Title: Without Sound of Bells
Author: scarlet_malfoy
Team: AU
Prompt: 22. I think I saw a Pensieve like this once...
Wordcount: 20,000
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, frottage, mutual wanking, time travel, language, spoiler warning: major character death
Summary: What would the world be like if Harry and Draco had been friends since the beginning?
Author's Note:
1. Title from the poem "At Melville's Tomb" by Hart Crane.
2. Direct dialogue borrowed from pages 77-79 of the American version of Philosopher's Stone, written by JKR, not me!
3. Harry and Draco were born a year earlier (June 23rd and July 31st, 1979) and because their birthdays occurred so late in the school year, Dumbledore and the Malfoys had the option of waiting a year before sending them to school. Both took that option.
4. Thank you to dark_branwen, lap_otter, maja_li, and thesamanthahope for the time they spent beta'ing and deliberating with me - it made all the difference in the world! And thanks to my AU teammates and my AMAZING captains, joanwilder and thesamanthahope, and to all the wonderful fest Mods!

Without Sound of Bells

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Five Years Earlier...

Draco Malfoy was bored, and his arms were going numb. Still, he held them out for as long as Madam Malkin fiddled with the sleeves of his new Hogwarts robes.

"That's a little tight," he said to her when, at a flick of her wand, he felt his robes stretch uncomfortably across his chest.

She eyed him, as if blaming him for having grown in the months since he had been in her shop. "Sorry, dear. Next size up, then?"

Draco looked up at her and shrugged, not entirely sure what good his input would do, when the door to the shop opened, the bell tinkling in accord.

"Another for Hogwarts, dear?" Madam Malkin asked, turning away from Draco for the moment. He sighed in relief, letting his arms fall to his sides and looking over his shoulder to see who had walked in.

It was a boy. He was small and skinny and wearing very strange clothes. Draco hadn't seen Muggle clothes more than once or twice in his life, but he was almost positive that was what this boy was wearing. His glasses were broken and too big for his face. The boy’s confusion and apprehension at being in the shop made Draco utterly curious about him.

The boy nodded timidly at Madam Malkin before turning to look out the window. Draco followed his line of vision. With a start, Draco recognized the Giant Man making his way down the street away from the shop. Draco felt his pulse quicken; he had always been wary of the Giant Man. Father didn't like him, and Draco had only ever heard terrifying stories about Giants. No other Giants went about with Wizards like this one did, and the few times Draco had caught a glimpse of him he'd held tighter to his father's hand.

But the boy didn't look like he was afraid of the Giant Man at all. Rather, he looked like he wanted to run out into the street after him, as if the boy was more afraid of being left alone in the robe shop without him.

Draco thought the boy must have been pretty brave to be friends with the Giant Man.

"Come on, dear… step up onto the footstool next to Mr. Malfoy, and I'll be right with you." Madam Malkin retreated through a door, presumably to fetch more robe cloth.

Draco looked round at the boy again, but he hadn't moved. He was staring at Draco now, almost as if the boy were afraid of him.

"Are you a first year?" Draco asked, tilting his head and turning to see the boy better. The sun was filtering in through the window at a strange angle, reflecting off his glasses and making him look like a bug.

"Yeah," the boy admitted, staring down at his feet.

"Oh, me too," Draco said, and the boy looked at Draco again, seeming to have gained a measure of confidence. He crossed the length of the shop and climbed unsteadily onto the footstool next to him. Draco wasn't much taller, and he hadn't come across many kids his age who were thinner than he was.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco offered. “I'll probably be in Slytherin. Whole family's been for ages, you know."

The boy smiled sheepishly. "I don't really know what slithering means," he admitted. Draco's eyebrows rose, but before he could reply the boy went on. "Oh! My name's Harry Potter."

Draco's eyebrows rose exponentially higher, and his mouth dropped open as well. "You're… no, you're not! What do you mean, you're Harry Potter?"

His whole life he had heard about Harry Potter. Father always brought him up when he was making jokes, normally ones that weren't meant for Draco's understanding. Even though the jibes usually went right over his head at the dinner table, it was impossible for Draco to misinterpret the fact that Father really didn't like Harry Potter at all.

Mother told him stories about a baby boy with more power than a grown Wizard, who had killed the man Father worked for. Draco didn't think Father should have blamed a baby for something like that. It wasn't as if a baby could decide to kill somebody. He probably hadn't been able to control his magic yet. When Draco had mentioned his theory to his father, he had been sent to his room without supper, and Father hadn't looked him in the eye for weeks. Draco had been devastated.

He only talked to Mother about Harry Potter after that. She told him that Harry Potter was almost exactly his age. He hadn't ever considered the fact that the real Harry Potter might be going to Hogwarts with him. Surely a baby with that much magic had to be more powerful than Merlin now at age eleven or twelve.

Draco stared at the other boy, who seemed to be frozen in place, terrified again. And then Draco's eyes drifted to his forehead, where there was a scar.

"Are you really him?" Draco whispered, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

The boy nodded, sticking his hands deep into the pockets of his weird blue trousers and worrying his lower lip.

Draco tilted his head, trying to decide if they boy was lying. He studied the boy's face, finding eyes that were open and blaringly green behind the round frames. There wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face, and he looked so nervous.

"So you're saying that you're Harry Potter. And you're friends with the Giant Man?" Draco asked.

The boy looked unsure for a moment, but then his eyes widened and he looked out the window briefly. "Do you mean Hagrid?"

"That might be his name. My father only mentioned it once or twice."

"Hagrid is my friend," the boy said, allowing himself a small smile. "And I've been Harry Potter my whole life."

"Wow," Draco breathed.

Harry shyly removed one hand from the depths of his pockets, and offered it to Draco to shake.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tuesday June 23rd, 1996

Draco had been less than enthusiastic about receiving the Dark Mark for his seventeenth birthday, but for his own safety he had had to act as if it were the best birthday present he had ever received.

It had been quite a ceremony, though most of it now was only a blur of remembered pain and fear. All members of the Dark Lord's inner circle had been present, and there had been several incredibly long incantations, chanting, and blood-red wine that had stained the Dark Lord's tight pale lips an ugly pink. The only thought with any staying power in his mind was of a night at the end of his fourth year, when Harry had dragged him down to the lake to inform him that Lucius was a Death Eater and that he needed to be careful and get out if things got bad.

As he was getting dressed for the evening in his finest black robes, he tried to tell himself that things weren't actually that bad. That getting the Mark meant next to nothing, that it would merely be an outward token with the potential to afford him valuable information or put him in the right place at the right time. That it might actually be a good thing.

Then, just before the Mark was burned into the skin of his left forearm, he was told exactly what it was the Dark Lord wanted from him. Find a way to get the Death Eaters inside of Hogwarts and get Dumbledore out of the way. Somehow, redeem the name of Malfoy before it crumbled and fell to pieces like an ancient statue that was not even pleasant to look at anymore.

Without the name of Malfoy redeemed, there could be no Malfoys under the Dark Lord's wing. Draco had wanted to throw up, and he very nearly had - until he looked up and saw his mother's face in the crowd, eyes wide with horror. His father was standing masked beside her, his body fighting the urge to curl in on itself.

There were long moments of complete silence from the watching crowd, broken only by cries that Draco had been too weak to stifle. The end of the Dark Lord's wand was like molten lead. If his arm hadn't been trapped, stuck against the table by magical force, he didn't think he would have been able to help retracting, falling to the floor and curling himself up into a tiny ball to die rather than live through the reality of the pain and the shame.

Afterwards, tables full of food and drink had materialized in front of him, and faceless people had come up to shake his good hand and congratulate him, as if he had just graduated from Hogwarts, or as if this were a benefit of some sort to honor him for having done a real service to society. Marcus Flint with his recognizable pigeon-toed gait had leaned in to whisper in his ear that he shouldn't feel bad. That everyone cried when they got the Dark Mark.

He made it through the majority of the party with his mother at his side, her cooling charms constant and surreptitious, but as soon as the Dark Lord and the other members of the inner circle retreated to have an executive meeting, Draco stumbled away from the thinning crowd. His mother watched him go with pain in her eyes, but she did not stop him.

After stumbling out one of the side doors and managing to find the small break in the hedges around the Manor property that he had dug out as a child, he Apparated just south of Little Whinging.

It came to him all at once, as his vision was bombarded with the foreign Muggle landscape, that he had no idea where Harry's street actually was. He wandered aimlessly for awhile, and though it was hot, he appreciated the fact that it kept the townspeople from traversing the streets with him. He was in no mood to be gawked at, and in even less of a mood to talk to anybody who was not Harry.

Darkness was just beginning to fall, and his arm throbbed so badly he thought he might pass out on somebody's well-manicured lawn. Then he recognized the name of Privet Drive on the street sign, and knew he was close. A few blocks later, he was standing in front of Harry's childhood home.

Harry had given him the address years ago, just in case, and so he was one of the very few people able to find Harry Potter during the summer months. But he had never actually come here, not until it had come down to this. He regretted that now, walking around to the back of the house and staring up at the window on the left. It had to be Harry's, judging from the empty owl cage in plain view of the half-open window. The magic that Dumbledore had left behind made it impossible for Draco to Apparate inside, but it could not stop several well-aimed pebbles from striking the glass.

Several moments passed in unsettling silence. Draco swallowed. He hoped it was Harry's room.

Then in the half-light, Draco saw first the tip of a wand appear, then the hand that was gripping the wand as it moved into view, and eventually Harry was visible in the sinking sun's light.

"Down here," Draco called. Harry's vision locked onto his, and his eyes widened in surprise. He threw the window open the rest of the way and stuck his head out.

"Draco! Bloody hell, what are you doing here?" he asked, grinning. "I'll be right down. Hang on!"

Harry disappeared from view, and Draco found himself alone in the quiet yard. The landscaping was nothing compared to the Manor's grounds, but it was pleasant enough and well kept. Draco turned a questioning eye to the grill next to the sliding screen door when fresh pain flowed through him like a wave, emanating from his left arm. He closed his eyes against it until he saw stars, and when he opened them again, he saw Harry in the doorway, waving him in.

He entered in past Harry, looking around at the strange white kitchen and turning to face Harry after he shut the door again.

"Where are your aunt and uncle?"

"Dinner party across town. Should be getting back pretty soon, actually, so let's go upstairs." Harry moved past him, motioning for Draco to follow. Draco forced himself along, though the desire to just collapse right where he stood was strong.

At the foot of the stairs, Draco took in the little door that led to the prison Harry had grown up in. He didn't understand how Harry could stand to live here still and be reminded every single day of what had happened to him. He glanced up at Harry ahead, taking the stairs two at a time and not paying the cupboard any mind at all. Not for the first time, Draco understood that his friend was a much stronger person than he was.

"I can't believe you're actually here," Harry said after they had entered his room, shutting the door behind them. In what seemed like a single, fluid motion Harry came forward and was hugged him tightly around the shoulders. Draco winced. Harry had just grazed his arm, hadn't even come anywhere near the Mark, but the pain was pulsating, the echo of it aching just behind his eyes. With his good arm, he hugged Harry back as well as he could.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was coming." Draco's voice was tight. After Harry pulled away, Draco gripped his left wrist tightly with his other hand, as if pressure and rigidity could ease the pain.

"Are you kidding? I've been hoping to hear from you all summer! You look terrible. Did something happen?"

Draco swallowed, frozen and feeling very ashamed as Harry stared at him, taking in his hand clutching hopelessly at his left wrist. Slowly, Harry came forward and tugged Draco's right hand away, then gently pulled his left sleeve up to his elbow. Draco hissed.

Harry stared at the Mark for several seconds before sitting down on his bed and looking up at Draco with unreadable eyes. "Why didn't you get out of there? Before they could…"

Draco sat down on the edge of the bed opposite Harry, his heart racing. He hadn't looked at it yet. The moment Harry's eyes had drifted over his skin was the first time Draco himself had taken in the raw detail of the figure now carved into his skin. Angry tears formed in his eyes as he stared down at it.

"I thought it would be all right. And maybe even… a good thing, I thought maybe… they trusted me." As he said it, he realized just how untrue it was. How untrue it always had been.

Harry scooted closer, surprising Draco as he put an arm over his shoulder as gently as possible. "Deep breaths, okay? Need a glass of water? Milk? Juice?"

At the thought of beverages, Draco remembered the wine from earlier and the drunken Death Eaters stumbling all over themselves with glee at his Marking. Draco felt like throwing up again, but he just leaned against Harry, not quite sure he deserved such warmth. "Maybe some water," he said quietly.

"Right. I'll go get that. You stay here and keep breathing, okay? Maybe have a lie down." Harry stood and gently nudged Draco towards the requested position.

As soon as Harry stepped out into the hallway, Draco felt entrenched in the darkening room, afraid of the unseen corners of it. The dark came at him from all sides. If he hadn't been lying on top of Harry's firm mattress and old, worn comforter, he feared that he would no longer be solidly anchored to reality. He sat up slowly so as not to aggravate the skin on his left forearm until he could lean his head against Harry's headboard.

This was the house Harry had lived in his entire life, where he had been mistreated and abused. This room, so bare and empty (save for a shelf of broken gadgets not his own) contained everything Harry had in the entire world. Everything. Most of it fit into a trunk. There were some clothes in the closet and some papers and books on top of his desk, but that hardly constituted much. When Draco had been little, he'd imagined the young Harry Potter might live in a castle, and most certainly would be treated like a prince, with reverie and awe. The Harry Potter of his youth had been merely a comic book figure, but the real Harry Potter was human beyond measure.

Draco thanked the powers that be that he knew the real Harry. And that Harry didn't hate him for what had happened tonight.

Draco jumped as the door creaked open. "I'm back," Harry whispered, shutting the door and offering a tall glass to Draco.

As he brought the glass to his lips, he realized that he was in fact incredibly thirsty. He drained most of it before setting it on Harry's desk. Then he let his head fall back against the headboard again. Harry sat down beside him as easily as if he'd been sitting down next to him in the library for a study session, and Draco couldn't help himself.

"Harry… if you're angry, please don't hide it from me."

"What?" Harry shifted away slightly. "As if I could honestly hide something from you, Mr. Legilimency."

Draco shifted, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Nothing! I wasn't being serious, I just… listen," Harry sighed. "I'm upset, but not angry. I know this was never something you would choose for yourself." He leaned closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder again. "We've talked about this as a possibility before, and you always seemed determined to use it against Voldemort if it came down to it. Even though you know that we could hide you and keep you safe, but you won't take that option, will you?"

Draco looked at Harry, unable to see very clearly in the darkening room, but knowing Harry's outline by the faintest of shadows and ridges. "My family is in danger, Harry. I can't desert them," Draco sighed. "And you, you're just too fucking good to be true. But… I don't know what I'd do if you weren't," he admitted, feeling out of breath. "Harry. I have to tell you, and I'm sure you know… it's not safe for us to be seen as friends. We've got to… I don't know, fake a falling out or something."

Harry scowled and looked down, reaching toward Draco's left hand and being careful not to actually touch it. "Give me your arm," he said. "I've got something that will help."

"You don't get it!" Draco said loudly, sitting up. "If any of them think for one minute that I've got access to you, and I haven't done anything to capture you, Harry - fucking hell, they'd kill me! And if they followed me, they could get to you, and it would be my fault…"

"I get it." Harry withdrew his outstretched arm. "No talking in public. Some kind of falling out. We can work out the details later, but we're here right now, and this isn't public. Right now, you need me."

Under his breath he added, "And I need you."

Draco wished he could have done anything but nod and lamely offer Harry his arm after that.

"What kind of Muggle concoction is that, anyway?" Draco wondered.

"Neosporin," Harry answered, balancing Draco's arm on his knee so both hands were free to twist off the cap. "It's kind of like a healing potion, but it's an ointment. It's not perfect, but it should help some of the pain and keep it from getting infected." He squirted a generous amount onto his finger as he spoke, then tucked one hand under Draco's elbow and gently began to apply it in short strokes.

Draco held his breath, but let it out slowly after several tense moments. The whole area was raw and sore, and though Mark itself didn't burn, the reddened skin around it did. Harry's fingers applied the gentlest of pressures, and the ointment was wonderfully cool.

He wished the Dark Lord could see him now. See Harry Potter himself touching the Mark, unafraid and unabashedly touching him. It felt like a healing, or a blessing. This Mark would be nothing more than a blemish upon his skin now. He thought he could stand to be in their presence again with the thought of Harry in mind - this picture in mind - of Harry so diligently and carefully attending to him. Draco let himself stare and soak in the sight of him like he'd never allowed himself to before.

"It feels better already," he admitted.

"Good." Harry finished the task slowly, covering the area in a thick layer and placing a bit of gauze over it. When he was done, he wiped his hand on his pajama bottoms and avoided looking at Draco.

"I'm worried about you."

Draco sighed, letting his head fall onto Harry's shoulder. "I know. I am too."

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

Harry paused, shifting. "I want you to stay here tonight."

Draco's eyes widened in the now almost complete darkness of the bedroom. He found himself entirely grateful for the absence of light. He knew that the only person who would miss him tonight was his mother, maybe his father, but certainly not the Dark Lord. As soon as the Marking was over, he had moved on to other matters, had hardly noticed him. And the rest of the Death Eaters were probably still drinking themselves into oblivion.

"Okay."

He felt and heard Harry's exhalation of breath, and couldn't help himself from partaking in a small smile. Of course, he knew why Harry had asked. He knew they were both worried that they'd never get to see each other again freely like this. Those days were gone. And like Draco, Harry wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could.

Harry let him borrow a tee-shirt and a pair of pajama pants that would have fallen completely off his waist if he hadn't held them up before lying down. It was weird at first, lying next to one another in the same bed. Draco was hyper-aware of Harry's every breath and movement, and very conscious of his own. But it was nice being able to lay there, nervous but entirely unafraid, with the one person he knew he could trust without a doubt.

Just as Draco was drifting off, he felt Harry shifting beside him, and he opened his eyes, his brain fuzzy as he stared into the darkness.

"Happy birthday," Harry whispered. A moment later, almost in slow motion, Harry's arm moved to lay across his chest. Draco would have told himself Harry had done it in his sleep, only he had just spoken out loud. He found himself frozen solid, the idea of moving or speaking so foreign that all he could do was lay there, trying to comprehend the warmth encompassing him.

His heart sped up, but still he couldn't move. Harry's arm moved a fraction, and Draco had the feeling he was about to pull away.

He closed his eyes, sighing in both relief and frustration as he found the courage to face Harry. Finding himself facing Harry's chest and not Harry's eyes, Draco found it within himself to place a tentative hand on Harry's waist.

"Thank you," Draco whispered, feeling Harry's arm come back around him with more assurance and purpose. He felt a strange pull in his stomach, and for a brief second feared that he had accidentally begun to Apparate.

But Harry's hand was running slowly up and down his back, anchoring him in place, and for some inexplicable reason, he thought of his mother, alone in a house filled with Death Eaters. Tears stung his eyes, but he clung to Harry, and for the first time that night did nothing to stop them from falling.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tuesday March 11th, 1997

Draco was having breakfast when the barn owl landed in front of him with the letter. He recognized it as one of the school owls, and Draco knew even without opening it who had sent it. Before Crabbe or Goyle could ask about it, he stood and made his way toward the doors. He glanced quickly up and down the length of the Gryffindor table, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

He chose to read his letter in the ghost girl's bathroom, since he had learned over the past few months that it was unlikely he would ever be disturbed there. He glanced quickly into each of the stalls to be sure, but they were all empty, and Myrtle seemed to be off down one of her pipes. Leaning back against the sink, he unfolded the note.

Got out of the hospital yesterday. My head's fine, McLaggen is just an idiot, in case you were wondering, though it doesn't really seem like you are. Met with Dumbledore again last night. Would really like to talk to you. Meet me in the usual place after class. I'll be under my cloak.

H.

"Discreet. Very discreet, Harry," Draco mumbled, lighting the letter on fire with the tip of his wand and dropping it into the sink behind him. He turned the water on and watched the ashes disappear down the drain. The toilet in the corner startled gurgling in response. Draco turned on his heel and was out the door before he was forced to deal with the weepy ghost.

Draco had taken to carrying the Hand of Glory around at all times. In the beginning of the school year, he mostly hadn't wanted to leave it in the dorm room with the knowledge that other people would be near it without him there, but things had taken quite a different turn just several months later. A keen sense of paranoia had taken refuge in his skin. Nightmares plagued him; the Dark Lord murdered his mother nightly in his dreams. He was almost glad for all the things he had to do, if they kept him from his bed a bit longer each night.

He didn't think he was any closer to completing either of his tasks for the Dark Lord, even though everything he had went into trying.

His feet took him to the seventh floor corridor automatically. He used only the least popular corridors, and he knew which creaky steps needed avoiding. He also had several stopping places along his route where he could hide and listen for the sound of footsteps. All seemed clear on this night, most likely because the majority of the school was in the Great Hall for dinner.

Though he wasn't sure what they were going to have to say to one another, his thoughts were centered on the fact that he was going to be seeing Harry again at all. They had met up only a couple of times during the year so far, both times after days Harry had had his lesson with Dumbledore. All four common rooms buzzed in contemplation of the so-called secret meetings of Harry and Dumbledore on those nights, and Draco had almost come to expect an owl from Harry the next day.

Harry never disclosed anything in their meetings, of course - neither did Draco - though each time Harry had seemed more and more agitated and unsure. Things had been a bit distant between them. Draco thought that was to be expected since they couldn't allow themselves a public friendship and couldn't freely converse with one another anymore. Still, Draco was convinced there was something else behind it, too. Something that had to do with Harry's arms falling around him on his birthday, and the feeling in the pit of his stomach that was almost more torturous to recall than his failed attempts at fixing that damned cabinet.

He almost jumped out of his skin when an invisible hand grabbed him by the elbow.

"Shh, s'me," Harry whispered, leading him down the hall. He didn't let go as they paced back and forth three times. It was a welcome relief when the door finally appeared, and Harry let go of his arm.

Draco shut the door behind them and turned just in time to see Harry pulling off his cloak. The Room of Requirement had given them two cushy-looking chairs, a small table filled with plates of biscuits, two tall glasses of pumpkin juice, and a small lit fireplace. Everything was the same as the last two times but for the added delight of the biscuits and juice.

"Hungry or something?" Draco asked, moving to take a seat in one of the chairs, but Harry came forward to block him.

"What the hell is going on, Draco?" There was anger, hurt, and confusion surging behind Harry's eyes. Draco didn't know what to make of it. Harry gripped the cloak in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

"What are you talking about? Are you honestly sore that I didn't come to visit you in the hospital wing?"

"No, I don't care about that, you idiot!" Harry flopped down into one of the chairs, looking up at him with flashing eyes. "I care about the fact that you're running yourself into the ground, too tired from doing whatever you're doing to pay attention in class, coming here almost every single night to do something you won't tell me about, and you won't let me do anything to help!"

Draco froze. "How the bloody hell do you know I come here every night?"

"Sit down," Harry replied coolly. "And I, unlike you, will fill you in on a couple of things."

After a moment, Draco sat, unwilling to look Harry in the eye. It was true Draco had never confided in Harry about what he was doing, but he thought Harry had understood why he couldn't. He thought Harry knew that he had to protect his family above all else, that he wasn't going to let anything happen that might hurt Harry or his friends, and he didn't understand why Harry was jeopardizing everyone's safety by getting involved.

"Well?"

"I saw you go into Borgin and Burke's last summer."

"You… you what? And you never said-"

"Shut up for two seconds, will you? I'm not finished!" Harry angrily picked up a biscuit and bit off a chunk. "I saw you heading into Knockturn Alley, so I followed you under the cloak. I stood outside the store until you came out again, and then I went back to Ron and Hermione. I never told another living soul. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Well gee, thanks. I'm glad I have the blessed Savior looking out for me," Draco mumbled under his breath.

"I trust you, arsehole. Do you think if I didn't I would have brought it up sometime in the past, oh, seven bloody months?"

Draco looked at him without derision for the first time that evening, knowing Harry was telling the truth, but still bitter that he hadn't known for such a long time. Deep down, he knew he was bitter about the fact that they were forced to keep anything from each other at all. "What else?"

Harry exhaled slowly through his nose. "During Slughorn's party, I sort of… I overheard you and Snape." Draco's mouth fell open. "I know he really wanted to help you with whatever you do in here, but you wouldn't let him."

"That is none of your damn business!" Draco exclaimed, leaning forward on his elbows. "Just forget about it!"

"That's where you're wrong," Harry said, oddly calm now. "Everything about this war is 'my damn business' whether I like it or not."

"What else, then? Out with it!"

Harry actually bit his lip, and Draco just stared. "Saturday night, I asked two House Elves to find out where you've been sneaking off to, since I haven't been able to find you on the map. That's how I found out…" Harry gestured at the room.

"Yes," Draco concluded, barely able to control his outrage. "Yes, I can clearly see how it is that you trust me! Really, very obvious. Wonderful demonstrations of trust!"

Harry stood up. "Draco, I do trust you! But I care about you, too, and I don't want to see anything happen to you! I didn't know where you were going!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't check in with you hourly and let you know where I am, Harry! Merlin!" Draco was on his feet too, and he walked to one of the corners of the tiny room, bracing his hands on either side of the wall. He could hear Harry's footsteps coming closer, and the fire burning and popping behind its grate. For several, moments no one spoke.

"It bothers me that you can't tell me, even though I know why you can't. And I respect that." Harry sighed. "I just hate it. If something happened to you and I couldn't find you, I'd never forgive myself. I'm sorry."

"Harry, listen." Draco turned, falling back into the corner and letting his head fall into the V. "I want to tell you. Believe me, if I could… I'd do it in a heartbeat." He looked up and into Harry's eyes, and felt his stomach pull again like it had in Harry's bed on his birthday. "I can't though, at least not yet. I will, when the time is right."

Harry was silent, staring at him in contemplation. He looked away, then quickly back at him. "Katie Bell and Ron. What about them? Can you tell me anything about that?"

Draco blinked and then shut his eyes, wishing a hole would open up in the floor to swallow him up. In truth, he had wondered constantly why Harry hadn't asked him about those incidents sooner. What could he say? What could he possibly say, without giving everything away, that would make what had happened to Katie and Ron seem even remotely acceptable?

"Please tell me, Draco."

Draco sighed shakily, eyes still closed. "Don't interrupt me."

"Okay," Harry said, quietly. "I won't."

He took a deep breath. "The effects of the necklace won't kill Katie. In a month and a half, the curse will lift and she'll be just fine. And Ron…" Draco opened his eyes then, feeling that he owed it to Harry to look him in the eye. "Even if you hadn't been there with your trusty bezoar, there was a time-released antidote inside that bottle. He would have been all right, given another couple of minutes." Draco didn't know what to do with his hands, so he crossed them. "And I know none of that makes it okay. But what you have to understand is that if I hadn't done something, Harry, the Dark Lord might have had my father send for me to come home from school, or he might have killed my mother to punish me and my father both, or something else equally horrible. That necklace wasn't meant for Katie, and that mead wasn't meant for Ron, but if I hadn't put even a half-hearted attempt out there, we might be dealing with something far worse here. Can you understand that? That I just didn't know what else to do?" His voice cracked and he looked away.

Harry nodded slowly, looking miserable. "Yeah, I… I get it now."

"I'm sorry," Draco added. "You don't know how sorry I am that it was Ron."

Harry almost cracked a smile. "You don't know how nice it is to hear you say that."

"There's a first and last time for everything," Draco grumbled.

After a moment, Harry took a small step forward. "You look horrible, Draco."

Draco laughed shortly. "Thanks."

"Are you sleeping at all?"

"I try not to. Nightmares have been absolutely horrible. I wake up with scratches all over me every morning, and they're a bitch to heal." He looked up. "You know how that goes, I'm sure."

Harry nodded regretfully. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

Harry came to lean against the wall next to him, close enough that their arms brushed. "I'm going to ask you something, and it's something I've asked you many times. If you're answer is still the same… I promise I'll never ask you again." Draco nodded. "I want you absolutely on my side, Draco, more than anything. I'm sorry I sound like a mother hen here, but… you're running around doing Merlin knows what on Voldemort's orders, and I just can't stand it. Can't stand to see you like his. We can protect you, Draco. There are places you could go, and more powerful wizards than me would be looking after you. Dumbledore will protect anybody who asks him. He will. Won't you consider it?"

Draco turned to him. "If someone asked you to step down from your post, Harry, on the promise of protection and because they were worried… would you?" Draco watched his eyes widen behind his glasses. "Would you give up on the people you loved who were counting on you? Could you forgive yourself if you let them die?"

"I don't suppose I'd do it either," Harry conceded most unwillingly, crossing his arms.

"I'm sorry, Harry. No Harry Potter card-pulling for you today." Draco watched a ghost of a smile form on his face. "You're not the only one expected to make sacrifices."

"I miss you, you know," Harry said quietly. "No one else makes fun of me with quite the same amount of decorum."

Draco laughed. "I miss you too, you ridiculous martyr of a Gryffindor."

"Draco."

He looked up in time to see Harry push himself away from the wall and turn to face him. Slowly, Harry lifted his arms up and placed them on the wall to either side of Draco's shoulders. All Draco could see was Harry.

Harry nervously licked his lips. Draco's stomach did not turn harmlessly in surprise - it felt like it was on fire, and the feeling was beginning to course through his veins to reach his limbs, effectively freezing him in place.

"I trust you, and I won't have you doubting that, okay? Ron and Hermione believe that we've had a falling out or whatever, but they can tell I still trust you, deep down. Since First bloody Year they've been on me about it, and I've gone against their supposedly better judgment, and I still do to this day, and it's driving me absolutely mad not being able to talk to you…"

Harry's face seemed to be floating before him, closer and closer until Harry's lips touched his. Draco had no idea how it happened, or why, or how to reciprocate. It had been months since he'd even had the time to properly daydream about snogging anyone. If anybody had told him a year ago that his first kiss might be happening with Harry Potter, he wouldn't have believed it for a second. But it was. It really, truly, breathtakingly was.

And it was terrible.

Harry's lips moved slightly over his, unsure. Draco knew that Harry had snogged at least once before in his life, though if he'd done any snogging this year Draco wouldn't have a clue. If he'd had to wager a guess based on Harry's current performance, he would have said probably not.

Draco opened his lips slightly, heart pounding, hoping it might help. All it did was give Harry the idea that more pressure was a good idea. Draco's head was being crushed into the V in the corner of the walls, and it sort of hurt. He put his till-then limp arms around Harry's waist and pulled his body closer, at the same time pushing Harry's head back with his face, pressing against Harry's lips with his own, until it became a sort of battle of lips.

Harry lowered his own arms to drape around Draco's neck, and Draco felt something pull not in his stomach, but in a region a bit lower than that. Draco pulled his lips away from Harry's face and opened his eyes, startled to see the surprised green ones staring back at him.

"You have to get ready to get everybody out of the school and into a safe place."

Harry looked confused. "What?"

"Not for a couple weeks or so, maybe more… I'm not sure yet. But you have to make a plan. Tell everyone you can, tell Dumbledore, whatever. Nothing is going to happen until I give my say so, and I will give you advance warning first, and enough time to get everybody out."

"Um," Harry stated, looking absolutely flustered. "Okay. I will. I… thank you. For telling me. Now."

"Yeah. Of course." Draco's arms were still around Harry's waist, and he tightened them. "This is so weird."

"I know," Harry admitted. "Is this okay? We can stop. I just thought-"

"I don't want to stop. Do you?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

Draco smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, determined to make it a bit more enjoyable this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday June 9th, 1997

He waited in the corridor for Harry to get there. For some reason, it just didn't feel right to enter the Room of Requirement without him. He did not have to wait long, since the urgency in his letter had been pretty extreme. Because he was in such good practice (and also a long, silent hallway), he heard Harry coming long before he would have seen him and did not jump when Harry grabbed him, invisible, by the elbow. It had been three months since their last meeting.

As soon as they entered their familiar little room with the door firmly shut behind them, Draco rounded on Harry. "It's time."

Harry's eyes widened. "Time to get everybody out?"

"Yes. Did you talk to Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded. "All teachers, Prefects, and the Head Boy and Girl are in on it, too. The fireplaces in each common room are one spell away from being Floo-accessible, at least on this end."

"Good plan. That's great. And after you go, I'll-"

"After I go? What do you mean, aren't you coming?"

Draco frowned. "I can't exactly do that, Harry!"

"What do you mean? You've done your job for them, haven't you?"

"Part of it, yes," Draco sighed, "but as long as this war's on, don't you see that it will never be over for me?"

"Can't you talk to your parents? Dumbledore would help them, too, Draco!"

Draco almost laughed. "My father would never stoop so low. He's come pretty far, and I'm pretty sure if given the choice to do it all over again, he would get the fuck out, but now? His whole life's caught up in it. I doubt he'd know who he was without it. He's a prideful man, Harry. I think in the years you've known him that much should be clear."

"Draco…" Harry started, looking lost. "I don't want to go without you. What will they think when they see we've all gone, huh? What if they blame you?"

"I'm a pretty good actor, Harry. I've got it all worked out. If it makes you feel any better, I'm actually going to be blaming it on you." Draco winked at him, and Harry scowled.

"This is bullshit!" he yelled. He turned around and Draco feared for a moment that he might be about to punch the wall, but instead he hit it hard with the flats of both hands, and then rested his forehead against it, breathing heavily.

Draco understood. He really did. He wanted nothing more than the freedom to go with Harry to a safe place where they could be together and where he could help Harry defeat the Dark Lord. For the first time, Draco felt envious of the fact that Harry had no family to worry about. He would never tell Harry either of those things, however. The first would give him false hope, and the second would just be tactless and cruel.

He was well aware that this could be his very last meeting with Harry. Wars tended to have high death tolls, and Draco wasn't going to rule anything out. But time, for the moment and seemingly the first time all year, was in Draco's hands, and he intended to use it wisely.

Draco came up behind Harry tentatively, reaching out to place one hand on Harry's lower back. When Harry did not respond, Draco slowly reached around to wrap his arms around Harry's middle. He felt Harry shiver, and Draco sighed, holding on a little tighter and reveling in the feel of Harry against him. It was the first time in his life he had ever held a person like this.

"Harry," Draco whispered against his neck, "I'm going to be okay. I promise."

Harry sniffed loudly, and Draco felt his heart break a little. Without letting go he shifted around Harry until he had snuck by one of his arms, and then he was face-to-face with Harry against the awkward tilt of his hunched form. It would have helped if Harry wasn't staring down at his shoes like an immovable brick.

"Look at me, will you?" Draco demanded, using both hands to try to lift up Harry's face. It was wet. "Harry…"

"Fuck this," Harry began, voice heavy. He finally looked up on his own, and Draco felt himself crumble at the emotions laid bare across his face. "I can't stand this…"

Draco put his arms around Harry's waist again tightly and buried his face in Harry's neck, afraid he was going to break, too. He didn't even trust himself to speak. Finally, Harry moved, wrapping his arms around Draco in one smooth motion. Being surrounded by him felt like heaven, like the sun had come out behind the foggy clouds that had been his mind for the past several months. The reasons why he shouldn't just go with Harry were becoming foggier by the second.

"We've got to stand it," Draco said, placing a brief kiss on Harry's neck.

Harry shivered again. "I feel like… like we'll see each other again."

"How?" Draco desperately hoped he had developed some type of assured fortune-telling device that had told him so and that it was never, ever wrong.

"I've never gotten the chance to say goodbye to anybody before losing them before," Harry whispered.

Draco pulled away, placing his hands on either side of Harry's face. "In that case… goodbye, Harry…" He leaned closer and kissed him, unafraid - the way he had been imagining in his mind for months. Deeply, but without brute force, each of their heads tilting naturally in opposite directions and the wall behind them a helpful steadying ground. Almost immediately Draco felt himself pressed against it. His head hit the wall, but for some reason this time he couldn't have imagined finding the experience unsatisfactory in the least.

His mind reeled from sensory overload, and he still really had no idea what he was doing. But it seemed he had found the instincts that had the ability to take over. He found his hands wandering down Harry's back and, pulling him closer, found his mouth opening against Harry's. He shuddered at the knowledge that his tongue was in Harry's mouth.

That was when they heard the noises coming from outside the door. The sounds of many pairs of shoes hitting stone and loud, raucous voices. Draco felt his heart fall into the pit of his stomach as they pulled away from one another.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, staring at Draco as if it were only natural that Draco should. All the color had fled from Harry's face and he was digging inside his robes for his wand.

Draco swallowed, trying to think. He didn't understand. Unless bunches of students had all been told about the barely-spoken-of Room of Requirement and were now all running back and forth outside of it trying to get a piece of it, Draco could only imagine it would be one other thing. One thing that should not have been possible because he had not sent word to his father yet.

"I don't know," Draco said, terrified, but he did know. He had heard the voices through the door, and it had been mens' voices, not students' voices. The low caliber resonated back and forth against the walls in their small room and rang in his ears. He felt wetness fill his eyes. "If it's them, we've got to get out there and warn people… We've got to go, now!"

Both of them ran to the door, huddling against it and listening until the sound of footfalls had disappeared.

"I thought you said nothing would happen until you told them!" Harry yelled, wrapping his cloak around himself and disappearing immediately. "I thought you said there would be time!"

"My father must have had control from the other side, or… or must have been able to tell somehow! Merlin, fucking hell, this wasn't supposed to happen, Harry!"

There was no reply. The door to the room clicked open.

"WAIT! Please!" Draco sobbed, digging inside of his robes for the only thing he had that might help in some way, the only thing he could think of to give. He found the Hand of Glory and the subsequent candle that would give it power and held it out. "Take this!"

"Why should I take anything from you?" Harry demanded harshly.

"If you put the candle inside it, everybody else in your vicinity will be in total darkness, you'll be the only one who can see… Harry, please…" Draco cried, reaching out to the area where he thought Harry might be. Harry grabbed it from him roughly, and Draco fell back against the wall.

Draco heard him running quickly down the corridor, towards the center of the castle where Draco was sure mayhem was already starting to occur. He could hear screaming, feel the familiar vibrations of dark magic.

He slid down to the stone floor in the half-open doorway, banging his head back hard against the wall. The subsequent pain did nothing to stop the fact that he had fucked up in a major way, had probably cost many people their lives, and had lost any and all chance at happiness.

Maybe it had never been his to claim in the first place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Wednesday July 31st, 1997

The owl came in the middle of the night on Harry's eighteenth birthday. Draco had been in bed, not sleeping, but not quite awake, when he heard the light rhythmic tapping against the glass. He bolted straight out of bed and over to the window and practically ripped the letter from the poor owl's leg. It hooted at him before flying off again, not offering Draco the opportunity to send back a reply.

In Pevensey, there's a small inn on Montag Way just off of Eastbourne Road. Meet me there Saturday at noon.

H.

Draco committed the information to memory before erasing it from the page, but he couldn't bring himself to destroy the parchment itself. He didn't know why, as it was nothing special - in fact, it rather looked as if Harry had plucked it out of a garbage bin - but it was from Harry. Just that knowledge alone was enough to rid him of his regularly scheduled nightmares.

When he woke the next morning and saw the parchment sticking out from beneath his pillow, he was filled with a sense of dread. Wherever Harry was, whatever he was doing, he was doing it in secrecy and keeping an unimaginably low profile. And if he hated Draco or he didn't, at least Draco knew now that he was alive and safe somewhere.

Draco's immediate reaction was that he should not go and risk disturbing the safe balance that Harry had created for himself. It was the reason they hadn't spoken more than a handful of times throughout the school year, and it was probably the reason the two of them had made it this far.

The one thing Draco had to admit was that they had only asked the other to meet up before under dire circumstances and normally for a very distinct and unavoidable reason. The fact that they had parted on bad terms a month and a half ago convinced Draco that this was not just an underlying desire of Harry's to make up - that would not be an important enough reason all on its own in Harry's mind. Even if Harry had no intentions whatsoever of forgiving him, the reason he wanted to meet up was probably a very good one. In that case, it might be wise for Draco to go to him.

And Draco wanted to go to him terribly. He had spent the whole summer living in fear inside of his own home, spending most of his time in the potions laboratory. Apparently, immortality wasn't exactly pain-free. Most nights, the Dark Lord requested a pain-relieving potion, and then there were the countless other Dark potions he had had to learn how to brew. He didn't want to know what they were being used for, or who they were being used on, and each time he read over the directions for a new potion, he tried to think of a way to change it somehow, to make the effects less horrible. Then he would realize how obvious it would be that he had done it, and each time, he knew that he would not be able to risk his punishment being taken out on his mother or father.

Muggles and blood-traitors were tortured and killed at most Death Eater meetings. The first few times, Draco had been unimaginably grateful for the mask that hid his face, but after a while he learned how to appear numb to all observing eyes and save his reactions for evening times, when there was no one in his room to see him fall apart. Sometimes they were people he knew: teachers, former classmates. Selfishly, he was glad for the mask then, too. He didn't want to look them in the eye and have them realize that even though he knew them, talked with them, and been a part of their lives in some way, he was not able to save them. Not going to save them.

He wanted out. More often than not, he wished he had accepted Harry's offer of protection and help, and that he had just talked seriously to his parents about it and begged them if necessary, used the Imperius Curse as the very last resort. He thought about it every day but had been convinced that Harry meant to stay out of his life for the rest of the foreseeable future. Draco wouldn't have blamed him, and it was surely what Draco had expected. Even if Draco and his family did decide to get themselves out, they had nowhere to go without Harry's promise.

But Harry had gotten in contact with him. On his birthday, no less. He couldn't let himself think about what that might mean.

At the same time, the thing that scared Draco the most was that Harry might want to meet him strictly for business. Though it made the most sense, Draco didn't want to imagine it. And if Harry didn't want to talk about what had happened, Draco would try his hardest to make him see; he would apologize, beg and plead on his knees if he had to. Harry had been the only thing that made his life bearable before, and now there was nothing.

Harry was hope.

But if he was going to go at all, he needed permission to leave the house first.

Aunt Bellatrix answered the door to his father's study when Draco knocked on Friday evening.

"Draco! Here to talk to Daddy?" She opened the door further to pull him into the room, hugging him tightly and ruffling his hair. Draco pulled away, resisting the urge to vomit. She reeked of something foul Draco didn't want to name, and he was pretty sure that the dirt under her fingernails was actually blood.

"Hello, son," Lucius looked up from behind his desk, looking disheveled. There were three open books before him, and he seemed to be taking notes. No doubt something the Dark Lord had asked of him. The only thing the Malfoys seemed to be good for anymore was busy work, which Draco frankly didn't mind. "Is everything all right?"

Lucius was looking at him, but at the same time, seemed to be looking right through him, as if he couldn't stand to see him. Though Draco knew well that it wasn't safe to discuss anything inside these walls, he would have given anything to know what his father was really thinking. There was a softness to his spoken word now that Draco knew had not been there since he was very young, and he didn't walk with the same tall dignity as before. He almost manically studied and read through piles of tomes each week, and Draco wasn't sure if he was simply afraid, or if he had gone mad.

"Yes, everything's fine." He took a seat in one of the chairs across from his father's desk, and Bellatrix perched on the edge of the other.

"Why aren't you down in the lab, boy?" She turned to him, tapping his knee with her wand.

Draco crossed his legs. "I've finished for the day."

"How wonderful! Oh, I know the Dark Lord will forgive you yet. I tell him every day what a great job you're both doing." Lucius and Draco shared a quick look. "And besides, he knows how much I love you both. So when you aren't dead, you can thank me!" she cackled, grinning horribly from ear to ear.

Lucius sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. "Draco. Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Draco shifted. "I'm almost out of Aconite and Hellebore, and I'll need them before next week. Do you think it would be all right if I went to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

"Knockturn?" Lucius raised an eyebrow. Draco shrugged.

Bellatrix jumped up excitedly to place a hand on Draco's shoulder. "The Dark Lord won't be back until Sunday night, and he's left me in charge. Of course you can go. What a good little boy you are to ask!" she smiled, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thanks." Draco stood, wanting nothing more than to get out. He couldn't stand being in his aunt's presence more than was strictly necessary.

"Wear a cloak with a hood when you go," Lucius said without looking at him.

Bellatrix nodded, eyes wide. "Oh, yes. The Mudbloods would see your hair, boy, and it would be a fatal crime to expose yourself like that."

"All right. I will."

Just before he reached the door, he heard his father speak again. "Take the Hand of Glory, too."

He nodded once before leaving, not trusting himself to turn around and keep his face expressionless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday August 3rd, 1997

As it turned out, the New Sussex Inn wasn't entirely unlike the Leaky Cauldron. The pub downstairs was smaller and seedier, and there were far less people crowded inside; Harry had done a good job of finding an obscure place to meet. The town was small and everybody seemed to be wearing Muggle clothing, but inside the pub itself there were quite a few people wearing robes. Draco felt less out of place sitting down at the bar than he did walking through the streets of Pevensey. The afternoon sun shone had down on him like a spotlight, and he had pulled his hood around him more carefully to hide his hair.

He was half an hour early, and so he did not really expect to find Harry there yet. He ordered himself a pint and shrunk the bag of potions ingredients he had gone to Diagon Alley that morning to purchase so that it would fit easily inside the pocket of his robes.

The barstool he had chosen had the best view of the room. It was nearest the wooden stairwell that Draco assumed would lead to private rooms, had a view of the rest of the bar, and faced the door. Nobody could enter without his knowledge, and there he waited, just watching, heart pounding a staccato rhythm in his chest. Several men and women came and left, but none that he recognized. Harry hadn't told him what to expect, and so Draco had no idea if Harry would be under his cloak or under a Glamor Charm or what. The knowledge that he could be any of the people who had walked in or even a gust of unseen wind unsettled him greatly.

At ten to noon, a couple of men walked in. One was tall and balding, and the other had dirty blond hair and a pinched-looking nose. Both of them took cautious steps forward, speaking to one another in hushed tones. The tall one looked around, and eventually his nondescript, beady eyes met Draco's.

Draco stared at the men, his hand hovering over his wand. He was so sure Harry would have been alone, and so his immediate conclusion was that this couldn't possibly be Harry. It seemed far more probable that he had been followed, or that someone in the town had recognized him and notified the local gang of Death Eaters.

The tall one elbowed his partner and whispered something in his ear, and then the dirty blond turned his head to scan the bar. When their eyes met, Draco stopped breathing.

Glamor it was, then. The dirty blond made his way through the crowd, his familiar green gaze never leaving Draco's face. When he reached the stairwell, he motioned toward it with a nod of his head, and Draco immediately stood. He dropped several coins onto the counter top and followed Harry up the creaky, wooden steps. Before the bar was out of view below him, he watched the tall man Harry had come with take the seat Draco had just vacated.

There were crude, grimy windows cut alongside the staircase on the right side that let dull sunlight shine through every few steps. It seemed like the longest, dustiest staircase Draco had ever climbed, and by the time he had reached the top, he was out of breath and shaking. It was very dark in the small hallway they had entered, but stripes of light shone through the cracks at the bottom of four doors. Harry turned toward the second door on the right, and opened it with a key. He swung the door open with a loud creak and motioned Draco inside.

Draco could feel protective wards encompassing him as he stepped into the room, and he sighed at the feeling of Harry's magical signature surging through him. Apparently, he had been approved, because the gentle circulation of magic inside him dissipated, and he was standing just inside a room that reminded him strangely of Hagrid's Hut. There were hardwood floors and wood-paneled walls, a tall dresser in the corner, and a large bed with a blue and white quilt.

He heard the door shut quietly, and he turned. Harry was still under the Glamor, but he held his wand up to his face and quietly ended the spell. Draco watched in interest as the pinched nose transformed into Harry's own slender one, and the light hair darkened. The rest of the tiny changes Harry had made to his face rearranged, and in less than three seconds Harry was himself.

Draco didn't think he had ever been happier to see anybody in his life. And as usual around Harry, he found himself rendered speechless and immobile. He could only look at him and understand for the first time a desire to see Harry every day for the rest of his life.

Harry took a few steps toward him. There wasn't very much space to walk inside the room, so this brought Harry close enough that he was able to reach out and pull Draco's hood down. Draco closed his eyes briefly at the contact Harry's hand made against his cheek.

"Hi," Harry said quietly, in a gentle voice that Draco had never heard him use before. He was looking at Draco with wide eyes, and Draco tilted his head in contemplation of him because something was off. Draco studied him for a few more seconds before understanding what it was.

Sticking out of the top pocket of Harry's shirt were his glasses. Draco removed them, and placed them easily on Harry's face. Harry cracked a small smile, adjusting them slightly with one hand.

"Hey," Draco finally replied, sounding breathier than he had intended.

Harry looked at his feet for a moment before seeming to steel himself. "I've had a long time to think about everything, and I want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened. I'm sorry I didn't try to get in touch with you before this but I've kind of had a lot going on…" He laughed shortly, almost bitterly amused at his own sentiment.

Draco stared open-mouthed for a moment before he could respond. "You're not joking?" Harry shook his head slowly, and Draco took a step back. "Out of all the things you could have said to me, 'I'm sorry' was the absolute last thing I would have guessed," Draco admitted, shaking his head. "You're well within your rights to hate me. No matter what you think, my plan still fucked up! And Dumbledore's dead, and it's my fault, Harry…"

"Shut up," Harry said simply in a low voice that was almost a growl - another first, Draco thought - before he closed the gap between them and attacked Draco's mouth with his own.

The kiss was unlike the first experimental ones they had shared, and also unlike the emotion-driven kisses on the day Draco had since termed 'The End of Everything.' This kiss felt like it had been building ever since the moment Harry had run away from him. Though Draco hadn't consciously let himself wish for it or imagine he might have it, this had been all he wanted for a month and a half. The tension they had left in the little room with the biscuits would have continued building inside of Draco until the day it finally broke him. Draco, with his arms full of Harry Potter, was intensely grateful he would never end up knowing what that day felt like.

Another difference between this kiss and all other ones they had shared was that there was a bed in the room instead of two cushy chairs. Draco was acutely aware of this difference as Harry's hands wandered up and down his back, one settling against the back of his neck and the other making its way much lower. Draco shivered, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's waist and kissed him harder, opening his mouth and letting their tongues swirl against one another.

A quiet happiness seeped into him - a feeling so deep he didn't know what to do with it beyond kissing Harry harder, trying to make him understand without words. He felt himself being turned and led backwards, and he smiled against Harry's lips when the back of his knees met the edge of the bed. It didn't take much persuasion from Harry for him to fall backwards, and he pulled Harry down right along with him. Then he was lying there, Harry a pleasant weight on top of him, and the happiness seeped into him more deeply, filling out all the little crevices that made him up.

The first time their erections met through the fabric of their trousers was a complete accident. Harry had been pulling Draco up to rest his head against the pillows, and he had lowered himself back down again at precisely the right angle. Draco let out a quick gasp, and Harry froze, suspended in the air above Draco. After a moment, he moved his hips slightly, experimentally, and both of them groaned into each other's necks.

Draco's hands moved to slide Harry's robes from his shoulders, and Harry sat up, straddling him as he threw his robes to the floor. Draco reached out, feeling his way slowly up Harry's chest before he began unbuttoning Harry's shirt. Harry was smiling down at him, and Draco found himself blushing - though at the same time, he was so hard that it took a lot of concentration not to rip Harry's shirt off him instead.

Harry leaned down to kiss Draco again, cupping Draco's face with his hands and pushing against him with his hips. Draco's pelvis struggled to move against Harry's, but Harry wasn't budging. All he could do was allow himself to be kissed and touched by Harry's skin, so warm beneath his fingertips. The skin along Harry's back was perfectly smooth, and Draco marveled at the feel of Harry's broad shoulders, the muscles moving beneath the skin there.

Harry helped Draco remove his robe, and Harry sat up again, pulling Draco with him. Harry still straddled him, and Draco felt Harry's legs wrap around him, felt him rut once, twice against him, and Draco moaned deep in his throat, resting his forehead against Harry's bare shoulder.

Draco pulled away in order to pull his own shirt over his head, not in any mood to deal with more buttons. Then his hand moved down to rest on Harry's waistline just above his zip, and he looked up into Harry's eyes, asking the silent question. Harry, face flushed, nodded back, and Draco carefully unzipped his trousers. After some awkward maneuvering, both of their trousers were pulled off and then their pants, too, all added to the growing pile on the floor.

They were fully unclothed then, and the wide, curtained window let in a lot of light. Draco felt completely exposed and open, and incredibly nervous. No one, apart from his Mum, had ever seen him vulnerable like this before, and he'd certainly not seen anybody else. They lay on their sides facing one another, and Harry's hand moved easily over Draco's skin, down the length of his arm and the slight curve of his hip. Draco shuddered when Harry's hand drifted lower, ghosting over his erection.

Draco covered Harry's hand with his own, creating a jolt of pleasure that surged through him. Draco let out a quick, disjointed breath and Harry grinned, moving closer to kiss him. Draco felt Harry's cock nudge his hand, and he released himself to take hold of Harry instead.

He didn't have very much time to get acquainted because Harry had started to stroke him. It took him a moment or two, but eventually Draco was able to mimic Harry's rhythm in a way that freed his mind, and he was simply able to feel and do without thinking too much about the mechanics.

Draco groaned with the intensity of this feeling after being deprived for so long, and then made the mistake of looking at Harry's face. His eyes were squeezed shut, head thrown back, mouth open slightly, and the one hand that was not currently pulling Draco off seemed to be trying to claw its way through the pillow behind his head. The sight sent a coil of excitement through Draco's belly, but rather than fade away as he would have expected it to, it strengthened and grew and exploded out of him. Even in a post-orgasmic haze, his pride flagged just a bit at having come so quickly.

Though it lifted again when Harry came about three seconds later.

They lay there breathing heavily and slick with sweat for several minutes until Harry let out what was unmistakably a giggle.

"Thanks," Draco said, trying his hardest to sound appalled.

"I'm not laughing at you!" Harry exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling him closer. "I just imagine it's been quite a while for us both," he said, leaning in to kiss him. "Better luck next time, perhaps."

"And when do you suppose that will be?" Draco asked darkly.

Harry slowly stroked Draco's back. "If you were to come live with me, it might be sooner than you'd expect."

"Are you delusional?" Draco pulled away.

"No, I'm not, actually," Harry began, his voice rising. "No one knows where Ron, Hermione, or I are staying, and if you just came back with me, you could be safe there, too! With me!"

Draco stared at him, willing himself to argue with Harry, but there was hardly anything that even held up in his own mind anymore. "What good would I be? Ron and Hermione know more than I do; they're the ones who've been through this with you time and time again…" Draco cut himself off before the bitterness that was leaking into his voice could manifest itself further.

"Do you not want to go? Is that it?"

"I want to go!" Draco sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. "How could you even say that? Of course I want to go."

"Then come with me," Harry whispered, sitting up and taking Draco's hand in his. "I wish I could tell you to bring your parents, too, but I just don't think… with Dumbledore gone now, I don't think that I could promise -"

"I get it," Draco interrupted, sighing and leaning against Harry. "I think I'd be doing better by them outside of that hell-hole at this point. And I'm absolutely no good to anybody inside of it."

He felt Harry shift, then straighten and turn to look at him. "So, are you saying… what, you're coming?"

With a small smile, Draco nodded.

Harry threw his arms around him, burying his face in Draco's chest. Draco felt himself sinking into the embrace down into the pillows, returning it with all the strength he had. He was terrified, and he hadn't meant to make such an impromptu decision, but as soon as he had done it, he realized how much he had needed to. There was nothing for him at the Manor anymore, and after Dumbledore's death, the Dark Lord had given Draco and his family the amount of attention he might have given to a House Elf. Somehow, both of his tasks had been completed, and Draco knew he would not make it through another round. It was time for him to make a decision for himself for once, and he was more than ready to start doing things that would actually make a difference.

And he would get to do it all at Harry's side. It was so much more than he could have asked for or imagined.

Something still nagged at him, though.

"Harry… Ron and Hermione hate me. That could be an issue," Draco pointed out, tensing a bit.

Harry chuckled against his skin. "Ron is downstairs right now, you know."

"The other guy was Ron?" Draco had forgotten completely about the tall bald guy the moment he had disappeared from view.

Harry nodded. "He was sick of me moping around about you these past few weeks. It was his idea."

Draco scoffed, pulling away. "This was Ron Weasley's idea?"

"He put the idea in my head. I made it happen," Harry said, resting his chin on his hand, grinning. "But I highly doubt he thought this far ahead."

"So he knows about us, then."

"Hermione's had a theory about us since Fourth Year, apparently," Harry said flippantly as Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too."

"Wow. Fourth Year, huh?"

"I think that's about when it started for me, actually." Harry began to draw indistinct patterns on Draco's ribcage, making him shiver. "How about you?"

Draco didn't answer right away. Instead he lay there on his back with one arm around Harry and the other behind his head, trying not to squirm under the weight of the question. Harry's fingers on his skin became still after a few moments, and Draco sighed. "I think on some level, you've always been the most important person in my life."

Harry did not respond, though Draco could feel Harry's heart beating faster under his palm. That was answer enough for Draco.

"When I was really little, I refused to go to sleep until my mother told me a Harry Potter story." Draco blushed, shutting his eyes and grinning in embarrassment when Harry burst out laughing. "Don't make fun. You were the comical bad guy, just so you know."

"I'm not making fun of you, but that's just… completely adorable."

Draco sighed. "I guess now it makes more sense, how flabbergasted I was when we first met."

"Oh, Merlin, you were hilarious. You almost fell off your stool when I told you who I was!"

"I know. I was there." Draco grimaced, running his fingers through Harry's hair and tracing his scar. "We can stop making fun of me any time now."

Harry wrapped his arms tighter around Draco. "You have no idea how glad I am that you'll be with me, Draco."

He raised his eyebrows, even though Harry couldn't see him. "I think I might."

"I love you," Harry said in the same calm, quiet voice he had used when first addressing Draco that day.

Draco felt his throat close up, but he forced himself to continue to breath. Finding Harry's hand, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of Harry's head. "I love you, too," he whispered. "Let's get out of here." Draco stiffened for a moment, and Harry pulled away slightly to look up at him. "Um. Where are we going, exactly?"

Harry laughed, and Draco noticed the wet corners of Harry's eyes before he was being kissed again. It was a little while longer before either of them actually felt like putting their clothes on to go.

Draco was rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs when the cloaked figure grabbed him and spun ever so slightly to the right. Harry had been right behind him.

In a matter of seconds, Draco was outside, across the street from the New Sussex Inn and blinking blindly in the sunlight. Draco gasped for air, as Bellatrix had been practically squeezing his lungs shut as she'd Apparated away with him.

"No," Draco uttered as he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to catch his breath and move out of her grasp.

"Oh, yes," Bellatrix responded huskily in his ear. "The game is over, pumpkin. You did beautifully."

"Let go of me! Fuck you!" With a burst of strength, Draco shoved his aunt away, and she stumbled into the street, laughing.

Draco took his wand from his pocket and turned to face her.

He would have killed her if the sound of the explosion hadn't nearly burst his eardrums. Draco's wand clattered to the ground and he fell to his knees on the pavement, clutching at his ears and screaming.

The New Sussex Inn was an inferno, completely engulfed in flames. Bellatrix grabbed Draco's face with both hands, forcing him to watch the black mountain of smoke rising high into the air.

Harry had been right behind him.

Harry.

Draco ran toward the destroyed Inn, but there were invisible wards surrounding it, creating a very solid forcefield. He ran straight into them, instantly spraining his wrist and bruising his tail bone as he crashed to the ground.

"NO! Let me through! Bella, please!" Draco leaped to his feet and pushed against the shield in desperation, completely oblivious to his own physical pain. He picked up his wand from the ground and hurled curse after curse at the wards, but they would not budge.

They were probably the reason he hadn't been affected by the blast, apart from the sound - he hadn't been more than twenty feet from the door, but he didn't have a scratch on him. Harry must have been just on the other side, frantic because Draco had disappeared, perhaps just pulling the Glamored Ron to his feet when…

"HARRY!" Draco screamed, falling against the invisible wall. It tingled and vibrated slightly where his skin touched it and he crumpled to the ground, still pushing feebly. He face was wet, but he didn't remember starting to cry.

"Poor little boy." Bellatrix knelt down beside him, reaching out.

Draco recoiled. "Don't touch me!" he shrieked. "Don't you come near me!"

Bellatrix stood abruptly, looking over Draco's shoulder. Draco felt his Mark burn.

"You're in the presence of the Dark Lord, boy. Stand up, you stupid blubbering baby!" Bellatrix kicked him hard in the stomach, and Draco grunted, rolling into a fetal position. "You sorry excuse for a Black descendant!" Bellatrix roared.

"Thank you, Bella." The voice trickled into his ears and through his mind like poison, and Draco felt his stomach turn.

"My Lord, what will you do with him?"

"First, I will use him to make a call." A cold, bony hand encircled Draco's sprained wrist and pulled him to his feet, and Draco cried out in pain.

He could barely stand; he fell back against the invisible ward to steady himself as the Dark Lord shoved the sleeve of Draco's robe up and pushed the tip of his wand against the Dark Mark.

All around them on the street, masked figures began to appear. The Dark Lord eventually let go of Draco's battered arm, and it fell uselessly at his side. He slumped to the ground again, both unable and unwilling to remain standing.

"As members of my most trusted inner circle, I thought you should be the first to hear the news," the Dark Lord began. There was absolute silence in the wake of his words, save for the roaring of the flames. "Bellatrix gave me the tip, but young Mr. Malfoy here must take some of the credit. He is a traitor, make no mistake. There, Lucius, do collect yourself! Look into your boy's eyes and tell me that's the face of a boy who wants to live! I will grant the wish of no traitor."

"Oh, please, Lord… won't you tell them?" Draco wasn't looking up but he could see Bellatrix bouncing on her heels as she spoke.

"With utmost pleasure, Bella," the Dark Lord paused magnificently. "Harry Potter is dead."

It could have been three days, or it could have been a month. For all Draco knew, time had stopped.

And it was all his fault.

The death of Harry Potter meant a celebration of epic proportions in Malfoy Manor. Draco stayed in his room throughout, and no one bothered him or forced him to take part in any meetings or rituals, and for that he was glad. His mother came in every once in a while, sometimes to bring him food or water, and sometimes just to sit there with him and let him cry into her lap like a five-year-old waking up from a nightmare. She never asked him to explain, and he was glad because he had no idea what he would have ended up telling her. At one time in his life, he would have been afraid to tell her the truth, but every measure of fear inside of him seemed to have dried up.

On the day his father had forcibly removed him from his bed and shoved him roughly into the shower, he knew that he could no longer get away with lying there and letting the world go by without him. His father told him that the Dark Lord had requested his presence at all meetings from that point on, and so Draco had gone.

The knowledge that things could have been so radically different tore him apart. Not just for himself, but for the entire wizarding world.

Harry had been Draco's hope and the hope of countless others. And after he had gone, the morale on the other side fell drastically. Reports came in daily of new victories for the Dark Lord. More and more important figures fell. The celebration on the day Kingsley Shaklebolt was killed had been almost as grandiose as the celebration for Harry. And the day the Burrow had been destroyed, Draco had been forced to go to the festivity for the sole purpose of identifying the remains of the Weasleys.

It was all his fault. Harry would never have let anything happen to his adopted family.

Draco tried to kill himself after he got back to his room that night.

He didn't get very far before three House Elves had popped into his bathroom, restraining him with surprisingly powerful magic and ripping the knife away from him.

His father had come back to see him, sitting down on the edge of the bed to explain to him that under the Dark Lord's orders, Draco was being strictly monitored. He could cause no harm to himself without the House Elves being alerted to the fact and coming to intervene. Lucius had sounded regretful. He almost sounded as if he wished he could afford Draco the privilege of self-sacrifice. Draco wondered if his father himself was on the same constant watch and wondered exactly when and how this had become his life. A constant hell that he could not escape, no matter what he did. There were no choices left.

After his father left, Draco found himself imagining his life in five years. Ten years. What kind of world would it be? Even if he could escape the Manor and find a safe place, it could only be temporary. Daily, it was becoming clearer and clearer that the Dark Lord would win. Soon there would be no safe places left. No good people.

He had led them straight to Harry. His Harry was dead because he had given him up, and if he'd only stopped to think about it beforehand, to imagine the consequences…

Draco got out of bed, naked as the day he had been born and shivering to the bone, and he began to pace. He made a low, loud guttural sound and pushed everything on top of his desk to the floor in one sudden swipe. Pulling out his leather desk chair he sat down, wrapped his arms around his knees, and wept.

It was a long time before Draco moved, and even longer before he opened his eyes. But when he did, the first thing he saw was the ancient Time-Turner that old Grandfather Abraxas had left him before he died. It had been encased in glass, which was now currently in shards upon the floor. The Time-Turner itself was lying there, rusty and dented and filling Draco with the first seeds of hope since he had last seen Harry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday July 31st, 1998

The timing had to be absolutely perfect, because part of him selfishly needed to see Harry again.

Even if the Harry he saw was only eleven years old.

Draco's mother had been delighted when Draco announced at breakfast that he wanted to visit Diagon Alley. The Dark Lord had moved on from Malfoy Manor when he began to find himself accepted in everyday society, so he had no say in it. Lucius had scoffed at the date, but hadn't particularly cared one way or the other, as long as Narcissa accompanied him. Ever since the 'incident,' which was what his parents called his suicide attempt, Draco hadn't been allowed out of the house on his own. The House Elves couldn't track him outside the Manor, couldn't keep him under watchful eye, or what felt to Draco like ball and chain. He hadn't shown interest in leaving the house in almost a year, so his mother had jumped at the chance to take him out.

He hadn't expected to find Diagon Alley so drastically changed, though he supposed he should have. Most of the familiar shops were boarded up or in the process of closing, and there was a distinct level of fear in each flashing set of eyes Draco passed on the street. There was a collective sadness, as if thoughts of Harry and all that his loss had entailed were ringing through the air unbidden, unspoken, but on everybody's mind on this day.

The Leaky Cauldron was still open, which Draco noted with an internal sigh of relief. He had planned on having lunch there with his mother, and if they had been forced to relocate, the entire day might have taken a very pointless turn.

They sat down together in a booth. Draco poured over the menu as if he actually planned to consume food later.

"Fresh air certainly seems to agree with you, Draco," Narcissa commented. "You seem so happy today."

Draco managed a small smile for his mother, and she returned it, taking his hand across the table. "Things will get better before long."

"I hope so," Narcissa said, looking as if she disagreed but didn't have the heart to tell him so. She stared at him quizzically for a moment before the waiter appeared to take their order.

After the order had been placed, Draco squeezed his mother's hand once and let go, taking a deep breath. "I think I'll just go to the loo. Do you mind?"

Narcissa looked like she had half a mind to accompany him into the stall, but Draco eyed her skeptically. "Oh, all right. Be quick!"

"I will be," Draco lied, scooting out of the booth and trying to smile for her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, and thank her for sticking by him through the worst of it all, but either declaration would have made his mother suspicious. When he stood, he settled for leaning over to kiss her soundly on the cheek. She smiled without looking up, fiddling inside her purse for something, and Draco walked away from the table before he let his face twist against the onslaught of emotion.

Once he was inside the small lavatory, he locked the door and splashed some cold water on his face before taking Harry's folded Invisibility Cloak out from inside of his robes.

It had been quite a shock to find the cloak caught up in the sleeves of his own robes after he had returned home the hellish day Harry had died. Draco imagined it had fallen out of Harry's robes when he'd thrown them to the floor, and then caught on the bag of potions ingredients Draco had had inside of his own robes. Upset, Draco had buried the cloak at the bottom of a drawer. This was the first time he had removed it since.

He unfolded the cloth, running his hands reverently across the smooth, silken surface. With a sick jolt, he recognized Harry's scent caught in the cloak's folds, and he buried his face in it for a long while before straightening and wrapping the cloak around himself. He had been under it with Harry several times over the years, but never alone.

Before exiting the pub, Draco looked one more time at his mother. She was glancing at herself in her hand mirror and didn't appear concerned over his absence just yet, but very soon she would be. Draco was glad he wouldn't have to witness it.

"Goodbye, Mum," he whispered, consoled by the knowledge that this moment would soon be drastically changed.

He followed several older witches exiting through the back and slipped hurriedly past them once the bricks had rearranged themselves. He walked past the Apothecary, the closed-down Quality Quidditch Supplies shop, and Flourish and Blott's with a FOR SALE sign in the window before he stopped to stand in front of Madam Malkin's robe shop. He stared, taking in the old boards haphazardly covering the windows. The place looked like it had been condemned for years already, though it had probably only been closed for a matter of months.

But it hardly mattered. Draco stepped into a small alleyway to the side of the building, and took Abraxas Malfoy's Time-Turner out of his pocket.

He had spent weeks in the Manor's library, scouring for the instructions needed to change the settings on the Time-Turner so that one turn would equal a whole year instead of just an hour. He was sure he had set it correctly; after his year spent tinkering with the cabinet, he had rather a knack for understanding the inner-workings of magical objects.

Draco didn't bother taking a last look around at the world, because he knew he was about to enter one far more beautiful and thriving. One worth being a part of, worth living in.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the hourglass six times.

Even before making the final turn, night and day had begun to spin around him so quickly that the sky was a blur. People weren't people but beams of colored light racing past him like horizontal lightning. Terrified, Draco fell back against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself. In less than a minute, seven years had reversed in front of his eyes, and he was suddenly blinded by the sunlight of the same day, six years past.

Draco noticed a wetness dripping alongside his jaw. He touched his cheek, and when he looked down at his fingers he was horrified see blood. Feeling faint, he wiped the trickles of blood emanating from his ears with the inner sleeves of his robe, and leaned against the side of the building again to catch his breath and take it all in.

This wasn't a world about to be taken over by the Dark Lord, that was for sure. This world was bursting with life and hope; the people passing by radiated a kind of easy, calm happiness that was almost infectious, because Draco soon found himself smiling in their wake.

Above all, Harry was alive somewhere in this world.

There was one thing he had to take care of before he had to be back at the robe shop, and he had forty-five minutes to spare. Thankfully, Gringotts was only two buildings away from Madam Malkin's.

Draco looked around to be sure nobody would notice him appearing out of nowhere, but there wasn't anyone in his immediate vicinity. With a flourish, he removed the Invisibility Cloak and folded it carefully, placing it back inside his robe. Before entering the main street, he pulled his hood up, wincing at the memories the action sparked of the last time he had disguised himself this way.

He felt like a trespasser, worried that every person who looked at him would become instantly aware of the fact that he did not belong. But nobody stopped him, and he saw no one he recognized in the short walk to the bank.

After waiting for several minutes in line, a goblin just finishing up with another customer waved him forward. Draco approached the desk.

"Can I help you?" the goblin asked. Draco glanced at his name-tag.

"Gornuk, I really hope so." Draco reached into his pocket and removed a sealed envelope with his own name written across the back, as well as a small bag filled with Galleons. He pushed both across the counter. "I need to ensure that this letter will be delivered to Draco Malfoy on the twenty-third of June, 1996."

Gornuk lifted the bag and placed it on a scale, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Of course." He glanced at Draco. "Is simple owl post acceptable to you?"

"That's fine," Draco nodded. "Do you need anything else?"

"Just a written statement of your formal intentions." Gornuk eagerly handed him a slip of parchment and a quill.

After he watched the goblin place his envelope in a special, time-sealed safe, Draco returned to the little alleyway next to the robe shop. There was nothing in the alley but a couple of bins, so Draco knew he was relatively out of the way. He donned Harry's cloak again and stood by to wait.

He watched many of his former classmates walk by with their parents. An unimaginably young Pansy Parkinson appeared at one point, licking an ice cream cone from Florean's and walking with her mother and father, seemingly without a care in the world. Draco had to actually stand back when the Weasley clan stormed past, yelling and laughing and alive. In the world he had just left, there weren't any Weasleys left.

He started counting after a while. How many people were alive in this world that Draco knew to be dead?

He made it to seventeen before it dawned on him: there was a good chance his plan would save many of the people who would never have died had Harry been around. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he began to laugh at the notion that he might very well be saving the world, though he had only intended to save Harry. He was glad no one could hear him for how maniacal he sounded.

Then Draco saw his mother, and his heart stopped. He abruptly stopped laughing.

He didn't see himself at first for all her youth and beauty, but eventually he noticed himself, walking next to but slightly behind his mother as they headed toward the robe shop.

"I would really have liked to stop at the Quidditch shop," the younger version of himself spoke, crossing his arms. Draco's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he listened to himself whine in such a squeaky, petulant little voice.

"Draco," his mother huffed. "You have an appointment with Madam Malkin in less than ten minutes! You are to stay here and be fitted for your school robes, do you understand me?"

"Fine!" Draco heard himself exclaim, glaring up at Narcissa defiantly. He remembered the look of barely contained fury on his mother's face well.

"Your father will be by to fetch you after he's done in Flourish and Blott's. You'll be lucky if he doesn't decide to send you to bed without supper," Narcissa warned.

"I won't be hungry, anyway," Little Draco declared, examining his nails, and Draco had to fight to contain his laughter beneath the cloak.

Narcissa gave him a very stern look before she turned to go, and then Little Draco was alone.

All at once, Draco remembered what he had done before going into the Madam Malkin's like he was supposed to. Like clockwork, Draco watched himself stare into the crowd until he was sure his mother had no intentions of turning back, and then he watched himself turn away from the robe shop and head back down the street toward Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Draco watched himself for a moment, amused at his own audacity, before remembering he had a task.

Quickly, Draco removed the cloak again and shoved it into his robe. He made sure his hood was up and stepped out of the alley and into the walkway, just as Little Draco had been about to pass the corner of the building.

Little Draco looked up curiously, tilting his head. "Excuse me, but you're in my way."

Draco held back a smile. "You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" Little Draco's eyes widened at the recognition, used to being addressed as just Lucius Malfoy's son. Draco knew exactly what he would have eaten up at this age. "I've got a younger brother entering Hogwarts with you this year. I'd love for you to meet him - he's waiting for me at Florian Fortescue's. Would you like to join us for an ice cream?"

"Are you going to pay for it?" Little Draco asked automatically, and Draco couldn't help from chuckling out loud.

"Of course. It's my treat."

Little Draco thought about it for about two more seconds before nodding his consent. As they crossed the street together, Draco wondered how he could have possibly missed out on the no-talking-to-strangers lecture. He was unsure how he had even made it to the ripe old age of nineteen if he had been going off with the first stranger who offered to buy him an ice cream as a kid, but he had never been gladder to have any character flaw in his life.

Draco sat down in a booth across from Little Draco, knowing that this was it. His only chance. He had less than ten minutes to do this, and the clock was ticking.

"Where's your brother?" Little Draco asked, glancing around. "What's your name, anyway?"

Draco took his wand out and set up a couple of wards around the table. "My name is the same as yours," he admitted.

"Nobody else has my name," Little Draco assured him, growing slightly impatient. "What did you just do? Who are you?"

Pausing for a moment, Draco pulled down his hood, watching his own gray eyes widen in surprise. "I just made sure we won't be interrupted or overheard. And I already told you my name. It's the same as yours."

"Draco Malfoy is your name, too?" Little Draco asked skeptically, but he hadn't taken his eyes off Draco's hair.

"Yes," Draco nodded. "Draco Malfoy is my name, but that's not all."

"What else?" he heard himself ask in a mystified whisper, and Draco knew that Little Draco was finally cottoning on.

"I'm from your future, Draco. I'm you from the future."

All thoughts of ice cream seemingly forgotten, Little Draco stared up at himself in complete awe. "You look just like me still," he uttered.

Draco gave his younger self a small smile. "Haven't changed much, no."

"I always hoped this would happen," Little Draco admitted, his excitement growing. "But of course you knew that, didn't you? Is that why you came back?"

"No, it's not." Draco's face fell. "I'm afraid I've got something to tell you that you aren't going to like very much."

And this was the lie that Draco had been deliberating about for months now. This most crucial, defining part of his plan. If he failed now, the world was destined to become the same, horrid place he had just left behind. No, he could not afford to fail. Not for the people walking around Diagon Alley alive, not for Harry, and as he looked down at his mirror image, he knew that he could not afford to fail himself.

"In your future, Draco… you become very good friends with Harry Potter." Draco watched his own eyes light up. "But he is going to betray you." The lie struggled out of his throat, and he hated himself for telling it.

"I'm going to be friends with Harry Potter?" Little Draco asked, grin so wide it was splitting his face in two.

Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight. "I became friends with Harry Potter. But I'm here to tell you -" The words caught in his throat again, but Draco swallowed and sighed, knowing he had to go on. "Harry Potter will kill Mother and Father if you become his friend. He will use you even though you think he's being kind, but it's… it's just a trap."

"I don't believe you!" Little Draco squeaked out, and Draco opened his eyes, surprised to find tears in his mirror's eyes.

"Draco, you have to believe me." He dug around in his pocket until he found the Time-Turner. "I have proof."

"No!" Little Draco yelled, looking like he was getting ready to bolt. Before he could decide to, Draco placed the rusty old hourglass on the table in between them.

"I'm sure you recognize this. This is how I got here, and I've come to warn you… to save Mother and Father's life."

Little Draco stared at the Time-Turner for several long moments - the same Time-Turner that had been sitting on his desk in the same place for most of his life. If Little Draco had been harboring any disbelief at all still about Draco's story, it was gone now. There were tell-tale scratches on the Time-Turner's surface that Draco had long since memorized.

"I won't let him kill Mother and Father," Little Draco sniffed.

Draco's heart sank, even though this was exactly what he had been hoping for. "You're going to meet Harry Potter in the robe shop today."

Little Draco's eyes widened. "What should I do?"

Rubbing his eyes, Draco sighed. "It would be best if you were mean to him. Show off or something. Anything to make him not like you."

Draco knew that he had just destroyed so many of his childhood dreams in one fell swoop. His younger self looked devastated and scared. "You've got to go; there isn't much time."

Little Draco nodded, standing up and looking back once more, full of determination. "Don't worry. I'll make him hate me."

"Good," Draco nodded, feeling his eyes grow wet and watching himself run out the doors of the ice cream parlor.

A few moments later, Draco had the Invisibility Cloak wrapped around himself again, and he was crossing the street to wait once more at the mouth of the alley next to the robe shop. He knew that his younger self was already inside and right on time. He had talked to Little Draco for about as long as it would have taken him to look around in the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop.

All that was left was for Harry to arrive.

Of course, he didn't see Harry at first. All he saw was Hagrid some several blocks away but getting closer with each passing second.

The moment he came into view, Draco's heart plummeted into his stomach.

There he was, smaller and skinnier and in absolute awe of everything around him, just as Draco remembered. There was Harry before he knew anything, before he was bound by the prophecy that would take over his life, and before he had Draco around to drag him down and destroy him. It would not happen, not this time.

Draco smiled at the child who had once grown up to be the best friend he had ever had, and the man he loved. He watched him conversing with Hagrid for a moment, and watched Hagrid eventually turn to leave.

Harry walked into the shop, and Draco rounded the edge of the building quickly, entering in his wake.

The scene was arranged perfectly, down to the lighting the afternoon sun provided. Madam Malkin disappeared quickly and then it was just the two of them. Oh, he remembered this…

He tiptoed past Harry, making his way over to corner nearest to where the two boys stood together on their footstools.

"Hello," he heard himself say carefully. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," Harry responded. Merlin, he'd been small.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

Draco had to applaud himself for his acting abilities. He hadn't even been aware that he'd had any at that age. He'd had no reason to need the skills, not until he had gone and given himself a very good one.

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." Harry was looking at his younger self and frowning, and at that exact moment Draco felt a very strange sensation. It reminded him of being tipsy, only the feeling was more concentrated, barring down on specific points inside his head.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm."

The feeling intensified, and all of a sudden, he could no longer stand. As he slid down the wall, falling into the corner (he would not let himself think about other corners), he thought he understood what was happening to him.

He had set the idea inside his younger self's mind, but only now was the plan coming together. The ball was rolling, and as the past began to change, the future he knew was changing, too. He was disappearing.

He had heard faint mentions of Hagrid's name but had missed most of the conversation. He hadn't the strength left to concentrate on the words, so he let them drift in and out of his mind and just watched the two boys as they stood on their footstools.

~*~*~

"I think he's brilliant."

~*~*~

"That's him, that's him! Father, look!" Draco ran ahead, leaving Lucius behind to manage the cart. Harry was standing, almost hiding, beside platform 8 with his own cart and trunk.

Draco could not believe his luck. He'd hardly been able to wrap his mind around the fact that the strange boy from the robe shop was the real Harry Potter. He had spent pretty much his entire childhood playing some rendition of 'Harry Potter and The Dark Lord' with his friends, and although he knew the story to be more fact than fiction, he never in his wildest dreams would have imagined meeting him. Going to school with him. Being his friend.

He was giddy with excitement as he strode up to him. "Hey!"

Harry turned to him, eyes widening in recognition, and he smiled. "Draco! I'm really glad to see you, actually. How do we get in?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, wondering how Harry could possibly not know. He had been looking forward to crossing the barrier at a run since he had been old enough to walk. "You just run at it! See that tall kid about to go? Just watch him."

~*~*~

"Do you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

~*~*~

As he exited the Great Hall and began to walk up the main staircase toward his first class of the day – for which he would be half an hour early – he thought he might possibly have escaped confrontation for the time being. If he were being honest with himself, he would have been content to never speak to Harry Bloody Potter again for as long as he lived.

He didn't need friend a friend like that, who would go and ignore him for an entire summer in order to pull stupid stunts with Weasleys. He didn't.

"Draco, wait!"

Harry's voice.

Draco froze, his feet on separate marble steps and his fingers gripping the hand rail tightly. He hadn't turned around to look, but he could hear someone running, hear the distant din of voices chattering in the hall until the door slowly fell shut on itself half a floor below, and then it was silent and all he could hear was the clop of feet on marble stairs, and heavy breathing behind him.

"Malfoy, you're being an idiot."

Decidedly not Harry's voice.

Draco turned, nearly giving himself whiplash in order to glare at the unexpected redhead. Harry was there too, standing just in front of Ron Weasley on the stairs.

"I'm being an idiot, am I? And what was that stunt you pulled last night, exactly? An act of true bravery and heroism?" Draco scoffed.

"Draco, you don't understand- "

"And you wouldn't even if you tried, Malfoy- "

"Ron, please!" Harry turned angrily to his roommate, affectively silencing him.

"I know what it must look like, but I promise none of it was on purpose." Harry winced, taking one tentative step up closer to Draco. "I just recently got to read all of your letters. They were being kept from me. And I wouldn't even be here now if it weren't for- "

"Me, Malfoy!" Ron interrupted, shoving Harry aside slightly. "Me and my brothers rescued him from those horrible people! They were keeping him hostage in his room, with bars on his windows!"

Draco ignored Ron, instead turning to Harry who was staring incredulously at the redhead. "Harry, is that true?"

Harry's eyes jolted to Draco's, then down to stare at his feet in the next instant. "Yes, it's true."

"Merlin…" Draco swallowed, tilting his head as something else came to mind. "But why the flying Ford Anglia?"

"Seems more than just my Aunt and Uncle wanted to keep me from coming back to Hogwarts this year." Harry looked up, and the turmoil and confusion in his eyes was enough to convince Draco once and for all. "The barrier closed before me and Ron could get through. At the time, it seemed like the only thing we could do."

Draco looked tentatively from Harry to Ron, realizing he had misjudged things. For whatever reason, his emotions were always quick to decide with Harry. It was hard to be logical when it came to his best friend, and he definitely could not deny that he deeply envied his friendship with Weasley.

"Are you still angry?" Harry asked when Draco hadn't responded.

Draco shook his head. "No. Forget about it. Just please tell me you got to read my last letter?"

Harry's eyes widened as Draco brought to mind the news he had shared. "You bet I did."

"And?" Draco asked smugly.

"And I think we should set up a time to practice, Seeker against Seeker. Can't be anything wrong with practicing together as long as we aren't helping each other, right?"

~*~*~

"They're dead."

~*~*~

"So tell me, what's the rule about counter-clockwise stirs again?" Draco asked, and watched Harry bite his lip in frustration across the table from him. The library was nearly deserted except for a few fifth years studying furiously for their Owls while Draco helped Harry study for his Potions written exam. Draco leaned forward on his elbow and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to come up with an answer.

Harry stared fiercely at the cover of his Potions textbook, as if he were wishing that the ghost of Newt Scamander would rise from the pages and tell him why it mattered which bloody direction he stirred his potion. "It's no use," he sighed, slouching back in his chair. "I'm never going to remember any of this, even if it does start to make sense."

Draco let out an irritated whine, slamming his own book shut and glaring at him. "You're lucky I take pity on you, Harry. I could easily let Snape have you for breakfast, you know." Draco pantomimed a counter-clockwise turn. "You have to make one clock-wise turn for every five counter-clockwise turns. That's it." Draco scratched his head, yawning.

Harry scowled. "But why? It doesn't make any sense. The potion gets mixed no matter which way you stir it." Draco's yawn seemed to get caught in Harry's throat and he yawned, too. "What time is it, anyway? Feels like we've been here for hours."

"I think we have been," Draco remarked, fighting the urge to lay his head down across his crossed arms on the table. "Anyway, you could probably leave now and make it to Gryffindor tower without running into anyone who might give you funny looks, Snake Boy."

Harry scowled, stuffing his notes and various papers into his book, bending a page in the process, and shoving the whole mess into his bag. "It's really not funny."

"On the contrary, I think it's hilarious. You, the heir of Slytherin? Please." He fingered the letter in his pocket from his mother, the one telling him to invite Harry home for the holidays. Why couldn't he just ask? He had been struggling to get the words out all week. The worst thing that could happen was that Harry would say no.

But that did have the potential to be a truly tragic blow to his ego, he knew. If Harry said no, it would be because of his Gryffindor friends, and Draco didn't particularly want to face the fact that there was a good chance Harry would pick Ron Weasley over him.

"You're the only person in this entire castle who doesn't look at me like some kind of freak," Harry remarked, flipping idly through Draco's Potion book.

"It's just because not many people are used to Parselmouths running about, are they? But my great-great grandfather was one."

Harry looked up at him. "Ron's convinced it's you, you know."

"I think Ron accidentally threw up his brain along with all those slugs," Draco stated matter-of-factly.

~*~*~

"Oh, sorry. But they were our kind, weren't they?"

~*~*~

It was bitterly cold outside, but Harry and Draco were huddled together underneath his cloak.

"I'm so happy we did this!" Harry said loudly, causing several of the students walking around Hogsmeade in their vicinity to look over their shoulders in confusion.

"Shh, Harry!" Draco couldn't stop laughing.

"I'm serious. Hermione wouldn't break the rules like this with me unless Hogwarts was burning down, and Ron… well, he might have, but he didn't think of it, did he?" Harry slung an arm around Draco's shoulders.

Draco grinned, not for the first time wishing that Harry had been sorted into Slytherin instead.

~*~*~

"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean."

~*~*~

All four champions were huddled together outside the entrance of the maze, receiving their instructions for the third task. Draco's stomach was bothering him and had been since he had arrived.

The group finally pulled away from one another, Harry standing a little farther away from the rest of them. The twinge in Draco's stomach intensified when Harry turned around and sought his eyes in the crowd.

~*~*~

"I don't really think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways."

~*~*~

"Just say it, Harry. There's no reason to drag it out like this." Draco threw a pebble into the lake. "I can take it."

Nervously, Harry squatted beside him, resting his chin on his knees. "I saw your father in the cemetery, Draco. He's a Death Eater."

There was a long silence. Draco threw another pebble.

"I don't want you going home tomorrow."

"Harry, that's ridiculous. He's my father!"

"Just promise me you'll get out of there if things get bad!" Harry demanded angrily, though when Draco turned to glare at him, the worry in Harry's eyes was evident.

"I will," Draco replied quietly, deflating.

~*~*~

"Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

~*~*~

When Draco walked into the Hog's Head, he was instantly recognizable even with his hood up. The green embroidery on his cloak gave him away.

He took a seat at the very back of the room, trying to ignore the whispers and pointed looks. He wasn't even sure if Harry had noticed him come in.

Draco watched him for awhile. Harry's eyes were clouded and confused, but when they locked onto Draco's they became infused with a quiet hope and determination.

Afterwards, Harry pulled him aside and yelled at him, telling him never to show up to a meeting again unless he was underneath Harry's cloak.

And then Harry hugged him, and Draco melted, holding on for just a little too long.

~*~*~

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Draco,

Happy 17th Birthday. I hope things in your world are settling down, and that you have the opportunity to really enjoy yourself on the occasion.

Anyway, it's me. Draco. I'm sure you've already recognized the handwriting by now, so that should come as no surprise. Want to know the truth? I'm terrified right now, and I'm not sure if this will even work, if you'll ever even read this. I'm writing this letter to you months before I even travel back to speak to you. Though if all goes according to plan, you will read this. And you deserve a truthful explanation from me, and an apology.

You see, I plan to lie to you. I'm going to tell you that I'm saving Mother and Father from Harry, but in truth I am trying to save Harry from ME. It wasn't Harry that used me to get to them; it was Voldemort who used me to get to Harry. And Harry died. He was my best friend, and he died because of me.

The whole world is falling apart now, and I'm sure it's because Harry is gone. This is the only thing I can think of to do. I can only hope that you are living a happy life, or at least a happier life than the one I am living right now. I know that you'll probably live a completely different life because Harry will have no part in it. Harry isn't in it, but he is alive, isn't he?

If the answer to that is yes, then I've succeeded.

You probably hate him still, but if there is any part of you that might not, even the tiniest bit, please embrace it. If the war is over (and ONLY if they war is over), the two of you have the potential to be the very best of friends. I almost don't want to say it, but I have to. You could fall in love with him if you tried, Draco. And you know it, too.

Do what you can for him if the opportunity arises, but do not initiate anything until after the war. If you're reading this, I've been gone for five years now. Please honor my last wish, and the reason I died.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

fin

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Is this the moment
Where I look you in the eye?
Forgive my broken promise
That you'll never see me cry
And everything
It will surely change
Even if I tell you I won't go away today

Will you think that you're all alone
When no one's there to hold your hand?
And all you know seems so far away and
Everything is temporary, rest your head
I'm permanent

I know he's living in hell every single day
And so I ask
"Oh god, is there some way for me to take his place?"
And when they say it's all touch and go
I wish I could make it go away
But still you say

Will you think that you're all alone
When no one's there to hold your hand?
And all you know seems so far away and
Everything is temporary, rest your head
I'm permanent
I'm permanent

Is this the moment
Where I look you in the eye?
Forgive my broken promise
That you'll never see me cry…

~David Cook, Permanent

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and other Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling and her associated businesses. The Harry/Draco World Cup and its participants make no claim upon them.