Draco received his order shortly after breakfast, the owls delivering the packages directly to his room. Dobby, too, had returned from Hogwarts, his arms burdened with books from the library, more floating behind him. Draco had quickly sorted them by category, ranging from spells to potions to curses to other, more obscure topics.

Severus had agreed to help him sort through the books, particularly those pertaining to potions from back in Merlin's time. Draco laughed; he was sure that Severus was far more intrigued by the idea of potions that existed long before his time than he had let on so far. If there was anything the Potions Master couldn't resist, it was the creation of new potions, and the replication of forgotten ones. No doubt he'd be locked in his personal lab in no time, experimenting on those potions designed to counteract a wide variety of curses and poisons.

Harry had offered to help as well, once he had realized what they were up to, and Draco had agreed readily enough, ignoring the sharp look Severus had given him. If Harry was willing to help, then Draco wasn't about to refuse him. It was a good sign, one that meant that perhaps Harry himself was willing to find a cure now, ready to finally start living his life properly, instead of just waiting for death to claim him. Draco rather suspected that his relationship with Severus had a lot to do with that, but he still liked to think that he had at least contributed in some small way to Harry's growing desire to live, and to take an active role in the direction his life was taking.

Draco had given Harry the books on curses, while he looked up their counters. He figured that Harry knew the most about the spell he had cast on himself, and if he could locate the curse in any of those books, then they'd have made a huge step forward in finding a cure. In the meantime, perhaps he'd stumble across the counter to whatever curse it was that Harry had used on himself.

Both Severus and Draco had asked the raven-haired wizard what he had cast upon himself, but Harry had only told him that he didn't know. He had witnessed the curse while inside Voldemort's head, and had seen its effects firsthand, and had simply duplicated what he had seen. He couldn't even remember if there were actual words that went with it, because he had cast it silently, using only his wand to focus the curse at himself.

Since Severus had opted to read down in the den, Harry and Draco had spread out in Draco's room, lying on their stomachs on Draco's king-size bed and pouring over the books. Some of them were so dry that they nearly sent the boys into a coma. Others were too complicated, written in ancient runes or some other unfamiliar tongue that would require interpretation if the other books yielded nothing. Those were set aside for later perusal.

The dry crackling of parchment and the faint creak of worn leather were the only sounds that filled the room for several long hours. Finally, though, Draco felt the bed shift as Harry stretched, closing the book he had been reading through with a sigh. "I need a break," he groaned dramatically, and Draco grinned; that was the Gryffindor he knew! "Wanna go outside for a while?" Harry asked, glancing sideways at him.

Draco turned his eyes down at the book, debating for a brief moment. He wasn't really getting anywhere, and his eyes were straining, his vision growing blurry the longer he stared at the pages, the words failing to make sense. Perhaps a break would be a good idea, he admitted reluctantly.

"Sure. Sounds good," he agreed, glancing one more at the books before sighing and turning away. He really didn't like taking even a small break from his current lead, because it was the best one he'd had in a while, but even he understood that if he continued to push himself, he might miss something important, the one clue that could give him the solution he needed.

He followed Harry outside into the sunshine, the breeze still gentle and warm. Harry looked out over the yard and noticed the leaf piles. Turning back to Draco, he grinned. "You used magic," he accused teasingly. Draco just shrugged, not bothering to deny it. Tilting his head back, Harry laughed delightedly, and the blond smiled.

Harry turned and made a beeline for the closest pile of leaves, toppling headfirst into them with a small laugh. With a whoosh and crackle, the leaves flew into the air, only to fall back down haphazardly, uncaring of where they landed. Leaning down, Draco gently combed the leaves out of Harry's hair, grinning when the messy nest became even more so, sticking up in every direction.

Draco knew a little about Harry's life with the Dursleys, and had no doubt that Harry had been made to rake up the leaves, but hadn't been allowed to play in them. His stupid cousin, Dudley, however, had probably trampled through them, solely for the spiteful entertainment of having to watch Harry rake them up again and get yelled at by his aunt and uncle.

After the war had ended, the media and the Ministry had both brought forth doubts concerning Harry's mental health. They had wanted him to take several psychiatric tests, which Harry had vehemently refused, hurt and angry. Draco remembered Harry glancing at the headlines in the Daily Prophet only a few times before he gave up altogether, uncaring of what the media had to say, irrespective of the ongoing celebrations following Voldemort's demise.

Still, when Draco's trial had come around, everything had changed. To keep his archrival out of Azkaban, Harry had sought to protect him. Unfortunately, the only feasible way to do that would be to claim guardianship over the Malfoy heir for the next three years, while he was monitored for rehabilitation and reintroduction into normal wizarding society. Since they were the same age, it was mostly just official paperwork, rather than any agreement on Harry's behalf to provide for Draco during the three-year term. As both the Potter and Malfoy heirs had rather significant assets, there was no monetary obligation involved, either.

However, in order for Harry to obtain guardianship over Draco, he had to be declared mentally and emotionally stable. Draco had thought Harry would refuse; after all, he wasn't obligated to help a Malfoy in the slightest. In a move that surprised Draco, and finally made him start to see that giving, open-hearted teenager that others saw in the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry agreed to the psychiatric evaluations, on the single condition that he be allowed to choose the examiners.

The Wizengamot had agreed, confident in their knowledge of the psychiatrists residing in St. Mungo's, as well as those with independent practices. Harry had stunned them when, instead of picking a wizarding examiner, he chose three Muggle psychiatrists instead. It was a clever move, more Slytherin than Gryffindor, and Draco had respected Harry for the maneuvering. The Wizengamot and the Ministry, already on shaky ground for their weak effort in the war, could not be foresworn, and so they had agreed to his terms.

Harry had been declared mentally stable, although he had been diagnosed with depression. Still, that was not enough to keep him from claiming guardianship over Draco. During the brief trial that followed, Harry's past with the Dursley's was brought into the light and intensely scrutinized. Draco had watched Harry fight back against the hurt and anger and betrayal as those secrets he had kept for so long were thrown up for public speculation. More than that, it was obvious that the Wizengamot knew about his life growing up with the Dursleys, which begged the question: why hadn't they done anything about it?

Still, Draco thought, flopping on his back in the leaf pile next to Harry, the other boy had proved resilient and resolute, and had been granted guardianship over Draco Malfoy. It was a better life than Draco had ever imagined. He was of age and could use magic, Harry let him more or less do as he pleased, he lived away from the wizarding world, but could get there easily enough whenever he wanted to.

Nonetheless, he had been helpless to do anything as the depression had overwhelmed Harry, unable to change his behavior quickly enough to gain the other boy's confidence. And when it had finally gotten too bad, when Harry had finally decided to do something about it, Draco had been able to do nothing but call upon his godfather to save his protector.

Harry poked him in the ribs, startling Draco out of his morbid thoughts. Silver eyes glanced up to catch green, and he watched the emotions cross Harry's face as he finally saw what Draco couldn't hide. Confusion, shock, sorrow, and finally, regret. Draco smiled grimly, his heart clenching with the sharp pang of bitterness he couldn't shake. Reaching up, he cupped Harry's cheek in the palm of his hand, and chuckled. "You look wounded," he murmured quietly.

Harry just turned his face and nuzzled against Draco's hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't know," he muttered in reply, his face heating in embarrassment. Draco sighed and sat up, his hand sliding away from Harry so he could run fingers tiredly through blond strands, removing leaves from his hair. He'd need another shower. And it was almost lunch time. Then he'd go back up and do more research. He was so close; he could feel it, urgency humming through his veins and buzzing across his skin.

He stood and turned, his eyes bright with a wicked amusement as he pulled out his wand, flicking it at the leaves scattered around and sending them soaring back into a pile – right on top of the reclining raven-haired boy. Sputtering, Harry waved his arms, flailing, the leaves scattering back over the ground again as he glared up at Draco, the tension broken.

"Your turn," Draco smirked, turning his back on his best friend and walking into the house. "As for me, I'm going to go take a hot shower. Finish playing in the leaves," he offered. A snort sounded behind him, and Draco was pretty sure Harry was probably rolling his eyes at him.

Draco took a quick shower, leaving his laundry in the hamper to be taken care of later, scrubbing the leaves out of his hair, his thoughts far away. Turning off the warm water, Draco stepped out of the shower stall and dried himself off quickly, frowning to himself. Once he was dressed, he stepped quietly out into the hallway, padding down to the kitchen. A light lunch, and then more research, he promised himself.

He heard murmured voices in the kitchen as he approached, and his Slytherin nature kicked in. Slipping silently closer, Draco stopped right outside the room, hidden by the wall that separated the kitchen from the hallway. Harry and Severus were talking seriously, and Draco didn't want to miss it.

"Draco loves me," Harry blurted, and Draco blinked, then sighed. Oh, dear, this wasn't going to go over well. He hadn't meant to let it slip like that, but it had been so good to see Harry laughing again, bright and full of life, the way he was meant to be, the way he was before the war had cost him everything he cherished, taken away everybody who loved him, who had only his best interest at heart.

"I'm well aware of that," Severus murmured. Draco rolled his eyes; could the Potions Master be any more obtuse? He really was an insensitive jerk sometimes, Draco thought darkly. Still, he wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, so he remained where he was, his breathing silent and his body motionless.

"No, no, no!" Harry insisted. "I mean, he loves me. Like the way you do!" The hysteria was slowly creeping in. "And I didn't see it! I didn't know!" Draco blinked; Harry sounded more upset about having not realized Draco's feelings than he did about the fact that Draco loved him in the first place. That was…interesting.

"I know, Harry," Severus soothed. "Draco has loved you for a long time, but you chose me, and he accepted that. Merlin only knows why you chose me, but you did, and Draco respects your choice. As he always has, ever since you defended him in court, challenging the wizarding public in a direct confrontation."

Harry fell silent, and Draco bit his lower lip. He had suspected that Severus was aware of his feelings, but the older man had trusted him to be alone with Harry when he left to do his research. And Harry trusted him to be there for him, to be his best friend, a brother rather than a lover. Draco would never do anything that would compromise his relationship with the other boy. Nor would he ever take any action that would hurt his godfather. They had chosen each other, and as long as he was allowed to remain with them, he would play his part well.

Not well enough, obviously, he thought bitterly, berating himself even as he turned away, heading back up the hallway and upstairs to his room. You let him see, stupid. You should've closed your eyes, or sat up, or something! But no, you just stared at him, wearing your heart on your sleeve so that even blind people could see it!

His hurt and anger was directed inwards as he slipped inside, not wanting to know what else they'd have to say. No doubt Harry was still upset, and Severus would try to comfort him. He'd just stay out of the way, then, and immerse himself in his research. His eyes darted around the stacks of books, looking for a likely prospect. He finally settled for a book bound in deep black leather, gleaming chrome interlaced over its cover, the words so faded as to be illegible.

Flipping the front flap, Draco scanned down the table of contents, but quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to read this book. All of the letters were made of squiggles, blurring and twisting together until they made his eyes spin and his head ache. Whatever language this way, it was completely useless to him. Deciding to set it aside for later, so he could show it to Severus, Draco tossed it onto the bed next to him and pulled out another book, delving into the research. He didn't bother to set the spell that would read the words out to him, needing the distraction of actually concentrating on the words set on the parchment in front of him.

The hours passed, broken only by a brief appearance from Dobby to encourage him to eat some food. Draco didn't know what Severus and Harry were up to, but they were blessedly quiet, so he didn't concern himself overly much. The books that he poured through yielded nothing, though, and in the end, he found himself drawn back to the black leather bound manuscript, opening it and staring intently at the squiggles.

He tried casting the charm that would read the book out loud, but it sputtered out, offering up only a slight hiss before the spell died. Apparently, it wasn't any language that the spell was designed for. Of course, the difficulty in reading it was part of the intrigue, but Draco knew that he was just wasting time that could be better spent reading books he could actually understand.

His eyes drooped slowly over his book, his head dropping onto his crossed arms. Shortly thereafter, he was asleep, breathing softly, the book left open in front of him. Sleeping, he wasn't aware of the two wizards entering the room, one pulling the book gently out from under his head, and the other one maneuvering him under the covers, tucking him in. A glance out the window showed that Draco had been studying for nearly six hours, except for the times when he had nibbled on the food Dobby had brought to him.

"Sev," Harry murmured, staring oddly at the book in his hands. The Potions Master glanced at him and froze, slowly straightening. Harry's eyes were bright in the lamplight, and Severus took a step forward, his arms reaching for Harry before falling uselessly to his sides.

Brilliant emerald eyes turned up to stare at him, shock plainly visible. "This is it. It must be. It's the book Voldemort got the spell from," he murmured. Severus frowned, moving to stand behind Harry, staring down over his shoulder at the confusing squiggles on the page. As he watched, the pages seemed to writhe, the lines blurring and reforming.

Severus breathed out slowly. "Parseltongue?" he asked, his voice hushed in the silence of the room. Harry nodded, his fingers tracing the lines almost absently, his mind already translating the text. He whispered softly to himself, hisses escaping from between his teeth. Severus didn't understand, but he didn't need to. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around Harry, his gaze focused on the unconscious form in the large bed. "Draco found it. Even without realizing what he had, he found it."

Harry tilted his head up and back to stare at him, surprised, before turning his head to stare over at Draco as well, watching the boy sleep for several long moments. Severus had come clean with him about what was happening to Draco every time they exerted themselves. Or rather, every time he did.

"You were right. He'd kill himself for us, wouldn't he?" he asked softly. He felt Severus nod against him, and his shoulders slumped. Moments later, his spine stiffened and he stared back down at the book, his expression one of determination. "Then we had better solve this and save him the trouble, huh?"

Severus chuckled at his back, and the two wizards left the room, closing the door silently behind them and leaving Draco Malfoy asleep and none the wiser, completely unaware that he had just discovered the cure to Harry's curse, however unintentionally it had been.