A/N: Oh my god. You guys! I'm literally sitting her blushing my face off. Thanks for all your story alerts and favorites! That is so amazing. I LOVE you guys. A special thanks to NinjaBearClaw and MirrorFlower and DarkWind for reviewing with such amazing comments and support. I hope you guys like this chapter too…

I spent almost an hour listening to sad songs and typing whatever struck my fancy with my eyes closed, this is it all pieced together, minus the spelling errors and the horrible not-sentences that made no sense unless you were in my head. Example you ask?

saw flames burn out in your eyes

more to it in his eyes something flickered remember harr draco upset why why why go away no don't

Yeah, so that was the weird things that I had about 6 pages of when I was done haha. I hope you enjoy...

Harry was starting to see Malfoy everywhere.

In Diagon Alley, in the Leaky Caldron, Quality Qudditch Supplies, Flourish and Blotts, just about everywhere Harry went there stood Draco Malfoy.

It was really starting to get to him. He wanted to say something to him. Apologize and ask if they can start over as friends, or at least acquaintances, but every time Harry started toward Draco he would disappear into thin air leaving Harry with a sense of abandonment. Harry knew he shouldn't take this so hard, especially with the way their childhood went and how Draco had reacted to him in the shop the other day, but he couldn't seem to stop his chest from constricting every time Draco would shoot him a glare and run the other way.

It was starting to get obsessive. It had been almost two weeks since Malfoy had visited the shop and one since Harry started noticing him everywhere. Harry thought back to sixth year when he was only slightly more obsessed with what the blonde haired boy had been up to. He had almost stalked Malfoy on the Marauder's Map that entire year, he wasn't proud of it and now he was doing it again, would he ever learn his lesson?

The only problem this time was that Harry didn't have a map for Diagon Alley. So every time he was on the street his eyes were pealed for the white-blonde hair distinct to the Malfoy line. Eventually Harry caught up with him just outside of Ollivander's, clearly on his way home, a parcel from Flourish and Blotts tucked under his arm.

"Malfoy! Oi, Malfoy! Wait up!" Malfoy didn't stop; he kept walking, seeming to speed up.

"Draco!" Harry yelled a bit louder.

Malfoy stopped dead in the middle of the street; he turned around slowly, Harry catching up to him. "What do you want Potter? I'm busy."

He didn't look busy; he looked about ready to cry.

"Malfoy... Why do you keep running from me? I've been trying to talk to you for weeks. Honestly, I don't know why you don't go somewhere else to do your shopping. I just wanted to talk."

"I happen to live here Potter. I'm not running from you, I just happen to be a really busy person, now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Draco."

Draco had moved to turn away but turned back around, "Don't call me that Potter."

"Fine, Malfoy, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I want to start over; we were real gits to each other in school. I want to start over and maybe be friends, truce?" Harry stuck his hand out toward Draco.

Draco looked down at it and then up at Harry. He raised his eyebrow, obviously remembering the first real time they had met. Their meeting at Hogwarts. Harry could tell Malfoy was amused at the thought, but there was something horribly sad skillfully tucked back in his eyes. Harry could tell because he had to look at that face in the mirror every day after his fifth year.

Draco sneered and turned away, "No. I don't think so scarhead. In case you've forgotten we hate each other and that's the way it should stay. So I'll be seeing you."

"Really Malfoy? That was really mature. I can't believe you just called me that, are we first years again? You know what, this was a mistake, I should never have thought you might have actually changed into a decent human being. Well I guess you can't help it seeing as it's in your DNA to be a self-obsessed twat, just like your father."

Malfoy visibly stiffened. Harry didn't know why he had brought up Draco's father, he knew it was a sore subject and that Draco didn't really see things the same way the elder Malfoy did, Harry was just so hurt and angry. He wondered if this was how Draco had felt when Harry had turned him down first year.

Draco gave Harry a cold glance, hurt burning in his eyes, "Well at least I've never made anyone die for me Golden Boy!"

Cool fingertips on his skin. Cinnamon breath in his ear, "I love you, you idiot, even if you're everyone's favorite Golden Boy."

HPDM/HPDM/HPDM

Draco regretted it instantly. He knew that Harry didn't remember the long conversations about how Draco felt about his family, especially his father. He knew Harry still thought of him as the obnoxious jerk from school. That didn't mean that it didn't twist the knife a little bit when he heard Harry say those things. Draco saw the pain in Harry's eyes, and he knew that he had crossed the line. Calling him Golden Boy was a bit of a slip up he doubted Harry noticed, until he saw something flicker is Harry's eyes. Just for a moment Draco found himself wishing that Harry had remembered him, he chastised himself, that's not supposed to happen. Then it slipped away, the fire leaving Harry's eyes. Draco got scared, what if Harry remembered? For a moment it was as if Harry was his Harry again, like he knew me, and then it was gone.

"Fine Malfoy, you obviously still hate me. Just forget about it. I'll see you around. Oh, um, Hermione wants you to come by the store. She said it was really important." Harry looked so dejected. Draco's heart broke all over again, but he steeled himself and saved the pain deep down to be resurfaced at a different time.

"Why would Granger want to see me?"

"I don't know. Bye, Malfoy."

Draco watched the lover who would never remember him walk away, and that was probably one of the most horrible moments of his life.

HPDM/HPDM/HPDM

Harry ran quickly down the crowded street as soon as he thought Draco wouldn't be able to hear him. His eyes welling with tears, he apparated to the only place he could be really alone to think, number 12 Grimmauld Place.

He hadn't been there in months, almost forgetting he had it. He went straight to Sirius's old room, the one he had claimed for himself when he had lived here before he bought the flat near Diagon Alley. He tucked himself into the bed, knowing Kreacher would have kept it clean. He burrowed deep into the mattress just wanting to feel close to the only father figure he had known and gotten to remember and spend time with.

He spent that night crying over the people he had lost, all because of him and the war and how he just couldn't save them. All their faces flashed before him, the ones who were like family mixing in with the ones who he barely knew.

Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore .Hedwig. Moody. Scrimgeour. Dobby. Crabbe. Remus. Tonks. Colin. Snape.

The list went on and on and all he could think was that Draco was right. He was a coward who rushed into things. He got people killed, and he blamed himself almost every day.

Harry didn't even think about the whispered words of love, teasing as they were, until the next morning when he went home and found a note in a pair of running shoes he hadn't worn in almost a month. The last time he was about to put them on Hermione had gone into labor and he had dropped the idea of a jog in favor of a race to St. Mungo's. The note made him blush; people didn't leave notes like that in people's shoes. Harry felt like he was missing something, something really important, but when he tried to think about it his head almost exploded and he got a huge headache.

The note slipping from his hand, he staggered to the bathroom, this time seeing actual pictures of the people he had lost staring back at him. He was glad he put those there, so he had to look at them, and be reminded every day what he had caused himself and everyone else to lose. He couldn't think about anything now though as he shuffled through the medicine cabinet for a headache reliever. Finding one, he took it and went back to his room for a lie down. Flopping on the way-to-large bed, he threw his glasses in the direction of the nightstand, falling asleep almost instantly.

Written in distinguished calligraphy on gold trimmed paper, left in the hallway in front of the shoe closet was a dirty message just for Harry…

I'm not wearing an invisibility cloak, but do you think I could still visit your restricted section tonight?

A/N: So things are sorta, kinda, just a bit heating up. Harry is starting to realize something is wrong, but can he get past the effects of trying to remember long enough to actually remember?

Please leave a little something letting me know what you think. I always enjoy reading what others think of my writing. I'm also still in need of a beta reader. That will make the updates slower but I never can seem to catch my mistakes… and it would be nice to have someone to talk to about plot advances. xD

BTW, you should go listen to Unspoken by Hurts. It's so good and sad and beautiful. I listened to it the entire time I wrote this chapter. It's not necessarily an inspiration for the chapter but it was so sad and the tone was perfect for some angst. :)

Review!