Disclaimer: Not Mine


Author's Notes: Dunno why I have this section this time, I have nothing to say. lol. Oh, other than asking you all to enjoy the chapter...

jamie

xxxx


Part 2.

Closing his eyes seemed the best defense against the spinning of the room as the time turner did its business of returning him to the same day two years ago.

When he opened them the first thing he saw was that he was seated at the dining table, as he had been, but it was not set for dinner, it was cleared except for the potted Violet in the center of the table, spraying stems of purple flowers in abundance.

Harry remembered that plant; he'd teased Draco about being able to grow any plant in any climate without using magic. Draco had huffed that learning how to feed pants wasn't that much different to learning how to develop potions. It had made Harry wonder why Neville who was so good with plant life, was an utter disaster area around a cauldron. It had finally made its home on the windowsill in the bathroom, Draco claiming that the steam did it good.

A quick look at the clock on the wall told Harry that it was not long after midnight. But was it Valentine's Day or the one after? Frowning, he looked down at the time turner to see that the instructions written on the side had changed.

You have but twenty-four hours, use them wisely. Do not let your past self see you, or there will be dreadful consequences. When you are to return to your own time, twist the time turner three times.

Valentine's Day, then, Harry assumed and thought back to what he'd been doing two years ago at this time. At just after midnight he'd been leading a raid on an illegal brothel being run under the auspices of medical research. When he'd stormed into the first room, he'd found a rotund man between the legs of a tired-looking witch. She groaned, "It's past my knock-off time, come back tomorrow," while the wizard jumped up and gathered his clothes, trying and failing to cover his private parts.

"Yeah, mate, three's a crowd, don't you know?" he'd complained in a shaky, embarrassed voice.

"You aren't going anywhere for the moment," Harry advised and cast body binds on both of them.

Harry sighed as he remembered this; it was hardly worth missing dinner with Draco over. If he remembered correctly, they'd planned an evening of dinner and dancing at Draco's favourite restaurant.

Tonight he would surprise Draco by saying he'd been able to finish work early. All he had to do until then was hang around for the day, out of sight, and then meet Draco for dinner. And make sure Draco was asleep at midnight when he needed to go back.

To hide he'd need the Invisibility Cloak and he'd need to be out of sight when the Harry from this time returned home. The cloak was kept in a box in his side of the wardrobe, so he'd have to go into their bedroom.

The thought of seeing Draco again made his heart beat faster and suddenly it was all he wanted to do.

Turning to walk down the hall to the bedroom, he spied a vase of blood red roses on the sideboard. They looked perfect set against the dark wood of the dresser, he noted. Draco had always had really good taste and, with the help of Kreacher who refused to leave, kept their flat in pristine condition as well as maintaining his job working for the post-war newspaper, The Bugle.

Harry wondered why he didn't remember the roses the last time. For a moment he stood there and wracked his brain, trying to remember if he'd seen them when he'd returned home at 2am, but he couldn't remember. Just as he was about to give up, he heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

It was Draco! In a panic, Harry didn't know what to do. Pretend he'd arrived home? No, then what would he do when the Harry of this time came home? Bloody hell, he needed somewhere to hide.

Or a Disillusionment spell!

Feeling around for his wand, his hand clutched at nothing. His wand, he realised with a slump, was still at home in his time.

With nothing more than a split second to spare, Harry ducked around the corner into the lounge room, hoping that Draco was only after a glass of water.

When his boyfriend entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, Harry's breath caught. Draco was wearing his favourite low-slung silky green pyjama pants that hung so low on his hips, Harry had always joked that he only had to breathe on them and they'd fall down. Watching the way Draco moved, the way the curve of his arse filled out the cloth when he reached into the fridge for the water, made Harry's mouth go dry. Draco looked good enough to eat, but he told himself he must stay away.

Draco poured himself a glass of water and stood leaning against the bench to drink it. He was looking at the roses, Harry noticed. Rather intently. Looking as if he was making a decision. After several sips of water, Draco placed the glass into the sink and turned to look at the roses once more.

"Sorry, secret admirer, whoever you are," he whispered and waved his hand, vanishing the roses.

Harry could only stand there in complete shock as Draco smiled sadly and returned to bed.

Someone was after his Draco?