for a minute or two, and his mouth opened wide but no scream came out; before it went stone cold still.

And Lucius Malfoy moved no more.

* * *

><p>The second the life drained from Lucius, Harry and Draco's vision seemed to go blank and their eyes closed as they both dropped to the floor. Proudfoot managed to catch Draco, but almost gasped when his hand felt for a pulse and found the faintest little thudding of vein against skin.<p>

"Dammit! Weasley, call everyone from outside and get Granger to the hospital. Now Weasley, go!" Proudfoot yelled, snapping Ron out of a shocked trance as he blinked and nodded, getting a tighter hold on a now conscious Hermione and running out through one of the fire exits, calling out for Snape and Narcissa.

The crack of apparation echoed around the room. Seconds later, Severus came sprinting in dressed in a black leather jacket, a black t-shirt and black jeans; but Proudfoot paid no attention to the unusual dress demeanour of the older man, gesturing to Harry on the floor. Snape kneeled down beside Harry and gently took his limp wrist in his hand, also checking the pulse.

"What happened?" he demanded in his firm, silky drawl and Proudfoot shrugged, looking completely at loss to explain the situation properly.

"I don't know! The moment Lucius died, these two just dropped," he struggled to get his words out. Snape growled in irritation, listening to the rhythm of Harry's breathing, checking his vitals before he sat up again, drawing his wand over Harry's body, muttering a long, very complicated latin incantation.

"They're bleeding internally; it looks as though Potter got kicked in the spine, but one of his ribs were snapped and it ruptured his spleen. They need to be taken to the hospital now! Patil, get hold of Kingsley, tell him we need forensics down here now, and someone to take Lucius's body away. Longbottom, Finnigan, Thomas, get your asses over to St Mungos and stay with Granger; Weasley isn't a qualified Auror and you three took the training at least, they need someone experienced taking care of things. Tash, Cissa, start on those bodies. You're both intelligent, you can make the jobs less difficult for the forensics division if they've got less work to do," Snape snapped at everyone, all the instructions he was handing out being carried out the moment the words had left his lips.

"Yes boss," Natasha said with a small, worried look at Harry before rushing over to the bodies of the fallen deatheaters and starting to cast spells to preserve the scene around them so it could be documented later.

* * *

><p>Draco swallowed, thinking bitterly of the irony that he was back in the same ward, same room, listening to the same heart monitoring spell that told him his boyfriend wasn't dead. The emotion tasted like venom and blood on his tongue and pumped unpleasantly through his veins. And once again, he refused to let himself sleep or leave, not even for one minute; because right now, right this second, there was every chance that the beeping would just freeze. And really, it was a damaging thought to know that someone he loved most in the world, had actually died. For a second, Harry Potter had been torn from life.<p>

The saddest kind of sad is when your tears can't even drop and you feel nothing. It's like the world has just ended. You don't cry, you don't hear, you don't see. You just stay. And for a second, the heart dies. He remembered the last twenty-four hours in a blur, and perhaps the terror still wasn't over, perhaps things would continue to be painful for the rest of Draco's life... but it was okay, that was something he could deal with if Harry just continued to breathe.

He swallowed, rubbing his eyes so they watered and the dryness would stop itching for a little while longer.

"Mr Malfoy, has anyone tended to your injuries?" the healer asked him and he shook his head, refusing to look up.

"I'm okay, just a couple of black eyes and a broken nose; it's not even bleeding anymore," he said solidly, not wanting anyone fussing over him whilst he was trying to concentrate on staying awake. Besides, he didn't trust them here, he couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't put him to sleep.

"I strongly suggest you let me fix your nose Mr Malfoy-"

"And I strongly suggest you get the fuck out of my face and concentrate on saving my boyfriend," Draco snapped.

"Mr Malfoy, you were bleeding from your spleen only hours ago and we still don't know why you're not in the same state that Mr Potter is. This link, it's very unique and very unstable, especially when Mr Potter's condition is like this. At least lie down-"

"First of all you impudent moronic dickbag, my name is Draco Black, not Malfoy. Second of all, I am absolutely fine. I'm not going to say it again. And third? Fix _him_," he said through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes dangerously. The healer considered him for a few seconds before nodding.

"We've done everything we can for a moment, he's stable. We have a theory that as a result of Potter receiving the injury first hand, his condition is worse. We don't know for sure though, we're working with uncharted magic here," the healer finally began to explain properly "we _are_ sure however, that if his heart does fail, yours will too. But we're going off the supposition that your secondary injury through the link only is healing so fast because you didn't receive it properly like Mr Potter did. Your father hit a very specific part of the spine. To begin with, we thought it was just the spleen that had been ruptured, but when we did x-rays and MRI scans, we found that a disk in your spine had slipped, part of the cord had been damaged, and cut off motor neurone responses to the brain. We did manage to repair the damage - hence your own speedy recovery – but his brain was starved of oxygen for longer than yours was for some reason, and it's taking him a while longer to wake up. But we are very confident that he will, Mr Black. He _will_ wake up. You and Mr Potter are very lucky to be alive," the healer continued carefully and in a weary voice, looking cautious of Draco and his reactions, whilst also expressing his confusion as to the difference in their conditions despite the link.

"You mean I'm awake and talking because my father didn't directly kick me, he kicked Potter. I just got the secondary force of it," Draco summarised, bowing his head when the healer nodded once. This just made things ten times worse. He could have stepped in. If he'd have just wrapped up the mission before Lucius had kicked Potter, they'd be at home right now asleep, or taking the stress of the last couple of hours out on each other; not in a hospital room with him waiting yet again for his spouse to wake up. But this time it was different, there was no guarantee that he would wake up, that he would ever open his eyes again, no matter how confident the healers were pretending to be.

And that thought broke Draco even more than the fact that he'd killed his own father that night.

He heard the door open again sometime after the healer left but he didn't lift his head, he didn't even move. He felt a thin, slender arm wrap around his shoulders as he was pulled sideways into a warm, female chest. Long, soft, chocolate coloured curls fell over his face slightly from above him and before he knew it, he really was breaking down.

He didn't even know where the sudden shut off on his control had faltered and vanished, but in a second he was sobbing silently into Hermione Granger as she held him tight, her hand cradling the back of his neck, her hands bunching in the hair at the bottom of his head. He'd never been so lost and so vulnerable; he hated it, it frightened him and made his chest hurt with an incredibly crippling intensity. Rough kisses were being pressed to the top of his head and on his hands where they were clutching in the fabric of her jumper.

"Shhh," he heard the soft, shaky sound being uttered by his ear and they were rocking back and forth slow and heavily as he struggled to breathe "it's okay," she whimpered as he felt her body beginning to quiver with cries along with his and this was what they did, him and Granger; they didn't need to talk, they didn't need to share life stories because all of that shit had already been understood without explanation. They didn't need to know the darker things about each other, but they had been drawn together as friends from the moment he had been linked to Harry in their mutual love for the man lying in the bed in front of them.

They could cry like this, hold onto each other for dear life whilst the world crumbled around them. As long as Harry came back to them, as long as they could look at him breathing and living, they would always be there for each other. Respect and love had landed them in this strange, iron clad dynamic that would lock them in place at Harry Potter's bedside until he opened his eyes once more.

* * *

><p>"Merlin, you look awful," Blaise Zabini remarked as he jumped up onto the bench table next to Draco whilst he smoked.<p>

"Hello to you too Blaise," Draco scoffed, groggily breathing in the chemicals and blowing out the excess smoke, pushing his hair back with his free hand and narrowing his eyes against the wind.

"She finally got you away from Potter's bedside then?" Blaise deduced, watching the turmoil, thoughtful, pale face of his childhood friend.

"Obviously," he drawled sarcastically. Blaise nodded, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and wetting his bottom lip with his tongue.

"Granger's quite hot actually isn't she?" Blaise grinned and Draco looked sideways at him, his nose scrunched up, one eyebrow arched as he released a disgusted sigh.

"Dude, really? Granger's like my sister, that's just... no. Anyway, she's way too much for you to handle and I think she's got a thing going on with this Tom kid back in LA" Draco said, rolling his eyes when Blaise shrugged indifferently.

"And? When have 'feelings' ever stopped me before? Besides, I can handle her. Hell, I can handle anything after Pansy," he replied cockily and Draco chuckled slightly, nodding in agreement and taking another drag on the cigarette.

"You, my friend, are absolutely despicable," Draco said, breathing out the last of the smoke and flicking the cigarette to the floor, watching it burn out slowly on the concrete with hardened eyes.

"Still made you laugh though, didn't I?" Blaise pointed out with a small smirk and Draco sighed, nodding again. Blaise's hand clutched Draco's shoulder and squeezed, both of them drawing in a long, deep intake of breath.

"So, it's the real deal then? With you and Potter, you're really in love... with a guy... with Potter... Harry Potter," Blaise asked, raising both his eyebrows as he let go, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes, weren't you watching the last two years?" Draco countered and Blaise nodded.

"Sure. I was sort of hoping it was just a phase though. Dude, don't look at me like that, I didn't mean the gay thing, you know I'm all for pride 'man up for your man friend who likes men' and stuff, but Potter? Really? This is the one person you hated the most for your whole life," Blaise pointed out, using his usual laid back, animated tone. There was never, ever a dull moment when he was talking to Zabini, and he genuinely was grateful to have a fellow Slytherin around that understood him and his background properly, that got all his jokes and took them in the proper manner.

"Well it was kind of hard for me to fuck anyone else seeing as I'm linked to Potter mind, body and soul and all," Draco commented lightly and Blaise tutted at him for missing the point.

"I _mean_… it's just weird, how far we've all come from the war and how crazily fucking fast it's gone. I mean, it's been nearly two years since the festival, since we graduated, and really, we've all changed so much! How did it all even end up like this? It's crazy man, absolutely batshit crazy," Blaise exclaimed in a perplexed, tired, confused way.

"Blaise, I'm not in the mood for contemplating how far we've come when my boyfriend is laid in the hospital behind us and I can feel his pain," Draco pointed out and Blaise swallowed, nodding yet again and looking apologetic.

"Right, sorry, going off track from what I wanted to say originally; do you think that Granger would fuck me?" Blaise asked and Draco started laughing again, shaking his head in typicality of his friend's question.

"Shut up," he chuckled, nudging him roughly, nearly knocking him sideways off the bench.

"Dude, dick move, this is Gibbovacci!" Blaise exclaimed again, brushing off his jacket as he gained his balance, looking innocently offended at Draco's soft, continued laughter at his misfortune.

* * *

><p>"Ron, I'm fine-" Hermione said as he took both her arms and took as much of her weight as he could to help her over the threshold of Harry and Draco's flat.<p>

"No, you're not-"

"Yes, I am and I don't want your help right now!" she snapped, ripping her arms out of his grasp and limping her own way over to the sofa, swallowing water from the bottle in her left hand as she closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them, Ron was still stood by the door way, arms by his side looking upset, confused and lost. She'd seen the look many a time, when he was putting himself on the line to help someone, only to be knocked back. But she knew those waters with Ron, and it was never just help when it came to the two of them.

"Ron, can you sit down for a sec? I want to ask you something," she requested, gesturing for him to sit opposite her on the coffee table so he was close and at eye level, but not too close "Ron, are you still in love with me?" she asked unabashedly, with no real hesitation behind the words. He looked completely gobsmacked as his eyes widened and he shifted a bit where he was sat, his hands beginning to fiddle with each other.

"I... I uhh- I don't- I don't think that's a fair question Hermione, it's only been five months... wow, it's been longer actually, over half a year," he said, realisation dawning on his face as she nodded with a sad smile.

"I've performed fifty gigs since then Ronald," she said sadly "and we shot four concerts for Muggle music television"

"Well I don't know what you want me to say. I made a mistake, a terrible, stupid mistake; but the fact that I cheated on you never ever meant that I don't love you Hermione," he said, completely lost for something true to say. He really wasn't that good with his feelings.

"But do you love me _now_? Because you shouldn't be with anyone if you are. I'm not with Tom just yet because I still have feelings for you," she said gently, sitting forward a little stiffly and taking his hands in hers.

"I don't know. I don't think I'm necessarily in _love_ with you anymore, but I know I'm always going to have a special corner in my heart for you," he struggled "you're my best friend Hermione and I will take whatever I can get from you because I don't really deserve anything," he tried again in a less awkward voice, trying to ignore the annoying urge to kiss her. Of course he still had feelings for her, but he was with Parvati now and he cared about _her_, he wanted to do things right this time.

"But I don't want to be in a relationship with you Hermione," he admitted "it was too much for us, too fast. Harry and Malfoy can handle the whole living together domestic thing because they're _supposed_ to be together, like its fated in the stars and all that shit. I guess _we_ just don't _fit_," he sighed tiredly. It always hurt his head when he was forced to talk about these things.

"I think that makes sense. See?! Being apart from me has helped you! You're already more confident! Parvati seems to be so much better for you than I am," she said with a knowing smile and he frowned.

"How do you know about that?" he asked and she grinned sneakily.

"I'm just observant," she remarked and he raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.

"You spend way too much time with Malfoy. How's Harry doing anyway?" he asked her and she pursed her lips together, shrugging in exhaustion.

"We're still not sure. He hasn't woken up yet but they're still working on fixing his spine or whatever so he's sort of under anaesthetic half the time," she breathed as Ron lifted himself off of the table and landed himself down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close, looking thoughtfully into thin air as she nuzzled her face into his chest.

"And how's Malfoy?" Ron asked and she bit on her lip, preventing her eyes from tearing up.

"Worse than I've ever seen him. I managed to get him to leave Harry's bedside but he just chainsmokes outside whenever he does. I called Blaise and he's supposed to be seeing him this morning. I think that'll make him feel better," she said, closing her eyes.

"I didn't believe it properly until now, but Malfoy really loves Harry, doesn't he?" Ron stated and she nodded with a small, weary smile, her eyes still closed.

"More than any of us could ever, ever know"


	14. Chapter 14

_Harry smiled as he glanced over the book he was reading, his eyes travelling over Draco's relaxed features. The night of Christmas Eve was different to any he had ever experienced._

_The snow was falling silently and thickly on the panes of the windows and the fading embers in the fire place glowed gently, working with the slowly burning out candles to create a dim, yet gentle light. It was cosy in nature but maybe not so healthy for the vision as Harry had only just noticed the headache lodged between his eyes with the lack of proper visibility required for reading._

_Draco's eyelids were closed shut, unmoving and breathtakingly pale even in the warm orange flames illuminating the room. It was a rarity to see such a normally intense face, so peaceful and caught up in the world of dreams, however tormented such apparitions might be. He was hunched on the other side of the sofa, legs curled up to his chest, body turned towards the mantelpiece, hair covering his forehead in blonde, silky disarray. To anyone else, the face would have looked ill, pale, thin and slightly sweaty from the heat of the permanent warming charm that had been placed on their lounge; but to Harry, Draco Malfoy's face whilst he was asleep was possibly the best it ever looked. No pain, no anguish, no efforts to conceal the heart-breaking loneliness within. Just pure and utter sleep._

_And Harry had no idea how on earth he himself wasn't asleep yet; it was eleven thirty at night and there had been silence through the whole of their apartment for the last two hours. But he supposed he was just too wrapped up in the story Hermione had sent him as part of his present. He'd expected the book to be boring, or too clichéd and typical of Muggle high school culture, but somehow Stephen Chbosky had wormed his way into Harry's brain and ran the story of Charlie and his friends through it smoothly, making him feel a fair amount of empathy for the decently written character. He was actually a little saddened by the end of 'Perks of being a Walflower', that there would be no more letters to 'friend'. He'd spent the whole afternoon and night reading it._

_And this Christmas day night, it had been the perfect ending to something that he never thought he'd be able to do; spend the holiday with someone he was head over heels in love with and who loved him back. Even if the conversation had been a little absent, Harry had had something of a normal, enjoyable presence in his mind throughout the story he'd been reading; he'd felt relaxed and able to concentrate properly with Draco's legs laid out against his in the opposite direction, his head resting against the arm on the other side of the sofa._

_Yes, this had been wonderful, calming, festive and yet not too far out of their natural dynamic as a couple, or as two people who had been linked together; which really, had always been the same thing with them._

_God knew that they both certainly deserved it._

Draco woke with a start, his eyes squinting against the bright lights of the St Mungos wards at night. Blinking tightly, he swallowed to wet his throat, slowly sitting up in the uncomfortable chair he'd fallen asleep in yet again. It was then that the dream he'd been having, became properly distinguished in his mind.

The dream had not been his.

His eyes snapped straight to Harry whose eyes were still closed firmly, his arms still tucked tightly in place on either side of his body, hospital standard robe still covering his shoulders, tying at the back of his neck.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Draco sighed, sitting forward, his hand reaching out and taking Harry's, squeezing tightly "what are you doing to me Potter?" he repeated rhetorically, bringing the hand to his mouth with both his own and kissing the upside of it hard, pressing it to his forehead as he closed his eyes against the touch.

* * *

><p>Narcissa Black ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, tasting the bitter tang of whatever she was drinking for a moment, before taking another swig from the glass she was holding. It had been a week since Lucius had died and she hadn't been sober for a day of it.<p>

"Pour me one would you Cissa? I'm rather parched," a silky drawl came from behind her and she jumped, blinking a few times before sighing, grabbing the bottle in front of her and tipping the liquid into another glass as she felt him sit down beside her.

"You shouldn't be drinking," she remarked "you know you can never only have one," she warned with no real conviction as she sat back against the sofa at the same time he did, their arms touching, all the way down to their legs as they both downed the contents of their glasses in one.

"And _you're_ supposed to be a recovering alcoholic; yet here we are," he countered unenthusiastically and she let out a small, bitter laugh of agreement, nodding once.

"I suppose so. What are you drowning in today then Severus? Love? Hate? Anger? Or don't you know?" she asked shamelessly, seeing a tiny smirk gracing one side of his moth out of the corner of her eye.

"None," he said simply "I suppose I'm required on clean up duty; clean up, meaning making sure you don't end up in the hospital bed next to Potter's. I believe you've drank me out of hangover potion again darling, I'm simply expressing my frustration," he replied mockingly and she chuckled, nibbling her bottom lip slightly as his hand slipped into hers on her lap.

"Severus, I don't know why I'm doing this," she sighed suddenly, a serious expression killing the momentary mirth on her face as she looked down at the glass of alcohol in her hand.

"Yes you do," he said with a small, sad smile "you're doing it because you contributed towards the death of your husband last week and your marital bond is taking longer than you thought to disintegrate, am I right? Actually, don't answer that, of course I am, I'm always right," he said his black eyes thoughtful instead of troubled and angry like they normally were.

"The bond takes longer to die in Pureblood arrangements; something to do with the strength of it. They're giving me painkillers for the aches and the nausea but apparently it won't break completely until he's burned or buried," she said, as though she was reading it off a card and he nodded in acceptance and understanding.

"Well, the painkillers are obviously being countered out by the alcohol and it's not going to get any better until you give it up; so I suppose I should confiscate it all and lock you in the basement until you're weaned off it," he said and she laughed again, shaking her head.

"Nonsense, you just want it all for yourself. Besides, an intervention isn't needed; I shan't be drinking again after tonight; I'm told my son is rather cut up at Potter's bedside, I assume a good mother should go and comfort him," she said, turning her head to look at him straight on. He shrugged.

"A _conventional_ mother would comfort her son, not a good one. And if I do say so Cissa, you have never been one for solid traditions, especially not right now," he grinned, wonky teeth showing.

Really, if he was looked at properly, Severus Snape was attractive. Not in the way that was expected of course. His long black hair, sallow skin and big nose wasn't typically nice-looking; but it was striking, and very much endearing when mixed with a surprisingly toned, if skinny physique and charming, slanted smirk. He was brilliant. Possibly the cleverest, most skilled wizard she'd ever met with a partially sane mind and deeply hidden good heart.

He wasn't here for an intervention, he was here for the company, and also because he really did care about her and her family. Lucius's death had affected him too; they had been friends.

But Severus's honesty and openness still had its limits that not even his closest few friends could break through. And he would never, ever admit it when he was upset about something. Not that it wasn't obvious of course. As a spy he could mask his expressions and actions expertly, now he was getting a little rusty and she could read him slightly better. He was hurting too.

"What are you suggesting Severus?" she asked, feigning innocence with the touch of a famous Black family grin.

"I, my dear, am suggesting that we get very, very drunk, sleep together and fight terribly about it in the morning," he replied, leaning forward and clasping the large bottle from the table, taking a long, deep swig from it and handing it to her.

"Sounds like a riveting plan Mr Snape, if I didn't know better I'd say that you've been planning this for a very long time. I didn't think you were the type to take advantage of broken-hearted widows," she said in a pretend, ridiculously surprised voice. He rolled his eyes, grabbing the back of her head and pressing a rough, single kiss to her lips that sped her heart rate up somewhat embarrassingly.

"Broken-hearted my arse," he said sharply and she grinned fully now, throwing the bottle to the floor and kissing him again as he lowered her into a laying position on the sofa.

* * *

><p>"Okay, we're going to run that again in five, the lip syncing is just a little off; take a coffee break people," Brad called from behind one of the camera men and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, panting slightly as she stood from her kneeling position on the floor. Making music videos was hard.<p>

"Tom, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked over the chatter of the cast as they rushed off to get coffee before they ran the cut again.

"Sure," he said with his gorgeous, goofy grin, bouncing over to her.

"Do you want to go out for a meal tonight or something? I don't know, maybe La Glorria? I just feel like I haven't seen you in ages," she said with a soft smile. He nodded enthusiastically but then looked thoughtful for a minute.

"Wait, I think I got kicked out of there when I last flew Joey over here; we might have put a whole tub of pepper powder in one of the soups when we got bored... AJ was _not_ happy," he said, looking sheepish and she raised her eyebrows, chuckling and shaking her head.

"How 'bout Pescados? They're budget, but I love their fish, it's like the awesomest thing in the world," he suggested and she grinned, nodding again.

"Fish sounds cool," she agreed, laughing again when he reached out with his thumbs and pulled up the corners of her mouth in an attempt to get her to smile properly and he winked at her, opening his arms for her as she grabbed him and snuggled her face into his chest.

"Man, I missed you. You've got to call me more when you're in England! And I'm still angry that they didn't tell me when you were in hospital; I feel like they deliberately act like I'm less than them! I'm not, I just don't wave a stick around... well, not your kind of stick anyway," he winked at her again dramatically and she shoved him playfully, rolling her eyes.

"C'mon then; we don't want Brad having a hissy fit, you know what he's like when he's got all the responsibility," he said, throwing his arm over her shoulder and leading her back to the chairs they were filming on, accepting two bottles of water from a crew member.

* * *

><p>Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes to make the itchy blurriness disappear as Draco sat down next to him on the sofa, carefully handing him a cup of hot chocolate.<p>

"Draco Black handing me a drink the Muggle way, I never thought I'd see the day," Harry teased with a small, tired grin. Draco scowled, sitting back as Harry leaned his head sideways into the crook of his neck like normal, closing his eyes softly and drawing a deep, calming breath.

"Shut up, just because you've got the ill card doesn't mean I won't hit you," he replied and Harry smiled fondly, nuzzling his face against Draco's jugular.

"I missed you," he said in a quiet, peaceful voice. Draco would normally have swatted Harry away for being so soppy and Gryffindor-like but he just couldn't bring himself to. He could very well have lost him, and died too in the process, so he figured he was allowed to enjoy his boyfriend's silly sentiments for a while at least.

"That does happen Potter, I am rather awesome," he simply replied, tilting his head back slightly and closing his own eyes.

"Don't think I'm happy that you stopped looking after yourself whilst I was under though, your world doesn't revolve around me, I need to know you're going to be good to yourself if anything ever happens again-"

"It's never going to happen again Potter, I won't let it. I'm telling you that now," he snapped, gesturing for Harry to have some drink and be quiet.

"But-"

"No buts. And don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing had the situation been reversed. I'm fed up of hearing people telling me that I was irrational not leaving your bedside. We _died_ Potter, _you died_. For a second, we fucking died, and I got a taste of what it would be like if we weren't linked together so intimately, what it would be like to be without you, so I think my actions were perfectly justified thank you very much"

Harry sat up, looking at Draco with tears in his eyes, a vein in his jaw pulsing as he frowned painfully. There was a long moment of silence where they just stared at each other before Harry swallowed hard, reaching out his arms and hugging Draco tightly around the middle, bowing his head in his shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut.

"I had no idea that you remembered being dead, I'm so sorry," Harry whispered shakily, tears rolling down his cheeks and latching themselves onto Draco's jumper. Draco didn't say anything else, but Harry felt his arms eventually wrapping around his torso in return and they sat like that for hours, falling asleep locked in a tight embrace, just memorising everything they could have lost.

It was incredibly strange that they had ended up at this point, but Harry honestly could not imagine his life turning out any other way.

* * *

><p>Narcissa swallowed tightly, nodding once as the forensic accepted her confirmation, pulling the sheet back over Lucius' head.<p>

"So this is what it's come to," she breathed "you're lying on a tray dead in front of me again?" she chewed her bottom lip in silence for a little while, a frown creasing her brow "you're a bane on my existence even when you're not alive! Dammit Lucius, I- I was all for killing you- I don't regret helping. But bloody hell I didn't think it would hurt this much," she breathed "you brought this on yourself you know? With your desperate lust for power, and now we're here and you can't even answer back with a snide, conceited comment! And- fuck, I slept with Severus! I _slept_ with him! And I _wanted_ to. You know, I think I might want to again as well? That is messed up, isn't it? You're dead and I'm sleeping with your ex best friend. He's turned himself around now though, best man I know now – apart from our son of course. Draco killed you-" she choked the last line, holding a hand to her mouth as though it would stem the emotion. But it didn't.

She wasn't crying for her dead husband, she was crying for her son who'd had to murder him.

* * *

><p>"Calm down Draco, it's not a big deal!" Harry exclaimed, attempting to pull Draco back and pause him in his rampage.<p>

"Not a big deal? Potter, Snape _slept_ with my _mother_, of course it's a big fucking deal, he's my godfather for Christ sake!" he hissed, eyes narrowed, jaw pulsing in anger. Harry had to take a deep breath to calm himself down for a second actually, seeing as the bond seemed to be much stronger when one of them was physically weak.

It had been a month since Harry had gotten out of St Mungos but he was still having circulation problems and seemed to go tired and limp at random points in the day. He wasn't even really supposed to be out walking past the boundary of Hyde Park, but Draco was determined to beat the shit out of their potions professor so of course, Harry had been forced to follow him and calm him down.

"Will you-"

Harry had begun to protest again, but Draco had already pushed past him and was marching up the school grounds towards the doors to the entrance hall. Harry had to close his eyes and take a few more deep breaths to gather his strength before attempting to run after him.

"Stop it will you? You're being irrational," Harry shouted ahead of him, forcing himself to keep speed walking despite the warning throbbing in his chest.

"If the bastard was fucking _your_ mother, how would _you_ feel?" Draco called back behind him, his voice sharp and cutting. Harry knew this wasn't really due to anger directed at Snape, it was more the stress they'd been under the past two months. Draco had his father's blood on his hands and they had yet to decide what to do with Lucius' dead body lying in a mortuary deep in a locked chamber underneath the ministry.

"Draco, I mean you need to stop because I can't breathe," Harry managed to pant in as much of an audible manner as he could muster, halting to bend, hands supporting him on his knees as he struggled to get his breath back. As he suspected, Draco was immediately at his side, hand on his back, moving him back up to standing point, even more frustratedly checking his vitals. Draco pulled an inhaler out of the pocket of his tailored coat, putting it in Harry's mouth for him to use and stepping back a second. Harry had to swallow quite a few intakes of the steroid in the little metal container before he was okay to talk again.

"Right, you sorted?" Draco snapped and Harry shot him a look of irritation, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

"No," he insisted firmly "I'm not moving from this spot until you've promised me you're not going to do anything stupid," Harry insisted, resisting the urge to stomp his foot.

He could see where Draco was coming from though, Snape had actually been in love with Harry's mum. He wasn't sure if that was the case here, but right now he just couldn't deal with another thing to fret and argue about. Sometimes the irony of their situation really made him want to break into hysterical laughter.

"Potter, I will carry you up there if I have to," Draco said through gritted teeth and Harry felt his own anger building up as well. He narrowed his eyes further, shaking his head.

"You over-exert me and I'll collapse," Harry said, not actually sure whether this fact would make a difference.

"Don't push me Potter," he said, his voice becoming more dangerous.

"I'm not pushing you. Do you see me pushing you? It's more like you pushing me into something that I'm not well enough to deal with. You can be a bastard about it, but you bet your arse that I won't talk to you for weeks," Harry glared, swallowing, disliking the uncomfortable feeling his rise in pulse was creating in his still healing lungs.

"Oh, so you're being cocky now are you? Well what makes you think I need to hear your voice? It's pissing me off now, in fact, not having you talking for a little while might actually be a big fucking blessing," he growled. Harry had to step back for a moment to take in the emotion buzzing through the link; it was very overwhelming and they hadn't been angry with each other like this in quite a while.

"Blessing it might be, asshole, but I'm your sick boyfriend and I'm telling you to leave this be," Harry said, his voice low and firm as he bit his tongue, trying not to say anything that would make this into more of a problem than it already was.

"You can't tell me what to do, just because this stupid fucking bond thing stops us from being able to leave each other doesn't mean I don't get free will!" Draco's tone had risen a few decibels in volume and his hands were subconsciously flexing themselves as though they were holding back from punching Harry very hard in the jaw.

"Well that's mature Malfoy, real adult; hey, how about you march into your godfather's potions lesson and kick the shit out of him in front of all his students? You know he's going to retaliate and he won't be gentle, he'll curse you Malfoy and I don't feel like being slammed against the wall right now-"

Harry was cut off again when suddenly Draco was in his face, staring him straight in the eye.

"Don't," he breathed bitingly, harsh breath fanning over Harry's face. Above, rumbles of thunder had been getting nearer and more frequent and rain was beginning to drop in misty amounts over them "don't call me Malfoy, not you. Don't ever call me that again," he spat, seething.

Harry tried to remember how to breathe, but his lungs were tight and in the place where his rib had pierced his spleen, twangs of pain were sending needle points of shivers through his body. He couldn't think of what to say. He was still angry at Draco, but he had no idea that the name Malfoy was now a trigger for him. Wow, the situation was worse than they'd been ignoring.

"Okay," Harry said, still struggling to pull Oxygen into his blood, his chest heaving as he attempted to get it under control "I'm sorry," he said, the rain increasing as it began dripping down their faces, hair sticking to their scalps "I shouldn't have called you that, it slipped out. But I don't feel so good," Harry said, knowing it was no good for him to keep arguing when he was in this state and they were so out in the open. Suddenly, Draco's eyelids flickered as though he was coming out of his trance and Harry knew that his difficulty respiring had been brought to his attention.

"Dammit, I hate you sometimes. Fine," he huffed "this isn't over," Draco snapped again, still looking furious, but much more concerned now.

"Fuck you," Harry managed to cough out and Draco swallowed hard, his body tensing and then relaxing stiffly as he put Harry's arm around his shoulder and took his weight.

"This isn't going to be pretty, hold your breath," Draco muttered unenthusiastically as he apparated them away.

* * *

><p>"Miss Granger, there's someone on set, they claim they have access"<p>

Hermione frowned, looking up as one of the receptionists came tottering into the choir room in her ridiculously bright heels. She stepped aside and Hermione squealed when Ron moved forward into view. She grinned widely, running up to him and flinging her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as he laughed, picking her up and spinning her around.

"Hey there sport!" he chuckled as she moved back slightly to look at him.

"Blimey you got even taller!" she exclaimed, ruffling his hair. He batted her away, looking her up and down.

"You look crazy healthy," he smiled, picking up a long curl from her newly shiny hair before letting it drop on her shoulder. She had missed Ron a lot in the last month and despite spending hours on the phone to Harry and Draco every day and going on the occasional date with Tom, she felt lonely a lot, like a big space in her life had just been missing.

"Have you spoken to Harry?" Hermione inquired and he nodded, suddenly looking angry "gosh, what now?" she sighed, her back slumping as she sat back on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Malfoy went mad when he found out Snape had been sleeping with Narcissa, dragged Harry up to Hogwarts in the rain. They had a big argument on the Hogwarts grounds, Harry nearly collapsed," Ron explained and Hermione gasped, shaking her head.

"No way! Why that irresponsible little... I tell you when I get my hands on him!" she cursed and Ron scoffed, shifting to get a little more comfortable in the chair.

"Good luck with that one, Harry's not letting anyone near Malfoy until he's calmed himself down, apparently it has something to do with some Daddy issues," Ron said, rolling his eyes. Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip in thought, running a hand through her hair and drawing in a deep, rattily breath.

"Well, Draco did kill his father four weeks ago Ron, that's got to be a little bit head doing," Hermione reasoned, attempting to try and see the situation from Draco's point of view. Either way, he knew all too well that Harry couldn't exactly stay in bed whilst he traipsed off to Hogwarts to give Snape a telling off. Harry wasn't well, his condition would take time to heal and Draco should not have put him in that situation.

"That's not a fucking excuse, Malfoy's supposed to be his boyfriend!" Ron raged, his fists clenching and unclenching without him really realising what he was doing.

"I know there's no excuse, but he's hurting too. We all are; it's been nearly four years, but some things are still unresolved and will remain that way for many years yet," she said gently, quirking her mouth sadly at him. He looked away from her but nodded reluctantly.

"I know, I know, time heals and all that bullshit. Anyway, when do you get off work? I want to take you to dinner before I apparate back to England," he said, changing the subject pointedly. She creased her brow in thought for a second before smiling properly again.

"It's only a half shift today so probably in about an hour," she said, looking at her watch. He grinned at the news, nodding.

"Cool, I'm going to go and get some things in order and I'll come back then, okay?" he said, giving her a quick wink and a kiss to the forehead, standing up and walking towards the entrance.

"Hey, did I just miss Ron? Shame, I actually don't mind him now," Tom said, crouching down behind her seat in the chair and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

"Yeah, we're getting something to eat later before he goes back to visit Harry," she said, instinctively leaning into his touch.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked gently, nuzzling his face against hers.

"Ask me again in a couple of weeks"

* * *

><p>Harry woke to a sharp stabbing feeling in his lungs. Wincing, he sat up, squinting through the darkness of his bedroom to try and make out what was going on. He felt numb apart from the pain in his diaphragm and his fingertips were tingling strangely. He moving his tongue around his mouth, grimacing; it was like sandpaper. The darkness around him felt like a suffocating blanket and he didn't like it at all. Even though the room was fairly big and the space beside him was empty and cold, he felt very claustrophobic and wanted nothing more than to jump out of bed and throw up over the balcony.<p>

He could understand why Ron was pissed at Draco, Harry was too; he'd done something stupid and reckless that could very well have risked both their health. But it wouldn't be the first time, and now Harry had thought about it a little longer, he knew how much of a head fuck it could be when someone who wasn't your father had been intimate with your mother.

Not that Snape had ever got anywhere near Lily in that department of course, but he thought back to that frightening moment when Snape had almost died and had given him the memory that would out the man's feelings for Harry's mother and the reasoning behind his foul behaviour and continued infiltration in Voldemort's inner circle. That had been the biggest shock of Harry's life because suddenly, the person he'd hated all his life, was raw and human and able to love. And Draco was extremely similar to Snape in that sense.

Harry knew he would most likely have reacted in the same sort of way had he been in Draco's shoes, but that's just who he was. He was the aristocratic man who still wasn't completely used to not being able to charge in all wands blazing like that. Especially not now.

But Snape was one of the only remaining solid father figures in Draco's life and Harry would not have let him go into that building even if he had not been as physically drained as he was now.

Harry focused on slowly breathing and ignoring the pain, laying back down on the pillows and closing his eyes, one hand on his bare stomach, the other one playing absent-mindedly with the hem of the silk sheets Draco had insisted on buying. He didn't want to use the link to talk to Draco, it seemed like too much of a walk back to the old days when communication without it had been almost impossible between the two boys; that wasn't a setback he was willing to take. Besides, it was such a small matter and actually, Harry slowly accepted that he might be overreacting just a little bit.

So he forced himself to lay still and let the black of the room wash over him, the rain slamming on the windows outside to rhythm him into a peaceful state, and the slow beating heart of Draco's thudding quietly in his brain to connect them properly once more. When Harry had managed to put himself on the same wavelength, he found that Draco was somewhere in the kitchen and wasn't particularly thinking very hard. He seemed to have calmed down somewhat, save for the tiny spike of anger that pricked Harry's subconscious occasionally.

He didn't do this enough really, just lay in silence and re-connect himself with his boyfriend's emotions. He supposed it wasn't a very common thing to be able to do it, besides, they liked to pretend they were in a normal relationship as much of the time as they could.

After an hour or so of dozing in and out of reality, the mattress space behind him sunk slightly and warmth pressed against his back, arms silently wrapping around his waist from behind. A face buried in the dip between his collar bone and shoulder, white blonde hair tickling his cheekbone. An automatic, subconscious smile crept up the corners of Harry's mouth and despite how early in the morning it was, despite how exhausted he was both emotionally and physically, he would never love anything more than the feeling of Draco's soft, heated skin against his own.

* * *

><p><em>He was stood on top of the astronomy tower, wand in his hand, clutched hard enough to break the skin of his palm, blood dripping blindingly red against his ghostly pale skin. His complexion had never been quite so white, transparent almost, as though he was about to just fade away, like his whole body was about to curl into wispy, choking chaotic patterns of smoke and scatter through the wind, eventually disappearing.<em>

_It was as though every moment up to this point had not actually been real, like it was only just now that he was waking up from a yearlong sleep. He didn't want to do this, he couldn't. All he wanted was to lower his wand, walk up to the side of the balcony and let go. He wanted nothing more than to just slip away. And everything was wrong, everything was hanging by a breaking thread; dying, terrifying and so very, very, very fragile._

_If he did this, his whole world would crumble around him. He would be one of them, he would be a deatheater. That would be his reality. Blood. Screams. Darkness._

_And he knew how early it was now, in a few hours the students would be waking up, dragging themselves out of bed, worriless, free and complaining only of homework and cold weather conditions._

_It's always darkest before the dawn._

_"Draco-"_

_"SHUT UP!" he found himself yelling, the sharp, strained, broken volume of it making him flinch. He closed his eyes tight._

_"I HAVE TO DO THIS!" he shouted and every muscle in his body was shaking now, ribs aching terribly, spine beginning the final stages of cracking with the weight of the devil on his back._

_"I have to do it, I have to kill him- or he's- he's going to kill me!"_

_It was true, he was bound by a threat, but this wasn't just about him anymore. He was working for a demon; and every demon wants his pound of flesh. The night was cold, bitter, harsh and unforgiving and he didn't know why he couldn't just say the words, why he couldn't just fucking do it already._

_DO IT YOU SPINELESS FUCKING BASTARD!_

_His thoughts were squiggly, loud, jumbled, throbbing and stabbing. Black. And dammit, it wasn't possible. Taking a life, draining the force of magic from someone, watching the light leave someone's eyes and seize to exist; that wasn't right. He was only seventeen. _

_SEVENTEEN AND WEAK, PATHETIC, WORTHLESS! No! He sobbed to himself, no, he could do it. He was going to, he'd prepared for it, he'd been planning it for weeks, months, seasons. This was his price, his sacrifice._

_"Draco! Well, well, well; what have we here?"_

_His bones shivered as the cruel voice of his aunt washed over him, clawing at his skin, piercing everywhere. And he was holding onto something. A part of him that knew very well just how bad this was, just how dangerous it was, just how deep in the freezing cold water he was, just how fast he was drowning._

_Humanity?_

_"Do it," she spat and he winced again, not realising how close she'd been to him "c'mon you little shit, do it!" she yelled in his ear, alarms ringing in his head and the warm blood was trickling down his sleeve now, making him sick to the stomach, cold and hot at the same time. Tears fell from his eyes, hand not in the least bit steady as he stared helplessly into the crystal blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore who was so accepting, so calm about his imminent death._

_"Severus!" Bellatrix hissed and Draco remembered how only last week he'd been at odds with him about stealing his glory. My, how the mighty had crashed and burned._

_"Severus, please," the words escaped Dumbledore's lips just as a shocking green light filled the whole room and-_

Draco woke with a jerking start, sitting up fast with a painfully sharp gasp for air. Panting, dripping with sweat and tears, eyes wide open and terrified, Harry squinting and rubbing his eyes, waking in alarm; holy shit they really needed to do something about his mental state.

He shook his head once at Harry who sighed reluctantly, allowing Draco to lie back down, head on his chest, closing his eyes and trying desperately to focus on Harry's heartbeat to calm him.

He never, ever wanted to be in that place ever again.


	15. Chapter 15

"So where is he now then?" Hermione asked Harry as she sat down at the kitchen table with him, accepting the tea he slid across the wood towards her.

"He came home for a few hours last night, but he didn't come to bed. He just smoked on the balcony for a bit and then went back out," Harry sighed "uggh, I hate this; I feel like my skin is constantly itching and my chest hurts," he complained irritably, moving his shoulders around slightly and ruffling his crazy bed hair.

"What the hell is going on with him?" Hermione exclaimed, sighing and shaking her head in exasperation, wrapping her fingers around the mug and taking a long sip of it, closing her eyes for a second as the hot liquid trickled down her throat.

"His father's death is just affecting him more than either of us thought it would. He burned him the other day, took his mother home and then sat in the living room in silence. He's not sleeping for more than three hours at a time. I'm worried," Harry nibbled warily on his lip, not touching the cup of coffee he'd made for himself and fiddling nervously with his fingers.

"Do you remember what you were like after the war Harry?" Hermione asked softly, smiling gently as he looked up at her with sad, tired eyes.

"I know, I'm just – god it's a bit of a mess really, isn't it?"

"He's just grieving for a man he hates, it's very confusing Harry and even more complicated when you consider that Draco is the reason that Lucius is dead," she spoke in her reassuring, clever voice and he knew she was right. It was just a very fucked up situation that they hadn't considered in the variables when plotting to eradicate Lucius Malfoy.

Harry wished so much that he'd just been the one to kill Lucius, Draco wouldn't have to suffer through the perplexity and sadness that he knew he didn't need to feel.

"If he doesn't come back tonight, then go looking for him Harry. Blimey, you've only had this separation serum a few days and it's already causing problems," Hermione frowned, picking up the tiny bottle of potion on the table and playing with it in her hands.

"Just out of curiosity, why'd you take it? I mean, surely you don't want to be away from each other, especially not now," she asked and he blew out an exhausted breath, shrugging his shoulders.

"I just figured he'd want some time by himself," Harry said regretfully, drinking some of his coffee, but not really paying attention to it.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, her eyes widening as she seemed to become extremely panicked within a split second.

"What?" he said, baffled.

"You're bleeding," she choked, pointing at his wrists. His eyes snapped down to them and a very painful attack of dread contracted in his chest, his stomach dropping, heart pounding, head thudding.

"_Shit,_" he cursed, hurriedly standing up and grabbing his wand, attempting to heal the gashes appearing along his wrists and forearms "fuck! Dammit Draco," Harry yelled, wincing at the sharp pain as Hermione conjured bandages and something to stem the blood flow.

"C'mon Hermione, faster," Harry urged and her shaking fingers managed to get it to stabilise before Harry rushed through the living room and down the hallway, stepping into his converses and grabbing Hermione's hand. For a second, he closed his eyes and focused on the far away link to Draco's mind before turning on the spot and apparating faster than he'd ever done before.

"You stupid bastard!" Harry shouted as he ran to Draco who was slumped unconscious against the wall of a bathroom in a café toilet, wrists bleeding out a pool of shocking crimson blood, staining his pale skin.

"Hermione, do something!" Harry sobbed, begging as he wrapped his arms tightly around his boyfriend, shaking violently, coughing up cries as tears rolled down his face in anguish.

"I- I do- I don't know what-" Hermione stuttered, also crying and looking incredibly small and helpless.

"C'mon Draco, please," Harry said through gritted teeth, not bothering to wipe the sticky tears from his cheeks "just go and get a fucking healer," Harry screamed at Hermione in panic biting down hard on his bottom lip now and pushing hair from Draco's forehead, pressing his own tightly against it and squeezing his eyes shut, gasping for breath, wheezing. He could feel the bandages on his own arms rendering useless as it saturated the fabric of his long-sleeved top and soaked through, leaving him covered in both his own, and his boyfriend's blood. He refused to pass out though, this was important, he needed to stay awake until the healer arrived and he knew Draco would be safe.

Briefly, about ten minutes later, he felt himself being pried away from Draco's body thrashing and kicking and screaming to be allowed to see him properly. Hermione helped the healer pulling him back by restraining him so that Harry's arms could be taken a look at. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Hermione's broken face looking down at him with nothing but worry and fear etched upon it.

* * *

><p>Bleeping.<p>

There was a steady, foggy bleeping as though he was under water. And slowly, as the noise got louder and clearer, so did his banging headache; a dull feeling behind his eyes vibrating through his brain.

As he became more aware, he attempted to move his arms, but they were heavy and weak, and he really didn't want to open his eyes. His legs were difficult to move as well but he could move his toes, so he knew there was nothing seriously wrong with him. The bleeping got a little less painful and piercing in his eardrums as his body woke itself up gradually, but he still didn't really make any effort to make it known that he was partly conscious. He felt like he could sleep for days.

Then it flashed at the front of his mind that he didn't know where he was or why he was there and his eyelids snapped open fast. He hissed as the bright light above him hit his pupils and he squinted, hand going faintly to his face to cover the place of pain.

"Harry?" a voice. A voice he vaguely recognised was heard from beside him and a soft, slender hand gently moved his away from his eyes.

"Where?" he asked, not really being able to form a proper sentence as he sat up slowly with help from Hermione who was looking tired and extremely worried.

"Harry, you're in St Mungos. Draco-" Hermione broke off, swallowing tightly and nibbling her bottom lip.

"Shit," Harry cursed, the flash of image from the Cafe bathroom flitting across his memory as he was assisted in settling against his cushions.

"That's an understatement," she sighed, attempting to smile smally at him, but failing terribly. Harry glanced sideways at the bed next to him and saw his boyfriend seemingly fast asleep tucked under the white duvet, dressed, like him, in standard issue hospital robes. He went to move his arm again but winced, eyes going to the tight, clean bandages pinned and sealed around the skin on both wrists that had been cut. There was no blood to be seen anywhere. Funny how hospital wards and gowns and crisp white fabrics and bandages could create the illusion of purity and that everything was being fixed.

Just when they'd assumed that things were on the up, when they'd finally managed to settle into a near-normal dynamic together and their jobs were going okay, and Hermione was with Tom and the band in America and Ron was travelling like he'd always wanted, and Parvati was being the teenager they'd never gotten the chance to be, and Neville was getting on well with Dean in the forensic magical science department. Just when everything seemed to be fitting into place, Lucius had ruined it. Lucius Malfoy had ruined Draco all over again, just like before.

"I've got so much damage control to do," Harry let out a pained sigh, squeezing his eyes shut against the force of the migraine.

"Do you want me to call for some painkillers?" she said and he nodded once.

It seemed some scars would just never be allowed to heal.

* * *

><p>"Are you awake?" Harry whispered through the darkness as he turned on his side towards Draco. A small mumble sounded in reply, but nothing more, not even a tiny movement "I love you," Harry managed to breathe when tears teased his eyes and stung, making it hard to talk properly. No mumble this time, just silence "can I move closer?" There was no reply again, so Harry carefully manoeuvred himself a few inches closer to lay against Draco's bare chest, closing his eyes again at the touch "please don't ever do that again," Harry added to his one-sided conversation with Draco before he pressed a small, tentative kiss to the junction above his collar bones, settling for sleep again.<p>

About ten minutes later, Draco's shaking arms left there resting place behind his head, and wrapped tightly around Harry.

* * *

><p>"Mr Potter, I wasn't expecting you back at work so soon!" Mafalda exclaimed as Harry entered through the double doors to the Auror rooms. He simply spared her a nod and carried on walking, turning the corner to his office.<p>

"Clara, can you get me all the written up notes that have been diverted from my desk to Petersons'?" he said through the monitor to his assistant.

"Of course Sir. Welcome back," Clara's voice replied briefly. He didn't say anything back. Draco was on the other side of the Ministry, but the serum seemed to be slowly moving the link apart, so they could go to work without taking it now, and still be on separate sides of the building.

He wanted a new case, something to get everything off his mind, something that would give him a sense of normality again.

"Sir," Clara smiled softly as she popped her head around the door. He couldn't help smiling back, her friendly, cheery personality was very contagious and he nodded, gesturing for her to come in.

"What have I told you about that Clara, it's Harry; my name is Harry," he said in a gentle scolding tone and she chuckled nervously, looking a little embarrassed.

"Right Sir- sorry, Harry. The notes you asked for," she stumbled and he smiled again gratefully, taking the fat file of parchment away from her and watching her leave with a small wink of dismissal. He was feeling better for being in his office already. He'd missed not having a proper goal or purpose. Not to mention that he hadn't been getting sick pay since the mission to kill Lucius, so he was basically living off the war compensation the Ministry had given him three years back.

He flicked open the brown glossy cover and pulled out the first twenty lots of work, starting off with the first statement from a coroner's report on a rape and murder charge.

"How cheery," Harry muttered to himself, adjusting his glasses on his nose and fanning out all parchment related to the incident.

_'Profile, Mellissa Day Candid._

_30 years of age found slumped against the wall of the alleyway named 'Knockturn'_

_Greek of Ethnicity. Blonde hair, green eyes, pale natural skin tone. 5ft 7inches, 178 pounds in weight.'_

He scanned over the victim's personal details, registering that she was unmarried and not a mother and regarded by work colleagues as 'absorbed and overly committed to her job'. She was a pureblood, but had no earlier history of prejudice despite being loosely connected with the Crabbe family tree. She'd had a boyfriend for three months before she was killed, but had always described the relationship to friends and family as 'a fling' and nothing more.

Harry frowned, chewing the inside of his mouth as he slid out a photo of the scene before it had been processed by forensics. He made a face as though he was resisting the urge to vomit, but forced himself to analyse it nonetheless.

The girl was, in every sense of the word, slumped over against the wall, legs out at awkward angles, blood dried down her thighs. She was wearing a ripped blue work skirt and blazer. Her make-up was running and her lipstick had been smudged where she'd obviously been forcefully kissed by her attacker. He moved onto the official report and scanned it for anything the Aurors covering him might have missed.

"Bruising around neck suggesting being pinned down," he read aloud in a quiet voice, barely opening his mouth "final COD; brain haemorrhage due to head trauma," he breathed, deeming that every aspect of the crime had been accounted for, and putting it back in a pile, going onto the next one.

By lunch, he'd gone through ten cases he'd missed and only one looked specifically neglected in terms of a thorough investigation. He was stood and moving to pull his tweed blazer back around his shoulders when Draco slipped through the door.

"Well good afternoon, nice to see you," Harry teased sarcastically. Draco rolled his eyes and he took it as a sign that work was having a positive effect on him too. Of course, the guy still looked very tired and guilty.

"Granger's insisting that we go up to LA this weekend, so I thought I'd drag you out for dinner tonight. I have too much money gathering up in my bank and it's not healthy," he announced, his voice nonchalant and still quieter than normal, but Draco-like nonetheless.

"By dragging me out to dinner, do you mean that I'm going whether I want to or not?" Harry asked as Draco sat down in his seat behind the desk and flicked his legs up on the oak wood, nodding.

"You're such a charming boyfriend," Harry remarked, arching an eyebrow as he bent down to press a kiss to his mouth quickly.

"Well, if you want me to come out with you tonight, you're going to have to go through these for me while I'm out chasing up something they brushed over whilst I was away; there's too much for me to get done this afternoon, and be 'dragged' out to dinner," Harry said, picking up the shortened pile of parchment he'd been studying, and dropping it in an unenthusiastic Draco's lap.

"I better get a good blow job for this later Potter," Draco sighed, cracking his neck and sitting up, getting started.

"How could I refuse such a charmingly put request?" he drawled, kissing Draco again before crossing the office.

"Don't forget to take the serum if you're leaving the building," Draco called after him and Harry nodded over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him and taking a swig from his personal vile of the orange potion that allowed him to be apart from his boyfriend for a few hours.

* * *

><p>"Yes but it's not about Thor, it's just about the fact that Loki felt alien and betrayed, his father had lied to him his whole life and it just so happened that Thor overshadowed him, he never meant to cause Loki any pain," Malfoy exclaimed as they sat cross-legged on the sofa side by side, eating stir fry and sweet and sour chicken balls and watching The Avengers for the tenth time.<p>

"I suppose, when you say it like that. So really, Loki spent all that time rebelling because he wasn't his father's favourite, he completely missed the fact that he's Thor's favourite," Harry said, realization dawning in his face as Hulk slammed Loki around on the floor, coaxing a small smirk out of Malfoy.

"A statement of analytical quality similar to that of Granger the ultimate fangirl," Malfoy said, a slightly impressed look arching one of his eyebrows.

"Doesn't change the fact that Loki's a snarky git though, does it," Harry said pointedly, playfully poking Malfoy's arm with the tip of his fork as he chewed on an onion ring.

"Ha, ha Potter, you're hilarious," Malfoy countered sarcastically, glaring half-heatedly at him and taking a swig of Coke from his can, returning his attention to the movie.

It had been very difficult the past few weeks, trying to find some sort of routine or rhythm for everything. Draco was still feeling guilty for cutting himself, and Harry, despite knowing full well that it was ultimately Draco's fault, could not find it in himself to be angry. Anyway, both of them being moody and angry would just make things ten times worse. The weekend in LA with Hermione had been nice however, and slowly they were finding their social dynamics again, both as a couple, and as friends to others as well.

It had turned out actually, that Hermione had wanted them over because she'd split up with Tom who she'd found herself drawing apart from. So they'd spent the time in America at the mall and her apartment, shopping, drinking numerous amounts of coffee and watching trashy TV, which Draco had grumbled about and retired to bed fast before EastEnders had started.

But whilst in a Muggle video store a fortnight after that, Harry had seen the newly released Avengers DVD, and bought it for them, a plan for a takeaway and film night taking form in his overworked brain as he remembered that in the early days of their brewing relationship, Draco had made a lot of references to the Marvel films and comics.

"I was meaning to ask, what the hell is wrong with that new secretary of yours? She's really-"

"Oh don't be horrible, Clara's lovely"

"You're only saying that because she fancies you 'Mr Potter'," Draco said, stabbing his stir fry with more enthusiasm than before. Harry smirked.

"And you're only making fun of her because she fancies me," he teased, dodging a fortune cookie Draco proceeded to throw at his head.

"She's all nervous and chatty... like Molly Hooper," Draco pouted, looking irritated.

"I like Molly Hooper, she was good for Sherlock in the end"

"People like her get ignored until they're needed for something. They let themselves get walked all over just to be needed by someone," Draco said off-handily whilst Tony Stark zoomed off to catch some sort of missile and take it up a portal looking-shield thing in the sky.

"You don't know her story; she could have been bullied her whole life Draco, thus the insecurities"

"You're only bullied if you let yourself be bullied," he interjected and Harry had to prevent himself from pointing out that Draco had actually allowed himself to be bullied through his entire childhood by his father.

"I'm just saying, don't say she's weak just because she's nice. Nothing bad ever came from being nice," Harry decided on saying instead, knowing that Lucius was still a very touchy subject.

"You're such a Gryffindor," Draco huffed, drinking from his can again.

"Says the Slytherin," Harry rolled his eyes again, but ending the conversation, knowing it was nearing the end of the film.

* * *

><p>"So are you going to tell me truthfully why we're here then?" Harry said after they'd ordered their food that night, sitting back in his chair with his arms loosely crossed over his chest, a look of contempt and expectation on his face tinted with a slight annoyance and an anger in his eyes that had been there ever since the... incident.<p>

"Do I need a reason Potter? Can you not just enjoy it?" Draco asked with an uncomfortable, irritated sigh, shifting in his chair and clicking his jaw a little.

"There's a reason for everything Draco," Harry said in a low, ambiguous voice "especially when it comes to you," he was done with tiptoeing around him. He'd wanted to enjoy this meal, but it was obvious that Draco was in a fragile mood, which was always best when Harry wanted to get something out of him.

"It's just a bloody meal Potter, you're my boyfriend, I'm allowed-"

"I'm more than your boyfriend Draco, I'm you're best friend, the man you fell in love with... and I'd like to know what happened to the man _I_ fell in love with. Because it looks like he's sat right in front of me, but I can't tell anymore," Harry hissed in a frustrated hushed voice, sitting forward over the table and looking directly into Draco's eyes.

"Oh don't give me your sentimental shit Potter, you know I'm still who I was last year-"

"No you're not, and neither am I. No one we know is the same person as they were last year; but apparently you've changed enough to want to kill us both-"

"Stop interrupting me"

"So explain it to me then!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation, throwing his arms up in the air slightly before letting them slap down heavily on the table between them.

"Talk to me, because I don't understand it Draco, I don't get it"

"You're angry"

"Of course I'm fucking angry, you weren't _awake_ Draco, you didn't see yourself in that shitty little toilet bleeding to death! You were white as a fucking sheet, I thought you were dead dammit, and that meant that I was dying too! And I didn't know why the hell you would want to kill me, what did I do to you? I thought we-" Harry broke of, his voice light and broken up a bit, flopping down back into the frame of his chair again, shoulders dropped, eyes confused and creased in sadness "I thought we were stronger than that," Harry finished his sentence a moment later in a solid voice, watching Draco with a pained look as he struggled profusely to find the words to even begin to explain or apologise.

"I don't know Potter, I- Harry, I just- I don't know. I think I just lost it. I blacked out, I don't remember deciding to do it, I don't remember how I even got the blade! The last thing I can piece together is just... I think I gave up. I almost- god, I don't even know how I did it- I just... forgot about you," he struggled painfully "and- and it _hurts _Potter, okay? Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to tell you how shit I feel? How much I _hate_ myself because once again I forgot the most important thing in my life and how I was just a selfish prick all over again when it came down to it? You wanted me to tell you that I'm still the little shivering bastard of a coward after four years of trying to be otherwise?" he stopped to take a breath, then continued "well there you go, you decide if that's the man you 'fell in love with' because if it is, then you're just as fucking stupid as I am," Draco blurted, stuttering until he'd managed to get the words out, and then sharpening the syllables and sentences when he started to get out the extent of how much he hated himself.

Harry – Harry didn't know what to say. He just didn't have a clue how to respond; because god, it was everything he'd done when they were still at Hogwarts. It was almost identical to what had been going through his mind when he himself had first cut at the start of NEWT year when the war had still been fresh in his mind, when his anger issues had been as monstrous as the demons apparently still infesting Draco's head now.

Slowly, he sat up straighter, drawing in a slow, deep breath and running a hand through his hair, swallowing tightly to try and stem the tears rising in his eyes.

"I remember how angry Hermione was with me when I did this; she probably hated me actually, she couldn't even say anything to me the first couple of days I was in hospital for; she just sat there and stared at me, I've never seen her so furious that she was actually not able to speak. And her anger, it made me feel worse; it made me want to just spontaneously combust and disappear; but- I don't know how to not be angry with you right now Draco, I don't know how I'm supposed to just turn it off and pretend forever that nothing happened," he explained "I love you. Merlin, I love you so much," he breathed "you know how much I love you; but I've been trying to just pretend that things are okay for the last month and it's not working, it's just making things worse, I feel even more angry when I do that," Harry managed to say when he had gathered his thoughts some more, shrugging helplessly "so I- I think I just need you to be strong for the moment, just whilst I work on completely understanding this, and whilst I work on forgiving you. We tried, I tried to act like things were okay; I think we need to sort of get some distance"

"Potter, we're bound mind and soul, remember?"

"Yes well I thought so to," Harry snapped to a taken aback Draco who blinked a couple of times before breathing out and nodding.

"Fine, how do you suggest we do this?"

"I don't know, just sleep in different rooms, not do practically everything together. We could just be flatmates again"

God Harry hurt saying that last sentence; going back to how it was before when they weren't a couple, when they wanted to touch each other all the time and to be together 24/7 but not trusting themselves to do so. That hurt so much in Harry's mind. Draco was one of the only good things left in his life, and he was about to distance himself from him?

It was necessary though, Harry told himself, it was something that had to be done.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Draco breathed, eyes wide, face angry and pained.

"No! God no, I'll never break up with you, you complete idiot!" Harry said quickly, not being able to bare the look on Draco's face.

"I'm just saying that we should take a break from the couply stuff, you know? I think we should just take a bit of time without the sex and the-"

"Do you even realise how clichéd that sounds Potter? I'm going to have to tell people 'we're on a break'," Draco said with a smirk that didn't touch his eyes. But Harry felt a tiny bit of relief that he wasn't making a huge deal about it.

"You want to go home?" Draco said, looking around with raised eyebrows.

"No, I think we can have a meal; you owe me anyway, I paid for the takeaway last week"

"Oh shut up"

* * *

><p>Harry opened the door to his old bedroom, entering as though it was an old library that hadn't been touched in a long time. He took another step forward, eyebrows knitting together as he bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from tearing up. Slowly, he shrugged off his dinner jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, moving to sit on the end of his old four poster bed, back arched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his head.<p>

He drew in a deep, long, rattily breath and swallowed tightly.

Draco was only down the hall taking a shower in his en-suit; but Harry couldn't help feeling more alone than ever.

It was a necessary thing, to be apart for a while until they were in a place where they could be together again. The only problem with it was the link. It hadn't even been three minutes and Harry was already feeling the beginnings of tiny shivers running up his spine, the itching along every inch of his skin, the irritating urge to hide in a corner wrapped in Draco's arms and never move.

He focused hard on shutting out the small waves of angst and sadness flowing through Draco's mind to his own, and pushing it away, locking the window latch in his brain that allowed him access to such feelings and emotions belonging to Draco. This was the first night he'd chosen to sleep alone since he had gotten together with the young blonde, and he couldn't help the tension in his muscles as the rain hammered on the glass outside and he closed his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly.

God things were so fucked up.

* * *

><p>"So you just quit?" Harry asked, eyebrows hitting the top of his head as he sat forward, alarmed.<p>

"Just like that?" Draco asked and Hermione nodded, shrugging and looking between the two.

"Yes. I love the job, I love performing; but it's just been so stressful and I've worked hard on it for two years. I think it's time I did something different now," she said softly.

"Granger, if you're giving up this job because you think it will help you get over Tom, then you're wrong-"

"Draco, I'm not leaving because of Tom – well, he's part of the reason. But it's more than that. I'm just tired and I haven't given myself a break, I went straight into this after I graduated from Hogwarts, I need to travel, I need to see things, I need to explore my life before I set up something I want to do with it," she said, sipping from her coffee.

"Tell me you at least got some sort of closure before you came back to England?" Draco sighed, squinting through one eye at the dull lighting the sky was allowing the café through the windows as it rained endlessly and rubbing his forehead.

"Of course I did," she breathed, not looking at either one of them. They glanced at each other for a second before they both reached out and took a hand each, Draco nudging Hermione's chin with his thumb, making her look up at them.

"I went to the hotel as soon as I'd finished recording my last song in the studio; he hadn't stuck around after for me to say goodbye," she spoke in a quiet, slightly shaky voice.

"And?" Harry encouraged gently, knowing it was a tough subject for her now.

"And he was playing Ritornare," she managed, barely audible. Draco rolled his tongue around his mouth and dropped his shoulders, letting out a sigh of irritation and understanding.

"What's Ritornare?" Harry frowned.

"It's a nine minute piano piece from Ludovico Einaudi's album, I'll play it for you later Potter," Draco said distractedly and Hermione's eyes flickered to his for a moment as an unreadable silent conversation passed between the two, but the look was gone before Harry could even study his best friends and resisted the urge to roll his own eyes.

"I didn't have the heart to interrupt him, the piano is sort of his therapy so I sort of stood and listened until he finished. Turns out he knew I'd been there the whole time. I cried a lot, we didn't say very much; eventually when I had managed to get myself under control, he hugged me and I left"

"That was it?"

"Like hell it was, Tom is a ridiculous romantic, he can't have just left it on that note," Draco scoffed, squeezing her hand discreetly tighter.

"He called me halfway through my flight, told me that I'd done the right thing for myself, that I shouldn't be a stranger... and that he loves me," Hermione said, seemingly forcing herself to keep it together when she made her voice much more solid and normal.

"Well you're going to be alright Granger anyway, despite being incredibly annoying, you're self-reliant and passionate, you'll have an amazing couple of years before you end up trapped by the ministry like me and Potter," Draco smirked, letting go of her hand and lounging back in his chair, swigging his latte.

"Yeah, where are you going first?" Harry asked excitedly, cleverly directing the conversation in a place that wouldn't require Hermione to force herself not to cry.

"Well I thought I'd start with Rome; I always loved it there and I never really spent enough time sightseeing and sampling the culture..."

Draco zoned out as Hermione and Harry chatted animatedly about the different countries she'd be able to visit and he people she'd be able to meet. He knew they were caught up in their discussion, so he allowed himself to watch Potter as he talked, eyes focused and engaged, mouth moving a mile a minute hands moving in time with what he was saying and responding to whatever Hermione was replying with.

It was strange between them now; and even though to the outside world it seemed they were coping well with being apart as a couple, Draco was spending every night soundproofing his room before trashing it in anger and confusion. More than once he'd accidentally let his magic get out of control and smashed his window.

It wasn't that they were spending all this time away from each other – well, as much space as the link allowed anyway, which was normally a couple of floors a corridors between them – it was more the lack of distraction. The worst thing was that now, as Harry had intended, Draco was being forced to face his issues head on. Instead of having sex or eating a meal or just lying in bed wrapped up in Harry now; Draco had nothing to stop his thoughts from drifting to his father and to his mother and to Snape who were all a cause to his emotional breakdown in some way, and because of his insatiable incapability to simply feel pain, he felt despair and fury, which were both very powerful emotions. Ones which Draco had never been able to control; no thanks to his time as a death eater of course.

"Did you finish packing yet?" the question seemed to pull Draco from his daydream and he blinked, focusing in on Hermione for a second.

"Yes, I just have to make sure Crooks is happy in the new cage I bought and then I can apparate to Heathrow tomorrow morning"

"You want us to come with you Granger? See you off?" Draco spoke suddenly, wondering why he'd offered because silly goodbyes like that didn't normally seem appealing to him.

"Uhh – I mean, no. No, I think I've had enough goodbyes for the moment thank you Draco. But I'll definitely call you when I get to the hotel to boast about the five star elements and the hot weather," she grinned, getting over her surprise and winking at him. He could feel Potter's eyes on him as he nodded, smirking in return, not having the proper strength to smile fully; he hadn't been sleeping very much of late.

"Right. Well just make sure you do because you know how iffy muggle planes are lately; suspension designs are nowhere near the quality Kingsley has that new department drawing up. They're thinking about branching off into much more solid forms of transport if it's all successful. They're just looking for funding," Harry informed her. Another thing that was annoying Draco was the fact that it was rare for him to acknowledge he even existed when they were talking to friends or acquaintances.

When they alternated between offices for lunch breaks, it was only because the link was making their muscles and bones cramp up after a whole morning of being apart. And since it had been about a month now since they had last had sex, they were both pretty much horny all the time.

No, Draco cursed himself, stop thinking about sex, he urged. It was almost embarrassing. He felt as though he was being reduced to the hormonal teenager he had been only a couple of years back. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat feeling a familiar jolt at the base of his spine and in his groin as an image of Potter kissing down his chest flashed across his mind's eye.

Harry swallowed tightly, glaring furiously at Draco, sitting forward and crossing his legs under the table. One of the best parts of their relationship had been their frequent and remarkable sex life, the transition between making love at night pretty much all the time, and no one in his bed at all was one that had been quite a shock to the system and they were driving each other crazy, which was straining the link even more.

It was as though they were constantly battling it to see who would snap first.

"Mr Potter, Mr Black, Miss Granger, we're closing soon, we're going to have to ask you to leave," the waitress said suddenly, making Draco jump violently, earning a suspicious and confused look from Hermione who glanced briefly at a flushed Harry before letting recognition and realisation dawn on her face. She bit down hard on her lip to hide her laughter and simply nodded up at the waitress, not trusting herself to say anything.

"Your bill," the waitress laid a piece of paper down on the table and retreated.

"Let's go then," Draco snapped, standing up fast and pulling his wallet out of the back pocket of his tailored trousers, not even looking at the bill and chucking a twenty pound note down on it before grabbing Harry's elbow and gesturing for Hermione to follow him. Fresh air; yes, that was what he needed. No man, you need to get laid. He ignored his own thoughts, shaking his head and stepping out into the rain, releasing Harry's arm because even touching that proved to require a rewardable amount of self-control.

"Well, I think I'm going to go uh- go make the finishing touches to my packing. I'll see you two later," she said, still looking as though something was incredibly hilarious. Draco scowled at her but hugged her back tightly nonetheless, unable to refrain from burying his head in her shoulder and spinning her around softly in his arms when she embraced him.

"Be safe Granger," he muttered, voice muffled by her mass of curly hair slowly being flattened by the rain.

"You too, ugly," she retorted. He had to physically look away when she moved back, looking at him with teary eyes.

Stupid Gryffindors and their stupid emotions.

"Oh man, I'm gonna miss you," Harry sighed, also enveloping her in a bone-crushing grip, pressing a rough kiss to her forehead when she broke away.

"For god sake, it's cold! You're supposed to be lions not pussies," Draco grumbled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers over his tweed fitted blazer, all previous thought gone from his mind as Potter stepped away from Hermione and moved to stand next to him, watching as she smiled at them once more before turning on the spot.

After about four seconds of staring at the floor in the rain, Draco let out a breath of resignation and irritation, wrapping an arm around Harry's neck and boyishly dragging him slowly back down the lane, heading towards Hyde Park.

And suddenly everything seemed a little more different.

* * *

><p>"Mr Weasley, there's been a message at reception for you," a young witch with short, spiky dark purple hair and a slim, slender body approached him at his spot on the beach as he laid back with a cold flannel wetting his forehead.<p>

"Thanks sweetheart," he grinned up at her from his white beach chair, sitting up to take the note from her, winking at her cheeky smirk as her eyes dragged once over his body before she retreated, deliberately swinging her hips as she went.

'_Stop oggling the woman that bought you the note and wrap up your beach party; I want you to meet me in Egypt tonight. Hermione_' he let out a laugh, a big smile stretching across his lips as he nodded, rolling his eyes.

"So bossy," he huffed playfully as if she was there with him, and screwed the note up in his hand, going back to sunbathing. He could get a few more hours in before he had to start packing again.

* * *

><p>"Mr Potter, we have a new case for you," Kingsley said, stepping out of the fireplace in Harry's office. Harry looked up, startled and a little puzzled; it was very rare that big cases were referred to him directly by the minister himself and so immediately he sat up, nodding regally, holding his hand out to offer his employer a seat.<p>

"Minister, with all due respect, are you really deeming me fit for main Auror? I got a report through a couple of weeks back suggesting that I'm 'emotionally compromised'. I took that as more of an order than a suggestion however. I've just been doing paperwork and putting people onto smaller things. It's calmed down a lot since Malfoy's death," Harry informed, frowning.

"Harry, you are head of my Auror department and the best agent I possess; I would let you do this case emotionally compromised or not. On the contrary, things seem to have... hmm... what is the phrase? Started back up! Yes, I suppose I would like to have my highest authorities working with such a situation," Kingsley smiled kindly, looking Harry straight in the eye reassuringly.

"Forgive me Sir, but what situation?" Harry asked, getting more and more worried and excited by the moment. He would not do the job if he didn't love it even if it was heart-breaking and a little too close for comfort sometimes.

"I'm afraid there has been a string of murders starting in the West Country and working up in somewhat of an erratic line. We were unable to find a connection until our contacts with the Irish ministry sprang into action and it spread over to Dublin where the pattern seems to have fitted together. We believe it is the work of some sort of half-human creature; possibly a vampire but we are not sure," Kingsley said in a calm voice, but it was obvious the man was slightly worried and he had a right to be, whether it was muggles or magical folk becoming victims, Vampires were dangerous creatures when not under regularisation control.

"Surely you could have let me know about this sooner Kingsley, I mean I'm head of the freaking Auror office, why wasn't this file sent to me? And why the hell haven't forensics been up to me with a report or anything? Please don't tell me you're leaving it up to the department of law enforcement," Harry said, annoyed and shocked that he wasn't informed. Despite not being at work frequently of late, Harry's job was an extremely important one and if he wasn't being told something, then it wasn't right.

"Calm down Harry, I was on my way to tell you about this about three days ago when I was called into court for a different matter, it has kept be busy so I have been unable to send anyone down here. But I am telling you now because there was another murder last night," Kingsley informed "three young girls all drained of blood; I want you to get over there with Draco and Neville and Dean's team within the hour, the case is yours now I'll have my secretary mail you the details to your- uh... Iphone is it? I don't know, but it's something you'll need on the go so set yourself up for a long few hours," Kingsley said, a serious tone kicking in, eyes still soft, but voice strict and firm.

Not that Harry wasn't still irritated for his lack of information or anything, it was just that the Minister was bloody scary when he was on a mission and Harry was not stupid enough to disobey a direct order.

"Of course Sir; I'll call Draco now," he nodded respectfully, accepting a strong pat on the shoulder from his mentor as he stood to see him out.

"Harry, I'm trusting you with this; do not let me down, you're right, your emotional state has not past regulation tests but I pushed the whole thing through anyway. I really honestly would hate to sack you, son," Kingsley said with the solid, compassionate smile. For a second, Harry had to remember that the man stood in front of him was not just his friend but also his boss, before he nodded again, returning the smile briefly and closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"Dean, set everything up and meet me over at Kensington in an hour, we've got a new one," Harry said urgently down the phone, swiping his jacket from the back of his chair and sending a text to Draco who was on the other side of the ministry. He waited a couple of seconds, timing his apparation with Draco's so they didn't hurt themselves before turning on the spot and disappearing.<p>

* * *

><p>Draco sighed, tightening his coat around him and straightening the collar on his shirt. The material was Czech Republican thick wool, very expensive and tailored, it was Hermione's birthday present to him and he had to admit, a couple of years in the muggle music industry had done wonders to her sense of style. Plus, the fitting drove Potter crazy which he found rather hilarious.<p>

"You called?" Draco drawled when they popped up in Thackeray Street face to face.

"Yeah, new case; vamp serial killing spree. C'mon," Harry said, gesturing Draco to follow him along the road to stand in front of a Hairdressers called Valentino "I know Kingsley says it's a thought out thing and that the vampire is calculating," Harry added, looking up thoughtfully at the brown brick structure above the shop.

"And what do you think Potter?" Draco asked, glancing sideways.

"I think you need to throw that darn coat away," Harry sighed, stepping forward over the pavement and unlocking the door to the stairs of the apartment they were headed for with his wand, moving inside. Draco allowed himself a moment to smirk before letting out a small laugh and following him up the stairs.

An hour later, Dean, Neville and some newly recruited forensics had the whole apartment covered in strange looking gadgets and magical objects marking out evidence points and collecting temperatures in the air and calculating times of entry and exit. Potter was moving about fast, going from room to room before sometimes slowing down to examine a certain part. Draco took the living room where the bodies were.

The three girls were sat upright on the sofa, pale as ghosts, open eyed and unseeing, all completely dead and sucked dry of blood. Draco crouched down athletically, looking in closer at the incisions going all the way around each of their necks.

"Shlongbottom, c'mere and take a look at this a second; what is it?" Draco said, gesturing with a finger for his colleague to join him but not taking his eyes off. Neville wordlessly handed him a pair of transparent gloves and knelt down next to him, also looking over the injury.

"Looks like some sort of slash right through the neck," Neville breathed in concentration and Draco nodded slightly, reaching out and placing a hand on either side of the girl's head.

"You've got photos of these, right? I don't want to fuck with anything"

"Yeah, that's the first thing we did when we got here," Neville said. Draco swallowed tightly, grimacing at what he was about to do, knowing in his mind what it meant if his theory was proved right. Bracing himself, he pulled ever so slightly on the girl's head. It lifted easily from her body, suspended macabre and sickening in his hands.

"Shit," he cursed, placing the head back in its place and turning away from the body, running his hands through his hair stressfully.

"What is it Malf- I mean Black?" Dean asked, interest piqued by the man's reaction to the scene.

"I know who we're dealing with," he said, jaw tight, heart beating a little faster than before.

"Who?" Neville asked, confused.

"A copy cat," Draco said, incredibly pissed off as dread began to set in his gut.

"A copy cat of who though?" Dean demanded, becoming worked up by the lack of pace of information flowing at him.

"Stefan Salvatore," Harry's voice came from where he was suddenly leant against the doorway.

"We've got ourselves a ripper"

* * *

><p>Harry twirled the stake around in his hand as he sat in a single chair in the middle of the room, legs slightly apart, back a little slumped and blazer done up neat and tight around his stomach, outfit untouched and uncreased in comparison to the growling vampire he had strung up against the far wall chained up by metal cuffs coated with vervain, spelled on with a permanent sticking charm.<p>

Agostino Perrella; the vampire who had lost his mind.

It almost looked pitiful actually, to see the guy so helpless and destroyed by his bloodlust and desires and hatred, all rolled into three exemplified, dangerous emotions, all as powerful as each other and all very destructive.

"You going to confess yet or am I still going to have to drive this stake through your chest cavity?" Harry said. He wasn't particularly proud to be doing this to the man; he didn't like having to resort to this; but it couldn't be helped and he only needed a confession. That's all. And then Agostino could be locked in St Mungos until a trial could be set up and they could bring the half form animal rights liaisons down from Russia to talk about the whole shibang.

"Fottuto bastardo feccia inglese, non stai ricevendo merda outta mi," Agostino spat through sharp fangs, eyes red and glaring, skin around them distorted and dark.

"Ascoltare, confessare e sarete messi in una cella, nessuno sta per torturarti vi," Harry replied, figuring Agostino would calm slightly if he was being addressed in his own language. Of course, Harry's Italian was rusty as he had only studied it for a while as a side project when he was fourteen, but he supposed he was doing okay. He could sort of understand what Agostino had said anyway. Something about English scum.

"BULLSHIT!" the man spat and Harry sighed, nodding.

"Fine," he breathed, taking a vile of holy water from his pocket and unstopping it. This was the part he hated, the part where he had to separate himself from his feelings so he didn't end up losing his mind, the inhuman part of the job. Really, in the muggle world, this type of treatment of a prisoner in custody would have him thrown in a cell himself; but in the Ministry, things were different, you were dealing with a higher calibre of human, a much more dangerous prisoner, ones who could kill in much more vile and cruel ways. A little bit of scolding the skin of a vampire with some holy water was nothing compared to what some of the older Aurors did.

When Harry had been put in charge of training his own new batch of younger recruitments he had made sure to remind them that torture and beating were to be used only as a last resort or in special cases when more horrific things had happened and the lives of others were at stake. He pushed out his doubts for a second and flicked the water at the vampire's skin, watching, insides cringing as it steamed and blistered slightly, healing over almost straight away.

"If you're such a good Auror Potter, why don't you just lock me up?"

"I don't have a case to lock you up with if you don't confess"

"I refuse to!"

"But you're guilty, you know you are!" Harry exclaimed, outraged and angry, he didn't want to do this, he didn't want to purposely hurt this man. He had been human once, he had a family... or used to anyway. But he had to, it was necessary. He chucked another lot and the man's face and he yelled out in pain, body clenching up, spazzing out in an attempt to deal with the pain.

"I'll start opening the window if you don't co-operate," Harry threatened. God he hated forcing sunlight on vampires when they hadn't spelled the protection on or weren't wearing the daylight ring, it was always so scary, so damaging to listen to the screams, to watch the skin burn and sizzle.

"Do it!" he drawled in the thick Italian accent, breathing laboured eyes wide. Harry knew that look though, he was close to getting the confession. He just needed to push that little bit further, just a little. He clicked his fingers and the curtains swished open wandlessly, sun streaming full force into the room. Agostino screamed, the pitch almost deafening Harry. He put everything he had into holding back the tears of alarm and closing them again, the skin healing slower this time.

"You want to keep at it all day? Because I don't. But I will. I will if you make me," Harry yelled, feeling the anger flowing through him now. Could this stupid man not see that Harry was trying to save him pain? That he was trying to get him some sort of break despite all the people the man had killed?

He remained quiet and Harry clicked his fingers once more, not prolonging it anymore this time and stopping it the moment Agostino screeched out for him to stop because he was going to speak, because he was going to confess. It was easier than Harry had expected it to be, but then again he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain of such tortures for a vampire, so he couldn't really judge the capacity for pain within such half-human creatures.

"Right, it's recording. Thank you, you'll spend the next couple of weeks in Azkaban until your fate is decided... I'm- I'm sorry," Harry managed, turning on his heal and leaving the room, ready to repeatedly smash his head against a brick wall.

* * *

><p>Draco closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a single shaky breath before stepping into his partner's office, immediately feeling the smirk spreading across his mouth.<p>

"Thank god, I thought you'd been Kingsley, I just finished the paperwork for the ripper case but he's been on my back for the last fortnight for it all. You okay?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes and squinting at Draco as he sat down on the other side of the desk, flicking his legs up on the wood and ignoring the look of disapproving Harry shot him.

"So I'm pretty much ready to pull all my skin off to stop the itching of this fucking link Potter, can I just come out of the doghouse already? I swear I'm feeling better... well, as better as I can be since you fucking abandoned me-"

"I didn't abandon you, I called a break because we weren't-"

"Weren't working, I know Potter, but I'm going mad here," he said, head bowed suddenly. Harry frowned, a tiny smile playing at his lips as he observed Draco struggling to speak his mind.

"Well, we're officially clocked off for the summer holiday now; why don't we go for a walk over to Bickleigh Woods? Hermione has a cottage in Devon, we could stay there for a few days, get away from everything, yeah?" Harry said.

God, things were just so difficult and there was still a lot they had to talk through, but Draco was right, they were going mad staying away from each other like that and he needed to feel him properly again, let him in again. It was just too much to deprive himself of it any longer. For a second, it looked like Draco was going to protest for an unknown reason before he smiled in a tired way, nodding once and standing up, holding out a hand for him to pull him out of his chair.

"We're good, right?" Draco asked, angst still clear in the tense muscles of his forehead. Harry took one more long, deep breath in and nodded, rolling his eyes and threading his arms around his neck.

"Yes, idiot. Now c'mon, I've been locked in this office all day, I want to see daylight, I'm starting to go the same colour as you" Harry teased, moving forward a little more and pressing his lips to Draco's. Wow, he had really, really missed this. More than he had even thought; and before he could stop himself, he'd enveloped his boyfriend in a tight, desperate hug, trying to get closer, unable to have any true distance from them anymore.

"Woah, calm down, we're only going for a walk in the woods," Draco chuckled, voice muffled a little against Harry's shoulder. He had missed this the most, the kind of hugs that were so comfortable, so fitting, so close and warm and tight that it felt as though he was getting some sort of release of tension, like he'd smoked a couple of cigarettes or had a few small glasses of whiskey, the type of hugs only Draco could give him. It sounded really cheesy, but it was true.

* * *

><p>"Mira, stoppit, Daddy doesn't want to have to put you on the naughty step again," Harry said in a warning voice as he sighed, picking snow from his daughter's hair as she frowned at him.<p>

"But Daddy, snow angels are funny," she squeaked, a bug grin forming on her lips. Harry knew he was hopeless to resist, and she knew it very well too.

"You bring it on yourself. She's a kid, of course she's going to try making snow angels, I did it when I was younger too!" Alya tutted, letting her older brother wrap his arms around her from behind.

"Alya's right Dad, she was a bugger to keep from making snow angels, she turned out okay," Corvus smiled, leaning his chin on Alya's shoulder, and raising an eyebrow at Harry's returned look of contempt.

"_Okay_? I get an owl from Minerva every bloody month telling me she's either been hexing a boner on the giant squid, or throwing dungbombs at Snape's portrait again," Draco remarked almost amused, walking from the house and trudging through the snow, lifting Mira high and spinning her in a small circle before hugging her close and playfully bopping her tiny rosy nose.

"You can bloody talk, I hear the stories about when you two where at Hogwarts you know? You were hardly little angels yourselves," Alya grinned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back into her brother's body.

Seventeen years had passed and a lot had changed for Harry and Draco. Three children had altered their lives drastically. They'd had to adopt of course, as they hadn't been able to stop bickering over whose sperm they were using for a surrogacy and they had wanted to make somewhat of a difference to the life of someone. When they had first met Corvus, he'd been insolent, malnourished, cocky and violent; it had been a challenge, Hermione had warned them completely against it, claiming forming a family where all three parties were sufferers of severe PTSD would be incredibly stupid, but they had proved her wrong. Corvus had been nine when they had found him, and in no way emotionally prepared for the endeavours of Hogwarts or any real life in general, so they had spent a good two years trying to deal with slamming doors loud music and angry outbursts from him. But they had managed it, helped him, saved him even and now, at twenty four years old, he was a successful writer and specialised in the mental health department within the ministry, working with child psychology. He was tall, thin and outspoken with a passionate attitude and a weakness for comic books and Sherlock Holmes.

After Corvus, they'd said that they wouldn't adopt another child, but once Corvus had gone to Hogwarts, they hadn't been able to help themselves and with the new DNA science branch being opened by Hermione, had been able to put their seed together in the womb of their carrier Clara Thomas and ended up with Alya who was now halfway through her OWLs and was very much her father's daughter. She was cheeky, rebellious, and very, very clever. With Harry's emerald green eyes, brunette hair and Draco's pale skin and high cheekbones, she was beautiful and frequently sparred with Hermione in spite of having an underlying love for her Aunt. They still had trouble with Alya, but as ever loved her as much as they loved Cor and continued to be proud of her, despite her love of defying rules and conventions. The girl was close to her aging Grandmother and Slytherin to the core.

And then, very recently in fact, they had decided to have Mira who was full of sunshine and giggles and learned faster than Hermione could ever have hoped. Every day the babbling three year old would wobble around on her chubby little legs spouting a new word or spell she had heard from simply sitting around and listening to people, watching them, becoming absorbed in everything going on around her.

This would be the first Christmas where all five of them had been at their home in Scotland as normally either Alya would be stuck at Hogwarts making up study time, or Cor would be in a foreign country dealing with another case study or report on some sort of disorder. It was nice really, to finally get them all together in one place with the snow and the fire and the newly refurbished cottage.

"Don't be mean father, I'm just doing what you never had the guts to," Alya teased, cocking her chin upwards in mock pride. Harry scoffed, glaring at Draco for being so aloof with the matter of their daughter's lack of respect for rules.

"Oh c'mon Potter, don't look at me like that, is there even a rule that exists that you haven't completely disregarded or pissed on?" Draco asked, shooting Alya a look of reproach anyway and waving his wand at the front door of the house, gesturing for his family to follow him as he began along the path that led up to the small village they lived by to watch the fireworks being set off at midnight.

"It's Christmas, can we please not discuss Aly's rebellious tendencies just for one bloody minute please?" Cor sighed, throwing an arm around his sister's shoulders loosely and she nodded her agreement, threading her own around her brother's waist, linking her free one with Harry's.

"Sorry, you're right. So, Mira, you excited for Santa tonight?" Harry grinned at their daughter as he laced his fingers with Draco's free hand, smirking as Draco rolled his eyes but kept quiet nonetheless. Muggle things were still important to Harry, and although Draco enjoyed films and Lisa Jewell still, he wasn't a big fan of the traditions surrounding Christmas or the 'ridiculous belief in a myth of a man who was downright creepy', but allowed Harry to have his fun as usual, knowing how useless it was to argue with such stubbornness.

"Yayayayayay!" she nodded, clapping her hands together.

"How exciting," Draco drawled under his breath, earning himself a hard kick in the back of his leg from Cor "I'm your father, you can't kick me!" he pouted. Cor raised an eyebrow again and let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"I can when you're bah hum bugging your way to Scroogeness," he retorted, letting his slightly tense and tired muscles relax more when Alya leaned her head against his shoulder and tightened her hold on Harry's arm. She didn't show it very much because she was quite stoic with her feelings and mostly communicated through physical gestures, but Alya really loved her family a lot, they were the most precious thing in the world to her, even though they pretty much argued 70% of the time and had a lot of problems. They were a very complicated gene pool with individual issues and two father's whom were ex-enemies and had once hated the ground the other had walked on. It was basic knowledge that they would be dysfunctional, it was practically hereditary, but their journey was one of pain and love and fear and strength, and one she would look at with fond eyes forever.

She would honestly be forever grateful that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had fallen into the confusing and downright stupid trap of love so ridiculously all those years back. With centuries to make more silly mistakes as a group, as a family, as a complete unit; their link, their bond as a couple, magical or not, would carry them through everything that life threw at them and they'd attack it with the strength of the boy who lived, and the boy who made all the wrong decisions, but ended up right where he always needed to be.


End file.
