Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He blinked his eyes open, the harsh light making him wince. With more rapid blinking they adjusted and he found himself inside a hospital wing he had never seen before.

What was going on?

And his head hurt like...well like someone had thrown him against a wall. He reached a hand up, groaning. That sound alerted what he assumed to be a meditwitch to come bustling in.

“Draco! So glad to see you're awake." She offered him a potion of some sort. "Drink this."

Trusting her judgement, he took it and swallowed it, his headache immediately easing.

“How are you feeling?" She asked him.

“Much better, thank you, now that—“ He cut himself off abruptly. What was wrong with his voice? Why was it so.... "What's going on?"

Her face turned worrisome. "Well, Draco. This isn't exactly an easy thing to tell a person but, you've been obliviated." Draco's eyes went wide. He— what? "Now, I know this can be a lot, but not to worry. It didn't seem to be too bad. While we unfortunately believe you will not able to regain the memories you lost, it is a bit spotty and we can't be sure. We believe you should still have your general memories— for example, being at Hogwarts and knowing who people are, things like that— but may be missing some details. Some obliviated patients find a total wipe of the memories while others find it much more touch and go. But, we'll see how it is in the coming days."

Draco was still reeling. What did she mean he had been oblivated? When? By whom? He was at Hogwarts? This didn't make any sense. He was going to have to tell Father and—

His and the wediwitch's attention were both drawn away as the door burst open and three teenagers barreled in, one slung between the other two. Two were in deep maroon, Gryffindor quidditch gear, the other was a girl of the same age. But Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to the one in the center.

He was the most beautiful man Draco had ever seen. His eyes were twisted shut in pain as he put his weight on his friends, clearly having broken an ankle or something of the sort. But when he opened them, Draco was confronted by a green more dazzling than he had ever seen.

The man was crying out in pain as his friends tugged him in. The boy on his left—a redhead with sloppy freckles—looked to the meditwitch. "Pomfrey, he fell off his broom. Again. Trying to pull off some fancy trick, no doubt."

The man in the middle let out a harsh laugh through his pain. "It wasn't a fancy trick, Ron. It's called dodging a bludger. You should try it some time." His friends helped him over to set him in a chair and Madam Pomfrey came over and began fussing over him, all with Draco watching on.

Who was this man? Something familiar prickled in the back of his mind, but he just couldn't place him. Couldn't even remember his name.

It wasn't until Pomfrey had made sure the man was alright—but had told him to stay put for the night that the trio even realized that Draco was there. And the moment they did, it was clear they recognized him.

The redhead—Ron—spotted him first, his hand reaching out to tap the girl on the arm. Their attention caused the third—injured, glorious—man to turn as well.

And things got awkward. It was like all the air had been sucked from the room.

It was the man who had been injured that spoke first. He cleared his throat and addressed Draco. "Hey, uh...how are you?" It was asked tentatively, questioningly. Draco didn't know how to answer, but luckily the mediwitch jumped in for him.

“Draco's doing just fine. He just woke up moments before you popped in."

The man's eyes went wide, but his friends were watching Draco with guarded expressions, Ron’s hand still outstretched seemingly to protect the girl. Why?

“What all does he remember?"

Pomfrey gave him a stern glare that said he shouldn't be interfering but he didn't seem deterred. They both looked to Draco for the answer.

He spoke in the voice that still felt too foreign and new. It was too deep. How old was he? "The last thing I remember is packing for Hogwarts."

“Oh, well, dear," Pomfrey began. "You haven't missed much then. It could have been much worse. You've only missed a handful of months—less than a year, even. In fact—“

“When I was eleven," Draco added.

The room froze.

“Holy shit," one of the trio mumbled, but Draco couldn't be sure which one.

The fear was mounting now and he couldn't stand not knowing any longer. "How old am I?"

Instead of Pomfrey answering it was the man. "Sixteen. You're barely a month older than me."

Ron spoke up next. "You mean you really don't remember anything from the past five/six years?" Draco shook his head.

The man shook his head. "I mean, I knew this happened, but I didn't know it was this bad." He met Draco's eyes. "Are you alright?"

No. The real answer was no. Draco was not alright. His mind was reeling. He didn't know what to make of all of this.

“Do you need anything?"

“Are we..." Draco began. "Are we...friends?"

To Draco's astonishment, Ron burst out in a hearty laugh. Oh. So that was a definite no, then. Who would want to be friends with him? It made sense, really.

“Why would we be friends with you?"

“Hey, Ron. This must be distressing for him. Calm down, would you?"

“Calm down?" Ron turned towards his friend now, his tone changing from lighthearted to a tad angry. "Harry, he's done nothing but insult us for five and a half years. I don't particularly care if he's distressed."

Insulting them? Why would Draco do such a thing? What had he done? What had he said?

“You're freaking him out, Ron. Just stop. Be nice, would you?"

Now Ron was definitely angry. "He's called my girlfriend a mudblood, Harry, so I will not just be nice. He may not remember, but he's still Malfoy."

The way Ron spat his name—like it was a curse word—coupled with the knowledge that Draco would have ever used that slur was too much for him to handle. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Hogwarts were supposed to be the years he had planned on getting away from all of what his father had taught him: been a better person and grown. Instead, he was just like his father. He hadn't gotten better, but worse.

“Ron!" Draco heard Harry yell, joined by a feminine voice saying, "Ronald!" chidingly.

“Ron, you made him cry! He doesn't remember anything since he was eleven. Can't you see how difficult that would be? I don't care how he treated us because that's not what he needs right now."

“I don't care about what he needs."

“Well, I do." Draco peeked out through his fingers at that. Harry was trying to stand, leaning up against the chair arm for support."And you don’t have to be here so you can leave.” And leave Ron did.

Harry turned to the girl, still yelling. “What’s his issue?”

“Harry, sit down. It’s alright.” Harry sat, moreso falling, still grumbling.

Then, his attention turned to Draco and grimaced. “Sorry.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond. He was sitting with tears still streaming down his face, trying to come to terms with who he was.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head and something in Harry’s eyes changed. “Well, then. I’m Harry. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Draco.”

The girl did a double take at Harry, but Draco didn’t know what for. His own mind was busy reeling. “Harry Potter? As in the Harry Potter?”

Harry let out a laugh at that. “I don’t think anyone’s reacted to me like that in a couple of years. It’s interesting, really. But, yes, I suppose. I am the Harry Potter.”

“And I...” Draco could barely get the words out. “I make fun of you?”

Again, Harry laughed. “Well, we didn’t exactly start things out right. But, we don’t need to go over that right now because we’re busy starting again. So. Draco Malfoy, would you like to be friends?” Draco stared into those open green eyes and he knew that even if his mind didn’t remember meeting Harry, his heart did.

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Good because I’m gonna be in the hospital wing all night and I need someone to laugh at my jokes.” Draco gave a little smile at that.

Harry reaches a hand out and lightly hit the girl. “Hermione, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen him truly smile.”

“Well, isn’t that saying something? Considering you stalk him,” she muttered. It was quiet, but Draco still caught it. What did that mean?

His face must have given away that he heard because Harry gave Hermione a scathing look. “I do not,” he said through gritted teeth.

“All I’m saying, Malfoy,” she said, turning to him. “If you need anyone to show you your class schedule, it’s him because he knows it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said.

“Deny it,” she countered.

“Listen, I would bet ten galleons that before he was obliviated, he knew mine. That’s just the way we are with each other.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked out. “Whatever you say,” she muttered as she left the hospital wing.

After the door closed behind her, Harry hopped up and staggered over to the chair closer to Draco. “Anyway, where were we? I feel like of weird because now I know so much about you and you know nothing about me so....What do you want to know?”

Draco didn’t have to think for long. “What position do you play?”

Harry grinned. “Seeker. Youngest seeker in a century, actually. Started as a first year.”

“You did not,” Draco said, eyes wide.

In response, Harry laughed a little bit. “Yeah. Caught the snitch in my mouth first game.”

Draco glanced down at his hands, unsure of himself. Why was such a cute boy that he had apparently previously bullied being so nice to him? “I always wanted to play quidditch.”

“You do.”

Their eyes met. “Really? What position?”

“Seeker.”

“...Am I any good?”

“In fact, you are the only seeker at Hogwarts who’s been able to put up a fight against me. You haven’t ever beaten me, though, so don’t go thinking too highly of yourself,” he joked. Draco laughed a little bit at that.

“Okay, umm,” Draco thought about another question. “Favorite and least favorite class and why.”

“I love defense except not this year and I hate potions. Not as much this year, but I do still hate it. Why? Hmm. Well, Snape is the literal worst, sorry I know he’s your head of house. I just hate him. And he used to teach potions and now he’s teaching my favorite subject, defense, and— Why are you laughing?”

Draco had a hand covering his face as his shoulder shook with silent laughter. “Snape is my godfather.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and he was clearly embarrassed. “No way! Holy shit, I am so sorry,” he laughed.

“No, no it’s fine,” Draco laughed back. “He’s kind of an arse, isn’t he?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “He just hates me cause I look like my dad. Next question.”

“What are the Gryffindor dorms like?”

Eyes lighting up, Harry launched into telling him all about Gryffindor tower. He sounded like he loved it.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about what the Slytherin dorms look like...?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Actually.” Harry paused to burst out laughing. “Okay, so little history lesson. It’s our second year, right? So the chamber of secrets got opened, yeah? And—“

“The chamber of secrets was opened our second year?”

“Yeah, but it was no big deal.” Harry waved it off. “Anyway, then Snape and Lockhart—Oh, right!” He snapped his fingers. “Second year our defense teacher was Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“What? The man who writes outrageous books about things he definitely never did?”

“The very same. Anyway, Snape and Lockhart opened a dueling club and the first meeting— the only meeting— the rest of the school and I kind of figured out I’m a parseltongue so then you started going around being like holy shit Potter’s the heir of Slytherin and there was a basilisk running around the school and all but that’s not the point. The point is that Hermione brewed a polyjuice in the toilets and Ron and I took it and transformed into two of your friends, Crabbe and Goyle, and snuck into the Slytherin common room for some sleuthing.”

Draco blinked. “I’m sorry that was a lot to process. First, you’re a parseltongue? Second, what do you mean there was a basilisk in the school second year? What? Third, a second year brewing a polyjuice? Damn. She sounds smarter than me.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you two are going to be, like Head Boy and Head Girl. You definitely have the best grades in the school.”

Their conversation continued on like this for hours, going back and forth and asking each other questions about life. Getting to know each other like they were just meeting yet laughing like they were old friends.

To Harry, things felt strange. But nice.

It wasn’t long before the conversation lulled a bit. “One more question,” Draco said, his voice low.

“Shoot.”

He didn’t lift his eyes as he spoke. “What kind of person am I?”

Silence hung heavy for a moment.

“Never mind,” Draco rushed. “You don’t have to answer that. Your friend made it quite clear what kind of person I am. I hurt you and—“

“Hey.” Harry reached out and put a hand on top of Draco’s. “We’ve hurt each other. And that can be who we were not who are.”

Draco’s face scrunched up and he turned to look at Harry. “What do you mean you’ve hurt me? I’ve called your friends slurs and—“

“Take off your shirt.”

Blinking, Draco leaned away from Harry, eyes wide as he jerked his hand back. “I beg your pardon?”

Harry sighed. “I’m not coming on to you or anything. Just...unbutton your shirt. Take a look at your chest.”

Confused, Draco’s hands still moved to begin undoing buttons, but he kept an eye on Harry’s face as he did so. He was looking elsewhere, avoiding the eye contact and seeming very interested in the far wall.

Draco let his shirt fall open and took one last breath staring at Harry’s face before looking down, hoping that whatever this was wouldn’t change things.

He let out a sharp gasp, his hands flying up to his mouth. “Wha—How—I—“ He stumbles over his words, not knowing what to say or how to react. There were two thick scars bisecting his chest. They were about half as thick as his finger, white and scraggly against his pale skin. “What?” He sobbed, his fingers coming down to lightly touch them. He felt nothing.

Looking up, he glanced at Harry who was still invested in the far wall, but there were fresh tear tracks on his face. “Harry?” Draco asked, tentatively. “Care to explain?”

Harry buried his face in his hands, sobbing now. “I’m so sorry, Draco. I’m so sorry, I—“

Draco reached to catch one of Harry’s hands in his own but quickly drew it back before it got there. “Tell me what happened.”

Their eyes met. “It’s the result of years of the two of us crossing lines. But,” he wiped his face on his sleeve. “This year was by far the worst. It started out and I kind of was...eavesdropping on you and your friends on the train underneath my invisibility cloak and you realized I was there and you petrified me and then stepped on my face and broke my nose and covered me with the invisibility cloak and left me there, hoping I would get taken all the way back to London.” He sniffed.

“Then, throughout this year, tensions have been getting higher. Not two weeks before your accident did that happen. I was sort of stalking you, as Hermione said, but we can talk about why later. You don’t need to know about that right now. Anyway, I found you in a bathroom and you were crying and talking to one of the ghosts about something and when you saw me we started dueling and you went to crucio me and I used a spell I read scribbled into the margins of my potions book that I didn’t know what it did and it cut you open and—“ Harry was near hyperventilating now as he spoke. “—and you were bleeding everywhere there was blood everywhere and I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to stop it but Snape came in and he healed you but you were left with some pretty bad scars and I’m so sorry, Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Draco blinked. What was he supposed to even say to that?

He reached out a tentative hand, clasping Harry’s in his own. Harry’s head snapped up to meet his eyes, fear reflected in them.

“I’m not necessarily saying I forgive you for this, especially considering I don’t know the full story,” Draco began slowly. “But, I think I like what you said earlier. How about we let this be who we were and not who we are?”

Harry nodded and wiped his other hand across his face. Then, he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Let’s, um....Let’s start again.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “We already did that.”

“Yeah and then I fucked up. Third time’s the charm, right?” Draco had no idea what that meant.

“If it takes you three times to get every charm right, I’d say you need to work on listening.”

Harry laughed lightly. “No, it’s a—It’s a muggle saying. Anyway.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m Harry Potter.”

“I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Want to be friends?”

Draco smiled. “I think I’d like that very much, yes.”

Chapter Text

Draco blinked open his eyes. He took a deep breath.

There was brief feeling of where am I as he stared at the ceiling before he remembered: he was sixteen years and old and attending Hogwarts. He had been obliviated.

Once that all clicked into place, he remembered all of the events of last night. Specifically one:

Harry Potter.

Turning his head, Draco could see the mess of brown hair poking out from under the covers of the bed next to him. It wasn’t too long into their conversation that Madam Pomfrey had popped her head in and told them that Draco needed his rest.

His still couldn’t believe any of this was happening to him. Of course, waking up and finding out you were missing more than five years of you life was quite startling. But everything with Harry was just so....

It was so much more than that.

Because Harry was so cute and, yes, they apparently had a complicated past but Draco didn’t care. His eyes were so green that Draco just couldn’t bring himself to care about any of that.

He was fairly certain he was in love.

Draco shook his head sharply. No. No . He was sixteen years old, not eleven. Claiming to be in love after having one conversation with a person is something that a child does. He was older than that now and he would have to act like it.

But another part of his brain would argue that last night was not the only conversation he had ever had with him. Just because Draco’s brain has trouble remembering Harry doesn’t mean his heart also got amnesia. He could tell from the way it started racing the moment Harry had walked in the door yesterday: he knew. And he suspected he had liked Harry for a lot longer than 12 hours.

That just didn’t quite explain the whole bullying deal.

What was that all about, anyway? Where had he gone wrong? Draco distinctly remembered looking at himself in the mirror and making a promise that he was not going to be his father. He was going to make friends at Hogwarts and be nice. Where had he gone wrong?

And not only had he definitely not followed his plan, he could have potentially ruined the best friendship he could have ever had: Harry. Last night was amazing, the two of them talking. It was unlike anything Draco had ever experienced before. Not to mention that if he had blown his chances with a friendship, any question of anything more than that shouldn’t even be considered.

He turned to be on his side, giving him a better position to watch Harry sleep. It may have been a little bit creepy, but Draco didn’t particularly care at this point. He really liked Harry.

And they were going to be friends.

There was a soft light that was covering what could be seen of Harry’s head: all of his hair in a tangle of brown curls. All of a sudden, Harry shifted in his sleep and the blankets got pulled down, revealing his face. He looked so calm when he slept. And so beautiful.

Harry heaved out a sigh before popping his eyes open, making direct eye contact with Draco immediately. Draco blushed, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious that he had been watching Harry. That would be creepy. But Harry smiled. And, oh, Draco’s heart sang.

“Goodmorning,” Harry whispered, his voice raspy.

“Goodmorning,” Draco replied. He didn’t know what else to say. And the interesting thing was that he was too busy being mesmerized by the green of Harry’s eyes to care.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, but his tone was tentative.

“Same as before. I should be the one asking you that. You fell off a broom yesterday.”

Harry chuckled. “That I did.” With a groan, Harry sat up, his hair sticking out in all directions. Draco couldn’t help but smile: everything about him was so adorable.  

“How long do you have to stay in here?” Harry asked. “Pomfrey tell you?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Well, I probably have to get back to classes for today. Wish I didn’t, though. I really enjoyed talking to you last night.”

So this was it then. Draco’s one chance at friendship was over. Of course he knew Harry would have to leave so soon, but did he have to say it like that? “I enjoyed it too,” Draco said.

“If she makes me leave and go to class, I promise to visit as often as I can. I have a free period, then there’s lunch and I’ll come sit and talk for, like, the entire time before dinner, okay?” Wow. Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Harry really did want to be friends.

“Yeah, okay.” Harry opened his mouth to respond but before he could say anything, Pomfrey entered the room and began shoo-ing Harry out the door. Just before he left Draco’s line of sight, he paused and flashed a dazzling smile.

Was this really Draco’s life right now?

It wasn’t until Harry left that things sort of started to set back in: Draco was sixteen. That was a whole, new adjustment. He couldn’t believe all of the things he had missed. Oh, and there was so much more he wanted to know.

Like, first: did he have friends? Because they would be who he would ask about his life, but he didn’t even know who they were! This was so utterly confusing.

Not to mention—had his father been notified? How long ago had this all happened? Of course, Draco assumed not long but at the same time....What was going on?

After making sure Harry was well on his way to class, Pomfrey came back to Draco.

“I’m sure you have questions,” she said. Draco could only nod. Where would he begin?

“When did this happen?” Was what he decided to start with.

“Two days ago. Including yesterday when you woke up, that is.” Pomfrey smiled at him, clearly trying to be encouraging. “Later today we’ll have in an expert on the obliviation charm come in from St. Mungo’s to have a better look at you, alright?”

Draco nodded, still somewhat in a daze. “How did this happen, exactly?”

“You were in defense against the dark arts. Professor Snape was having the class practice dueling and your partner hit you with an obliviate. I will assure you the student has been reprimanded; they were told not to use spells that would have any lasting effects as the class was only just beginning to work on advanced defensive charms.”

Again, Draco nodded. Okay, so it made sense. Then, an interesting thought struck him. “Do you think I would remember how to cast certain spells? Is it like walking and talking or is like trying to remember a person or a place?”

Pomfrey smiled him. “I’m not quite sure if I could answer that question. This seems to be a powerful case and I’m afraid I’ve never dealt with anything quite like it. You’ll have to ask the expert later today.”

“Could I just try with a wand?”

“I’m afraid not. I don’t particularly feel comfortable having you just try any spell right now. Do you understand?”

As much as Draco was disappointed, yes, he did understand. “Yes, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you, though. One more question? Have my parents been alerted?”

Pomfrey nodded. “An owl was sent not too long after you were brought in. I have to say, though, I do not believe we have received a response.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. No one had sent a Howler yet? No one had been fired yet? That seemed very unlike his father. He wondered what was keeping him so preoccupied.

“Do you have any other questions?”

After thinking on it for a moment, Draco decided there was nothing else that she could answer. “No, but thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll let you know when the expert arrives.” With that, she left him alone.

He only had to sit there for a matter of moments when Draco realized exactly what this meant: he had absolutely nothing to do. He was supposed to just sit here all day? What was this?

“Psst,” came from his side, startling him and causing him to jump up in the air about three damn meters. He looked to his left, however, and saw the space empty.

Just as he had decided that it must have been his imagination, Harry’s head appeared in the middle of the air. What was this? An invisibility cloak?

“Get under here,” Harry whispered before holding out a hand, revealing that yes, this was indeed an invisibility cloak.

Unsure if he should be leaving the hospital wing, Draco got up from the bed anyway and soon found himself pressed up against the body of Harry Potter underneath an invisibility cloak. The small space made things a little uncomfortable—mostly because Draco was sure he was blushing profusely.

“What are you doing?” Draco whispered.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you in a minute,” Harry replied. “Follow my lead.”

Walking while keeping the cloak across both of them was not as difficult as Draco had thought it would be. Then again, he was sure their feet were poking out at times. But, no matter. It wasn’t like anyone caught them.

They slipped out of the hospital wing quietly, Draco following Harry down the walls of Hogwarts. It was quite strange, walking down these halls, because some part of Draco still knew them even if he couldn’t remember ever being in them. It was like an implicit memory—something he couldn’t shake.

Harry took them through winding halls, somehow always knowing when someone was coming, able to press their invisible bodies against the wall before a prefect or a Professor went walking by. At one point Harry almost sneezed, causing the Slytherin prefect—a girl with dark hair—to stop and look around. Luckily, she continued moving down the hall and Harry and Draco were able to laugh quietly about it.

They eventually came to a blank expanse of wall where Harry pulled the cloak off of them. “Okay, walk three times in front of here and think about what activity you would like to do.”

“Why?” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. “Well, I was bored in potions so I figured you must be dying of boredom in the hospital wing. Go ahead,” he nodded.

Confused, Draco did as he was told and a door appeared on the wall. What was this place?

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” Harry told him as he stepped forward, grasping the handle of the door. “Come on. I think it’s best to just show you.” He turned the knob and they entered.

It was wall to wall with books. A large smile spread across Draco’s face as he took in the shelves. If he was being quite honest, he hadn’t really thought of anything in particular while he walked back and forth. He had just thought about how bored he was and that he wanted something to do. Apparently, the room gave that to him.

“Books?” Harry asked. “That’s what you wanted.”

“I love books,” Draco replied, still staring out at the shelves and shelves of volumes. It was beautiful. It was mesmerizing.

Harry shut the door behind him.

“But really,” Draco said, turning to him. “I kind of want to talk.”

“What about?” Harry asked, beginning to stroll around the room.

“I don’t know. I suppose I kind of have questions about nearly everything I encounter. For example, the Slytherin prefect—she was alone. Where’s the other one?”

Harry turned towards him, a smile on his face. “You’re the other Slytherin prefect.”

Draco made a face, faking a gag. “I’m a prefect? How?”

“I told you yesterday: you have some of the best grades in the school. Come on, I thought Slytherins were supposed to be all about ambition. I’d say prefect is ambitious.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re so simple minded, thinking ambition can only be one thing.” Draco too began strolling around the room, his eyes focused on spines. “It’s across all different kinds of topics. Me? It was always Quidditch. I had dreams, aspirations. I suppose I probably changed them when I found out I wasn’t good enough. But, you have to remember that I never wanted to be the best with my grades. I’m not a Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, and you’re saying that I’m stereotyping?” Harry laughed. “Ravenclaws have some of the worst grades! In my experience, they all have one topic that they’re obsessed with. You know what I mean?”

“Harry, do I have any friends?” Draco asked, abruptly changing the topic. He almost wished he hadn’t: they had such a nice mood going. But the question was beginning to nag at him.

“Well, that girl we saw in the halls. Her name’s Pansy Parkinson. I actually thought for a while that you two were dating but I don’t think that’s the case or I feel like she would have been to see you by now.”

Draco stopped walking. “I feel like if we were friends she would have been by to see me by now.”

He could feel Harry moving across the room to him. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I’m sure she just doesn’t know that you’re awake. It’s not common knowledge.”

“Anyway,” Draco said, shaking it off. “We’re not dating. I can tell you that much.”

“How?” Harry asked and the confusion could be heard in his voice.

“I’ve known for a long time that I’m gay. And, there’s a lot I’ve done to make my father happy but even fake dating a girl would never be one. I don’t care how different I’ve turned out to be than what I wanted—I would never do that.”

“Draco, look at me.” Draco turned around, as Harry asked, to face him. “There’s something I should probably tell you. Let’s sit.” He gestured towards two chairs that were sitting between a few shelves. Had those been there?

As the two made their way to sit, Draco’s heart began to beat fast in his chest. What was Harry going to say to him? Would this be the moment that it all ended and he would go back to being friendless?

They sat down across next to other and things were silent for a moment as Harry struggled with how to begin.

“Two years ago, something major happened,” Harry began. “It was at the end of the year.” He took a deep breath and looked Draco in the eyes. “Voldemort came back.”

Draco flinched violently at the name, an instant reaction.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized. “I always forget how people react to me saying his name.”

“No, I—I’ve never reacted like that before. I mean, sure it makes me uncomfortable like everyone else but that....No, nothing like that.” Draco paused. “Why are you telling me this? Is it really serious?”

“Of course it’s serious,” Harry said. “He’s back. That, and....” He trailed off for a moment, as if he didn’t know how to say all that was ahead. “Look, I’ve only had some random theories and I don’t want to put all of them into your head. But, what I can say for sure is that...well, when he came back I was there. I saw the whole thing. Including him summoning his Death Eaters. Draco, your father was among that group.”

It was a lot to take in, but Draco could handle it. When Harry first mentioned that the Dark Lord was back, he supposed he had been expecting it anyway. He knew his father served the Dark Lord in the first war. He could only assume it would be the same if it ever happened again. It made sense.

But what did all of that mean? How had it changed his life? How—

Fear gripped Draco’s heart and his breath began to come in short gasps. Harry reaches out towards him.

“Draco, what is it? Are you alright?”

He blinked and tears ran down his face. “My father, is he—“ Draco couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t hear a yes. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Harry rushed out. “Last I saw he was fully alive, I promise you. Draco, why would you think that?”

He let out a panicked breath, all in a rush. “It’s just, the school sent a letter about what happened and they apparently haven’t even sent a response. I just assumed the worst, I—“ He cut himself off, pressing a hand to his chest.

“He probably didn’t answer the letter because he’s busy with Death Eater business,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, sure that was the case. “I know you think that what he’s doing and has done is atrocious, but he is still my father. I love my family and I would make sacrifices for them. You have to know that.”

Harry swallowed, his face becoming a little more unreadable than it had been. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said, quietly.

What did that mean? Where was Harry going with this?

“You see,” Harry began. “I’m fairly certain that Death Eater headquarters is at Malfoy Manor. That would mean that you have spent two summers with all of them.”

Harry stopped there, clearly not wanting to imply any more. But Draco knew what he was getting at. He didn’t have to be any more clear, did he?

They each held each other’s eyes, both wanting to stay in this moment where neither quite knew for sure. As Harry had said, he only had theories, right? Just theories. They may always be wrong.

But Draco couldn’t sit here and not know.

He wanted to know what kind of person he was, hadn’t he? Well, here was the answer, wasn’t it?

Slowly, he reached his right hand down, pausing for a moment and placing it on his left forearm though the sleeve. Still keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s, he wrapped his fingers around his sleeve cuff and pulled it up.

Chapter Text

There was a pause, then, Draco’s sleeve hovering in the space above his elbow. Harry’s eyes darted down almost immediately and Draco screwed his shut, not even wanting to see Harry’s reaction. He just couldn’t watch. He just couldn’t know.

He felt Harry’s warm hand closing around his right wrist, compelling him to open his eyes. Draco did, meeting Harry’s green ones but still refusing to look down. He couldn’t bear to see that ugly thing marring his skin.

But the pity and sadness in Harry’s eyes told him already what he needed to know.

Tears welled up in his eyes. No, he couldn’t—how could he have—no. Biting his lip, He screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do it. Just—no.

“Draco...” Harry began but Draco held out his hand to stop him. He didn’t need him to say anything right now. It was all crashing down.

This was all so unfair! He wakes up, finds out that he is a terrible person with extensive memory loss and then it just gets worse. It was like he got worse in such a small period of time. Like it had happened so quickly and he couldn’t even review the circumstances in which he had become the worst person he knew.

Standing up, Draco knew one thing: he needed to look at himself in a mirror. He needed to know who he was.

Turning to his right, a mirror had already appeared on the wall. Crossing behind his chair, he walked up to it, staring himself in the face.

He looked the same. Mostly. For the most part. He supposed. Natural signs of age were evident: a more defined facial structure, his hair was slightly different. But that wasn’t the part that made him pause.

Reaching up, Draco touched his face. He looked partly like a ghost, his skin was so pale. Around his eyes were dark bags. He shuddered to think he had let himself get this way. But, he supposed that being a Death Eater would do that to a person. The constant stress of being found out, being under Voldemort’s gaze.

Still unable to look down to see the Dark Mark marring his skin, he turned back to look at Harry who was sitting with his elbows on his knees, hunched over.

“Help me,” Draco pleaded. “Please. You have to help me.”

Immediately, Harry stood and walked to Draco, hands outstretched. Seeing that Draco was clearly beginning to panic, he placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, looking into Draco’s eyes. “You need to calm down.”

But Draco was sucking in shallow breaths right after one another. He had no visual memory of seeing the Dark Lord, but the rest of him did. Something visceral that brought up this panic inside of him that he never knew existed.

“Draco, listen to my voice,” Harry said. “It’s okay. Things are going to be fine. I am going to do what I can to help you and—“

Gasping, Draco’s eyes widened and it was like a searing pain erupted in his mind. Harry stepped back from him abruptly, hands held out like he had somehow caused it.

Pausing now, Draco stared off into the distance in his state of utter terror. Harry remained where he was, giving Draco space.

But then, Draco blinked, releasing a single tear to roll down his face. Quietly, he spoke, his voice raw. “It’s not just me that needs help. It’s my family. He threatened my family.”

“But, Draco, how—“

Not meeting Harry’s eyes, Draco cut him off. “I remember. I remember him threatening my mother.” It was true. He didn’t know where the memory had come from, but it was playing out in front of him so clearly; he couldn’t deny it.

“Draco....” Harry began, slowly. “That’s...well, it’s impossible. You don’t get memories back from an obliviate.”

“You think I don’t know that, Potter?” Draco snapped. “I’m not stupid.” At the look on Harry’s face, Draco paused, mentally reviewing what he had just said. Slowly, he met Harry’s eyes. “What was that?”

“Sounded a lot like how we usually talk. But, let’s go back. You remember him threatening your mother?”

Nodding, Draco recalled the memory again. “The circumstances aren’t clear right now. It’s like something just—“ He snapped. “—brought that up but I can’t get what immediately surrounded it. He was telling me to do something and was pointing his wand at my mother and threatening to kill her if I didn’t. I don’t know what it was, though. And I think that’s the scariest part of this all. He could have made me do anything and I would have done it.”

Again, Harry’s hands came to Draco’s shoulders. “Hey. Don’t think like that. There’s no point.”

“Harry, I have no idea who I am or what I have done.”

Now, Harry’s hands moved upwards, grabbing at the sides of Draco’s face, all while staring intensely in his eyes. “You’re Draco Malfoy. You’re a bit of a git, but you’re not evil. What you’ve done because he told you to is not important. It doesn’t define you.”

When Harry finished his impromptu little speech, both of them quickly realized exactly how they were standing and Harry pulled back quickly, clearing his throat in the awkwardness. Both avoided each other’s eyes for a moment, not really sure what to say or do about that. Draco was sure that there was a blush rising on his cheeks.

“What time is it?” Draco asked, suddenly.

“Why?” Harry asked, looking back to Draco now, but there was no need. A clock had already appeared on the wall behind them.

“Shit,” Draco cursed. “Three hours have passed. What the fuck? I have to get back to the hospital wing. There’s supposed to be an obliviation expert from St. Mungo’s coming today and I hope I haven’t...missed...” Draco trailed off as he turned, looking until he spotted the door and running to it, flinging it open. His entire focus of coming here was to get answers but the expert could potentially give him more answers than Harry Potter.

Harry was close behind him, slipping through the door just before it closed behind Draco. It promptly vanished behind him, but Draco had no time to pay that any mind. Quickly, Harry ran to Draco’s side and threw the invisibility cloak around both their shoulders as they sped down the hallways, Harry tugging on Draco’s arm to guide him back the right way to the hospital wing.

Within minutes, they were creaking open the door and slipping Draco back into bed.

“ I should...” Harry’s voice began from somewhere to the side of Draco’s bed. “I should go. I’ll come visit you later,” he promised.

Draco nodded in response, uncertain to whether Harry was still even there to see it or if he had already turned to walk away. He could only hope that he hadn’t been discovered by Pomfrey.

It was barely a few minutes before she wandered over to him, clearly surprised at seeing him. “You’re awake,” she remarked. “I’m so sorry for this morning, Draco, but that student got a nasty burn in potions that I had to work out. Well, I just wanted to come and give you a heads up, as I’m fairly certain the expert from St. Mungo’s should be on her way.”

As she turned, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. So she didn’t know he had snuck out and he hadn’t missed the expert. Thank Merlin. He would have killed Harry if either of those things had happened.

It turned out that he didn’t end up waiting long. Not too long later, he had heard the telltale sound of a floo from somewhere outside of his vision, followed by chatter between what was clearly Madam Pomfrey and someone else. The sounds grew closer and Draco found himself staring into the eyes of a startling witch.

Her eyes were dark and piercing, and Draco felt like looking into them made him want to squirm. Something about them was so intense and Draco felt compelled to look away.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, her deep voice ringing in the air. “My name is Ms. Topfeld. I understand you have been obliviated and have lost all memory from the past five to six years. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Draco nodded.

Next, she turned to Pomfrey and began peppering her with questions about the incident. They seemed to come in rapid fire and Ms. Topfeld didn’t take notes.

Abruptly, she turned back to Draco. “You’ve been awake for how long?”

“Around 24 hours,” Draco responded.

“Have you had any memories come back to you since then?”

Here was Draco’s chance to get answers. “Yes. One.”

“What was it?” Ms. Topfeld asked, again looking him directly in the eyes. Draco jerked, avoiding her gaze. Something told him to do so.

“The memory is fairly private,” was all he said.

“Mr. Malfoy, to help me understand if you’ll be getting more pieces of memories, I have to understand about how you got this one and what it was about. Or do you not want to know?”

Still avoiding those piercing eyes, Draco responded. “The memory was triggered by a conversation I was having. It was involved my mother and the conversation began to steer her way and I remembered it. It was also a memory with a severe emotional attachment, as I was very distressed in the creating of it. It seemed to come from the past year or two. Is there any other information you might need, Ms. Topfeld?”

A dense pause hung in the air. “Mr. Malfoy, please look into my eyes.”

Draco refused. He didn’t know why, but there were alarm bells ringing throughout his brain, telling him that that would not be a good idea. But he couldn’t place his finger on why.

“Mr. Malfoy, if you refuse to cooperate, I’m afraid I cannot help you.” She paused. “Please look into my eyes.”

“Why?” Draco blurted out.

“I need to search your mind with ligilimency. It’s the only way I can truly know the extent of the obliviation.”

Something in Draco had tightened at the word ligilimens. A cold fear began to grip his heart, making it’s way up his throat to freeze anything he could possibly say. No. No, he would not have anyone in his mind. That was—

In his panic, his eyes had begun to wander and they caught Ms. Topfeld’s for a brief moment. She jumped on the opportunity, quietly muttering, “Ligilimens,” before Draco was able to even react.

He felt her beginning to push into his mind and his arms came up as if to fight to her off. But what could he do? He had no idea how to defend from her invasion. All he knew was that he wanted her out.

Draco heard a cry as the world righted itself, his consciousness coming back into the hospital wing. Ms. Topfeld has crashed onto the floor and was staggering to her feet, holding her forehead. She glared at him angrily.

“Mr. Malfoy, I was not aware that you were so skilled at Occlumency. Please refrain from using such a skill this next time so I may assess the damage of the obliviation. Ligili—“

“No,” Draco interrupted. “Ms. Topfeld, I understand that this would be the only way to assess the damage. But I am not having anyone in my mind. If you attempt a ligilimens again, I will throw you out again and I expect more violently this time. If that’s the only way you can assess the damage, then so be it, I will just have to not know. You are not going into my mind, do you understand me, Ms. Topfeld? Thank you greatly for your coming all the way out here, but if you can do nothing else then you should be on your way, yes?”

Silence hung heavy in the room as both women at the foot of the bed stared at him in incredulity. Eventually, however, Ms. Topfeld righted herself and straightened her jacket. Without a word, she turned and headed back in the direction of the floo. Ms. Pomfrey shot him a bit of a glare before running off after her.

Draco sat back against the pillows now that he was alone, terrified at what he had just done. Did he know occlumency? Where had he learned that? It would explain why he had such a reaction to someone being in his mind if he had had someone in there before. The only question was...who? Draco shuddered to think that it could have been him. If that was the case, then Draco never wanted to know.

It would also explain why he knew something was strange about her eyes; he knew to avoid them. A ligiliemens requires eye contact and something in Draco had picked up on that.

He supposed it was a downside that now he wouldn’t be able to get any answers. They would all continue on having no idea how bad the damage to his brain was and if he would continue getting memories back, or only certain memories, or a thousand other things Ms. Topfeld could have told him. But, regardless of all of that, he was glad that he hadn’t allowed her in his mind.

His mind was his, dammit. And apparently he knew what it felt like to let that get away from him.

It wasn’t another memory, not exactly, but he knew the feeling of having someone poke around in his brain. He didn’t know how, but it was there, like a finger coated in slime just shoving it’s own brutal way through, with no care for how wrecked it would leave Draco. The reaction of his body, of his emotions was all Draco had to go on and it was enough that he was sure glad he knew occlumency.

Now, Madam Pomfrey appeared again, a stern look ready for Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, that women was an expert at her job and potentially the only person that could help you. Why you would refuse treatment is beyond me. I must also say that your behavior to her was quite rude. But,” she uncrossed her arms, her expression softening. “I understand that a ligilimens is an invasive spell and all patients have the right to refuse treatment. In fact, you were refusing it the first time and her catching you off guard with it was, quite frankly, unprofessional and unethical. So, I am giving you the option of writing to her superiors at St. Mungo’s to report her for such behavior. If you weren’t such a skilled occlumens, she would have invaded your mind without your consent and that is highly unethical.” Madam Pomfrey paused. “I suggest you write. I will sign off on it if you choose to do so, but ultimately it simply an option proposed to you. Now, after that ordeal, I suggest you get some rest.”

Without waiting for his response, Pomfrey turned and left him alone with his thoughts. While it was very kind of her to give him the option of writing to St. Mungo’s about the whole thing, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted the business about him being an occlumens to be put down on paper. Something told him it was definitely a secret. He supposed he could ask Harry later what he thinks he should do.

That thought brought him back around. Harry.

Would he stop by later? Would he talk to anyone about what was happening with Draco’s family? Would he be able to help Draco?

His family was another thing, wasn’t it? There was still no response from his parents about the news of his obliviation. Personally, Draco thought it was a tad important and, well, jarring to say the least. But it seemed that his parents had nothing to say on the matter. It all brought Draco back to the point that he had questioned Harry on earlier:

Were his parents dead?

Being busy with Death Eater business was one thing, but for this long? To not respond to an emergency, a crisis? Did they not care?

Draco shook the thought of their death away from him. If he lingered on it, he just may go insane. There was always the possibility that the letter had gotten intercepted or, less likely, lost. Of course. That had to be it.

But even thinking about the manor set a cold feeling in his bones; there was this need he had to never go back there. It was so strange to have these feelings but never be knowing where they were coming from.

Sighing, Draco placed his head in his hands. He was so fucking lost. He didn’t know anything. And it wasn’t like he even knew who to ask to get answers.

Sitting up straight, he decided he would try and send a letter to his mother. The one from the school would most likely have been addressed to his father: everyone knew that if anything happened to a Malfoy, Lucius was going to come for them, so the letter had likely explained the situation and pleaded for forgiveness. But his mother would likely be the one to respond.

He cast a quick glance around before getting out of bed and starting to creep over to the door. He would just have to sneak off to the owlery and—

Stumped, Draco stopped where he stood. He didn’t know where the damn owlery was. Trudging back over to the bed, he was quickly reminded just how helpless he was in his current situation. Fuck, he wasn’t even allowed to have his wand.

Sitting back down, he folded his hands in his lap. He supposed he would just have to wait because he couldn’t do fucking anything and it was the most frustrating thing to ever happen to him.

It was then that the door creeped open and a familiar face slipped in, coming to Draco’s side with a blinding smile. Harry was back.

Chapter Text

He and Harry ended up once more talking for ages about all of the topics they could think of talking about. It was over an hour later that the door opened and two other people snuck into the hospital wing, Draco and Harry’s happy moment coming to an abrupt end.

It was Hermione and Ron.

Of course, Hermione wasn’t the problem. Rather, it was Ron’s presence that caused the smile to drop off of Draco’s face. It just reminded him of all of the bad things he had done. He couldn’t escape them, could he? They would chase him for the rest of his life, little ghosts that he had never met.

Harry, however, stopped laughing for an entirely different reason, the air between him and Ron growing strangely tense until Hermione nudged Ron.

“Harry, can I talk to you in the hall, please?” Ron asked.

“No. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of Draco.”

At this, Ron’s face turned from what was clearly trying to be polite to downright rage. “Are your fucking serious? We’ve been best friends for years and you’re suddenly taking someone else’s side? Harry, this isn’t even about Malfoy anymore. I’m your best friend or at least I thought I was and you—“ Ron broke off, stopping to take a deep breath, clearly getting choked up. “I thought we were best friends. Yet, you don’t even want to try and hear me out, hear my perspective.”

Harry didn’t seem much fazed by Ron getting emotional. His face remained neutral. “You didn’t want to hear Draco out.”

“Fucking hell, Harry! That’s not what this is about!”

Snapping, Harry stood up, for a second looking like he was going to lunge at Ron but remained in place. “Yes, it is!”

“You don’t care what I feel!”

“How can you talk about empathy when—“

“I just feel like as your best friend I’ve been taking a backseat to Malfoy for years.” When Ron finished speaking, a quiet came into the room. Slowly, anger began to subside from Harry as he processed for a moment before apparently giving up to confusion.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said.

Ron’s hands came up to screw at his eyes before he smoothed down his hair and took a deep breath. “I just feel like everything has always been Malfoy at every turn. We got detention because of you and Malfoy, we had to sneak into the Slytherin common room because of Malfoy, had to get back at Malfoy, you always had the Quidditch rivalry with Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy. It’s just been constant. Forever. It’s really starting to grate on me because I just always felt like he was never really worth that much of your attention when he was going to do some shit like make you faint and fall off your broom in the middle of a quidditch match.

“I mean, think about it Harry. How many of our adventures as friends over the years haven’t involved him?” Now, Ron’s voice became quieter. “Sometimes that first day at Hogwarts haunts me. Sometimes I feel like you regret defending me.”

At the end of this speech, Ron glanced up to Harry and found that his eyes had welled up with tears and there was clear guilt written across his face. Quite frankly, it mirrored Draco’s own, even without the context of the history. It was all his fault.

Not missing a moment, Harry ran to his best friend, throwing his arms around Ron’s shoulders and tackling him in a hug. After a few seconds, Harry pulled back, his hands on Ron’s shoulders as he looked him in the eyes. “Don’t ever think that. I don’t regret that day at all . Ronald Weasley, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Who else could I steal a flying car with? Who else could I take polyjuice with as a twelve year old? Who else is so damn good at chess that it saved our lives when we were eleven? Who else would face gigantic spiders—a larger form of their greatest fear —for me? I mean, hell Ron. You remember fourth year. You’re what matters most.”

Again, the friends embraced. When they pulled back, both were wiping away tears.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ron,” Harry said. “I’ll try and be better.”

Ron nodded, giving a small smile. “Yeah, well....I’m sorry for snapping at Malfoy.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I think you could apologize to him, you know.”

“Yeah, but that sounds hard,” Ron said, laughing a little bit to make it clear he was only joking.

“Ronald Weasley, you faced the whomping willow, you can face Malfoy with amnesia.”

A slow moment passed as the rest of the room watched Ron. Draco especially sat and waited, unsure of what outcome he wanted.

Ron stepped forward, coming up to the side of where Draco was sitting. He looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said. I can’t imagine how difficult this all must be for you.”

It was all too much, Draco decided. He couldn’t handle it. Unable to help himself, he burst into tears again. “How could you say that?” He sobbed.

“That wasn’t sarcastic,” Ron rushed out. “I really was trying to apologize, I—“

“No,” Draco continued, taking a deep breath to try and control himself. “How could you apologize to me? After all I did? I deserve your hate.” He wasn’t even able to look Ron in the eyes as he spoke, instead staring off into the distance.

“Hey, we all make mistakes,” Ron said, his tone casual. “And you’re clearly sorry about it. Hell, you don’t even remember what you did!”

“I’ve learned enough,” Draco said, his voice quiet and raw. “I’ve learned enough about myself to want to drown myself in the lake.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Harry rushed in, coming over to Draco.

“It’s true,” he said, heaving another sob. “I shouldn’t be alive. I should just kill myself, I—“

Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders and shook him slightly, forcing him to look Harry in the eyes. “Don’t. Say. That.”

Draco swallowed heavily. “You saw it,” he said, his voice barely heard.

“That doesn’t not define you!” Harry near yelled.

“Then what does? Tell me what I am that is not a Death Eater.” He shrugged, tears rolling down his face. “You can’t.”

Harry’s hands moved to up to cup Draco’s cheeks, subconsciously wiping away his tears. “That doesn’t define you,” he repeated.

Slowly, Draco shook his head. “I don’t know what else does.”

Straightening up, Harry squared his shoulders. “Well then,” he said. “I guess we’ll have to just find something, then, won’t we?”

Draco gave him a confused look and Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. “Do you believe Draco is so unbelievably evil that he is irredeemable?”

“No,” they both said in unison.

“Do you believe that people can right their wrongs?”

“Yes,” Hermione said proudly, faster than Ron could agree with her.

Harry turned back to Draco. “If Hermione has faith in you, you’re on the right path. Trust me, I speak from experience. She never has faith in me and I have a near-death experience every year.”

“You can’t just say that people have the ability to change and then use that as reason for me not being a bad person. It’s so much more than that. Harry, I don’t even know all that I’ve done.”

“Well, let’s see,” Ron said, beginning to count off on his fingers. “When I first met you, you insulted my family, you called Hermione that slur...once? twice? Anyone know? Uh...And then after you called her that I tried to curse you but my wand was broken so I ended vomiting slugs for...quite a while. Second year you spread rumors that Harry was evil because, well, the chamber of secrets was opened and—“

“I already told him all that,” Harry cut in.

“Oh, okay,” Ron said. “Third year you were not nice to a hippogriff and he scratched you and you made sure the entire wizarding world knew you were dying and then there was a trial for Buckbeak and we had to illegally use a time turner to free him and send him away with an escaped convict. That year you also were really nasty in Hagrid’s class and said some bad things about him and Hermione punched you in the face and that moment is still tied for the best memory I have ever had—“

“What’s the other one?” Harry asked.

“‘There’s no need to call me sir, Professor.’” Ron imitated, laughing. “Anyway, what else? What are the Malfoy highlights? Oh! Harry faints every time he comes near a dementor and you heard about that so you dressed up as a dementor during a quidditch match and made him fall off of his broom third year. What’d he do fourth year?”

“I was a little distracted trying not to die at every turn in the triwizard tournament while also dealing with you two and your young love and your Krum obsessions,” Harry said.

“It was not an obsession!” Ron yelled. “Anyway, skip to last year, then.”

“The Inquisitorial Squad,” Hermione said.

“Yeah. You just walked around and were a mean prefect but Umbridge style. This year, now much, honestly,” Ron said. “So there. Those are the worst highlights. Still convinced you’re the worst person ever?”

The trio looked at Draco, all of their faces shining with hopeful smiles. Unable to believe them and their overwhelming need for his redemption, Draco looked each one in the eyes individually. Then, he pulled up his left sleeve, turning his forearm to face them.

“Still believe I’m not?”

Ron’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. Hermione’s hands flew up to her face in shock as she gasped.

“Draco, that’s hardly fair,” Harry interjected. He turned to Ron and Hermione. “He remembered Voldemort threatening his mother’s life to make him take that and he’s caught up in this—this—“ He stopped, taking a breath. “He’s convinced he’s terrible. But I don’t think that that means that he is . In fact, him feeling so terribly is an indicator that he isn’t evil.” Harry glanced at his friends, but Hermione was clearly thinking about something else. He decided to drop it, focusing instead on Ron. “Do you get me?”

Slowly, Ron nodded. “He started crying when I said he had called Hermione that. Guilt at least means he has a conscience and I’m fairly certain You Know Who doesn’t.”

Harry nudged Draco. “You see what I mean? Even Ron doesn’t think you’re evil. And you and Ron have never gotten along. Take my word for it, Draco. Doing bad things doesn’t always mean you’re bad. Especially if you didn’t want to do them. Besides, people can change and grow. All the arse-holey things you did when you were a young kid? Everyone makes mistakes when they’re that age. You clearly feel bad about it. Anything else more significant that you’ve done? I’m fairly certain you didn’t have that much of a choice in the matter. Remember what I said? That can be who we were and not who we are.”

Draco opened his mouth, seemingly ready to argue, but was cut off as everyone’s attention was drawn away by the sound of the door crashing shut behind Hermione. He looked questioningly at the other two. “What was that all about?”

Ron shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m lucky if I can figure out what mood she’s in half the time.”

“She did have that look in her eye, earlier,” Harry commented.

“Ah,” was all Ron said in response, as if that explained it all.

Draco stared at both of them, hoping one would get the hint and explain, but neither did, so he was forced to ask, “What look?”

Harry rolled his shoulders. “She always gets this look in her eye when she’s figuring something out. It’s really annoying because she doesn’t tell anyone before she runs off; she just shows up with her theories and a mountain of books. You’ll see.”

For a few minutes, the conversation lulled.

“Well,” Harry blew out a sigh. “Who knows when she’ll be back. What should we talk about?”

After a pause, Ron said, “Quidditch?”

“Bloody hell! I’ve missed a cup!” Draco exclaimed. “What happened?! Who won! ”

“It was Ireland and Bulgaria in the final game and Bulgaria caught the snitch but Ireland still won!” Ron rushed out, coming over closer to Draco.

“Who caught it?”

“His name is Viktor Krum and he’s amazing but I also hate him because that same year was the triwizard tournament and he was the champion from Durmstrang so he was here and he’s so cool, Malfoy, you would not believe. I was so upset quidditch got cancelled that year because of the tournament because otherwise we could have played a game with him!” Ron looked like he was about to swoon. “But, like I said, I also hate him because he’s in love with Hermione and he asked her to the Yule Ball, so. Guess he’s not perfect.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Were you jealous of Krum or Hermione?”

Harry laughed out loud, clapping Ron on the shoulder. “Thank you, Draco!” He said. “I’ve been saying that for years! He always brushes me off and is like, ‘I don’t have a crush on Krum’ but that’s a lie. You saw the way he talks about him! Ron,” he turned to face his friend. “Just accept that you have a huge man crush on Viktor Krum and move on.”

“It sounds like you’re just jealous that you were left out,” Draco said.

Again, Harry laughed. Ron began to turn red. “That’s not—“ He protested. “I was still processing my feelings for Hermione and then this man who is just amazing at everything he does swoops in and it was just a little frustrating. I felt very threatened.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry said, nodding. “Or you just have a man crush on Krum.”

“Well, if I did it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for a quidditch player, hm?” Ron smirked.

Now, it was Harry’s turn to blush. “We don’t have to talk about that,” he laughed.

“Actually,” Ron mused, faking. “Wasn’t it the same year?”

Harry continued to laugh. “He was pretty, okay?!”

“‘I can’t believe Cho is going out with Cedric ,’” Ron mocked. “‘Why not me?’ Harry, you walked away from every conversation with Cho thinking that it was the worst thing that ever happened to you. You walked away from talking to Cedric and you were glowing. It was a sign. ”

“As if that wasn’t the same situation as you and Hermione and Krum,” Harry argued, still laughing.

“Okay, okay!” Ron said. “Maybe I find Krum...nice. But that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him. I was threatened. Same as you were threatened by Cho.”

“I wasn’t threatened by Cho. Just admit you thought Krum was the best thing to happen to the world.”

“He can do a Wronski Feint, Harry!”

“Yeah, okay?” Harry laughed. “So can I, Ron.”

“You can?” Draco cut in.

“Yeah,” Harry said, nonchalant. Draco blinked, trying to process. “I’ll show you sometime,” Harry added.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Just because you can do a Wronski Feint doesn’t make in any less impressive that Krum can.”

Harry looked at Draco, eyebrows raised. “Man crush,” he mouthed, making Draco laugh.

Then, the door burst opened and Hermione walked in, lugging a tower of books which she deposited on the bedside table.

“What you got there, Hermion—“ Ron began.

Hermione stopped him. “You said he remembered?” She asked. “About how he got the mark, you said you remembered?”

All looked towards Draco to answer. “Yes,” he nodded. “It was strange. The memory just came over me. I knew.”

“An obliviate is a powerful spell. You shouldn’t have gaps like that.” Everyone could clearly see that the wheels of Hermione’s brain were turning, excited to solve the puzzle.

“Well, it could have been poorly cast. They brought in a specialist from St. Mungo’s earlier who insisted on using ligilimency to assess the damage and....Let’s just say we learned that I am a rather skilled occlumens and we still have no idea how severe the damage is.”

Even while Draco was still speaking, Hermione was shaking her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t see why she would need to use ligilimency. Also, I don’t know what they’re talking about with it being poorly cast and that affecting whether or not you get your memories back. Lockhart accidentally cast one on himself with a broken wand that wasn’t even his and he’s still in St. Mungo’s and missing most of his memory. This is....This is....” Hermione trailed off, moving over to
her stack of books and flipping through them.

Her eyes jumped back to Draco’s. “Let me ask you this: close your eyes.” Draco did as he was told. “Do you feel eleven years old?” Draco shook his head. “Do you feel sixteen years old?” At this, Draco was unsure, so he opened his eyes.

“I’m not sure. I don’t feel sixteen but I don’t...not feel sixteen if you can piece together my meaning.”

“Close your eyes again.” Again, Draco did as he was told. “Please answer these questions without thinking about them. Have you ever been to Hogwarts?”

Draco’s response was immediate, as Hermione had asked. “Yes.”

“Have you ever sat in the Great Hall?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been inside the Slytherin dorms?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been fifteen?”

“Yes.” At this one, Draco’s eyes flew open. “How do I know all that? It’s so strange. It’s like I have the instinctive answer to what you told me, but I just don’t remember it.”

“But you can feel it?” Hermione questioned.

“ Yes, ” Draco emphasized.

“Well, that’s it,” Hermione said, triumphant. “It’s amnesia.”

Chapter Text

There was a small pause in the room before Ron spoke. "Uhh, 'Mione....Hate to burst your bubble or anything but we kind of already knew that it's amnesia. He clearly has memory loss from the obliviate and--"

" No, Ron. He has amnesia. Like, muggle amnesia. From head trauma. Because of the obliviate they must not have even thought about head trauma being a possibility. But it makes sense. The obliviate was poorly cast so there is no way that it took that much of his memory. Amnesia from spells acts very different from amnesia as a result of head trauma. For example, head trauma amnesia may often appear 'spotty' or be triggered by certain sights, smells, or something similar that tied to a particular memory. And , it can come back."

Listening to what Hermione said made them all pause.

Draco, in particular, didn't know how to react to the information. "Do you meant to tell me that I may get these memories back?"

"Well," Hermione began, speaking in the tone that Harry and Ron both knew meant that she wasn't one hundred percent sure, but that she wouldn't stop researching until she was. "I can't make any broad statements because I am not a head trauma professional and we don't know how the obliviate interacted with the head trauma or even if it did at all. We don't know to what extent is what."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but you have a hypothesis, don't you?"

"Oh, don't be modest, Ron," Harry said. "She always has a hypothesis. She just doesn't always want to share it with us."

"Well, fine, " Hermione insisted. "Since you all insist on being rude about it, I do have a hypothesis."

After a pause, Draco asked, "So what is it?"

"You seem like you have no memories from the last year or so, but that everything before that seems spotty. That could be an interaction of the obliviate and the head trauma amnesia. But, I would just like to say again that I don't know the extent to which these two are interacting, if at all. Please, Draco, do not take my word for it. I don't want you getting your hopes up. Even if it is amnesia, it may be come-and-go for the rest of your life, or you may end up with all of it back, or no more than you have now. I really have no way of telling. I'm sorry."

At this news, Draco realized that he had already been getting his hopes up. For what, he couldn't exactly be sure. It wasn't like he actually wanted to remember because that would mean acknowledging all that he had done in his life.

But, still. It felt like missing a limb.

The room was silent for a bit, each person trying to work out in their own mind how they felt about what Hermione said. In the quiet, Draco began fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, wondering if the possibility of him getting his memories back would change things between him and Harry.

Maybe Draco would remember something that would change the way he felt about the man. Or maybe Harry was worried that Draco would remember something and that fear would change the way Harry felt about him and this would all end before it could even begin.

Draco blinked harshly, refusing to allow himself to spiral down that line of thinking. It could be dangerous.

But when he snuck a glance at Harry, who was deep in his own thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder....

Then, Harry looked up. "Why don't we make a timeline?" He asked. "We can try and piece together when things happened, fill in the gaps. Maybe going over some things would help Draco remember."

Ron didn't look too interested in participating in that and Draco wasn't quite sure he blamed him. Hermione was already flipping through another book.

"I think I'm going to continue to research this a little further," she said. "It would be very helpful if I was able to get access to some muggle medical materials on the matter." She straightened, closing the book she was reading. "But, for now, I have a charms essay to finish. So do you two, I would imagine." She looked pointedly at Harry and Ron.

"Ah, shit," Ron cursed, quickly moving to follow Hermione out of the room. At the doorway, they lingered, both glancing back to Harry.

"Um." Harry looked around awkwardly like he was trying to find an excuse to stay. "You two go on ahead. I already did the charms essay."

"Yes," Hermione said. "In lieu of the potions assignment. Remember to get that done, too."

Harry shrugged her warning off. He had the book with all the potions secrets; he could get it done quick and spend more time now with Draco.

Without trying to convince him any further, Harry watched his two best friends leave, awkwardness settling in as he and Draco were left along in the room.

"You didn't have to do that," Draco said. "You can go. You have things to do. I understand."

Harry crashed into the chair next to where Draco was. "Yeah, well, I don't want to do it."

"That's just because potions is your least favorite subject," Draco countered.

"Yeah, but like. Like, I can do it," Harry said, wondering if this was going to lead him to reveal the secret about his potions textbook this year.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "For some reason, I get the feeling that that is just not true. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean I can't get a really good feeling that you are terrible at potions."

At this, Harry laughed a little bit.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Nothing. I just remembered this time last year when I was working with Snape on occlumency and we were using me being in remedial potions as a cover and you found out and you were so scandalized and you were like, 'reMediAL PoTiONs.'"

Draco paused, clearly catching something Harry had glossed over. "What do you mean you studied occlumency with Snape last year?"

"Oh, shit," Harry said, eyes widening. "I wasn't supposed to tell people about that. Oh, shit." He began laughing. "Whatever, what do I care? Dumbledore keeps telling me about all these things regarding the war and all and telling me to be so secret with them or I might die but, at this point? Do I even care if I die? Not really. Like I don't understand why we're using so much caution when I have a near-death experience at least every year. One of these days it's really gonna get me, you know what I mean? Well, anyway."

For a moment, Draco just sat and blinked, not sure quite how to process what he just heard. And Harry had just said it all like it was nothing.

"Harry," he began tentatively. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you alright? Like, emotionally?"

"Oh, come on," Harry laughed. "I'm not going to complain about that kind of stuff to you. I'm sure you've been through worse. I mean, for Merlin's sake, you lived in the same house as Volde--" Harry stopped at Draco's sharp intake of breath. "Right, sorry."

"It's fine," Draco said, waving it off. "Let's go back to this for a moment because you're sounding a tad depressed here."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not depressed. I've just...I've got a lot going on right now and things seem pretty dismal and all, you know?"

Draco hesitated before asking his next question. "Harry," he said, softly. "How much death have you seen?"

At this, Harry's mouth opened slightly and something in his eyes changed. "Not a ton," he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. In response, Draco simply raised an eyebrow. "Okay, well, outside of my parents, there was Cedric at the end of fourth year and then...um." Harry paused, shifting and clearing his throat. "Um, at the end of last year, uh, my godfather, uh--"

After a moment of silence, Harry sniffed and glanced up at Draco. "Sorry," he said.

Instead of saying anything, Draco reached out a tentative hand. He was surprised when Harry took it.

"You don't need to compare your trauma to anyone else's. Harry, we are in the middle of war. Sixteen year olds shouldn't have to deal with this."

Harry gave a small nod, still quiet.

"If you ever want to talk, I'm here," Draco offered.

"Thanks," Harry whispered. "It's just...it's hard sometimes, you know? Like, I feel like there's so much pressure on me, specifically."

"Well, you are Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived," Draco said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Almost forgot about that one. Oh, hey. Here's one you haven't heard. I'm also the Chosen One, I'll have you know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, at least it sounds like it isn't going to your head any."

When Harry laughed, Draco felt his heart sing in response, a goofy smile breaking out on his face. Harry's laugh was something he always wanted to hear.

Calming down, Harry glanced over at Draco, something thoughtful behind his eyes.

"What?" Draco asked.

For a moment, Harry looked caught off guard, like he hadn't thought his face was giving anything away. He cleared his throat. "It's nothing."

Worry began to creep up inside of Draco. "If it's nothing, then why don't you tell me?" He asked, his quiet. What if Harry had been thinking about their past? Remembering the way that he had always hated Draco?

To make matters worse, Harry began to blush, clearly indicating to Draco that whatever he had been thinking was something that he didn't want to say aloud. Naturally, Draco was led to the conclusion that he was embarrassed for having thought something so mean.

"It's just, um. It's just not--It doesn't matter."

Draco gave a sharp nod, pulling his hand away from Harry's. He understood.

Even now, Draco could see that there was just no helping himself when it came to Harry Potter. Something he was sure he had already learned far too well. And maybe this entire...friendship that was starting with Harry now wasn't a good idea.

Especially if Hermione was right and Draco got his memory back.

There would be no denying their past then.

It seemed to Draco like he and Harry were existing within a bubble that the hospital wing gave them. They had only been outside of it once--and no one had seen them. What would things be like when Draco was officially released from the hospital wing? Would Harry avoid him? Or, worse, would he openly go back to the way things were before to save face.

Being secret friends with Harry Potter was just looking to be too much to bear for him. He couldn't even stand these times alone with him, knowing that every time Harry looked at him there was some resentment lingering under the surface, something he would never be able to get over.

You don't just forget someone breaking your nose.

Although, Draco supposed he had forgotten quite a lot of what Harry Potter apparently did to him as well.

That, of course, worried him almost even more. What if he began getting his memory back and he realized that he actually hated Harry Potter for all that he had done? Maybe that was why Harry was so quick to jump onto the idea of moving on from their past, because his wasn't as blemish-free as everyone thought it was.

Or, that was just Draco's imagination running. His forearm, visible in his peripheral vision, reminded him of that, even when covered.

"Hey," Harry said, reaching out and touching Draco's arm softly to get his attention back. "I didn't mean it like...." He trailed off, not sure what to say.

Draco bit back a retort of, 'I know exactly how you meant it.'

"Fine," Harry said, instead. "Look, if you want to get all offended about it, go ahead."

Now, Draco's head snapped back towards Harry. "Excuse me?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's what you were doing. You have no idea what I could have been thinking about and you jumped to conclusions and got all offended, didn't you?"

Draco gave Harry an incredulous look. "How dare you? You say something so cryptic after looking at me like that and I'm supposed to think that it wasn't you reminiscing about all the times we hated each other and all of the ways that we have hurt each other? What was I supposed to think, Harry?"

"I don't know, maybe give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"Why would I do that?"

Harry sat up, spreading his arms out. "Because we're supposed to be giving each other a second chance!"  

"Yeah, well, you seem to be forgetting that it feels a lot more like a first chance for me."

That shut Harry up, Draco noted.

Cautiously, he continued. "Every time you look at me, I wonder what you could be thinking. What you could be remembering. And I don't have a lot of past experiences between the two of us to go off of, so I naturally assume that you must be thinking about some time where something bad happened. As far as I even know, that is the extent of our interactions."

After a pause in which Harry sat, thoughtful, he looked up and said, "You're right."

Draco blinked. "Yes. I am."

"Well, not all of our interactions were bad." Harry shifted, coming a tad closer to Draco. "Like when we met."

"I thought Ron said I insulted his family and--"

"No. The first time we met."

Draco gave Harry a curious look, indicating that he continue, so Harry took a deep breath.

"It was my first time in Diagon Alley, right before school was set to start. Hagrid took me to get all of my school things and we stopped in at Madam Malkins to get some robes and there was a young boy with platinum-blonde hair standing up there, having some robes done. And you looked at me, and the first words you ever said to me 'Hogwarts, too?' It was the first time I had ever talked to someone else going to this fancy, magic, wizard school. That was the first time we met." Harry shrugged and said jokingly, "Maybe I was thinking of that."

But Draco didn't laugh. "You don't have to keep trying to make me feel good with all these stories and things. I know that I am not a good person. The past can't be changed."

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are we back on this again? Draco, it's not like you even know--"

"What I did? Do I need to? And even if I learn my own motivations, would that even make a difference?" He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"So, what, you think you're just so irredeemable? Do you think everyone is irredeemable? That suddenly one bad thing makes someone beyond any good?"

Instead of matching Harry in escalation, Draco remained quiet. "It's like I can feel it inside of me. I know that I have done bad things. No matter what anyone else says, no matter how many times someone else forgives me, I still have this feeling inside of me like I swallowed something ugly."

Harry shrugged. “That doesn’t mean others can’t forgive you. It just means you can’t forgive yourself, which is something else entirely.”

Draco just stared at his arm. “You don’t understand. You’re Harry Potter. No matter what you do, the world will love you. No matter what I do, the world will only see this.”

“Well, fuck the world, Draco!” Harry yelled. “Who gives a shit about them? Look,” He moved his chair closer to Draco, laying a hand on his forearm where Draco had been staring. “I told you that we would help you. And I can keep my promises. I will do everything in my power to help you. Do you know why I would do that, Draco?”

Draco gave a small shake of his head. Now that Harry mentioned it, he couldn’t think of a single reason.

“Because I know you’re better than this. I know you’re good.”

Trying to downplay the situation as well as his emotions, Draco joked, “At least that makes one of us.”

“I’m serious, Draco.”

With a sad laugh, Draco said, “I am, too.”

Harry sat back. “How about tomorrow we go to Dumbledore and talk to him about the situation? I’m sure he can help somehow.”

“Why would he care?”

Now, Harry was starting to get frustrated and he blew out a sigh. “Are you really saying that I’m the one sounding depressed?”

“You’re the one talking about not caring whether you live or die!”

“Okay, fine.” Harry let his hands fall into his lap. “I’ll try to start caring about my life if you start accepting that other people care about yours. Is that a deal?” Harry laughed a little bit at the end at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Sure,” Draco relented. He laughed, brushing his hair back with his hand. “We’re both a mess, aren’t we?”

Harry cracked a smile. “Probably more than we even know. But, hey, we apparently have each other to keep us in check, right?”

“Oh, great good that’ll do. Because the two of us are just so stable.”

At this, they both began to laugh, the mood lightening, but then they were interrupted by a small sound at the window. Harry, being closer, stood and walked over to it, cracking it open just a small amount. The window burst open, a frenzied owl shoving its way into the hospital wing and directly to Draco.

Confused, Draco took the letter from it. It only took until the moment his eyes landed on the name that he was able to place it.

Looking up, Draco met Harry's questioning eyes.

"It's from my father."

Chapter Text

After a moment of frozen silence, Harry quietly asked, “Are you going to read it?”

Draco simply sat where he was, staring down at the small scroll that was tied together. "I don't know," he said. "It's taken him this long to contact me; I wonder what he has to say. Why didn't he write me sooner?" He looked up, meeting Harry's eyes. "Knowing my father, I'm surprised multiple people haven't already been fired."

At that, Draco noticed Harry laughing a little. "Honestly, I'm as surprised as you. You got scratched in third year—remember we mentioned the hippogriff—and multiple people came very close to losing their jobs, including Hagrid."

"I don't know who Hagrid is," was all Draco said.

"Shit," Harry remarked. "I keep forgetting how much you don't remember. Sorry."

Draco shrugged. "Well, according to Hermione, I may end up getting some of it back."

"I think she wants to sneak you in to a muggle hospital and get your brain scanned or something," Harry laughed.

"Get my brain scanned? How would they do that?"

Waving his hand, Harry said, "Not important right now." He gestured towards the letter. "There are more pertinent things."

Blowing out a sigh, Draco looked back at the letter. For a moment there, he had almost forgotten about it, despite it being in his hands. It had been nice. He kind of wished he could just forget it entirely, pretend it never happened. Because what if what was in this letter changed his interactions with Harry. It was the only thing in his life that seemed to be going right.

The only thing that was keeping Draco stable through all of this mess.

Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the end of the string, ready to unravel it. But he couldn't bring himself to pull. Instead, he looked back at Harry, exhaling a nervous laugh.

"Can we talk about something else? Just...to get my mind off things for a bit?"

Luckily, Harry took the hint and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything, Harry," Draco said, a little desperate.

"Right, right." Harry paused, trying to think of something to say. But as the silence continued to stretch, anxiety continued to build in Draco. It was like Harry couldn't think of anything. They had absolutely no common ground.

"It's just strange," Harry said. "Like, I could talk to you about all of these things but you don't remember any of them." He made a face, tugging down one corner of his lips. Draco wanted to wipe it away. "All of our inside jokes are just...gone."

"I thought we were enemies," Draco commented. "Enemies don't have inside jokes."

"Well, yeah. But we kind of did, I guess." A smile then crossed Harry's face as he seemed to remember something. "Like if you were to say 'Scared, Potter?' I would say—“

"You wish," Draco cut off, instinctively.

Harry sat back, blinking, his eyebrows raised high on his face. "You remembered that?"

Looking up at the ceiling as if it held the answers he was looking for, Draco tried to think. "I don't know. The answer just came to me. But it's like—for the life of me—I can't figure out where exactly it came from. I just know that it was there."

"That's so weird. What else do you remember?"

Draco gave Harry a flat look. "Did you not listen to a word I just said? That memory was prompted. I can't just know it out of nowhere."

Now, Harry looked at Draco with slightly narrowed eyes, like he was considering something. "You know, I'm aware that you technically don't really have memories since you were eleven, but I've got to say that you sound much more like current-Draco than you do eleven-year-old-Draco."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"Well, it's just." Harry shrugged. "When we were kids, you were very 'I'm telling my father' about everything. Kinda...whiny. Kinda bitchy, if I'm being honest." Harry laughed, "Don't give me that look! Anyway, as you grew up, you were still annoying and entitled and all, but it became more...sophisticated? I guess? Less childlike? I don't know. You just feel more like how I know you now, rather than how I knew you when we were kids."

"Maybe that's in relation to Hermione's theory," Draco guessed.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said.

The conversation lulled a moment and Draco glanced back down to the letter in his hands.

With a deep breath, he decided he didn't want to deal with it right at that moment, and he set it aside, lying it carefully on the table next to him to be dealt with later.

Sheepishly, he glanced back to Harry. "Don't judge me," he said. "I just don't want to deal with it right now."

Harry lifted his hands up, palms turned out. "Hey, I'm not judging. I wouldn't want to deal with you dad, either. But you just have to remember that you can't avoid it forever, you know. You're going to have to actually read it at some point. Doesn't mean that has to be now, but it doesn't necessarily mean that you're just allowed to wait until you feel completely comfortable with it because you probably never will."

Draco didn't respond. He knew Harry was right. He would have to own up and read it at some point, probably even respond. But it could wait. Right now, he just wanted one more night with Harry, in the calm, like this.

Settling back against the pillows, he looked at Harry for a moment. Looking a little uncomfortable at being stared at, Harry gave him a weird smile and, like the first breeze of summer, Draco was hit with a memory.

It was winter. Draco couldn't pin down the exact date or month, but it seemed to be around last year. Fifth year. That seemed accurate.

He was sitting in the Great Hall, alone. As it was late night, no one ever came to sit at the long, empty tables and Draco had found over the years that the Great Hall was the perfect place to study or just to sit when he wanted to be alone. So he was sitting at Slytherin table, nestled at the far, dark corner with his textbooks and a cup of tea when one of the doors opened on the other end and a cold breeze flooded in.

A few Gryffindor boys walked in, making an obnoxious amount of noise and Draco rolled his eyes, not able to tell who it was past the knitted caps and the scarves. But then, one of the boys began unravelling his scarf and he let out a loud, "Woo!" Draco knew immediately that it was Harry.

Pausing, he let his quill dangle in the air above his parchment. The group likely couldn't see him from where he was and Draco was fine with that. It was a dark corner; he didn't want to be seen.

They all jostled together, laughing at the fun they had been having. One by one, the plopped down on the bench closest, all slowly peeling off their caps and scarves, shaking out the snow as they did. Their laughter carried throughout the hall, beautiful music as the background to Draco's arithmancy homework.

Harry's voice carried above all.

The group were talking about whatever they had just done and most of what they said was practically incoherent. After sitting for a while and getting warm, however, Dean Thomas—who Draco just now noticed was in the group—stood up.

"We should head back on upstairs," he said. "Filch might catch us in here and I don't really want to have detention with him right before the next Quidditch match."

The rest of the boys hummed their assent, all standing up and beginning to follow, headed towards the large doors at the front of the hall.

Which meant they would have to walk right past the dark corner in which Draco was studying.

He may have been less visible, but his textbooks were spread everywhere. Worried about their reaction but not wanting to draw attention to himself, Draco simply shrunk back within the shadow, hoping that they were having too much fun with their jokes and retellings of the night’s events to notice.

As they walked past, it seemed that Draco's hopes were being fulfilled, leaving him sitting peacefully. He let out a breath, as they were fully past him now, Harry the last one, trailing behind the group.

But right before he walked out the door, Harry turned back towards where Draco was, in the corner. He lifted a hand in greeting and gave an immensely awkward smile.

Back in the present now, Draco gave a harsh blink. When he opened his eyes, Harry was standing in front of him, giving him a questioning look.

"Did you just remember something?" He asked.

Surprisingly, Draco found himself unsure if he wanted to talk about it. It was such an intimate memory, one that felt like would be ruined if they ever spoke about it out loud. Because that was back when they were still supposed to be enemies. That was before they had reconciled.

So why had Harry done that?

Did he regret it? Did he only do it because he felt awkward? Was it a jab to say 'ha, saw you'?

It felt...intimate. And Draco didn't want to spoil that.

It was then that he really understood what was happening right at that moment. The two of them, sitting on the same bed in the empty hospital wing, was far more intimate than that awkward wave had been.

The two had been sitting here and enjoying nothing but each other's presence for days.

It was nighttime. And they were alone. In the hospital wing.

All this space and Harry was less than an arm's length from him.

In that moment, Draco understood a little bit about what Harry had been saying earlier about him not being like his younger self. He was sure his younger self had never had these feelings before and while he had no explicit memory of them, he knew that his attraction to Harry Potter was by far nothing new.

Still, it felt strange not having the memories of the last five and a half years of his life and having these feelings.

Harry was still looking at him, concerned and questioning, still waiting on an answer to his question. But all Draco could focus on was the small expanse of air between them. It was like he could feel Harry's breath. The more he thought about it, the more a heat began to spread underneath his skin.

It really threw things off, not having his memories. Because if he was eleven, this would be foreign and new and...weird. But it wasn't. It felt natural. Natural like it should to a sixteen-year-old boy.

He knew without a doubt in his mind that he wanted to kiss Harry. Knew he had fantasized about that and much more thousands of times when he was alone at night. In fact, he had probably pictured a scenario similar to the one he was facing now: Harry, sitting on his bed, so close to him, late at night, nothing but silence and tension between them.

"Draco, are you okay?" Harry asked.

Shaking his head slightly, Draco snapped out of it, shame like ice running across his skin. It wasn't like he was going to admit to that for one second. He could not tell Harry any of what was just running through his mind.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Sorry. I did have a memory. It was of us in the Great Hall, late one night. You had been out and in the snow with your friends and I was studying in the corner. You were the only one who saw me."

"I wonder what triggered it."

"You gave me the same smile when you waved just before you closed the door behind you. The incredibly weird one. That must have triggered it."

Thinking on it for a moment, Harry shifted and it brought him further from Draco. It was like he could breathe a sigh of relief and hide his feelings better after Harry moved.

"Draco," Harry began. "I really think we need to start constructing a timeline. Because I think that's the most recent memory you've had."

"We can't be sure. We don't know when I got this," Draco gestured vaguely towards his arm.

"Right," Harry said. "But we can't know that. So we just have to go off of ones that we know for sure when they happened and that memory was last March. We were sure it was going to stop snowing soon and we wanted to take advantage of it while we still could, you know? So the most recent confirmed memory was last March."

"Okay," Draco said. "So that was a little less than a year ago."

"Correct," Harry said.

They both remained where they were for a moment, each individually wondering what conclusions could be made from that piece of information. In truth, neither knew the significance of this and both secretly wished Hermione were there to have a revelation and explain everything.

"Do you think I'll get my memories back?" Draco asked.

A moment passed before Harry said, "Probably. I mean, you are getting them back already so I would say there's a good chance that, yeah, sure."

Draco stared down at his hands. "Every time I have another flashback, I wonder if it's going to be the last one I ever have. And it's terrifying. I know I keep saying the same thing again and again, but I just feel like I don't know who I am and I can't even focus on anything else."

Harry turned, facing Draco. "Do you need to know your memories in order to know who you are, though?"

"How could you say that?" Draco asked. "I don't know the things that I have done. Therefore, I don't know who I have become."

"Yes, I know." Harry placed a hand on top of Draco's. "But does that matter? No matter what you have done the rest of your life, if you don't like it, why does that have to define you now?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "I have a moral responsibility for my actions, Harry."

"I didn't say you don't. I just—“ He sighed, squeezing Draco's hand. When he did, a small chill ran up Draco's spine and he tried to cover up that he had reacted. "My point is that you don't have to stay that person so it doesn't matter who you were. That's what I keep telling you, Draco. You don't have to be that person if you don't want to be."

Slowly, Draco pulled his hand out of Harry's grip. "I know what you mean, Harry. It's just not that simple."

"It is," Harry said.

"Harry," Draco said, voice soft. "It's easy to say things like that when it's just us in here. But, since this has all happened, I haven't interacted with the world at large. Do you really think you could say that same thing if I walked into the Great Hall, in front of everyone?" Draco shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."

Silence settled between them as Harry thought, his hands now back in his own lap. Draco watched his face as he processed, the ways the corners of his lips twitched and his eyebrows moved together. Then, he shook his head sharply. "Well, it shouldn't be. It shouldn't have to be like that."

Draco understood his frustration. "It's okay," he soothed. Then, he put on a happy voice. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

Now, Harry looked back to Draco, his eyes serious. "Draco. We both know that you're just trying to distract yourself from opening that letter. But, like I said, you're going to have to deal with it at some point. Maybe it's just better to rip the bandaid off, yeah?"

For a moment, Draco blinked at Harry. "What does that mean? What is a 'band aid?'"

Harry waved a hand. "Not important. It's a saying that basically means it's better to just get it over with, even if the pain may be a little more, rather than dragging out a little less pain over a long period of time." He paused. "Just something for you to consider."

He was right. Draco knew he was right. Even if his father had taken this long to get a letter to him, that didn't mean he would accept Draco taking a long time to respond.

Unable to push it off any longer, Draco reached over to the side table and picked up the scroll once more. He grabbed the tip of the string again, hesitating as he met Harry's eyes. In turn, Harry nodded at him, encouraging, and Draco pulled.

At first, it was like his eyes didn't want to focus because he was so afraid of what his father would have to say. But then he decided that he had to just do it: it was the best way.

He scanned through his father's writing quickly; there wasn't much of it. In fact, Lucius didn't seem to angry about the entire event. His point, however, was clear.

Letting the parchment and his hands fall onto his lap, Draco stared into the distance for a moment. He didn't know how this would change things. Of course, he didn't want to do as his father said, but he also couldn't find a way out of it.

But everything was going to have to change.

"Draco?" Harry asked, tentatively. "What is it?"

Closing his eyes, Draco sighed. Then, he turned the parchment so Harry could see it, watching as Harry immediately bent down and began reading.

"He wants me to come home," Draco said. "He'll be here tomorrow to take me back to the Manor."

Chapter Text

Harry was still in the middle of reading the letter when Draco spoke and his head jerked up sharply. " What? " He said.

Draco shrugged. "Read for yourself." He gestured towards the parchment and Harry's head bent back down again, finishing reading what Lucius had written.

"He's coming tomorrow morning," Harry said, his voice flat.

In response, Draco simply nodded.

"We'll figure something out," Harry promised. "I won't let him take you."

Turning, Draco gave Harry a sharp look. "He's my father; he's not going to hurt me or anything."

"Are you forgetting that the Manor is Death Eater HQ?"

"I can handle myself. I've handled myself there before, haven't I? Memory or not," Draco crossed his arms. "I know what I'm doing. There are certain things that you just have to do." Subconsciously, his chin lifted. "That's the way I was raised."

"You don't have to do this , Draco," Harry pleaded.

"I can't just disobey my father."

Harry hesitated for a second. "You could...disappear, though."

For a moment, Draco tried to pretend that he didn't hear what he so clearly just heard. "What are you saying, Harry?"

"We can hide you in the room of requirement, I can call the Order, Dumbledore must be able to do something! I'm sure Molly Weasley would agree to help in a minute." Harry lunged forward, movements desperate, frantic, and he took hold of Draco's hands. " We can figure something out. I can't just let you go. I can't just let him take you."

When Draco responded, his voice was quiet in the empty hospital wing. "I don't think you have much choice, Harry."

Abruptly, Harry stood up. "That's what everyone has been telling me for years! I understand that this is war and everything but everyone seems to be using it as an excuse to just not do anything! We're supposed to just wait and see how things play out and not intervene. But it's war and that's exactly why we have to intervene! I can't let you go back there, Draco. I just can't."

At Harry's outburst, Draco began to get angry. This was, after all, his family. Surely he would be safe with them? His mother would be there to protect him. "You have no idea what is going to happen, Harry." Watching Harry pace around was making Draco anxious and so he stood up as well, crossing his arms as bitterness began to grow in him. "There's probably a reason why everyone keeps telling you to wait. If you jump in now without thinking about things, you could make a mistake. If we don't know how bad this would even be, then why are we making such a fuss out of it?"

Harry shot him a scathing glare. "And what if it kills you? Just because we weren't sure what would happen. What then?"

"You don't get to make this decision for me, Harry."

"Apparently you don't get to make it, either."

Draco's eyebrows raised. "You think I ever get to make any decisions? When it comes to my father, I do what I am told. I'm going."

"So what?" Harry asked, his arms thrown out to the sides quickly before they dropped down, clearly upset. "You're just going to give up?"

"It's not giving up and I don't appreciate you thinking that you get to run my life."

"You know," Harry said, lips pressing together quickly in a way that was barely containing his anger. "Usually when someone says that it's because they are upset that someone else is trying to control their life. But your father is controlling your life and you don't seem to have a problem with that, do you?"

Draco shook his head lightly. "You are so stupid."

Eyes wide, Harry took a step back, almost feeling the words physically. "Sorry?"

"Think for a moment, Harry. I suffered a brain injury and so my father is coming to take me home. If I suddenly put up a fight, how would that look? For all I know, there is nothing at my home that would prove any threat. This course of action is expected, yes? But me fighting against what he says--especially from the supposed mind of my eleven year old self--just doesn't make any sense. And we have clearly seen that I have experienced ligilimency. What if my father has that ability and he looks into my mind and finds out about all of this? That is what would put me in danger, Harry. Being suspicious would put me in danger. Don't you see that?"

As Draco spoke, he could tell that Harry sensed some truth in his words but still didn't like it. He folded his arms across his chest. "I'm getting Hermione and Ron."

"Excuse you?" Draco asked.

"I just--" Harry ran both hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do."

"I thought we already determined that you aren't going to do anything."

Harry crossed the room back to Draco, his hands coming up to Draco's shoulders. "I can't just let...."

Draco stared into his eyes. "You can, Harry. You have to."

Stepping back, Harry once again ran his hands through his hair. "We were just starting to get on, though."

Draco shrugged. "It's war. There are things you have to do."

"What if I never see you again?"

That made Draco stop. "Harry, what would make you think that?"

Looking deflated, Harry walked back over and sat down on the edge of the bed Draco was leaning against. "I think that every time my friends leave a room these days. What if that's the last time? We could all die at any moment and I would never get to say goodbye." He stared down at his hands. "Just like Sirius did. He fell and then he was gone forever." Now, he looked back up at Draco. "That's why I can't let you go."

Understanding, Draco sat down next to Harry. "Well, what other option do you have, exactly?"

"I'll go to Dumbledore," Harry rushed out.

"You really think he would help me?"

Harry blinked. "Dumbledore helps everyone."

At this, Draco had to suppress a laugh. "You and I have very different perceptions of the old man. I don't want to work with him; I don't want to owe him anything."

"What are you talking about?"

Draco shook his head, indicating that now wasn't the time. "Harry, there are just no good alternatives."

Defiant, Harry stood again. "I don't agree. I'm going to go and get Hermione and Ron."

Knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop him, Draco let Harry go, watching the door shut behind him. Despite knowing that Hermione would likely agree with Draco--he was the logical one here, after all--he couldn't shake the feeling that Harry would do whatever it would take to keep Draco leaving with his father in the morning.

He just didn't see any other option.

Unsure if Harry would forgive him for going behind his back like this, Draco bent down anyway, searching around until he found his schoolbag that had been brought in with him. Opening it up, he dug through it, wondering if there was anything useful inside. It was empty besides textbooks. He debated leaving it but eventually decided against it.

After checking to make sure that his argument with Harry hadn't garnered the attention of Madam Pomfrey, Draco picked up the pack and crossed the room to the door of the hospital wing and slipped out.

__________

In a matter of minutes he was exiting the dorms, softly closing behind him the door. Draco knew he was going to have to move fast because Harry would soon be back at the hospital wing, see that Draco was gone, and pull out that fancy map of his. There were places that didn't show up on the map and Draco intended to spend his time in the Room of Requirement until morning when his father arrived. It would be too late for Harry then. But first, he stopped off at the kitchens.

He expected Harry knew that he was in the Room of Requirement, probably standing outside and waiting for him. When Draco paced in front of the wall three times, the door appeared and he slipped in, aware that Harry was likely close behind.

The room he was given had a single chair with a small table in front of it. A few books were stacked on the table and a large clock was on the wall. Other than that, the room was bare.

Draco took a seat in the single chair, crossing his legs on the cushion, and pulled out the food that the house elves in the kitchens had given him. He would sit here until the morning.

__________

Harry ran through the castle, map bouncing in front of him so much that he couldn't see it. He didn't need to, anyway; Draco was heading to the Room of Requirement. All Harry had to do was catch him.

The second he had opened the door to the hospital wing, Harry knew he never should have left. He had been delusional to think that he was going to convince Draco to not go. But, then again, he never thought Draco would do something this drastic.

He sprinted down the corridor, taking a corner so fast he almost winded up on his side. Once he regained his control, he saw the door appearing in the wall, Draco standing in front of it. Just as Harry practically flew down the corridor the door shut, just out of Harry's reach.

The handle vanished moments before Harry's hand slapped the wall where it was. He groaned in frustration, his head coming to rest on the wall.

What was Draco thinking? They could have solved this some other way: there were other options than him going with Lucius.

Turning, Harry sank down to sit with his back against the wall that would have been next to the door. He couldn't rid himself of terrible visions of Draco dying. Voldemort himself was likely at that house and Draco would be taken there tomorrow morning. Harry was helpless to stop it.

He had been sitting for a few minutes by the time Hermione and Ron caught up to him. Ron stopped a few feet from Harry, panting, hands on his knees. Hermione was also breathing hard, but she seemed to proud to show it.

"Harry, what the--hell?" Ron lifted his head as he spoke. "You just yelled 'room of requirement' and took off?"

He tossed his head back to indicate the wall behind him. "Draco's in there."

"Why?"

"Yeah, Harry," Hermione said. "You didn't really tell us anything when you came and got us from the dorms." She walked over to sit next to Harry and Ron did as well. "What's going on?"

Looking down at his hands, Harry said, "Draco's dad sent word that he'll be picking Draco up in the morning and taking him back to the manor." He bit his lip. "I couldn't convince Draco to let me help. I told him that he didn't have to go and he says that he does and then I went to go get you two for backup to convince him that we can protect him and...now he's gone and locked himself in the Room of Requirement until morning so we can't even try and get things together."

For a moment, neither of his friends knew what to say. "I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That must be hard, considering you two were starting to get along really well."

Harry kept his stare on his hands, unsure if he should tell his friends something that had recently been confirmed. Something he had kind of known about Draco for a while now. Something about himself.

He kept worrying at the inside of his cheek, panic building inside of him for so many reasons.

"I can't just let him go back there."

"Mate, I don't think you have much of a choice."

While he knew that Ron was right--that it was the same thing Draco said--he didn't want to accept it. Did none of them understand that he couldn't just stand idly by and let something bad happen to Draco?

He glanced up at his friends. No. Of course they didn't understand. Probably because there were things that they didn't know.

__________

Draco took a look around the room, wondering what he should do now. He could probably sleep; there were still a few hours before he would have to leave with his father. But he kept fixating on Harry's reaction to Draco saying that he was going with his father. Why would Harry care so much? Draco had only just started being nice to him, right?

It's probably because he's just that amazing of a person. Harry Potter truly was perfect, wasn't he?

Draco pulled his legs up and set his chin on top of his knees. He didn't want to leave Harry and he hoped the other man knew that. He actually...really liked Harry. And from the things he had learned so far since waking up, he had apparently liked Harry for a long time. And not just liked but--Draco blushed-- liked liked .

And he was worried that...well, what if....

What if when Draco left, Harry stopped caring so much?

__________

There were tears close to escaping when Harry looked back up at his friends again. "You don't understand," he said. "I can't let anything happen to him."

"Harry, we--"

"No." Harry cut Hermione off. He needed to get this out. He didn't know how his friends would react, but it still had to be said. "I need to say this first." He took a deep breath. "I guess I've kind of known for a while now. I just wasn't entirely sure and I was trying to deny it. But these past couple days with Draco....I know it's true."

Hermione and Ron just waited for him to go on.

__________

Draco pressed his hands against his cheeks, bordering underneath his eyes as he tried not to cry. He didn't want Harry to just write him off as a lost cause or something. And Draco would have no way of knowing how Harry felt. They surely wouldn't be able to contact each other; it would be too risky. He could potentially not see Harry again until the war was over and, of course, no one knew when that would be.

What was he going to do?

It wasn't like he could just open the door and tell Harry that he liked him. They had just started to get along and Draco couldn't ruin that. Maybe in a few years when Harry was able to win the war, they would become friends again. Draco could hope, right?

But something on his left forearm told him that by the time the war was over, he really would be irredeemable. Harry would realize that he had made such a mistake trying to befriend Draco in the first place.

After all, Draco was a death eater, wasn't he?

__________

Harry took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I like Draco."

__________

Draco would be delusional to think that even their friendship now could survive outside of the hidden parts of the castle.

Harry could never like him. Not really.

___________

Hermione and Ron didn't react immediately in those moments, Harry's panic just continued to grow. His lungs felt like the air inside of them was frozen in waiting.

"Well," Ron said and Harry's panic jumped even higher. "I mean, we knew you probably didn't hate him considering how fast you two became friends over the last few days. And we've already talked about how we're fine with you two being friends. It's okay."

Part of Harry could finally exhale but there was something in Ron's words that stopped him. It was like Ron didn't quite....

"Ron, I mean that I like Draco. Not just as a friend."

At this, Ron's face changed slightly. Not enough for Harry to name the difference, but there was a difference. "Oh," he said.

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from his best friend. Because in liking Draco, he had made another confession, hadn't he? And surely Ron would...surely he wouldn't....he was Harry's best friend, right?

Ron's face looked pained as he thought.

__________

Draco shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. This was a war, dammit. He would have to put his schoolboy feelings to the side. It didn't matter if Harry Potter would want to throw him in Azkaban after this was all over. What mattered is that Draco had to help in any way he could. Right now, that meant going with his father so as to not arouse suspicion.

No matter how difficult that was.

__________

"That's why you can't let him go with Lucius." Ron blinked, looking like he was trying not to cry. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be going through. Mate, why didn't you say something sooner?"

Harry's heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest and he lunged over Hermione to throw his arms around Ron.

Ron: his best friend in the entire world, the person who would always stand by him, the most amazing friend he could ever ask for.

Harry sat back and began to explain himself and all of his fear as his two friends nodded, understanding and sympathetic. Before long, the hallway began to lighten and they realized it was the result of the sun coming up.

When they noticed this, Hermione jumped up. "Harry, I have an idea. I'll be right back," she said.

It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for and to run back to Harry and explain her plan. Harry's face lit up as she spoke.

"Hermione, as always, you are bloody brilliant!" Harry said, embracing her. "Thank you."

On the wall behind them, a door materialized. The three stood up as Draco exited the Room of Requirement, a bag slung across his shoulder.

Draco faced Harry. "Harry, I'm sorry," he said. "You know I have to go."

Putting a hand on Draco's shoulder, he gave a sad smile. "I know. You better get back to the hospital wing before your dad gets there."

"Yes. And you probably shouldn't be there when he does."

Draco turned, starting to walk back. He didn't even get a step before spinning around and practically tackling Harry in a hug.

The two stayed as long as they dared, holding each other, before Draco turned and made his way back, refusing to look over his shoulder.

He walked into the empty hospital wing, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his bag beside him. He only had to wait a few minutes before the door swung open and framed the intimidating silhouette of his father.

"Draco," Lucius said. "Come on."

Standing, Draco picked up his bag and followed his father.

Chapter Text

Walking in to the Manor, Draco was practically shaking. Harry had been right—he never should have gone.

There were Death Eaters everywhere.

He had barely walked through the door when his mother wrapped her arms around him in a hug. As she pressed him tightly to her, he could hear her whisper, "It's all going to be okay, Draco. We'll explain everything." When she pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, there were tears in her eyes. "I know that being obliviated is scary, but I'm here for you. It's all going to be okay. Come on, dear. You need to rest."

With her hand on his back, she guided him up the familiar steps of his house. But there was something decidedly unfamiliar about this place. Everything looked the same as he remembered, but it was penetrated by a deep cold as if the house's bones were frozen.

His mother walked Draco into his room, closing the door behind her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and came in front of him, pushing his hair back with her hands. "It's all going to be okay, Draco."

"Why are there people here?" Draco asked, remembering that he had to pretend he knew nothing about the war.

"I'll explain everything. I will do everything I can to protect you. I will never stop protecting you. Right now, I have something else I need to go do. Take this time to rest, Draco. A doctor will be coming to visit you soon. Lay down, love. It'll all be okay."

His mother's reassurances only made Draco worry more, but he laid down. When the door to his room clicked behind her, he sat up immediately, panic rising in his throat. It was all he could do not to scream. He needed to calm down, so he decided to do what always would calm him: organize.

Bending over, he picked up his backpack that had been discarded on the floor and dumped its contents out on his bed, starting to sort through them in order to put them back in their place in his room. But something in the pile glinted, catching his eye, and he picked it up.

It was a mirror.

Draco sat down on the bed amidst his clothes, staring at the mirror. What was it doing in his things? He didn't remember packing it.

Then it occurred to him: when Harry said goodbye to him, he had put his hand on Draco's shoulder, near his bag. It was the only time someone would have been close enough to slip something in there, besides his mother. Which meant it must be from Harry.

Which meant it was likely magical.

Feeling slightly stupid, Draco whispered, "Harry?"

There, right in front of him, green eyes popped into the frame of the mirror.

"Draco!" Harry shouted and Draco immediately shushed him, glancing around the room.  

"Be quiet! You were right," He glanced back at the door, paranoid. "There are Death Eaters everywhere."

"But you're okay?"

Truth be told, Draco was unsure. But he knew that if he said anything, Harry would likely come running. "For now, at least. I think being obliviated gives me a bit of a pass, do you know what I mean?"

Harry nodded. "I'm worried about you."

That was very nice of him, Draco thought. Harry cared about him.

"What is this mirror?" Draco asked instead, leading his thoughts away from Harry, knowing that this was not a safe space to be having them.

"My dad and my godfather used to use it to communicate. It was Hermione's idea so that we can talk with each other without anyone knowing. All we have to do is say each others' names for it to show us the other side of the mirror. If anyone picks it up, it'll just look normal."

Smiling, Draco nodded. "Very smart, Harry."

"I'll let you reach out to me, though," he said. "I don't want to try at a bad time."

"That's a good idea." Draco leaned closer, still whispering. "There are so many Death Eaters here. I think it might be all of them."

Harry looked like he wanted to say something but then decided against it.

"What?" Draco asked. "You can tell me."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head sharply. "Hermione and Ron think that we should go to the Order and tell them everything that has happened with you. But if we do that I'm afraid they'll want to use you as a spy. That's too risky and I'm not going to let that happen."

Draco pulled away from the mirror a tad. "I'm not helpless, Harry."

"Of course you're not. But, Draco, you don't even have a wand right now. I just don't think it's safe. We should...lay low for now."

"Lay low?" Draco glanced at the door when he realized he may have said that a bit too loud. "All I'm going to be doing is sitting in this damn house. I could collect so much useful information. I could do something ."

"Yes, but," Harry looked exasperated. "You don't have to do something. You don't have to be...dragged into this war like I am."

Draco's mouth opened in an offended scoff. Then, he lifted up his bare left arm. "I think I've already been drug into it, thank you, Harry. There's no point in trying to protect me. I'm already here. Might as well be doing something."

Harry's jaw tightened. "I just want you to stay safe. Everyone else in my life is risking everything and I just—I don't want you to do that, too. Everyone is danger. Just give me one person I care about that isn't at risk of dying!" Harry whisper-yelled.

Although Draco felt for Harry, he wasn't going to change his mind. "I'm already at risk for dying. We're well past all that, Harry. And I know you don't like it, but that's what it is. I'm sorry."

Harry pressed his lips together. "I know," he said quietly. "I know." Harry shook his head. "Sorry. It's just hard."

"Of course it is." Draco so wished that he was sitting next to Harry so that he could reach out, take his hand, comfort him. "Listen, Harry," he said. "I think your friends are right. You should go talk to the Order and tell them everything."

At this, Harry's head snapped up. "Draco, did you not hear anything that I just said? They'll probably want to make you a spy."

"It doesn't matter, Harry. They need to know. And if that is what they want then that might be what happens. Look, we need at least one adult who knows about the situation. We're still dealing with my memory loss through all of this, remember? I would kind of like to know if there is anything we could do about that."

When Draco finished, Harry still looked upset. He knew that Draco was right and he knew that he couldn't argue. "Okay," he said. "You should probably go." He ran a hand down his face. "We should probably stick to keeping these conversations short. You know, less likely chance of being caught."

Draco nodded. "So are you going to..." He left the question hanging.

"Yeah," was all Harry said.

Again, Draco simply nodded. They both looked at each other for a moment, neither wanting to be the one to end the conversation.

"Goodbye, Harry," Draco said, aware that his mother would likely be back to check on him soon.

"Bye, Draco." And just like that, Harry was gone.

And just like that, the fear began to set in.

Draco could only imagine how much he would be freaking out if Harry hadn't already explained a few things about the war prior to Draco coming home. But that didn't mean he could shake off the feeling of unease at being completely surrounded by Death Eaters. He didn't know how he would ever sleep with the knowledge that one of them could always be just outside the door.

As he sat, the paranoia refused to leave him and Draco found that he almost couldn't move. He felt like he was being watched, despite knowing the opposite. If he had been watched, someone would have seen his conversation with Harry and he would likely not be left alone right now. Maybe questioned, even. He shuddered at the thought of what that could be like.

In a blink, a fleeting flashback hit him. Luckily, it was there and gone. Draco pulled his sleeves down over his hands, feeling as if there were grime coming up his shoulders. Like someone had been in his body.

He realized, of course, that that was essentially what had happened. His earlier encounter with the woman who claimed she was from St. Mungo's only confirmed the memory he just had: Draco was not the only person to have ever been in his mind.

Putting his hands up around his head, Draco knew that he would do almost anything to keep that from happening again. It was his mind—he should be the only one allowed in it.

But the paranoia refused to leave him. In fact, the longer he sat alone in his room, the more the feeling of being watched would grow.

Unable to sit still any longer, Draco stood and walked swiftly to the door, pulling it wide open and looking out into the hallway, expecting to find a lingering Death Eater. What he found was much worse.

Screaming, Draco jumped back, scrambling to get away from the large snake that began following him. As he backed into the room, Draco tripped over something, his mind too far gone in panic to bother with what and he shoved himself back with the palms of his hands, the snake staring him directly in the face, her eyes looking as if they were changing colors.

Draco thought that was impossible and had the urge to shake his head to clear it of what was obviously a magical mirage in front of him, but some small part of him knew that breaking the gaze between him and the snake would be the death of him.

He heard footsteps thundering down the hall towards him, likely drawn out by the sound of his scream, but he didn't dare move his eyes.

The snake was still making her way towards Draco and she was doing it lazily, as if she had all the time in the world. As if no one would dare stop her. In a frozenly terrifying moment, Draco realized his back had hit the bed.

He couldn't go any further.

Narcissa threw herself around the corner of the door and into the room, lunging toward the large snake without a thought for herself. Still frozen against the bed, Draco saw his mother grab the snake, just as his aunt Bellatrix came into the room after her sister.

"What are you doing!" Bellatrix yelled, watching as her sister threw the snake out of the room. Defeated and hurt, the snake turned and continued down the hall, leaving the three in peace.

"Narcissa," Bellatrix hissed, running to close Draco's door, leaving the three of them in the silent room. She turned on her sister as Narcissa made her way to Draco, wrapping her arms around him. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

Draco's mother held him to her and smoothed his hair. "It's okay, Draco. It's alright. Everything is going to be okay."

"Narcissa," Bellatrix said again. Finally, her sister turned to her. Bellatrix straitened her shoulders. "You could have just killed us all. If the Dark Lord finds out what you have done to Nagini there will be none to defend your actions."

"Bellatrix, she was going to kill my son."

"Then you let your son die for the Dark Lord and you consider it a blessing and an honor."

In shock, Draco blinked up at his aunt. All his life, he had never known Bellatrix. He had simply heard stories of her from his mother's childhood. Narcissa had always made sure to highlight the good parts of her sister in her stories, straying away from the actions that caused Bellatrix to end up in Azkaban in the first place. But now Draco could see exactly why:

Bellatrix was a monster.

Narcissa stood to face her sister, determination clear in the set of her shoulders. "You are not a mother, Bellatrix. I would sacrifice everything for my son. Now, if you would excuse us, sister, Draco has recently been obliviated and is in need of rest."

A pause hung dense in the air between them. "Your recklessness will one day be your downfall, Narcissa." With that remark, Draco's aunt turned and left.

When the door shut behind her, Narcissa's posture softened and she turned back to Draco. "That was likely not the best possible first impression my sister could make on you."

Draco started to open his mouth to tell his mother that he had vague memories of Bellatrix from the past few years, but he stopped short. Even after what she just did for him and what she just said to Bellatrix, Draco was entirely sure if he could trust his own mother.

He was glad he was sitting down when he realized that. It was a strange feeling, to not be sure if he could trust his mother.

As he glanced up at her, she seemed to move in slow motion, brushing the hair back from her face. What would she say if he told her? If he said everything about the muggle amnesia and about Harry about...the mirror.

He wouldn't risk the mirror. He wasn't going to lose Harry.

"Draco, are you alright?"

Jumping slightly, Draco met her eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"Come up," she said, holding out her hand. Draco took it and stood up. For a moment, he looked at their hands joined together and thought again if she would raise an alarm throughout the house if she knew the full truth about his last few days.

"Mother, in the past few days, I have become friends with Harry Potter." He refused to meet her eyes, still staring at those hands. "His friend Hermione thinks that my memory loss is not entirely a result of the oblivate, but rather from head trauma. She thinks this because I've been...getting memories back."

The entire time Draco spoke, he wished that he could make the words stop. But they had already been said and there was no taking them back now.

His mother's hand slipped out of his and Draco could have sworn that he felt his heart fall through him and shatter on the floor.

Narcissa went to the door and opened it in a single, swift motion, sticking her head into the hallway and looking both ways.

Then she shut it behind her and pressed her back against it for a moment before returning to Draco.

"You can't say those things," she said, speaking in hushed tones. Her hands came up and cupped his face, brushing his hair back. "You can't mention Harry Potter or that you have become friends with him. Don't say anything about this to anyone, Draco. Do you understand? They will hurt you. "

For a moment, Draco stayed silent. "I know. I remember."

"For your safety, darling, let's just say that it was a very intense oblivate that was cast. Let's not talk about this muggle amnesia, okay? It's dangerous here. And do not ever say that man's name again. Do you understand?"

Narcissa waited for Draco to respond to her, to tell her what she needed to hear.

Draco took a deep breath. "Mother, there's more."

"No, no, no, no, Draco, there can't be more. More just puts you even further in danger." She was brushing his hair back almost frantically now, tears beginning to start in her eyes.

She sat them both down on the bed, facing each other, and took Draco's hands. "Okay. Tell me."

Draco opened his mouth and the fear from earlier gripped him. Could he trust his mother?

Narcissa sensed her son's hesitation. "It's okay, darling. You can tell me. I will keep whatever secrets you have and I will do everything in my power to protect you. I promise."

That was enough for Draco. He nodded. "Because of the...muggle amnesia, Harry is going to speak to some of the people that he knows. That means...the..." He hesitated to say it out loud.

His mother nodded curtly, cutting him off. "It's better not to say it. I understand your meaning. Is that all?"

And at that moment, Draco knew he couldn't keep another secret from his mother. Especially not the one that was killing him, secret and alone in his heart.

Tears began to well up in his eyes. "I think I'm in love with him. Are they going to kill him?"

Narcissa sat unresponding, her face frozen. Long moments passed as Draco felt hot tears begin to run down his face but he couldn't move. He sat watching his mother's face, looking for an answer.

She leaned forward. "Draco, you are never to repeat any of this. That is a given. But what you just told me....You have to pretend that that doesn't exist. If you let yourself feel those things, you will die. Forget about whether or not he is going to die. Forget about him completely. Draco," She reached out, taking his hand. "Do you understand me? Never repeat those words again.

"As far as you are concerned, Harry Potter does not exist." Her voice was barely a hissing whisper as she spoke, her hand gripping his tight. "Push him from your mind. Obliviate yourself again if you have to. But never say that name, never say those words, and never feel those things again."

Pushing back her hair with another breath, Narcissa continued. "Draco, I will do anything for you. I would die for you without hesitation. But you need to act in your own interests. That means listening to everything I have just said. All of the words that have been exchanged between us in these last few minutes were never spoken. Do you understand? This is war, Draco. These people are evil. They will kill you."

Mouth dry, Draco gave a slow nod. "I understand, Mother."

Narcissa nodded. "And, Draco, for the love of Merlin, do not say anything about this to your Father." With that, she turned and left, leaving Draco sitting on his bed, feeling utterly cold.

He realized the mirror had been sitting on top of his bedspread this entire time. His mother likely saw it. If she had any idea of what it was, why didn't she take it?

Chapter Text

Harry dropped the mirror in frustration, the image of Draco still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to be a dick about the whole situation, but he couldn't just let Draco put himself in danger. He shook his head.

He never should have let Draco leave.

It wasn't like he could have stopped him, but still. Harry didn't think the regret would ever leave him.

He stood up from his bed, tucking the mirror under the pillow. He needed to talk to someone, so he headed down to the common room to find Ron and Hermione.

They were sitting together in the corner, the common room scarcely populated for the middle of the day--it was finally sunny and warm enough to be outside so everyone else seemed to be making the most of it. Harry walked right up to his friends and crashed down next to them.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione greeted. "You look down. Is it because of Draco leaving?"

"Yeah," Harry said, leaning back. "I just talked to him and...he's not safe. I never should have let him go back there. What if something happens to him?"

"I know you're worried, Harry, but you made the right decision. Right now, he can easily play at innocent, what with everyone thinking he can't remember a thing since he was eleven. If he stayed, he would have been put in more danger."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Harry covered his face with a hand. "I know all that. And Draco isn't about to let me get him out of there, either." He removed his hand, giving his friends an incredulous look. "Do you know what he wants to do?" For extra measure, he glanced around the common room and lowered his voice. "He wants to be a spy for the Order."

"That's crazy!" Ron exclaimed. "If he just plays innocent he can stay out of danger the best. Out of all of the options, that's the safest for him. But if he starts being a spy? He'll get himself killed!"

Harry shot to a proper sitting position. "That's what I said! Thank you!" He crashed back then, feeling defeated. "But he's being stubborn about it. He wants us to go and talk to Dumbledore and the Order and everyone and I said that that could be dangerous because what if they do actually want to make him a spy. But, he wants to know more about his memory and he wants to actually do something to help."

Harry and Ron instinctively looked to Hermione. "If he wants to spy, then let him. I don't see why we would hold him back from that."

"Hermione, are you serious?" Harry asked. "He could die! He still doesn't have his full memories back and he doesn't even have a wand! He's defenseless!"

Mouth set in a line, Hermione turned fully to face her friends. "Just because Draco lost all his memories doesn't mean you two can act dumb. Sure, he can be a drama queen, but Draco can handle himself. He's been handling himself this entire year. You should give him more credit."

"More credit?" Harry asked. "Hermione, he doesn't have any memories or a wand. It would be irresponsible of us to make him a spy and put him in danger like that."

"But think about it. Would he be in nearly as much danger as our other spies? He would be the least suspected."

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you're actually considering this."

"All I'm saying is if that's what he wants, then who are we to stop him? It's not like he would be going out of his way to get information. He would likely just report back on whatever he happened to encounter."

"And what if the information he gives us leads them to him? What then, Hermione? All they have to do is some fancy legilimency and they'll know everything."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not saying it's a safe thing. This is war. Nothing is safe. And probably most of the information he gives us will be either of no importance or something we would have gotten from our other spies anyway. Besides, it's not like we're arguing about a made decision. The Order may or may not allow it. We should go to Dumbledore."

"I agree with Hermione," Ron said.

Harry looked toward Ron with an open mouth.

"Not about letting Malfoy be a spy if he wants to," Ron rushed out. "But about the going to Dumbledore part. We should have done that much earlier. Like when we realized that Malfoy was getting his memories back."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide if his friends were right (and his emotions were just getting in the way).

"I just--" Harry started, voice quiet. "Everyone in my life is in a constant state of danger. Everyone is having near-death experiences all the time. Can't one person just be allowed to be safe? Am I not allowed that?"

Hermione laid a hand on top of Harry's. "I understand what you mean, Harry, but this is a war. I also wish that all my friends are safe but we just don't have that luxury right now. The best way to make sure everyone is no longer in danger is to see this through until the end and win. And the quickest way to do that is by using every single person willing to help."

Harry took a moment to process what Hermione said with a few deep breaths. He knew there was so much truth in the things that she was saying, but he just wanted to hold Draco's safety close, not let anything happen to him. He was just so defenseless right now and Harry had helped him into that situation.

He opened his eyes, sitting up with another calming breath. "Alright, fine. Let's go try and talk to Dumbledore, then."

The trio stood, Hermione and Ron not needing to verbalize that they were--no doubt about it--going with him. The three were in this together, as always. Nothing could change that.

They made their way to the statue of the gargoyle and up the set of stairs to find Dumbledore's office empty. The headmaster wasn't around.

"Do we just wait?" Ron asked. "I mean, he'll have to be back at some point."

Hermione made her way to the window and looked out on the grounds. "C'mon," she then said, leading her friends out of the office. "It's such a nice day that he's outside. We'll go get him."

Harry and Ron trailed after Hermione until Harry stepped up as they got closer to Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," Harry said and Dumbledore turned towards the three.

"Yes, Harry?"

Suddenly unsure how to go about this, Harry glanced at his friends for help. Ron, surprisingly, took charge. "It's about Malfoy, sir. We know he was obliviated and was sent home with his parents. But...that's not all we know."

"Well," Dumbledore responded. "I would assume that you would know so much, as it is public knowledge. But please tell me what else you have heard about the situation."

"It isn't what we've heard," Hermione said. "It's what we know. We saw Draco in the hospital wing--Harry broke his arm the other day playing Quidditch--and we've made a few discoveries." She stepped closer. "His memory loss isn't entirely the result of the obliviate. I believe, sir, that he is experiencing amnesia as a result of head trauma. I have come to this belief because he seems to be getting memories back, often triggered by certain events or words, or sensory images."

"That's quite the discovery, Miss Granger." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Thank you for telling me this."

"That's still not all," Harry rushed out. He glanced towards his friends and they gave him encouraging looks, all three of them knowing he had to be the one to continue. "We know Draco's a Death Eater, sir. I understand you likely already know. It was quite a shock for him when he saw the Dark Mark on his arm; he doesn't remember taking it. Over the last few days, Draco and I have...become friends. When he left, Professor, I gave him half a two-way mirror."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Was it by chance the one your father and Sirius Black used? They always thought they were so clever using it in class but the professors knew. They just couldn't catch them with it." Dumbledore chuckled. "As for Mr. Malfoy's alliances, yes, I was aware of them. But you can leave the worrying over that to me, Mr. Potter."

Harry couldn't take it any longer. "He wants to spy for the Order," he blurted out. "Also, he wants people to keep looking into his amnesia because he would kind of like for it to go away."

"Well," Dumbledore said. "That is all a very serious matter."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited for the Headmaster to continue, but he did not. He acted like that was the end of the conversation, like what they had just said really wasn't so serious after all.

"Professor?" Harry prompted. "He's not safe. He's told me that there are Death Eaters all over at Malfoy Manor. We know that they're there. And--"

"Mr. Potter, I am grateful that you have brought me this information. I understand that you are in a unique position and I would very much like to help Mr. Malfoy with his memory issues but I am afraid I would not be of much help in the matter. The best thing that you three can do is to continue what you have been doing."

"So nothing?" Harry almost yelled. "Because that's what we've been doing. For years, we have just been sitting around and waiting for Voldemort to attack me when he feels like it. And now he's recruiting students at Hogwarts? Are we just going to sit around and wait as his numbers continue to grow? What are we supposed to--"

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he stopped, realizing what he was doing. He gave a thankful glance back at Ron. "I'm sorry, Professor. You know much more about the situation than I do and if that's what you want us to do, then that's what we'll do."

Dumbledore nodded and gave Harry a smile before returning his attention to whatever it was he had been watching. Harry didn't bother to investigate.

The three made their way back to the castle defeated, Harry trudging along between his friends. He just felt so frustrated: no one ever wanted to do anything, it seemed.

Or, he supposed he shouldn't say that. Draco was desperate to do something.

Oh, how he wished right then that he could talk to Sirius. Sirius would have the answers and if he didn't, he would suggest some crazy plan to Harry that would actually take action.

He really missed him. And that was exactly why he didn't want all of his friends in danger--it was exactly why he wanted this war over, whatever he had to do to make it like that.

The three found themselves back in the common room once more and Hermione and Ron sat back down on the same sofa.

"Care to join us, Harry?" Hermione said lightly, clearly ready to try and cheer him up.

Harry sighed. "I've got some homework to do actually," he said, but didn't move towards the stairs.

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "'Mione, if he's trying to escape to do homework, there is something seriously wrong. We've got to fix him, don't you think?"

Hermione gave him an appraising look before nodding. "Yes, Ron, I think you're quite right. Our friend needs some good cheering up."

"Guys, no." Harry ran a hand down his face. "I just--I just want to go and sleep or something."

"It's the middle of the day?" Ron said.

Harry felt a lump in his throat beginning to form. "Yeah," was all he said.

"Sit down, Harry."

Feeling like his arms were weighed down by some evil spell, Harry sank into a chair across from his friends.

"Harry," Ron began. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday, when Draco left."

For a moment, Harry was confused but then he remembered confessing to his friends that he has feelings for Draco.

"I know you're probably feeling all sorts of things right now and I think your feelings for Draco are only complicating matters. Maybe we should...talk about it?"

Hermione gave Ron a wide-eyed look. "You want to talk about feelings, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "I know it's not my favorite thing, but Harry seems to be in genuine distress and I can't let my friend feel alone in that. Even if it is feelings for Malfoy," he joked and for a second it was enough to make Harry smile. "So what's going on in that head of yours?"

Harry took a deep breath and tried not to choke on his words. "It's like everyone I care about keeps dying off. I'm constantly worried about who it's going to be next. And I can't help thinking it's going to be Draco because I couldn't protect him and I let him go into a terribly dangerous situation and now if he gets hurt, I'm going to feel like it's my fault because I can't protect anybody and maybe if I just tried a little harder I could find someway to make this all end and I could keep everyone but I--I can't, I--I don't know what to do--and--"

Both of his friends were then at his sides as Harry began to cry. There was nothing they could think to say. They could point out the irrationality of his feelings, but they knew he already knew that. The truth of it was that Harry was partially right: everyone they cared about was in constant danger and none of them could do anything to stop it.

"I know how you feel," Ron said.

Harry wiped his eyes and looked at his friend. "You do?"

"Yeah. I mean..." He took a deep breath. "I'm worried about my family. A lot of them are in the Order and they're working on fighting the Death Eaters and actually making an effort to end the war and I'm at school." Ron laughed, short and sharp. "It just feels so ridiculous, doesn't it? There's a war going on and my family is fighting and I'm at school. I don't know if I'll be alive tomorrow but instead of working to make sure that the world hasn't ended, I have to write a fucking essay. It's absurd!

"So, yeah, Harry. I get it."

The two shared a look, both understanding the plight of the other, how much his friend wanted to do something and how useless he felt.

They were just starting to calm themselves back down when Hermione burst out in anger:

"It shouldn't be that way!"

Both turned towards her, surprised at her outburst. "We shouldn't have to choose between laying down our lives in a war and taking proper schooling like kids of our age should! We shouldn't have to choose! We should just live in a world where our livelihoods aren’t threatened like this. That is what is ridiculous, that is what's absurd!"

She straightened up, thoroughly emblazoned now. "Dammit, I want an education. I want to go to school and not have to worry about if my school will be attacked. And damn the Ministry for not doing anything about it. This is a crisis and no one seems to care. Well, you know what? I won't have it. I won't have it! "

"Okay, Hermione," Ron said. "Let's take a few deep breaths and--"

"Ronald, do not dare tell me to calm down."

Ron shut his mouth and looked towards Harry for help but found none.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and there was a glint in her eye. "Well, you're both fed-up aren't you?" Both of her friends nodded. "Well, good, cause I am too. I say we don't stand for it anymore."

"And how do you suggest that?" Harry asked. "They're not going to let us join the Order."

"Then we do it on our own." She nodded, as if that settled it.

Before Harry and Ron could continue questioning, Hermione walked over to her bag that had been left laying next to the sofa and removed a long strip of parchment.

She spread it out on the table and set a few quills and a bottle of ink next to it. "If the Ministry won't protect our school, we will."

As Ron and Harry watched, Hermione began drawing on the parchment the perimeters of Hogwarts, labelling entrances and important places on the grounds.

"Ron, hand me another piece of parchment, will you?" She asked as she was almost done. "We'll enchant it like we did the signup sheet for the DA." Dotting the last line of the castle, she straightened.

"We aren't the only students at Hogwarts who feel like we're just sitting here and waiting for Voldemort to attack us. We aren't the only ones who feel useless." She paused, waiting for them to get it.

"So," Ron began. "We protect the school by uniting the students? In a secret group like we did with the DA?"

Hermione nodded, triumphant. "Exactly. And that's just the start of my plans." She gestured towards the other piece of parchment Ron had retrieved for her. "Let's start by making a list of everyone we think would be a good participant. Remember, this has to say secret."

Ron sat down at the table and picked up a quill, but Harry was still looking intently at Hermione.

"What are your other plans, 'Mione?"

She smiled in return. "Don't worry about that. We'll get there. Let's just call this...Phase One."

Harry was itching to know more but he knew how Hermione could be so he took a seat at the table and started brainstorming names.

Chapter Text

Draco squinted as he walked through the dark hallway. No wand with him, he had nothing to light the way with but that was fine; he didn't want to be seen sneaking around the Manor.

Up ahead there was light--a door opened halfway. He walked up to the doorway and stopped a few meters back, waiting and listening.

Inside, there were a few people talking in hurried, hushed tones. But he was too far to determine how many of them there were or what they were saying. Holding his breath, he shuffled closer.

It wasn't until he was mere centimeters from the strip of light that invaded the hallway that he heard any distinct words:

"...and kill him." A deep voice.

"Kill him? But why him?" A woman asked.

A sharp scratch made Draco jump but silence quickly followed. Leaning as much closer as he dared, Draco closed his eyes to listen for any sounds. What he heard confused him: small sounds that took him a moment to place. But his eyes snapped open when he did:

Choking.

His spine stiffened and he inhaled sharply, trying not to cry out when he heard a large thunk. He could picture the body falling to the floor that must have caused the sound.

Another voice spoke and just the sound of it made Draco feel physically ill, like his stomach was frozen over.

"Does anyone else dare to question me?"

Silence.

Long moments passed in which Draco heard nothing but his heart in his chest. He strained to listen but did not hear until it was too late.

The door swung open and there, standing in front of him, was the Dark Lord.

Panicking, Draco threw himself backwards, but hit the wall. Before he had another moment to think, his entire body was taken over by painful convulsions.

When he woke up, he was lying in his bed and his mother was at his side, a cold and wet cloth on his forehead. But, strangely, he didn't feel the pain of the crucio still lingering.

"Draco, darling," his mother said. "You've been in a fever all night and having bad dreams."

With a deep breath, Draco realized that his mother right and it had been a dream. A nightmare.

He had been back at the Manor for less than a week and had fallen ill somehow. He could mark the moment he had started feeling unwell because on his second day back he had been visited by Snape and the sickness made it so the full memory of that visit was not even clear.

So for the last few days, he had been highly watched by everyone around him and therefore unable to contact Harry using the mirror. He could feel it, solid beneath his pillow, just beneath his head, but it was too risky to bring it out and see Harry's face right now. If anyone caught him, he would be too weak to fight them at this time.

"It was..." Draco paused his sentence, a cough racking his body. "It was a terrible dream, Mother. I saw the Dark Lord and he--he crucioed me."

Narcissa removed the damp cloth form his forehead. "Dear, I don't think that was a dream. You have been cruicioed by the Dark Lord."

With a wave of energy, Draco struggled to sit up. "Do you think it could have been a memory? I was in a dark hall, listening on a conversation. I think someone died and then he caught me in the hallway."

His mother took one of his hands in hers, nodding gravely. "Yes, love, that was a memory. It was just after the Dark Lord rose. You hadn't learned to be careful. I'm so sorry, dear."

Draco sat, confused, as his mother stood. Could it be that his other dreams were memories then, as well? Could they be revealing themselves that way?

"Well, Draco, wait here a moment. Snape should be here soon to deliver some potions to help you get well."

Still deep in thought, Draco gave his mother a nod as she left the room. He was trying to piece together ways to tell if a dream was a memory or just a dream when the door opened once more and Snape walked in, alone.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Snape asked, walking to his side.

"Strange," Draco answered, honestly.

"Is your memory of the past few days a little disturbed? Do you feel sick?"

Draco nodded. "Yes to both. I think I was getting sick when you last visited. I can't quite remember that. Does it have something to do with the obliviate?"

Snape shook his head. "No. Your memory disturbances from the last few days and your symptoms of illness are the result of a specialized potion that I gave you. Because of its possible effects, I supposed I would have to reexplain to you our conversation a few days prior."

He sat down on the edge of Draco's bed, where Narcissa had just been. He spoke in hushed tones.

"Mr. Potter and his friends discussed your situation with Dumbledore who then discussed it with the Order. It was there that I heard of your muggle amnesia in addition to your obliviate as well as your ridiculous plans to become a spy. To update you, the Order is still considering your idea on that. In the meantime, however, you and I have agreed on a plan.

"I gave you a potion to mimic an illness so that I would have an excuse to bring you some other things during this 'sickness.' The drowsiness of the potion as well as possible effects of the muggle medicine had the potential to give you fuzzy memories of the last few days, as if you were running a high fever.

"You see, Draco, Ms. Granger was onto something in regards to your head trauma. You have been receiving a muggle medicine known as a blood thinner in order to encourage blood circulation to your brain to lower health risks because you and I have agreed to conduct an experiment of sorts with potions to attempt to heal your brain."

Now, Snape set out a few things on the table beside Draco's bed. Three were potions of ominous color, sealed and moving inside their jars, and the other were two small, white capsules about the size of Draco's fingernail.

"Are those these blood thinners?" Draco asked. "What are the potions?"

"The first is to mimic the symptoms of an illness. The other two are a combination of potions that I am attempting to use to restore your memories. But, Draco, there is something else we must discuss."

Draco rubbed a hand across his face, still feeling the affects of his last dose of sick-potion. "What is it?"

"You have to stop talking to Harry Potter."

That wasn't something Draco was going to be compromising on. His jaw tightened as he tried to not bite out a reply, keeping himself in check. "Harry's at Hogwarts and I'm here. How would I even--"

"I don't know," Snape said. "But you are communicating somehow. And it needs to stop."

Again, Draco's teeth ground against each other. "Why?"

Snape let out an aggravated breath. "Firstly, this is a dangerous situation, Draco, and I shouldn't have to explain myself. But I'll elaborate. Potter doesn't exactly know the definition of being discreet. He can't keep any information you would give him to himself."

Draco narrowed his eyes. As he sat and talked with Snape, he remembered earlier, with his mother and Nagini. He hadn't been sure if he could trust his own mother so what did that mean for if he could trust Snape?

"No."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon? Did you just say no to me? This is a war, Draco. You're going to have to make some sacrifices to keep yourself alive."

"You heard me. You know, people keep telling me what I have to do. But I think I'm going to be making my own decisions about things now."

Slowly, Snape shook his head. "I have always regarded you as a surprisingly bright young man, Draco. But this is incredibly stupid. If Potter says something and it's overheard, you could die. I know you don't exactly have your memories from the last few years, but you should know that's not something you should put your life on."

"On Harry? Yeah, I would put my life on Harry. I knew from the moment he walked into the hospital wing, that I would put my life in his hands. I inherently trust him more than anyone else I've talked to since I woke up. And he may be a blundering idiot sometimes, but when it's important, he knows how to act. And he would do anything for those that he cares about."

Snape raised his eyebrows again. "Oh, so you think he cares about you? You think a few days of friendship are enough to put your life on? Draco, this war is going to end up involving every single person that Harry Potter has loved and cared for for as long as he has known them. And if it comes down to the people he regards as his family, or the person who hasn't been his enemy for a few weeks, who do you think he is going to choose?"

Draco knew it was a rhetorical question, meant for him to ponder, but he actually knew the perfect answer. "Neither. Or, both, rather. Harry would throw himself in front of any spell. He truly is such a Gryffindor. He doesn't do no-win-scenarios. Once he has determined that you are part of the people he cares about and is going to protect, you are in that group forever. And there is no hierarchy. He will sacrifice himself first. Every single time. So, yes, I trust him with my life because I know beyond any doubt that he would lay down his for mine."

Snape laid a hand on top of his. "That is quite a lot of trust, Draco, to put in one faulty teenager. He has flaws just like everyone else."

"I know he has flaws. He has an ego when it comes to Quidditch and is in complete denial about it, he can't finish an assignment on time well for anything, and he's generally quite oblivious. But one thing he isn't is self-serving. Or cowardly. I know it's a lot of trust. But, strangely, it doesn't scare me. I'm scared of so many other things right now, but that isn't one."

For a moment, Snape regarded him quietly. "I suppose that maybe you're right, Draco. Maybe I have also fallen under the belief that your amnesia has weakened you and am treating you like an eleven year old once more. You have always been sure of yourself."

"Honestly, this only proves my point," Draco said, quietly, not wanting to push things too far. "Right now, everyone assumes I have gone through such a terrible ordeal and am childlike. In other words, not a threat. I'm not under any sort of suspicion and it's not like I'm going to be asked to do any sort of task for the Dark Lord anytime soon. I am practically not noticed. It's the perfect situation."

After a beat, Snape said, "I still don't like it. You're young and you should have never been involved in all this. I know your father thinks that because he joined the Dark Lord at a young age, that you should as well. But he joined willingly because he believes in what the Dark Lord says. What do you believe, Draco?"

Draco sat quietly for a moment to think, looking at his hands. No one had ever really asked him that before. And he wasn't even quite sure anymore. "I believe that my father does not have my best interests in mind. I don't know if he ever has. The only reason he had a child was to provide an heir and I don't think he really cared about me much past that. I know that my entire childhood I promised myself I would not grow up and be like him. I was going to be happy and I was going to love people and be warm and inviting. I wanted to move out of this cold, dark house and do something with my life. I wanted to have friends.

"I know I went to Hogwarts with this idea in mind and tried to make friends immediately. And my proposed friendship with Harry Potter did not exactly work out and I think it may have made me rethink some things about what my father had taught me all my life. That maybe he was right. I found the only people I could make friends with were other 'pureblood' families like my own and I think it started to move me in the same direction of belief that my father held. But then I realized I'm gay.

"And it got me thinking about how my father would react to that and how he would react to things generally and I remembered that that wasn't the person I wanted to be. He is not what I want to be. I don't believe in what is going on here. The killing, of course, but the ideology as a whole. I am repulsed and I am scared."

Draco paused a moment and when Snape did not fill the silence, he continued talking.

"When I woke up with that amnesia and I saw the Dark Mark on my arm, I was completely caught up in the fact that I must be a terrible person. I had no idea how I could have come this far and how I could have become this. I feel like I don't know who I am."

"You know," Snape said. "Those feelings were real and they were true."

"Then why have I done all I have done for the Death Eaters? I really am that disgusted by what I have done. I would rather die so I don't understand--"

"Draco, you were surviving. Sometimes we do things we don't want to do because we have to for our lives and for the lives of people we care about."

Draco resumed staring at his hands, thinking over what Snape and said. He knew Snape was right: he had remembered that moment with his mother. And he would do anything for her. Everything was just conflicting inside of him. And on top of everything, he didn't know who he could trust to talk about any of this with and he was stuck inside of this house.

"I think," Snape began. "You have made quite a case for yourself as a spy for the Order. In fact, mine was the only vote they are waiting on. Now, if I am going to vote yes, I have a few rules for you, Draco, and I want you to agree to them before I make my decision."

"What are they?" Draco asked, mixed feelings swirling inside of him at the prospect of actually being a spy. He wanted to feel like he was doing something in the war effort, but that did not make the situation any less terrifying.

"First, all information that you acquire will be sent back through me and only me. However you are communicating with Potter is not a way for you to relay a message of this importance. If I ever find out that you told Potter some important information, I will find out how you two are communicating and put a stop to it. You must remember, he is not technically even a part of the Order. He is also not a courier. Do you understand, Draco?"

Of course, Draco would do nothing that would endanger his line of communication with Harry, and he supposed what Snape was asking was reasonable.

"Alright," he conceded.

"Second, you are to speak to neither of your parents about any of this. Your father cannot be trusted. He is wholeheartedly a genuine Death Eater. Your mother was also forced into this, yes, but she does not work for the Order so she cannot know. I know that is difficult, Draco, but it is necessary."

This was just back to Draco's point about not being sure who he could trust. He had to be careful around his own mother?

"I understand."

"Third. You are never to interact with the Dark Lord. As a result of your amnesia and your being gone from Hogwarts, he likely has no purpose or interest in you. There should be no reason for him to see you and therefore you are not to go near him."

"That shouldn't be hard to follow."

"You are also not to go near Bellatrix. Stay away from her at all costs. Make whatever excuses you can. Leave the room, fall faint, never leave this bedroom in the first place. She is dangerous, Draco."

Draco shuddered. "I know. Nagini almost ate me when I got back and when my mother saved my life, she scolded my mother and said that she should have been honored that I could serve the Dark Lord in such a way as being eaten by his pet snake."

"That's not the only reason she's dangerous, Draco. She's a strong ligilimens. I have no idea if your body rememberers occlumency or if that knowledge is entirely forgotten to you but--"

"I remember it," Draco said. "They brought in a specialist from St. Mungo's when I was at Hogwarts and she tried to use ligilimency without my consent saying that she needed to assess the damage and I threw her out without thinking."

Snape looked like he had frozen. "Why would she need to use ligilimency?"

"That's what Madam Pomfrey said."

"Alright, Draco," Snape said, a tone of urgency in his voice. "I am going to vote yes. Your first thing that you have to do if you have to just walk around this house and try and see if you can identify that woman who called herself a specialist from St. Mungo's. That is all you have to do. I will see you in three days. Don't get into any trouble in the meantime."

Draco nodded and with that, Snape stood up and walked out the door.

For a minute, Draco sat, silent. But soon his fingers began itching to reach under his pillow and grab the two-way mirror. And, naturally, that is exactly what he did.

Chapter Text

"Harry."

Draco waited for Harry to answer the mirror call and soon enough, there was Harry's lovely face, looking back at him from the other side. 

"Draco, hey. What's going on?" Draco couldn't tell what was going on in the background with Harry, but it seemed fairly active. 

"Hey, Harry, are you sure you're in a place to be taking this call?"

"Oh, yeah. Hermione and Ron and I are just hanging out outside. What's happening with you?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Snape was just here. He talked to me about some things involving the..." Draco trailed off, thinking he probably shouldn't say that aloud. Not only could it expose him, but it would also expose Snape. "You know," he decided on. "Apparently his vote is the tiebreaker for whether or not I'm going to do what we were talking about." 

Harry looked confused. "Why are you talking like that?" 

And just like that, Draco was thinking Snape might have been right after all. Maybe he was wrong to put so much faith in Harry. Maybe the oblivious arse really was going to get him killed if he was asking questions like that. He just gave Harry an even look until his face lit up in understanding. 

"Oh, yeah, right. What's he going to vote?"

For a moment, Draco debated if he was going to tell Harry or not. He could say "He's going to vote yes, but he told me not to tell you." Or he could lie. 

He had the sense that the smart thing would probably be to lie. This wasn't something Harry should know about. He was likely to slip up. 

Which is why whoever he was in the past probably would have lied. But Draco was trying to not be that person. 

"I convinced him to vote yes, but he told me not to tell you," Draco decided. "He also made it very clear that you are not an information courier and I'm not supposed to say anything to you or he's going to make it his life's mission to figure out how we're talking to each other and end it."

Harry nodded in understanding and then glanced back behind him at Hermione and Ron before moving away from them. Through the mirror, Draco could feel things calming down as Harry moved away. "Sorry, they're having a row," Harry said. "It's really distracting." Draco saw Harry take a seat. 

"So, Draco, how are you? What's going on?" 

Again, Draco found himself wondering how much he should tell Harry. Just like the last time they talked, Draco was worried that Harry would come running if he thought Draco was in any danger. But, still, he needed someone to talk to and Harry was the only one he could be honest with right now. 

He sighed. "Uh, well, I've been sick the past couple of days so not much has happened. Er, well, not sick, I guess. Snape has just been making me appear sick. I don't quite remember most of why because these potions are messing with my head a bit, but I get it and I understand why we're doing this. Did I tell you about Nagini?" 

Harry's eyes went wide. So he knew who Nagini was. "The snake? Why? What happened?"

"Well, the first day after our mirror call, I opened the door to my room and she was there and she tried to eat me. My mother ran in and was able to save my life, but my aunt Bellatrix came in after her and scolded my mother! She saved her son's life and then her sister tells her that she's being delusional because my mother and I should have been honored to serve the Dark Lord in such a way." 

For a second, Harry just looked at Draco, jaw dropped open. "That's fucked up," was the response he settled on. Inside he was freaking out and worried for Draco, but he didn't dare say anything. He didn't want to worry Draco even more. Bellatrix must have been more dangerous than he had thought. 

Who was Harry kidding? "Bellatrix was more dangerous than he had thought." She had crucioed him and tortured Neville's parents! Inwardly, Harry scolded himself for leaving Draco with those people, alone and unprotected. 

He had to do something.  

"Before you go getting all righteous Gryffindor," Draco said. "I would just like to remind you that anything you do will likely only put me in greater danger. So don't do anything." 

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to do anything," he lied. 

"Okay, well, I should probably be going. It's probably best if we keep these short."

"Yeah, I agree," Harry said. 

"Alright, well...bye then, Harry," Draco said. 

"Bye, Draco."

And the call ended. Harry was almost immediately dragged back into Ron and Hermione's argument. 

"Harry," Hermione demanded. "Tell Ron he's being stupid." 

"I don't know what you're fighting about, Hermione," Harry said, standing. 

"He says my plan is too dangerous." 

Harry widened his eyes. "Well, I don't like the sound of that. The Weasleys aren't usually one who shy away from a plan because of danger. In fact, I recall that the person who has always been so worried about getting in trouble is you, Hermione. So whatever you're planning probably isn't the greatest idea if Ron thinks it isn't safe." 

Ron made emphatic gestures as Harry spoke, clearly grateful for the backup. 

"Look," Hermione said. "All I'm trying to do is get this student watch started. I want everyone to take shifts. And we're going to be teaching like with the DA and they're going to learn how to use a good disillusionment charm and then no one will be caught! It's foolproof."

"So why does Ron think it's so dangerous?" Harry asked, not being able to see anything dangerous about it.

"Oh, maybe because she's trying to convince my brother to lend us a dragon!" Ron yelled. 

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Hermione, how is that--"

She crossed her arms. "I don't think even Death Eaters would be too keen on entering Hogwarts if there was a dragon guarding it."

"Sorry, let's backtrack," Harry said. "How do these two things fit together?"

"Well, we get the students used to the watch, right? And then we get the dragon from Charlie. Next, we teach all the students how to work with the dragon and then--"

Harry stopped her right there. "No. No, we aren't teaching students how to 'work with a dragon.' Make a different plan, Hermione."

She sighed heavily. "Fine, but I'll need the Marauders Map. I'm planning on copying it and handing out the copies to the students who have signed up for the watch. Then they can even stay in the common rooms and watch the map and be ready if anything happens." 

Harry threw his hands in the air. "You had that plan the whole time?"

"And it was that easy to make you change your mind?" Ron asked. 

"Although," Harry said. "I'm not so sure how I feel about you giving out Marauders' maps. First, I really like mine and I like it being the only one. Second, that could be really dangerous in the wrong hands, you know. And someone could sell one to a Death Eater."

"Way ahead of you," Hermione said, clearly proud. "So the copies I make are going to be a little bit different. They aren't going to show the names of every single person in the castle, for one. Also, they are going to have an extended view of the grounds of Hogwarts. The people that show up on the map are going to be anyone that is on the grounds. Then, the map will also show all the entrances in and out of the castle. That we know of, I suppose. And, if any shady character gets into the castle, whoever is on watch can cast a spell for that person's name to be tracked. And then, as that person walks around the castle, the map will show the viewer exactly where that person is, as they are walking."

"Okay, we still would have the problem with stealing."

Hermione shook her head. "The maps will be passed from one watch group to the next. In addition, each group is required to use a special wand signature when opening the map and this is connected to their wand specifically. Like a fingerprint." 

Harry stared at his friend. How had she come up with all of this? It sounded far too complicated. 

"That sounds far too complicated," Ron said. "Are you sure you can even do all of that? It took Harry's dad and three friends just to make the Marauders' map and it isn't nearly as intricate!" 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I already have my theory written out on parchment. I just have to check a few things with the actual map and then I should be good to start production. Harry," she pointed at him. "You have to lead a meeting of all of our volunteers tonight, in the Room of Requirement. Tell them about all of this, unite them, whatever. Just talk. Now, can I see the Marauders' map, please? I'd like to have the copies done by tonight." 

In a daze, Harry pulled the map out. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said, handing it over. 

Hermione snatched it from his hand and set off for the library, leaving Harry and Ron. 

Ron looked over at Harry. "Did you just get off your mirror call with Malfoy?"

Harry nodded, not sure what to say. 

"And?" Ron raised an eyebrow. 

"He and Snape are trying some things out. But, it doesn't sound like things are going well overall. He's in a lot of danger, Ron. And I feel like I need to do something no matter how many times he's told me not to." 

"Yeah, that and I still don't trust Snape. I know he's part of the Order and all but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Harry pulled a face. "Yeah, I'm not sure where I stand on that either. But, Draco seems to trust him, so I guess I can be okay with that." 

"What about him being a spy?"

"I think they're going to do it."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Seriously? How stupid are they? Isn't Snape already a spy? They have enough. They don't need Draco to risk his life."

"I know, right. That's exactly what I was say--" Harry stopped, turning to Ron. "Did you just say Draco?"

Ron recoiled. "No. Of course not."

"You did!" Harry insisted. 

"Whatever," Ron said sharply. "You're a little right about the whole, give him a second chance thing, so maybe I'm trying a little. I just don't think that he should be a spy, is all." 

Harry decided to let it go, sensing now was not the time to dig into Ron's changed feelings about Draco. "I agree. We should probably go after Hermione, huh?" 

Ron nodded. "That would be a good idea." 

Together, they set off for the castle, quiet most of the way. 

"I know we've kind of talked about it," Ron began. "But I feel like there's still more I want to say..."

Harry was confused for a moment before Ron continued, unsure what he meant. 

"About this whole, liking Malfoy thing," Ron continued, and Harry instinctively held his breath. "You said that it confirmed something you had been thinking about for a while and I just thought...Well, I was just wondering how long that while...has been. And I know that it's not like you've been actively lying to me or anything, and I know that when you decide to reveal that information is entirely up to you, but part of me just feels like I must have done something to make you feel like you couldn't share that information or that I would react badly and I just want to say that I'm sorry." Ron stopped walking, turning to look at Harry. "Whatever it was that I did that for even a moment made you consider not telling me or postpone me that you like men, I'm sorry. I never want to make you feel that way, Harry, like you can't tell me something. Or be afraid that I would reject any part of you. You are my best friend. I love you, mate." 

Before Harry could say anything, Ron cleared his throat and kept walking towards the castle. 

Harry had to do a quick jog to catch up, thinking over what his best friend had said. And he knew Ron was content to leave it at that, but Harry wasn't. 

Reaching out, Harry grabbed Ron's hand to make him stop and turn towards him. Once he did, Harry hugged his best friend. 

For a moment, they just held each other, neither really wanting to talk about the emotions they were feeling. 

Harry pulled back and looked his best friend in the eyes. "It wasn't anything you did. It's just how I was raised and how the world is. You are always afraid of letting anyone know, you know? You hear these horror stories of people who were absolutely certain their parents loved them unconditionally and that it wouldn't be a problem and yet as soon as they come out, their parents kick them out of the house and disown them and it makes you so afraid and it makes you question how all of you friends have ever treated you. Is it really unconditional? 

"And, I'll admit that I was a little more wary of your reaction that Hermione's. But I think that's just cause you're a guy. When you're a guy and you tell another guy that you're attracted to men, they can get a little weird. And I think Hermione has kind of...known. My worry with you was mainly that you wouldn't get it. Wouldn't...I don't know, in a way, wouldn't believe me." 

Ron put his hands on Harry's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I believe you, mate. And it doesn't change anything to me. You are my best friend and nothing will ever change that. Even if you like men. Even if the man you like is the ferret. Even if you date the ferret. Hell, even if you marry him. Nothing will stop you from being Harry Potter, Ron Weasley's best friend." Ron smiled. "Sorry, mate, but you're stuck with me." 

Harry laughed. Ron probably had no idea how much any of that meant to him, but he promised himself he wouldn't cry about it until later because Ron always got weird with tears. 

"We should keep heading to Hermione," Harry said. 

"Uh, yeah," Ron agreed and they walked the rest of the way to the castle in silence. 

They made their way directly to the library, knowing that that was where they were always the most likely to find Hermione. 

Unable to find her at the tables, they made their way to the Restricted Section. Ron elected to sit near the Restricted Section and just wait until Hermione came out instead of trying to sneak in there, saying there was no point. 

Harry agreed and they were about to sit down when something in the Restricted Section caught his eye. Moving to the side a bit, he squinted until he figured out what it was. 

He tapped Ron on the arm. "Ron, there's a house elf in the Restricted Section," he whispered and Ron came next to him to look. 

"What could that be about?" 

They exchanged a look. "Or, maybe, who." 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Harry smiled, pulling out the invisibility cloak. These days, he always kept it on him for easy access. 

Together, Harry and Ron ducked under the cloak and began to follow the house elf. 

"What do we do if it apparates?" Harry asked, just before the house elf left with a pop. 

Underneath the cloak, the pair exchanged another look. 

Ron pulled the cloak off, past the point of worrying about getting caught in the Restricted Section. "Well," he said, crouching down. "It looks like someone sent the house elf to snoop around for them and report back. But they left all the books right here." Ron picked up a pile of three books and as he did they began to vibrate. Ron looked at Harry. "They're going to resort themselves. Quick, Harry, we have to remember these titles." Ron read out the three book titles and Harry tried his best to help remember them so they could find them later. 

" Medical Ligilimency: Myth, Fact, and Opinion; Deep Ligilimency, subtitle Simultaneous Deep-Thought and Surface Level Layering; and Ligilimency Lock for the Ad-- " Before Ron could finish the last title, it floated out of his hands with the rest. 

He sighed, looking after them as they floated away. "I think it said Ligilicmency Lock for the Advanced Learner, but there was also a subtitle and I wasn't able to catch it." 

"Don't worry, Ron. That should be enough to find it again. Although, what is a ligilimency lock?"

"A lilgilimency lock," Began a voice from Harry, emerging from the shadows. "Is when a ligilimens plants a lock deep inside someone's thoughts that tracks and monitors based on code words." 

Harry and Ron looked sheepishly at Professor Snape until Harry's frustration welled up and he felt the need to defend himself. "Professor, we weren't trying to sneak around in the Restricted Section. We saw a house elf in here though and were just trying to see what they were looking for someone. What do you think this could be about?" 

Even though he knew that Snape likely wouldn't answer, he hadn't been able to stop himself from asking the question. But, to his surprise, Snape didn't yell at them and tell them to stay out of things. 

"I suppose," Snape began. "That you are going to keep snooping if I don't tell you. Perhaps if I agree to be upfront with you, you can agree to stop prying on this subject. Would that sound like a reasonable deal?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other and had a small silent conversation before Harry turned back to Snape. "That sounds fair, Professor." 

"From the sound of those titles, it seems like someone is attempting to plant a lock using simultaneous deep ligilimency. Which is incredibly interesting, considering someone was trying to use liglilimency to pry into young Mr. Malfoy's mind after his accident."

"That's right," Harry said. "There was that person who claimed to be a specialist from St. Mungos. Something felt off about that."

"There was a lot 'off' about that, Mr. Potter. What is interesting to me is that only a Hogwarts house elf would be able to get themselves into the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. And a Hogwarts house elf would only do so for a Hogwarts student of professor. It seems we have another spy in our midst."

Chapter Text

Harry and Ron turned to each other and exchanged a look. Another spy? And it had to be either a professor or student at Hogwarts! 

Ron narrowed his eyes a little bit and Harry got the meaning: sure it's not Snape himself? 

"We'll stay out of it, Professor," Ron lied. 

Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. "It would be wise if you stuck to that commitment. To perform a ligilimency lock is incredibly difficult. That means we are dealing with a powerful ligilimens who would enter either of your minds with ease. This is not simply about the two of you, you must realize. This is for your safety, Mr. Malfoy's safety, and potentially could greatly affect the outcome of the entire war. So stay out of it," Snape finished, his tone dark. 

Both boys nodded and Snape turned and walked away, still not fully believing the mischievous students. 

He moved quickly through the castle. This was highly troubling information and he had to warn Narcissa as soon as possible. Someone was trying to mess with Draco's mind and Snape suspected they would only get increasingly sneaky in order to accomplish their goal. 

In his office, Snape knew that what he was about to do was risky. He grabbed the floo powder and threw it into the fire, hoping that the right person would be in the right room because Snape didn't have an excuse if anyone else saw him. 

"Malfoy Manor, Narcissa Malfoy's study," Snape said and waited for his floo call to be answered. 

He was fortunate that, quickly, Narcissa answered. 

"Severus?" She asked. "You can floo here." 

Now knowing the room was clear, Snape flooed into the study and stood next to Narcissa. 

"What is it, Severus?" She asked. "You aren't supposed to be back here until the end of the week."

They both kept one eye on the door as they talked. "I'm afraid it can't wait until then. A house elf has been discovered retrieving books about ligilimency locks and layering. Given what happened when Draco awoke in the hospital wing, someone is trying to put a subliminal ligilimency lock on Draco." 

Narcissa wrung her hands, able to let her worry show around Snape. "Do you think it's on the Dark Lord's orders, then? It could have been the Order," she whispered, hopeful. 

Snape shook his head. "I have spoken to Dumbledore about what happened with the so-called official from St. Mungos. He doesn't know anything about it. The Dark Lord must have ordered it. Or, at the very least, someone suspects Draco of something and is trying to find something that would put them on his good side." 

Eyes still on the door, Narcissa said, "How are we supposed to find out who?" 

Opening his mouth to respond, Snape was cut off before he could say anything. "Wait!" Narcissa said. "Who found the house elf?"

Snape sighed inwardly. "Potter and Ronald Weasley." 

Nodding, Narcissa thought for a moment. "Do you think they're going to keep trying to figure out who it is? Because if they find out the wrong information and go up against a powerful ligilimens..."

Snape shook his head. "I have warned the two of the same things, but you have likely heard stories of that friend group. I do believe there is no chance that they will stop. We have to prepare for that eventuality that the entire Order will be compromised by their foolishness." 

"I understand," Narcissa said before taking a deep breath. "Thank you for warning me. I'll let Draco know. You should be going now." 

Agreeing, Snape nodded his head. "I'll inform Dumbledore of all of this." With that, he turned and flooed back to his office. 

Still wringing her hands, Narcissa stood in her study. She had to take a few deep breaths to steady herself. This could be potentially disastrous. It made her want to find that Potter and shake some sense into him herself. Didn't he know this was her son's life that was at stake here? 

Carefully, she pulled all of her worry and panic deep into herself and straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. Then she walked out of the study and made her way to Draco's room.

She took the lesser-used hallways for as much of the route as she could. As a result, Draco's door was in sight and she hadn't encountered a single person on the way. But then, just before she reached the door, her sister appeared in the hallway from around a corner. 

"Cissy, dear," Bellatrix said. "What are you up to?" 

Narcissa straightened her spine minimally. "I'm just checking on my son. As you know, he has been sickly recently." 

Bellatrix nodded somberly. "I'll check on the poor thing with you. After all, he is my dear nephew." She pressed a hand over her heart. "Such a tragedy what happened." 

Knowing that there was no way that she could speak to her son alone without raising suspicion in Bellatrix, Narcissa simply smiled and nodded. "Of course, Bellatrix. He hasn't been able to see many people recently because of the sickness, though." 

She nodded. "Yes, of course. The poor thing. He must be so scared, not able to see anyone that he knows. I'm sure a friendly face would be highly welcome." 

Narcissa bit her tongue, willing herself to not retort that Bellatrix had been in Azkaban for nearly all of Draco's life and was anything but a familiar face. Instead, she opened the door. Draco was asleep on top of the covers and Narcissa announced loudly, "Draco, dear, your aunt has come to visit you." 

Stirring and rubbing his eyes, Draco began to sit up. "Aunt Andromeda?" He asked. 

"Oh, dear," Bellatrix said, swooping into the room and sitting on the edge of his bed. "Why, no, my dear nephew. It's your far better aunt, servant of our Dark Lord." 

Draco opened his eyes now and looked at Bellatrix. For a moment, Narcissa's heart skipped a beat as she watched, but her son was smart: he did not look her in the eyes, staring pointedly at the tip of her nose. 

Bellatrix smiled, but Narcissa knew her sister well enough to know that it was strained. And with the suspicion that Narcissa had from earlier talking to Snape, she wondered if Bellatrix was perhaps...frustrated that Draco wouldn't look her in the eyes. 

Filing that information away to tell to Snape later, Narcissa stepped further into the room, hoping to provide some sort of barrier between her son and her sister. 

__________

"So, obviously, someone from Hogwarts polyjuiced into someone else to pretend that they were from St. Mungos to try and get into Draco's head," Hermione was saying, the three of them sitting out on the open grounds of Hogwarts where they could be fairly certain no one could hear them. They were trying to get Hermione caught up in the little time they had before dinner. They hadn't been able to find her all day as she was furiously working on making the map copies. 

"The question is," she continued. "Who at Hogwarts is it? Because we know that they are from Hogwarts because the house elf." She thought for a moment and Harry and Ron stayed silent, letting her brain work. "Although, do we?" She spun around to face them. 

"Uhh...yes?" Ron said. "We just went over that." 

Hermione crossed her arms. "If this person was polyjuicing into the person from St. Mungos, then what would stop them from polyjuicing into someone from Hogwarts?" 

Ron threw his arms in the air. "Well then, it could be anybody!" 

After another moment, Hermione's shoulders dropped. "Although, then that would present the problem of...Maybe I'm wrong on that." 

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, not able to keep up with her brain. 

"Well, if the house elf found some stuff, they would go back to the person who asked them and what if they went back to the real person instead of the polyjuiced one? That would be too risky." 

"Unless there was only one," Ron pointed out. 

"That would mean that someone had gone missing." 

"We've seen it before." 

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking hard. "I suppose you're right. Okay, I'll keep thinking. But we should probably get going to dinner." 

"Yeah," Ron said. "If we're late Snape might get suspicious and give us another lecture on staying out of it." 

Later that night, after dinner, they trio were standing in the Room of Requirement, the students that they had recruited slowly streaming in in pairs. 

Then the next three pairs entered and the rest of the room collectively took a step back with each two. Harry just raised his eyebrows at the Slytherins. First had entered Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, followed by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, and then Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott. 

"What?" Parkinson snapped as everyone stared. "Just because we don't like Gryffindors on principle doesn't mean we're evil." 

Blaise crossed his arms. "And Draco's our best friend," he added quietly, gaze level with Harry's. In fact, all six were staring at Harry, silently challenging him to tell them to leave. 

Harry nodded. "You're in." 

From the other side of the room, Cormac sputtered. "Well, if they're in, then I'm out!" 

"I don't think so," Hermione said, tone sharp. "Now stop talking and listen." 

"It's your plan," Harry muttered to her. 

"But they aren't here to hear me," Hermione whispered back. "They're here for you, Harry." 

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked out at the small crowd. 

"You are all here today because you know that Voldemort has returned. And you're fed-up that the Ministry won't listen and won't do anything about it. We get it; we're all scared. Our school could be attacked. We're going about our lives being ignored by those in positions of authority and we won't stand for it anymore. We want to take matters into our own hands.

"I'm sorry to say, but our largest concern is a Death Eater attack on Hogwarts because I am here. We all know that Voldemort wants to kill me and that he's been trying for years. Most of you are in my year or above so you know exactly the ways in which Voldemort has schemed to kill me and the effects that it has had on many of you."

He quieted for a second. "Like those that we lost four years ago when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and the basilisk was released. Like the tragedy of what happened two years ago at the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Rest in peace to our dear friend Cedric." He bowed his head a moment and the silence in the room suddenly felt far heavier. 

Lifting his eyes, Harry continued. "It's not fair that we're all just kids and we have to go through this. That we're scared of Death Eaters attacking our school. That no one will do anything. We're going to put you into teams. A lot of this will be very similar to the DA, for those of you that were a part of that. And you all remember what happened to Marietta Edgecombe. I have it on good authority that Hermione has come up with something more...how would you put it, Hermione?" 

"More advanced and more permanent," she cheerily supplied. 

"Right," Harry continued. "So no snitching. Your jobs are to protect the people in your group, firstly. Secondly, we will be assigning other students for you all to keep watch over. For the most part, they will be in your house. Now, you're not watching them for any suspicious behavior or anything like that—although if you do see anything, please let me or Hermione or Ron know. You're watching them to make sure they are safe. The point of this initiative is not to try and end the war or spy on people. The point is for us to work as a community to keep each other safe, okay?"

A collective noise of affirmation answered Harry and he continued. "Now, your groups will also be on a rotating shift. Hermione has already coordinated the schedules. You'll meet here at the end of your shift to pass off to the next group. And when that happens, you will be given a map." 

Hermione held up a copy of the marauder's map. 

"This map has a lot of special properties, and I will let Hermione explain those to you. Listen carefully." 

Harry stepped back and let Hermione step up to do all the talking. 

While he was listening, he kept being increasingly distracted and so he kept creeping towards the side of the room, nearing the wall. It was just as he got there that he realized someone else had been doing the same. 

Parkinson moved to stand next to him against the wall. 

"Have you been in contact with Draco at all?" She asked, quietly. "They wouldn't let us in to the hospital wing to see him, but we know that you did. Which, fucking ridiculous, by the way, we're actually friends. How bad was the obliviate?" 

Harry sighed. "Bad. He doesn't remember Hogwarts at all. That's how far back it goes." 

"What?" She said, sharply enough to turn a few heads around them. Harry waved them back and they turned their attention again to Hermione. 

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "And so now he's back at the Manor." 

"How could they let him go back there? Do you know what's going on there?" 

They both continued to stare forward as they whispered. "Yeah, Death Eater HQ. I know." 

"Is he in danger?" 

For a moment Harry debated, but then let out a deep breath. "Yes. He is."

"Potter, we have to do something." 

Now, Harry looked at her and she turned as well, their eyes meeting. "We are." 

"No, you don't understand," Pansy said, urgently. "Draco," she glanced around, lowering her voice even more. The only people who seemed to be paying attention to them at all where the Slytherins and Ron. "Draco took the Dark Mark. He was forced." 

Harry dropped his gaze to the ground. "I know." 

"Do you know what he was asked to do?" Her voice was urgent and Harry could feel her staring at him. 

"Yes." 

"Fucking—“ Pansy cursed and he heard the hitch in her breath. " What are you doing to help, exactly?" 

"I can't say." 

Faster than Harry could react, Pansy's hand whipped up and closed around Harry's ear, tugging as she whispered furiously, "Potter, you listen to me and you listen good. That is my best friend in all the world. I can guarantee you even you and Weasley aren't as close as Draco and I. You don't know the shit that we have been through together, the shit I know about him and the shit he knows about me. I know every single one of his dark secrets and have since we were five. He is the only person in the world that I truly trust and I would more than lay down my life for him. He is my highest priority in the world. So you are going to tell me what the fuck is going on, do you understand me?" 

With that, she let go of his ear and Harry straightened up, rubbing the side of his head. "Chill out," he whispered. "I get it. And you don't know anything about me and Ron."

She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly still very heated. "Yeah, well, maybe that will make you understand just how much Draco means to me."

"I get it," Harry said again, still rubbing his ear. He looked away from her and saw Ron raising his eyebrows at Harry, silently asking if he needed any help. Harry waved him off before addressing Pansy again. "Look, we can all talk later, okay? Hermoine has plans beyond what she's talking about now. This is just phase one. And we're going to need help as we keep going. I'll keep you in on the information as much as I can." 

Still glaring, Pansy put her foot on top of Harry's and shifted her weight so that she was crushing his toes. Harry clamped his mouth shut, trying to not to yelp and draw attention. 

"No, Potter. You will keep me included in all information. I will use my own discretion on how much to tell the rest of my friend group, but you will tell me everything. I know more about Draco than Draco, even when he has his full memories. So not only am I your best asset, I am also the bitch that will not hesitate to fuck you up. This is my best friend you're playing with, Potter, and I won't stand for it." 

Harry smacked her arm, indicating he would talk but for her to get the fuck off of him.

Pansy shifted her weight back and turned away from Harry. 

"Okay," Harry whispered back. "Stick around after the meeting finishes and I'll let you know." 

"You know if I do that, all five of them will want to stay, too." 

"I can't tell all six of you all of this. I'm already going to get into trouble as it is just for telling you." Harry started to move back towards the front of the room as Hermoine was wrapping up her speech and finishing dividing people into groups and giving them their schedules and whatever else she needed to do. 

Then, Harry added, "Just say whatever you need to to them to get them to leave. Just the four of us will talk, okay?" 

Pansy just narrowed her eyes at him while he walked away. Harry wasn't sure he liked what that could mean. 

As he came back to the front of the room, Ron moved to his side, whispering to him, "What was that all about? Are you okay?" 

"She's worried about Draco. I agreed to tell her about some stuff if she stays after the meeting." 

Ron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "We can't! She has to know that!" 

"That's what I tried to tell her, but she nearly broke my entire foot." 

People were starting to leave the Room of Requirement, exiting in the same twos that they arrived in. 

Ron sighed, crossing his arms. "I guess we'll see how it goes."

Chapter Text

Pansy was tapping her toes as the last of the students filed out of the Room of Requirement. And then the door shut behind the last pair and she wasted no hesitation. 

"How could you let him be taken back to the Manor?" 

Harry held his hands up at his sides. "Believe, Parkinson, I tried . He locked himself in here the whole night before Lucius came to get him. He made his own choice." 

Stomping her feet, she crossed the room to Harry, pointing a finger at his chest. "I don't give a shit what he wants. He lost his memory! He doesn't know what's best for him right now! And he—!”

Harry grabbed her wrist, lowering her hand from where she was poking him in the chest. "I agree with you. Now would you chill out for half a second? I thought you had actual questions."

"We do," Blaise said. 

Coming to stand next to Harry, Ron crossed his arms. "I thought we agreed we would tell all of this to Parkinson only." 

Blaise shrugged. "Look, we got everyone else to leave. It's just the five of us. Theo, Millie, Vincent, and Greg love Draco just as much as we do, and that's why they agreed. But I have my own reasons for staying." 

"Okay," Harry said, glancing at his friends. He knew he couldn't tell them anything about the Order, but he had to tell them something. 

"How bad was the obliviate?" Parkinson asked. 

"Pretty bad," Harry answered. "He said that the last thing he remembered was packing for Hogwarts when he was eleven.. He doesn't remember being here at all." 

Parkinson covered her mouth with her hand. Zabini, however, looked a little unaffected but then Pansy glanced at him. 

"Blaise, it's okay. Blaise, pull yourself together. Take some deep breaths and it'll—“

Doubling over, Zabini vomited suddenly on the floor. When he finished, he pulled out his wand and vanished it away and Parkinson came over to rub his back while he coughed. 

"Oh, love. I really wish that this wasn't your reaction whenever you hear bad news." 

Blaise shook his head, straightening up. "I can't imagine what he must think about..."

She came to comfort him, putting her hand on his arm. "It's okay, Blaise. We'll find him and we—we’ll explain to him." 

But he shook her off. "No, you know Draco. He's going to jump to the worst. You know how he was feeling in those weeks coming up to Hogwarts. You were there! You told me yourself! So when he looks at his..." Blaise lowered his voice and Harry missed a word. "...and sees what's there..."

Harry could sense what they meant. "I know about the Dark Mark." 

Immediately, both Pansy and Blaise snapped their gazes to Harry's. "What?" Pansy asked. "No, you don't. Cause there isn't one. Nice try, Potter. You always want to make Draco out to be some evil—“

"Just stop, would you?" Harry cut in. He knew she was just trying to throw him off; her reaction meant she had clearly seen it. "I know; I saw it. And I'm not trying to make him out to be some evil person. I know he doesn't want that. I've seen the pain in his eyes at seeing the Mark. He doesn't want this; he didn't want this." 

Pansy crossed her arms, turning to face Harry and Blaise did the same, a shoulder behind her. "You don't understand, Potter," she spit. "You don't know him like we do. And you've made it clear that you don't understand by allowing him to go back there. The Manor is—“

"Death Eater Headquarters. Again, I know. He wanted to go back. I tried to stop him. But he was telling me that as far as he is supposed to know—you know, having been obliviated and everything—that as far as he knows, everything at his house is safe and why should he be worried? It would arouse suspicion if he didn’t go home." 

Ron nudged Harry, giving him a look that warned he was getting dangerously close to saying something about the order. 

"How do we know we can trust them?" Ron asked. 

Pansy cleared her throat and he turned to her instead. "Okay, how do we know we can trust you? You both have been running around this school saying things that clearly indicate—“

Harry held out a hand and stopped him. "I was there that night," Harry said. "When Voldemort came back. I was there and I saw Lucius and I saw Crabbe and Goyle's parents, too. Nott's father is a known Death Eater. How can we trust you? Aren't the Parkinson's part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?" 

"Look, I don't have anything against wizards and witches who aren't purebloods. My family aren't Death Eaters. As the story goes, my grandmother was in the same house and year as the Dark Lord. She hated him; thought he was a total creep. She maintains that he tried to hit on her once and my grandfather beat him up. I'm not sure how true the story is, but nevertheless, the Parkinsons have a free pass for not being affiliated with the Death Eaters because we’re being loyal to our matriarch.”

They both looked to Blaise. "The Zabinis are above this entire matter." 

Ron raised an eyebrow and Blaise huffed. "Look, if you must know, I'm a half-blood. It's not common knowledge, but, it's the truth. The span of time between when husband number two died and husband number three walked on the scene was close enough that no one but my mother knew who my father was. And since one was a pureblood and one was a muggle-born, my mother decided to not say anything on the matter." 

"That doesn't mean shit!" Ron yelled. "We know what you have both said in the past. Just because your families aren't actively Death Eaters, doesn't mean that we can trust you. You've still said racist things." 

"Weasley, you really don't understand, do you?" Blaise started. "It isn't about what we and our families believe. It's about protecting our own. Look at the circles our families run in. We don’t know which of our family friends are aligned with the Dark Lord and which aren't. After my fourth year, my mother told me to say a few things—not too many, but a few—against muggle-born and half-blood wizards and witches. Because the Dark Lord was back now and we had to prepare for the possibility that he would win. 

"The Ministry won't even recognize that he's back! How are they supposed to fight him when they won't even acknowledge that? Too busy hiding with their heads in the sand to do anything to stop him. Families like yours, Weasley, if the Dark Lord wins, have their fate sealed already. But we've been family friends for generations with people who are now Death Eaters and aligned with the Dark Lord. We've put ourselves where we have with carefully placed words for any possibility. The Dark Lord is defeated? We don't have the Mark; we were never with him. The Dark Lord wins? At least we've spared our lives !" 

Ron shook his head. "So you're fine with people thinking that you're racist for the rest of your lives?"

Pansy jumped in. "I don't think you're quite getting the picture , Weasley. If you've publicly aligned yourself against the Dark Lord and he wins, you have signed your own death warrant. If he's defeated, the only thing that's hurt is your reputation. And if you're alive because you made the choice to walk that line, you can repair your reputation. You can make an effort to show that you have 'changed' no matter if it's what you really believed in the first place. But you're alive to do that. And you're not in Azkaban, either. So if I have to drop a few slurs when I'm a teenager to spare the life of my six-year-old sister, then I don't care if people think that I'm racist for the rest of my life. I can deal with that. But there's no helping it if the Dark Lord wins and I'm dead."

"And what are we supposed to do?" Blaise asked. "Try and join your precious Order? We're Slytherins. No one believes us anyway if we were to say we're against the Dark Lord. Look, as for our friends, Vincent and Greg want to stay out of the whole thing. Theo literally throws up if any conflict is mentioned but he's still managed to make it clear that he doesn't like the Dark Lord. Millie I'm not really sure. But that's not the point; we're not here to ask you things about Death Eaters and the Order and the war. We just care about Draco ." 

Harry turned to his friends and they conferred, taking a step away from the two while they did so. 

"Look, I hate to be one to say it, but everyone expects me to, so I'm gonna," Ron said. "We can't trust them." 

Hermione pulled a face. "Ron, I know that you're right, but it's like Zabini said: they're not here for information on the war. They're just being good friends. They just care about him." 

They both looked to Harry. He thought for a moment. "I think we're gonna be needing some help. And all six of them showed up to help protect the school." 

Ron shook his head, clearly disagreeing. "How can they say that they want to stay out of the whole thing? To have the privilege of saying that when there are people dying because of this?" 

"I know what you mean, Ron, really I do. But I can see some logic in what Zabini was saying. I mean, think about the circles that their families run in. If they said or did anything even remotely against the Dark Lord, they would be turned in to him. Possibly tortured, even now. Not everyone in this war is in the same position. We either fight or die. They either stay quiet or die. And, besides, at the end of the day, Zabini's the same blood-status as me. If anyone found that out, he and his mum could be in danger. Hermione, what do you think? You're the one that's faced the most discrimination from them and their friend-group about blood-status." 

She took a deep breath. "Obviously, the things they said we're wrong. And I never thought I would excuse them for any reason, but I do understand a little bit. It doesn't mean the things they said weren't hurtful, but I get it. We're all sixteen! We shouldn't have to take a stand that we would have to die for! I think you're right Harry, about their situation being different. If they speak out against the Dark Lord, that's all their friends and family. They'll be turned on for sure. If they say nothing, they're under suspicion from both sides. But if they say just enough to make sure that they can get through the war without the Death Eaters killing them, then no matter who wins, at least they're alive. I say we don't tell them anything about the Order, but we can talk about Draco with them. They're his best friends so they deserve that much." 

Harry nodded. "Okay, I'm good with that. Ron?" 

Grumbling, Ron nodded his head and the three separated, turning back to Zabini and Parkinson. 

"Okay, there are some things we should tell you about Draco," Harry said. 

"There are also some things we should tell you," Pansy said. She shared a look with Blaise and he nodded to her to continue. "You've asked about how we all feel about the war and that's understandable. But you should know how Draco feels." 

Blaise ran a hand over hers in comfort. "Draco hates himself for taking that Dark Mark. Nearly killed himself." 

"He told me," Harry whispered. 

"But he was obliviated. He wouldn't know." 

Harry took a deep breath. "That was what I was going to tell you. Draco has gotten a few memories back." 

"But that's impossible!" Pansy said. 

"I know. Hermione has a theory." 

Hermione stepped up. "We think his amnesia isn't solely a result of the obliviate. There's no way an obliviate cast by a sixteen-year-old could be that strong when they weren't actively trying to rid him of that much. We think some of it is from the spell and that some of it is from head trauma." 

"Shit," Blaise said. "He did hit his head pretty hard. When he went down, he hit it on the corner of a table leg." 

"Does that mean he'll get the rest back?" Pansy asked. 

"I'm not entirely sure," Hermione said. "I don't know to what extent the memory loss is from which cause. And I don't know enough about medicine and the brain to try and figure anything out. I need to do more research and, for once, the Hogwarts library isn't any help at all because they're all on magic. I need muggle books: medicine, head trauma, things like that."

"Okay," Pansy said. "So we go to a muggle library." 

"Yes, but how?" Hermione asked. 

"Go to a university. They're bound to have a good section full of that kind of stuff. And they're usually twenty-four hour libraries so we wouldn't even have to break in anywhere. Just sneak off one night after dinner." 

"Or," Blaise began. "There's a Hogsmeade trip in two weeks. We can sneak away from the group and call the Knight Bus." 

"Yeah, but we're clearly Hogwarts students," Ron said. "They might rat us out and refuse to take us anywhere." 

"Not for the right price," Blaise smiled. "The Knight Bus is wonderful for discretion and doesn't turn down passengers." 

"Who says we would be able to get back in time? When they go to take everyone back to Hogwarts, they'll know we're missing. I don't think we would have enough time." 

Harry shook his head. "Ron's right. Not enough time. Too risky." 

"Well, it's not like they'll come and pick us up at Hogwarts," Blaise said. 

And that was when Harry got the idea. "No, we'll have them pick us up in Hogsmeade. We can take the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack!" 

"Excuse me?" Pansy said, asking for clarification. 

"Under the Whomping Willow there's a secret passageway that leads into Hogsmeade, directly to the Shrieking Shack. It's where Professor Lupin would go when he had to change as a professor and as a student. It's actually how it got its name. We'll sneak down to there, leave the Shrieking Shack and call the Knight Bus." 

"Okay," Ron said. "That sounds like a plan. But we still have to get into the library. Don't you need a student ID of some kind? How are we gonna get in?" 

"Easy," Pansy shrugged. "Tits." 

Ron looked like he wanted to take a step back. "Excuse me?"

"It's a university library. You're bound to have at least one person on duty who's some guy who's never seen a woman naked in his life and I'm sure if I wear a low-cut enough top he won't see you four sneaking past." 

"Um, you're...sixteen and I'm really uncomfortable with—Do you even have muggle clothes? Either of you?" 

She glared at him. "We're witches, Weasley. We'll transfigure some." 

Ron shook his head. "Come up with a different plan." 

"Fine. I'll just kiss Hermione then. Two girls making out is sure to turn heads." 

"Okay," Ron started, yelling. "You are not kissing my girlfriend! " 

"Well do you have a better plan?”

Everyone looked to Hermione where she was staring at them all in wonder and amazement. "You Slytherins are so good at being cunning and coming up with solutions that sometimes you forget what is so obviously in front of you. They'll likely have guest passes. We'll just tell them we're working on a school project and are trying to get some research done." 

"Ha!" Ron yelled. 

Pansy's shoulders dropped. "Whatever. I'm still wearing the shirt." 

Blaise waved her off, changing the topic. "We might only have one chance to do this and there's likely going to be a lot to go through. We don't even really know what we're looking for yet. We might find nothing at all. What I'm saying is we're gonna need all the help we can get. Do you want us to ask any of the rest of our group, or do you want us to keep it a secret? We can do either. And you can have until we leave to think about it." 

Again, they all looked to Hermione. She sighed. "I know we could probably use the help, but five of us sneaking away is less likely to be noticed than nine of us. And you two have barely won enough of our trust to be included in this as it is." 

Blaise nodded. "I understand." 

"Do you have anything else you can tell us about Draco?" Pansy asked. 

Harry looked at her and in that moment, he felt her bolstering confidence drop. Instead, he saw her concern. 

"Please," she said. "We really aren't trying to get any information from you about the war. He's our best friend. We're here because we love him." Pansy glanced to the side to Blaise. "We love him so much. Is there anything else?"

In his heart, Harry wanted so bad to be able to tell her about the mirror. But he knew that he couldn't; it would give too much away. Instead, he said, "I'll let you know if I remember anything else." 

Seemingly satisfied, Blaise nodded and gave a small tug on Pansy's arm, indicating she let it go. 

"So it's settled then?" He asked. "This Saturday, we'll go. What time do you want us to meet you by the Whomping Willow? We'll be discreet." 

"After breakfast," Hermione said. "That way we all show our faces like any normal day before we disappear. And we should try our best to be back by dinner." 

The rest of the group nodded and then Zabini and Parkinson left the room of requirement. 

Harry looked to his friends and ran a hand across his face, rubbing his eyes. "How d'you think this is gonna go?" 

Chapter Text

"How have you been feeling, dear?" Bellatrix asked, taking Draco's cheeks in her hands. "Any better, I hope? I know that this has been a lot for you." 

She released him and Draco subtly moved away from her. 

"I think," Bellatrix continued. "That what would be the best for you and your memory is to get right back to where you had left off in life. I think we should send you back to Hogwarts so you can keep doing what you had been doing." She smiled wickedly. "So you can keep serving our Dark Lord." 

Narcissa sat down on Draco's other side, pulling his hand to her. "Bella, I really think Draco needs his rest for right now. And for recovering from an obliviate, what is most important is that we reintroduce him slowly to how his current life is so that—“

Bellatrix turned sharply to her sister, the smile gone. "There is nothing more important than serving our Dark Lord. The Dark Lord has chosen your son for an important and special mission. He cannot simply abandon it. There are things he must do. ”

"Severus will take care of it." 

Draco felt like he was being increasingly left out of the conversation and he knew that he was supposed to kill Dumbledore. He could only imagine how much more lost he would be had he truly not had all of his memories. 

"I told you, he is not to be trusted," Bellatrix hissed. 

"And I told you that the Dark Lord trusts him. Are you questioning the judgement of the Dark Lord?" Narcissa returned, her voice strong. And she didn't bother to quiet it any, despite where they were. 

"Absolutely not!" 

The two started at each other across Draco for a moment and the young man felt himself increasingly wanting to get as far away from the sisters as possible. 

Narcissa straightened. "Severus will take care of it. Because of the obliviate, Draco is of no use to the Dark Lord."

"Yes, he is! He is of more use! No one will suspect him! And he has to do more than what you made Severus promise to do." 

Bellatrix turned to Draco, once more taking his face in her hands. "Draco, darling, look at me." 

Draco looked at her, trying desperately to keep his eyes on her forehead or her nose. He knew he couldn't trust anyone. 

"No, no, in my eyes, dear." 

His hand still being held by his mothers, Draco tried not to wince as her grip became tighter. 

"Bella, what do you think you're—“

Bellatrix did not stop staring at Draco's eyes, trying to cause him to move so that she may catch them. "I have to use ligilimency, Draco, dear. I have to know how far you have gotten on that extremely important vanishing cabinet. And then I need you to go back and finish it. So look me in the eyes, dearie, and I'll—“

Before she could finish her sentence, Bellatrix fell over to the side as if unconscious. 

Draco's mouth hung open, staring at his aunt in shock before he realized she was just hit with a full body bind. Then, he also realized that must have come from his mother and, mouth open, he turned to her. 

"Mother, what—“

"Bellatrix, I will not have you using liglimency on my son's fragile mind. Now, are you going to stop trying? Can I release you now?" 

Narcissa deemed it safe and released the body bind, Bellatrix immediately standing up and brushing herself off, looking at her sister with disdain. 

"Cissy, I am shocked and I—“

"Will not be telling the Dark Lord," Narcissa finished. "Do you think he wants to hear about this kind of thing? Two sisters getting into a fight? I really don't think that would help our family's standing with him any right now, bothering such an important wizard with such meaningless trifles. Don't you think, Bella?" 

Mouth still hanging open, Draco stared at his mother. 

__________

Harry was so nervous, he couldn't eat. 

And he didn't know what was up with that because they had done tons of stuff that was against the rules. Sneaking off the school grounds to call the night bus to go to a library wasn't even an issue. 

Really, he was nervous because he hadn't heard from Draco all week. 

It made him want to pull out the mirror and try and contract Draco but he knew that he couldn't do that. It could be disastrous! And he wasn't going to do anything that could put Draco at risk. So he just had to be patient and wait. But he couldn't help thinking that something had happened...

"Harry." Ron's voice pulled him out of his head. "You have to eat something, mate, we aren't going to be back until dinnertime. Cmon, eat up! We've got a whole day of research to do. Gotta fuel that brain!" 

For a moment, Harry just stared at him. But then Ron started piling food on his plate and he obligingly ate, knowing that his best friend was right. 

They were planning on meeting the Slytherins down by the Whomping Willow after breakfast. Just Parkinson and Zabini, though. As for what they were looking for...well, they were all hoping Hermione would lead them. And that she would know it when she saw it. 

Hermione was on the opposite of Harry at the moment: looking completely calm, like nothing was the bother. 

Harry supposed that, for her, this was a mostly normal day. Getting into trouble because of her friends? Pretty average. Studying? Yup, every day. So how was this much different? 

But Harry looked at the food on his plate and just felt like he wanted to throw up. He couldn't stop thinking about—surprise, surprise— Draco . 

In that big house full of Death Eaters, danger at every turn. And without a wand to defend himself! 

And then, Harry knew what he wanted to do: he was going to order a wand and he was going to get it to Draco somehow. 

How was the question, really. He couldn't very well just send it with Snape, now, could he? 

Glancing over his shoulder, Harry checked to see if Parkinson and Zabini had slipped away yet and that was when it hit him: 

The two of them could probably be allowed to go and visit Draco. Poor, sickly obliviated child being visited by his fellow pure-blood (as far as anyone knew) friends? Seemed like it would pass Death Eater inspection. He decided he should bring it up to Parkinson—she seemed the brains of the group—so he started shoveling food into his mouth as he saw the duo stand and start making excuses to their friends about leaving. 

"Okay, whoa, I said eat, not inhale!" 

Harry paid Ron no mind, just finished his food and turned to his friends. "Are you two ready? We've got a lot of studying to do today. Let's get going!" 

Hermione glared at him and it was then that Harry noticed Dean and Seamus were laughing. "Did you just say studying?" Seamus asked. "Harry, since when are you so eager to run off and study ? Maybe you've been spending too much time with Hermione."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Come flying with us today, instead. What studying do you even have to do? I don't even know of any papers or anything that are coming due anytime soon in any of the classes we have together or—“

"It's potions," Hermione said, cutting him off. "You all know how bad Harry is at potions. In fact, he was doing remedial potions with Snape not too long ago and he was only just able to get out of that. I'm tutoring him so he doesn't have to wind up spending more time with Snape." 

Harry was amazed at how easily she had lied. How had he never noticed that before? Meanwhile Harry was over here claiming Roonil Wazlib was his nickname. How could he learn to lie like her? 

Then he remembered Draco was also incredibly good at lying. Maybe it was just a smart-people thing. 

Hey, wait! Did that mean he wasn't smart? 

Hermione grabbed him by the arm and practically pulled him out of his seat because he wasn't listening to her telling him that they should go now to get his cauldron to practice potions. 

"Right, right," Harry mumbled before following his friends out of the Great Hall. 

Once they were safely down a side-hall that was empty as far as they could see, Hermoine whipped around to face him. "Harry, what was that? You almost totally gave us away! And now Dean and Seamus think that you're actually studying!" 

He shrugged. "I don't know, okay? I'm out of it today. I haven't heard from Draco all week and it's really freaking me out so I want to go and try and get some of this done. I just want to feel like I'm doing something, okay?"

Ron put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Let it go, Hermione. I think they bought it just fine. And if they didn't, it's Dean and Seamus. Seamus'll probably forget about it anyway and if they don't, they know better than to keep prying. They know the position we're all in with the war and everything. Don't worry about it." 

Seemingly calmed by Ron, Hermione nodded and the three headed to leave the building, checking that the coast was clear with the map. But just before they left, Harry stopped short at the door. 

"Hermione!" 

She turned to find him staring at her with wide, panicked eyes. "We just set up the school watch! And gave them all maps like these! Blocking the known exits on and off of the grounds! Whoever is on duty right now and when we come back are going to see what we're doing! That we're sneaking off campus." 

Ron slapped his forehead with his palm. "We're such idiots. How did we not see this?" 

"Parkinson and Zabini are already out there!" Harry continued. "They probably have already been seen and whoever is watching right now is probably following them because they think they're suspicious!" 

"We're not idiots, Potter," Harry heard from beside him and he jumped nearly out of his skin, turning to look for the source of the voice. He knew from the way that it sounded that it was Zabini, but he couldn't see him. Did they have an invisibility cloak as well?

Then, just in front of them, Parkinson and Zabini disillusioned themselves. 

"We figured it out around the same time you did," Parkinson said. "Just before we left the castle. Can't believe that out of the three of us, none of us thought of that."

"There are five of us," Ron said. 

She waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, but I meant between Granger, Blaise, and myself. Can't believe none of the three of us didn't notice that sooner." She crossed her arms. "So who's on the watch right now?" 

Hermione reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small piece of parchment. 

"Do you just keep that in there?" Ron said. "What is this, a spy movie?" 

"What's a spy movie?" Pansy asked. 

Ignoring them all, Hermione read the schedule. "Right now, it's actually Neville, Ginny, and Luna. So if we can quickly find them and let them know, we can sneak off just fine." 

"But what about coming back? Who's on watch then?" Zabini asked. 

"Oh no..." Hermione said. They all just looked at her expectantly. After a moment, she frowned up at them. "Cormac's in that group." 

Blaise cursed and Pansy rolled her eyes. 

"Well," Ron said. "We're fucked." 

"No, we're not." Harry spoke up. "Let's real quick go and find Neville and Ginny and Luna and let's explain enough. They'll trust us and they'll take care of it. They've got our backs in this, I know it." 

Ron nodded, clearly agreeing. Hermione looked hesitant but not because she didn't trust the three. 

Pansy and Blaise, on the other hand....Well, they didn't look so sure. 

"What?" Ron asked. "You got a problem with the three of them?" 

"Look," Pansy started. "Ginny might be the hottest woman I've ever laid eyes on and I know she would be entirely willing to just walk up and give that Cormac shit two black eyes, but that doesn't mean I trust the other ones. Lovegood is—no offense—not really in touch with reality most of the time." 

"And doesn't Longbottom carry around, like, fifteen Rememberalls? How is that a hallmark of a reliable person?" 

Harry crossed his arms, mirroring Parkinson's stance. "We can go to the library without you." 

After a tense stare between the two of them, Pansy rolled her eyes. "Fine. Lead the way, Golden Boy." 

Harry cringed. 

"What?" She asked. 

He shrugged. "It's just so weird to hear someone say that who isn't Draco. Weird to not hear it in his voice." 

Harry turned and walked away, map out in front of him, to lead them to find Neville, Ginny, and Luna. 

It didn't take them long; the three were in the library, looking like they were taking turns watching the map and studying. Harry was the one to approach them. Ron and Hermione followed him, hanging back a few feet, and Pansy and Blaise stayed outside the library so that they weren't all seen together. 

"Hey, Gin," Harry said, and the three of them all turned. 

"Oh, hello, Harry!" Luna said, at just the right volume to be loud for the library without being loud enough to get her reprimanded by Pince. 

"Hi, Luna," Harry smiled. "Okay, I need you three to do something really important for us." 

Ginny raised an eyebrow and Neville turned to Harry. "Sure! Of course, Harry." 

"Five of us are headed to sneak off campus. It's...important. We have our reasons. We're going to be gone most of the day and we're planning on being back around dinnertime. Problem is, while I know that we can trust the three of you to not raise any alarms and to not ask questions about what the five of us are doing, I don't think the same is going to be said for who is on watch when we're coming back."

"Which is who?" Neville asked. 

Harry cringed. "It's Cormac's team. I need you three to somehow...I don't know, fix it I guess. Cover for the five of us somehow. I don't know exactly when we'll be back so I can't get any more specific. But this is really important and we don't have time to deal with it now; we have to get going as soon as possible."

"Sure thing, Harry!" Luna said. 

But Harry noticed Ginny looked a little suspicious. "Who's this 'the five of us?'" She asked. "Because outside of Hermione and Ron, I'm pretty sure the next two people you would ask for something important would be me and Neville. Or am I wrong?" 

This was the difficult part. While it would be impossible to try and convince Cormac and people like him that the Slytherins were helping and that they meant no harm, it would be easier to convince Ginny, Neville, and Luna. But easier than impossible didn't necessarily mean...well, easy. 

"It's Parkinson and Zabini," he said. 

Immediately, Neville's face changed. "Harry, what?" 

"I'm not sure I follow," Luna said. 

Harry waved his hand for a moment, indicating they stop talking and let him explain. "Look, I can't really get into details and, like I said, we have to get going. But I promise that you can trust the two of them—at least with what we're headed to do today. The three of us still aren't sure where we stand on trusting the two of them fully, yet, but for this, I know that we can trust them." He took a deep breath. "And I need the three of you to trust me about that." 

After a moment, Neville and Luna both looked to Ginny. With narrowed eyes, she started at Harry for a little while before sighing. "Alright, fine," she said. "We'll deal with Cormac. If you can find any way to give us a heads up on when you're going to be coming back, that would be much appreciated—“

"Thank you, thank you," Harry rushed out, but then he realized he had cut Ginny off. She was still talking. 

"—On one condition, Harry." 

Shit. Here it was. "What's that?" 

She leaned forward, looking at him from the other side of the table. "You have to explain yourself when you get back. I know right now you've got to go do...whatever, but I damn well want an explanation why we're helping out Parkinson and Zabini. I trust you enough to let it go on faith, but when you've got the time, you better tell me just why I should trust you on this, you got that?" 

Harry really didn't want to have to explain the entire situation to Ginny, but he also knew that he had to agree. He needed their help and he would likely need their help again, which meant he would have to give his word now and then make good on it later. Probably later this evening. But it was the best that they had. 

"Course, Gin. Thanks again, you three." 

Ginny lifted her hand in a wave and Harry turned around, trying his best not to run out of the library. 

As the three came into the hall, Parkinson straightened up from where she had been leaning against a wall, examining her nails and she and Zabini fell in line next to them. Harry had the Marauder's map out in front of them to make sure they didn't run into anyone on their way, but soon they were out on the grounds with no issues. 

The group made their way to the Whomping Willow. Ron went ahead, leading the group, Hermione just behind him. Pansy and Blaise walked behind, being led into the passage that would let them out at the Shrieking Shack. 

Harry was just about to step in after Zabini, when he heard his name. Frantic, he checked around them, but then he realized it was coming from the mirror in his pocket. 

Heart racing, he whipped the mirror out. "Draco!"

Chapter Text

The others were already in the passageway and Harry had to make a quick decision: follow them, or stay and talk to Draco. 

Cursing to himself, he moved away from the whomping willow and turned his attention to Draco. He could catch up with them later. 

"What's going on, Draco?" he asked. "You haven't contacted me at all. I was worried." 

Draco's hair was out of place and he looked frazzled. 

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. 

Draco took a deep breath. "Yes, Harry, I'm alright. Look, I need you to go find Snape. Now, Harry. I need you to tell him it's Bellatrix. Whoever's been trying to get into my head, it's Bellatrix." 

"Why do you think that? Not that I don't believe yo—I do. But what's happened?" 

Another deep breath. "The other day she came in here with my mother and she kept trying to look in my eyes and admitted to wanting to use ligilimency on me. My mother pushed her away. Since then, Bellatrix has tried to use every opportunity to get to me and try to look into my eyes. I don't know what intentions she has, but it's Bellatrix, so I know that they aren't good. Harry, I can't talk for long." 

Harry had noticed he kept looking over his shoulder as he talked, quickly and quietly. 

"Okay, Draco, I can do that. I can go tell Snape." 

"She doesn't trust Snape," Draco continued. "She's said as much. And she's done her best to keep Snape away from me every time he's been here. I can't contact him. I really need you to do this, Harry, as soon as possible." 

Harry nodded. "Of course, Draco. Everything else goes to the side. Your safety is the most important. Is there anything else?" 

"No, and I should go." Draco looked back at the mirror, staring into Harry's eyes. 

"Okay, I'll go and find Snape." 

"Oh, wait, Harry, there...there is one more thing."

"What is it, Draco?" 

With a couple quick breaths, Draco rushed out, "Harry, I know that I don't remember a lot about the years that we've known each other, but from the second I woke up, I knew that I knew you and I knew that what I was feeling wasn't new. I took one look at you and I knew that I've had feelings for you for a really long time. And I don't know what's happening and I don't know how long it'll be until I can talk to you again and I know that I'm not safe here and that you're not safe there and that anything could happen to either of us at any time. And I know that I'm not looking for you to do anything other than just know." Now, he met Harry's eyes once more. "Just know that I have feelings for you. Strong feelings and a lot of them and I—“

Draco's gaze snapped to look over his shoulder and the connection cut off. 

Before Harry had a chance to say it back. 

Sighing, he put the mirror back in his pocket and glanced to the whomping willow next to him. His friends would just have to continue on without him. He had something else he had to go do. 

He started back towards the castle. 

___________

"Where is he?" Hermione asked, looking around as the four stood in the shrieking shack. 

"He was right behind me," Blaise answered. "Actually, now that I think about it, I don't know if I saw him in the passage, just before it." 

Shifting her weight back and forth between her feet, Hermione glanced back at the exit. "We should go back through and look for him." She started towards it, but Pansy stopped her. 

"No," Pansy said. "We've waited minutes; he obviously isn't coming. He could have been spotted by a professor. Potter could already be in detention by now." 

"Pansy's right," Blaise said, crossing his arms. "We can't wait for him." 

Ron stepped up, putting himself directly in front of Blaise. "No. We're waiting for him." 

"Did you not hear a word Pansy just said? Are you going to completely forfeit this?" He took a step back, shaking his head and scoffing. "I knew we shouldn't have agreed to work with you lot for this. You two don't actually care about Draco. You don't give a fuck about him; you're just doing this because Harry asked you to. And if Harry was here, he would tell us to go on without him because he knows that we need to find the information that we need. And he knows that if he got caught, then this might be our only chance. So we have to go now. For Draco." 

Pansy shrugged. "He's right. It's what would Potter would tell us to do. And he's right that you two don’t give a shit about Draco."

Blaise turned towards the door of the Shrieking Shack. "We're going." He looked over his shoulder. "You can either come with us or not. But I'm calling the Knight Bus." 

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance. Ron clearly still wanted to wait for Harry, but Hermione wasn't looking so sure. 

"You won't get very far in your research without us," Ron said. "You probably won't even get into the library. You don't know anything about the muggle world." 

Blaise shrugged. 

"You're right, Ron," Hermione said and took a step towards the door. Towards Pansy and Blaise. 

"Hermione!" Ron said, scandalized. "Are you serious?" 

She sighed. "Ron, I don't know why, but Harry's clearly not coming. And he probably expects us to keep going. This is important. We have to figure out how to get Draco's memory back. If you aren't going to do it for Draco, then do it for Harry." 

Hating himself, Ron closed his eyes and walked to the door of the Shrieking Shack and opening it. 

__________

"Professor?" Harry opened the door of Snape's office. 

Snape was sitting at his desk and he looked up from the parchment he was reading to see Harry standing in the doorway. 

"Mr. Potter?" He asked, clearly also asking what he was doing there. 

Harry stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. "It's about Draco," he said. 

At this, Snape stood. "You've heard from him?" 

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I know that you haven't been able to get to him. He told me that I need to tell you that Bellatrix is trying to get into his head with ligilimency. She keeps trying to get him alone and look into his eyes. And she's been keeping you from seeing him because she doesn't trust you." 

Snape sighed. "Bellatrix has been onto me for a while." He glanced to Harry. "Thank you for telling me this. You're dismissed, Mr. Potter." 

For a second, Harry didn't move. "That's all?" 

Turning, Snape sent him a cutting glance as he walked back to his desk. 

"Professor, with respect," Harry began. "But we have to do something!" 

Snape sat down at his desk once more. "Potter, there is no 'we.' I need you to understand that. You are to stay out of this. I will—“

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?!" Harry yelled. "One moment they tell me that I'm some Chosen One who's been prophesied as the only person who can kill Voldemort and the next  I'm being told to stay out of anything regarding the war? Voldemort came back , I was strapped to a fucking gravestone in a graveyard when it happened and the ministry doesn't even believe me! Doesn't want to acknowledge that he's back! I watched Cedric die! I dueled Vodlemort and we all know that I'm going to have to kill him, yet no one wants to tell me anything and it's bullshit !" 

Taking a few deep breaths, Harry started to calm down and unclench his fists at his sides. 

"And I'm not going to sit here and do nothing while another innocent person is at risk."

Snape just stared at him, letting Harry calm down more. 

When Harry got his breathing under control and let some of the tension out of his shoulders, he said, "I'm sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have yelled." He shrugged. "Two weeks detention sound good? Or three?" 

Crossing his hands on top of his desk, Snape leaned forward. "Mr. Potter, I'm not doing nothing. But these things must be handled with care. We must be delicate in order to not reveal our position. I understand that you're experiencing frustration, but you all of people need to be the most protected in this scenario. Do you not see that, Mr. Potter?" 

"What are you talking about?" Harry sighed. "I'm just some kid that—“

"We have to be smart about this, Mr. Potter. You have to be the one to kill the Dark Lord. That is the prophecy and you know that. Until the time when we are ready to make that move, you have to be kept out of danger. There is no one the Death Eaters want to kill more than you." 

"But, Dumbledore—"

"Not even Dumbledore. You, Harry. They want to kill you." 

Thinking about it, Harry supposed that Snape was right. But that didn't mean that it felt right and his fists started to clench at his sides again. "But that doesn't mean I can just sit and wait for that moment while my friends die." 

"That's because you're a good person, Mr. Potter. But you need to understand that if you act rashly, we will all die. Now...You are dismissed, Mr. Potter." 

Fully aware that he was not given detention for yelling at Snape, Harry just nodded and turned to open the door. It was not the time to push it. 

But then Harry closed the door behind him and he knew that no matter what Snape said, Harry couldn't just stand idly by. Especially when it was Draco that was in danger. 

And Draco had said that he liked him! 

Harry walked out of the dungeons, it finally hitting him that Draco had said that. He had been a little preoccupied with the other things Draco had been talking about and the way that he looked like he hadn't slept in two days at least, but now Harry was actually realizing that Draco...

Draco liked him! 

Despite everything that was going on, Harry felt like he could yell and jump. 

But then he remembered some of the other things Draco had said at the same time, talking about how he didn't know what was going to happen and when they would be able to talk to each other again. With the way that Draco had said it...it was like he made sure to confess it now because he wasn't sure if he would ever have another chance. 

And that made his decision for him. Harry was done staying put and doing nothing. 

He turned down a hallway, going the opposite way of Gryffindor tower. He knew what he was going to do. Well...not really, but he knew his next step. 

__________

"Can we have a few guest passes, please?" Hermione asked politely at the front desk. "We're working on a school project and have some research we'd like to do. Just for today." 

"Oh, uh..." The eighteen-year-old muggle boy at the front desk looked around awkwardly. "Yeah sure, I guess. I don't see why not." He glanced over at Pansy and gave a shy smile. "Is there anything I can help you with?" 

"Ew, dude," Ron said. "She's sixteen and a lesbian." 

"Aw, give him a break," Pansy said, smiling at the boy. "I mean, the girls and I look good, who can blame him?" 

"The girls?" Ron asked, confused. 

Blaise rolled his eyes. "She means her tits, Weasley." 

Ron looked disgusted but also vaguely like he might cry. "I don't like hanging out with you guys." 

Unfazed, Hermione looked back to the front desk clerk. "Yes, please, thank you, can you direct us to the medical journals? Specifically neurology." 

Now, he definitely wasn't looking at Pansy any more. "Medical journals? You know a lot of that stuff is going to be way too complicated for..." 

From behind Hermione, Ron started vigorously shaking his head and the guy while Blaise did the same and Pansy cringed. Ron made a frantic throat-cutting motion at him and the desk clerk looked back to Hermione, changing his tone. 

"...most people. They would be too complicated for most people but you seem like a very bright young woman and so I'm sure you'll do fine. Uh, third floor. Take a left off of the lift. Just be sure to keep quiet. The green spaces are okay for noise, the yellow are quiet spaces, and the red are silent. Most of the third floor is yellow."

Hermione nodded politely. "Thank you very much. Have a nice day." She turned and waved her hand towards the group, indicating that they follow her. 

As they headed towards the lift, Ron turned towards Pansy and said in a harsh whisper, "You disgust me sometimes, Parkinson." 

"Granger," Pansy said, getting her attention. "Be honest. Do you think my tits look good?" 

Hermione blushed, turning back around and keeping walking. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Pansy said. Then, she looked back to Ron. "See? Even your girlfriend can confirm. So you can just admit it, Weasley. You're intimidated by how hot I am. I could steal your girl in a heartbeat." 

Ron spluttered. "Steal my—?! You could not!" 

"Is that a challenge? You know lesbians are better at this kind of thing because we actually understand women, you know being women and all that. And as a guy, there are just some things you can't understand." 

"Can we get in the lift?" Blaise asked, looking at them both sternly. 

"Not until Weasley admits he's just intimidated that I'm hot." 

From the look on his face, Hermione could tell that Blaise was...so done. She stepped into the lift and he held it open with an arm, gesturing for them both to walk in. "What is all this posturing? You're both sixteen-year-old virgins who have only ever kissed two girls. Get in the lift. ”

Properly shamed, they both hung their heads and walked past Blaise. He stepped in after them and the doors closed. 

As they started to move up, Blaise faced the doors and spoke. "Now, I expect that when these doors open, we are going to do what we came here to do as if we have never fought about anything in our lives. We don't have time to waste on your stupid bickering. Are we clear?" 

Pansy groaned and Ron remained silent. 

"Are we clear?" Blaise asked again. 

Heaving a sigh, Pansy said, "Yes, Blaise." 

"Weasley?" 

"Fine." 

The doors opened and Hermione led them out, giving Blaise a very approving nod on her way. 

She led them to section of medical journals, which was practically the entire floor. "Okay," she whispered, turning to the group. "Anything about memory, amnesia, the hippocampus, the neo-cortex, or the amygdala." 

"The what-dala?" Ron asked. 

"The amygdala. It mostly relegates fear. The hippocampus is the main memory function, but the neo-cortex and the amygdala also play parts. Everyone got it?" 

Blaise nodded. "Yup. Amnesia." 

Swinging her bag around, Hermione dug through before handing everyone paper and pens. "Take notes on anything you find. Try to meet back here every couple of hours, okay? I'll see you all in two hours unless you find anything urgent."

Pansy stared at the pen in her hands. "What the fuck is this, Granger?" 

Shuffling the papers, Blaise looked thoughtfully at them. "It's like parchment," he said. 

"Right, but," Hermione whispered. "Remember, it's not parchment and you need to call it paper. That, Pansy, is a pen. Click the end there." 

Still confused, Pansy clicked the end and looked slightly startled. 

"The pen has ink in it," Hermione explained, taking her own pen and scribbling a little on the paper in her hand. "See? Works just like a quill except the ink is already there." 

Slowly, Pansy looked up at Blaise. "Blaise, we've got it all wrong. The muggles are the superior ones, aren't they?" She looked back at the pen and, curious, moved it against her hand, her jaw dropping when she was left with a small black line on the back of her thumb. 

Blaise rolled his eyes. "How did I end up with my two best friends being the most dramatic people I have ever met in my life?" 

Pansy shook her hand slowly at the pen, looking resigned. "No, Blaise, this is it. They've switched me. I hate quills, you know that! I've been saying for years that there has to be a better way to do this!" 

"Yeah, I remember you trying to create a spell that combined ink and an aguamenti. Can we go look at some medical journals now?" 

Looking up, Pansy realized Hermione had already walked away and Ron was wandering around the stack closest to them. 

She sighed. "See in you two hours."

Blaise put a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment. "Just remember, this is all for Draco. We're trying to find something that will help with him amnesia." 

He started to walk away and Pansy reached out, quickly grabbing at his wrist. "What?" He asked. 

She glanced around and lowered her voice. "What do you think happened to Potter?" 

Shrugging, Blaise glanced around as if the answer was in the library. "I don't know, Pans. Probably was seen by someone. And stopped to distract them so we could get out without also being seen." 

"But he was right behind you." 

Again, Blaise just shrugged. "What are you saying, Pansy? You think he did it on purpose? Look, I think he actually really cares for Draco. And I don't think he would have given up coming and helping today unless he had to." 

"I just...I just don't trust any of them." 

For a moment, Blaise didn't say anything. He understood. "Look, I definitely don't trust Weasley. Granger's good for information, but I don’t know about anything else. Potter...I think I trust Potter. I think he cares about Draco. Now, let's go try and find some information that could help Draco, alright?" 

After a small hesitation, Pansy nodded and dropped his wrist, walking into the stacks of books.

Chapter Text

Harry knew where he was going and he was walking there quite pointedly, trying to remember to walk not stalk because he was so worked up, when he was intercepted. He turned a corner and almost walked directly into McGonagall. 

"Professor," he said. 

She crossed her arms. "And where might you be headed, Mr. Potter?" 

"Um, I—“ Harry started. 

"Come with me to my office, Mr. Potter. I've been meaning to talk to you." 

Knowing that his plan would have to wait, Harry hung his head and followed his head of house back to her office. 

Once inside, he took a seat opposite from her, trying to will himself to not fiddle with the things on her desk. 

"I understand you've started a student watch, Mr. Potter." 

Harry's head jerked up. How did she know about that? 

"A portrait told me. But don't worry. The portraits and the ghosts are keeping it quiet. I believe I'm the only professor that knows. And I also know that you have been discussing many things with Professor Snape, especially regarding young Mr. Malfoy." 

Harry sighed. He supposed if he could talk to anyone about it, it would be McGonagall. "Professor, so many of the students just feel fed up that we're doing nothing. There's a war going on and Hogwarts could be targeted for it at any moment. We just want to be able to do something—to at least try and keep ourselves safe. The student watch isn't about fighting or putting ourselves in danger. Just the opposite. To protect each other, keep an eye on things." 

McGonagall nodded. "I understand, Mr. Potter. And I am completely alright with that. What I am wondering about is you , Mr. Potter. It doesn't seem in your nature to just...watch and do nothing." 

Feeling properly chided, Harry felt like hanging his head. 

He spoke quietly, not trying to fight with her, but just to explain . And he said words so similar to what he had just told Snape. "Everyone keeps telling me that I'm the Chosen One and that I have to be the one to kill Voldemort, but then no one actually lets me do anything." Harry's voice became tight as he continued. "And I know why—I understand. I know Professor Snape is right and that I need to be protected or whatever because Voldemort wants me dead more than anyone for that very reason, but I just..."

He bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut. After taking a few deep breaths, he continued. "Why are we waiting? If I'm the only one that can kill him, why are we waiting? Why don't I just go find him right now and kill him right now? Every second that we wait, more people die and he just gets stronger . And I feel personally responsible for every single of those deaths." 

McGonagall's eyes softened. "Harry, you're sixteen. And you're not responsible for Voldemort's actions. Only he is. You are responsible for you." 

"But how many deaths are going to happen because I didn't just—“

"There are reasons for us waiting." 

"Well, what are they?!" Harry started a little out of his seat, but sat back down before he could stand up fully. 

She sighed deeply and then stood. "Perhaps we should go and speak to Dumbledore." 

"Oh, okay," Harry stood as well. "That's where I was headed anyway." 

At the look McGonagall gave him, Harry shrunk back. But then she sighed again, and he knew he was forgiven. "Follow me," she said. 

__________

Stacks of books surrounding them, Blaise, Pansy, and Ron were all sitting at a table in the library when Hermione bustled up. She had a stack of books in her arms with the top one sitting open. 

"I found it," she scream-whispered. 

Everyone pushed away the books they were reading, knowing full well that they could look all day and not find what Hermione would find in probably twenty seconds. 

After a few moments of setting down and sorting books, she picked up the open one, placing it triumphantly on the tabletop. 

"Okay, so...amnesia from head trauma..." Hermione started rapidly explaining a lot of things that the other three couldn't really keep up with. 

Pansy held her hand out. "Granger, I really don't understand any of this. None of us were born in the muggle world so the three of us have no experience with what you're talking about. Even the hospitals are entirely different. Even if I knew half of the scientific words that you were using, I still don't think I could understand. What's an fMRI?" 

She waved her hand in dismissal. "A type of brain scan." 

"Brain scan? See, this is exactly what I mean—what is a brain scan?" 

Hermione sighed, finally sitting down in one of the chairs. "Okay, so maybe we didn't exactly think this through. You're right. I'm sure you are all smart enough to understand what I'm talking about—you just don't have background knowledge. Look, basically, there's no guarantee if Draco will regain his memories or not. But the fact that they have started coming back is a good indicator that they will continue. I think..." She drifted off, cringing a little. 

"What, 'Mione?" Ron asked, looking like he didn't really want to hear the answer. 

"I think the best way to figure out what is going to help him is to get him to see a doctor. We can try triggering some of the memories ourselves, but there are medicines that could likely help. In addition, there's the possibility that Draco has bleeding in his brain that could cause permanent damage. We need to get him to see a doctor, as there are possibly life-threatening side-effects." 

"And just how do you propose we get him to see a doctor?" Blaise asked. "He's trapped in Death Eater HQ, if you don't recall. And they're not going to let him go for any reason." 

Hermione was silent a moment and the group took one look at her and knew the next words out of her mouth were going to be, "I have a plan," or something similar. 

Groaning, Blaise dropped his head into his hands. 

"Well," Hermione started. "About that..." 

And then, in synch, all four of them said the words, "I have an idea." 

Hermione looked reproachfully at all of them. "I'm not that predictable," she said. 

Ron laid a hand on top of hers. "Yes. You are." 

Head still on the table, Blaise said, "Fine, Granger." He looked up at her. "Tell us the plan that'll get us all killed." 

She looked hesitant a moment and his face fell even more. "Okay, fine, tell us the plan that's going to get Pansy and I killed because I have a feeling that—“

"Okay, okay," Hermione cut him off. "I agree that it's dangerous. But it's just a thought. If we come up with something better, I'm open to that." 

Everyone at the table just lightly glared at her. They all knew that none of them were going to come up with a better plan. 

"So," Hermione started, knowing full well that they were all going to listen and even though they would protest, they would all end up doing it. "Pansy and Blaise: you two have the ability to get into Malfoy Manor and we don't. You can get to Draco." 

"How do we get him out, though?" Pansy asked. "There's no chance we can just walk him out of there and there are wards to prevent apparition. Plus, I'm not that good at apparition yet. And we would have to side-along Draco because he doesn't remember learning anything from the last six years. His magical abilities are very unreliable. When you're planning, you basically have to treat him like he doesn't have magic." 

Hermione just looked at her silently a moment. "Please hold your questions until the end." 

Pansy lifted her hands up in a 'sorry, damn,' gesture and Hermione continued. 

"One of you will polyjuice into Draco and Draco will polyjuice into you. And then you can walk right out. We'll have Draco take a reversing potion because we can't wait for it to wear off and then we get him to a hospital and try and get him some scans." 

"Are you insane?" Pansy asked, but she said it like a statement. She glanced to Blaise. "She's insane. I mean, in a hot mad-genius kind of way, but are we seriously—“

Blaise gave her a look and she shut up, shaking her head. 

"Alright," Blaise sighed. "Problems: Narcissa will see through it in a second. Pansy and I can act like Draco fairly well considering we've been impersonating him to make fun of him for years now, but that woman knows her son. And Snape'll probably see through us as well."

Hermione thought a moment. "I think we could get Narcissa on board. Snape, I don't think so, however." 

For a moment, Blaise just gaped. "Okay, we'll come back to that in a moment; I have more problems to discuss. How do you plan on brewing enough polyjuice to keep multiple doses for one of us without anyone noticing we're taking them and multiple doses for Draco? Without Snape noticing?" 

"Not a problem; we've done it before." 

After blinking rapidly, Blaise just continued. "I might also come back to that later, but...Okay, what if the hospital wants to keep Draco longer?" 

Ron interjected here. "We only need to get him in through the proper non-suspicious routes. Harry has an invisibility cloak, so we can always just sneak him out." 

"What if they need to keep longer? To do their tests or to get results back? How many doses of polyjuice are we going to have for Pansy or I? And what if we run out? Do we have any plans of ways that we can smuggle us more?" 

"If Narcissa's in on it, we can always get you more through her. We would just have to be careful," Hermione explained. 

"Last thing I can think of right now: Draco's a minor. Muggle or wizard, we can't check him into a hospital without a parent or guardian. There'll be questions. Too many. Especially if you and Ron and Harry or whoever show up with him. Just a gaggle of teenagers coming in saying one of them has a traumatic brain injury affecting his memory and 'oh, could you please do a brain scan and give medication?'" 

Hermione opened her mouth and Pansy held up a finger. "Granger, I swear, if you say more polyjuice—“

"Do you have a better idea?" 

"Yes," Pansy said. 

The entire table looked to her, surprised. Ron raised his eyebrows, indicating she go on. 

"I say that we stop being stupid, boastful we-can-do-it-ourselves Gryffindors and realize that sometimes, the best course of action is to ask for help. We need an adult, plain and simple." 

"But Narcissa—“ Ron started. 

"Not her." 

"Well, then who? Snape?" Ron asked, sarcastically. 

"Obviously not!" Pansy threw her hands up. "I'm not saying I have someone in mind, just that we need an adult. To pose as a parent." 

Everyone around the table started thinking, running in their head through lists of adults that they knew and systematically crossing them off. Probably because what they were doing was incredibly dangerous and no adult would willingly agree to do it. 

"Damn, it's too bad we don't still have Sirius," Ron muttered. "He'd be on board for this." 

Then, at the same moment, Hermione and Ron's eyes met. "Remus!" They said at the same time. 

"Professor Lupin?" Blaise asked. "Yeah, no way." 

"Well, who do you suggest?" Hermione shot back. "Charlie?" She indicated Ron. 

"Weasley's hot Dragon-Tamer brother? He's 24 and he looks like it!" 

"Hey," Ron said, turning to Hermione, completely bypassing Blaise's comment. "Actually, Bill and Fleur could probably pass as Draco's parents. You know, with Fleur and Draco and the hair?" 

Pansy looked to Blaise and spoke as if Ron and Hermione weren't there. "Yeah, they're stupid. If I had my doubts before, I'm certain now." 

"Okay," Blaise said. "Lupin it is. But we have to be careful because if he tells us no because what we're doing is insane, then he'll tell other people and it won't happen at all." 

"We'll get Harry to do it," Hermione said. "Act like it's a hypothetical plan of his and judge Remus' reaction." 

The table all sat in silence a moment, glancing back and forth between each other. Eventually, Blaise sighed. "I guess we're doing this." 

__________

Harry sat with McGonagall in front of Dumbledore as Dumbledore explained all about the horcruxes: what they were, where they were (as far as they knew), how many there were, how to destroy them. 

"Okay, then," Harry said. "Let's get started. Is there anything else I should know?"

"I think this is more than enough," Dumbledore said. 

There was tense silence for a moment and Harry looked back and forth between his professor and his head of house. McGonagall was glaring at Dumbledore. 

"Albus," she whispered tersely. "Can I speak to you privately a moment?" Without waiting for an answer, she told Harry, "Wait outside Mr. Potter. Give us just a moment." 

Wondering what this was all about, Harry carefully stood and walked out. He lingered on the stairs, considering spying, but he knew that he trusted both of the people in the room to tell him anything relevant. Clearly Dumbledore was keeping something from him and McGonagall disagreed, but Harry believed that Dumbledore knew what he was doing and that he had to trust that, so he stepped out into the hall to wait. 

After mere minutes, McGonagall stepped out, clearly bristling with anger. "Come with me, Mr. Potter," she snapped, but Harry could tell it wasn't directed at him. 

He followed her and they ended up back in her office. This time, however, when Harry went to sit across from her desk, McGonagall didn't sit, just kept pacing around her office. 

"Professor...?" 

Silent a moment, McGonagall kept pacing. 

"Professor, what is it?" 

She stopped, looking at him and Harry felt uncomfortable by the intensity of her gaze. "Dumbledore believes that you do not need to know." 

"Okay..." Harry said, unsure. "But clearly you disagree?"

"I disagree strongly." 

"Why doesn't he want me to know?" Tentatively, Harry turned the chair so he could sit facing her. 

"He believes you do not need to know yet ." 

"And what do you believe?"

She took a deep breath. "I believe you have the right to be prepared. And to make a choice. And that if you aren't aware until the last moment, you will be more likely to make the decision that he wants you to make. But, Harry. The choice is yours to make, no matter what you decide. And if he waits too long to tell you, you will feel that you have no choice at all." 

Starting to get a little bit scared, Harry shifted in his seat. It was strange to hear McGonagall talk about Dumbledore like this. "I'm sure the Headmaster knows what he's doing..." 

"Oh, he does," McGonagall snapped. "He did the same sort of thing with your parents and with Mr. Longbottom's parents. He knows exactly what he is doing in order to achieve the outcome that he wants. It's why you were placed with you aunt and uncle instead of Remus." 

Harry blinked, not sure how to take in that information. "Wait, what do you mean?" 

"I mean that I wanted to place you with Remus Lupin when your parents died. Naturally, Sirius was named your godfather, so we were going to place you with him, but you know why that didn't work out. I knew that Remus would love you and would raise you well in the magical world. But Dumbledore had different ideas." 

Anger started to build in Harry, but he desperately tried to shove it down. He didn't want to be angry at Dumbledore: Dumbledore knew what he was doing. He had his reasons. 

But he couldn't ignore the obvious: 

"The Dursleys abused me. I told both of you that!" Harry yelled, crying suddenly. He didn't understand! Why would they let that happen to him? 

"I know, Harry," McGonagall said and her eyes filled with tears as well. "I did as much as I could to get you raised by Remus. But Dumbledore had been named the executor of James and Lily's will and so the courts followed through with his decision. When you came to Hogwarts and I learned what your aunt and uncle were doing to you, how they were treating you...Harry, Remus and I took it to the Wizengamot. But, as you know, Dumbledore is on the Wizengamot. I don't know what he said to them, but they ruled in his favor." 

Harry started down at his lap. "I don't understand," he whispered. "Why would Dumbledore...?" 

She gave him a moment and then Harry lifted his head. "Wait," he said. "What is it you think I should know?" 

McGonagall took a deep breath. "Harry, when Voldemort went that night to kill you, you know that in doing that very act, he chose you accidentally to be the one prophesied to kill him."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. 

"In that very act, he also did something else."

Harry almost didn't want to ask. "What's that?"

"Harry." Again, she took another deep breath, looking like she didn't want to be the one to tell him. "In this, Vodlemort made you into one of his horcruxes." 

"What?!" Harry jumped out of his chair. "How is that even possible? Wait, so you mean part of his soul is in me? " 

In shock and horror, he started at McGonagall, willing her to say something different, to tell him this was all a joke. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Harry." 

His mind reeling, Harry looked all around him, breath starting to come short as he put it all together. "But wait...that means..." He looked back to McGonagall, understanding now. "He can't die unless all the horcruxes are destroyed, right?" She nodded. "And that means me." She nodded again, solemn. "But if the horcrux that is me is destroyed..." 

Harry lifted his eyes to hers. "If I'm the only one who can kill him, and I'm one of his horcruxes, I can't kill him. It isn't possible. He's going to win, isn't he?" 

Harry crashed back down in the chair and McGonagall came level to his eyes. "Not exactly, Harry. There's a way to do this." 

Chapter Text

Hermione finished her speech and the gaggle of sixteen-year-olds in front of him smiled. 

Remus just blinked in response. 

After a moment, he waved both of his hands, saying, "Wait, wait, wait. What? " 

"All you have to do," Pansy said. "Is pretend to be Draco's father long enough for the muggles to run their tests." 

Again, Remus just blinked. "Okay firstly? You are all out of your minds. And—" He paused. He had been intending to threaten to drag in their parents and explain to them their crazy plan, but then he realized he would only be able to tell Molly and Arthur. Instead, he sighed. "Where's Harry?" 

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek like she didn't want to say. "We're not sure. We came back from the library where we did all of that research and we couldn't find him. He was supposed to go with us and he was right behind us, but then he didn't make it to the Shrieking Shack for whatever reason. That was yesterday. We thought he was probably fine, but now we're not so sure." 

"Yes, well, how does this fit in with your entire plan considering Harry is the only one with any way of contacting Draco?" 

"That's not entirely true," Blaise said. "We can. We just don't want to push it. And we don't have any super secure way of doing so. Look, we'll find Harry before the whole plan gets in motion, but we just came to see if you're going to be on board." 

"And if I'm not because this is an insane plan?" 

The four went silent, glancing at each other. 

Eventually, Remus sighed and Hermione jumped back in. 

"It's just that you're our last resort! We have to help Draco! He's in a very dangerous situation right now." 

"What about Harry?" Remus asked. "Draco has the stability of everyone thinking he's got no memory at all. Where's Harry?" He ran a hand down his face. "I might have to go downstairs and bring this up to the Order." 

"No, please don't!" Hermione rushed out. "Please help." 

"Draco needs you," Pansy said. "He's just a helpless little kid. Surrounded by Death Eaters. Including Bellatrix." 

Again, Remus just sighed. 

He stood and gestured towards Pansy. "That was some classic manipulation but even though I can recognize it as such, it's still working." He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm considering this." 

Addressing the four again, he said, "As much as I care about Draco, the main focus right now is the war. I agree that we need to get him to a muggle doctor to make sure that there isn't any of that internal bleeding you mentioned and that there isn't anything life-threatening going on. But if we're found out, you have to know how great the risks are. It could potentially make every spy we have in the Death Eaters. Are you willing to risk what that could do for the entire war? The entire world?" 

Ron stepped forward. "I can't end the war. But I can help people. And I can't help everybody, but I can help this one person. And that's how I'm going to take this war: by helping one person at a time." 

After considering for a tense moment, Remus said, "One condition." 

All four looked to him eagerly. 

"We have to figure out what's happening with Harry first." 

__________

One Week Later  

They couldn't find Harry and an opportunity had presented itself. Having spoken with Narcissa discreetly, Hermione and Remus readied the polyjuice doses and sent Pansy and Blaise in to Malfoy Manor. 

Walking in side by side, both used the impeccable poker faces they had learned in their lives to not be phased by anything that they saw. They appeared comfortable surrounded by the Death Eaters and they weren't suspected by any that saw them. Although neither of their families were directly involved with the Death Eaters, but being that the Parkinsons were of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the Zabinis highly respected, no one thought it out of the ordinary that Draco Malfoy's two best friends were coming to pay their poor, obliviated friend a visit. 

They maintained their composure as they made their way to Draco's room, closing the door behind them no faster than normal. 

Sitting up in bed, Draco looked at his friends in confusion. "What's going on?" he whispered frantically. "What are you doing here?" 

Blaise stood by the door and Pansy quickly came to Draco's side. 

"It's a long story," she said. "But we need you to get out of here. Just temporarily. Granger has arranged for you to get in at some muggle hospital for them to look at your brain or something. Remus Lupin is going to be posing as your legal guardian or whatever. I don't have a ton of time to explain. But they'll tell you everything later. Just know, Draco, that I love you. So much. You're my best friend in the whole entire world and I would die for you in a heartbeat if necessary." 

Draco stared at her and then realized something: "When you walked in the door, I knew who you both were. Not explicitly. I don't think I even quite remember your names. But I know you." His eyes filled with tears. "I know you just like I knew Harry Potter the second he walked into the hospital wing. I saw him and I knew in my heart that I had loved him for a very long time." He took Pansy's hand. "It's the same with you two. I took one look at you and I knew that you are two people I wouldn't trade for the world. I wouldn't trade you two even if it meant all of my memories. Even if it meant everything. What's happening?" 

Now that Draco was crying, Pansy was to and Blaise wanted to come over to his friends, but he knew that his turn with Draco would come. Right now, he had to be watching the door, listening for any signs of someone coming. 

Pansy gave his hands a squeeze. "I'm going to stay here," she said. "I've got polyjuice. We're going to make you into me and me into you. You're going to go with Blaise and he's going to get you your brains scanned with Hermione and Ron and Remus. Okay?" 

"I have so many questions. Who's Remus? Where's Harry?" 

Blaise and Pansy both froze. "You mean you don't know?" Blaise asked. "Draco, we haven't talked to him in a week. We don't know where he is. All we've heard is that the you-know-what is handling it," he said, clearly implying the Order. "But they won't tell us anything. And they won't tell Remus anything. Apparently, the only ones who know where he is right now are—“ He stopped talking and mouthed, "Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall." 

"Okay, I know two of those names," Draco said to Pansy. "And I know one of yours now. Thank you, Blaise." 

Pansy sniffled, laughing a little. "I'm Pansy," she said. "Pansy Parkinson. I'm your best friend." 

And just like that, Draco had another flashback. 

Sitting in a train car, first year at Hogwarts. The compartment door opened and a boy walked in, introducing himself as Theo. Pansy leaned across the seat next to Draco to stick her hand out to him.

"Pansy Parkinson," she said. "Draco Malfoy's best friend. A pleasure." 

Later that night, she introduced herself that same way again when the last boy of the year to be sorted made his way to the Slytherin table. Once more, Pansy stretched herself across Draco to offer him her hand. "Pansy Parkinson," she said. "Draco Malfoy's best friend." 

Blinking away the memory, Draco looked at her through his tears. With a sob, Draco leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Pansy. 

He pulled back, whispering quietly, "Pans, you can't do this. It's too dangerous. I couldn't let you; it doesn't feel right. It's my danger and I have to live with it. You don't. I can't let you."

With a sad smile, Pansy just shook her head. Then, she reached up and plucked one of Draco's hairs, dropping it into a vial she carried. 

Before Draco could stop her, she took the potion and transformed into Draco. 

Then, she held out another vial to him. 

"You should take that," Draco's best friend said to him. "If someone walks in here right now, we're fucked. Got to go with Blaise, dear. I'm staying." 

Knowing that there was nothing he could do and stalling would only put them all in danger, Draco took the vial and swallowed the potion, immediately changing into Pansy. 

She took a few extra hairs from him to make sure that she had enough for her extra doses in case they would be long. They switched places and she gave his hand one last squeeze. 

"It's all going to be okay, Draco. I've got this. Blaise and the others'll explain everything." 

"One more thing," Draco added, half-standing to get ready to leave. "Bellatrix has been trying to get into my head. She's a powerful ligilimens and you don't have any occlumency training. Don't look her in the eyes, or we are all so fucked." 

"Okay," Pansy said. 

"No, Pans." Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "She will kill you." 

Pansy just smiled. "I know. Now on your way, quickly." 

With one last embrace, Draco stood and brushed Pansy's hair out of his face before following Blaise and walking right out the front door of the Manor. 

Once they were back at a safe spot, Draco heaved a large sigh of relief. "I thought for sure someone was going to stop us and ask us something." 

Blaise just smiled. "We've got to get going. Portkey's right over here." 

Indicating a watch on the ground, Blaise and Draco both bent at the same time and then—in what felt like an instant—found themselves standing outside the Weasley house. 

They entered and found the rest of their fun gang for this mission: Hermione, Ron, and Remus. 

Hermione walked right up to Draco and handed him a potion. 

"Drink this," she said. "It'll undo the effects of the polyjuice so we can get going right away. We want to give Pansy as much as we can." 

"Thank you," Draco said, clearing his throat as his voice returned to normal. He looked around at them all, then said, "I have so many questions." 

"I'm sure," Remus said. "But we have to get going. The house is empty right now because the rest of the Weasleys are at an Order meeting, but they could be back soon if it gets cut short. Follow me." 

__________

Draco wasn't able to ask any of his questions. Hermione apparently was a damn good liar and had arranged quite a bit of the thing over the phone so when they showed up, Draco was almost immediately whisked to get his "brain scan." 

And he was lying down on his back inside of a metal sphere with a hole in it, lying as still as he perfectly could in some strange medical gown. 

He was told to relax and think about what they told him to think through the little speaker and it was so hard because he just had so many questions. Where was Harry? And still, no one had told him anything about Remus! And what was the point of all of this? Cause no one was really clear. They had kind of just made all of the decisions without him. 

"Alright, Draco," the nice doctor's voice came on over the speakers. "Now I want you to think about your time in school. Your classes, your classmates." 

There was silence and Draco pictured the halls of Hogwarts, Pansy, Blaise, Harry. 

"Good, good," she said. "Now your childhood." 

That one was easy; he had all those memories. Thousands of different things flashed before his mind like when his house wasn't so ominous. His mother's warm hugs. Sitting out in the garden helping Mother prune the flowers. 

"Good, Draco. Now I want you to think of your sixteenth birthday." 

After trying for a moment, Draco found himself utterly frustrated. All he came up with was blackness, blankness. 

"Very nice, Draco. And I'm told you play football? Can you think about that for me? Perhaps scoring a goal? Your first time on the field?" 

Draco knew that football was code for him to think about Quidditch. He started with the memories of when he was a kid: the ones he was sure of. And then he remembered that Harry had told him he was on Slytherin team and that he was a seeker. 

He strained to remember that, thinking about what it would be like to be flying with the wind in his face and hair, eyes narrowed and arm outstretched, entire body focusing on nothing but that little golden snitch. 

She asked him more questions—question after question after question —and Draco tried to not be continually annoyed with himself each time he couldn't think of any answers. 

But soon it was over and he was back in a little hospital room where Remus was waiting. But just Remus. That made Draco feel a little anxious. He wasn't exactly feeling the most trusting type lately and no one had told him anything about Remus!

The doctor began explaining various things to Remus, talking about retrograde amnesia and the "gaps" and "holes." She mentioned that there were many things that started to spark within the brain and many that did not come up with anything. She explained using things before the memory loss as a standard and went on and on to Remus about so many things that Draco couldn't comprehend. 

When she finally had left, Remus turned to him. 

"Alright, Draco," he said. "From what she's been saying, I think Hermione's original hypothesis was right: the obliviate and the head trauma are combining to create the memory loss that you have now. She said the brain's a tricky thing, so no one ever really can predict how memories are going to work, so she can't guarantee you're going to get anything back. But since you've already been getting some snippets, it's likely they'll continue. And this will probably be ongoing over the course of years.

"From what she was saying about recall and...I don't know, I didn't understand most of it, truth be told." They both laughed a little bit because, in that, they were the same. "I think that the obliviate is responsible for the most recent few months. And the rest is surrounding..." He sighed. "So that might come back. But the good news is that you have no internal bleeding and nothing medical you need to worry about besides the amnesia."

He handed Draco a piece of paper the doctor had written out. "Here are some things she wants you to do in order to try and help bring your memories back." 

Draco looked at the list and sighed. "Let's get back," he said, dropping it in his lap. "Get me my clothes. Got to get back for Pansy." 

"Right, about that," Remus started. Then, he lowered his voice. "We've got to kind of...break out of here. They want to keep you here for a little while and we've got to be going as soon as possible. We got the information that we want." 

Draco blinked. "You're an adult. How did you let them talk you into this whole thing?"

Remus' eyebrows pinched together. "Hermione is...she is very good at using big words and Pansy is very manipulative and Ron brought in some righteous, justice, 'there's potentially a child in danger' kind of thing, I—I really don't know. Let's just get going. Ron and Hermione and Blaise came up with a plan. I'm going to go 'go to the bathroom' and leave and Ron is apparently coming up here with Harry's invisibility cloak to sneak you out. Okay?" 

Draco nodded. 

"Alright," Remus. "Just hold tight. I'll give them the go-ahead when I get out of the hospital and we'll send Ron up, yeah? Just try and keep entirely under the invisibility cloak as you can; they have cameras." 

Again, Draco just nodded. 

He reviewed the list the doctor gave him while he waited and committed it to memory. There couldn't be any evidence of him leaving the Manor. And he felt sick to his stomach with each minute that passed, each minute that he was away from Pansy. 

"Get in," Ron said, standing between Draco and the door and lifting up the edge by Draco. 

Quickly, Draco squeezed under with Ron and they moved slowly, trying to keep their feet from poking out like Remus had reminded them both. 

It wasn't long before they were outside and Remus made to get them all divided up, all back to where they were going. Draco was armed with three potions: one to polyjuice into Pansy to get him into the house. A second would undo the effects of his polyjuice and the third would undo the effects of Pansy's, turning them back into themselves for a quick exit. 

It wasn't long until Draco was safely back in bed and Pansy—the real one—was walking out with Blaise. The two of them had resolved to meet at the Order Headquarters and took their portkey right to the front door. Blaise said the passcode and the door opened for them. 

The plan had been to sneak up the stairs and to the room where everyone else was but when they entered that room, Ron, Hermione, and Remus were all sitting on the floor with tears in their eyes. 

"What happened to Potter?" Blaise immediately said. 

__________

That Same Day

Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor of McGonagall's office. 

He was numb. 

He had been deposited there by McGonagall as she told him that it was safe. She was collecting his things. She would get him out of the school safely. She would get him to 12 Grimmauld Place safely. 

Dumbledore was dead. 

Snape had killed him. 

Harry didn't know what was going on. 

Chapter Text

“What happened to Potter?” Blaise repeated, starting to feel queasy. 

“It’s not Harry,” Hermione said. 

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a look, wondering what then everyone was crying about. If Potter was fine, then—

“It’s Dumbledore,” Remus said. “He’s dead.” 

“That’s bad,” Pansy said. She crossed her arms, looking at all the faces in front of her. “Well, do we at least know where Potter is or where he’s been for the last week? I don’t even really care about the git and I’m starting to get worried.” 

Ron squared his shoulders. “No one will tell us,” he said and it was clear by the way that he said it that he was going to continue and he was only going to get more angry as he went. 

But Remus put a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him. “Let’s all go upstairs, okay? I’ll fill everyone in.” 

Once they were in a room upstairs with the door closed behind them, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Blaise all looked expectantly at Remus. He was the adult here, after all, and he was really the only one with any kind of access to what the Order knew about. 

“Harry has been spending the last few weeks getting some things taken care of. No one will tell me what, exactly, but between McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore, one of them was with Harry and making sure he was safe at all times. Besides them, I don’t think anyone else knows what exactly is going on with Harry. And—” 

“I don’t think they should be here,” Ron said abruptly and everyone looked at him all confused. 

“What do you mean? Who?” Hermione asked. 

“Them!” Ron said, pointing at Pansy and Blaise. “I can’t believe you would even think to trust them with any of this information.” 

“Excuse—” “What are you—” “You fucking—” Everyone began talking at once. 

“Tell them!” Ron yelled and silence settled in the room. 

“Oh,” Hermione said, realizing what he was thinking about. “Right. Ron, that has nothing to do with Blaise and Pansy. Just because—” 

“No, I don’t care. I’m going with my gut. I have never trusted Snape. And now it turns out that I was right this entire time, wasn’t I?” 

“Weasley, what are you talking about?” Blaise asked. 

Ron whirled around to face the Slytherins. “Snape is the one that killed Dumbledore! And now no one from the Order can find him or contact him. We don’t know what’s going on. McGonagall says that nothing is wrong and that Harry is with her. And I’m sick and tired of everyone telling me just to blindly trust when it’s going against what is right in front of my eyes! Snape killed Dumbledore and we thought we were supposed to trust him. And you two have openly admitted that you’re only in this for Draco, so how am I supposed to trust you right now? I think that you need to get out of here and right now.” 

Without thinking—just on feeling—Blaise reached out and grabbed Pansy’s wrist at the same moment she reached for her wand. 

“Oh, I am going to hex you so fucking hard the second Blaise lets go of me!” She began shaking him off furiously. 

“Pans, Pans, Pansy!” 

She stopped struggling, still fuming in Ron’s direction and then she just began yelling. “How many times do we have to fucking say it, Weasley? Just because we aren’t best friends doesn’t mean that we want to see Voldemort win! I’m so fucking sick of you thinking you have some moral superiority because of your school house—are you fucking with me? How is what Snape did supposed to have any influence on whether or not Blaise and I are going to stab you in the back? I get that Snape doing this is fucking with your head but I will fuck with your head harder the second I can lay my hands on you if you ever insult me like that again.” 

“Let’s all calm down,” Remus said. “Everyone take a seat.” 

It was only now that everyone calmed down enough to look around the room that they were in. It was an uninhabited sitting room and they all took seats around the room, Remus the only one to stay standing as he paced in front of them as he began to explain. 

“As I was saying,” he began, fully aware that Ron and Pansy would only hear half of it if they were going to keep glaring at each other like they were. 

“Dumbledore is dead, yes. But McGonagall says not to worry, that everything is under control. She says Snape is still on our side which—I don’t understand either, Ron. But I trust Minerva. And you should all, too. She and Harry are working on something. Like I said, I think that both the Order and the Death Eaters are getting ready to be making their final moves. And now, unfortunately, I am caught up in whatever scheme you children are figuring out. You seem to be starting and stopping all of these different plans all over the place. And it would probably be irresponsible of me to just let that go and pretend like I didn’t notice what’s going on. So I will be honest with you if you will be honest with me. What are you planning right now?” 

The group all looked to Hermione, not needing to consult anyone else. 

“Firstly, we have a student watch going on. They’re monitoring everything that is coming on or off the grounds of Hogwarts through some heavily modified copies I made of the Marauder’s Map.” 

“You modified my map?” 

Hermione smiled. “I’ll tell you about it later. Essentially, the goal was to watch out for anything suspicious and let the students feel like they’re doing something useful because right now we all feel like we’re waiting around to watch our loved ones die. Mr. Lupin, I get the sense that no one from the Order is being to forthcoming about sharing information so I was thinking we could go to the students who have been on the watch recently and see if Harry has been showing up as coming on and off the grounds. Maybe we might be able to find him that way. If he’s at Hogwarts, we should be able to find him through the Marauder’s Map and we also might be able to figure out if there’s any information that might be useful to figure out what happened with Dumbledore’s death.” 

“I think that’s a good plan,” Blaise said. 

“What about Draco?” Pansy asked. 

“See what I mean!” Ron started up from his seat a little. “That’s all you care about!” 

“As if every other word out of your mouth hasn’t been about Harry! Draco is my best friend and one of the only people I have in the whole world. No one knows me like Draco does and no one loves me like Draco does. At least you have plenty of people that are concerned about the safety of your best friend. Meanwhile mine is in a house of Death Eaters being a spy and he has amnesia and no one particularly cares if he ends up making it out of this war alive! So excuse me if I want to know what about Draco.” 

There was silence in the room a moment, a lot of people looking awkwardly at the floor or the walls. Ron in particular looked a little chastened. 

“Okay, fine,” Ron said. “What about Draco? If everyone is moving to their endgame, then what are the Death Eaters planning to do with him? He could be drawn into this somehow and—”

“I knew I should have mentioned it earlier, but I didn’t know how.” 

Immediately, all eyes were back on Pansy. 

“Mentioned what, Pans?” Blaise asked her. 

She bit a nail before speaking. “When I was polyjuiced as Draco, Narcissa came and spoke to me. She doesn’t trust her sister and neither does Snape but Narcissa was talking about some meeting that I—Draco—would have to attend later. Luckily, I was able to fake my way out of it until it was time for the real Draco to be back, but if he is supposed to be attending a meeting, then that means they’re going to be using him somehow. And we already went to visit him twice and it would be a tad suspicious if we went again. So the only way we have to contact him…is Potter.” 

“Well,” Ron began. “What could they possibly be using him for?” 

__________

“Drink up, Mr. Potter.” McGonagall set the teacup down in front of Harry but he didn’t reach out to take it, still staring at the opposite wall. 

Harry didn’t even know how this was all happening, he couldn’t even process. There were horcruxes being brought to him and he was destroying them as they came and there were…there was all that shit about the Deathly Hallows or whatever it was. 

If he was being honest, McGonagall and Snape were doing most of the work. Because Harry had reached his breaking point. 

He was going to die. 

He was going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it. The existence of the Deathly Hallows was only even believed by some, but whether or not they would actually allow Harry to conquer death was another thing. And they seemed to be having some trouble figuring out how to make Harry the master of them instead of just…getting them. 

The only one left was the Elder wand. And Harry had to master the Elder wand. He couldn’t just find it in his possession, he had to be able to have some sort of power over it. 

To tell the truth, he had no fucking clue how it worked. But he did know one thing—Voldemort was currently in possession of the Elder wand. 

There was a long—very long, fucking excruciating, would put Binns to utter shame—talk that Snape had given Harry in regards to Dumbledore’s death about how Snape and Dumbledore had planned the entire thing so that Voldemort would not kill Dumbledore and therefore master the Elder wand and so Snape currently apparently was the master of the Elder wand? But then…then somehow…Voldemort was the one currently in possession of the Elder wand? 

Harry didn’t know. He just knew his fucking brain hurt and he didn’t have the Elder wand and so there was really no way of coming back from the dead. 

So he had to fucking die. 

Oh, and another thing—the mirror had broken. 

__________

Draco wondered if bathrooms had always been his first choice of where to have a breakdown, or if that was just a result of living in a house full of Death Eaters. 

Staring at his own face above the sink, he remembered something—Harry told him about the scars on his chest—he had been having a breakdown in a bathroom when he and Harry had gotten into that fight. 

Wonderful. It was strangely comforting to know this was normal-Draco and not just fearing-for-his-life-at-every-turn Draco. 

Anyway, things were going fine. He didn’t have internal bleeding in his brain, according to the muggle doctors, he no longer had the mirror, and Dumbledore was dead. 

Oh, and he had been asked to lure Harry Potter to his death. 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head down against the sink, and remembered the events from the last six hours: 

His mother had come into his room, not long after Pansy and Blaise had left. She had gotten him out of bed, made him wash up and put on dress robes. Every time he asked her what was going on, she kept reminding him of the “meeting” she had told him he was supposed to attend. 

Just before they left his room, he stopped his mother, looking her in her frantic eyes. 

“Mother, what is happening?” 

Her eyes filled with tears as she smoothed her son’s hair back. “Everything is going to be fine. Stay silent, agree to do what they tell you, and don’t look anyone in the eyes. Unless he commands it.” 

Draco was opening his mouth to ask who exactly “he” was, not wanting the cold fear spreading through his body to be confirmed when the door opened and there was his aunt Bellatrix. 

“He’s arrived,” she said and there was urgency in her tone. “Go, move, quickly.” 

Draco had been brought to a room full of Death Eaters. And instead of standing off to the side, he was sat down at the table. Every single second made this walking nightmare worse and worse until he was certain he was beyond hell. 

And then the Dark Lord entered. 

Draco’s mind was so overrun with fear that he barely was listening to what was being said. Until, that is, the attention of the Dark Lord was on him. 

He was commanded by the Dark Lord to look into Bellatrix’s eyes and to not resist with occlumency. He tried to be sneaky about it, tried to block out the memories of what had happened between him and Harry, of their friendship, of the mirror, of him deciding that he was going to be a spy—and the knowledge that Snape was also a spy and that his mother might be affiliated with them as well. 

In the end, he had to sacrifice himself. He fed Bellatrix pieces of information—mostly true, but containing a few fabrications. He gave her the memories from the hospital wing at Hogwarts. She looked through the memories of him realizing he was a Death Eater, and realizing he was in love with Harry Potter. She saw everything about the mirror and the conversations and Draco deciding he was going to become a spy. But he was able to fabricate a small piece that made her believe he had been feeding Harry the information directly through the mirror, leaving Snape and his mother out of it. 

It was revealed that he was partially faking his amnesia and making it seem worse than it really was—that part of his memories were examined to the full extent. And it was excruciating. 

His eyes met his own in the mirror. The last several hours had changed his life. 

Brutally, his aunt had pulled up every memory she could find. She began with the most recent and started working her way backwards, finding a small gap from the past year and then able to pull up memories from his fifth year. From there, she continued moving back through Draco’s life, pulling up memory after memory. It was so painful, but he could access them all. Every memory that was moved away from Draco’s access by the head trauma was now found. They were raw like fresh burns, but he could touch them. He could remember them. She had only stopped when she found the extent of the damage, back just before he began at Hogwarts. 

The upside, Draco supposed, was that he had his memories back. But really, there was no upside. He had his aunt digging through his mind for hours with the Dark Lord and several Death Eaters watching over it happening. He had spent the last hour alone just recovering from the ordeal his body had been through. 

Naturally, legilimency can open a two-way street and Draco had tried to use that to the best of his advantage. 

Bellatrix was suspicious of Snape, but knew nothing and therefore wouldn’t bring it to the Dark Lord unfounded—especially since Snape had apparently just brought the Dark Lord something very special that he wanted after he killed Dumbledore. Fortunately, after seeing everything Bellatrix was no longer suspicious of Draco himself and had full confidence he would cooperate now that he had experienced how helpless he was against her (or so she thought, considering all he was still able to bury from her). 

He had already known she was the one posing as the specialist from St. Mungo’s back when this all began. But now he also knew why: originally, it had been Draco tasked with killing Dumbledore. After the accident, it had been reported to Lucius and Draco’s father had taken it to the Dark Lord who immediately wanted an assessment of his asset at Hogwarts. He had wanted Bellatrix to do what was she doing then—dig up all of his memories so that he could continue serving the Dark Lord unimpaired. The intention was that any memories possible would be recovered, he would be briefed on the situation, and then he would once more continue the work that the Dark Lord had for him. 

The Dark Lord had made everyone else leave the room so that Bellatrix could give him her report. It was just the three of them. After she had spent nearly another hour giving all of the information to him with Draco slumped over in his chair barely conscious, the Dark Lord made her leave the room as well. 

Draco thought for sure that he was going to be dead. He was going to be tortured, he was going to be killed. He knew that the Dark Lord didn’t spare—especially not now that he had most of his memories back. He dealt punishment without looking back: cruciatus, avada, done. 

But the Dark Lord had looked at Draco and when he expected pain, none came. Instead, the Dark Lord spoke to him. 

“You made incredibly unwise choices, young Malfoy. I know you are going to do everything in your power to correct this egregious mistake so that I am not forced to dispose of your entire disloyal family. After all, I can’t know how far your motivations and actions spread.” 

Draco remained silent even as the pause became longer and longer until the Dark Lord said, “That is correct, yes, Mr. Malfoy? You are going to do everything in your power to fix this? To make it up to your Lord? For your dear mother?” 

Throat dry, about to pass out, Draco managed to say, “Yes, my Lord.” 

“Good. Then bring me Harry Potter.” 

At that moment, the world seemed to end for Draco. 

“He trusts you. He thinks you’re on his side. Dare I say he believes he’s fallen in love with you. Prove to me that your loyalty to your Lord is more important. Bring him to me.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

With a deep breath, Draco looked up from the bathroom counter. 

Chapter Text

“Now, Severus. It’s time.” 

“No,” Snape said, wand out before him, adamantly refusing. “I can’t let you do this—not this way—this isn’t what we had agreed upon.” 

“It’s what needs to happen, Severus,” Dumbledore insisted. 

The two were in the Forbidden Forest. It would be plausible to outsiders that Dumbledore had been attacked in the forest and overcome. That he was betrayed by one of his professors. And Dumbledore had come to Snape asking the two of them to take a walk together and Severus had known. Dumbledore knew that it was time for him to die. 

Snape had been right—everyone was closing in on their endgames now. It was what he had told Minerva, it was what he had told Harry. And Dumbledore agreed with him. Which meant they were to enact the plan. 

But now Dumbledore was changing it up on him. 

“Albus,” Severus tried, wanting to reason with him. 

“Do the killing curse now, Severus. It has to be now! You know that we cannot wait any longer.” Dumbledore held no wand. He was surrounding freely to his death. 

“Where is the Elder Wand, Albus?” 

“Safe.” 

Snape shook his head. This was not what they had agreed upon. 

Dumbledore’s new plan was that he wasn’t going to fight Snape so that Snape would not win. Because if he wins, he would become the master of the Elder Wand. Instead, Dumbledore had figured that if he died in a fight without fighting back at all, then the Elder Wand would not transfer its mastery. 

It could potentially stop the Elder Wand from being bound to any one master. 

Who knew what kind of effects it would have on the potency of the wand, but that would only be a welcome side effect to Dumbledore. All in an effort to stop the Dark Lord from getting his hands on it. 

“Harry needs that wand, Albus!” 

“Harry does not need it more than we all need Voldemort to not get his hands on it! I should have found a way to destroy this wand when I had a chance, when he wasn’t looking for it! But I didn’t! So this is the only solution, Severus!”

“Solution?” Snape was finding it less and less difficult to come to terms with this plan that he had struggled with for years. “You know that Harry has to be the one to kill the Dark Lord. The prophecy said so! And he also has to die to destroy the last horcrux, so that the Dark Lord may never come back. He cannot kill the Dark Lord and continue living on being a horcrux—it would drive him mad and he would potentially be taken over by the Dark Lord’s will and he would become the next Dark Lord. And so he must die. To destroy the horcrux. But he must also live, Albus. To defeat him. You know this!” 

But Dumbledore shook his head. “I believe that once the horcruxes are all destroyed, Voldemort can be killed.”

“Oh—” Snape started, incredibly angry. 

“That was why we couldn’t succeed the first time, Severus! Because of the horcruxes!” 

“So you’re just going to let the boy die?!” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, Severus—”

“He’s a sixteen year old kid!”

“Who has to—” 

“This was has ruined enough, Albus. Expelliarmus!” The Elder Wand flew from Dumbledore’s pocket and into Snape’s awaiting hand. He felt the power course through him and knew that he had bested the previous master and therefore, the Elder Wand was tied to him. 

“Wait, Severus!” Dumbledore yelled, trying to explain himself. “It cannot fall into his hands!” 

“Harry will have it. I will make sure it gets to Harry somehow.” 

“The boy already survived once—he’s already gotten lucky!” 

“Exactly. He’s already survived once. If there’s anyone that could survive again, it’s Harry Potter.” 

__________

Turns out, sneaking into Hogwarts was way easier than Draco would have predicted, given how much all of the Death Eaters seemed to adamantly refuse to try and “infiltrate” the school. 

Like, fuck, Draco just walked in the damn front door while everyone was in class. 

He had one mission here and one mission only: to go to the Room of Hidden Things and finish the repairs on the vanishing cabinet. Draco would have assumed that now that Dumbledore was dead, the Dark Lord wouldn’t have cared about trying to get into Hogwarts—he had mistakenly thought that the only reason the Dark Lord wanted the school was for the access to the Headmaster but there were apparently many other things in the school that he wanted. Hogwarts was full of secrets, after all, wasn’t it? 

So Draco was to finish the vanishing cabinet. 

Then, he would lure Harry to Hogwarts—it would be easy enough to get him to come alone because Harry would think that no harm would come to him at Hogwarts. He thought the school was a fortress and he was surrounded by friends here. Everyone agreed he would readily come alone. And then the Death Eaters would come through the vanishing cabinet, able to ambush the Order allies that controlled the school and the Dark Lord would show up and he would kill Harry Potter. 

That was the plan. 

So here Draco was, at the Room of Hidden Things. 

When he had paced in front of the door, he had thought of the room full of things, all of them strewn about, but the vanishing cabinet especially. There, waiting for him. 

The door appeared and Draco walked through it, opening up the room that was not what he had pictured. 

It was that room that he had Harry had been in that day. With the chairs and the mirror and the books. It was where Draco had sat as he had closed his eyes tight and pulled up his sleeve and found out that he was a Death Eater. 

It was the same room that Draco had hidden out in that night before his father had come to pick him up. Harry had sat on the wall just outside the entire time as Draco sat in the chair and forced himself to not move because he knew that if he did, he would run to Harry and beg him for help. Like a coward. 

Harry Potter looked his way and Draco became a coward. 

Not anymore. 

Groaning in frustration, Draco walked back into the hallway and tried again. This time, he opened the door to a large collection of objects and he rolled up his sleeves and set to work. 

__________

He had missed his friends. Oh, he had missed them so much. 

Harry was sat between Ron and Hermione on a sofa in Grimmauld Place and he was recovering from a hefty cry. They had sat by his side the entire time, comforting him. Well, that was, after the initial anger Ron had exploded with when Harry told them about everything. 

Everything meaning his upcoming death. 

And since there was no way for Harry to be able to get his hands on the Elder Wand, he was going to die for certain. For good. 

He thought back on what Snape had said to him:

“Harry, the Dark Lord found out that I was in possession of the Elder Wand. If I resisted and didn’t let him have it, he would become its master when he won the fight. So I gave it to him freely, therefore keeping its true allegiance with myself. When the time is right, I will disarm him and then you will disarm me and the Elder Wand will be yours.”

So, yeah, Harry was fucking screwed. 

“Okay,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “Now that we’re all a bit more calmed down, can we return to Ron’s earlier sentiment: what the fuck was Snape thinking just handing over what is literally the most powerful wand of all time to Voldemort himself?” 

“Well, didn’t he say that since the wand wasn’t taken by Voldemort winning some kind of fight that he wasn’t its true master?” Hermione asked. 

“What the fuck does it matter?!” Ron asked. “You-Know-Who still has the most powerful wand of all time and the only person who can take it away from him is Snape. That doesn’t sound to me like the position that I want to be in, especially considering that if Harry doesn’t get a hold of it, he won’t have all of the Deathly Hallows. So yeah, it sounds really fucking bad to me.” 

“McGonagall seems to trust him, so I would too,” Hermione insisted. 

“It’s Snape! How could—” 

They were interrupted by the door opening. 

Pansy came into the room quite quickly, Blaise closing the door behind them. 

“How is he?” Pansy asked. 

“He’s got a lot going on right now and it’s actually really difficult, Parkinson.” 

She took one long look at Ron and then smacked him upside the head. “I wasn’t asking about Potter you idiot! If I wanted to know how Potter was doing—he’s sitting right there—I’d just ask him!” She whirled on Harry. “How’s Draco?” 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, Parkinson.” 

She straightened her shoulders. “Do we need a reminder of our conversation that day in the Room of Hidden Things?” Harry cringed, remembering her wrenching grip on his ear. 

“No, Parkinson, I’m fully aware that that was just the beginning of your wrath.” 

“Fine. If you won’t, I will—hand the mirror over.” 

“Yeah, I can’t, Parkinson! It’s broken! It broke, okay? I have no way of contacting him.” 

Blaise looked crushed, staggering to find a chair and put his head between his knees, breathing deep. Pansy on the other hand, promptly began yelling . “You fucking—how could you let that break?” Blaise put his head in his hands, trying not to vomit. “That’s our best friend, Potter,” Pansy continued. “You have no idea how concerned we are for him. You have no idea—” 

“I’m fucking in love with him, okay? I’m more than a little worried myself! You think I let this happen on purpose?” 

Pansy looked at him a moment in shock, clearly trying to decide how to respond when Blaise couldn’t hold it anymore and ran to go throw up. 

After sending him a withering glare, Pansy turned around and followed, but not before saying, “I will be back in a moment and we will talk about this. Just after I go help Blaise.” 

Ron sat down next to his best friend. “How did the mirror break?” 

“One of the fights I had with one of the horcruxes. I didn’t even realize it until later. Who knows how many times he’s tried to get a hold of me since or how much danger he could be in. He’s probably freaking out, wondering why I’m not answering.” 

Harry buried his head in his hands as he continued. “I’m so worried about him. And I just want…” 

Hermione put her hand on his back. “Just want what, Harry?” 

“There was one time not too long ago when Draco called me on the mirror. It was our last time talking. And he talked really quickly about desperately wanting to tell me how much I mean to him. He said that he has had feelings for me for a very long time—strong feelings—and I wasn’t able to tell him that I feel the same. My whole life, I’ve never been able to really say goodbye to the people that I love. I wasn’t able to say goodbye to my parents, and just when I got Sirius in my life, he died and it was so sudden. He was just gone and I didn’t get to say goodbye. I know that I’ll be able to say goodbye to you and to the rest of the Weasleys, but Draco’s the only person I’ve ever really liked like that. And I just want to tell him before it’s all over, before it’s too late.” 

Before either of his friends could respond, Pansy walked back into the room with Blaise following. “Potter,” she started. “There’s an owl downstairs going crazy. She’s got some note and refuses to give it to anyone. But it’s got your name on it. I suggest you go downstairs and try and get it from her.” 

“Based on the way she’s reacting, she probably won’t even let you read it in front of anyone,” Blaise added, coming to take a seat, looking a little exhausted. 

Harry nodded, standing. Then, he walked downstairs. 

There was, indeed, an owl downstairs and many of the Order members were attempting to coax her into being a little calmer. She had a note with her, but was flying around the room, determined to not let anyone take it. A few of the Order members appeared to be bleeding on their hands and forearms from where she must have pecked at them if they tried to take the note. 

“Hey!” Harry called over to her. “Is that for me?” 

The room stopped, looking at Harry as the owl came to rest atop a bookcase. Harry outstretched his hand to her. “If that’s for me, might I have it?” But the owl didn’t move. 

Harry tried again. “Why don’t you come with me into another room? It can be just the two of us and then you can give me that note in private.” Without waiting for a response from the owl, Harry turned and walked into another room. None of the Order members objected to the strange situation when the owl flew in after him. 

After closing the door, the owl finally landed and held out her leg to him. Sure enough, Pansy had been right and there was his name on the front of the note. 

He untied it, thanking her and opened the note up. 

H. 

I hope that you’re safe. I know it’s risky to send this, but you haven’t been answering and with everything going on, I’m worried. If for some reason you can’t contact me the way that we have been talking, then we need to meet. DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS LETTER. Instead, please meet me tomorrow morning at 9am where we first met. If you’re too much of an idiot to know where we first met, then I really don’t know how to help you here. It wasn’t the train platform, nor Hogwarts, too. 9am. I will only wait for ten minutes and if you haven’t shown up by 9:10, I will leave. And probably assume that you are dead. Please, H. It’s important. 

P.S.: Really, though, if you don’t remember where we first met, I will slap you. Even I remember and, well, you know. 

Norbert

Harry had to laugh a little bit. Of course he remembered where he first met Draco Malfoy but he was a little offended that Draco had to leave him a hint with that “Hogwarts, too,” repeating in the letter Draco’s first words to him. It was cute though, Harry liked it. Now he just had to wait for the next morning. 

The owl, however, wouldn’t let him leave the room. And Harry couldn’t figure out why until he had destroyed the note. 

Which was a good thing, too, because when Harry opened the door, many Order members were waiting. 

“Show us the letter, Harry,” Molly said. “We want to make sure it’s safe.” 

Harry looked at her a moment. He tried not to get a little upset because he knew that she was just caring for him, but it was difficult. Firstly, he was going to be dead soon, anyway. He had already accepted that. Secondly, he had already read the letter so what was the point? 

“It’s gone. Please let this poor owl out of the house.” 

He started to slip past everyone, despite how much they kept asking what the letter said. Instead, he went upstairs. It was only eight pm but Harry knew he likely wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, worrying about Draco. Between that and the fact that everyone seemed to want to be asking him questions, Harry decided to just go to sleep. He would go to Madam Malkins in the morning. 

__________

“It’ll be okay, Harry,” Hermione reassured him for the millionth time. 

He had told Ron and Hermione about the letter and where he was going, just in case. Clearly, it was from Draco, but these days, Harry knew he could never be so sure. He didn’t want to die before the time was right because then everyone would be even more screwed. And there was something about the letter that felt odd to him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

With a final nod to Hermione and Ron, Harry left and apparated to Diagon, quickly making his way to the robes shop. 

Inside, he found Draco in the back, carefully keeping himself in the corners and shadows. 

“Draco!” Harry whispered, coming up and embracing him immediately, feeling intense pain in his heart. At least when he died, his doing so would make everyone he loved safer. 

After Draco finally let go of him, Harry pulled back. “Should we go someplace else to talk?” Harry asked. 

Nodding, Draco took his hand. “That would be wise. Let’s leave out the back. Do you have your invisibility cloak?” 

Harry nodded, pulling it out and throwing it over their heads. He followed Draco out of the back door of the shop, not asking any questions so that they wouldn’t get unwanted attention. 

It wasn’t until Draco pulled them around a deserted corner that they began to talk. 

“Don’t take the cloak off,” Draco insisted. “We can’t be too careful.” 

So there they were, two teenage boys in the middle of a war who had feelings for each other, pressed close together under a single cloak. 

“Harry, I—” Draco began and Harry cut him off with a kiss. 

Startled, it took Draco a moment to kiss back and, even then, it was a quick kiss before he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry started. “I just…I really have feelings for you. I might be in love with you. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. And I’m really scared right now and we don’t know what’s going to happen, but I just didn’t want anything to happen to either of us without me telling you first. Now, what were you gonna say?” 

Forgetting everything he was supposed to be telling Harry, Draco kissed him back. 

It took a few minutes for them to pull apart, both of them knowing that Draco couldn’t stay long and they needed to get on with the conversation. So pulled tight against each other in an alley, they got to talking. 

“I have news, Harry.” 

“So do I. But you first.” 

“Okay.” Draco took a deep breath. “The Death Eaters are at their endgame. They’re going to invade Hogwarts. I need the Order to act like they are entirely unprepared. My cover as a spy has been blown. Snape’s hasn’t, but it’s close. You—”

“Wait, what do you mean you’re cover’s been blown. What happened?”

Draco began to tear up. “You know Bellatrix has desperately been trying to get in my mind. She wanted to see the extent of the obliviate so that the Dark Lord could send me back to the work I was doing sixth year as his insider at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord convened a meeting and everyone just sat there as he commanded me to look into her eyes and she tore my mind apart. It was all I could do to not let her know about Snape and Pansy polyjuicing into me. So I had to feed her something that she thought I was hiding in order to trick her. And I gave her you and the mirror and me reporting on the Death Eaters to you.” 

Terrified, Harry held Draco close to him. “How did you get out of that alive?” 

“I…I was tasked with a way of making it up to the Dark Lord. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is that they’re invading Hogwarts in two days. You have to be ready, Harry. They’re coming through the Room of Hidden Things. You have to be there, Harry. You have to fight the Dark Lord. It’s now. It’s happening now.” 

“Draco—” 

“I have to go. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Draco, there’s one more thing.” 

Harry stopped him, holding him by the shoulders before he could leave the safety of the cloak. “I need you to do me a favor.” 

Tearing up, Draco held Harry so close and so tight, whispering in his ear, “Anything, Harry.” 

“If at all possible, take him by surprise. Get his wand to me. If you get his wand to me, I can do it. I can win.” 

Draco pulled back, looking Harry in the eyes. “The Dark Lord’s wand? Why?” 

“Please, Draco? Will you try?” 

Draco kissed him one last time. “Of course, Harry.” Then, just before he slipped out from under the cloak, he said, “I love you, Harry.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Leaving Harry behind, Draco emerged out into the alley and quickly began walking towards Knockturn. It wasn’t until he reached the end of Knockturn that he found his aunt waiting for him. 

She smiled. “Well done, Draco.” 

Chapter Text

He had figured out what was strange about the letter: Draco had signed it Norbert. Norbert, a dragon—Draco means dragon. He had gotten it. But what he hadn’t gotten is that Draco saw Norbert in Hagrid’s shack first year. And Harry hadn’t told him about that. Which means he remembered. And he remembered where they had first met.

It was possible these things could have been triggered, but it may also have been that Draco got his memories back.

Which left Harry wondering why he hadn’t said anything.

__________

Once again: breakdowns, bathrooms. It was far too much of a pattern for Draco’s liking.

Reaching a hand up, Draco ran his fingers along the scars across his chest, looking at them in the mirror past his open shirt. Bellatrix had been in his mind again, looking for this memory, but it was washed away with the obliviate. So instead, she gave him scenario after scenario, putting into his head exactly how Harry Potter would have torn him open, flayed him alive. And then she told him it was time to go take his revenge.

He buttoned up his shirt and grabbed his wand, ready to set off for Hogwarts once again.

__________

Draco was crouched behind a tree in the Forbidden Forest and he could see Harry making his way closer and closer. He had to wait—he knew he had to wait—until the time was right. He had to lure Harry close enough for the ambush. And then he could run to him and embrace him before everything came together because Draco wasn’t sure where all of this would leave them.

And it wasn’t like he had ever had a right to Harry’s love. In fact, he had never had a right to love Harry at all.

Unable to take it any longer, Draco ran to him and threw his arms around Harry, sobbing immediately.

Pulling him close, Draco whispered hurriedly into his ear, “They made me. They made me lure you here. I’m so sorry, Harry, I love you so much, please tell me you didn’t come alone?”

Harry held him back, tightly. “I know you have your memories back. I knew something was off. Everyone is waiting.”

Pulling back, Harry looked him in the eyes. “I love you, too, Draco. I want you to know that whatever happens, I love you. None of this is your fault. You did what you had to do. What I am about to do is what I have to do and it isn’t your fault and I’m sorry that I have to do it.”

“What?” Draco asked, but Harry was already pulling further from him, walking around him, as if he knew exactly where the trap was supposed to be.

Because Harry did. He had talked it out with Snape—there was only one horcrux left. Harry knew the last horcrux had to be destroyed to have any hope of the Dark Lord not rising again. Even if that meant that the last horcrux would have to be destroyed without Harry able to get his hands on the Elder wand. Because he just didn’t see any way that it was possible.

Draco watched in helpless horror as the Dark Lord sprung his trap.

When Voldemort appeared, Harry left his hands hanging at his sides, his wand still tucked away. He had accepted that he was going to die. More importantly, he had accepted that in order to stop Voldemort, he would have to die with or without the Deathly Hallows. And since he could see no way of obtaining the Elder Wand, Harry had already accepted within his heart that he was going to die today—soon—and he was going to stay dead. Forever.

At least he would see his parents again. And Sirius. They were waiting for him—he knew it.

With a deep breath, Harry steadied himself for the avada. But his concentration was ripped away when he saw the Dark Lord’s wand fly from his hand.

It whipped straight past him.

Into the waiting hand of Draco Malfoy.

Hand clutched white-knuckled on the Elder Wand, Draco collapsed to his knees, weak from the effort he had to spend in order to disarm such a powerful wizard of such a powerful wand.

Harry stood frozen for half a second too long as Voldemort screamed, his anger ruffling through the entire forest. Wandlessly, Voldemort disarmed Snape from next to him—Snape clearly distracted as he tried to mentally recalculate his own useless plan to get the Elder Wand to Harry—and before anyone could do anything, Voldemort yelled, “Avada kedavra!”

He was ready. Harry was ready for the green flash to hit him and to see his parents’ faces.

But again, it went directly past him.

Harry screamed in horror, his body already turning and starting to run as the killing curse hit Draco and he fell.

Completely ignoring the rest of the fight, the rest of everything, Harry ran to Draco, skidding to his knees beside him.

“No, no, no, no,” he chanted, not even aware that he was saying it. “No, no, please, not another one, please, no, not someone else.”

Dimly, Harry was once more aware of the dangers around them, sensing Voldemort finding his way through the forest, looking to reclaim the Elder Wand from Draco’s body before casting the killing curse again—this time towards his true mark.

Wanting just a moment alone, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them. Just so that he could have a moment to say goodbye to Draco. Because he never got to say goodbye to anyone. Even Sirius’ body vanished the second he died.

He placed a kiss on Draco’s forehead, glad that he had gotten that moment to tell Draco that he loved him back.

It was then, as he was attempting to get his sobs under control to evade Voldemort’s detection, that Harry realized Draco was the master of the Elder Wand. At least, he had to be, right? He couldn’t make sense of all that Snape had said earlier. But he knew what he just had seen—Draco had disarmed the Elder Wand from Voldemort. And there was a small element of choice in who the wand decided it wanted its allegiance to align with.

Harry had already put the invisibility cloak over them.

Reaching into his pocket, Harry withdrew the resurrection stone and placed it in Draco’s upturned, empty palm.

Besides, Harry had already decided he was going to die and not come back. If there was a chance the Deathly Hallows could work, he put all of his hope in them working for Draco.

Coming out from underneath the invisibility cloak, Harry noted that it had started to rain.

In the darkness of the thick depths of the forest, Harry stood. He still held no wand. As much as he wanted nothing more than to take revenge for Draco and kill Voldemort, he knew that he could not be the one to do that. He had to face this. There was no other way.

“Hey, Tom Riddle!”

Harry waited, hearing the mangled sound of anger that told him Voldemort was somewhere to his right.

“I’m over here!” Harry yelled. “Come and fight me! Show yourself!”

Suddenly, everything was blindingly bright.

When Harry was able to open his eyes again, he wasn’t in the forest at all. In fact, he didn’t know where he was.

Then, Harry saw Dumbledore and things began to make sense. He was dead.

The tension melted out of Harry’s shoulders. After years of fighting this battle, it was time for him to rest. To give it all up. Whether or not Voldemort could be killed after all of his horcruxes were destroyed was beyond Harry’s concern now. He had done his part—he had done all that he could. And now it was time for Harry to set it aside. Maybe, in whatever form of afterlife that existed, he could find a time to be happy. Happy and unafraid and surrounded by those that he loved.

The Deathly Hallows would bring Draco back to life and he would get over what happened eventually and live a fulfilling life full of joy. Hermione and Ron would grow up and eventually get old, Hermione likely changing the magical world somehow, Harry just knew. And everyone else he loved…they would live a life without being concerned about Voldemort. Just like Harry was now. It was all over.

“Harry,” Dumbledore began and Harry felt the calm leave him. There was one more thing that he had to do.

“How could you?” Harry started with.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, looking confused, and Harry continued on, not letting him speak yet. “You tried to sabotage the Deathly Hallows. For the sole reason that you didn’t want Voldemort to get his hands on the Elder Wand and guess what? It didn’t work, Dumbledore! Voldemort ended up with the Elder Wand anyway and I don’t have the Deathly Hallows and now I’m going to stay dead. And that’s fine, right? That’s what you were expecting all along, right? You knew that if you made the decision early on to put me into an abusive home and keep me there even when I came to you for help that I would idolize the magical world simply because it was an escape from the hell that you had put me in. You knew that that would make me die for it. The truth is that you can’t ask anyone to be a martyr. But you manipulate someone into turning themself into one. And that’s what you did to me, wasn’t it, Dumbledore?”

Harry laughed. “Well, it seems you succeeded, doesn’t it? I’m here. I’m dead. And there’s no Deathly Hallows. And the thing is, Dumbledore? I walked into that forest knowing it was a trap; I walked in there knowing that I was going to die and there was nothing I could ever do about it. And I did it anyway because it was the right thing to do. So I’m here. And I accepted my death and I didn’t even try to fight it. So, congratulations, Dumbledore. All your hard work to craft a seventeen-year-old martyr worked.”

After a small silence, Dumbledore spoke. “Are you quite done, Mr. Potter?”

Incredulous, Harry almost began yelling.

“If you would recall,” Dumbledore continued. “I told you that the true master of death is someone who does not seek to run away from death, but accepts that he must die and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”

“Yeah, thanks for the philosophy lesson. But turns out, I do know that. Through intimate experience. I didn’t run away, did I? I knew what was going to happen and I accepted it. And of course I know there are far worse things than dying.” Harry began to tear up, thinking of all of his lost loved ones. “When you’re the one that dies, it’s all over. You don’t have to worry about any of it anymore, you don’t have to fight anymore. But to be the one that survives…that’s worse than dying. To watch Sirius fall behind that curtain. To grow up without ever knowing my parents. To watch Draco die in the final moments of the fight—just before things ended for good. Being left behind is far worse than dying.”

“Exactly,” Dumbledore said, and smiled. That smile made rage begin deep in Harry’s stomach. “You understand these things. You, Harry, have mastered death.”

There was silence between them for a moment as Harry remained confused, attempting to understand what Dumbledore was saying to him.

“Are you ready to go back now, Harry?”

“Wait, what do you mean go—”

__________

He blinked his eyes open, wincing in the harsh light. His head hurt like hell and he reached a hand up, covering his eyes while they adjusted. Once he lowered it again, he realized he was in the hospital wing.

There were a few whispers as he began to sit up.

“He’s awake,” seemed to be what was repeated the most.

But he could also overhear more discussion. “We need to let him rest, we can’t all just go barging in there.” “But, please, can’t we just see him?” “We need to wait for him to be cleared by a mediwitch so that we can be sure—”

He then heard quite clearly, “Oh, out of my way!”

Ron came running around the corner and threw his arms around Harry.

For a moment, the world settled for Harry and he just held his best friend. They didn’t let go of each other as Ron began to whisper, “It’s over, Harry, it’s all over. You-Know-Who’s dead, it’s all over, you’re okay, it’s all over.”

Beginning to sob, Harry held his best friend closer. “I died,” he whispered.

“I know, Harry, I know. We tried to get you the Deathly Hallows in time, Harry, I’m so sorry that we—”

“The Deathly Hallows weren’t what brought me back. Dumbledore was there and he—he said all this about what really makes you the master of death and all of this and—” Abruptly, Harry pulled back. “If the Deathly Hallows aren’t what really make you the master of death then that means…” He stopped and all the fight left him. Slowly, Harry laid back down on the bed.

It meant that there was no hope for Draco.

And just like that, Harry began sobbing even harder.

Ron sat down on the side of the bed as Hermione walked in. Harry sat up again and his two friends hugged him, not needing to say anything but knowing that what Harry needed right now was just to be held.

__________

“Ronald, would you stop stomping?” Hermione said. “We’re looking for an invisible body, you could do a little better to try and not step on him.”

“This is how I walk! Is that a crime now?”

It had been almost thirteen hours since Harry had died. And he insisted on coming out to the forest to search for Draco. He had told his friends and other concerned parties that he simply wanted to recover Draco’s body—it had been well established that the Deathly Hallows were bullshit and weren’t going to help Draco so Harry had said that it was because, with everyone he lost, there were too many times where he never got to give them proper burials.

But it was a lie and he suspected his friends saw it through it regardless. Of course, Harry had hope that the Deathly Hallows would work anyway. How could he consider otherwise?

Harry stopped walking, staring at a spot on the forest floor. “Here.”

Both of his friends were still bickering a moment, but Hermione noticed that he had stopped.

“What is it, Harry?” She said as they both walked over. “Did you find him?”

“This is where I died,” Harry said. “Which means Draco should be…” Harry trailed off and walked directly to the spot that he was staring at, knowing in his bones that was where Draco would be.

He stopped and crouched down. Part of him didn’t want to reach his hand out to touch what he knew was in front of him—didn’t want to feel it confirmed. But there was another part of him that hoped he would reach out in this spot he knew to have left Draco and would touch nothing but dirt and leaves. That perhaps Draco had gotten up and walked away, alive and unharmed. Maybe he had just gotten lost in the forest, trying to find his way back to Hogwarts. Maybe he was disoriented, maybe his amnesia came back.

But no. Harry lowered his hand and felt there was definitely something there. A body.

He lifted up the corner of the invisibility cloak and once his eyes landed on Draco he jerked back, bursting into tears—the reality of seeing it was too much.

As he turned away, Ron was there for him to turn into and Ron wrapped his arms around his best friend while Harry sobbed. While he comforted Harry, Hermione approached Draco’s body.

Kneeling down on the earth next to him, Hermione pulled out her wand. She had brought along with her a shrunken body bag that she was going to bring to size and put Draco’s body in. She would then cover it with the invisibility cloak once more so Harry wouldn’t have to watch and she would bring him back to Malfoy Manor where his mother had arranged a casket and a funeral. He would be buried on the Manor grounds.

Hermione resized the body bag and was about to lift the invisibility cloak off of Draco’s body when she was silently disarmed.

In shock, she looked behind her to see Harry holding his wand, hers, and Ron’s. His eyes were cold. “Get away from him.”

“But, Harry—”

“Don’t take the invisibility cloak off of him. It’s one of the Deathly Hallows. He needs it. Don’t touch it.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, standing slowly. “All I’m going to do is move him into the body bag and we’ll take him back to the Manor. Narcissa has already arranged the funeral. Let’s bring him home. To his mum.”

“No,” Harry said and his voice was surprisingly steady. “We’re not going to touch him. No one is going to touch him. You have to at least give the Deathly Hallows their—their—their time to work.”

Both of his friends were quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to talk him down from this through his grief.

“Harry,” Ron started and the pity was clear in his voice. “It’s been over twelve hours and they haven’t worked yet. You can’t wait forever.” He didn’t want to start in on how the Deathly Hallows had been found in order to bring Harry back and that Harry had come back without them. Harry had told his friends about his conversation with Dumbledore and his friends had thought they had come to the conclusion that the Deathly Hallows were just a legend but that in the end, they did not conquer death. But Harry couldn’t let go.

Slowly, Ron put his hand over Harry’s that was holding the two extra wands. “It’s okay, Harry. He’s the last one—you aren’t going to lose anyone else to this war. I know it hurts. But you have to let him rest. You can’t wait forever.”

Moving carefully, Ron attempted to take his and Hermione’s wand out of Harry’s hand, and for a moment, Harry let him.

But then he jerked back, taking a step away from Ron.

“Put a stasis charm on him. Give him three full days. Please. At least that. Then…Then if he isn’t…Then we can…” Harry stopped, closing his eyes as the tears fell.

Once again, Ron took a small step towards him and worked the two wands out of his hand. “Okay, Harry,” he shushed. “It’s okay. Let’s give this back to Hermione and she’ll put the stasis charm on him.”

After he had removed the extra wands, he quickly tossed one to Hermione and Harry crumpled in half. He fell onto the forest floor, putting his head in his hands as he began to sob uncontrollably. Ron sat down next to him, hugging his friend close, trying to comfort him.

Hermione worked quietly, applying the stasis charm and then levitating Draco into the body bag. She didn’t remove any of the three Deathly Hallows so she quickly put an invisibility charm on the bag.

“Okay,” she said when she was done. “Let’s take him back to the Manor.”

Still crying—but softer now—Harry stood up. He gave a small nod and then pulled out his own wand. Casting quick before his friends could stop him, he put another spell on Draco.

Hermione turned to him, worried. “Harry, what did you just do?”

He shrugged. “Now no one can touch him until the three days are up. You can’t take the stasis charm off unless he wakes up and no one can remove the Deathly Hallows. For three days. And no one can try and put him in that casket yet, either. You’re giving him those three days. He deserves that much.”

With that, Harry turned and began to walk away from the place of death, wanting to be as far away as possible.

__________

Harry, Hermione, and Ron came to the Manor together, Draco with them. As they brought Draco inside, Harry seemed to have shut down. He wouldn’t look at anyone or talk to anyone. He just kept his eyes on the invisible spot that he knew to be Draco. Hermione had to quickly explain in hushed tones to Narcissa what Harry had done. But Harry didn’t note her reaction. He just pulled out his wand and levitated Draco all the way to his bedroom.

Closing the door behind him so that he wouldn’t be bothered or interfered with, Harry removed the invisibility charm and levitated Draco’s body out. He laid him on the bed, keeping him fully covered with the invisibility cloak. Then, after checking that the other two Deathly Hallows were laid in Draco’s hands, Harry sat down next to Draco’s lying form, his back against the headboard. He was determined to stay there until Draco woke up.

__________

Sitting in the parlor at the Manor, Bill Weasley sighed. “He really hasn’t come out? In two whole days?”

Ron and Hermione nodded, sitting across from him. “The only person he’ll let in is Narcissa,” Hermione said. “She went in shortly after I explained the situation to her and she also hasn’t left since. I don’t know if she believes in this whole thing or not or what it’s doing to her emotionally to have to deal with this and not have buried her dead son already, but the two of them are just holed up in there. The only thing I’m worried about is whether or not Harry is actually going to let this madness stop tomorrow like he promised originally.”

“He doesn’t even trust us,” Ron said. “Because we tried to convince him in the forest to let Draco be and rest finally. He hasn’t even let us talk to him. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Bill nodded. “I mean, Harry’s been through a lot in his life. He’s had a lot of trauma and been asked to do things that no one his age should have to do. And we still don’t really know how dying and coming back to life affected him. There’s a potential that this could have broken him. It could be just from the act of dying or the way that he walked into the situation willing to die or just a combination of this happening at the same time he lost Draco. Possibly even just a culmination of all of the trauma of his life. Harry might just have reached a breaking point. The problem is—like Hermione said—what are we doing to do when tomorrow comes around and Harry can’t move on? He said three days, but the chances of him letting it go after three are incredibly slim.”

Ron nodded. “Which is why we asked you to come here. He put some sort of spell on Draco so that no one could end this early. But I don’t know if that will actually expire at the end of the three days—or if he’ll just recast it. So we might need you to break it in the morning so we can have the funeral and let Draco rest.”

Sighing again, Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know how to tell you both this, but I probably won’t be able to break it quick. Especially if Harry is off it enough mentally to start deuling or something. We’ll need to get his wand away from him and get him at the very least out of the room. Preferably out of the Manor. And if Narcissa has bought into this as well, then there’s her to contend with. I can go talk to the Order and we can try and figure out a plan of action. I’ll be back here in the morning, though. Is it just you two here?”

“Right now, yeah,” Ron said.

“Okay. I’m going to have Remus come over here. He’ll keep an eye on things. Snape, McGonagall, and I will figure out what to do.”

Ron and Hermione just nodded, knowing that there wasn’t really anything else that could be done. Bill got up and left silently and not too long later, they explained the situation to Remus. But for now, all they could do was wait. They would see what the morning would bring.

__________

For the last three days as Harry sat in a chair next to the bed, Narcissa sitting on the other side, Harry had to resist the urge to uncover Draco’s face from the invisibility cloak. He just wanted to see him. But he wasn’t going to take any chances that it wouldn’t work. And now it was the third day.

Maybe if Draco just had a little longer for the Deathly Hallows to work…

But no. He had said three days. And he was sure his friends were going to do something about it soon.

As if on cue, the door opened and Remus, Snape, and Bill Weasley all entered the room.

“It’s time, Harry,” Remus said. And Harry wasn’t stupid—he could tell Bill Weasley had his hand on his wand in his pocket.

“But he—” Harry started. Remus laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you come with me? Let’s go sit in another room and you can say goodbye to Draco at the funeral.”

For a moment, Harry just stared at the invisible spot on the bed as his eyes filled with tears. Narcissa had her hand underneath the invisibility cloak, likely holding her son’s hand.

“Okay,” Harry whispered. Then, he stood.

Turning away from Draco was one of the hardest things that Harry had ever done. Remus took him by the shoulders and guided him out of the room, closing the door behind him. Then they began to walk down the hallway, Harry in a daze.

Back in the room, Bill stepped forward, hand off of his wand now. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he said gently. “I can go ahead and remove the Deathly Hallows from Draco and then Snape will bring him down to the casket. Would you like to stay with him while we do this, or would you like to wait and have us call you in once he is in the casket?”

“I—” Narcissa began before she paused, finding it hard to speak past her grief. “I think I would like to wait here with him. I know I have to, but I’m not sure I’m ready to leave him yet—” She cut off, her eyes jumping down to her hand.

“What is it, Mrs. Malfoy?” Bill asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just not ready to leave him yet. You can go ahead.”

Bill and Snape shared a nod and Bill removed the invisibility cloak from Draco’s body that no one had seen in nearly three days.

To the surprise of everyone in the room, Draco wasn’t pale. His lips were a healthy pink and his skin had a living flush to it.

Moving closer, Bill dropped the invisibility cloak to the side and held his hand just below Draco’s nose.

Blinking, Bill withdrew his hand. Then, before saying anything, he checked again.

“Mrs. Malfoy, he—he’s breathing.”

Everyone in the room looked at each other, confusion clear on their faces. Because if the Deathly Hallows had worked, wouldn’t Draco have woken up already?

Working quickly, Bill removed the rest of the Deathly Hallows and set them to the side. Then, he pulled out his wand and ran a quick assessment on Draco.

Clarity washed over his face. “He still has the stasis charm on,” he breathed.

In a few simple movements, Bill removed the charm and everyone in the room held their breath, waiting beyond hope for something to happen.

And sure enough, Draco’s eyes opened.

He looked sleepy and weak, but his eyes found his mothers. “Mum?” He looked around the room, not even lifting his head with how weak he looked. “Mum, what happened? I don’t remember.”

Narcissa’s eyes looked sad, likely remembering how recent it was that her son suffered from amnesia. “What do you remember, dear?”

Draco was silent a moment, breathing deep like speaking was difficult. “I remember…Bellatrix. Gave me the memories back. And then…Harry. It was a trap. And then. I took the Dark Lord’s wand. And after that…Nothing. How did I get here?”

The room silently sighed in relief, knowing that Draco did not once again have amnesia.

“Where’s Harry?”

“You’ll see him in just a moment, dear,” Narcissa assured him. “How are you feeling?”

Again, Draco was silent, catching his breath before speaking. “Weak.”

Bill and Snape exchanged a look before Bill put the Deathly Hallows back so they were making contact with Draco, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

Narcissa took the time to explain the full story to Draco, including the parts about Harry dying and how Draco’s death affected Harry.

“So you understand,” Snape said. “Why we need to prepare Harry before bringing him in here and do it very carefully. We’re not really sure about his mental state right now.”

“I understand,” Draco said, his voice quiet. “I want…” He took a few breaths. “To see him, but I also want…to sleep.”

Narcissa nodded. “Yes, dear, you need your rest. That was a lot to take in. Why don’t you go back to sleep and Snape and Bill can go talk to Harry? I’ll be right here, dear.”

Draco said “Okay” and it was barely audible before he succumbed to sleep. When he woke up again, Harry was sitting next to him on the bed, his back against the headboard.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Harry said, a smile on his face. “Welcome back to the land of the living. You know, I think you and I took different routes back.”

Draco laughed lightly, still feeling weak. “Yeah, but let’s not do it again.”

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair. “Yeah. Let’s not. Let’s just stay right here for a while.”

Draco smiled up at Harry. “I agree. It’s time to rest.”

Chapter Text

Harry and Draco decided to be friends.

Well, at first, it wasn’t entirely their decision. After things calmed down, Harry’s legal guardianship was given to Remus and the two of them moved Harry’s things into Grimmauld Place. Most of the students at Hogwarts continued on for the rest of the year, but certain students had decided to not return for the remainder of their sixth year. Hermione, of course, went back to school in January after practically having driven herself insane taking off just a month and a half. Ron tried to convince Molly to let him have the entire year off, but she wouldn’t allow him to be the only Weasley not in school, so he also returned then along with Draco’s friends. By the time January rolled around, Harry and Draco were the only ones not back in school yet. They were both taking self-study on their classes with the occasional tutor, and planning on returning in their seventh year. But it was lonely, for a time.

Remus and Narcissa had apparently had a conversation while things were still calming down and had decided between the two of them that it wouldn’t be healthy for Draco and Harry to pursue a relationship outside of friendship. All it took was Remus catching them kissing a week after they had both come back from the dead and suddenly, many of their interactions were supervised.

Draco thought it was ridiculous. Part of Harry was inclined to agree with him, but he had also never experienced an adult looking out for him before and he and Remus sat down to have a discussion about the situation, like adults.

That being said, it wasn’t as if Remus and Narcissa kept Harry and Draco away from one another. They had made it clear that the boys should not be pursuing a romantic relationship right now, as they both had a lot to deal with, but they also knew that there was only one other person on the planet who would also understand what each boy had gone through with dying and coming back to life.

So they spent a good portion of their sixth year like this. Like they were now—Harry was flying lazy circles a little ways off the ground in the backyard of Grimmauld Place while Draco quizzed him on answers for the History of Magic quiz they were supposed to complete by the end of the week.

They were alone—for the most part. Remus and Narcissa often did this, letting the boys have a space where they could talk freely with each other, but also knew full well that Remus would be peeking out the window every now and again.

“Look, I don’t know, Draco,” Harry said. “Can we move on to something else?”

“Sure,” Draco said, setting the book he was holding down on the grass. “You still haven’t brewed the two potions we’re sending in later this week. Do you want to work on that?”

Harry groaned, bringing his broom to a stop and hopping off. “Don’t we have anything to work on that isn’t so terrible? Any charms?”

“You already wrote your charms essay.”

Joining Draco on the blanket they had laid down, Harry searched through the piles of parchments that detailed their assignments. “I’d rather work on the charms stuff for next week than the potions stuff. Can’t I just do your defense homework and you do my potions homework?”

Draco yanked out of Harry’s hands the defense textbook he had just picked up. “No, Potter, because that would be cheating.”

“Did you just call me Potter?” Harry asked, mock offended.

But Draco just smiled playfully. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it…Potter?”

For a moment, both boys just smiled at each other, stuck in the space of time where they were leaning so close to one another. And then Harry remembered the conversation he had with Remus about how he and Draco needed to focus on themselves and their trauma and not a relationship. If one developed naturally, that was okay, but they hadn’t really known each other in this context for a long time and most of it was while Draco had lost his memory. They both had things that they needed to heal from, both personally and in their friendship.

So Harry sat back with a small inhale of disappointment before collecting himself and smirking. “I’m sure a quick seekers game would settle the score.”

“Oh, you’re on, Scarhead.” Draco picked up his broom and the two of them took off, only finishing when Remus called them down a few hours later and threatened to make them come inside to work on homework if they couldn’t focus outside.

And so most of their sixth year and the following summer proceeded in the same way. Harry and Draco outside either at Grimmauld Place or the Manor, joking and laughing (and occasionally studying). When the two returned to Hogwarts the following year, they were practically inseparable.

Their friend groups started hanging out together and Harry was beginning to suspect that Pansy’s constant playful flirting with Hermione wasn’t solely to freak Ron out anymore. And he quickly learned to not be jealous or threatened by how close Blaise and Draco were. But even Harry’s own friendship with Ron had changed. And no one seemed to understand him like Draco. No one knew what that experience had been like.

Looking back on those couple years now that he was twenty, Harry was grateful that he and Draco hadn’t jumped into things. Their friendship was exactly what he needed and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

__________

A knock on the doorframe. “How’s the Golden Boy?”

A smile on his face, Harry set down the piece he was staining and turned to see Draco in the doorway of his shop. “I’m alright. How’s your apprenticeship?”

After Hogwarts, they had both taken a few years off. Staying focused on their education had helped them get through the rough years following their trauma but then each wanted to take the time to process it before going into working. After half a year, Draco proclaimed he was “going insane” and took an apprenticeship. He would be working for many years under the current potions master for the Unspeakables, hoping to one day take over that position. During his own year off, Harry’s therapist had suggested that it would be good for him to do something with his hands. And so, Harry had taken up woodworking. Turned out he liked it so much that he turned it into his life. He liked having created something—something that was actually useful like the table he was currently building.

“It’s alright,” Draco said, setting down his potions bag next to the door where he knew it would be covered in sawdust immediately. “How’s business?”

Harry sighed, looking around the small shop he had made at Grimmauld Place. “I’m thinking about moving.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “Moving? What do you mean?”

Harry shrugged. “I need to expand. The shop’s too small and I want to get a table saw and there’s no way in hell it’s going to fit in here. I’m thinking of getting someplace out in the country.”

“Oh,” Draco said. “That’s…understandable.”

Harry wiped his hands off on a rag and then leaned against his worktable. “You sound sad.”

“I don’t know. Depending on how far you move, it might mess up my plans.”

“Your plans?” Harry laughed. “What do you mean?”

Draco shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, what do you mean?”

“Harry, I—” Draco shrugged one shoulder up to his ear, clearly uncomfortable. He stared at the sawdust covering his shoes. “I never stopped having feelings for you.”

Harry’s shoes came into Draco’s line of vision, the points of the toes lining up with his. Then, Harry tilted his chin up to meet his eyes. “I never stopped having feelings for you, either.”

“Do you think we’re still too young? I know I protested a lot as a kid and I thought that it was ridiculous that my mother and Remus wanted to stop us from a little harmless kissing, but I look back on it and I’m so grateful that they did because we were just kids and we would have fucked it up. And part of me hasn’t wanted to say anything all these years because I’m still worried that…I’m still worried that we’re still too young. And that I’ll just fuck it up. That I’m still dealing with too much trauma and I’m still too broken to take on the responsibility of loving someone else. And that maybe—”

Harry kissed him.

“Why did you do that?” Draco whispered. “I don’t appreciate being interrupted, Potter.”

Harry laughed a little. “Sometimes we’ve got to shut off that overthinking brain of yours.” Then, Harry stepped back, giving Draco some space. “Sure,” he began. “We’re still definitely traumatized. And still dealing with that. But we’re going to be dealing with it for the rest of our lives, to some extent. But I want to move on. The shop’s going great and I love what I do and you’re loving your apprenticeship. I’m ready for…normalcy. I want a normal kind of quiet life where I settle down with someone that I love and I have a family.

“I know that that doesn’t have to be the goal, but it is what I want. And sometimes I think about how I’m only twenty and it’s so strange to be wanting to start down the path that will lead me to have a family and everything, but I think dying showed me what’s important to me. If there’s anything that’s going to make a person grow up faster, it’s trauma. And I just…I think I’m ready. I think I’m ready to have a life. And that’s the life that I want.”

He paused a moment. “And I couldn’t imagine having that life with anyone else. You’re the only one who really understands what I went through. And I think Remus and Narcissa made a good point when we were younger that they wanted us to make sure that we didn’t just love each other because of the heightened emotions of everything going on. But these years that we’ve spent as friends have shown me that…I love you for so many more reasons.”

Taking it all in, Draco found himself about to cry, overwhelmed with emotion. Reflexively, he shook that off by saying, “Oh, Potter, if you’re trying to ask me to go live in the countryside with you, you can just say it.”

Harry laughed. “I know you’re joking. But I’m not. We’ll get connected to the floo network—it won’t be the quickest floo trip for you every morning, but there are a good many days that you work from home anyway just to get a quieter place to brew where you’re not interrupted. Look, Draco, I’ve been looking at some places. And we can definitely find somewhere that has room for my shop and a space for a whole room dedicated to potions. We’ll make it unplotable, we’ll have some extra rooms for…for someday. If you’d like that.”

“Harry, do you mean children?”

Because of the seriousness of the conversation, Harry forced himself to not pick at the hem of his shirt or look down at the ground. “Someday. I know we’ve never discussed any kind of future together because for so long, we’ve been just trying to get through the day-to-day. But I’m ready to talk about the future. And I know we’re really young and we’re not ready for kids or anything, but I just think…Well, I just think we could get someplace that would have space for them. The possibility of them.”

Draco smiled. “‘Them,’ plural? What exactly am I signing up for here, Potter?”

Harry laughed. “Can you stop calling me Potter when I’m confessing my love to you and detailing our future together?”

Draco laughed as well. “Of course not, darling.”

“Oh, I know a solution then.”

As Draco raised an eyebrow at him, Harry stepped forward and pulled Draco to him. “Maybe if we just make it so my name’s not Potter any longer, then you won’t be able to—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Draco put a hand against his chest, pushing him away. “You’re keeping your last name, that’s for sure.”

Harry took in his hand the one of Draco’s that was against his chest. “Why, don’t want me to take Malfoy?”

“With the history? Absolutely not. Especially since we’re talking about children. You know, if there’s any ‘legacy’ that needs to end, it’s the Malfoy line. Let’s make something new out of it.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you want to take my last name?”

Draco nodded. “I think that would be preferable.”

Harry smirked. “So what I’m hearing is you do want to marry me.”

Draco yanked his hand away. “I’m not some lowlife, Potter, you will have to actually ask me properly.”

Harry leaned back against the worktable behind him. “Oh, I’ll find a time. I’ll surprise you.”

“It takes a lot to surprise me.”

“Well, we’ll see then, won’t we?”

“I suppose we will,” Draco said.

Coming closer once again, Harry smiled. “You’d like that, though?” Both knew that he was referencing not a surprise, but everything. The house, the relationship, the potential of children someday.

“Yes. I would like that very much, Harry.”